Review Summary: Band's decided swansong summarizes their transparently wacky sound
When a band announces that their forthcoming album will be their last, especially if they've only released a single other full-length, a certain enigma latches onto the one announced. In the case of space-pop humanoids Slimey Things and
Goodbye Earth, their swansong, that they've been darlings of the underground live scene in their home of Sydney, Australia for more than fifteen years now only adds to that enigma. It seems when comparing this band's portfolio in terms of discography to terms of respect from their audience, we're seeing two very different things. This could lead to the question of, well, are Slimey Things just a 'live' band? They do fit the bill, as their music blends infectious rock rhythms with zany gum-commercial hooks and random bursts of 8-bit and other cartoonish effects; essentially, if a band like this remains in an environment where they're consistently seen as a novelty (a reliable novelty, but a novelty nonetheless), then it's likely that's what they'll end up as. That makes
Goodbye Earth more of a gift than anything that could've reasonably been expected.
How's the music, though? Well, if you've dabbled at all in the slightly experimental, you may be reminded of a particular artist by the name of Mike Patton instantaneously. There's a sax right at the front - amusingly played with just as much candor as the guitars - choruses resembling sitcom themes with verses purely for contrast, and of course, an overt sense of humor tying all the ridiculousness together. Needless to say, it's quite catchy, but in a concise, nicely packaged way I can deal with. It's all done quite professionally too; the production is spacious and clear as a bell, which makes all the sci-fi sound effects and onomatopoeia
extra fun. But what I don't think could be alleviated with any amount of professionalism is the hollowness these songs take on once they really get listened to.
It's not necessarily that they
rely on tropes; more like they were literally carved out of them, so any actual witticism the band attempts sort of falls flat on arrival.
"Keep lookin' over your shoulder, better beware/'Cause buddy, they got agents everywhere." Really, you don't say? Equally trite is the condemnation in "Johnny Generic." Though its wisdom is true -
"Yeah, Johnny plays in a rock band/And although it's bland/Their haircuts and pants seem to fit teen demographic" - at this point it's also just preaching to the choir. There's also the ever-so-ominous cautionary tale within "Funbot." It will suffice to say that in the end, the bot was
not so much fun. The most substance is found in "Silly Little Existence," and even that song feels more like a regurgitation than anything truly profound:
"Do you ever start to wonder why the ~bleep~ you're alive?/Always putting up with some bullshit jive/You'll never get an answer, so don't look to the sky/Everything you know is a lie." Wow. My third eye has been sufficiently squeegee'd, Slimey Things.
Honestly, I hesitate to even label a work like this "experimental," as it's just such a perfect version of what it's supposed to be that it doesn't sound like an excessive amount of "experimenting" was necessary. The album also doesn't really stray from the catchy-obnoxious pop-rock thing, save for one song, "Diabolical Bionic Babes." It's the lone epic on an album full of two-to-three-minute freakouts, it's the album's only foray into true avant-garde, and it's also kind of a pile of horse manure. But I applaud the band for the real attempt at moving out of their comfort zone, a zone that over time seemed to become them - ironic for a band built on the idea of being
totally wacky!!!. Perhaps if the musicianship and detailing found on this album were applied in a slightly more self-aware manner, we'd have a band here remembered for being respected artists, rather than just legendary class clowns.
