Those who are familiar with Revolting Cocks are undoubtedly well-versed in the band's mashup of industrial thump, dance-floor rhythms, and juvenile sexuality. This time around, Al Jourgensen is joined by both guitarist/Ministry collaborator Sin Quirin and singer Josh Bradford of such underground metal outfits as Stayte and Simple Shelter. Together, they make an unholy racket, but it's nowhere near enough to set this incarnation of the Cocks apart from the legions upon legions of bands doing the exact same thing.
Industrial has always been difficult to pull off. At a certain point, the hammering bass drums and repetitive 4/4 rhythms cease to be exhilarating and become an exercise in endurance. In a way, it inherits the worst of its two parent genres -- the bluntness and monochromality of metal combined with the tediousness and inhumanity of techno. In the past, artists like Fear Factory and, to be certain, Ministry have been able to use these shortcomings in a way that underscored the tension between the human and inhuman in their music, calling attention to the precarious position of modern man living in a post-morality technologic wasteland. But even that can only be done so many times before it gets old, and quite frankly, Revco doesn't even aim so high as to be another Fear Factory. It's nothing but verse-chorus-verse dressed in the same heavy beats, distorted guitar, and pulsing synth.
Compounding the monotony of the music is the utter lack of compelling lyrics. Although the sleaze, misogyny, and homophobia are delivered with tongue planted firmly in cheek, songs about strip clubs, cyborg prostitutes, and masturbation become tiresome. It's a shtick that Mindless Self Indulgence tackled with considerably more grace, largely because MSI was smart enough, at least in their early work, to end a song well before the four-minute mark. Another black mark against the album is the paucity of Jourgensen's vocals. While Bradford has a perfectly adequate range for this brand of sleaze-rock, one can't help but think the album would be improved by Jourgensen's Lemmy Kilmister-gargling-concrete-and-broken-glass howl.
Sexo Olympico features a new rendition of Ministry's “Keys to the City,” a song originally written as an anthem for The Chicago Blackhawks, now re-envisioned by Bradford as a debauched romp through the streets of Las Vegas. More successful is “Cousins,” the only song where the band successfully creates the brand of squalid humor they aim at all album long. A rather predictable panegyric to forbidden intra-familial hanky-panky is interrupted by a mid-song breakdown in which Bradford offers the advice: “Keeping it in the family can be a great idea/ Though at times things get a little tricky/ Making babies is a bad idea.” It also helps that the song is built on an uncommonly good hook. Meanwhile, “I'm Not Gay” dances between a club-ready trance pulse and its shredding chorus, but at six-and-a-half minutes long, it more than wears out its welcome by the time you finish it. And “Red Parrot,” one of the most straightforward metal songs on the whole album, has the distinction of sporting some of the dumbest lyrics I've heard all year.
Most artists who have been in the music business as long as Jourgensen turn themselves into a brand. You don't go into McDonald's looking for a great meal; you go because it's fast and cheap and you know what to expect from them. I think that's as succinct a description of Sexo Olympico as I can muster.
1. Hookerbot3000
2. Keys to the City (Vegas Mix)
3. Red Parrot
4. Robo Banditos
5. Cousins
6. Touch Screen
7. I'm Not Gay
8. Abundant Redundancy
9. Lewd Ferrigno
10. Wizard of Sextown
11. Hookerbot3000 (Disco A Go Go Mix)
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