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Mike Patton, of Faith No More fame, is back at it, and the music is better than ever. It's been a while since the demise of Patton's more radio friendly band; but even during the near decade stint of Faith No More, Patton insisted that he had bigger and better things in mind for his other project, Mr. Bungle. While the first Bungle album is known by many as the album "with all that crazy carnival music" the second album, Disco Volante reached a broader audience with its more driven guitars. And although California may never be played on the air waves, Mr. Bungle has left off the vulgar lyrics that they are famous for, to couple some thought provoking titles with the genre hopping polka pizzazz that they've always maintained. The music may be more listener friendly, but there is something about the change-up insanity of Mr. Bungle and their avant-guard style that will never place them in the steady diet of most music listeners. Although that may be a shame for most of the world, it gives Bungle lovers the pride of being the chosen few who appreciate the eclectic sounds of a would-be rock band who is manipulated by their love for mayhem and hatred of the pop-culture to which their record label aspires. The opening track, "Sweet Charity," leads the album into the California vibe with Hawaiian guitar licks and a western style bass beat over the "Bop-ba-da"s of bass player Trevor Dunn's backing vocals. The album then shifts into the steady grind of "None of Them Knew They Were Robots," a smattering of Patton's amazing vocal styles over speedy, swing bass and guitar complete with horns that lead into a montage of distortions. This seeming critique of pop-culture hits American materialism on the head with such lyrics as "Content-shifting shopping malls, Gasoline trees and walk-through walls, None of them knew..." Trey Spruance leads off the third track, "Retrovertigo," with a low acoustic guitar riff coupled with a keyboard nostalgia that builds to a crescendo in the operatic vocals of Patton bellowing out "Now I'm finding truth is ruined, Nauseous end that nobody is pursuing, Staring into glassy eyes, Mesmerized, There's a vintage thirst returning, But I'm sheltered by my channel-surfing, Every famine virtual, Retrovertigo." From there the album shifts into the driven guitars and multi-delusional changes of "The Air-Conditioned Nightmare," an Eastern sounding song with a seemingly critical analysis of postmodern thought that boasts "These words are sledgehammers,Of truth, That pound the iron heart, Of sin." The track that follows is perhaps the best on the album, "Ars Moriendi," an Italian-polka-pop-mariachi organ sound complete with Patton singing in Italian with surfy guitars. The album slow dives into "Pink Cigarette" at this point, a mellow piano based track with an anti-romantic climax that assures us "there's just one more hour and then you will find me dead, There's just..." followed by the beeping drone not unlike that of a flatlined heart monitor. From here the album builds into the frantic insanity of the computer manipulated, child wind-up toy, circus sound of "Golem II: The Bionic Vapour Boy," a track that boasts some hip-hop influence and is filled with so much distortion that the listener is left wondering where the vocals are at in the mix. Then there is the long-winded vocal sounds of "The Holy Filament," a melodramatic, moody piano tune that is perhaps the only song on the album that really loses interest after a few listens. For their finale, Bungle uses two of their trump tunes from California, "Vanity Fair," a 50's bee-bop tune complete with finger snaps that critiques the pseudo-religious with lyrics like "You're not human, You're a miracle, A preacher with an animal's face;" and the last track, "Goodbye Sober Day," a bouncy tune with spacey keyboard sounds that builds into a grinding guitar epitaph that sounds like Patton's other band Fantomas, and predicts the eminent apocalyptic heat death of our sun and demise of mankind as a result of entropy in such lyrics as "May your sun be blown out like a candle, May your sea burn like tar, May your sky be rolled up like a scroll, May your blue moon drip with blood." California slips in just under the mark of the 1990's and proves to be one of the better albums of the decade. Mr. Bungle has finally traded in their vulgarity for a maturation in lyric and style. These guys are at their most creative with California and will find themselves hard pressed to out-do this album with their next release. Todd Ballard 3/26/2000
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