Frenzal Rhomb 'Smoko at the Pet Food Factory'

Frenzal Rhomb
Smoko at the Pet Food Factory
(Shock)

The five years since their last album hasn’t changed Frenzal Rhomb much. The long-running Aussie punks still keep their songs under or around two minutes and still move with enough speed to resemble a blink-and-miss blur. And their wit stands intact on these unruly anthems, which could easily be the result of a massive binge of sugary kids cereal and morning cartoons. Top it off with production from legendary punk drummer Bill Stevenson (Descendents, All, Black Flag), and you’ve got a hyperkinetic, melody-addled, not quite half-hour blast of prime pop-punk.

While their mouths have gotten them in trouble several times over the years, Frenzal Rhomb have always done well for themselves on the punk circuit, joining Warped Tour here and in the States and releasing records on both Fat Wreck Chords and Epitaph. Singer-guitarist Jason Whalley and lead guitarist Lindsay McDougal have also worked prominently as the Triple J personalities Jay and The Doctor, which explains the serious delay for this record. Only McDougal is still with the broadcaster, while Whalley has since travelled the world and become a father.

Filled out by requisitely speedy bassist and drummer Tom Crease and Gordy Forman, the quartet cut this ninth album in Stevenson’s Colorado studio, apparently sharing space with a pet food factory (thus the title). It was a jarring environment for four vegetarians, and no doubt fed the disillusioned rage behind certain songs.

Yet aside from the damning slice of environmental fury ‘Snouts in the Trough’, these anthems take aim at stock targets. ‘Dead Celebrity’ mocks famous folks for adopting both Scientology and foreign children, while ‘Hungry Jack’s Carpark’ paints a scene of early-morning smackies and ‘Back to the Suburbs’ is an anti-city manifesto (“Too many arseholes have moved in here”). ‘Knuckleheads’ proves as vacuous as its subjects, and ‘Rude Tourist’ is just as weak. And the 56-second kiss-off ‘My Dearest Friend’ plays like a rehashing of the 1999 single ‘You are Not My Friend’.

Conversely, it’s hard to tell what some rocket-paced tunes are even about. Other qualms here include the extreme sameness of some songs (a common issue for any pop-punk band) and the airbrushed quality to Whalley’s sneering vocals at times. He can sound tune-corrected here and there, and his singing itself is soggy and whinging on the otherwise dark and goofy ‘Edward Sausage Fangs’.

In the end, levity works best for Frenzal Rhomb. The opening one-two of ‘Bird Attack’ and ‘Mummy Doesn’t Know You’re a Nazi’ are appropriately silly, as are the later ‘Cockroach Light Switch’ and ‘When My Baby Smiles at Me I Go to Rehab’. A few songs are even more wildly melodic, like the ode to Descendents/All bassist Karl Alvarez that is ‘Alvarez’ and the hook-crowded caffeine rush ‘Just Because It’s Soap Doesn’t Mean It’s Clean’. Best of all is ‘5000 Cigarettes’, which slows the tempo just a bit for more emotional resonance. That said, it’s got a perfectly urgent chorus.


Frenzal Rhomb - '5000 Cigarettes'

While Smoko at the Pet Food Factory is indeed uneven, its crazed pace and brevity means that any annoying bits are over before you can hit skip. And this may be a backhanded compliment, but the songs sound best when you’re not paying that much attention. They simply motor away in the background, ploughing through hooks and sing-alongs as if on a high-speed collision course.

Doug Wallen