These
four sharp suited, and hopefully suitably attired shoe-wise, wiseguys
are aptly named along with their punning album title, as they roll out a
slew of red carpet-sealed choppy Keef riffs that shuffle and stroll into
a swagger like sped up Dictators songs such as 'Harder and Faster'
and 'The Next Big Thing' with an essential swing that sets
them apart. I mean, these riffs could almost be ordered from a catalogue
but they're sounding fresh and fulsome here, topped off with a suave
acerbic monotone with tongue in cheek self-mythologizing akin to Fun
Lovin' Criminals ('Big Generator' and 'Rock'n'Roll
Star', which packs a neat 'Hang On Sloopy middle) but with the
knowing wit and panache that comes with the self-assurance of being the
real Kings of New York. Maybe it's their elder statesman status but it
comes across as what Tin Machine could've / should've been, instead of
the insipid, wailing imbecilic mid-life crisis that it was and the Iggy
of 'American Caesar' but with better songs...thankfully not aping The
Stooges but with a similar look askance of experience and weary
realism...that comb their hair nonchalantly in the mirror while plugging
effortlessly into New York City's electric cool whether it's the
Morphine playing in the Funhouse spoken word alienated beat-punk Jim
Jarmusch cafe table jazz of '14th and Beat Street', the heroin toned
themes sliding comfortably into the aching cold kissed dawn of 'Can't
You See', as it's a loping shuffle not unlike 'Horse With No
Name' after it's being left against a radiator in Johnny Thunders'
apartment circa 1982; the louche lounge cocktail bar schmooze over a
deal and a drink or two of 'Downtime In Midtown'; the
exquisite pop chorus of 'Drinking Alone Under The Moon',
that's surprisingly kooky and cute like Dead Milkmen's 'Soul Rotation'
and knocks you off-kilter after the slinky hipped riffing on the verse
that follows the melody in their general style. 'That's Cool Too'
is the most Stooge satisfied but corks bottles all over town, and isn't
outta place in this collection that's strangely addictive for something
that's also kind of unremarkable and workmanlike, but to hell with it,
I'd rather be listening to some words of experience and cynical sin than
some set of wannabe tarnished tykes.
_____________________________________________________________
These
four sharp suited, and hopefully suitably attired shoe-wise, wiseguys
are aptly named along with their punning album title, as they roll out a
slew of red carpet-sealed choppy Keef riffs that shuffle and stroll into
a swagger like sped up Dictators songs such as 'Harder and Faster'
and 'The Next Big Thing' with an essential swing that sets
them apart. I mean, these riffs could almost be ordered from a catalogue
but they're sounding fresh and fulsome here, topped off with a suave
acerbic monotone with tongue in cheek self-mythologizing akin to Fun
Lovin' Criminals ('Big Generator' and 'Rock'n'Roll
Star', which packs a neat 'Hang On Sloopy middle) but with the
knowing wit and panache that comes with the self-assurance of being the
real Kings of New York. Maybe it's their elder statesman status but it
comes across as what Tin Machine could've / should've been, instead of
the insipid, wailing imbecilic mid-life crisis that it was and the Iggy
of 'American Caesar' but with better songs...thankfully not aping The
Stooges but with a similar look askance of experience and weary
realism...that comb their hair nonchalantly in the mirror while plugging
effortlessly into New York City's electric cool whether it's the
Morphine playing in the Funhouse spoken word alienated beat-punk Jim
Jarmusch cafe table jazz of '14th and Beat Street', the heroin toned
themes sliding comfortably into the aching cold kissed dawn of 'Can't
You See', as it's a loping shuffle not unlike 'Horse With No
Name' after it's being left against a radiator in Johnny Thunders'
apartment circa 1982; the louche lounge cocktail bar schmooze over a
deal and a drink or two of 'Downtime In Midtown'; the
exquisite pop chorus of 'Drinking Alone Under The Moon',
that's surprisingly kooky and cute like Dead Milkmen's 'Soul Rotation'
and knocks you off-kilter after the slinky hipped riffing on the verse
that follows the melody in their general style. 'That's Cool Too'
is the most Stooge satisfied but corks bottles all over town, and isn't
outta place in this collection that's strangely addictive for something
that's also kind of unremarkable and workmanlike, but to hell with it,
I'd rather be listening to some words of experience and cynical sin than
some set of wannabe tarnished tykes.