Welcome to Take Two, the first posting in a series from InYourSpeakers, where our writers take a look back at their old album reviews, providing new perspectives, revised opinions, or updates on the band. Our first album up again on the chopping block is Cassette Kids’ mid-2010 release, Nothing on TV.
I think my fellow music reviewers will agree that parsing an album and weighing its merits is a difficult task. The easiest days of the job are when either a mind-blowing album comes our way (those Kid-A reviews, I’m sure, wrote themselves), or when a terrible, worthless album begs to be torn apart. Cassette Kids’ Nothing on TV was in that latter camp…. and those are REALLY the fun ones to review, anyway.
The thing about a bad album is — well, it’s a slap in our face, as both a potential listener and a reviewer. As a potential listener, the sloppy, derivative nature of Nothing on TV made me ache in pain for the poor soul foolish enough to spend their hard earned money on such dribble. As a critic, I resented spending more time writing the review than the band spent making their 12 generic tracks.
Everyday, waves of mediocre-yet-hard-working bands get churned through the hype machine, leaving nothing but squished pulps of momentary popularity. Now and then, I wake up in the middle of the night with a passing thought on what happened to that band I loved only 3 months ago… Then I go back to sleep, and all is forgotten. Not with Cassette Kids, though. Their brand of focus-grouped nausea stuck with me, and I’m here to make sure lead singer Katrina Noorbergen never gets her prerequisite 15 minutes of fame followed by a highly-publicized self-destruction (I can’t even imagine her self-destructing in an original way).
So I’m sad to follow up that nearly a year after their 2010 LP release, the band is still grasping at their 15 min like it’s the last beanie in the Hot Topic clearance section. The last couple of months has seen them terrorizing my old stomping grounds – lower Manhattan – with shows at Arlene’s Grocery, Webster Hall, the Knitting Factory, and Piano’s. Et tu, NYC? I guess if there’s any consolation, it’s that Cassette Kids had to open up for this Express-Men’s-Section-turned-Musician of a douchelinger: