Whiff o’ the Week: The Last Hurrah
“You needn’t die happy when your time comes, but you must die satisfied, for you have lived your life from the beginning to the end and ka is always served.”
Ascend the tower and find what fate may hold. This is Whiff o’ the Week.
Last time we met, I tasked you with determining the catchiest piece of crap ever flushed into your eardrums. As fate would have it, you crowned me and flushed Toby Keith unto the end of all things. I say thankee.
Before we begin our competition today, I have an important announcement. Today will be the final edition of Whiff o’ the Week for the foreseeable future. When I first started this column, I envisioned it as a lighthearted counterpart to Riff ov the Week that would give us a fun place to air our musical grievances. However, as the weeks dragged on, this series became more difficult to maintain and felt like an exercise in overt negativity. I don’t enjoy writing about music I don’t like. That isn’t who I am, and that isn’t the kind of blogger I want to be. Therefore, I am putting Whiff o’ the Week on indefinite hiatus. To everyone who participated, I say thank you. Many of your comments have been like diamonds in the rough for me. Rest assured, we will find other fun ways to maintain participation on Sundays. Don’t give up on us.
That said, today we are hosting what is quite likely our most difficult whiff category. I charged you with finding the biggest dud in Mike Patton‘s catalogue. Choose.
I actually quite like this album, but I know some of you most certainly aren’t into turntablism and will consider this a boring dud.
In most cases, I’m well and truly on board with the wacky antics of Mr. Patton. But this guest appearance on “Dracula Cha Cha” (lolbuttz) by Australian experimental tango band The Tango Salon (lolbuttz∞) is not one for the highlight reel…
Musically this is fine, but Mike Patton spends most of his time squatting like he needs to do a shit and comes off looking like that drunk guy at a gig who gets up on stage then doesn’t know what to do once he gets up there. When he does chime in, it’s just a yell or a scream, which is disappointing.
Sorry Mike, Lady Gaga does it better.
Disclaimer: I really, really like Faith No More and Mike Patton’s collaborations with The Dillinger Escape Plan, and I enjoy Mr. Bungle if I’m in the right mood. However, Patton himself (and his over-the-top diehard fans by extension) has always struck me as a major, pretentious douche-chill, and this interview from documentary about the making of 1992’s Angel Dust (1:17:36) is a perfect representation of why. Flush this guy forever.
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
There it is. Who will emerge as the final king of the whiff? You decide.
Feel free to defend any of these choices in the comments section and tell me what a turd I am for my opinion. Also, if you hate something I love, send it to me for the next Whiff o’ the Week! All opinions here are strictly those of the writer in question, although most of them are correct.