Scumbag Philosopher – It Means Nothing So It Means Nothing (Album Review)
Monday, 27 June 2011
Written by James Ball
This is officially the hardest review I’ve ever written. So congratulations to Scumbag Philosopher for that.
If you’re looking for Matt Bellamy or Thom Yorke soaring vocals, sublime falsetto or a distant sense of mourning, then you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Scumbag Philosopher are not there for writing great displays of tuneful diorama. No. They’re here to write simple songs with repetitive rhythms and some of the most diverse, matter-of-fact, left-of-centre lyrics ever committed to CD.
They’re not shit though. Most bands would read the above paragraph and be deeply disappointed, but the former Fuck Dress probably won’t. They have this knack of making social commentary so painfully obvious it’s impossible to not listen. It’s almost mesmerising how simple they make some of the most astute observations surrounding life, celebrity and all that surrounds you.
Take the almost hilarious ‘Your Heroes at Home’, a fun yarn featuring a snippet of some of the current biggest stars in music and film. Chris Martin paying a gas bill; Amy Winehouse sorting out a speeding ticket; 17.000 celebrities all going to the shops. Take ‘God is Dead so I Listen to Radiohead’, a title that’s…unique as it is. Time wasted now is time saved later, they wail. Well, touché. The lyrics are an English students dream. Deconstructing them, finding new meanings behind something that sounds simple is a welcome challenge as there clearly are more layers to the words.
Musically, what are you listening to? Well, not a lot. The bass is usually as monotonous as the vocals. The guitars are in a mind of their own and the drummer has clearly died of boredom. The whole thing would make an excellent song, and I even gave self-titled single ‘Scumbag Philosopher’ a positive review. However, all nine tracks presented on ‘It Means Nothing So It Means Nothing’ probably mean absolutely nothing if they all sound the same, which on a first listen, it could be very easy to say happens here.
Well, ‘Social Networking Site’ is a particular instant gem though, it has to be said. Never before have I heard such a venomous attack on the likes of Facebook and Myspace. “Friend request denied”. Damn right. It’s passive aggressive venom, but venomous nonetheless. It comes as a bit of a shock in fact.
So the music isn’t exactly a masterpiece. Jack White needn’t worry yet about his position as one of the worlds current greatest musicians. People aren’t going to be scrambling at the music shops to grab the Scumbag Philosopher tab books either, but that’s clearly the point. Scumbag Philosopher isn’t in existence in order to make anything remotely challenging just for the sake of it. Guitar wankery is not high on the agenda. Making sure that the point, whatever it may be, gets across in pinpoint fashion is clearly the top item on the itinerary, and they’ve garnered a pretty decent following from fans and critics alike as a result.
Give the songs a second and third chance though. They tend to evolve more and more as time progresses, especially if you listen to them with the context of the album. These songs seem to work best when not listening to the album itself, but on shuffle or random mode as part of a compilation playlist. In fact, at 28 minutes long this would normally be considered a horrifically short album, but if it were any longer, the fun would probably quickly wear off. Certainly not one for putting on repeat.
So do I actually LIKE it? Well, I’m confused by it a little and I know I won’t be the only one, but I’ve always been one to be opened up to new things. Just last week I said The Sounds wrote my current album of the year, despite not being a connoisseur in dance music. Scumbag Philosopher don’t so much as open your mind, as bore a whacking great hole in it with a three-inch thick drill. This is music for people who hate what people call “music” these days, and for the niche, that’s all that matters.
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If you’re looking for Matt Bellamy or Thom Yorke soaring vocals, sublime falsetto or a distant sense of mourning, then you’re going to be sorely disappointed. Scumbag Philosopher are not there for writing great displays of tuneful diorama. No. They’re here to write simple songs with repetitive rhythms and some of the most diverse, matter-of-fact, left-of-centre lyrics ever committed to CD.
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