Twelve shots of Singapore Sling ain't bad going down, but man, it packs a bad aftertaste. The Icelandic band's sophomore album, Life Is Killing My Rock 'N' Roll, is a little bit noise rock, a little bit psychedelic trip, but mostly, it's a series of songs I swear I've heard before. The album consists of lugubrious bass lines against layered vocals and minimalist guitar work. If the only music you've ever heard is the pap blasted through Clear Channel, you might get a kick out of the gritty, throwback rock that Singapore Sling produces. For the rest of us, there are plenty of other bands that do what Life Is Killing My Rock 'N' Roll tries to do--only better (see: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, The Dandy Warhols). Singapore Sling ties the album together with atonal twists, but that's only clever and artsy in the way black-and-white photography always seems clever and artsy. The album isn't musically insulting, because the bands they imitate have talent. It's just desperately lacking in identity.
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