Review: Plague Vendor - Free To Eat
[Epitaph Records, 2014]
Rating: 3/10
By Garrett Bower, Staff Writer
Key Tracks: "Black Sap Scriptures"
Free To Eat, California native Plague Vendor’s debut album, is the sad story of music that feels like rubbing cheese graters on one’s ears. Punk as this might be, eventually the listener has to come to terms with the fact that his or her lobes have been shredded off and go see a doctor.
But how did one get in such a messy situation in the first place? That answer is simple and rather short, as Free To Eat doesn’t possess a single song over three minutes, with half of them not even breaking the 60-second barrier.
This tried-and-true trope leaves Plague Vendor with songs that are short, no-bullshit sprints from start to finish. The drawback is that where other punk bands make these short songs count, Free To Eat uses them as dull morsels that all evoke the same-y taste of eating a whole sleeve of saltines.
Kicking off with a palatable crunch, “Black Sap Scriptures” shows promise with richly textured, gruff surf riffs and a galloping drum kick. The vocals come in after a brief raspy chant and feel like a greaser’s monologue right before putting the hurt on some trust-fund kids rolling around in classy jalopies.
They fit the music perfectly, possessing a subdued intensity that oozes into the instrumentals like fresh blood into the stress lines of that greaser’s weathered leather jacket.
All that subtlety is left in the dust for the next track, “Cursed Love, Hexed Lust.” The track rollicks along at an insane pace, and the vocals eventually build to rifle bursts of ferociously fast spit verses. Unfortunately the track is one that could have stood to be shorter, eventually becoming repetitive with its bland refrain of, “Makin’ love in the courtyard / We’re makin’ love in the courtyard.”
From here, it seems Plague Vendor decided to give up on the sort of pacing that could have set it apart. The cries of the vocals only get blander as the lyrics become more uninspired.
“My Tongue is So Treacherous” simply starts with a good 15 seconds of what sounds like a small girl seeing a mouse and screeching her head off. The instrumentals remain fairly tight and fun throughout, making the song feel like it has room to explore but all of this is overlooked for verses blandly dealing with black Cadillacs, long work days and someone apparently stealing a diamond.
As far as making an album that will sound like glass in a blender to members of a quiet suburban neighborhood, Plague Vendor gets high marks. Free To Eat leaves the listener languishing with dull, uninspired offers that do not evoke any stronger reaction than a long sigh and an absent rubbing of temples.
