Written by Spike Sidor

HISSING PRIGS IN STATIC COUTURE

Brainiac Hissing Prigs in Static Couture Review Album Cover

BRAINIAC

1996 NOISE-ROCK/ART-PUNK

Hissing Prigs In Static Couture is the third and final album by Ohio dopamine makers Brainiac. It’s a mystery how the band and this record aren’t among the most celebrated of the mid-nineties. All the ingredients are there, plucky outsiders with a charismatic front man who’s life was tragically cut short, an underground weirdness that looked to innovate in the then rising genres of noise and indie rock, and sharp pop sensibilities to attract a wider audience. Perhaps their supposed flaw is being too weird. An album title that sounds like a futurist colloquialism involving high fashion. The cover, which feels like pop art created in a world of ceaseless rain with the band’s name emblazoned in half leetspeak and the track listing matching, but physical aesthetics will hardly do much to drive away the average listener.

The real crux is that the music is odd, but there is more to it than that, it is purposefully odd. The concept around Hissing Prigs creation was to make pop that exists in the future, as such Brainiac made the tunes as outlandish as possible while retaining enough familiarity to make it clearly of this world. Most tracks will have you thinking; is that crazy noise a guitar or synth and how many more bizarre affectations will this singer lay down and what do these random strings of words some call lyrics mean and why do I feel the uncontrollable urge to dance anyway? The opener 1ND1AN POK3R – PART 3 is like stepping into an airlock with its buzz of distorted instrumentation filling the chamber to prepare you for the harsh unrealities of the sonic space ahead. The doors part to our hip, well-tailored animal of a singer. His growls are more eccentric showmanship than fury as he sways to the funky groove of PU55YFOOT1N’. Colorful squeaks of synths adorn the floor as abrasive guitars strut their stuff. The lyrics are, well, I’ve no idea what they are but the noises produced as a result are just right.

But how, shut your mouth
I’ve rather been good or down
Baby baby why, baby baby why

It’s got an off the wall catchiness that is very charming, a near constant quality to come. It feels strange calling V1NC3NT COM3 ON DOWN a hot single with its choppy metallic guitars and whirring synths but it is. In no small part due to the terrific yelled vocals and effects-driven warbles on the break. The lyrics are a surreal soup but one I can somehow recite word for word.

2, 4, 6, 8!
Tell me who I’m supposed to hate!
I can’t quit the goose step, tell me it’s a two-step process!

TH15 LITTL3 PI99Y surprises by softening its edges at least for the verses. Hyde transforms to Jekyll as he whispers and is mirrored by a rudimentary synthetic voice on the verses. On its face this feature seems like it would be a severe annoyance but blends seamlessly with the freakish futurism of Hissing Prigs. The curios continue on 5TRUN9, a track of humming anxiety. Possessive lyrics punctuated by a heavily processed scream queen provide not only variety but cooling down the listener for the next rabid high. We are awakened by the miraculous sci-fi drug that is HOT 53AT CAN’T 51T DOWN. multiple flavors of guitar swing across the synapses, building up with a glitchy sample on the bridge before colliding in joyful cacophony. The chameleon vocalist shifts as the instrumentation does covering a weirdo range that most don’t attempt in their whole careers let alone one song; the manic outbursts on the chorus being of the most brilliant of the colors.

TH3 VUL9AR TRAD3 is a fascinating interlude. Made of a sample reading from the hundreds of years old Jew of Malta. Yet as a wall of electronic noise rolls in to consume it turns and takes on another character, one which I imagine an interplanetary merchant on a Dune-esque planet dealing fine goods to greedy imperials. The band becomes predictable on B33K33P3R5 MAX1M. There’s sparse lyrics about being a contemplative queen bee but that’s really it. It’s similar to the This Little Piggy from earlier in the listing the issue is that it’s only a little quirky whereas their strength lies in madcap tangents and thankfully we get back to that on K155 M3, U JACK3D UP J3RK. A Latin tinged whirlwind with its raking percussion and absurd accents. It bounces from one extreme to another with a jubilant burst of guitars on the chorus that die down as guff monotone is paired with goofy innocence on the repetition of the track’s title. When looking up the lyrics for it there is a line on the bridge that simply states incomprehensible hyperactive screams, that’s as good of a summary as there can be. The screams on 70 K9 MAN come from a relentless steam of rocking distortion. The hook has no right to be as catchy as it is, sounding like utter nonsense especially amongst its uncanny company.

Three cheers, one kiss, and a punch
We love him like a shot of crutch
So let’s all give a warm, warm hand
To the 70 kilogram man

After a short, brain busting collage of noise Brainiac pumps out another hit that no one has heard in NOTH1NG 3V3R CHAN935. The drums pop with tactile satisfaction as the vocals flow with masculine pomp. Once more the chorus is an earworm as harried yells join with the established base. As is sung at its start, scream if you want to scream, goddamn I think I will. The closer, 1 AM A CRACK3D MACHIN3, is the most aggressively dissonant take of the experience, a shiny bow to wrap the proton bomb. Unlike prior songs the singer has only one mode which is that of a throat shredding robot.

I am a cracked machine
I am a guide wire hussy
I am your favorite DJ
A blip on the screen

The disorderly delight fades away leaving malfunction electronics and our leading man to carry away this trip through time, but Hissing Prigs exists in an impossible plane. Perhaps in a cyberpunk near future this will be the noise of basement shows put on by malcontents but to be pop music flowing through the ears of the masses at packed stadiums and bumping vehicle stereos is as close to inconceivable as it gets. As much as it would please me to hear tunes like Brainiac by regular happenstance, the idea of it is terrifying. What would society be like and if that is mainstream what the hell is experimental? On second thought, I want to live in that universe. 

8-9/10

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