Like the tail of a turd caught at the rim of your asshole, the sushi sounds of the uncooked, but hardly vegan Raw McCartney hits your New Year’s punch bowl. You’ve culled your lists, you’ve checked them twice, but it’s likely you’ll the coal-into-diamonds scat that is Introducing… will make you rethink your selective numbering system. It was late to the party and already drunk. So what? Lists were made to be flimsy and the devolution of Indiana’s “garage” rock is now worth the crash. It was only frozen sherbet and orange juice; it needed this spike. The minds behind Raw McCartney, unlike those of other verbal name plays, have taken psychedelic rock back, further than the first prehistoric rumble of dinosaur-chasing-Biblical man. This is meat from the bone, working its way through your innards at a disruptive pace. No amount of antacids can quell this grumbling belly. It echos and sways with your every bloated waddle until you find yourself crashing the bash, anus firmly planted above the fruity drink platter. And it plops and fizzes with each sweet release. Your thought your Top 25 list was done but now you’re going to have to suffer through a revised edition. Raw McCartney may be the stumble bum you’d rather not deal with in the midst of your New Year’s resolution but we all have problems bubbling up. At least this one came as soon as it did, so you can be better prepared for the scatological disaster of 2015.
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