Six Finger Satellite Albums (5)
What The Critics Say
Six Finger Satellite's final opus (and it is an opus) sees them taking their willfully abrasive terrorism to its logical end by extending their short jabs of no-holds-barred noise rock into space rock territory. Along the way, the band further hones some of the riff-based guitar skronk featured on Severe Exposure and Paranormalized, trying their hands at guitar-less sci-fi creepiness, picking up flashes of dub, and -- what's left? -- oh yeah, Krautrock. Equaling the length of The Pigeon Is the Most Popular Bird with half the number of songs, you get the feeling within the first few seconds of the opening "Race Against Space" that the record won't be a rehash of the band's earlier catalog. More atmospheric than anything they had done prior, the first 100 seconds consist of warped synth shadings and a dubwise rhythm until shifting into another convincing update of Big Black fused with Devo. "Fall to Pieces" and "The White Visitation" both build on the unsettling ambience of the beginning of the album with seven minutes of ominous hypnotism, as does the twice-as-long "Sea of Tranquility Pts. 1 & 2"; "Visitation" gives the sense of an impending alien abduction. There's also plenty to love for fans who preferred the relatively economical precision of Severe Exposure, as "Bad Aptitude," "New Kind of Rat," and "Surveillance House" keep things relatively short, tense, and sharp. Those who thought keyboards were used a little too much on Paranormalized might appreciate that they're kept around mainly for shading as opposed to driving force. ~ Andy Kellman, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Just when you thought Six Finger Satellite's noise mongering had crested on 1995's Severe Exposure, they returned the following year with more ugliness, more abrasion and more skull-shaking absurdity filtered through a dark sense of humor that couldn't be any more black. There's less reliance on guitars, placed in favor of more of the confrontational keyboards used to lesser extents on the band's prior releases. Plenty enough of these elements are crammed into the 33 minutes contained here. There are more variations of mania at play, not just in the manner of jagged rhythms, screamed vocals, and chunky rhythms. "Slave Traitor" begins in a startling fashion but retreats into a doomy plod of anemic synth tones; "Do the Suicide" is every parent's nightmare, a screeching, caterwauling menace of a hyper-industrial rhythm with the vocals consisting solely of, "Suicide! Do it now"; "Perico" is similarly rhythmic and adroit with another array of effects, including flapping fart-noises and Darth Vader-like manipulation of the vocals; "The Great Depression," an apt closer, is downright oppressive, a bottomless tarpit of murk and paranoia. The only true moment of respite is "Coke and Mirrors," a relatively relaxed robofunk workout with a peasoup-peasoup dance beat and all sorts of oddball, synth-generated geegaws. As most of the tracks last between two and three minutes, nothing really outstays its welcome. Heard with softer ears, two-to-three seconds might be more than enough. Regardless, it's oh so much more fun than Atari Teenage Riot. ~ Andy Kellman, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Herky-jerky pandemonium rife with buzzing guitars and spooky, deliberately melodramatic synth and Moog lines, Severe Exposure is filled with tight, paranoid riffs that fulfills the deepest wish of anyone who ever wanted to find out what the unholy progeny of Big Black and Devo would sound like. Although there isn't much sonic variety -- and some of their attempts at humor are downright silly -- the Satellites command attention with their unrelenting musical intensity and singer J. Ryan's frantic, hell's-bursting-loose delivery. He whines, growls, screams, and rants like a man possessed, only occasionally getting lost in the mix. When he raves "there's trouble in the monkey house" on the gloriously demented noise-fest "Simian Fever," you'd think that he and the deadly apes are involved in some sort of maniacal ritual that'll bring about the end of mankind. John McLean handles his guitar like it's a weapon, a machine gun that spits out combative licks, dirty power chords, and raging feedback. He's no slouch with a keyboard, either, as evidenced by the frenetic new wave number "Rabies (Baby's Got The)," in which he puts down the axe and faces off with the Moog-wielding Ryan. None of it would work, however, if it wasn't for the expert rhythm section, tying it all together with no-nonsense grooves that can bash your brain to butter as easily as they can slink around your throat like a seductive serpent. ~ Will Lerner, All Music Guide
'The Pigeon Is the Most Popular Bird'
Release Date 8/24/1993
Tracks 21
Label Sub Pop
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Sub Pop aficionados must have been caught more than a little off-guard to not hear something akin to Screaming Trees or Mudhoney after initially plopping The Pigeon Is the Most Popular Bird on their turntables. Divided into halves -- there's the Idiot half and there's the Savant half -- Six Finger Satellite's full-length debut features ten angular post-punk jolts in the spirit of Gang of Four (witness "Laughing Larry," replete with call-and-response vocals) and the Birthday Party (witness the swampabilly raunch of "Hi Lo Jerk"), broken up by a series of untitled, garage-y, wild card instrumentals that veer from sinister noodling to more rock-based squalls with splices of odd keyboards thrown in for good measure. Somewhat frustratingly, the untitled tangents often top the songs that do have titles. This is the band's rawest record, featuring the least amount of studio gadgetry and manipulation. J. Ryan's voice bears no effects or bizarrely buried/contorted trickery, sounding hoarse and anxious throughout. Nonetheless, it certainly sets the table for the band's love of noise and lunacy, combined with a healthy splash of bizarre humor. Hardly any other indie band at the time was doing this. They weren't just the black sheep of Sub Pop; they were demented flies in the ointment of mid-'90s U.S. indie rock, when a good number of bands from their neck of the woods did their best to sound like Unrest or Superchunk. As a footnote, Shellac named one of their singles, The Bird Is the Most Popular Finger, in honor of the band. No mere coincidence, Shellac's Bob Weston recorded and engineered this record. ~ Andy Kellman, All Music Guide
