My Robot Friend
Dial 0

By Edward Blake

The name is an instant turn-off for me, so it’s with some trepidation that I place this into the CD player. My doubts are justified as the opening track of this album lamely drivels out of the speakers. How to describe such an unnoticeable album? It’s sort of 80s synth pop, like the Pet Shop Boys. It’s a bit Madchester, like the Stone Roses or the Charlatans. It’s a bit 21st century editcore, like all of those guys who jump around behind laptops, and it’s a bit electroclash, like that musical scene that misguidedly created a chance for the worst parts of the electronic music come back and live again for the benefit of the young’uns, who missed it the first time ‘round and think it’s good drinking and snogging music. Dial 0 continues to be as vacant as it’s name suggests — it's more of those 'kiddie time' melodies that seem to be so hip (or else why would people be doing them? Is it because even pop music grew out of it and so someone has to keep it up?) and a sense of the absurd that makes the idea of absurd absurd in itself. And that is a pretty fucked up situation. You know Jesus may have suffered for our sins, but I’m sure he didn’t have anything like this album in mind when he did so, and thus I would urge him to make haste in his return to this planet so that he can upgrade his suffering quota in light of the abominations the modern age is throwing upon us.
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