Blowjob For A Gayboy
JFUK the Queef EP
Once upon a time I liked Job For A Cowboy.
After ditching the pig squeals etc on the Doom EP, they came into their own as an incredible Death Metal band, with the record Genesis, playing with lots of great bands and ripping faces off. Following that they released Ruination which wasn’t the greatest record, still it contained some good chunky riffage. The current release by JFAC goes to show that all the hard work has softly disappeared up it’s own sugar coated anus. The first track Misery Reformatory captivated me THAT much, that I checked my player to see that I was still on the same dragging song. Itching to fast forward past their new vocalist Dani Filth‘s wailing vocals and find some real meat. Well it turns out, if you’re looking for beef, you ordered a vegetarian option panini.
Many ‘tr00′ folk of the undergay or whatever scenes would scowl at this review. Like an open minded individual, I paid attention, listened to their first record and garnered an appreciation for what they were trying to do as a heavy, extreme band, trying to mature. The debut was immense. There was good riffs, progressive tendencies and beef. It came across overall as raw and intense, a younger generation finding their sound over a period of time. It happens to a lot of bands. I’ll try break this down as much as possible, but most of the EP follows the same structure of riff, riff, riff, breakdown riff, black metal bit, riff, riff. Riff. Or more or less, similar to this. Oh and the occasional burst of dramatic shredding that everyone is performing these days.
As the EP moves anally onto the second track, it shows no signs of becoming anything memorable. Nor does it show any signs of that dreadful drum sound letting up. Although masterfully played, John Rice‘s atomic clock style blasting sounds compressed and ugly. Sugar coated poo poo, is the best description. There must be a point in a musician’s life where they decide that this horrible clicky gated compression, flat line production is the best production. It’s not. It’s shit. Plastic Idols moves timidly along like the previous effort and then disappears like smelly fart that nobody wants to kick up a fuss about because it’s that embarrassing. Sizzling out of an arse crack with a certain amount of clarity before it fizzles out with a tear from the eye. The japs eye.
Execution Parade is more of the same dull boring riffage with continuous monotonous slabbery vocals that sound like that Cradle of Filth record, Pornography. There again, another solo. And aye, there we go, another one. Harmonised a little bit this time. Before I know it, the song has finished. Again, unmemorable and tedious, and it’s so far fried my brain to mince so that I have difficulty trying to listen to the whole EP again to gain a better insight.
The last song Signature of Starving Power, is my pick of the bunch, the intro is just a big fucking blast, straight to the point before it start thunderously roaring along. The vocals are considerably better aswell, as the previous songs sound like a crying retard who lost his 1998 Autumn/Winter edition of an Argos catalogue. Thank fuck there’s not a solo after 1:30 seconds of the song as it would have dragged it down the shitter again. If they wrote all their songs like this one, they would be sitting up there with better bands, they just have to change their name first. To Savagerectomy and get rid of the Fisher Price drum sound. Oh and the singer gargling semen on the first three tracks.
Unfortunately the final song can’t save this EP of brand new material from judgement. Though it does save me from rating it as a crust covered piece of excrement to just a casual slice. They need to get that Pakistani gentleman (Ravi the Daddy) they had back in the band. His hindu groove will save this band from being forgotten off the face of whatever queertini’s they are drinking. That last sentence doesn’t make sense. But I don’t give a sheaaat nigguh.
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