This is some dreary pop, and I’m not sure whether Brian Glaze knows how dreary it actually sounds, or if he just doesn’t give a damn. He was the first drummer in the infamous Brian Jonestown Massacre, and he’s worked with Greg Ashley from the Gris Gris, but here he’s flying completely solo, and the world is none the better for it. He tries to bring some white-freak soul, I think, but he ends up falling all over the place, making a downright fool of himself.
The lo-fi agony of “Killing Time” speaks for the entire album, with a raw, self-recorded quality that doesn’t warrant its release in this questionable form. And “Sticky Cash Girls” is cute and clever, but if you had to decide if it was going to fill a spot on a compilation CD, and you were running out of space, you’d have to think long and hard about it. On the song, “Leader of the Band” he’s been said to sound like the retarded offspring of Elton John and Ariel Pink, but he lacks the well-worn melodrama of Elton’s early stuff, and he can’t reanimate a song with the same fucked–up panache as Mr. Pink. He’s just another noisy wanker on this set of songs.