Megapuss

Surfing (Vapor)

By Kirsten Kilponen
Published: January 14th, 2009 | 9:00am

Folk royalty Devendra Banhart and his collaboration with Priestbird’s Greg Rogove (with some help from the Strokes’ drummer Fabrizio Moretti) sounds more like bros with guitars than music by established musicians. Their debut album, Surfing, opens with smooth horns that sound like they were pulled from a smoky ‘20s jazz lounge and a melody that manages to get you past the initial cringe from the band’s name: Megapuss. The entire album is a downslide from there, with generic guitar riffs and annoying song titles like “Crop Circle Jerk ‘94,” “Mister Meat,” and “Chicken Titz.” It’s not that clever to make a song title by sticking together “crop circle” and “circle jerk,” or making a band name by putting “Mega” in front of “Puss.”

Surfing’s simplistic arrangements lack magnetism and often sound bare (and not in a good Johnny Cash kind of way, either). The title track feels more like a shoddy sound effects experiment. Instead of bringing about an exciting or new kind of musical synthesis — like Banhart’s previous Spanish-influenced songs, “Carmensita” or “Samba Vexillographica” — Megapuss consists of lazily written tracks that prove to be more irritating than funny with phrases like “tropical taint,” “choad-a-licious,” and a 25-second song about “Mister Meat” who “eats your yeast infection” (which sounds Oompa-Loompa-esque, but with zero the wit and half the catchy composition).

There is one redeeming song called “To the Love Within,” which infuses the beautiful berimbau, a traditional Brazilian instrument that sounds something like a magical bow being played with a maraca attached to it. That, paired with handclaps for percussion and the occasional whistle, perfectly complements Banhart’s shaky serenade.

Other than that, the creators of Surfing have abused their previous successes and produced something that, sadly, leaves you exhausted by the whole folk scene. Watching an episode of Flight Of the Concords or dusting off a copy of Spinal Tap’s Smell the Glove will better suite the craving to listen to a comedic novelty band. In short: Megapuss mega-sucks.

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