Standing on the Corner’s third album – inappropriately titled Standing on the Corner II – is a lot of things. That may as well be the entire review; it is a lot of things. The album is remarkable, first and foremost, as a sort of bridge that brings older, esoteric collage rock into an (urgh) Ariel Pink-style hypnagogic modernity.
The Residents are still releasing music – they released an album last year and have one scheduled for 2027 – but I’ve never heard them recapture or repurpose their parody hallmarks – for instance, The Third Reich ‘n Roll – like Standing on the Corner II does.
Within the crust of the New York collective’s dark, secretive textures, bygone pop/rock is buried – this feels as though it has the beginnings of an “I bought this old record from a yard sale” Creepypasta. As accidental as the whole Residents thing likely is, Gio Escobar, Jack Nolan and friends do have a plethora of musical knowledge they wish to implement, and a berth of musical fandom they wish to honour.
The 96 Tears-style organ of Evil Man 9, Gimme My Gun’s blues-rocking fever dream, Secrets’ heavily-distorted take on George Harrison guitars. And yes, there is an actual cover of Roll Over Beethoven, not disassembled like Devo’s Satisfaction, but a faithful adaptation that just happens to sound a little dishevelled before its guitar solo fears for its life whilst encircled by blown-out distortion.
Mr. Postman, Wait! contributes to this noteworthy side of SOTC with that title, that organ, and that smooth soul (matched only by Baby Oh! Baby) clashing with the muck, the fuckery, the fuckery muck. You can be like Jay McCarrol and croon it – quite fitting since SOTC is a genderless burger experience of a band.
The album does more than just imply one reviewer’s Residents replica, so much so that it shoehorns an ill-fitting Danny Brown cameo as a sort of anti-climax before Go 2 Sleep Pu$$y signs off with a violin instrumental. Though to provide a quick note concerning the album’s sequencing; there are several versions of it and its tracklist, so it is best read as a mixtape of sorts.
Unless you start reading album reviews in their seventh paragraphs, you may remember me mentioning that the album doesn’t just recapture these Residents-esque motifs, but repurposes, modernly and hypnagogically. The sound of the hypnogogic underground blasts through The Words, where vinyl basses and warmly-chorused guitars gallop around like unicorns bought at the black market.
The album is also politically-conscious, not that that grounds it in the twenty-first century. In fact, Sonia Sanchez reads some poetry on Sonia, and she’s been around almost as long as my nan. Over the bruising, yet tucked-away, raps, pianos and sound effects of Man May Not Last, Escobar reminds any potential target, mainly minorities, that there is someone more powerful than you trying to get rid of you. Doesn’t Mean a Thing is a terrifying takedown with gruesome vocals that appear like voices from shadows – “you can read, you can write, but it doesn’t mean a thing / have a child for a wife and it doesn’t mean a thing” / “drop a bomb on a child”.
Nobody from Standing on the Corner seems to be too bothered by how discordant their music may appear. The collective’s third album is a victory for the mere concept of creativity, for the avant-garde, for retaining freedom and mystique no matter how big you make it. Standing on the Corner II was released by XL Recordings, but it sounds as dug-up as a secretly-released Bandcamp project, and there’s something very beautiful about that.
Best tracks – Mr. Postman, Wait! – Doesn’t Mean a Thing.
Rating – 8 out of 10
