Megapuss: “Surfing” by Jacob Levi

I can imagine record stores accidentally shelving Megapuss’ debut album “Surfing” in the death metal section on the basis of the unsavory name, but this collaborative effort from Devendra Banhart and Priestbird’s Greg Rogove is anything but cacophonous. I also imagine that the duo would giggle at the sight of such a misrepresentation. Devendra Banhart is well known for his bizarre antics and psychedelic/surreal folk music, combining a traditional a folk- guitar sound with off-kilter lyrics and variations. While this album is more electrified than Banhart’s acoustic guitar melodies, the rich eclecticism and irony in the lyrical and instrumental compositions is as strong as ever. “Surfing” garners influence from surf-rock and blues-rock, at times sounding something like Chuck Berry, and other times it takes a page from The Beatles, circa Magical Mystery Tour. Swinging guitar melodies accompanied by the squeak of fingers over frets combines with sturdy, if conventional drums and powerful bass lines to show reverence for “classic” rock, while the lyrics appeal to a more ridiculous- perhaps even Dionysian- listener.

Fans of Devendra need not worry that their favorite crazy-folk-renaissance man has gone electric like Dylan; this is clearly a side-project that apparently began as a joke. The story goes that the duo challenged each other to write songs with ridiculous lyrics in ten minutes--it turns out what they wrote was actually pretty good. André Breton would certainly have something to say concerning the patently surreal lyrics and the apparently “automatic” writing style. The lack of reflection seems to have allowed for a new level of lyrical absurdity.

Certainly there is a great deal of intended shock value in Megapuss’ music. The first song on the album is a love song with a serenading trumpet introduction that repeats, “All my loving / All my loving / ‘Cause it’s all for you” to a swinging melody with heavy use of the hi-hat; the song is called “Crop Circle Jerk ’94.” Your guess is as good as mine. The artists obviously revel in their own misdirection. Megapuss is almost always on the limit between childish crudity and a thoroughly ironic disposition, and surely many listeners will be scared away by their bizarre sense of humor. But it appears that, according to the 2008 Zeitgeist, the injunction against the profane and inflammatory is passé and you can write a slow song named “Chicken Titz” or a robotic jingle called “Mister Meat (Hot Rejection)” without causing a fuss. Hey, if Sarah Palin can run for vice-president, everything is permissible, right?

At other points, crudity gives way to the downright absurd. The second song on the album-my personal favorite-is “Duck People Duck Man.” It opens to a muted acoustic guitar melody with the title sung repeatedly. This hypnotic line becomes the backdrop for a strange raspy voice, speaking on behalf of the duck people: “Don’t tell me we look like ducks; that’s a stereotype / We cross bridges; that’s a stereotype that’s true / We buy hummus from Trader Joes; windsurfing / Have you ever had hummus with white beans and basil? It’s delicious / We don’t even need pita bread; we just eat the hummus by itself.” There’s no use hyper-intellectualizing songs like this; they’re completely inane, but thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining. Megapuss invents a world of creatures and concepts that fills the album with a language that is thoroughly their own. It is the same kind of ridiculous ethnopomorphism that the Beatles experiment with in “I Am the Walrus,” “Piggies,” and “Rocky Racoon, ” although, I would not dare draw a categorical association between the two groups.

It would, however, be unfair to characterize “Surfing” as a totally detached collection of work because, at times, the social consciousness of Megapuss is apparent. “A Gun on his Hip and a Rose on his Chest” is an anti-establishment anthem with a simple swinging guitar line, maracas and bassdrum. Musically, the song is a throwback to the early days of rock and swing, reminiscent of Chuck Berry. This is a song that appeals to the “maverick” in each of us, and its message is pretty clear: “Fuck the president in the asshole / Fuck the government in the asshole / Fuck the taxes in their IRS’s / Got a gun on my hip and a rose on my tit—yeah!” Yet there is a always an air of levity to Megapuss’ music that is obvious from their own self-referential jokes. Later in the song, they sing, “Fuck Abe Lincoln—Ahhh! I’m just Kiddin’”. Yeah, they certainly are. It is not hard to write a funny song with a couple of witty digs and bizarre jokes; it is a rare treat to find an album that is as musically engaging and mercilessly absurd as Megapuss’ “Surfing.” In whatever section the attendees at the record store decide to shelve it, “Surfing” is worth your time.