Review: Rosemary’s Billygoat

Rosemary’s Billygoat
(Porterhouse records)

Rosemary’s Billygoat has been getting a lot of favorable press as much for their onstage antics as their music that isn’t much more than an updating of Black Sabbath or a non-Christian rock version of Trouble.  I’m skeptical going into this album as I am of anything or anybody receiving what I deign to be an inordinate amount of praise.  Are all the media waggling tongues correct?  Or is this just more print driven hyperbole seeking to elevate the next to next best thing?  Let’s find out…

The album opens with a heavy chuggering juggernaut called “I Plead the Fifth” that has its closest analogue in terms of album openers to Megadeth’s “Wake Up Dead,” (same subject matter, same sparseness in lyrics) and admittedly it’s a catchy, if typical, little ditty.  The album moves along however and proves one catchy tune deserves another and thus we have what will no doubt be a great metal anthem some day, “six, six, five and a half.”  Then Rosemary’s Billygoat opts to flesh out the next song with a cover of Pat Benatar’s “Hell is for Children” that they play with demonic zeal, satanic zest and as much outright evil lust as can be imbued in a song written by a girl named Pat.  Then we head into some stagnant middle waters where the album holds its own but doesn’t necessarily take the listener on a great trip.  It is interesting to note that some of the vocals do seem to draw influence from Killdozer.  If this is intentional or accidental I can’t possibly say, but I will say that only fantastic things could possibly result from tearing a page from the book of the immortal Killdozer.

After only two mediocre metal forays, the band returns on song seven, “Sold,” with more teeth-kicking fury, much of it leveled at rich record label executives who apparently don’t care for and nurture Rosemary’s Billygoat as much as Satan does.
I’ve determined the band deserves their media praise.  Maybe not as much as they’ve gotten, but if the media doesn’t overly hype, lambaste or condemn then they really have nothing to say.  “Moderation” and “temperance” simply aren’t words in the modern music critic’s lexicon.  This is too bad and indicative of a mass failure in critical thought.  Well-reasoned, thoughtful critiques have been abandoned in favor of hyperbole of sound bites.  We should all hang our heads in shame for our mutual debasement of a once fine critical art form.

Rosemary’s Billygoat is the greatest band of all time in the history of the known universe.  I am a whore; you can fuck me for a dollar.