Review by Darren Gawle
"They fuckin' ROCK!"Oh, they fuckin' ROCK all right. Everybody in this town fuckin' ROCKS these days. You're not a real man unless you fuckin' ROCK. You have no right to free musical expression in this city unless you fuckin' ROCK. And thanks to all this fuckin' ROCK, I have a headache now.
Midge seem like the kind of guys who like to party, but who never show up with any beer (at least not any that they're willing to share). What am I on about? Well, sure, they love to play live and rock the house (what musician doesn't?), but there really doesn't seem to be much evidence of thought behind the songwriting they have to give us in return.
The six tracks on When Exactly... are loud and angry, just like most other industrial punk bands around these days, and they're not even all that great for that, sounding like a selection of half-baked riffs with only two different vocal phrasing styles doled out between the six songs. There's also a distinct lack of real sonic power to divert the listener's attention from the 'empty calories' vibe you get from the disc. And, so, we're led to another quote from the audience:
"They're original. That's not something I say every day."No, they're not original, and that's unfortunately something I do say every day. If they really tried to reach for the stars, Midge could pull the whole universe down on top of us. As it is, they're just another tattooed, bleach-blonde industrial band treading water. Pity.
Artist Contact Info: #101 - 1184 Denman St., Box 118, Vancouver, B.C., Canada, V6G 2M9, email@example.com
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