The Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower

Love in the Fascist Brothel is a mess. Like looking at a bad photocopy of a Jackson Pollack painting, you can see what is special about the movement but it’s not a shining example.

The Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower’s second full-length album serves up half-decent experimental noise-punk, but that’s all that it is. What has started as a great idea (mixing a university marching band with the screeches of the Blood Brothers) has become too overdrawn and almost a parody of itself. “Rattus Uber Alles” and “Drake the Fake” are perfect examples of what the rest of the album sounds like. Each song consists of three parts: one chaotic horn riff in the background, muffled pre-pubescent vocals and the questioning of where the song is headed. Thank goodness that the entire album clocks in at under half an hour.

The album’s only strength is during the first couple songs where upon primary listening it seems kind of cool. The randomness of the instruments are likeable but irritating once you get past the fourth song. The band does not progress much from 2003’s Dissertation, Honey but gives hope that they do have talent hidden somewhere -- individually maybe, but not likely as a cohesive band.

During their five-year tenure, the Plot to Blow Up the Eiffel Tower seemed hellbent on keeping to ‘opening band’ status because they had nothing special unless repetitive wails from a saxophone could be considered such. Love in the Fascist Brothel isn’t at all convincing of otherwise, especially when there is no climax to its plot.