Wow, my fist review for Diskant. Pretty exciting eh? Well no.
Rather it seems I have been cunningly duped by Marceline into listening to an album I would slap my own mother for even looking at in a shop.
‘Supernova’ by Liquid Blue is a truly dismal record by a band who represent the very antithesis of creativity, heart and rock n’ roll.
Hailing from San Diego, Liquid Blue (eh?) appear to be the brainchild of Raw Power Magazine co-founder Scott Stevens, who also happens to be a fully qualified financial advisor. So right away you see what kind of band they are. This guy is David Brent with a big trust fund.
The band, anything from a 7 to a 17 piece affair boast drums by Josh ‘funky cold’ Medina and ‘turntable’ by someone called ‘Big Dude’. I’m really not joking. I would have at least added monkeys.
Popular on the USO scene in the states, the band’s fan base seems to be dribbling Alabama soldiers impressed by the 3 not-cynically-included-at-all ‘purty’ female singers.

In short (and it really does deserve to be), this is a dreadful mixture of directionless, bland soft rock music, mixed up and corrupted new age philosophy, faux social concern, kindergarten political comment and robust sporty girls. Oh yeah, and 4 not so robust 40 something guys, trying to look anything but their age. The only interesting question this album raises for me is:

What is it about soft rock and aerobic sportswear?

A small tip Liquid Blue (Fuck, that is the worst name for a band ever). Most bands who pretend to “care about the planet” and insist upon foisting their vapid concerns on the public tend not to list their surfboard and wetsuit sponsorships on the back of their albums. Yes, I like to surf while I shed a tear for the little children too, but I’m not sure the others will understand like I do.

I suppose I’d better comment on the actual record. Right, hold your nose.

1) Kashmir – Jesus, where to start? This toothless affair blends a painful mishmash of musical themes and a weak male lead vocal to very little effect.

2) Show me Love – No.

3) If You Gotta Ask – I do I’m afraid, and the question is why, sweet Jesus, why?

4) Supernova – This track implores me to do the “Bossa-supernova”. Oh my fucking God. This is the best track so far by miles.

5) Pretend – More cod ‘Arabian Knights’ pish as the intro. Really guys? Every single tune? Who sold you on that idea? This track is called pretend. I’m going to pretend I was a pro and listened to it all.

6) Rhythm of Love – Without wishing to incur the wrath of The Weathergirls, this sounds a bit like ‘It’s Raining Men’ but not in a good way. Listening to this made me want to strangle my sleeping child.

7) Real – Oh my God. For fuck sake stop letting the keyboard player do Indian/Arabian/Romancing the Stone soundtrack intros!!!!!! AHHHHH! What, do you owe this clown money or something? Just stop it! This sounds like a Britney Spears track remixed by a funky sheik. I know that sort of sounds good. Believe me, this isn’t.

8) Rescue – Once again, sitar/pan pipe Easterny intro. I want to go into a health food store and kill everyone. Once again, the sitar/pan pipe Easterny intro has nothing to do with the pappy American ultra soft rock song it fades into.
This is the best actual song on the album. If done on a piano by someone with an ounce of class or sensitivity it might just be shite. Lyrics include references to something called “Pair-adise” and “when will we rescue the sea?” Anyone still doubt God is dead?

9) Arms of Love – All I can tell you about this one, as I lasted exactly 23 seconds, is that it sounds like Afghanistan’s version of Moby on Top Deck and Mum’s out of date valium.

10) Give Me Back My Heart – Go on! Mibbe she’ll shut up then! Once again, sub-Destiny’s Child garbage to give the tot, I mean talented female vocalists, a chance to shine.

11) Can’t Stop It – And we so wish you could.
ENOUGH WITH THE FUCKING INTROS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It’s hard to believe these people truly imagine that their spray-on, transparently fake concern translates into even mildly diverting lyrical content. This one, about being a couch potato while all around “people” “suffer”, is akin to being lectured on ethics by an aerobics instructor.
Coupled as it is with music that sounds as if it’s been recorded alongside an unrelated advert for a curry house, this track made for as harrowing an experience as my creaking constitution has experienced in many a long year.

12, 13, 14) Fuck it. I can stand no more. I remove the offending disc as I would a piss-stained vagrant from my favourite armchair. You can’t make me listen to the rest so there.

America. If you really want to know where Osama Bin Ladin is hiding, try slapping this baby on the Guantanamo Bay playlist.

Click here to observe the pointless tragedy.

Posted: 06|8|05 at 12:50 am. Filed under: record reviews.
Comments and pings are currently closed.