Hands up who remembers Suckdog? Okay, now let's try that without the St. Vitus Dance, shall we? If you're an astute visitor to my outpourings you'll remember that not so long ago I reviewed the demented 'Songs From The Shining Temple' album from these people and praised them their lurid dramas, and much the same is happening this time around. Think Suckdog, think wily peyote.
Of course, it's one thing to assemble jumbled slants on (un)popular brands of music, but to do it in a way which conveys charm is no easy struggle, and Flaming Fire snatch defeats from the paws of victory, then just throw it all away anyway. They're above such petty matters. To them they've had some aims, carried it through and we're left with an alien autopsy to conduct, with a full orchestra if so inspired.
It's pretty skewed construction usually, as in 'Rabbit', with spoken raconteur hindered as much as helped by yelping backing chants, while for music there is an adventure with teaspoons carried out by drunken sprites. It's nothing but space-age plumbing in 'Pedophiliac', but raw and raucous Talking Heads (big suit era) for 'Disco' so they know how to manhandle a tune. Badly. And still make it fizz.
Being more mature this time round they've got some covers, the most embarrassed being 'Word Up!' coming courtesy of a Ghostbusters convention, some folky spookiness called 'Whiskey River' where they're almost patient with the material and during 'Listen' you could swear that if the Baader Meinhoff had ever diversified into nursery rhymes this is how it would have been.
The most disappointing element has to be 'La La La' which just sounds like a cult trying to become a band, but they also have plainer fare, equally disruptive, which has American College Radio written all over it, with 'Why Do' not being a millions bad pairs of trousers away from They Might Be Giants, with Slitsish harmonies, and the primitive west coast psychedelia of 'In The Summer' (minus the West Coast affiliations, or any psychedelics, saved by cutely infuriating singing as though the original Velvet Underground were drowning in piss.
If that sounds like your cup of tea, go drink it.
RABBIT RUN TO THE RIVER