Michael J. Sheehy - Ill Gotten Gains
(Beggars)
Hey, let’s hear it for shit music. Yeah, shit music! Here's a big shout out to all the shit out there.
But seriously, folks, it’s in your best interest to stay as far away as possible from Sheehy and his emotionless blend of alt-country, folk, and trip-hop. And no, that isn’t a misprint. He actually mixes alt-country and folk with trip-hop. "Hey Michael, your songs aren’t ever going to be on the radio, ever. Go home!" At least, if I knew Michael and didn’t like him very much, that’s what I’d be saying.
OK, so you fakejazz readers are a bunch who likes to know why to hate these people, right? Of course you are. Let’s start from scratch: the first track on Ill Gotten Gains, “Sweet Blue Gene”, is a slab of emotionless country music that not even Chris Gaines would have the nerve to commit to record. Check these lyrics: "Gene it’s been so many years/it’s looking like you/will always be here/my, my sweet blue Gene." Oh yeah. Ohhhh yeah, that’s right Michael, sing it like you really mean it, and, oh yeah, next time you record an album try to put some emotion into your vocal delivery, because even if your lyrics are trite you can pass them off as meaningful if only you emote a little. Hey, it works for Dashboard Confessional!
Second track, and things are getting even worse. Using a drum loop that Portishead thew in the garbage on the way out of the Dummy sessions, Michael decides that, yes, it would sound inventive to marry lugubrious beats with country tinged acoustic guitar. News flash: INVENTIVE DOES NOT MEAN GOOD! "Hey guys, I just recorded myself taking a shit. Let’s mix in some Latin guitars and screaming! It’ll be a hit!” Sure, that would be inventive, but would you really listen to it? Anyway…
Can we stop talking about this crap-ass music now, please? Just take the worst parts of Massive Attack, Portishead, the Tindersticks, and Ryan Adams, mash them together and you get Michael J. Sheehy. Which brings me to my last point: the album artwork. Really, what is this, a fashion shoot? On the cover is a blurry picture of Michael wearing a cowboy hat and carrying a guitar case, looking at a piece of paper (hey, Michael, this is called overkill). On the inside jacket there’s a picture of him staring at the camera, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and a tired look in his eyes. Yeah, being a fashion-rocker is a tough job. Or, wait, no, maybe he’s trying to tell the listener how deep and complex he is. Whatever.
Final summation: a few hours of my life gone forever. Do not, under any circumstances, buy this record.
|
