The B-52’s
Funplex
Astralwerks, 2008
Dear B-52’s:
Hi. How are you?
I’d like to preface what I am about to do to your horrible new album Funplex by stating that your first two albums were absolutely amazing. You were so seminal in ushering in the new wave era and proving that pop music could be quirky, fun and weird, that it is important to note how difficult this is for me. Hell, I’m even one of the few people who will argue in favour of the redeeming qualities found in your mostly-abysmal ’80s output. This, however, is unacceptable.
I know this whole “dance rock” or “dancepunk” or “post punk” (or whatever insane term they’ve started using for it) thing is popular again, but let’s be completely honest here. There was no reason for you to come back. At all. You could have remained tucked away in the annals of pop culture for the rest of your lives, and maybe we would have eventually forgiven you for that whole Flintstones thing. You know the thing. Tiger skin loincloths. Big plastic instruments made to look like wood and stones. That thing. We might have forgotten all about it. Instead, 16 years after your last full-length album — half the length of time you’ve been an actual band — you decide to waltz back into our lives and drop a giant black and white brick into the middle of the modern musical landscape. Why? Fred Scheider, your nasal caterwauling has officially stopped being funny. The sound of your voice has shifted from “quirky” to “infuriating.” But okay, look, I’m getting a bit off-track. Let’s focus on the actual content of the record, shall we?
“Pump” sounds like every other B-52’s song ever recorded. The big difference here is that the sound has transformed into a sort of frightening mix of Dead Kennedys and Bloc Party. In fact, the more I listen to the instrumental part of this song, the more I’m beginning to think you just put new vocals over “Juice Box” by the Strokes. Also, “Pump” is a stupid name for a song. By the time “Ultraviolet” kicks in, I start to feel like every single beat on the album is exactly the same. There’s almost no variation from track to track. Oh sure, we get a few fills tossed in to try and add some zing, but really, it’s still exactly the fucking same. But, oh wait, look. It’s “Juliet Of Spirits.” Some kind of ballad? Oh cute, there’s some synth effects in there. Parts of it sound like a Pat Benatar song. Neat vocal effects too, but I still could go my entire life without ever hearing this song again.
You know something, B-52’s? After that, I just can’t go any further. That’s as far as I can stand to listen to this album in great detail again. On my first listen I had really hoped that I was just in a bad mood and Funplex wasn’t up my listening alley. My second listen, however, has proven that we’re not dealing with a bad mood, or a desire to hear something a little different. No, B-52’s, what we have here is a shitty album. A shitty album that you released at the absolute peak of your irrelevancy.
Please, B-52’s, go away. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I just really wish you’d go away and let the legacy of your first two albums stand as your crowning achievement. I don’t want you to become “that band that just sort of, you know, came back for no real reason.” So just do me one little favour? Retire. Go hunker down with your rock lobsters on Planet Claire. Just please, for the love of all that was new wave, fucking stop.
Love / Kisses,
Bryan Hopton
