For all the talk of a massive rift in Black Flag - between the cold, professorial, sexist pothead Ginn on one side, and the raging, antisocial, arty-farty poetry musclehead Rollins on the other - as the band's career sputtered to a halt, this their final full-length album sneaks in as the second-best release of their career.
In My Head
represents a sort of truce between the tired ridiculous phallus-songs of Loose Nut
and Slip It In
, and the avant-garde Weeding Out
material, ending up as what I can't really describe any better than 'architectural metal'.
The riffs are still highly repetitive and - you know, not particularly rocking - but they're given certain rhythmic nuances and staccato inflections that make them sound almost like a cross between a saxophone and a keyboard.
It's interesting, even respectable, that - like much of the Sonic Youth pretento-punk that followed in its wake - this album is generally unlovable. Rollins is curiously muted and sunk into the mix throughout, but that's just daisies and roses and sunshine for somebody who often finds the guy to be one step away from being a Depeche Mode-worshipping, lard-ass Goth chick at heart.
Lately, I've grown so tired of Rollins' clumsy tough-guy delivery of Ginn's clumsy tough-guy lyrics, the very last goddamn thing I feel like doing is attempting to figure out what these fools were trying to 'say' on this record - how much of it was ironic, how much of it was just mouth diarhrea, and how much of it was scribbled down on a cocktail napkin during a piss break in the recording studio. I just don't care anymore.
by Reviewer: Capt Bonanza
(blogging at Capn Marvel's Bonanza [Defunct]