THELONIOUS MONSTER - CALIFORNIA CLAM CHOWDER

I learned something new today: how to revitalize the dead. So, whatever evening plans we made, cancel them. I’ll be out back, summoning the heavens, calling forth the spirit of long-dead jazz genius, Thelonious Monk. I feel it’s only fair he be able to exact some sort of revenge upon a band who is casually raping his good name. And that’s what Thelonious Monster is doing-- nay, still doing-- raping.
California Clam Chowder is just like every other Thelonious Monster album I’ve ever heard: terrible. Big deal, they’ve been around for 20 years. That’s not perseverance. That’s being too stubborn to quit, despite the pleas of men, women, and children everywhere. And please, dudes, stop saying you’re "punk". It’s bad enough I have to hear all these Clearasil-using MTV pretty boys tossing that word around like it’s theirs. You’re about as punk as filing taxes. Maybe you should conform to some industry standards. It sure as shit couldn’t hurt your music, which, if blandness had a soundtrack, you’d be the composers.
Wait-- I’m not at all being constructive. I’m just being mean. I should reconsider....
Nah, fuck it. C’mon, Thelonious Monk’s corpse. I’ll drive you to the band’s next gig, so you can flip 'em f'real.