Do you like breakup sex? No? You're a fucking retard.
Ok, so for those of you who do enjoy rolling around the sack with someone you could care less about a millisecond after blowing your load all over their damaged face, you might also enjoy the fast-paced, beautifully intelligent sound of Money/Paper/Hearts.
According to them, they sound like break up sex. And I just think that's brilliant. Because, they really do.
I shake my knee when I listen to them. And tap my desk. And sing really...
Do you like breakup sex? No? You're a fucking retard.
Ok, so for those of you who do enjoy rolling around the sack with someone you could care less about a millisecond after blowing your load all over their damaged face, you might also enjoy the fast-paced, beautifully intelligent sound of Money/Paper/Hearts.
According to them, they sound like break up sex. And I just think that's brilliant. Because, they really do.
I shake my knee when I listen to them. And tap my desk. And sing really really loud trying my hardest to imitate the unprocessed, intimidating sound that spews out of the angry chords of lead singer Jon Moore.
It gets stuck in your head. It gets stuck in my head. A lot. In random places. Always at work. Because work sucks and MPH doesn't. Or when I set out on my journey to work. A journey that's usually clouded with depressive trudgery. That's not a word. But who cares.
But it never fails. As soon as I turn on the ipod, the first song I scroll to is "Negative Feelings". From there, I just let the little guy sift through all seven songs of MPH's accelerated sounding debut album. Which you can get right here on the space.
http://www.myspace.com/moneypaperhearts
What I like about their music is how smart it is. Yet how simple it sounds. But brilliance always seems so easy. It's not. Trust me. But they pull it off. With every note. Every lyric. Every beat. And they do it through every song. "Trace to Sender" begins with a delicate guitar riff that explodes into a 90 mile per hour joyride down the American Scenic Highway. The shrill screams that end "Negative Feelings" send chills down your spine before shattering your pulse and spilling your soul onto the pavement. The calculated drum beats throughout "Jail Us", orchestrated in an angry pounding that would send any girl's snatch into vagina hangover mode. Bass instinct, streamlined in "She Was My Vietnam", fingers attacking, dropping hints of, 'yeah, we know what the fuck we're doing here' all over the goddamn place.
They do things to you. But you have to give them time. One listen isn't enough. Enough to seep into your skin. It might strike a nerve, but this band doesn't feel like striking anything. Only a full blown attack will do. And they succeed. Keeping you up at night. Your leg still shaking to a beat that continues to play on a perpetual loop inside your head, causing you to peer over at your computer. Just one more listen. Just one more song. But one song just won't do. So, unless you want to be kept up at night, I suggest pulling the covers over your head, closing your eyes and praying to God morning comes quickly.
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