Mink Lungs | Music | Pittsburgh | Pittsburgh City Paper

Mink Lungs 

I'll Take It: Arena Rock Recording Co.

The members of Brooklyn freak collective Mink Lungs aren't allowed back at that doctor's office; nope, not after stealing all those pre-signed prescription pads and then slipping Viagra samples down the front of their pants. Shit, anybody could've listened to "Start From Scratch" on the band's latest disc, I'll Take It, and known that people with that much punk-ass irreverence for their own pop sensibility were after more than a sponge bath from a male nurse.

In between popping those pills like horny old men (and woman!) and listening to Robyn Hitchcock's Globe of Frogs, Captain Beefheart's Safe as Milk and a bunch of Sabbath, Mink Lungs managed to somehow put together a disc that combines their love of music, drugs, and women wearing underwear that's "white, with little red hearts." It's all done with over-distorted wah-wah guitars and vocals that alternate between Miss Frosty's sex-kitten whisper ("Sensual Pleasure," "Awesome Pride") and Tim Feleppa's echo-chambered psych or acid-drenched Serge Gainsbourg deep-throat. The result would be hard to fall asleep to, but if one did, I can't imagine waking up.

It's hard to recommend I'll Take It as a purchase -- Mink Lungs will simply return to their renovated castle (complete with gargoyle frieze) and sink that money into bagpipe amplifiers and more Pixies bootlegs. But it's certainly worth stealing (or "downloading," as it's now called), even if only for the bizarre answering machine message that opens "Pugnose Apt.," the frightening sci-fi rock of "X-Ray Gun," or the frat-house-arson anthem "Dishes." If you've got to buy it, don't feel too guilty: I'll Take It isn't the best rock album to come out of Williamsburg just because most of Mink Lungs' neighbors are over-hyped and under-talented. It's the best one because Mink Lungs don't care if you like it, don't care if you listen, don't care if your mind survives.


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