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OVER-THE-TOP

11/22/2002

(5 out of 5 stars)

"This is documented evidence of insanity-real insanity, not the kind where the lead singer leans over and sorta shakes his head ruefully. No, the Piranhas' Jamie would more likely duct-tape a dead (and mutilated) rat to his shirtless body and roll across a dance floor splattered with piss and splinters of glass. That's no hyperbole, mind you-that's any given Piranhas show. Sane people do not make music like this. Listening to "David Hazel Eyes," you can't help but feel complicit in Jamie's delusions as he cries, "Oh, dear/Come here/You look weird/Your eye sockets are so . . . cute!" He screams with the intensity of Jesus Lizard's David Yow and the desperation of Nick Cave during the Birthday Party's most frantic moments. Underneath, the Piranhas do a whiplash stop-start with blast-beat-like disregard for consistent tempo: Ami's farfisa organ bleeds volatile melodies that'll make atheists thank the Lord those Screamers tapes weren't lost, and the rest of the band delivers a manic "Cyclotron"-style aural bludgeoning, absolutely and defiantly refusing to find a groove. This is not music for dancing-this is music to make you punch through drywall"

Yessss!!!!!!!!

11/20/2002

(5 out of 5 stars)

"THE PIRANHAS
EROTIC GRIT MOVIES
IN THE RED RECORDS This is documented evidence of insanity-real insanity, not the kind where the lead singer leans over and sorta shakes his head ruefully. No, the Piranhas' Jamie would more likely duct-tape a dead (and mutilated) rat to his shirtless body and roll across a dance floor splattered with piss and splinters of glass. That's no hyperbole, mind you-that's any given Piranhas show. Sane people do not make music like this. Listening to "David Hazel Eyes," you can't help but feel complicit in Jamie's delusions as he cries, "Oh, dear/Come here/You look weird/Your eye sockets are so . . . cute!" He screams with the intensity of Jesus Lizard's David Yow and the desperation of Nick Cave during the Birthday Party's most frantic moments. Underneath, the Piranhas do a whiplash stop-start with blast-beat-like disregard for consistent tempo: Ami's farfisa organ bleeds volatile melodies that'll make atheists thank the Lord those Screamers tapes weren't lost, and the rest of the band delivers a manic "Cyclotron"-style aural bludgeoning, absolutely and defiantly refusing to find a groove. This is not music for dancing-this is music to make you punch through drywall."