by Ryan Meehan
I’m going to skip the usual promotional material here: Trevor Moore is going to hell.
Now, there are a couple of bullet points I’d like to follow that up with:
1) We’re still not sure if there is a heaven or a hell
2) Regardless of whether there is or not, it’s doubtful that Trevor Moore believes in either one, and/or cares which one he’s headed to
While the debate over the first point has raged for centuries and will continue to do so until the earth eventually explodes, the second one seems to be pretty set in stone. Trevor is known for his work as the head producer and writer of the Independent Film Channel series “The Whitest Kids U Know”. His new disc “Drunk Texts to Myself” which comes out on March 26th is not a standup comedy CD. I was expecting a standup comedy album, so it took me a couple of days to get into it. But once I did, I could tell right away that Moore wasn’t fucking around.
The CD begins with a skit a grade school classroom skit that mocks the founding fathers and leads into a rap song about their drug habits, as well as mocking some of the principles this country is founded on. He moves on to a dubstep beat on the next track that is sure to ruffle some Hollywood feathers simply entitled “Tom Hanks is an Asshole”. It’s just three jokes and none of them are true, but the overall bit is to take the guy who’s known for being one of the nicest dudes in the film industry and it definitely works. The next track is about interspecies relations, and is followed by another intro and a very timely hip hop track about the pope’s ability to get that paper stack. As you can imagine with any reference to the Catholic church, there are a few guest vocals on this track performed by artists who aren’t over the age of eighteen. And if you thought that was bad, check out the video here:
Yeah. I probably should have prefaced that with “Not Safe for Work”, but I make a lot of mistakes and that won’t be my last. Anyway, the next song on the album features fellow CCR protégé Reggie Watts and happens to be the CD’s title track. The idea here is those late night ideas that we all have while drinking are recorded and then sent to your phone, only to wake up the next morning and go through them and not remembering a thing.
The next song is about circumcision and is listed as “God Hates the Tips” so you can use your imagination as to how severe this one is. Loosely based around the Queen classic “Fat Bottom Girls”, it’s also a very important reminder that if you’re going to make the decision to have that done to your offspring, do it as early as possible. Staying with the underage theme of the middle of the record, “Help Me” tells a cautionary tale of the dangers of teen pop stardom through the desperate pleas of a young man who’s made to sleep in a box between performances. Although his name is never mentioned in the song itself, I can bet that this one is directed in Justin Beiber’s direction. Is it an easy target? Of course it is, but it’s also pretty vile and I’m always looking for that.
Moore’s country offering on the record is called “What About Mouthwash?”, a rural recollection of a trip made to the gas station to buy beer only to find out that the checkout clerk isn’t sold on Moore’s fake ID. As an alternative option of “not counting the night up as a loss”, he discovers a bottle of Listerine and the rest of the song is about settling for other methods of distorting his own reality including (but not limited to) inhalants. The bridge of this track is probably the best part of the record.
The two final cuts nothing like the rest of the album. “My Mom’s a Bitch” is a play on some of the nu-metal angst that was unfortunately dominating the airwaves during the late nineties and early 00’s, and takes shots at all of the dudes with poorly inked wrist tattoos that were trying to be the next Staind or Limp-Wristed Bizkit. It’s pretty obvious that this is the case here, because first of all the song is in drop D tuning which is the definitive brain-numbing base note of the bonehead metal movement. Not only that, but the instrumentation on the rest of this album is almost flawless and on this song the drums and guitar almost sound as if they are in a contest to see which track can produce the worst take. I’m not even sure that there’s a bass guitar on this song at all, and I’d be willing to bet that’s intentional as well.
The disc wraps up with the soon-to-be finger-to the-establishment anthem “Time for Guillotines”, which is sure to land Trevor on some list that will eventually find his residence being patrolled by drones. I can’t be for sure, but I think this one is supposed to be a parody of some of the “We Are the World” supergroup celebrity charity singles recorded in the 80s only with a much more destructive message. When it’s all said and done, I’m left with two basic thoughts on this album: 1) The better material is on the latter half of the record, which is really rare on any release, and 2) This guy must have insane connections because I can’t believe how he’s able to get so many vocalists who are clearly children to sing some of this stuff – I can spot autotune from a mile away but this ain’t it…
Like I said before, there is no standup comedy on this CD. But if you give it a shot and aren’t easily offended, you may find it to be worth your while. When it comes to range, this disc is more along the lines of the Bloodhound Gang than Tenacious D because it covers so many different genres. While it may not be for everyone, as somebody who prides themselves on standing behind the bullshit smokescreen of being an anti-improv standup comedy purist it surely caught my attention and I was almost ready to shelve it. Thank Satan I didn’t, because I ended up keeping it in my car stereo all week and it entertained the cloudy piss out of me. (Editor’s Note: In my defense, I have an enlarged prostate and a very weak bladder)
On a final note, when I went to check what Amazon would recommend for me if i had searched for this album. Here’s a screenshot from that little adventure.
You can barely see it, but if you look in the bottom right hand corner of the jpeg, you’ll see that “customers who viewed this item also viewed” the new Stryper record. I understand that the two discs have the same release date and that’s probably the only reason that they are related, but it’s also funny as fuck. And somewhere, Trevor Moore is probably laughing his ass off at the whole thing – All the while, on his way “to hell with the devil”.
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