Mclusky do dallas pitchfork

In this case, the B-sides sound like much shittier versions of the A-sides. So, at the very least, Mclusky should be commended for putting their best foot forward. Surprisingly, the third disc of rarities and live performances-- so-called "C-sides"-- proves more rewarding than its alphanumeric predecessor, showing a more versatile and unchecked side of the band. As is usually the case with these things, the three-disc version of Mcluskyism works better as an archive than it does a unified listening experience.

Diehards, I'm sure, would love to include a choice "C-side" like "Colour March" or "Cradling" on a mix CD, but most people will find the condensed version of Mcluskyism to be just right. At one disc, it's a gleeful kick in the ribs. In fact, due undoubtedly to Albini's production and the erratic vocals, Mclusky have recently been compared to the Pixies: they have the same knack for taking essentially straight-up songs and wracking them with nervous energy.

Of course, unlike vintage Black Francis, Falkous's vocals don't sound maniacal or out of control; they're just deftly witty and humorously exaggerated. Most of Mclusky Do Dallas holds this pace, but infectiously poppy songwriting always girds the extreme elements. This works to keep the mood varied, as the band stretches out barbed-wire guitar lines like the one on "Collagen Rock", or follows the easy stride and sudden fits of a song like "Alan is a Cowboy Killer". And frankly, American teen skater bands wish they could write a power-punk anthem as instantly unforgettable and insanely insidious as "Day of the Deadringers".

We keep posthumously lavishing praise on Mclusky, but their appeal is deeper and less immediate than it might seem: More than just being meaner and louder than their peers, they dropped brilliant non-sequiturs and generous dollops of hometown hate within perfectly twisted punk anthems. The proper names, liars, and criminals that made up their lyrics were like a world we only wished we could fully relate to. Which was fine by them: Whatever you were doing, they wanted no part of it.

Jarcrew graduated from Wales' underground around the same time as Mclusky, but they lacked the more well-known band's swagger and nonchalance. They were the brilliant, creative, genre-defying geeks who tried a bit too hard-- Mclusky were off pulling fire alarms while the Jarcrew were writing screenplays in the computer lab after hours. Is it possible for musicians to show growth and maturity while singing about pretty pussycats and couples who eat sausage on a stick?

Andy Falkous' lyrics haven't regressed in their wittiness or caustic sarcasm, but his delivery is seldom as balls-out as on Do Dallas ' "Lightsaber Cocksucking Blues" or their pants-soiling single, "There Ain't No Fool in Ferguson".

Here, Mclusky appear to have recoiled from the hilarious absurdity of Do Dallas , and the move yields mixed results. Interestingly, though, the record does find the band succeeding in some as-yet-unexplored territory. After exhausting a few verses, Falkous drops out, allowing the placid guitar line to shine, before chiming in again with the lyric, "Our old singer is a sex criminal. Unfortunately, "She Will Only Bring You Happiness" isn't a single, and there a dozen other tracks to account for, none of which live up to that song's pop splendor, and few of which even come close.