2 out of 5

Label: Skin Graft

Produced by: Chris Hutchison, Weasel Walter

I loved The Flying Luttenbachers from my purchase of this album, even before I’d listened to it. The power of attitude, m’lady: the all black case; the OBI strip design; the freakin’ album title… screamed out at the start of opener De Futura – which is a Magma cover, done up in frantic Luttenbach-ing spazz mode – I mean, I was in, even if I’d never listened to Magma at that point.

Flash forward many years and many Lutten-b albums later, and I do love them so, but I rarely listen to this one, which suffers from a pretty poor recording throughout, and a completely eff-off sequencing that allows the momentum on this thing to just die. Once you’re used to its pacing, it’s still kind of a stretch, and the (presumably) live sessions from which this stuff was mixed and matched are so tinny that even the highs don’t hit as hard as they could, even with the volume yanked up.

As perpetual art-rock jokesters / uber-serious music massacre-ists, making something of an anti-album isn’t out of line for the Lutes, of course, and I don’t dislike a lot of moments on this, or the overall concept of subverting my noise-jazz expectations; the Allmusic review makes a point to mention how we’re getting a cross-section of arrangements of the band, and that definitely fits into the puzzle here, as we step between aggression and experimentation, with tracks like Medley appropriately doing both in one. But I think Weasel Walter maybe pushes that dissection too far: the title track’s 11 minutes have an interesting horror movie vibe, but it dissembles and wanders for way too long to keep that effective, before Walter’s black metal love brings us a cover of Hahovej’s Black Perversion, which is surely a fascinating choice, but rather doubles down on the open-ended vibe of the previous track, for five further minutes, and then the relative non-starter of P.A.L.S. Nipple – Clamped, before the aforementioned Medley takes its time ramping up via some legit post-rock stomp. …And that track’s build is well worth it, but the album has put us through some decidedly non-Luttenbacher stuff up to this point, which thus requires an on-the-nose closer: If I’m Going To Become A ‘Seminal Artist’, I’d Better Suck Up To The Critics A Little Better / The Big Finale. That brings the goods, surely, but maybe I feel a little guilty wanting that, given the title.

I think a remastered version of this could go a long way toward making its positives a bit more accessible, which would probably allow better assessment of its comparatively experimental parts. Regardless, knowing that, no matter how many times I give this thing a go, I start getting itchy to put on almost any other record in the FB catalogue, or to fast forward to my preferred moments…