Squeaky Feet – Brainrot
There’s been a competition for superiority within rock musical styles ever since someone figured you could either play fewer notes of “Johnny B. Goode,” and add distorsion calling it “hard-rock,” or add more notes, take the volume and speed away, and call it jazz. Ever since that day, styles have battled it out for paying fans and for the attention of those who may one day be converted.
However, the other vital element that separates these styles is “time.” I’m not talking about playing four-to-the-floor beats or consulting Mike Portnoy on how to play in some meter inspired by tap-dancing termites. It all comes down to just how much time the audience is willing to offer a piece of music. Songs either have to feel immediate or take you on a journey. But Squeaky Feet are wondering about what happens when you manage to do both these things.
On the surface, and after just listening to the first seconds of “Brainrot,” Squeaky Feet seem to have fashioned a 2000s-styled garage rock number with catchy riffs and half-screamed vocals. But this wouldn’t be a song about losing your mind to simple, endless distractions if the band didn’t have greater ambitions. Squeaky Feet aim to create a hybrid of jammy prog-rock and hooky alternative. It’s an interesting proof of concept.
Crab – Paper Man
Americans are the kings of the world, and that’s mostly because they can tap a dictator on the shoulder in the middle of the night and get them to appear naked and in clown make-up on a late-night television show. That’s a mighty dose of power if you stop to count all the aeroplanes and missiles, too.
But, on the weekends, the U.S. of A. is also a mighty conservative place. Weirdos are hard to find. Art is something that’s only discussed in public schools and requires a ticket to France to experience. And, the few characters loitering around the street are made to look like colossal eccentrics through sheer power of comparison.
That’s why it’s easy to make fun of American culture, particularly the sacred C&W, if you don’t mind risking being tapped on the shoulder in the middle of the night. Crab is a band doing this today, and would you believe it, the results are still hilarious.
Crab’s “Paper Man” sounds, and, especially, looks like someone using modern tech to revive John Wayne and have him sing in baritone while the Indians finally get to burn down the stagecoach.
On “Paper Man,” there’s plenty of shouting and roughing up country music. It sounds grand. It sounds like someone drawing a moustache on a giant picture of Henry Kissinger placed on a billboard in some Central American capital. You know it won’t make a lick of difference, but it feels good to know that someone can still do that.
