Eating Jello With A Heated Fork

Review by Ken Shimamoto

EATING JELLO WITH A HEATED FORK – Deviants ixvi (Alive)

This was, of all things, a rock'n'roll record. Having re-entered the record game the previous year with the spoken-word'n'jazz weirdness of "The Deathray Tapes," Farren pulled out all the stops with this '96 release, which he atypically allows is "a gem." Have to agree with his assessment, too – this was definitely the jewel in the crown of Deviants releases up till then, and it set a new benchmark for the releases to follow.

A lot of it had to do with his co-conspirators – "Deathray Tapes" accomplice (and ex-Blodwyn Pig member) Jack Lancaster, who continued to provide a battery of unconventional sounds from his "cybersax;" Andy Colquhon, the Ur-Farren accompanist on guitar, a much more, uh, MOTILE player than his predecessors Sid Bishop, Paul Rudolph, and Larry Wallis, his warped blues sensibility the perfect foil for Farren's apocalyptic visions; Brother Wayne Kramer, at a creative peak and repaying the debt for Mick's lyrical contributions to his first two Epitaph albums; and most crucially, Kramer's rhythm section of Brock Avery and Paul Ill on drums and bass, respectively. Quite simply, the band kicks ass, and they provide the foundation for Farren to fully realize things he'd only hinted at in "Vampires Stole My Lunch Money."

The music blends seamlessly with the lyrics on the rockers (the title track, "Thunder On the Mountain," "You Won't Make It Here," "Hard Times") as much as on the darker, moodier pieces ("On Such A Lurid Night," "God's Worst Nightmare" – also essayed by Kramer on "Dangerous Madness" – "Three Headed Lobster Boy," "Arts of Darkness"). By now, Farren's a master of atmospherics, combining Bill Burroughs' reimagining of W.C. Fields as a world-weary junkie jade with a modern cyberpunk sensibility. He's one of the few spoken word performers whose writings are actually enhanced by his delivery.