DISGRUNTLED DAD REVIEWS With DAVE MUSTCOMPLAIN: PHARMACIST – VERTEBRAE AFTER VERTEBRAE

When I heard I would be reviewing the new album by some band called Pharmacist, I got pretty excited. After all, my old buddy Chet worked as a pharmacist’s assistant back in the early 80s, and we spent many a wild night partying with the quaaludes he used to pilfer from his dumbshit boss before he suddenly shifted off this mortal coil. Those pills were great for sitting in your mother’s basement while listening to ZZ Topp, but not so much for driving your ’77 AMC Gremlin. Turns out stolen quaaludes don’t make you impervious to telephone poles. RIP Chet. Anyway, maybe this Pharmacist band had their own NAPLEX-certified sedative hookup and wanted to relive the glory days via song. Hell, I’d love to listen to some solid rock ‘n roll that hearkens back to the years before I fucked my life up flatter than hammered shit by spawning two ungrateful little whelps with Doreen, so let’s get into it. Maybe MetalSucks didn’t completely fuck the dog with this album pick like they did the last two. Third time’s the charm, right?

Track 1: “Propelling Inwards”

Goddamnit, I should’ve known. What the hell is this? I’m not entirely sure what “Propelling Inwards” means, and I’m not familiar enough with computers to feel comfortable looking up the lyrics, but I sincerely doubt this song is about finger-blasting Chet’s older sister Patty who’s home from Illinois State while he’s upstairs ordering pizza. Do these guys even know what a good time is? These drums are going to give me a goddamn shit conniption.

Track 2: Vertebrae After Vertebrae

So, my editors over at MetalSucks have informed me that this band is heavily influenced by another band called Carcass, in particular their album Symphonies of Sickness. They didn’t think to tell me this before I wrote my introduction to this little missive? I revealed some very personal information about my life in the eighties back there, and all for one of those headbangy bands that sing about cutting people’s heads off, or whatever. It’s ungodly, is what it is.

Track 3: Endogenica

Do chicks like this music? Ugh, sorry, I can already hear the P.C. Police heading in my direction. Do women like this music? I find it highly doubtful. They used to go over the moon for my Kansas tribute band, The Wayward Sons, and you’d better believe hotshot guitarist Dave Mustcomplain was the one drowning in all the trim. Goddamn, those were the days. Maybe these Pharmacist guys would get their dicks wet from time to time if their music didn’t scare the Christ out of people.

Track 4: Lazure Sphacelation

I know I’ve harped on this in the past, but what’s with all the screaming? I would chalk this up to me getting old and just not understanding it, but it’s the subsequent generations that are wrong. There’s no way this is a case of me being out of touch.

Track 5: Mimicring the Organics

If MetalSucks is going to have me review albums like this, they should at least pay for me to take the MCAT or some shit. Pretty sure I could perform my own quadruple bypass from the knowledge I’m likely retaining from these lyrics. That way I could eat as many Hardee’s Hand-Breaded Chicken Biscuits as I damn well please without having to listen to Doreen bitch about how I’m “just begging for a third heart attack.” Give it a rest, you old bag.

Track 6: Bubonic Malacia Bloom

I still have another track left after this? Come on, fellas, my lawn’s not gonna mow itself, and the Cubs are playing the Giants at 6:05. Let’s wrap this up.

Track 7: Zenith of Mnemonic Forensication

You know, these guys wouldn’t be so bad if they slowed down a bit and wrote a couple love songs. Maybe introduced an acoustic guitar into the mix. Hey Pharmacist, if you’re reading this, why don’t you give me a call? I can be your manager, and I promise I’ll have you opening for Robert Plant in no time. Just some food for thought.

Phew, that’s it. 0/5 stars. I wish I still had some of those quaaludes to calm me down after that hectic listening experience. Disgruntled Dad out.

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