Search - Made Out of Babies :: The Ruiner

Never Yelled At So Good Before In My Life

L. Myers | Decatur, GA United States | 06/28/2008

(5 out of 5 stars)

"When I was 4 I got separated from my mom in one of those outdoor shopping centers that you have to leave the one store to get to the other and it was dry summer and everything looked tall and dirty and my mom found me in less than 8 minutes but when she yelled at me for walking from her side I grabbed thigh and clung to it like every reprimand was mother's milk shouting I love you. Not until hearing this album has a shrill woman's chastisement well me up in silence.



Every MOoB album is refinement of the prior. Trophy shrieked from the dankness of a bathroom stall in any bar you blur your way through at 3:45 am. Coward begged you with smacks across the face to let me explain to you why this is happening. The Ruiner finally lets you in on the secret: it keeps happening to you, most when you tell yourself it isn't. The Ruiner continues the way "Out" connected album 1 to the second by going harder making the lightness glower and taking it away just when sense starts to set in. How can he be home for Sunday dinner with the widow from beneath? Where do the objects on the sign point if they point the wrong way? The Ruiner makes the idea of anything not sounding like it seem illogical like, do THIS, no, THIS, DO THIS, to no avail and still be able to look yourself in the reflection.



But what does it sound like? A drummer who is precise in his aggressive punctuation almost like the kit is made from American Bison hide. A guitarist who heard the music of MARS from the no wave scene and said f**k I can do that and hasn't looked in any other direction since. His fingering brings the texture out of the dissonance created by the bass player who takes electric blues upstairs in the bathroom with the music blaring and the sound of drunk teenagers in the rest of the house baking the ambience. And the anxieties of you know who projected above through in and under, rhythmic in its strength to guide the ear inside the encapsulated obelisk of lounge not having had enough rest but determined to put on a good show and the chairs lighten opposite its skrees of glee but put on a happy face brush off that charm and clear up.



I like the album. I want it to give me an Uzbekistani body message pretzel-bent sore sour and looser inside out eventually. The perk of buying this CD is that the booklet includes the lyrics to each song. There is no formula for decrypting Julie Christmas's words. Like Oxbow's Eugene Robinson, her words become sentences according to the rhythm of her delivery but no guarantee is made of meaning. The benefit being that every listen yields new messages. Even better you're gonna start hearing Christmas's oohs in the background of Coolio's "Gangsta's Paradise" over the speakers in the grocery store. I even jumproped nonstop through "The Major" which is 5:36 but I couldn't stop. I can't praise it more than that it exerted force upon my physical form. I like the album."

A different approach to stoner-doom.

CRAZOTOLOGY | Joplin, MO. (USA) | 04/02/2009

(5 out of 5 stars)

"Great female vocals, On this album Made OUT Of Babies are a hard rock band that combines stoner doom rock with indie and sludge. The lyrics are written in an unusual way...the idea seems to be to create images in your mind as your listening to the music. Kind of a hrad record to explain. Speaking for myself my favorite songs on this album are "Grimace" and "How To Get Bigger". For fans of JUCIFER, SCARLING, and BLACK SABBATH."