Replace the word Fugazi with At the Drive-In and you have my review of the record.
Iím kidding! Hey, I bet you would have been really pissed off if I just let my review of the record end there. Well, now you REALLY know how it feels to listen to the Quick Fix Kills new record.
Iím kidding again. Okay, let me get serious. Every single song on this record has been done before and better by At the Drive-In, North of America, Fugazi, and about a hundred other bands you could care to name. Youíve got your meandering bass lines, your dissonant twin-guitar attack, and some guy right in front shouting about God knows what. The Quick Fix Kills have some nice stop/start dynamics going on in the occasional song, but thatís about the only thing that separates them from the rest of the pack. It doesnít help that their singer canít carry a tune, and manages to sound bored even when heís shouting. I mean, Cedric Bixler veered off-key every once in a while, but even then you could tell he meant what he sang about, even if he was the only one who could make sense out of the lyrics. It also doesnít help that the production renders all of the instruments completely flaccid. The drummer sounds as if heís hitting loose-leaf paper instead of a kit. The guitars sound like someone forgot to adjust their distortion pedals to their proper settings. Iíd give them a bit more credit if the album was recorded on four- or eight-track, but this was done in a so-called ìprofessionalî studio. Plus, too many of the song titles (ìSuicide is so ë90s,î ìMy Scabs Look Like Artî) reek of hipster irony. The songs sound like they would kick butt live (as long as the vocals were placed very low in the mix), but after multiple listens I can only remember two of the songs on this record.
You can tell how unenthusiastic I am about this CD by how much more time I spent goofing off than actually discussing it. Youíd think that I wrote for Pitchfork or something. (Ed.--Yeah, no kidding!)
--Sean Padilla (for real this time)