LET ME OUT!
Liner notes review: Billy Corgan's TheFutureEmbrace
Note: I wrote a review of this album for The Summer Northwestern. I traded the review copy of the album in at 2nd Hand Tunes in Evanston and got $5 for it. I win.—7/9/05
I suspected Billy Corgan was turning into some sort of pale bald raving Jesus two years ago when I saw him play with Zwan and he began chanting to the audience about "LOVE" as if just to say the word would heal everyone and make me forget I was getting very uncomfortable cramped into a gym with a lame and stiff college audience.
"DO YOU BELIEVE IN MEEEEEEEE? DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOOOOOOVE!" You know, one of those stupid things you can croon to get unconditional applause from any audience. Kinda like "HEELLOOOO CHICAAAAGO!" At least in 2003 he played and sang like a motherfucker. There's none of that on his new album, TheFutureEmbrace, aka Welcome to my Creepy Pseudoreligious Synth-Rock Phase aka Touch My Wounds and Be Ye Healed.
Oh, I tried, I really tried, for about five minutes, to like this allbum. I would never ask for more of the same, especially from someone who writes the way Corgan does. I was glad to dip my fingers into your wounds, Billy. I didn't get creeped out by the photos in the liner notes—close-ups of your mangled front-teeth, your scrawny E.T. ribcage and what appear to be (fake?) burn marks all over your arms.
I yanked back my hand when I realized the booklet was full of adolescent crap-haiku:
I also did not care for this admonition:
Lawdy, Lawdy! Please! Grab me by the head and dip me in the waters of the ol' Shenandoah! I'll buy you a big bright neon crucifix and live with you and eat nothing but soggy granola and wild forest berries for the rest of my life!
Somehow I can't really hold it against him. If nothing else, he keeps moving and keeps changing. Good for him.
And now I'm going to act like a dick, sell this review copy to a used record store and drown my irritation in Siamese Dream.
Note: I wrote a review of this album for The Summer Northwestern. I traded the review copy of the album in at 2nd Hand Tunes in Evanston and got $5 for it. I win.—7/9/05
I suspected Billy Corgan was turning into some sort of pale bald raving Jesus two years ago when I saw him play with Zwan and he began chanting to the audience about "LOVE" as if just to say the word would heal everyone and make me forget I was getting very uncomfortable cramped into a gym with a lame and stiff college audience.
"DO YOU BELIEVE IN MEEEEEEEE? DO YOU BELIEVE IN LOOOOOOVE!" You know, one of those stupid things you can croon to get unconditional applause from any audience. Kinda like "HEELLOOOO CHICAAAAGO!" At least in 2003 he played and sang like a motherfucker. There's none of that on his new album, TheFutureEmbrace, aka Welcome to my Creepy Pseudoreligious Synth-Rock Phase aka Touch My Wounds and Be Ye Healed.
Oh, I tried, I really tried, for about five minutes, to like this allbum. I would never ask for more of the same, especially from someone who writes the way Corgan does. I was glad to dip my fingers into your wounds, Billy. I didn't get creeped out by the photos in the liner notes—close-ups of your mangled front-teeth, your scrawny E.T. ribcage and what appear to be (fake?) burn marks all over your arms.
I yanked back my hand when I realized the booklet was full of adolescent crap-haiku:
come what may
it's here I must wait
to keep the dogs at bay
ok? ok
sorrow
sorrow
it's here I must wait
to keep the dogs at bay
ok? ok
sorrow
sorrow
I also did not care for this admonition:
I DEDICATE THIS ALBUM TO ALL WHO BELIEVE IN THE PATH OF LOVE. IT IS MY HUMBLE BELIEF THAT GOD HAS MANY NAMES BUT JUST ONE FACE...AND IT IS TO THAT DIVINE SPIRIT WITH A CAPITAL "S" THAT I AM GRATEFUL FOR THIS MOMENT TO SING MY SONGS FOR YOU
Lawdy, Lawdy! Please! Grab me by the head and dip me in the waters of the ol' Shenandoah! I'll buy you a big bright neon crucifix and live with you and eat nothing but soggy granola and wild forest berries for the rest of my life!
Somehow I can't really hold it against him. If nothing else, he keeps moving and keeps changing. Good for him.
And now I'm going to act like a dick, sell this review copy to a used record store and drown my irritation in Siamese Dream.
posted by Scott at 11:27 PM
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