Rather than use more natural sounds like didgeridoos or bongos or flutes, Bonini uses rather synthetic sounding synthesizers, which unfortunately give his tracks an initial air of elevator music rather than interesting downtempo. Yet again, it’s not terrible, and after a few minutes of listening, you can obviously tell a lot more work went into producing these songs than is first noticeable, there are those first few seconds where you have to endure the cheap feeling before you get to the much meatier core.

“Liphop” is the third track on the disc, and brings to mind pictures of someone taking a drive along the coast on a Sunday evening at sunset. Top down, and just relaxing, you can just picture the beaches rushing by you at a decent clip while you just enjoy living. It’s quite relaxing and even poetic at points when punctuated by the short guitar riffs here and there. It just feels right.

I’m not really sure what to say about “Unbroken”. Expecting it to be a bit darker than some of the other tracks, just by looking at its name, I really wasn’t prepared for the near-heavy metal distortion that he uses on the synthesizer at the very opening. At first I was a bit confused, and started to wonder if this track was included mistakenly, but through the song, you can (barely) hear hints of what could have been an ambient song in a previous life time. I was actually disappointed with this song; leaving the distortion and smashing cymbals out of it could have resulted in something amazing, but instead you’re left with something that is a cross between nap time and mosh time. Unfortunate.

Whenever I listen to music, I try to picture what kind of scene in a movie it could potentially be the soundtrack to. “Brand New Day” defies its own title and rather than remind me of waking up in the morning, actually takes me to the feeling I’ve had after a great night of partying. A night where I’ve danced for hours and just had a blast, when it’s time to start the journey home from where ever it is I am, I like to just relax and take stock of my life, and go over the night’s festivities in my head. This would be the perfect song to underscore that “cooling off” with.

When I Grow Up obviously has a lot of promise; Bonini has the talent to make great music that you can completely immerse yourself in. Whether it’s waking up to “Nervious” [sic] or doing yoga to “Dizzy”, it’s quite easy to lose track of the time and just relax, something everyone could do with a little more of. This album isn’t for everyone, but if you’re looking for a CD to enjoy while you take a few minutes to yourself, When I Grow Up would be a great choice.

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This is all made even more amazing when you realize that the three members have never even met.

“What the hell are you talking about, Justin,” I can hear you asking your lifeless computer monitor. That’s right, the three bandmates have never shared a stage, or a green room, or even a pizza. Brought together through a subforum of the Something Awful website, they have collaborated on two albums with only the internet as their communication medium. They each record a part (like a drum track or guitar riff), send it to the other, where the other member would lay down another track (like a vocal or bass line) and then pass it along to the final member who would do the same. After everything was all said and done, they’d mix and master it together in the same way. It’s really amazing when you think about how much extra work would be required for something like this, but they pulled it off brilliantly. [Editor's Note: Their story is quite aptly described on track 15: "The Old Timey Legend of Stabilizer"]

The second track on the sophomore called “Needless” features singer Emily Rose whose voice reminds me of Sarah McLachlan at times (this is definitely a good thing). She sings about her own confusion about her perceived individuality, and whether she should grow up and end the “needless rebellion” that she’s been putting people through. It is almost a “coming of age” message, where young adult becomes adult, and realizes that trying to do the polar opposite of everything society says you should isn’t going to further any cause you might be fighting for. Really beautiful song.

“We, Conquistadors” which features label mate Captain Dan should really have been left off the disc. Up until now, there’s been 9 songs of at least minimal seriousness, and then they have to go and destroy the credibility they’ve had up until now with a gimmick. A really trashy gimmick. Those of you who have read any of my reviews know that gimmicks rate just above having red hot nails being shot into my feet from point blank range, and “the pirate rapper” is no exception. Sure, some of these gimmicks are attempts at “lightening the mood during such serious times in life” or are “just fun and games” but we’re each entitled to our own opinions, and mine is that if I want to laugh, I’ll go watch some standup. Or if you must include stuff like this, leave it for an interlude.

“Inside a Prayer”, the album’s only completely acoustic song, is another blissfully melodic piece that tugs at your heart strings at every corner. Simply a vocalist with his guitar (both vocals and guitar are by Siegert), the song strays quite far off the beaten path, even for Stabilizer, yet they manage to knock it out of the park, proving that there is no genre they can’t attack, no style they can’t master.

All in all, A Fuse Slowly Burning is a great disc with only a few moments that I was less than excited about. They are experimental, they are expressive, but most of all, they are entertaining. Bringing together just the perfect bits and pieces from many different kinds of music, they’re able to blend them all together into a form that has something for everyone. They combine musical experience with incredible lyric writing to create 22 listenable songs that absolutely destroy their last release, and shows that a little effort can go a long way.

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After attempting to force myself to listen to just one full song (and failing), I feel compelled to mention that if you listen closely enough, you can make out some sort of melody in the background, however between the cheesy dinosaur growl samples and the sound quality rivaling that of most 8-track players, it’s all pretty much lost in the ether. They seem to have to gone to great lengths to ensure that future generations will respond to questions about Vulcanodon with a simple “who or what in the god damned fuck are you talking about?”

Tar Pit is yet another failed “concept album” that I can add to my list of failed artists who think that being gimmicky (“hyuk hyuk we make dinosaur rock ya get it hyuk hyuk”) instantly means being funny. I’m not sure where these people seem to come from, or where this idea comes from, but I have a feeling it involves a lighter, a basement, and a “tobacco” pipe. Sure, making funny music might be fun, and if that’s the case, don’t let me stop you; in fact please continue to play – as long as it’s in your parents’ garage, away from me. If it’s an inside joke that only you and the bassist will ever understand, for the love of Christ, keep it that way. Stay after practice and hit the snare drum with a waffle cone, while the singer screams on and on about how he wanted a half-caf double-sweet mocha and not the other way around, but please don’t waste my time with your crap. You can’t honestly tell me you didn’t know it was garbage from the start, can you?

After writing this much, I figured it was only fair to give it one more listen. Perhaps I was being too hard on Vulcanodon; perhaps there was really something underneath it all that I had missed the first go round. Unfortunately, there wasn’t. It was still the same screaming (?), guitars which seem to have 30 or more distortion pedals connected to them, and a presence that would seem more at home as the background music to the reveal scene in a horror movie. There’s little to no substance here, and where there’s substance, there’s still no structure.

My recommendation? If you really want to listen to Tar Pit, consider jumping in one first – it would probably hurt less.

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