Review Summary: i use the restroom in only the most literal sense
Every time I manage to revert my attention back to
Mercy after having zoned out for the twenty-ninth time while listening to the record, I’ll hear vocalist Erik Paulson singing about something absolutely riveting like logging in to see his bank statement or getting ghosted by his grandma. Don’t get me wrong, his voice is as pleasant as ever, but the stuff he’s singing about is about as pointless as the instrumentals accompanying such grand declarations of using your own sh*t as cologne.
Here’s the worst part: I don’t claim to be a particularly interesting or engaging person, and yet I would argue that the above paragraph using excerpts of
Mercy’s lyrical content is more entertaining than anything this 36-minute long record accomplishes. There’s plenty of ridiculous turns of phrases here that could be
funny if nothing else, but Remo Drive does an excellent job at making everything sound so goddamn lifeless that it’s hard to find any value in absolutely anything here. I can’t even have a laugh at horrific wordplay a la “
I use the restroom in only the most literal sense / I take my cleansing breath in the filthiest room around” because I’m bound to be asleep two tracks in. Admittedly, all the performances are fine and there are definitely melodies (probably), but everything blurs together in a boring grey mass of Baby’s First Indie Album-isms.
Remo Drive have turned into an utterly pointless project. There’s not even a wonderfully terrible Wiggles-ah moment to be found here (“
it’s just as easy as that!”), let alone the passion or energy that made the band so enjoyable… (checks notes) seven years ago. The only thing
Mercy is good for is reading through its lyrical content and having a quick laugh. Did you know that “
love is like a houseplant: in order to keep it you must tend to it”? Or that “
I tried to live clean like a monk or a priest, problem is I am insane. No matter how strong light, I am no fly”? Lord, have mercy.
