Backseat Delightlah! More Than a Name

by Stu Press

It's official: Abysmal Crucifix is the best band ever to walk the Earth. As if their masterful twin-cannon releases in 1995 and 1996 didn't prove it, the boys are back — with extreme prejudice.

The theme of Star Sex is obvious (sex), while Two Berries on a Twig continued that theme while ladling on wild genre experimentation and a slight negativity to the sexual situations. Backseat Delightlah! completes what McDürchstein is now calling the "sexy" trilogy by equally demonizing and idealizing sexual relations with women, as symoblized by gorgeous cover model Marge [sic] Atwater.

Ms. Atwater is quite a lovely woman (her recent spread in Slut-Wrench is destined to eclipse Marilyn Monroe's Playboy pictorial in popularity), but look at the slight imperfections: the crooked smile, rabbit-like overbite, unusually discolored areolae. Like a magnificent work of art handed to us directly from God, Ms. Atwater's flaws give her more perfection, making her equally as sexually attractive as the lack of arms on the Venus de Milo or the crack on the Liberty Bell.

In much the same way, the problems with Backseat Delightlah! make the album as a whole a more alluring package. The first half of an album is a total hit factory, combining sexually charged pop sensibilities (think of frontman Girth McDürchstein as "If"-era Janet Jackson) with the raw power of NüMetal. The first six songs on Backseat Delightlah! — including the offbeat experiment, "Radioactive Penis," that opens the album — are masterpieces of rock composition. Bob Dylan, eat your heart out!

Unfortunately, like many Dylan albums, the middle of this album is repetitive and dull. Replacing the pneumatic wrench-like singing is an emphasis on slow, ponderous rock songs like "I'm Cumming, Mom!" and "Pheremonal Discharge in Your Pants."

The second half of the album bounces back, with a group of ballads that would put the first six songs to shame if not for the fact that they are, pure and simple, not metal. They veer between soft rock and your average Smashing Pumpkins-esque "medium rock," but each song has the fine craftsmanship of an artisan. Poignant lyrics, memorable riffs, lengthy guitar solos — everything a music fan could want.

Reprinted from the Hawthorne (California) Standard, June 23, 1998