Word: thrash
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...from the former East bloc. Even in the puritanical Middle East, charter flights full of Russian women disembark weekly at Dubai's airport, ply their trade on 14-day visas and head home, loaded with color television sets. At the Gallery, a Brussels nightclub, a naked Hungarian couple thrash about in what appears to be a live sex act, to tape-recorded groans. Across the Belgian capital at the Aloha Club, Lenka, a 21-year-old Czech stripper, outfitted in fake leopard skin, entertains clients with $470 magnums of champagne. Half the peep shows in town are now staffed...
Beguiled by psychology, incapable of being shocked, you bourgeois Americans have lost the pleasure gained in contravening rules, and subtly undermining censorship. The one good thing about repression and Victorian sexual mores is that they are fun to transgress. Once they are gone, you can only thrash about in a pool of uncertainty, kept afloat by dedication to the significance of your psyche. Can anyone be truly satisfied with such frankness? Revelation and disguise can be much more entertaining than display...
...collection principally is a sampling of their second, third, and fourth albums, Freaky Styley, The Uplift Mofo Party Plan, and Mother's Milk. These, plus the first album The Red Hot Chili Peppers (which is represented by only two of the 18 songs on Hits), represent the thrash element of their music, which became overidden by funk on Blood. Hits begins with "Higher Ground," a Stevie Wonder song made heavy (and worse), then moves into four songs from Party Plan...
Also missing are two from Mother's Milk: "Subway to Venus," with superb bass lines and a great horns section, and "Sexy Mexican Maid," an excellent example of the Peppers' ability to mix funk and thrash. Their absence especially hurts as one can only wonder why the group included the 17th song, the horrific and banal "Catholic School Girls Rule," and the last song "Johny Kick a Hole in the Sky," which is little more than mediocre...
...with a minute of static morse-code dashes which flicker in like a weak TV signal, then coagulate into a discrete pulse of white noise. An electronic church bell chimes in the distances. Then the whole soundscape explodes into a furious riot of 130-plus beat per-minute drums, thrash-synth and Trent Reznor's ragged vocals. The song zaps into silence four and a half minutes later...