What did you expect, lads? You submitted an album for review that came out eleven years ago (Compound the Fracture/Coil Unwind) along with one that came out seven years ago (If Your Face Were On Fire, I'd Put It Out With a Sickle), possibly hoping to get attention for your new album, due out in 2008 (oops). The first album is out of print, and the second is only available from one venue. If there's download information, it's extremely well hidden. Your website is nearly blank. And you're called Ass Coffee. To be fair, we've recently reviewed albums by Breasts and Ass, and at least one group (Anal C**t) did garner a modicum of fame despite an idiotic name. But seriously, what were you thinking? How old were you back then? Were you big Beavis and Butthead fans? ("He said 'ass,' heh-heh. "Would you like to see my bunghole?")

If you want to be taken seriously, you'll have to produce better music. When you recorded your first album, you may have been in high school and still learning. But to me, Compound the Fracture sounds like an A.D.D. practice session - some interesting ideas, but none explored in depth. Back then, some Chicago reviewers labeled your sound "avant jazz," perhaps because they confused randomness with improv. Sure, there's moments – ten seconds at a time, perhaps – when you approach a free-jam madness and show sparks of talent. But why not develop the ideas, allow the guitar a freer range, the drums a breather, the piano some room to wander? Then there's the strange case of "John Ramsey," a murderer's spoken-word monologue over piano that turns to buzzing and noodling two-thirds of the way in. The inclusion of this piece is bizarre; it might have worked as a centerpiece in a conceptual album on Staalplaat, but is woefully out of place here. Finally, the egregious synthesizer stabs on "My Dog Likes Me Better When I Drink Beer" come across as amateurish and poorly planned. These same keys were made famous by Shannon on "Let the Music Play" and "Give Me Tonight." If you are aiming to poke fun at 80's dance music, the joke isn't funny (and trust me, it's pretty easy to make fun of 80's dance music), and if you're trying to produce something musically moving, you've done so in an incomprehensible way. I know you describe your sound as "someone had an extra serving of stupid," but stupid would have been more entertaining. It's hard to imagine a worse album.

Four years down the line, you have actually improved a bit. Your mastering is legible, rather than blurred, and your guitar and drum work have shown definite signs of maturity. But once again, your silly side works against you. There's a Nine Inch Nails vibe apparent on the opening track, "It's Lonely Being a Cannibal," meaning the drums are crunchy and the singing morose; unfortunately, the overall effect is one of imitation. "The Hair We Had in the 80s" does have a clever title, although no one was really looking for a happy hardcore revival. Again, this may have been meant as an overall commentary on defunct genres, but if so, it's not quite clear. "How Can You Sleep When Your Loins Are On Fire?" is well-constructed, although it is not well-played; the drums seem to be having an awful time keeping up with the guitars, and every time the song rises from a break, they lag behind like a little boy whose friends are trying to ditch him. The next track has the opposite problem. Each individual component in "You Are the Fabric Softener in My Laundry of Madness" is played well, but when they are put together, the effect is somewhat jagged, like puzzle pieces shoved into the wrong places. "The Dry Land Just Wants Affection, Kissy Girl" contains moments of such ill-timed abrasion that it becomes painful to listen to; one yearns for a conductor to keep the proceedings on point. "Will Propel Us Into an Unclear Future" is just one long pattern, looking for a song. And the nine-minute "Existence Is Meaningless and Life Is Absurd, So Wipe that Rotten Smile Off Your Face" lacks the sense of growing tension that would otherwise have justified its length; each section leads to the next, math-rock style, but without a sense of intention.

So, Ass Coffee: perhaps I'm missing the point here - some greater picture, some larger compositional vision. Or perhaps your act is exactly what it appears to be: a group of class clowns, having fun. If so, there will probably always be a place for you on a local stage, but unless you hone your act, becoming insightfully sarcastic or pratfallishly clever, widespread acclaim will probably continue to escape you. Then again, if you fit the image you've presented, you won't care about this review; you'll find it funny, paste it to your walls and wear it as a badge of honor.

-Richard Allen