Successful a whopping 17 times Moonlight on Rush! the quite impressive feat of bothering with their trivial glam rock generic at the same time absolutely obtrusively and at the same time not giving a shit.
The reheated cover of Beggin’ has certainly hardened in its annoying penetrance, but the inexplicably omnipresent ones take hold Moonlight two years following Theater of Wrath – Vol. I on their third work, despite all the antipathy, actually only twice really, really nasty in the liquid manure: the abysmal, exhausting annoyance Bla bla bla is the almost absurd low point of a record that doesn’t skimp on lyrical banality, meanwhile Kool Kids served the intended cynicism purely at his own expense and like a highly embarrassingly amateurish caricature in between Idles and Viagra Boys ashamed. Difficult to say which of these two numbers is the worse catastrophe. But one thing is certain: the musical year 2023 will hardly be any worse than here.
All around, the effect-seeking Italian discount rockers deliver with their design, which has been ironed out to a high gloss by a well-known team of producers, but all the possible platitudes and clichés should simply be overlaid by the lurid staging, if necessary, with the physical use of which the competent musicians also mutually support each other get married, just to generate some headlines and to distract from how infinitely stuffy it all is on a musical level.
It actually shows the entry into Rush!that Moonlight can actually write really catchy melodies. That catchy as only something in the auditory canals opening hit trio Own My Mind, Gossip (in which Tom Morello contributes what feels like the same guitar solo as he always does in a pairing for hell) and the nice one Timezone repeated his hooks ad nauseam, the songwriting did not focus exclusively on these (and later in the form of the brisk dance-punk, but without corresponding chorus Don’t Wanna Sleep or Read Your Diary continued) potential chart guarantors limited: also solid band standards (ie badly edgeless run-of-the-mill trifles) like Baby Saidthe pseudo-fiery one that wants to create a cramped epic mood Gasolineor the hedonism and sexual permissiveness symptomatic of the other MO as a crutch Feel repeat oversaturated and remain unpleasant in terms of content. Entertaining becomes damn reative.
In the course of a total of 53 minutes, which is too long, it does Rush! so good that Moonlight in the last third almost arbitrarily intersperse a relay of songs sung in Italian – primarily because it (especially in the endlessly running Franz Ferdinand-Copy The end and the half-baked, not getting to the point, but forgivingly unobtrusive The gift of life) is simply pleasant not to have to understand the stupid lyrics for once. But mainly Mark Chapman actually seems less stilted than its English-speaking neighbors, makes – without being even remotely original, because you really can never blame the band for that! – more fun than most here because, for once, the playfulness on display seems more authentic.
But even better are – as always with the band, whose rock only induces endorphin
That out with Mammamia (practically a warmed up Gossip) and the Formatradio interface Red Hot Chili Peppers and Portugal. The Man searching Supermodel two boring decals of always the same mesh decide the plate to be completely interchangeable, however, is only consistently rounding off the arc: in the sum of things is Rush! simply the coherent product (!) of one of the most terrible bands of these days.
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