Armchair Martian is a horrible band name, and to go along with that horrible name is a horrible album, horribly self-titled Armchair Martian. It may sound harsh, and please bear in mind that reviews are highly subjective, but this album has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. I found myself waiting for the album to be over. I was nearly unable to listen to it in its entirety, but was compelled to, simply to see how bad it would get. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, the last track arrived. Relieved at the possibility of Armchair Martian finally being over, I began to look forward to the silence my room would be filled with once the CD had stopped spinning. Unfortunately, I had spoken too soon — the last song seemed to have no end. Several times I thought it was over, but I was sorely mistaken. Armchair Martian just kept going and going and going… About 20 minutes later, track 13 finally drew to a close. At last, that long-awaited silence!
In case you haven’t already realized, my advice is not to buy this album. It’s not punk, it’s not country, it’s not even rockabilly. It is an annoying singer, playing less than memorable, repetitive songs, backed by a band that seems to think it is God’s gift to music. I hereby swear, with you, the reader, as my witness, never again will I allow my CD player to be subjected to such an awful, awful album. Never, not ever again.
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