A-SET
Adeline Moon (Luminal Records)
Reviewed by Erick Mertz
There is something in this record that is difficult to put down. Listening to its Mike Patton inspired punk-cum-pseudo-blues is in a strange way like reading modern poetry, or watching a silent film: once through just isn't enough to properly determine its assets and liabilities.
Short of equating A-Set's Adeline Moon with a work of T.S. Eliot genius or W.C. Fields antiquity, its almost maliciously frustrating unevenness bears considerable mention. Just when Albert Menudo's songwriting reaches any sustainable groove, either lyrically or otherwise, he deviates sharply into something else. His talking man groove on "Two of Hearts" is finger popping, jaw dropping stuff that ends abruptly with a psycho ballad love song like "To: Old Friends," all puffy with strings and vocals high-pitched that are all but unintelligible. When Menudo can't seem to get out of his own way - evidence lyrics like "life is such a mystery/love is such a mystery" - one can't press STOP soon enough.
But then A-Set sets in, and Adeline Moon comes off like a light mix of vintage Faith No More and Tom Waits. While there isn't the same bent brained wit or thrusting juxtaposition between lounge and metal, there is a break with rock conventions that Menudo does on this record that few other people are up for these days. It is a challenging listen, but one worthy of an almost museum like observation from a record company that seems to relish its place in avant rock.
© 2005 - Erick Mertz