Monday, April 1, 2013

Trevor Moore's "Drunk Texts To Myself"



The more I listen to “Drunk Texts To Myself,” the new album from Trevor Moore, the more I like it. That’s saying something because the first time I listened I really liked it. A lot. There’s something here for everyone. In fact, there’s more than enough here for everyone. The ten songs on the album span a vast array of musical styles and Moore has mastered each of them. Hip hop and rap? Check. Dub step? Check. Metal, gospel, and country? Yep, yep, and yep.

“Drunk Texts” not only shows off Moore’s ability to make you laugh, it also showcases how good he is at composing a song (along with some help from The Elegant Too). You aren’t just laughing, you’re laughing and you’re not just listening to music...you’re genuinely getting into the songs. True enough, they’re songs about the founding fathers as straight-up gangsters (Imagine Jesse Pinkman as your American History teacher), foreskins, and the troubled heart of a bear, but still...this is good stuff.

On paper it might just sound like your average comedy touchstone being done for the millionth time, but when you consider the whole trouble with the Catholic church in rap form as written from the point of view as the Pope himself, you can’t help but feel like this is new ground:

“Mm, Look at the ass on him/he’s got a face that’s an 8 but an age of 10  
If a priest gets fresh and a complaint comes in/ Switch him to another city then game on again.”

The true inspired genius about Moore’s comedy is the way each song is approached. I’ll be the first to admit I’m not a fan of country music (and that’s putting it lightly). After listening to “What About Mouthwash,” a song performed in the bass-iest good ol’ boy bass Moore can muster, I couldn’t help but do a little analysis. The song laments the fact that it’s Sunday and the local liquor store is closed so it’s time to stock up on mouthwash, glue, cough syrup, and Sherwin-Williams. If a song about getting drunk at any cost doesn’t make for a good country song, then I don’t know what does. In fact, to me, that’s what every country song is about: Let’s get drunk. Pick-up truck. More about being drunk.

And that’s when it hit me. 

Perhaps I’m reading more into things than Moore intended (See? Turns out I did learn something from my 9th-grade English teacher after all), but it seems that every song was written from the point of view of someone who doesn’t like whatever genre is being tackled. To a country music hater, all country music is about getting drunk. To those who aren’t into metal (Hi, mom!), all metal songs are about moms being bitches and flipping them off when they’re not looking. And there are so many We Are The World-style protest songs, they all seem to run together and end up being about - or against - everything in the world.

It’s brilliant, really, and Moore should be commended for being more than a writer of silly songs but a writer of silly songs with layers. In the first couple of minutes of “Help Me,” the target seemed obvious. Skewering Bieber-esque teen pop is nothing new but when Moore makes his appearance as the overbearing record label exec horning in on the fun, I couldn’t help but think of Patrice Wilson, the producer behind such train wrecks as Rebecca Black’s “Friday” and the even-worse Thanksgiving song who is a more than deserving target. Things just got real.

Another highlight comes on the title track as Moore reads off various random drunk texts that make no sense only to have them sung back to him (and commented on) by the always-hilarious Reggie Watts. It’s proof that not only can't Watts not make me laugh out loud, but when presented with an already-fun premise he takes it to the next level and beyond.

This CD is extremely foot-tappingly enjoyable and I must admit it also taught me a few things: 

  1. Before now I never knew how much Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln hated the fourth guy on Mount Rushmore (Calvin Coolidge, right?).
  2. I had no idea something like a metzitzah b'peh existed (My Jewish friends have been holding out on me).
  3. Man, that Tom Hanks is an asshole.



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