"The Black Lips' debut is a grimy record,something like Creedence crossed with gauze-wrapped early-'90s garagists the Mummies.
The Southeast Performer remarked that "Can't Get Me Down" one of those grubby, loose, harmonica blues songs about some such "little woman" has the production value of two boom boxes." (It also ends with depraved,cute gibberish,something like "JAY CAIN TEE TEE CAW CAW.")
The key to the Lips, though, isn't just their thrown-together garage-band production values (actually,they hail from no suburban garage,but a post-high-school domicile and DIY venue near Georgia Tech named Die Slaughterhaus),or Alexander's commanding, sometimes mournful, sometimes exuberant garble. There's also the urgency, beyond posturing, one hears through the album's 13 tracks, suggesting the Lips only give a fuck about the basics: namely, being in a fuck-all band.
Live,they do unremarkable shit like pulling their pants down onstage, and trying to light themselves on fire but then they also do weirder, funner stuff: Alexander hits his guitar strings hard, reportedly with his cock, repeatedly. Ouch!
Bassist and budding psychologist Jared Swilley sees it this way: "We're good-bad, not evil. A lot of club owners say they don't like us, but deep down, I think they do."
A1 Throw It Away
A3 Ain't No Deal
A4 Stone Cold
A5 I've Got A Knife
A6 Down And Out
B2 Sweet Kin
B3 Crazy Girl
B4 Everybody Loves A Cocksucker
B5 Can't Bring Me Down
B6 You're Dumb
B7 Say Hello To The Postman