RJD2 - The Third Hand
Rotten enough to make you believe in the cruel god of the old testament. More like the The Third Wheel amirite?!
How does one even review unreleased music when not in the employ of a major label the mainstream music press? I cannot say, although I wish I would have posted this closer to late January when I first got my advance heard the album, because it would enhance my credibility. Anyway, let’s cut to the chase - this is album is a fucking disaster. Remember the awkward douche-chill lyrics of “Making Days Longer” from Since We Last Spoke? Now, stretch out that angst across an entire 47 minute album. The Horror! Oops! That was a good release by RJD2, why couldn’t he have done something like that? Because he hates breaks now? What happened to the RJD2 who would “tape a break from a KFC commercial?” Without fail, every track that started cool (e.g. “You Never Had It” and “Reality”) turns into a commiseration of, “You like Gnarls Barkley too?!” Even if you removed the lyrics, the music is still mostly mediocre-wannabe Dangermouse/Gorillaz fare. The only track that doesn’t make me feel like a MySpace predator is the instrumental “Legends” which hearkens to rhythm-free IDM, more Casino versus Japan than Dangermouse.
The worst part of the other tracks are the middle-school lovelorn lyrics reminding me of the embarrassing “Le Desir” or the stalker anthem “Sleep” (First she worked in a little shop, where I saw her everyday / She wouldn’t talk, she wouldn’t smile, but I liked her anyway), both from B. Fleischmann’s otherwise stellar release Welcome Tourist. RJD2 has nothing to offer this outing, comparatively - at least Fleischmann had the stomping crunch of “Guided by Beats” and contrasting noise/warmth of “A Letter from Home” to make the rest of the album worthwhile; The Third Hand only has that awkward “I’m watching you outside your bedroom window and masturbating” vibe that ruins any chance for enjoyment on the vast majority of the album. It’s like going out on a date with your best friend and his girlfriend, but end up bowling alone while they make out. For forty-seven minutes. At least this time, you don’t have to call your mom for a ride home.