Slime City have already reached legends in their own lunchtime status in their home city, the shitehole that is Glasgow, with their debut album Death Club so it was clearly time to go interstellar and conquer the rest of the music loving public. And what better way to do it than with the release of their new album, National Record of Achievement. I’m too fucking old to have experienced National Records of Achievement, but I’m willing to put my trust in Slime City (is that wise?) that they were a waste of time and energy, labelling them an utterly pointless exercise as they ascertain that nobody will ever ask to see it. Thankfully this National Record of Achievement has the opposite effect as those with any taste in music will be asking for more and will have listeners returning time and again to bask in the glory of the subject matter. The resultant report card for the three Michaels (and The Shoe – who has now been replaced by new band member the Shoetar) is exemplary. The exuberant electro-punk trio shine brightly throughout, with Michael M’s trademark wry humour shining through as ever through the clever lyrical couplets and observations of life that ensue, as if I wasn’t enjoying the songs enough but the new album tracks truly found their place when the band played a jubilant set in the Glasgow School of Art to celebrate its release.
As ever with Slime City, their songs are heavily loaded with cleverly astute tongue in cheek humour while they also tackle some weighty topics, toxic masculinity, global warning, neurodiversity to name a few… add to this their unique high energy electronic sample laden boisterous guitar pop sound (well I say this, but let’s say unique apart from their counterparts from the East, Hens Bens who walk a similar path in seeming reverence to the sound of the City.) From the hook laden title track that opens the album, The Michael’s ensure that those who are willing to take a chance on the band will immediately be caught in their net, and when they played it live, the crowd were putty in the bands hands as they asked what could really be achieved in the “grim space and time between puberty and adult responsibility.” The bar was well and truly set high from the off.
Unlike an actual National Record of Achievement, the songs on this album make you want to return to this record of achievement time and again and will have you singing along, or at least attempting to as you try to remember the lyrics to the likes My Meat Prison is Not Significant, (take a deep breath… my meat prison is considerably less useful that what we crawl towards a technical singularity, my meat prison is not significant) a task mastered by at least one gig goer with whom to and fro banter ensued in the School of Art. Actually, aside from attending gigs like the Slime’s album launch) staying at home listening to this record sounds like the best plan for me…
I must confess
I’m under stress
I just don’t know why I’m feeling everything
And I can’t connect with people
I’m replacing them with facts
I feel seen on You Do the Math(s) including its sly wee dig an the Americanisation of out language. On Trigger the Dads, the band decide to further trigger the flag shagging roundabout painters who have already got their Y fronts in a knot as they seethe over rage bait headlines. While later in the record Michael M makes the case against S*****y and it’s ilk with This Song Costs £2000, a more brilliant takedown I couldn’t think of in terms of how bands are shafted from every angle by the music industry.
Not one note goes to waste and not one word in any of Michael’s lyrics is throwaway, the way his mind works is noting short of genius, take a song like Millennial Pause, and the prowess in lines like “I’m a download stuck at 43%” and then the actual “Bluetooth disconnected” pause, it’s totally batshit crazy but utterly inspired. The first time I listened I genuinely thought I’d lost connection. Then you got the turning a message on it’s head inference on the brilliance of Never Stop Giving Up. I could go on and on extolling the virtues of every song on the album picking them apart and pointing out every little Easter Egg, but that would take your enjoyment away from discovering all of these for yourselves. I genuinely believe the first dozen or so times you listen, you’ll pick up another little gem that only the mind of Michael M could come up with. Just a scan of the song titles gives you an indication that you are in for a treat that you’re not going to get elsewhere, The Mona Lisa Isn’t Even Very Good and the albums closer Lord, Make Me Chaste, But Not Yet.
I highly recommend NOT watching Jools Hollands Annual Hootenanny this Hogmanay, as Slime City won’t be on it. Get a copy of National Record of Achievement on your turntable, CD player or, if you must, your chosen streaming service (“thank you for the 0.00001 pence”) and everyone at your party will start the New Year with a smile on their face
The verdict? A+, gold stars all round, go to the top of the class. Sheer genius from start to finish.