Taking their name to heart,
Fucked Up's umpteenth release (somewhere around number 60) is so unconventional that it is pretty much impossible to categorize. Not only does the band once again defy genres, but
Fucked Up make it hard to determine whether this is an LP, an EP, or a maxi-single. Certainly the band's second record based on the Chinese zodiac is long enough that
Year of the Pig could be considered an album, but since the eight-song CD is based around an epic 18-minute song that is wedged into the track listing four times in various incarnations, it's not exactly a disc to be played from start to finish. The titular song starts as a sweetly sung chamber pop piano ditty concerning the dilemmas of Canadian sex workers chirped by
Jennifer Castle. Around the two-minute mark, the mood switches suddenly when bald bruiser Pink Eyes barges onto the scene and lets loose some gravelly roars that could bring to mind Lee Ving getting stabbed with a butter knife or an outraged Captain Caveman. These jolting shifts from weightless pop to scathing violence happen enough times that a Krautrockian prog jam interlude and awkwardly transitioned fist-pumping outro seem kind of matter of fact by the song's completion. It's hard not to admire their ambition and their ability to puzzle-piece together parts that really have no business adjoining one another. Their originality in doing so makes the lumbering beast of a medley an exhausting triumph, and truly one of a kind.
Unfortunately, the rest of the disc falls by the wayside. In the U.S., U.K., and the Japan edits,
Year of the Pig's monster piece is chopped down to less than five minutes long, with the removal of the entire middle section drastically numbing the emotion of the track. Members of the iPod generation will probably want to pick their favorite version of the song (likely, the original) and discard the rest to the trash, in order to create a five-song EP with some continuity. The other four songs ("The Black Hats," "Mustaa Lunta," "Anorak City," and "For My Friends") are granular powerhouses, more straightforward in the traditional rock & roll sense, with the pig man's growl taking center stage over hulking punk that draws from
Stooges,
Poison Idea, and a number of Dischord straight-edge artists. First-timers should get their feet wet with 2006's
Hidden World, but those seeking more adventurous music will enjoy the offerings on this disc, including "Anorak City," a grungy rollick that mimics the sunshine sentiments of
the Ramones' "Rockaway Beach," and is probably the first punk song ever to include a violin. ~ Jason Lymangrover