Plastique

Empire Of The Black Suns (TMC)
by Martin Popoff

Total crap from a great label, Plastique sound like a garage band of 13-year-olds, mailing in sparse, under-produced alt.rock songs that sound like wimpy Helmet demos with no hooks, out-of-tune vocals, and laugh-out-loud nods to hip-hop shoehorned into these horrid tracks with the greatest of ankle pain. Barely angry, barely alive, wholly without talent, and shoe-gazed like weak Halifax grunge, this is 26 minutes of demo ineptitude that should’ve been tossed, twirling into the label’s reject basket. Unbelievable.
(106 W. 32nd St. 3rd Fl. New York, NY 10001)