Moistboyz, a long-running side-project of Mickey Melchiondo (a.k.a. Dean Ween), is immediately open to questions of authenticity. Ween, of course, has made a long and glorious career of tongue-in-cheek genre fuckery, so when confronted with IV’s amps-to-eleven mix of dirty ’70s rock and vicious ’80s thrash, listeners are bound to wonder how much the ‘Boyz really mean it.


    Don’t let all that pondering get in the way of enjoying one of the year’s most purely fun rock releases. It doesn’t matter where “Mickey Moist” Melchiondo and bandmate Guy “Dickie Moist” Heller are coming from; they’ve got the chops and conviction to pull this shit off without the slightest hitch. This is 12 Golden Country Greats for metalheads.


    The Moistboyz have always sported a mean Libertarian streak (don’t fuck with their cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, girls, cars, or rock ‘n’ roll), IV sports a newfound political awareness, which predictably is rooted purely in self-interest. The one-two punch of “I Don’t Give a Fuck Where the Eagle Flies” and “Uncle Sam and Me” starts the record off on a high note: The band (rounded out by long-time Ween collaborator Claude Coleman on drums) demonstrates its ability to churn out bombastic, effortlessly catchy fist-pumping anthems. It sounds like Alice Cooper if he had been commissioned to write a song for the Team America soundtrack (and, of course, if he were still good). Elsewhere, the record takes a turn for the personal, when Heller articulates his intense hatred of police (“Officer Please”), pedophiles (“Roy“), women (“The Stalker,” “Everybody’s Fucked Her”) and, well, everyone (“Fuck You”).


    But isn’t this offensive? All this white-trash posturing (there’s even a song here called “White Trash”) by smug suburban hippies? Didn’t we learn in college about the danger of speaking for others, of the inherent “wrongness” of adopting a persona for the sake of cashing in via cheap stereotypes? Maybe, but we also learned that academia’s gate-keepers of decency have no sense of humor and no idea how to rock (take that, bell hooks). If you’re in line with them, you better stick to the Decemberists.


    Because who gives a fuck about anything anymore? Mickie and Dickie certainly don’t. Do and say whatever you want, especially if it’s shrouded in ear-splitting, in-the-red distortion. Who can argue with that?



    Moistboyz Web site:

    Ween Web site: (Ween Site)


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