 M.O.D. Where do I even begin to talk about this record? Another one of those long-ago high school obsessions, M.O.D. was a cultish speed metal band that formed in the late 80s, and just one of the seemingly endless supply that Southern California had to offer at the time. Fronted by brick shithouse Bill Milano, they were a semi-talented four-piece, with a pronounced scatological bent, and cynicism in such amount as to make the Loud Bassoon flock seem like Stuart Smalley. Milano also was the front man for Stormtroopers of Death (S.O.D.), who were very similar, only faster and a bit less prone to the outright comedy than M.O.D. You don't even have listen to this disc to know that you're not in for your run-of-the-mill speed metal album. While most speed freak material will concentrate on death, dismemberment, evil, etc., M.O.D. went for a bizarre fusion of punk and speed metal, with tongues firmly in cheek. Song titles like "Aren't You Hungry," "Captain Crunch," "Hate Tank," "Don't Feed The Bears," "Get A Real Job," and "Spandex Enormity" give just a hint of what is in store for the listener. The CD contains twenty-three tracks, but clocks in around forty minutes, since several of the tracks go under a minute, including a couple under ten seconds. "Aren't You Hungry" leads off, a rant about famine in Africa and the charities it spawned. The chorus: "USA For Africa/What a fuckin' scam/Charity begins at home/What about our land?". Had I mentioned that this album was recorded eons before anyone had any concept of political correctness? After several burning tracks of varying quality, the hight point comes in "Spandex Enormity," certainly one of the best song titles EVER. It tells the story of Bill's torment by an overweight groupie with a passion for (I'm assuming) biker shorts. The pinnacle of the song is Bill's breakdown: "Don't talk to me/Talk to Nick, talk to Nick/ hy does it always have to be me/YOU FUCKING FAT BITCH!!!!/I've had enough of you/So take your flubber buns and leave.. All right, so it's not "Yesterday," but dammit, it's huckin filarious. Another *ahem* highlight is probably the single most politically incorrect song of all time, "A.I.D.S.," with the chorus of "A-I-D-S/Anally inflicted death sentence/A-I-D-S." I still find myself shaking my head and smiling in spite of myself at this one, figuring that it is very possible that the ultimate irony has since been visited on at least one of the band members. It's blatantly obvious who the target audience of this disc was, and at the time that I was "into" it, I was exactly positioned in those crosshairs. Back then, I derived semi-guilty pleasure from it, pretending that I was walking some line between being a good kid and a bad kid, but really that was never in doubt. I was smart enough to know that it was all pure, unadulterated bullshit. Looking back, I wonder how many kids were seriously influenced in some way by the album and its ideas, but I doubt that many ever heard it. Anyone who would be influenced by any song, though – especially songs like these – was probably screwed from the very beginning. Just keep telling yourself, they're only songs, and the band members are probably all homeless, in jail, or burning in hell. At the very least, though, I'll have a handy excuse to give my court-appointed psychologist after I finally snap and hose down that Red Dwarf convention with an AK-47.
Review by Mario Speedwagon |