Unlearny has said on several occasions, "when I first learned to write songs, every song was good and perfect. Each had verses, choruses, hooks, and they were all funny and memorable. They were like that because I wouldn't recognize anything as good or even as a song until it fit
those categories. Over time I learned that songs do not need any of those things to be good, and many of those good qualities are in fact bad. That is why so many of my songs seem so bad now, because they are actually transcendently good."
OMD meets OMFG and LMFAO meets STFU in UCUG's Post-Doctorate third year release, (inzert whatever the title is here), a coral of wild hits that no stable could ever hope to contain. But there is no need for to contain. They are herewithfor unto you and your mobile downloadables.
The cloud-based LP configuration begins with The Man Who Licked The World, clearly referencing a Bowie song which is better than it. The tracks strange mix is attributed to Ujam, an online program where you sing at your computer and it constructs the song around the vocal line for you. UCUG has worked with better producers, but hey, the price is right, if you know what I'm saying. There are in fact 4 Ujam tracks on UCUG's Allegorical Breakdance online configuration of electronic files, can you guess which ones they are?!?! Here's a hint: most of the songs herein are of an intolerable length, but not all...
Next is "Carpe Deus; The Umpire Bites Back" a title based on a drunken retelling of "The Dead Poets Society," which was confused with "Field of Dreams" and "Star Wars" at different points in the conversation. This song is proof of the longstanding theory that one can hear the phrase, "Invoke The Devil" within a single song an infinite number of times, and it never loses its Zing. This liner-note author is going to relisten to said track again now. "Invoke the Devil" You pretty much can blow out your eardrums if you listen to this song any louder than 3 on your receiver.
Gangrene Dream is sort of an angry fit the musician had while imagining what would happen if Vangelis and Tangerine Dream got in a knife fight, and Michael Claude Jarre had served as witness, later turning it into a lasershow.
Life is The Worst. Sometimes it feels this way, don't you think? Baby Love was a good song, but the title on it's own might skeeve you out.
Where's track number 5?
Track 6 is an electronic thing done online, an argument both for an against same. What is the fabric of your days? I wonder? Mine is linen, because of all the flax I eat.
Where's track number 7? 5 and 7 missing? Now that's odd. Shoot it was rilly trill, whatever that means.
Track 8 is some lute sample mac provides with it's basic suite of programs, and their "EDM" suite of midi instrument files. This song speaks to the cruelty indemic to the unlearning proccess. IT AINT NICE, BUT IT WORKS. Uh oh, more instrumentals without instruments. I guess you'd just call them mentals.
Trembling is somekind of neclassical meditation on bruce hornsby or something. It is pretty all right. Unlearny called it "Eric Satie crushes sixteen Bruce Hornsbys under the wheels of his steampunk monster truck"
Ewok thing, I like it. It is scary and cute. Seems like it should credit phil glass somewhere, but I can't find any such credit. Limitation is the sincerest form of something.
Tubs of it out black. Called by some "The scariest soundtrack to a romantic comedy ever written." You ever see "The Life of Brian?" It's funny. I should mention at this point that each track is dedicated to a specific brainwave frequency, meant to turn 34% of listeners into slack-jawed, UCUG worshippers, or door injecting marijuana freebasers.
Ugh, more later, I'm entering the Thetawave segment of the lp.
Okay wait a second here, where is track 12? That pulled the whole thing together! This is madness!
In the space where The Eurythmics meet cardiac arrhythmia, where Jesus Christ why the fuck won't those dogs shut the hell up?
The 4 axis CNC machine used on this album was programmed by the poutiest soprano of the now-embattled Vienna Poochy-Lipped Boys Choir.
This summer, the members of UCUG went to Slubfest in search of inspiration, and learned that Television performing live sounds like Verlaine is actively mocking his own vocals as he sings their drip dry ex-addict repetoire. Incredible. The Buzzcocks do not sound like that, but if they did it would be radz.
Punch out your own jams! Kick in the DRAMs. Whip up the lambs and zip up your vans tonight, babybites, we flyin kites to all your bromeos in the penzo, like ery stimpy got his renzo up in the club. Everything is going to be all right, aight? What's the length of your height, honeydew? Where you bruise cruisin' to tonight? Can't you see it's outta sight?
Gamma waves be trippin.
Word salad aside, Chaka Khan covers notwithstanding, theres some plunderphonica and faux dub-drospitality herein, singer songwriter emotions, the popping, locking and unlocking of the billion petalled crown chakra via the aural cavity available to the eager digital listenista young and old, man and beast. One should find, or be able to locate should she or he be so inclined, a multilayered, frenetic, fauvist soundsplorium interred here. With a thousand catch and release scenarios to attract and engage the overdrawn psyches of other unwilling and unsponsored participants in this, our societal 24/7/sex/death/celeb-obsessed boredomarathon.
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