Two Months Late

King For A Day » Bobby Conn

Website: http://www.bobbyconn.com/ || Running Time: 52:00 || Label: Thrilljockey

Bobby Conn used to fancy himself the Anti-Christ. He ended the charade after the 2000 election, apparently realizing it's no fun to play at evil when there are real false prophets and deceivers running the country. His last album -- 2004's Homeland -- mocked and satirized Bush's America with genre-hopping indie rock. His new album King For A Day is lighter fare: instead of the Washington Post he turns to US! Weekly, and uses the fantasy world of his dreams, rather than the nightmare of reality, for inspiration.

An attempt at rock opera(though absent any real narrative, the album is the soundtrack to a planned companion movie), the record delves into the cult of celebrity and the power of delusion. With nary a heavy, depressing issue in sight Conn is free to channel Freddie Mercury and David Bowie and create some dramatic soundscapes and witty pop songs. Backed by most of his old band The Glass Gypsies, Conn touches on glam rock, psychedelia, a little disco and pop filtered through experimental indie rock.

The album opens with an eight minute instrumental(something the Anti-Christ might do, I grant you), "Vanitas". Sparse acoustic guitars and lonely drums join an ominous Latin chorus -- ominous being the token role for dead languages -- before an onslaught of electric guitars and violins hits. The pyrotechnics feel cathartic, clearing away the dreariness of past records and current times for truly diversionary material.

The lazy, dreamy title track "King For A Day" sails right along through Conn's night job of worshiped, entourage toting rock star whose toes are sucked by adoring European fans before crashing under hammered power chords, pounding drumming and the realization he still has to be back at his day job Monday morning.

Which raises the obvious question, what kind of day job could a man who dresses like Eddie Izzard and gets shrimped in the basements of English rock clubs possibly have? I imagine him fronting the revived Queen instead of Paul Rodgers, not backing a Dell workstation. "Love Let Me Down", a hazy look at love from a star's stage, could find a place on Jazz. "Twenty One" delves into some disco pop, though Conn's falsetto sounds disturbingly like the creepy senior-citizen pedophile from Family Guy. On "(I'm Through With) My Ego" he delivers an over the top, lounge worthy vocal performance.

You never know where he'll go next, and he mixes it up with mesmerizing instrumentals: the mystical, marching "A Glimpse Of Paradise" and the frantic, driven "Sinking Ship". You know those moments when everything clicks and a note or a voice resonates with something in you and that oh hell yes feeling takes over? "Mr. Lucky" has one, now a favorite of mine. After Monica BouBou's soft voice fades out at the three minute mark, Conn belts out a passionate, swaggering "I wanna live!" over a blazing blues-rock guitar. And if I told you it was a time-traveling Mick Jagger, you would believe me.

Bobby Conn may tire being socially conscious, but he never tires of putting out original, great sounding records.

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