The Lost Schleppy III (Page Inc.) Review
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"Folk music? The fuck you say! I'd rather just kill myself"
The brown acid, man. It was everywhere. Much of which was ingested by the Woodstock Generation of lazy draft-dodging suburban white America who are all now Wall Street executives. The brown acid (or what the Trump administration would call “Muslim acid”) was brutal. It outright fried-fucked many a brain of the hippie fucktard leaving them half unconscious in mud as Hendrix played the Star Spangled Banner. When these filthy hippies finally found their way home it wasn’t to a welcome mat but rather a rude awakening that yielded the vulgarity of the 1970’s. These hippies weren’t just run down and idle, they were so fucking stupid to the point where they had to “respeculate” what to make of their privileged yet meaningless lives.
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Schleppy (Page Inc.) cira 1970
That’s where folk music stepped in. Folk music is basically guilt-free white music. Suburban white America was about to shed the skin of the “da blooz” so many limeys ripped off, got wrong and sold back to them at twice the price. America’s racism needed a new tack and there in no music more racist then folk music. Plus folk music is “mellllooooowwwww, man.” I mean, haven’t you ever been mellow? Folk music exist on an entirely different ontological plane where clouds, butterflies and other arbitrary shit in nature weaved into a completely new economy. Sure folk music is older than servile labor but this time it was “poetic” not protestic and its secondary wave was about to rise into some of the most ridiculous unlistenable shit ever to be recorded. The days of the brown acid were over.
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"Believe it not, I work in corporate finance." Really? Me too."
Schleppy (Page Inc.) had two albums in the can that spoke on the philosophic categories of date rape, Vikings, and more date rape. Their third pile of slab maggoty had to apply some sort of a logician alternative and create a new false scheme. As usual, Schleppy was unqualified to take on such a task. They were a steam piston-powered juggernaut of plagiarism and worn-out copious riffs and for Page Inc. to play “acoustic” could be applicable to their fans with a fundamental reorganization if they could find some way to adjust without the use of the brown acid. Of course, they couldn’t shake themselves of their infantile province of songwriting. Once again, the Vikings were back heralded by Plant’s (of Page Inc.) pelvic guttural screaming and Page's (of Page Inc.) bumbling guitar novelty. Schleppy (Page Inc.) thought they had developed a new attitude to any subject matter they choose to write about when really, the voyage to Valhalla was nothing more than a ferry ride to the shores of recycledom. Even with the superfluous attempt at a metaphysical cover art complete with rotating wheel all Schleppy III (Page Inc.) did was take the listener on circles.
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The original covers for Schleppy III (Page Inc.) more tastefully done
Maybe it was circumstance that made Schleppy III (Page Inc.) such an arguably boring record. Schleppy (Page Inc.) thought it would be wise to forgo the usual studio environment and become hippie castaways somewhere on the limey countryside. So they rented a mobile studio from the Stones and decide for themselves to “discover” the lands of the Hobgoblin. Who knows why this was such a good idea other than Schleppy (Page Inc.) didn’t want the suits from their label around. For that I can commend them but in an analogous stance, it was fucking stupid. To say Schleppy III also lacks any direction would be too easy but again its circles within circles of boredom and mediocrity that dictate any path Schleppy (Page Inc.) had in mind.
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Exhibit A: limey inspiration
The tedious of Schelppy III (Page Inc.) comes from the instrumentation itself. Page (of Page Inc.) turns the unbalanced blend of the acoustic with the eclectic while dog-pile fucking a banjo, mandolin, and even pedal steel (all of which he plays sophomorically) all of which comes across a verbal statement rather than musical one. None of that gels with Plant’s (of Page Inc.) shitty attempt so mingling Tolkien with soft core depositions of Aristotle, Berkeley, Hume, and Kant.
”There is a train that leaves the station heading for your destination but the price you pay to nowhere has increased a dollar more. (Yes, it has) And if you walk you're going to get there, and though it takes a little longer, and when you see it in the distance you will wring your hands and moan.”
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Plant (of Page Inc.) writing the lyrics for Schleppy III (Page Inc.)
Fucking astonishing how the word “and” maintains the same reference but I guess I should welcome this a bold retreat from the usual date rape tripe. Could be I have no idea was is to be presupposed here. Is Schleppy III (Page Inc.) attempting to follow in some sort of Pythagorean tradition where the rise if Euro trash philosophy is being revitalized? As for the mathematics, Plant (of Page Inc.) talks about working 7 – 11 “every night” and how that bums him out because his cheating bitch sees him for the part-time loser he truly is. Page (of Page Inc.) become a tool and wallops out the most fuck-awful annoying static “blooz” lines I’ve ever heard. reductio ad absurdum at its finest.
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Page, Plant, and Boham (of Page Inc.) at their day jobs.
The vibratory differentials Schleppy (Page Inc.) shoots for start to lose energy as they churn out another generalized spatial ending to an otherwise painful side one. I’ll give it credit that the record this far has a stability despite being as self-contained as it is. Yet, as with any other Schleppy (Page Inc.) offering vitiation seems to manifest time and time again. Too bad there was no brown acid around. When Schleppy (Page Inc.) tries to omit intuitive mode of unintelligible cock-riffing, do they ever embarrass themselves. Who knew that was possible? Trying to come as passive is really boredom played a Harmony guitar. Even when they try to play soft they can’t but help to sound agitated. Opting for a traditional ballad only works when you understand them, not eternalize them into mush. There is absolutely nothing new here. Schleppy (Page Inc.) may believe they are reaching the substratum of the Laurel Canyon crowd when it reality they sound so fucking ridiculous only clearly demonstrating how far Page (of Page Inc.) can abide in his plagiarism and how he is collapsing under the weight of it.
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Better than art work of Starry night
As more and more mandolins dominate the background the more and more dismal Schleppy III (Page Inc.) becomes. Was this Page’s (of Page Inc.) formula for success? To limit the progression that so many of his fellow true-as-shit taking brown and compadres worked so hard to achieve? Even Joni Mitchell knew it’s not the quantity of the folk instruments you play but the quality in which you play them. That’s the true cosmology of post-brown acid generation, maaaaaaaan.
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"Occupy this, motherfucker!"
Schleppy III (Page Inc.) tries to save its demeanor by returning to a rancor “blooz toon” which pays homage to their plagiarizing roots. A passive-aggressive number about being turned into a monkey while exhibiting misogyny and murder. By far the most retarded shit they ever put to tape probably being recorded as they took the short bus back home to their limey mansions. Yes, too bad they had no brown acid on the way. They might have seen the Hobgoblin that they were looking for.
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Keep on searching, you fucking idiot
