Thanks to the pioneering spirit of the Insane Clown Posse, Marilyn Manson, and Tommy Lee, shock rock these days generates about as much interest as a burning crucifix dipped in urine with Alice Cooper strangling sheep in the background. Which is to say, no one gives a shit. You've got to work to really offend people. With all taboos shattered, ultraviolent gangsta fantasies fully realized, and every profane/amoral/obscene utterance seized and gleefully repeated ad nauseam, those who made their living shocking people now find themselves muttering obscenities in the unemployment line.
Enter Mindless Self Indulgence, a New York-based rap-punk-metal quartet with an entire ideology built around the word "motherfucker." Dig the death-metal chords, the industrial/jungle breakbeats, the maniacal growl/falsetto of lead singer Little Jimmy Urine. Dig how every song sounds like drastically, unnecessarily sped-up Korn by way of Alvin and the Chipmunks. What we have here, essentially, is the most pointless, atonal, and astonishingly annoying soundtrack to the worst Atari game ever. This may seem a little extreme, but one tends not to wax extra philosophical while listening to a song revolving around the lyric "I love my mommy 'cause she fucked my dad." The MSI game plan involves masking its musical incompetence with the most offensive lyrics it can think up.
Thus, we get lots of feminist-baiting, lots of gay-baiting, and lots of old-rock-star-baiting, all exemplified in songs such as "Bitches," "Faggot," and "I Hate Jimmy Page," respectively. As all the press on these boneheads gleefully points out, they target the easily offended, but in this age of Showgirls, Columbine, and Internet porn, who's really gonna bat an eyelash in the direction of these losers? Mindless Self Indulgence's twin obsessions with tunelessness and godlessness have garnered inexplicable comparisons to the young Beastie Boys, but no one will mistake this drivel for Paul's Boutique. -- Rob Harvilla
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