Electric Six Are Going To Kill You

To say that Electric Six have “matured” would be to imply that the brow has been lifted, the sequins traded in for finer linens and the lyrics no longer contain explicit sexual innuendos. This would be misleading. If you’re not familiar with Electric Six, imagine Prince as a handful of white men from Detroit after a 76-hour Anchorman marathon, and you’d have one foot in the door of understanding this special blend of sex-charged fun-rock.

Returning with Kill, their sixth and easily most aggressive album, Dick Valentine and company leave no room for debate on whether the band has gotten comfortable in their formula. This time they’ve gone fully down the rabbit hole and embraced the demons they’ve flirted with since their 2003 debut, Fire, pushing the complexity envelope and digging deeper into the color palette than their previous efforts.

It’s not easy to fight the temptation to let this review consist entirely of the lyrics on Kill, because Dick Valentine’s mastery of the obtusely hilarious narrative is truly the cornerstone of the band’s essence. But that would be a bit of a journalistic cop-out, no? Can’t have that. So let’s walk the fine line and see where it takes us.

After the oppressive seduction of first single Body Shot, Waste Of Time And Money follows with a night-prowling monster romance built on electric overdrive, high-stepping keys and pounding drums that immediately signify a greater sonic depth than their previous five albums.

Once I saw the galaxies in your Jack & coke eyes / and the sacrifical temple where your monster always dies, Valentine reflects before tales of eating cardboard and pet kimodo dragons. If a comic book were made about this song, the guitar solo would be illustrated with a skeet, skeet, skeet word bubble coming off the fretboard. It’s an explosion of sex-charged rock that builds to a climax that finds Valentine counter-harmonizing with himself.

The mood is set for the desperate romance of Steal Your Bones with a classical guitar intro, before Valentine ruminates on making a thousand clones of his muse. Evolution rolls the dice, but we can be so much more precise, he croons, and it’s hard not to get on the genetic manipulation train while listening. The obnoxiously supercharged Auto-Tune fun of Newark Airport Boogie is breathless flirtation with the anthemic, hinging on the line It doesn’t matter how you sing along, just sing along! Ultimately, that very concept is a core part of the Electric Six M.O. – especially at their shows. If this album does anything at all for you, you owe it to yourself to find a little live music shack near you where they’re playing and see for yourself.

What makes Electric Six unique isn’t limited to the brazen, overtly-sexual essence of the band; they’re masters at taking you places you’re not sure you really want to go – at first. That feeling you get just before the acid really kicks in, that everything-feels-weird sense of hyperawareness where you’re not entirely sure if things are meant to sound/look/feel the way that they do, is perfectly captured in Egyptian Cowboy. It’s beyond over the top, encapsulating everything both ridiculous and fantastic about Electric Six, but some fans may find it a bit too weird.

As Valentine declares that The only reason you’re here today is because we need you to Kill!, we’re reminded that the synth work of Tait Nucleus and counterplay between guitarists Johnny Na$hinal and The Colonel (all their natural birth names, I’m sure) don’t strike the ear as mere supporting roles anymore. The layers of instrumentation and complex arrangements the band lays beneath Dick’s vocals are more colorful, captivating and unpredictable than ever before. There’s plenty of fun experimentation, but never once does it seem as if Electric Six aren’t dead serious about their work.

Sometimes the obnoxious gets a little out of hand, however. The sleazy danceability of One Sick Puppy wears thin on the endless repetition of the title line, but the pounding drums drowns out the complaints of those with pubes stuck in their teeth. You’re Bored clocks in at a breathless minute-forty-five, but does little to invigorate beyond the pounding drums of Percussion World.

Is this album as preposterous as it seems on paper? Absolutely. Kill doesn’t boast single-worthy tracks that packed some of their previous albums, but somehow it’s all the better for it. There’s no denying, however, that Electric Six have once again succeeded at making Tenacious D look like the immensely overrated hacks that they are, and would give Prince a run for his money in a showdown between acts so confident about their absurd sexiness that it actually works.

Other telling lyrical highlights of Kill include:

I don’t have much to offer you but when I’m in it once, that’s a membership into the sisterhood of things that taste good in their natural juices.

Come a little closer/ be my Kenny Rogers poster.

These songs don’t write themselves / I got a music workshop run by elves / Making dozens of records by the twelves / Stocking our product on IKEA shelves.

Livin’ in the basement and losing my mind / Smokin’ mother nature until I go blind.

I could do this all day. Or, your could just go in for the Kill yourself. It’s better that way.

Kill
October 20, 2009
Metropolis Records

1. Body Shot
2. Waste Of Time And Money
3. Egyptian Cowboy
4. Escape From Ohio
5. Rubbin’ Me The Wrong Way
6. One Sick Puppy
7. Steal Your Bones
8. My Idea Of Fun
9. I Belong In A Factory
10. The Newark Airport Boogie
11. Simulated Love
12. You’re Bored
13. White Eyes