Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
Every second of a Freshkills song feels touchy.
It's fire and flint. Playing with both, curiously speculating about just when all hell is going to break loose.
There's a consideration to make here though: maybe all hell has already broken loose and we've just not been informed.
It feels like everyone is suffering from some sort of anxiety problem or another. They might even be contagious, giving their panic to as many people as will take it. They're skeptical and they're lippy. They're sarcastic and downtrodden - all while fighting the symptoms as best as they can. They deal with their disjointed and slippery thoughts and they talk back in a cocky aside that's slightly snarly.
The band's songs are much like send-ups or parodies of the various ways that people twist and turn themselves into the kinds of knots that they're not able to un-twist or reverse. They are send-ups to just how neurotic and serious most people take their lives instead of just giving up - in a good way - and letting the waves, the exhaust fumes and the shit crash down wherever they're going to crash down. These songs are about getting kicked around or ignored.
Lead singer Zachary Lipez sings, "What kind of god would stand for this/Take a simple man/Knock his dick in the dirt/What kind of god would stand for this/You like the sound of trying/Well, here's some trying," here and it's impossible to miss the sarcasm. It's also quite right to pick up on the deeper issue of most shit just not seeming fair. It comes up a lot here. Fat comedians do what they do and die and everyone else just braces themselves for the next knockdown, chipped tooth, busted fucking lip and insult.