Sex and drugs and rock and roll. Cigarettes and alcohol. The presence of such infamous words in the name of this band conjure up a certain image. As someone who had never before listened to Cigarettes After Sex and knew nothing about the band, I was not ready for what a listen to Cry would involve.
With my lube, hip flask, rizlas, lighter, tourniquet, and pipe quickly returned to the hole under the floorboards, the best way to sum up that listen is as follows.
I have long thought that the most boring job in music was being the drummer in Coldplay. That was until I listened to Cigarettes After Sex.
Like the drummer, I imagine, I wanted little more than to drift off mid-song. Perhaps, as an advocate of sleep after sex rather than cigarettes, this is not surprising.
Which song I fell asleep to I couldn’t tell you. This is because they all sound identical. The vocals are the same, the tempo is the same, the instrumentation is the same, the melodies are the same, the production is the same, the arrangement is the same, the key is the same. Just three songs in to the album I was already struggling to tell the difference between them.
It’s slow, it’s dull, it’s dreary, it goes nowhere and does nothing. It’s unadventurous to the point of laziness. It’s apathetic. It’s inert. It’s music to be asleep to.
The singer’s voice is annoying in tone and intonation. In most people’s voices and accents “it’s” and “stupid” don’t rhyme yet he somehow manages it on ‘Hentai’.
“Of” and “beaches” don’t rhyme either.
This is an at best one song idea that has gone on for far too long. If you’re the sort of person who likes Coldplay then maybe you’ll love this. For all the rest of you right-thinking bastards, be grateful that it was only my time that was wasted. Don’t waste yours. Unless you already happen to be asleep.
Words by James Spearing
Picky Bastards 
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