Search - Bobby Conn :: Conn, Bobby

He's Bobby Conn, and that's all there is to it

owlberg | Seattle, WA USA | 09/28/2003

(4 out of 5 stars)

"Well. Let's start off by saying that there is no way to take a neutral position on Bobby Conn: either he's the most hysterically funny abuser of established forms from the past (specifically 70's funk and 'Shaft-soundtrack'-styled R&B, 60's Motown, and drug-fried lurching slow-ass blues), or he's an insulting offensive abomination that revels in an annoying faux retro-decadence and pseudo-bad-trippy fake 'wild-man weirdness' that just makes you wish Screamin' Jay Hawkins would walk up and smack Mr. Conn down but good. In between, there's a long cut-up collage that reveals an unhealthy obsession with Paul McCartney. Works for me.If you don't mind hearing about a number of rather unsavory subject matters (sacrilege, sodomy, substance abuse, Paul McCartney) and can cope with a vocalist that occasionally sounds like a 'slow child' in the grip of a Tourette's Syndrome fit, you'll find something of value here. Conn is essentially the punk rock Beck, or a white George Clinton on seriously bad mescaline. His musical cohorts sure know their stuff, allowing Conn to screw with your head while you try to 'dig the grooves' they 'lay down'. That flanged wah-wah pedal sure gets a lot of use. To test people's endurance to mind-numbingly wacky stuff, I usually play either this or the Disco Tex and the Sex-O-Lettes compilation. If they get past either one, they get a nice drink and a Pere Ubu song as a reward. You might want to start considering getting down upon it, hep-cat. I know that I did, and regretted it not."