Review
Moistboyz
V

Moistboyz aren’t a particularly active group. The band, based around the duo of vocalist Guy Heller and multi-instrumentalist Mickey Melchiondo (aka Dean Ween), has only released five items in about twenty years. V is the third full-length in that bunch and, while the artists have aged, it’s clear they haven’t matured.

The band plays an eclectic hard rock, with Heller’s sing-shout vocals coming rapid-fire, angry, and vile. The drumming pounds in syncopation with Heller’s vitriol. There’s a bit of shock value in it, a focus on turning a clever phrase, and keeping a caffeinated, high octane delivery. When it slows down, it’s of a stoner variety. While this record brings some variety from track to track, the core sound is never-let-up rock with an intention to make you either laugh or to walk out in disgust. That focus comes through lyrics that aim at the direct and the taboo. “Call you hermaphrodite/ ‘cause you can fuck yourself,” Heller reflects in “Paperboy” with a swinging rock ’n’ roll swagger to his delivery. It’s blunt, juvenile, and reflective of the material as a whole. The actual vocals here, with the more sing-song approach, are a welcome change-up from his typical rapid-fire spitting and it lends a bit more of a rounded package to the overall sound. Similarly, when the band adopts a countrified influence in “Chickendick” and “Down on the Farm” or when Heller adopts something of a dramatic 1970s-styled epic in “My Time to Die,” a song that parodies on said genre, going so far as to fill it song with lyrics about getting stoned, the results are far better. It’s still tongue-in-cheek smack talk, but it’s got a little more artistic merit behind it. When they stick to the punchy, forward-driving sound it has the feel of a joke band. When they expand on that base, it gives a somewhat multi-leveled tone that gleans more value.

With Moistboyz, though, it seems to be about hitting on that already familiar chugging style established with albums I-IV. They’ve got their shtick down and they’re sticking to it. “One Cut at a Time” is a classic example of this, proving both that the band hasn’t changed and that they can still leave a bad taste in one’s month, denoting “There’s something in your mouth/ and it tastes like rape.” That, folks, is summary enough.