#33

Man Man
Six Demon Bag
(Ace Fu)

Initially, I didn’t want to, couldn’t like this album. Too rambunctious, too over the top (but not cool like Sly Stallone). I think I was finally reacting to all that ADD-core that was put out the past few years – my brain just kind of doesn’t accept it anymore and shuts down at the sound or inkling of overtly genre-hopping music. Add to that a ridiculous and horrible sounding show at the First Unitarian Church in Philly (one of the worst venues ever) that just left me confounded and totally turned off.

Fast-forward a few months and an open-minded trial run and I can’t stop “FEE, FIE, FOE, FUM, I SMELL THE BLOOD OF AN ENGLISH MANNN!” bouncing off the sides of my brain. Six Demon Bag is tight front to back, with incredible arrangements and choice instrumentation. But the thing I missed, the most important thing, is the songwriting. It succeeds on every level with attention to detail you’d be hard pressed to find in most indie bands’ catalogues (e.g. “Van Helsing Boombox”).

And yeah, it’s over the top, full of weirdly trendy gypsyisms, on and on. But like Stallone’s other character and fellow Philadelphian, it’s full of arm raising glory.