Suck (Go-Kart)
by Scott Hefflon
If the name Boris the Sprinkler is unfamiliar to you and yer a fan of dippy, manic punk a la the Ramones, get Suck. Truthfully, this is probably the only full-length you’ll be able to find cuz despite having records on various small labels, you’d be hard-pressed to find any of them (unless you live down the street from the band). If you haven’t heard, this is former MaximumRockNRoll columnist, Rev. Nørb’s band, and the guy can rant out a song as well as he can rant in that archaic medium, print. Admitted cheeseheads, Boris the Sprinkler prove that punk as a genre would be a helluva lot more fun if more bands just got out there and goofed around. While many bands claim to be having a good time and in it for fun, it’s kinda surprising that it still comes across as just more music to clog the shelves, doesn’t it? Not that the good Reverend is the savior of style or anything, but after all the preaching, it’s good to have monkey sounds passed off as lyrics. The closing moments of “Do the Sprinkle” set it all up so you don’t have to think so hard – “Everybody’s going ‘pssst! pssst! pssst! pssst!'”
It begins with a monologue, interrupted by a spokesman saying the band took a vote and decided the monologues were making the records suck. Rev. Nørb had to agree, but did convince the others to let him announce the songs. And so, in cheesy announcer voice, Nørb reads the titles of the songs. Literally. As in, “My Radio is Telling Me to Kill, open parenthesis, The Guys on My Radio, close parenthesis.” And for those who miss lyrics like “Ah whop bop a loo bop ah whop bam boom” and “Oh ma-mow-mow, ba-ba oh mow mow-mow,” yer search is over. Beyond all the “whoa-whoa”s and “yeah-yeah”s of many Ramones-derived bands, Boris the Sprinkler not only sing “Hey Shazam-ma-mam-mam-ma-mam-ma-mam-a-mam-mam,” they transcribe it! Like in “Purple Vulcan Hot Rod,” the lyric is noted as “P-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-p-purple Vulcan hot rod.” And the ending is a couple continuous bars of Ps. Get it yet? There are 15 songs listed, but after a quick closing monologue, the spokesman pipes in again saying the album’s going to suck cuz Nørb spoke too damn much, so they redo the entire album as song 17 (24 minutes), and then tack the extended-with-key-changes-solos-and-assorted-tomfoolery remix of “Do the Sprinkler” at the end until the record is finally over, ending with “pssst! pssst! pssst! pssst! … OK, fuck it, that’s enough.” Different people draw the line at different places, I guess.
(PO Box 20 Prince St. Station New York, NY 10012)