Music Review: Aqueduct-Or Give Me Death

Even when played at a low volume, some albums still manage to suck out loud. Aqueduct's Or Give Me Death is a pathetic collection of unimaginative songs that are lackluster at best. The Seattle-based group's newest album is described as a so-called Futurist classic rock record. "Futurist" and "classic" have canceled each other out while this album does not meet the definition of "rock."

Although usually considered a positive quality, a prominent weakness of these songs is that one can easily understand all the lyrics. Nine of the 12 songs are lamentations about women and relationship problems. How original. Featuring rock cliches like "baby" and the ever-poignant "bitch," these songs will bring bile to your mouth and disdain to your heart. To be fair, the lyrics are dull, inane, candy-assed, and completely lacking in artistic merit.

Then, there are the clumsy, failed attempts at rhyming by the horrendous vocalist who inspires the listener to either take a nap or throw a piece of furniture. The man's voice is unwaveringly dull and listless. Think of an upbeat Lynn Staley minus the dark passion and any semblance of talent. Perhaps this band would be better served if their front-man were to shut the Hell up.

On the other hand, the instrumentation is lifeless and asinine at best. A synthesizer is used with reckless abandon, imparting not a true retro feel, but an equally loathsome neo-1970's flavor. I'm sure this is the centerpiece of that "Futurist" element they're apparently so proud of. The percussion work is pitifully bland and only faintly noticeable. Seriously, a child sedated by antipsychotics could have easily been holding the sticks.

Each song is virtually devoid of guitar playing — the cornerstone of rock. When fingertips were actually put to strings, the result is an almost nonexistent and supremely disinteresting sputtering of quiet notes that do not rise to the comparatively dazzling status of "ametuerish." Furthermore, bass is nowhere to be found.

Ultimately, one could not drink, dance, or brood to the lifeless absence of beat, rhythm, and anything resembling quality. There is everything to be said about feeling the music. David Terry and his colleagues apparently didn't, so we can't either.

To me, this album exemplifies music at its worst and should serve well as a cautionary tale for aspiring musicians and no-talent hacks alike. This was the product of good intentions gone horribly wrong and delusionals who should be waiting tables at Denny's. Thankfully, the 12 songs add up to a mere 42 minutes and four seconds. It's nice to know they did something almost right.

Creativity and purpose are what makes good music. This album was made without these and all other fundamentals by people who are clearly without talent or a clue. Or Give Me Death: splendid idea.