Shitdisco - Kingdom Of Fear (2007)

After its brief respite, the floodgates of dancepunk have opened aga-- okay, wait wait wait, I can't ignore this any longer: Why in the world would you call your band Shitdisco? As a music reviewer, you get some pretty absurd and/or wretched names showing up in you mailbox from day to day, but Shitdisco is perhaps the most dreadful one I've come across in some time. What do you tell your Grandma when she asks you what your little band is called? If you hit it big on the radio, are you prepared to be referred to as [Bleep]Disco or Poopdisco? Do you really want to open yourself up to so many easy and pun-gross putdowns? I honestly can't believe nobody talked you out of it.

Begrudgingly, I'll admit that Shitdisco is an appropriate name for Shitdisco's sound; had it been a genre name, I probably would prefer it to the atrocity of nu rave. Shitdisco is a band that plays disco-punk, a conclusion I made after hearing the band say the word "disco" many, many, many times on their record. Hearkening back to the heady days of 2003, the Scottish foursome meticulously recreate the playbook of bands like the Rapture and Hot Hot Heat, without really bothering to add anything new, other than a misguided sense of brand identity.

Most of the record sounds like the band is checking off ingredients one by one from the nutritional information label for "House of Jealous Lovers". Opening track "I Know Kung Fu", after a brief, burundi-drum Adam & the Ants false-start, falls back on not only the staccato guitar lines and persistent hi-hat of dictionary-definition dancepunk, it also cribs the numerical shouting, background ululations, and cowbell rhythmic supplements of their (for the most part) still-living ancestors. Other tracks opt for the William Gibson gritty sci-fi lyrical approach, strange time signatures and UFO sound effects that have marked this latest flareup of the sound, joining the geek-dance-rock cause of peers like Klaxons.
As familiar as Shitdisco's sound is, it's also reasonably well executed, occasionally striking that perfect balance of reckless abandon and rhythmic semi-competence that marks the best attempts at merging the dance with the punk. "Reactor Party" separates itself from the parade of déjà vu by channeling the tweaked and pinched tension of Devo, a rich point of reference mysteriously lacking from the genre's first wave. Meanwhile, songs such as "Lover of Others" wobbles right on the precipice of losing control, in the danger zone where the groove sounds like it's playing the band rather than vice versa, while "OK" and "72 Virgins" exhibit Shitdisco's ability to establish a sinister bass undercurrent that doesn't sap the band's energy.

Nevertheless, it's discouraging that a 35-minute record starts doubling back so often by the end, with the melody for "3D Sex Show" recycled a mere four tracks later on "Fear of the Future" and the falsetto backing vocals only knowing two or three tricks. This internal repetition, combined with the derivativeness of Shitdisco's sound to begin with, is sobering reminder of why dancepunk came and went so quickly just a few years back. As long as these bands' ideal of dance music remains flash-frozen in 1980, it's likely the sound will struggle to expand upon its limited potential, no matter how many times it's revived or new names it is awarded-- a squelchy synthesizer and a cowbell doesn't cut it anymore. For a band like Shitdisco that has handicapped itself right from the get-go with their horrible name (Shitdisco! I still can't get over it), settling for the status quo is a recipe for obscurity, no matter how competently reenacted.