Pissed Jeans

•October 1, 2009 • Leave a Comment

King of Jeans,

Sub Pop


Admittedly, this music has its qualities, but they’re pretty hard to detect after the first listen, and maybe even harder after a further ten listens. These are the kind of songs you spent your early teens po-going to, as drunk and flaying as a Shane MacGowan caricature. So drunk, that you no longer care to look cool – can no longer dance, or see straight for that matter. And of course, you have no interest in good music – you just want to get seriously messed up and annihilate all. If it serves no other purpose, this is a great album to have a sweaty work-out to. As in, work out the sweat, work out that deep lurking primal angst, and work out those goddamn demons while you’re at it. King of Jeans is your archetypal dark, grungerock album. You’ll barely be able to hear the lyrics, but dammit, you’ll be too busy thrashing and doing high kicks off your couch to actually notice. When the singer isn’t droning and making little to no sense with his tuneless reverbing wails, he occasionally sounds a little like Nick Cave doing a soliloquy for Grinderman. At other high points – one might think they detect the alcohol imbibed vocals of Mark E Smith. Big swooping rock guitars, combined with thrashing cymbals and banging, crashing drums. All this topped off with a singer who sounds like he’s half drunk, half dead, or perhaps, like he’s pissed his jeans, and he’s pretty damn mad.