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Review of Nonexistent Album for Band I Made Up


by Oliver Hunt


Chooch Haunt- Strip-O-Grams for the Impotent LP (Fixed Addresses are for Suckers Records)- We've come to this, are you really surprised? Now I'm almost nostalgic for the days when there were simply too many bands. Now every band is trying to be a micro-genre in and of itself, and a band these days can be one guy with a drumstick and an attitude. 
So what's this? Some guy apparently thought it'd be quirky fun to write songs around primitive Casio programs, figuring it worked for an obese schizophrenic. The songs themselves are pretty standard misanthropic rants about indie rockers, preferring to drink in jock bars over hipster bars because “at least the girls in Lincoln park shower,” and how nobody's a real punk anymore and blah blah blah.
On his bio, he calls his music Garage-Trance-Real-Punk-Shit-Scum-Asshole-Gaze. I guess he's not hurting anybody but himself, but I'm pretty sure at this point therapy can be considered a musical genre. I'm not saying that's bad, necessarily, just that this outing was a chore to listen to.
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