Punk bands are much more careful with satire than they used to be. Decades ago artists like The Fall or Nick Cave could pass for letting down racial slurs by adopting good intentions, but these days even the quietest acts of punk take respect some basic sensitivity, at least those looking to play outside of edgelord and 4chan circles. For bands like Viagra Boys at Stockholm, which have positive core values but have the brutal and ritualistic presentation, the ones that move are more of a challenge: how to motivate without offense or trolling. Their walking walk is satirical; it’s all about the band as an exercise in pushing bad taste without crossing the line into it.
They have certainly accomplished their visual presentation. One of Frontman Sebastian Murphy ‘s biggest bad roles has ever been, an infamous offspring he used in the band’ s breakout video for “Sports.” On stage it’s very likely that you’ll find him shirtless, wearing the hunter’s dark sunglasses permanently, shifting his hips in mockery of sexual praise or pouring beer over the brutal, tattooed chest of his. In the studio, Viagra Boys evokes that scene even without the visual imagery, thanks in part to Murphy ‘s slow growth – he’ s in the presence of a silly voice from a man who hasn’t moved. never. The band’s post-punk rhythms are also embellished with cartoonish, slow and gnarly clarity, written by unruly saxophones that overlap portions of songs where horns don’t usually belong.
On the band’s 2018 record Street worms they talked about toxic masculinity and classicism, and both are still targets on their chaotically jubilant sophomore record Jazz Jazz. But increasingly, Murphy is directing his aim at the mirror, too, calling himself out for his own dickish behavior. Over the record’s worst groove on the “Ain’t Nice” opener, he plays the part of the shitty boyfriend, getting close to his partner while using the cap as its personal storage unit. A few songs describe his quest to be a better man, often in cribbed lyrics from old songwriting ropes. He saves the poorest of them all for “Into the Sun,” where Murphy apologizes for the love he’s done wrong, votes to end his sly ways and win the heart back. Even without the cliches, his promise is clearly unbelievable.
As always, the band brushes against the limits of good taste. On “Toad,” Murphy jokes like an old bluesman – or a giant scene of white rockers imitating old bluesmen – about not needing a woman. He adopts a racist-like view of the saying “This Old Dog”. On “Creatures,” a clear synth-pop slab, he describes how unemployed senders survive on scrap metal and stolen copper. His picture is not without sympathy – Murphy has been there, he sings – but he plays into the most parasitic stereotypes in society news. There is a feeling about it.
And for a band that makes fun of bourgeois as dog shows on their debut, there’s a sense that the band sometimes punches down a handful of tracks that take the piss out of country music, to traditional music the lower working class. Sniffers’ Amyl and Amy Taylor join the band for the looney cover of the late John Prine’s “In Spite of Ourselves” which explores the difference between obedience and ridicule, with Murphy and Taylor performing. competition to throw the most sinking, isolated Southern accents.
Is satire a cover-up, or, like the absurdist death-disc bragger “Girls & Boys,” is it just a sill because of silliness? As with many Jazz Jazz, it ‘s not always clear, but Viagra Boys are a better band because they give themselves the freedom to do both, and between bellow Murphy’ s big wolf and those unnamed horns, even the most polluting material of the band passes through with a lively cartoon twist. Viagra Boys has a gift for getting listeners to engage in choices that might break if the music wasn’t all so funny.
Buy: Rough Trade
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