Reviews

Murder Boy Music

Tiger Helicide Fuck! We Forgot to Write Hits! CD

They might have forgotten to write hits, but if you’re here for some true freak sounds, then you’ve come to the right place. Seems like TIGER HELICIDE doesn’t give a shit what I think, because this disc is all over the fukkn place—beer-drenched shitpunk, garage pop, no-fi bedroom grind nonsense…and that’s just three tracks selected at random. There’s merit here, but it takes a bit of sifting—if you can make it through to “Death Rays & Razor Blades” (the seventeenth of eighteen tracks, and a case study in repetition), then you win, because that song rips. If you listen to the song after that one…? Then you lose.

 

Tiger Helicide Desensitized CD

Bonehead punk from Alabama made by bonehead punks. Repetitive riffs and simplistic songwriting that is composed of exact-rhyme quatrains gets old fast. The subject matter runs the gamut from axe murderers to punk scene fantasies to the Zodiac Killer, but none of it is captivating enough to keep interest for very long. Even “Jerkin’ Off,” at 39 seconds, feels too long, since it’s basically the title sung over and over again. TIGER HELICIDE stretches out a bit with the slow, dirge-like “I’ll Be Your Failure,” and the nearly six-minute, organ-driven “I Gotta Headache,” which would be a welcome change if the songs had more to them and were a third of the playing time. I did like the lyrics to “Zodiac Killer” because they are so random: “Zodiac Killer / Did he die of cancer? / Was he hit by a Ford Taurus? / Zodiac Killer.” Why a Taurus, the beigest of family cars? If your band is on the road and needs an opener in rural Alabama, check these folks out. Otherwise, you are probably okay without them.