Hmmm … What is there to say about this? Liam Lynch is a funny guy. Hilarious at times. From his name and nerdy fey look I pegged him as a Brit but no, he’s a Yank. Funny. From Ohio, where he grew up with Matt Crocco, whom he created Sifl and Ollie with. That was always a damn hoot. Especially that sidekick, Chester. I want to hug and hold Chester. Too cute.
Give Lynch a mike and two socks and he’ll have you rolling. Give him an IMac and guitar and you’ll be rolling your eyes. That said, Fake Songs is not funny. Not one bit. Think Moesha. Think Carrot Top. Whoa.
Lynch directed a few videos, too, for Tenacious D and the Foo Fighters. Maybe you’ve seen them? Maybe they’re funny? He’s also got a gig with Ben Stiller’s production company to make a movie starring Tenacious D. Jack Black sure is funny. He joins Lynch for a track on “Fake Songs” but it’s not funny. The same could be said for much of Jack’s film work: funny guy, unfunny movies. Lynch also recruits Ringo Starr, who drums a bit on the record, and he was funny in that Pizza Hut commercial a few years back.
Really, though, what do you expect from this CD? It’s a collection of home recorded “fake songs” that borrow from new wave, metal, pop, hip-hop and techno to make song parodies and spoofs that don’t warrant a second listen. It’s got an awful guitar-run-straight-through-the-mixing-board sound backed with tinny drum machine beats and lyrics that rarely rise above inane smell-my-finger-it-smells-like-pooh-type class clowning.
Lynch studied under Paul McCartney at the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts and while his poppy chops shine through on much of Fake Songs, his humor falls short of his hooks. The series of “fake songs” aimed at Bjork, David Bowie, the Pixies, Depeche Mode and Jane’s Addiction are pretty deft spoofs of each but aren’t much more amusing than you’d imagine competent parodies would be. The rest of the disc is joke-y filler songs for shock jock radio shows. If anything, this CD has strengthened my resolve to always say “no” when accosted by comedy club promoters on the street who ask, “Do you like to laugh?” Go buy the David Cross CD instead. That’s a funny ass man.