Music reviews. CD reviews. Critically hip!

For some reason, while trying to listen to Custom, I got the idea to write this review by parodying Van Morrison's "Gloria." It actually came out half decently, but I ultimately decided that I could sum it up with the lines "and this disc is B--O--R--I--Nnnnnnn/B-O-R-I-N-G/Borrrinng!"

 Oh yes. Custom is the latest in a long line of poseurs from the Love and Rockets school of vocalization, sounding somewhat like Richard Butler (without that gentleman's chops) doing a mirror star imitation of Trent Reznor. Whereas Reznor lends an edge of menace to his work, however, Custom is as menacing as your little brother's poofter buddy with a can of Whippet clutched in his gloved hand. While Custom's lyrics are somewhat scatological ("Beat Me," "Hey Mister," "Morning Spank") he just doesn't have what it takes to hold interest. It's a race to see whether you'll fall asleep or laugh your ass off. You'll probably laugh yourself to sleep. At least 2-Live Crew, lousy as they were, knew it; you could hear them laughing at themselves. Custom has no such insight. While much ado was made of MTV's banning of "Hey Mister" due to the video content, they actually did ol' Cus a favor. Nobody would have heard of, or cared about this sniggering, affected crap otherwise. Picture Beck fronting Nine Inch Nails and you'll get an idea of "Beat Me." It doesn't work. Neither does the rest of this thing.

."Beat Me"? I'm sure somebody will. This guy is almost as obnoxious as Carrothead, or whatever that guy's name is. If Custom decides to chuck the music career he can still make a living doing 1-800- commercials, or selling 7-Up. Custom goes into the skeet pile. Pull!