Soy Unchained

"We are the future of rock but due to endless bad luck we're in ruins." That's the grim news from the Liquid Tapedeck's Peter Etc. (or Math Jokes a/k/a Soy Bomb—I can't tell which). It's dismaying, because Fast Forward Flood and Tapedeck Rejects and Bad Demos both easily bear the weight of the five listens recommended by the band. And I'd buy one new T-deck every year, if only for their skillfully unfastened rants, the likes of which never accompanied records in the '70s. The Tapedeck rockers are annoyed that music journalism is obsessed with only a few favorites, who are jabbered about until dyspepsia occurs. They believe this to be evidence of a conspiracy of dunces.

Once you're past the pugnacious gay porn inside the cover of FFF, the New York-timely "Kill a Newspaper Editor" strikes hard; it's something the Poynter Institute's pollsters could not help but like. "Getting Stoned With Mary Timony" is the best Steve Howe (or is it Fred Frith?) rip ever, and the affection for Yes is continued in the thud and fuzz of "Grindcore—the Hits," a metal troll's rendition of "Owner of a Lonely Heart," among other things.

Skipping to Rejects and Bad Demos, "May I Have Your Hand Rachel Trachtenburg" is a stop-and-start classic rocker that apprised me of a mincingly cute drummer better heard about than heard. And "Ozzy Broke His Legs in a Skiing Accident" is an admirable fiction everyone could support.

While it may seem unbelievable, "Run Thru the Wind With Your Hands on My Timmy Tim Tim" also makes clear that the Tapedeck are masters of the pop vignette's vignette—do not think for an instant that they're Anal Cunt. Still, one can't even mention the name of the Liquid Tapedeck's most inflammatory number. Doing so would bring the wrath of the Secret Service upon the band.

Soundcakes International, 63 Pitt Street, 5F, New York, NY 10002; thetapedeck.com.