Out Hud

Let Us Never Speak of It Again

So many bland new-wave bands have emerged so far in the '00s that they're beginning to dry up the musical credibility of the original '80s synth-pop and -rock experiments they're ostensibly inspired by. Fischerspooner is supposed to be the New Order-meets-Cirque du Soleil, even as the old New Order continues to try to be relevant. So thank goodness for bands like Out Hud, which has figured out how to make danceable rock without recycling old gimmicks. Smart musicianship aside (think fat, gooey bass lines, deep grooves, and plenty of cowbell), one of the band's greatest talents lies in its song titles: "The Song So Good They Named It Thrice," "One Life to Leave," and (the real doozy) "Dear Mr. Bush, There are over 100 words for shit and only 1 for music. Fuck You, Out Hud." Surely nothing more needs to be said.

 
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