Showing posts with label Escape From Party Island. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Escape From Party Island. Show all posts

TURKEY SALMON
“Love Acid Daydream
(Escape from Party Island)





I’ve lurked upon an internet conversation recently (because I don’t really contribute, I’m much more of a popcorn-crunching entertainment hog wallowing in the filth of everybody else’s problems) that basically hypothesized that if you have a really, really, terribly, I mean REALLY stupid band name (or artist name), then your music was directly proportional to the shittiness of said name. Let’s test it out with Turkey Salmon, one of the absolute worst names I’ve come across. (I mean really, unless this artist is the son of former California Angels outfielder Tim Salmon, who hated his newborn son so much from the get-go that he named him with a proportional hatred, this Turkey Salmon clown has no real reason to step out into public with a recording moniker so obviously culled from indecision at the grocery store.)

(This catastrophe is on you, Jason Miller.)

OK, synthesizer warble run through a badly tracked VHS player – check. That’s a good start. Let’s see … the rest is sub Flock of Seagulls, who I actually kind of like. You know what? Something called “Turkey Salmon” doesn’t get any more of my time. I won’t go so far as suggesting the music is as bad as the band name, but here’s some advice for you kids: If you want us to take you seriously, don’t name your project “Turkey Salmon.”

https://escapefrompartyisland.bandcamp.com/music

--Lettuce Apple

COMPS “self-titled”
(Escape from Party Island)




Breezy like Archer Prewitt or Real Estate or maybe Car Seat Headrest, COMPs, formerly Compliment City (aw, I like that one), is Geoffrey C. Webb of somewhere in Michigan, a bedroom pop auteur with an ear for candy-coated melody. And while my cousin Jeff would be mocking Webb for spelling his name wrong, I will not stoop to such ridiculous lows. Here on his self-titled debut cassette, Webb collects two EPs, “I Love My Fucking Pets” (side A) and “pip pap pop” (side B, and from which the cover art is taken). Pleasant, unchallenging indie never sounded so sweet, so much like a “Final Fantasy” character lovingly holding a cartoon sheep. Try to get the unrelenting jangle out of your head, the pure misty-eyed wistfulness of youth out of your heart, and you’ll just be thwarted, frustrated by Webb’s songcraft, written and recorded in a stumbling frenzy, quick and unvarnished, reminiscent of teenage melodrama. Fall in love or break up, I don’t care. This is Webb’s version of everything.

COMPs
Escape from Party Island

--Ryan

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