Puddle of Mudd probably isn’t really a band appropriately suited to really stretch out your creative muscles anyway. All in all, no real bells and whistles when it comes to production, which is fine.
I did catch some vocal layering in the mix, which I’m typically a fan of however, I was a little shocked that Scantlin even attempted to harmonize considering I can hardly picture him even tying his shoes in the morning.
The mastering and mixing of this album was completely off but I can only assume it’s because Webb just wanted to move the fuck on and cash his paycheck. Notice a trend? My four-year-old daughter could pick up on that pattern, if I chose to subject her to such atrocity. That basically sums up the entire album, but if you’re still not convinced, here are the titles to a few of the other tracks: Then he does some sort of break down that can only be described as comparable to the “Show Me Your Genitals” guy on YouTube but without the humor. With the guitar’s basic three-chord riff and the childlike boom-boom-plack of the drums in the song “Uh Oh”, it’s all the same old “Look at me, I keep fucking up” song we’ve heard over and over again. Listening to the songs only gave me a wicked case of “yawnorrea” and a complete sense of wasted time. At least then I get something from it … a clean floor. Let me put it this way: I get more excitement out of sweeping the floor than I got from this album.
Some might call it their attempt to be diverse, I call it lazy. Besides the fact that Scantlin’s voice has always reminded me of what a cat in a microwave might sound like, it’s a bit more watered down and mellow than most of the stuff they’ve released in the past.
Oh, how risqué of them! Give me a break.Īssuming you actually like the band, the album itself is nothing to write home about. Lacking any sort of substance, I’m pretty sure that the only reason they’ve had any success is because they used words like “ass” and “fuck” during a time period of Smash Mouth and Sugar Ray. Simple, bubble gum raunch that, like a fly continuously hitting a window pane, keeps coming back for more even though it’s absolute brain rot. The “reality show” of rock n’ roll: Puddle of Mudd.
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