Family Lacks Musical Force
By David Rose
Issue date: 4/6/06 Section: Focus
Hearken gentle reader, back to a kinder, safer time, before the Twin Towers fell, before the war in Iraq. Remember the glorious summer of 2000 when, recovering from the disappointment of the no-show Millennium bug we listened to an angry red-hatted dwarf who sang about "Nookie?" Ah, those were the days, when bands like Limp Bizkit and POD ruled the airwaves. Didn't you just love them? No? Maybe your taste lies more on the opposite end of the spectrum, in the emo field. Not sure? There's a simple test; do you have any friends? If no, chances are you are a budding emo fan. You wear tight pants and sweep your hair over your eyes so passers-by can't see the terrible pain that afflicts your tormented soul. Sarcasm aside, it was highly unlikely that the jock-rock of rap metal and the angst-pap of Emo would ever mix. Well, maybe the metal fans were beating up the emo fans in parking lots, but aside from that, the concept of rap-e mo was highly unlikely. That was until the introduction of Family Force Five and their album "Business Up Front, Party in the Back."
Family Force Five, who unfortunately are not Uma Thurman's all girl gang from "Pulp Fiction," are the first of what we can only hope is not a new genre. So new in fact that it doesn't have a name, emo-rap maybe, or emap, how about rap-mo? Added to this truly terrible mix of genres is their Avril Lavigne school of spelling. There are no "Sk8er Bois" here but there is plenty of "Cadillac Phunque", "Kountry Gentleman" and Put UR Hands Up. So, in short, these guys are the baddest boys to hit music since Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch rocked middle school gymnasiums.
Leaving the title of the album alone, (I'm sure it was meant to be ironic but just comes off as lame) Family Force Five suffers from the apparent misapprehension that skinny white guys rapping are a cool way to express oneself. I'm sure that Kevin Federline has a certain audience, but I'm almost certain that audience is his Mom. It's hard to tell who Family Force Five is aiming at. Their lyrics are either laughably bad or so angst ridden and irritating, that even the most peaceful of pacifist would threaten them with physical violence. For example, from opening song "Cadillac Phunque," "I give my props to the speak and spell/ it taught me grammar in the A-T-L." (The A-T-L part is sung by a "Speak and Spell," just in case you needed clarification.) Without fear of hyperbole, it is safe to say this is the worst opening song of an album ever. If only they got better, later in the song we are treated to the line "Dreamin' of hearin' my songs on ur stere-ere-o!" Oh dear.
Family Force Five, who unfortunately are not Uma Thurman's all girl gang from "Pulp Fiction," are the first of what we can only hope is not a new genre. So new in fact that it doesn't have a name, emo-rap maybe, or emap, how about rap-mo? Added to this truly terrible mix of genres is their Avril Lavigne school of spelling. There are no "Sk8er Bois" here but there is plenty of "Cadillac Phunque", "Kountry Gentleman" and Put UR Hands Up. So, in short, these guys are the baddest boys to hit music since Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch rocked middle school gymnasiums.
Leaving the title of the album alone, (I'm sure it was meant to be ironic but just comes off as lame) Family Force Five suffers from the apparent misapprehension that skinny white guys rapping are a cool way to express oneself. I'm sure that Kevin Federline has a certain audience, but I'm almost certain that audience is his Mom. It's hard to tell who Family Force Five is aiming at. Their lyrics are either laughably bad or so angst ridden and irritating, that even the most peaceful of pacifist would threaten them with physical violence. For example, from opening song "Cadillac Phunque," "I give my props to the speak and spell/ it taught me grammar in the A-T-L." (The A-T-L part is sung by a "Speak and Spell," just in case you needed clarification.) Without fear of hyperbole, it is safe to say this is the worst opening song of an album ever. If only they got better, later in the song we are treated to the line "Dreamin' of hearin' my songs on ur stere-ere-o!" Oh dear.
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