On a recent Friday I was sitting at home amusing my daughter when my brother called. Our conversations are usually short and to the point. Neither of us is particularly fond of blathering on for hours on the telephone. We only call for good reason.

“Hello,” I answered, thankful for caller ID. “What’s going on?”

“I am experiencing hell on earth,” he said forsaking formalities. “This is the worst place I’ve been in a long time.”

I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was serious.

“Where are you?” I asked with a half laugh while putting my child in her crib. The faint sound of doodling electric guitar in the background told me it was no place good.

He blurted angrily, “I’m at the Keller Williams show at Friday Cheers. I want to kill these people. It’s horrible. I don’t even know why I’m here. Can you hear how horrible it is?” He held the phone up to the music seeking my confirmation. After a few seconds of muffled hippie grooves, he added, “I think I have to vomit.”

He went on like this for a good two minutes. Of the two of us, Eric is the more charitable when comes to music. I’m the one who usually froths at the mouth while he opts to expound sage wisdom regarding a band’s purely subjective artistic merits. But this time I was amazed at how genuinely disgusted he sounded.

“I can’t take it anymore. I’ll talk to you later,” he said hanging up.

Later, I went online to see if Keller Williams was as bad as my brother claimed. Sure enough, he was right. It is awful. I’ll concede that Williams is a technically accomplished player, but I would gladly consume the contents of my daughter’s poopie diapers before listening to his music again.
But hey, that’s me. You may find nirvana in his vaguely Dave Matthews-inspired drivel, but all I hear is syphilis.

That said, the following recordings—in my ever so humble opinion—are worthy of airtime in any ear. After all, life is too short to endure one more second of mindless hippie noodling.

Messer Chups
Hyena Safari (Aero CCCP Recordings)
The second release from this creepy crawly duo from Russia is 1950’s B-horror film surf music that mixes Cramps styled rock & roll sleaziness with the sound collage techniques of the Tape Beatles. Messer Chups specialize in a campy instrumental decadence offering Dick Dale/Johnny Rivers guitar riffs, spooky spoken word samples and searing keyboard intrusions in their quest to be the audio equivalent of Vincent Price’s house of horrors. Aggressively melodic with a flair for the sublime, the band proves that there is an infinite amount of ways to do the monster mash.
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Chicha Libre
Amazonicas! (Barbes Records)
Rooted in the driving rhythms of Peruvian cumbia music, Chicha Libre infuse the Latin American music form with psychedelic pop, surf guitar, farfisa organs and moog synthesizers to get the mind and body moving in blissful unison. Swanky without being repulsively hip, the group’s seamless blending of audio idioms is an organic manifestation of global influences. From the debonair pulse of “El Borrachito” to their spy movie version of Hot Butter’s classic instrumental “Popcorn” (rechristened as, “Popcorn Andino” ), Chicha Libre’s musical innovations are a joy to behold. Listening to this recording, you realize that it really is a small world after all.
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Brainworms
Which Is Worse (Rorschach Records)
Richmond’s own Brainworms play propulsive, 80s-styled punk rock overflowing with attitude, wit and clenched fist determination. Singer Greg Butler is a dead ringer for Negative Approach/Laughing Hyenas front man John Brannon and he’s perfectly suited for handling the group’s Jesus Lizard agitations. The antagonistic fun of “Break Down the Pajama Walls,” “Bohemian Stairbird” and “Phat Intentions” are impossible to resist. Which is Worse is an exhilarating listen for those who need a little combative zeal in their music. Be sure to turn it up.
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