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The Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower

Love in the Fascist Brothel
Revelation

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I've always been a sucker for oddball bands with gimmicky names (remember I Am the World Trade Center?), and much to my delight, the San Diego-based Plot revels in gimmickry not just in name, but also in cover art, stage costume and spirit. And as for the sound? Truth be told, anyone familiar with San Diego's legendary spazzcore scene, pioneered by hardcore labels like Gravity Records, has heard this sort of thing before: schizophrenic art-punk played at the speed of light, and accompanied by completely unintelligible lyrics about teen-age sex, the violence of modern living, etc.

 

 

But as intense and fist-clenching as this album is, it's also something of a tell that the Plot feels compelled to sport Nazi armbands in their press photos, and to include cartoon imagery of sieg-heiling German soldiers in their CD booklet. Then again, many a run-of-the-mill hardcore band has gone on to commercial success because of their stage-performance shtick; the Locust, for instance, who perform in insect costumes, got ink in the New York Times because of its drummer's inclination to vomit after every set. As for the Plot, I suspect it's also a band one needs to see live in order to fully appreciate.

 

And during the rare instances here when the group's frontman puts down his microphone and picks up his sax, the Plot becomes a different band altogether: a band with the sincerity (and the dance-punk riffs) that might easily transform them into the standout act they quite obviously have the talent to become.

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