The Dinner is Ruined Band
A Maggot in Their Heads
The Dinner is Ruined Band make me think about Tom Waits or Eric Gaffney and their twisted roots Americana-noir, and now it looks like the bastards are from Canada. Or is that just the record label? Ugly musical nationalism aside, we are in dire need of bands that practice this kind of ragged experimentation. Alchemy, I’d call it. Press play with initial trepidation and instead of jangly nonsense I get godlike Kyuss fuzz-guitar and falsetto suicide voices splattering all over the place. My heart securely won, they follow up with Archers of Loaf-style rock-outs, hardcore punk goofs, lo-fi folk campfire songs, mantras, jingles and general melody-damaged weirdness. It just warms my heart to listen to a band that has a dual-personality understanding of orchestral pop archetypes and fuck-you noise. Van Dyke Parks anyone? Every time I think they’ve exhausted their little bag of tricks, they do something like use cheesy drum machine beats and vocal effects with a dangerously straight face. “Sleep Little Willie” is the perfect closer, big, anthemic and nonsensical, Abbey Road style.
Never have I heard such a wonderful bastardization of the “la-la-la” chorus.
Sonic Unyon, P.O. Box 57347, Jackson Station, Hamilton, Ontario L8P 4X2 CANADA