In My Head by Black Flag

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In My Head by Black Flag
In My Head by Black Flag

Album Released: 1985

In My Head ::: Artwork

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1.Paralyzed2:39
2.The Crazy Girl2:46
3.Black Love2:42
4.White Hot4:59
5.In My Head4:30
6.Drinking And Driving3:16
7.Retired At 214:56
8.Society's Tease6:09
9.It's All Up To You5:14

Reviews

Let me start off by stating that dark jazzy avant-metal is not the way I like to brew my coffee. Sure it's 'interesting' but damn boring to listen to.

And Ginn demonstrates the limits of his imagination with the awful solos and stale riffs he throws around here: is it just me, or do I hear the same notes repeated over and over again in half these 'tunes'?

One good song that kicks off Side Two, "Drinking and Driving", is an attack on Motley Crue's Vince Neil, who killed the drummer of Hanoi Rocks while mixing the two, is worth hearing. The criminal justice system in America is a joke - if I killed someone whilst driving drunk, I'd be taking it up the rear in correctional facilities right now instead of typing this review. But no, since he's rich and famous, Neil gets 'community service' instead. Fuck that moron.

To think that the things Bob Dylan was complaining about in "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll" are still going on today - if you've got the money, you can do whatever the hell you want.

Anyway, this album goes on forever even though it's not that long. Ginn remains fixated on sex and pain to a ridiculous extent - can't he come up with something else to talk about? Crazy girl, it's in my head, you're society's tease and I'm paralyzed and white hot (gee, I wonder what substance that's referring to?).

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by Reviewer: Creative Noise (blogging at Creative Noise)


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.

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by Reviewer: Capt Bonanza (blogging at Capn Marvel's Bonanza [Defunct])