Wednesday, January 17, 2007

A Belated Eulogy -or- Fuck Off!

Let's talk about Mclusky.

Mclusky may have been the greatest band of all time. Or, at least, they may, out of all bands ever, be the band who most deserving of my retroactive respect and devotion. More accurately, I feel that the somewhat-famous-at-least-to-me David Lee Roth statement that "all your other records will melt" applies most aptly to the music, charisma, attitude and righteous indignation of Mclusky. It sure as hell doesn't have anything to do with Van Halen, but don't take me out of context - we aren't talking about Van Halen.

We're talking about Mclusky! And thank God that we live in a country where we can do this! Or maybe you don't, which is too bad because, short of listening to Mclusky in the backseat of a car driving back from a fruitless and depressing bout of binge drinking across the border in Ontario at age 19, talking about Mclusky is, undoubtedly, one of the most comforting passtimes a human being can engage in. Granted, you're with the right people, you know who Mclusky are, and all of that gibberish that should go without saying just as well.

This point, however, is not trivial. Much of the feeling one gets when they think of Mclusky - dirty, underappreciated, wilfully difficult, antagonistic - unfortunately, is inseperable from the fact that most people don't get it, or better yet, are utterly turned off by it. Story of my life, sure. But there are lots of people who like, say, black metal, for this reason. And in cases like these the reactionaries are numerous enough to create a community. A subculture is created, as the old story goes, out of a backlash against the dominant culture which devalues things that clash with its aesthetics. Black metal bad = black metal good.

With a band like Mclusky, there is no chance of a subculture latching on to the aesthetic. It's punk rock, but they don't look like punks, they play too slow, they have the wrong friends, listen to the wrong bands, come from Wales, have mutton chops, the list goes on. As it does if you try to categorize it by the standards of any other subculture. It isn't enough in any one direction in order to make sense to any large number of people. And girls, that's 51% right ther, hate it, I'm sure.

Mclusky are your band because they are the voice of them that cry in the wilderness. Ain't nobody gonna hear it, cause ain't nobody gonna want to hear it. They'll have no choice but to hear it, and listen good, but they won't want to, so they won't listen past the first few words. Before the words "sex criminal" and just after the word "cunts" is where they veer off into their caverns of liberal guilt and domestic shame. Indeed, My Pain and Sadness Is More Sad and Painful Than Yours comes right out and says it - "joy". Either you're with the program or you aren't: right there.

Mclusky eats even decent bands like TV On the Radio and My Chemical Romance alive.

I thank whatever it is I thank - nature? - for people like Andrew Falkous, people like John Darnielle, though less so, people like Travis Morrison, less and less, and people like Thom Yorke, which almost seems pass-ay at this point. And I don't need to get into why. It's self indulgent, boring, and pointless. My worldview isn't important, and Andrew Falkous's worldview is not my worldview. I might fucking hate the guy if I ever met him. There's just something so compassionate about how he sings lines like "our last singer was a sex criminal" and something so vicious about how he sings lines like "my love is bigger than your love". As in all astoundingly profound art, this is the world inside of a nutshell.



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