The Poacher Diaries (Relapse)
by Tim Den
I’ve never been a fan of either band, and I’m reminded why with The Poacher Diaries. Madness for madness sake, spazzing out like a little kid who doesn’t know what to do when faced with a real dilemma (the dilemma here: How to write songs). Agoraphobic Nosebleed takes Mortician’s laughable use of a drum machine to a new level, pushing the limits of the little black box to spew out 3000 bpm tempos that you could really care less about. Seriously, my high school gym teacher could’ve come up with the same thing by jamming down on all the buttons. Why you would want to do that instead of use it to craft something is beyond me. Sure, it’s good for shits’n’giggles (like the first time you heard Anal Cunt), but the joke runs dry in about three seconds. Creating jumbled madness is about as easy as playing three-chord punk. Just because you sound like a tornado doesn’t mean you have any real physical effect on the listener. And no, you’re not worth people’s time just because you’re “artsy.” In case you were wondering, Converge is a little better (they 1] attempt to write a little more, 2] uselessly spazz-out a little less, and 3] actually have a real drummer who tries), but not much.