Micah P. Hinson
All Dressed Up And Smelling of Strangers
Full Time Hobby; 2009

money-money-money-MO-NEY! I hate writing record reviews. But I like taking ambien and writing record reviews. And I REALLY like taking ambien and writing a GOOD record review. Yep, I’m happier than a pig in shit! On New Year ’s Eve! Can I get an Amen?!? I wonder what pigs drink on New Year’s Eve?…whatever…shit? I shudder to think…Irrelevant.

The point is that this CD is totally boss. Not quite as boss as actually saying boss…or stabbing someone who habitually says boss, but it’s still pretty fucking boss. Micah P. Hinson got into a nasty skateboarding accident in his early twenties and in turn developed a sizeable addiction to pharmaceuticals (share the wealth ya’ greedy bitch!). After that, he hooked up with some chickenhead model girlfriend, wore her out in some motel he was living in, and wrote some songs that made our eardrums want to follow suit…and some dope wouldn’t be too shabby either! Hey Micah! Make with the heroin and ashy black thunder thighs stat! Otherwise this review will go unfavorable…and quick. Na…I’m bluffinnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggg.

Anyway, every song on this album is a solid effort. Micah uses the clever strategy of executing every note with pinpoint technique while insisting on an almost drunken execution of timing aside from major syncopations. He keeps a consistent tempo, so it doesn’t take quantum leap theory to realize that this could have been baby ass clean if he had wanted it that way. And I guess I wouldn’t put it past him to nitpick over where he dumped the, let’s call them “bad time” notes. It’s just good. Mellow. Makes you wanna put your face in the grass. You can feel it. That’s another reason I fucking hate reviewing records. You can’t just explain shit like this. You don’t explain music. It’s just a feeling. You either get it or you don’t. And if you don’t, then e-mail Nathan. Cause’ we have a gun. You can talk to our gun. Tell our gun why you don’t “feel it”. Unfortunately, you won’t get a word in edgewise. Cause’ she’s a talker. And she spits when she talks. In case you we’re wondering how crazy I am, the answer is very. Head on over to Micah’s Myspace (www.myspace.com/micahphinson) and tell him that Noiselens needs ashy black chicks and drugstore dope.

Goodnight
And
Goodluck

Chickenhedz