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DEMONS
I remember my days as a small fry sitting in class salivating over my teacher’s juicy fins and lips. I never passed one test but all I have to say is thank god for porn. The only schools I swim in now specialize in 30-on-1 action. So when I hear "Academy" in the name of a band, I start to get hard immediately. Let me tell you, high expectations can really suck.
"Saturday Night" has to be the worst-written rock song ever recorded. With lines like "In my pocket, there’s a number. I don’t know how it got there." and "Saturday night is a state of mind" – thanks Billy Joel – "And there’s someone on the couch I haven’t met," hey guys, get ready, the Grammy nomination is on its way. Echhh! This song, like most of the album, makes me want to swim into the propeller of an oncoming boat.
The story of the band’s near break-up printed inside the CD is touching. If you were METALLICA, sure, why not, give us the insider’s view. But you’re LIARS ACADEMY. No one cares if you almost didn’t make 12 more mediocre songs. All right, so maybe they’re not that bad.
If I’m being harsh it’s only because I’ve got a bad case of blue gills from not getting any poohah over the weekend. I had to call up the usually reliable Dial-a-Whore since my regulars were all dropping eggs upriver, but this time the bastards sent me a wrinkled old tranny Bass with a mouth the size of a pinhead. With Liar Academy’s sweet ballad called "Breathing" playing in the background, I had as much fun as I could with her using a hook and a plug-in gilldo. Hey, make do – that’s my motto.
Anyway, the lead singer Ryan Shelkett sounds like a bland version of Adam Duritz from Counting Crows and their music is all easy-going rock, which fat drunk college chicks might love to dance on stage to (if they also had some roofies in them).
I thought I saw them as the featured cover band on a Wednesday night at one of those scum-joints along Delaware Avenue in Philly where I troll for fatties. I was scoring big and I told my catch, I said, "Hold your breath girls while I put one in you, because any moment these guys might break into a Better Than Ezra song."
Shelkett and crew shouldn’t have bothered splitting up the tracks on their album. It would be better as a single long track, 12 back-to-back slammin’ riffs, with pauses in between (hey everybody needs a few breathers, even Big Dick). By the way guys, thanks for not including the liner notes.
I don’t want to be all negative though. The hole in the middle of the CD should come in handy next time the stream is lookin’ bare!
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