A rash of horns, stadium honky-tonk, some insufferably self-regarding piano - that's supposed to be enough to dazzle the listener, like a budgie transfixed by a mirror.
Short of them coming round to your house and dripping shampoo in your eyes, it’s hard to imagine how [a]Ben Folds Five[/a] could be any more unlovable. Endowed with all the charm of spilt beer, they’ve recently claimed their music is in no way ironic, but really, it would be better for everyone if it was. Pretend it’s all a cunning parody of boorishly smug college men with a large collection of cigars and an inflated sense of their own importance, it’s tolerable. Realise that someone actually means such hideous jauntiness, and Christ, it’s enough to send you over the misanthropic edge.
‘Army’ is a concept single (truly, there is no end to their crimes) about some redneck made good, yet unlike [a]New Radicals[/a]’ similar brand of irritation, it doesn’t even try to dupe you with a tune. A rash of horns, stadium honky-tonk, some insufferably self-regarding piano – that’s supposed to be enough to dazzle the listener, like a budgie transfixed by a mirror.
You want entertainment? Believe me, the Vosene option is infinitely preferable.