King Missile

Happy Hour

King Missile - Happy Hour ©1992 Atlantic
1. Untitled track
2. Sink
3. Martin Scorsese
4. (Why Are We) Trapped?
5. It's Saturday
6. VvV (VulvaVoid)
7. Metanoia
8. Detachable Penis
9. Take Me Home
10. Ed
11. Anywhere
12. The Evil Children
13. Glass
14. And
15. King Murdock
16. I'm Sorry
17. Heaven
18. Happy Hour

This album is a dream.

This album is a wet dream.

This album is a wet dream for a music reviewer.

And why does it deserve such an accolade? Because only once in a great while does the opportunity to use great streams of capital letters and multiple exclamation points in an album review come about. This is that album. BECAUSE IT STINKS!!!!!!! HAPPY HOUR IS THE DULLEST, MOST MEDIOCRE PIECE OF CRAP I HAVE EVER HEARD IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!!!!!!!!! MY EARS ARE NOW POLLUTED FOR ALL ETERNITY!!!!!!!! DAMN YOU TO HELL, KING MISSILE!!!!!!!!

Seriously, I can write better songs than these and I can't play a note. Put this disc on at a party and everyone will leave. Put the songs on a mix tape and you'll never hear from the recipient again. When I put this on to review it, I couldn't stomach more than the first 30 seconds of each of the first six tracks. Sitting through an extra-large slab of Valium like Happy Hour is duller, although slightly less headache-inducing, than the Jingle Cats' album of Christmas carols on repeat.

The sole exception from jazz-rock Muzak hell is "Detachable Penis," which is funny in a dry way and the only reason I keep this coaster in my collection. That, and not even the trained monkeys at The Wherehouse trade desk are dumb enough to take such an albatross. If I paid money for the disc, I would've committed hari-kiri (notice that I purposefully use the vulgar phrase "belly-cutting" as opposed to the dignified term "seppuku") out of shame long ago, but I got Happy Hour for free and can therefore go on living.

"Detachable Penis" is a droll little number about a fellow who got drunk at a party, misplaced his detachable penis, and had to buy it back from a homeless street merchant. If you're lucky, you may hear it on the radio when a DJ knows he's going to be fired soon and no longer gives a damn what his station manager will do.

If someone gives you this disc for free, take it and only play track eight. Wear latex gloves so you don't catch a disease from the other songs, but take it anyway. However, if that person wants so much as a penny, run far and run fast. Unless you really like songs about...never mind. The other tracks just plain suck and I don't even want to think about them.

Review by Jonathan Arnett

Review date: 08/1999

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