BOB CITY
Self-titled EP (Derailleur)
Reviewed by Jason Thornberry

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Did you ever see that late-night commercial where two burnt-out hippies try to sell you a compact-disc compilation full of all the butt-rock hits you forgot about? "Is that Freedom Rock, man?" The other stoner nods. "Well turn it up, maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!!" That's how I felt when I put this in my stereo. I swear, just sitting through the first half of this seven song EP must have robbed me of at least twelve IQ points. Put yer overalls on, boy. Get in yer pickup truck, and pray it starts. If it does, then cruise over to Earl's Bar, and you'll find a sonic blue-print of what these five guys are doing. Bad, re-hashed-til-the-hash-is-gone bar-rawk. So unoriginal, it's almost funny. These lads probably scream "show me yer tits!" out of car windows. At nuns. If yer pickup won't start, it's because the engine is parked twelve feet from the rest of the auto. In yer flowers. Stagger back inside and listen to this on CD. Be sure to drink some cheap American beer while you're doing it. The sleeve has a photo of the band drinking, smoking, and (probably) talking about how enormously endowed they all are.

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© 2000 - Jason Thornberry