In those alien seas where the rays of heaven cannot penetrate the shroud of sargasso, monsters live in the obsidian-black depths. From the muddy Neva River through the strong “Baltic” they go to these waters to spawn. Seasoned sailors whisper their names to the cabin boys: Oleg Gitarakula, leviathan of guitar and coral riffs, Zombirella, bass scylla and charybdis vocals, Zhenya, friendly kraken gongs and timpani. Cans of caviar from their unholy spawning grounds are washed up on shores all over the world. The current catch: eighteen eggs of excellent quality, fresh as a nine-point breeze, not large, by monstrous standards. The last album of Messer Chups (this is the common name of these creatures from Phoenician times) has already been in your bowls, Moon Dogs, with Our generous hands. Get ready to taste another portion of surf cooking with the mouth-watering name Don’t Say Cheese!
Horror Express rolls through ears and bodies with the speed and grace of a locomotive in love with death. An alarmingly shrill melody, withdrawal tremolo, sepulchral reverberation – all the components of authentic horror surf rock are evident. The right start. Heartbreak Boulevard is a twist with Zatsepin’s immortal saxophone drawing from The Caucasian Captive.
On vocals, Sean Wheeler from the California punk surf camarilla Throw Rag, his affectionate voice resembles Tom Waits, Sparky and all the station hooligans trapped in the same poorhouse. A thundercloud in the shape of Evgeny Morgunov looms over the Boulevard of Broken Hearts. Fun and scary.
Beware Of Sentimentality invites you to a sentimental walk with lightning flashes in anticipation of a tsunami. The drums are rumbling with the chariot of the ancient god. Pleasant weather, lyrical music… The Mummy is another twist, ancient Egyptian this time. Indiana Jones and Allan Quartermain famously dance to a zippy saxophone in the walls of forgotten tombs. Mr. Wheeler is having a dialogue with his inner mummy. Don’t worry, there are many more equally curious personalities in Sean’s mind, and there will be plenty of time until the end of the album.
Freddy Kruger’s Holiday is dedicated, as the name suggests, to the clawed-striped hatter’s weekend. Sometimes even such workaholics need rest, their work is exhausting. Kruger’s replacement, Zombirella, reads a nursery rhyme in the charming voice of Morticia Addams. And she’s doing so well that young people may soon have a new favorite nightmare. Teach your offspring this counting game.
Mini Skirt is a light-hearted summer tune. On a deserted beach, a couple infected with feelings and a pandemic. She’s wearing a tank top and a mini. She playfully devours him with her eyes. Not just with my eyes… Catzilla Strikes Again is an excellent action movie with Jericho sax and a raving mad vocalist. Sean Wheeler meows, releasing another essence from himself. Don’t call the exorcist, we need more songs like this.
The magical Nights In White Satin by the British The Moody Blues in the Messerchups version sounds three times faster and ten times more reckless. Now she belongs in the “eastern” about the Crusaders, and the name should be changed to Knights Of White Satan. Sweat and blood, samoom and horses… Cadabra Box Pandora Strip is a languid to the point of frivolity stroll. There was a Pandora in Pandora’s box. And she’s a stripper.
Crypt-A-Billy Tales are tales from Zombirella’s crypt, wrapped in cobwebs and an electric organ. Deadly funny. Deadly. The Wicked Game is the one, Chris Jack’s. Here, it’s cute and optional.
Robot Dance has a medium tempo and guitar passages in the spirit of the song “Shakin’ All Over”. Guess who else lives in Sean Wheeler’s head? And teach the transformers to dance, it’s a shame to watch how gigantic intergalactic robots disguise themselves as achievements of the earth’s automotive industry.
Minoriko is the Japanese goddess of harvest. Anti HA – some kind of antibodies from a chemical laboratory. Consequently, the title of the composition – Minorika Anti Ha Ha – has a sinister meaning. But he eludes me like a mermaid’s tail. A mysterious play. The unforgettable Blue Velvet, which delighted the ear in Lynch’s film of the same name, acquired an exotic sound, evoking thoughts of tropical archipelagos. A paradise of gourmets, swarthy natives, friendly idols. It’s not just a severed ear that can be found in the grass here…
Green Flippers appeared on the previous Messer Chup record, but now she is without a harp and the descent into the Maelstrom is even clearer and more inevitable. Just a glimpse of green fins. For the last time. I hope. Children Of Popcorn is nothing more than the famous “Popcorn”, played, characteristically, in a surf key. The film adaptation of S. King’s “Children of the Corn” lacked just this composition to sparkle with new colors.
The album is rounded out by versions of Catzilla Strikes Again and Robot Dance, differing only in the presence of Zombirella’s voice (music critics of the future will call her manner post mortem zomballadz) instead of Sean’s macabre wheezes. Compare it, they say…
To sum up the balance: a couple of extra numbers that make the sound somewhat monotonous may slightly spoil this generally excellent album. The presence of Sean Wheeler and the same possessed saxophone are absolute advantages. I also want to hear Zombirella at the microphone more often. Seven feet under the keel, six feet above the head, Moon Dogs!
Buy an album on BandCamp and support the musicians:
https://messer-chups.bandcamp.com/album/dont-say-cheese-4
Cool cover design as always from drummer MC – Rockin’ Eugene
https://www.facebook.com/rockineugenedesign
