Lust Control

Item: Worst of Lust Control
Author: Melba Jackson

Worst of Lust Control

(2001)

Reviewed by Melba Jackson

Discogs

Label Millennium 8 RecordsHM Magazine #88March/April 2001

comedy hardcore punk punk

Of all the albums I've listened to and considered for review, this one has the best title -- The Worst Of. This trash is terrible! While I'm just an old lady and have been around and heard a lot over the years, there is just some subjects better left unsaid. These so-called artists discuss such uncouth and dirty subjects as lust, pornography, masturbation, abortion, and drugs. My heart is fluttering right now, simply because I typed the previous sentence. These things shouldn't be shouted about from any pulpit -- whether it be a Witherspoon Oak Pulpit or a CD pulpit (so to speak). I have one word for Lust Control: shame, shame!

Now, I don't know much about audio quality, but I'm told that CDs are recorded with something called digital clarity. You're not supposed to hear the crackle of my record player or the hiss of my 8-track tapes. Then how come this Lust Control music sounds so bad? It sounds like these mischievous lads have taken their poorly recorded This Is A Condom Nation, Feminazi, and Dancing Naked albums and just recorded them onto CD. (I'm getting that nauseous feeling in my stomach again, just by looking at the titles this disgusting band used. I do like the Feminazi title, however, as I see the Rush Limbaugh connection. But that's the only positive thing I will say about this group.) The resulting sonics are about as high fidelity as some of the snake oil salesmen coined "televangelists" I've seen on the television. Let's just say, it ain't all there!

If I did have to say one positive thing about the music on here, it would have to be the line "I rebuke you in the Name of Jesus!" ("Rebuke"), which is exactly what I'd do to these boys if I had the chance.

While I absolutely hate this stuff they call "punk rock," I know good punk when I hear it, and this ain't it. If you insist on polluting your mind with this kind of noise, might I recommend Dogwood or War Rocket Ajax. That's all I have to say about that. I need to get back to the letter I'm writing to the owner of M8 Records' mother. She needs to know what kind of filth her son is putting out there. And, if I catch you giggling or even smirking while listening to songs like "The Big M," I'll write a letter to your mother, too!