Look at the sleeve of this record and you might detect that this is a clever parody of the artwork for [a]Prodigy[/a]'s [B]'The Fat Of The Land'[/B]. Ha. Ha....
Look at the sleeve of this record and you might detect that this is a clever parody of the artwork for [a]Prodigy[/a]’s ‘The Fat Of The Land’. Ha. Ha. Those of you stupid enough to pay money for it will not get the press release explaining the unique philosophy behind it. But perhaps you should be told.
“The Prodigy,” [a]Wat Tyler[/a] announce, “may make better music, but they are puppets.” This work is, “Obviously a pisstake… we don’t expect you to like this record, but hopefully you’ll find it funny.” Right. So, what you’re saying is, ‘Buy this record, it may be shit but, er, at least it’s nice shit.’
But – hey! – let’s not judge a record by its cover, or its press release, or whether it’s popular, as [a]Wat Tyler[/a] do. Funny? Well, by their titles alone, you can tell that ‘Michael Bolton’s Hair’, ‘Teletubbies’ and ‘Fill Your Pants With Fear’ are full of original and cutting humour.
But it’s not all one huge belly laugh! There’s excruciatingly worthy and patronising political folk bollocks like ‘History Of The Soviet Union Part One – October’ and ‘Spice Girls’ (‘manufactured’, is the shocking conclusion).
But at least it’s punk rock, right? Well, no, actually it’s chuggingly mediocre, plodding [I]pub [/I]rock, desperately trying to be sung with a deep voice and cockernee accent.
“We’re not part of the business,” reckon [a]Wat Tyler[/a]. So why put a fucking record out? “Whatever you wanna call us is fine,” they say. How about ‘Pointless, pious, fifth-rate novelty crap’? If this is punk rock, I’m Rick Wakeman.