Remember that band Faith No More with the one hit on the radio that sounded like it was sung by a squirrel? Well the singer from that band, Mike Patton, is also a musical genius of the insane variety. He was also the singer for and driving force behind Mr. Bungle, a band that released just three albums. When I first heard the middle album, ‘Disco Volante’, I flipped out and ran down the street through the snow with no shoes on. I couldn't believe what this guy was getting away with. You've got pop music hooks, lounge-style crooning, circus music, thrash metal, and electronica all smashing into each other. The album made almost no sense on the first listen, but once I got to the point where I could remember what was coming next, it was impossible to use the album as background music. It's profound nonsense that demands attention.

Mike Patton exudes spite. When you listen to pop music, what you're really hearing is an extremely talented producer who knows exactly how to make a song catchy/edgy/whatever. Well, Mike Patton is that producer. He's a master of interesting sounds and combining them into music. On top of that, he's a relentlessly protean vocalist. His voice can assume any persona from a squirrel to a chain-smoking Italian to a Frank Sinatra croon to a death metal growl. And what does he use all of this talent for? Dirty jokes, musical perversions, and lots of those moments where you think "oh, this is nice" until you realize what he's singing about. There's lots of smashed bottles, whip cracks, and ominous breathing. During one song, "The Bends," it seems as if the album is ending until you realize that the song is actually just trying to emulate getting the bends. It ends with this sucking sound like your head is being crushed by water pressure. If you push the headphones into your ears, it feels like it's really happening. It's hauntingly erotic.

This album is a mantra for me. It's about high energy theft and marching like a maniac to your own drum. Listen to ‘Ma Meeshka Mow Skwoz.’ The lyrics are made up entirely of nonsense and it sounds like a Looney Tunes episode is running underneath the electronic noise, grunting guitar, and manic drumming. ‘Disco Volante’ is a lesson in trusting your audience. There's no need for Mike Patton to tell me how lonely he is since his girl left him. After listening to ‘Violenza Domestica’ I've got a clear enough picture of him smashing things in the kitchenette to overpower any need or desire for reality. And the destruction of reality is what we're all after in the end, right?

D. Richard Scannell comes from central New Jersey. Reading the climax of ‘Moby-Dick’ when Ishmael and Ahab fight off the pod of whales with their bare hands was a pivotal moment in his life. He thought he was going to be an electrical engineer for a while, but then he got an opportunity to see what it was really like, and he decided that capacitors and dark basements weren't for him. Instead he studied English and German at Penn State. German possesses a mystical quality, something like unfiltered cigarettes stuffed with aloe leaves—raw, violent, cleansing. He retained a love of computers and programming from his engineering days, skills that come in handy. His current project is ForTheHermits.com, a website that combines flash fiction and illustration. It updates once a week and gives him a consistent relief from the insanity of introspection. Someday, he may do something really exciting, but for now, he's content to scribble down ideas in notebooks.

© 2007 Laura Hird All rights reserved.