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tenacious d
There are joke bands, and then there's Tenacious D. The dynamic duo of JB and KG, two orotund prophets of rock power via classical guitar breakdowns and bong sound effects, have always had their tongues planted firmly in cheek , but have long managed to avoid the "merely a joke band" mantle. Self-described as "the Smothers Brothers for the Dungeons and Dragons set," Tenacious D is basically two pudgy, 30-something white guys playing expletive-filled quasi-metal sex songs on acoustic guitars—but there is something so deliriously stupid about "the D" that makes them greater than the sum of their parts. Seeing the duo in the flesh (and, for select moments of a typical performance, in the buff) is transcendent in the way only toilet humor or heavy metal can be. On stage, Tenacious D has created a special brand of surreal satire that actually rocks. Unfortunately, none of this psychotic brilliance is captured on their long-awaited debut CD.All the familiar D elements are here (furiously strummed guitars, raunchy lyrics), but the essence is obscured by super-slick production and loads of gratuitous filler. The opening track, "Kielbasa," is an ode to sex (like half of D's repertoire) featuring the memorable chorus, "My Kielbasa sausage has just got to perform." It's a gem, but the album version is overlaid with so much slap bass and effects pedals that the mocking drifts dangerously close to just plain wanking. This problem plagues the album: when Tenacious D's flair for the cheesy rock cliché is presented in such lush high fidelity and perfect mixing, the songs stop being funny and just end up lame.
Still, the D can turn a great phrase, like in "Karate" when JB triumphantly asserts: "With karate I kick your ass/From here—to right over there/You broke the rules, now I pull out all your pubic hair." Or on "Fuck Her Gently," where both members harmonize falsettos to the lyric "I'm gonna hump you sweetly/I'm gonna ball you discreetly." And you haven't lived until you've heard JB say the word "underpants" on "Double Team," one of D's best tunes, so brilliant it almost makes up for the record's flaws.
But the flaws here are many, and you can chant "They're so much better live!" all you want—the fact is that the CD stinks "like stinky-poo from Malibu" (as JB would put it). In a time when we could all use a couple of good laughs, it's unfortunate that this album gives us our "Doubleteam Supreme" as only a joke band, and a one-note joke at that. (Epic) —Samantha Culp
All materials © 2001 The Yale Herald, Inc., and its staff.
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