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![](http://othermusic.com/images/up_82564681321.jpg)
$13.99 CD
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UFFIE
Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans
(Elektra)
"Art of Uff"
"Difficult"
This is a baffling, but strangely important record. I don't think I've ever seen such un-distilled bile spit in the direction of an album upon reading the initial reviews for this one; that alone was enough to make me devilishly curious to hear the CD upon its arrival here. I'd been familiar with Uffie's previous singles for the French Ed Banger label (most famously home to Justice, among others), but I'm not sure anything could have prepared me (or anyone else, for that matter) for Sex Dreams and Denim Jeans. The album is far from flawless, but its off the cuff, nearly abstract exercises in popwise beat construction and bratty, nonsensical, head-scratching lyrics are what make it worth listening to. In many ways, Uffie is the GG Allin of mallrat clubpop; the album is chock full o' lyrics that are as self-destructive and careless as the infamous punk-rock feces-eater (albeit in obviously different ways), where she tells listeners how much she doesn't care, how many material goods she possesses, how the crack she's smoking is really good, and how she's essentially tricked the record business into releasing this record, where the singles are literally years old. It's witty, yes, but it's also really offensive in perhaps an unprecedented manner -- after, for better or worse, listening to this record about a dozen times, I'm not sure I'd be comfortable with either my teenage sisters or some Chelsea or Williamsburg club kids listening to this and absorbing what it either stands for or parodies, depending on your point of view. Let me put it another way: if this CD included video footage of the recent "riot" that took place at South Street Seaport's aborted, overcrowded concert by Drake and Hanson (?!?), you'd have a pretty good time capsule of what's going wrong with pop culture and what corporations encourage and sell to youth these days.
That alone makes me feel that the record really does need to be heard, and thankfully, some of the beats and backing tracks are great from a pop standpoint. Mr. Oizo makes his contributions fresh and odd enough to merit repeated listens, and there are tracks where Uffie sings so far off-key that she actually stumps the auto-tune into avant-garde meltdown. There are hooks aplenty, and there's a mix of coked-out disco glitz, hip-hop swagger, drunken karaoke unselfconsciousness, and the impish, giggling awe of a high school trickster marveling at how they've managed to pull off the Big Con and get away with it. I feel like Malcolm McLaren would be proud -- this is the closest thing to the Great Rock 'N' Roll Swindle I've heard in ages. [IQ]
Order CD by Texting "omcduffiesex" to 767825 |
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