YOUR OWN REVIEW
Being a compilation, this is a record of mood swings,
as if Angry forgot to take his meds. HOPPIN' MAD runs the gamut
from giddiness to despair, and back again.
In THE GREAT KILLVILLE FIRST NATIONAL BANK ROBBERY, Angry is just casing
the joint before the big scores of High Noon in Killville, Indian Motorcycle
Song, and Henry -- although the "hero" of this song actually
gets away with it, a fortune that favors few in Killville. Even
rarer is the happy ending for BETTY JEAN, who finds love in the most unlikeliest
of places -- Dewey's Bar. BINKY AND STINKY have a much more typically
Angry night on the town, but the standard brawling and gunplay end in
one great punchline -- "It's flirting with danger to puke on a stranger,
much better you puke on a friend."
HELL COME TO KILLVILLE is a '50s B-movie in two minutes and change --
think CCR's It Came Out of the Sky, with zombies to boot. Angry's
mistaking of Alice Cooper's line, "Held up in the intensive care
ward" in The Ballad of Dwight Fry as "TENNESSEE AIR WARS"'
results in a flight of fancy about a Dixie dogfight with Alabama. CHUCK
WEED is just as silly as the first time you smoke pot and laugh for
hours on end.
MICHAEL O'DRISCOLL, TOMMY GUN JONES, and GEORGE MONROE are pure yellow
journalism, Angry as crime reporter. WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT
MOMMA? is straight out of Devil's Rejects: The Musical, as if Otis and
Baby Firefly managed to get Captain Spaulding to shut up long enough for
them to record a creepy duet. This cinematic approach continues in the
noirish CHARLOTTE and the first-person-shooter MARY LOU. I WANNA
TELL YOU A STORY does so better than the rest -- weighty with tragedy,
chilly detail, and a central mystery that Angry asserts can never truly
be solved. "There ain't no moral so don't look for one."
ROSCOE is one of Angry's most thoroughly convincing murder ballads, pitting
brother against brother to the deep-rooted authenticity of a balalanka
strum. Songs like this are the reason listeners often assume that
Killville must lie in the Deep South.
HOPPIN' MAD would never play on vinyl, because it is virtually Scratch-free,
but when Satan finally does turn up, it's for the topper NO ONE WAS AROUND.
An unremittingly bleak, jangley nightmare about suicide and indifference,
this is one of the darkest -- and most effective -- songs Angry has penned.
Given the schizophrenic diversity of the music and moods on this disc,
the cover is particularly appropriate: Angry in a comical bunny
suit, a PBR in one hand, a sawn-off shotgun in the other. This is
the dichotomy of Angry Johnny: One can never be sure just what the
man is capable of. You don't know whether to laugh, or run for your
life. You might want to do both. I'm fairly certain he couldn't
pull the trigger with those bunny mittens on, but I wouldn't want to find