Review of Neon Dynamite’s Eponymous Album

Okay, I admit it.

I am not cool enough to do this review.

In the interest of disclosure, I should say this: I’m a white dude. Yes, I know. Shocking. And yet, there it is.

I have two dance moves. First, the thumbs-out, full body dry-heave that I stole from Elaine on Seinfeld that I use to pretend like I’m being ironic, when really it’s all I can manage. The second is the “roll the dice” move that I stole from Knocked Up, which I use to pretend I’m being meta-ironic, since they mocked the dance in the movie itself.

I have a Jimi Hendrix CD, but Wesley Snipes informed me years ago that I can’t hear Jimi. I have a couple BB King CDs, but the closest I’ve been to the blues is watching Jake and Elwood tear through Chicago in a used cop car. (Actually, that’s not true. The closest I’ve been to the blues is watching Blues Brothers 2000—THAT hunk of dog crap will give you the blues.)

   So anyway, I have no idea what to do with Neon Dynamite’s 5-track, self-titled release. I don’t think I can handle it. I mean that literally—holding a disc with these tracks might actually burn my flesh. Lyrically speaking, “Modern Love” reminds me of how inept I am in the sack. I mean, I don’t have a “missile in the gun clip” after all. Meanwhile, “Revival” shows me what a sheltered life I live. They come “with beats that are hardcore/got beef with an old score.” Hell, I always look over my shoulder any time I walk down a dark alley… these guys are keepin’ it real, yo!

And that’s just their lyrical awesomeitude (yes, I made that word up… no words in modern English could properly capture the sentiment). The funky beats they bring to the table have me hiding in the closet. No, seriously. Right now. I’m writing this review on my smartphone. A dance anthem like “Outta Control” takes me out of my ass-wiggling routine within about 10 seconds; I just don’t have the moves to keep up with that.  And “Sucker Punch” (no relation to the upcoming Chris Brown song by the same name) knocks me on my butt. My poor, flat, pasty, rhythmless butt.

Go pick up this album if you dare… but don’t blame me if it makes you feel inadequate.

Wait, what?

What’s that?

These dudes are white too?

Aww crap.

Song you should pay $1 for on iTunes, rather than downloading for free: Dude. The whole album is available free online—you don’t HAVE to choose where to spend a buck. Save it for the strip club. Win-win!

Rating: 4 Bootsy Collinses. The only rating funky enough to describe this release.