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3.2 out of 5 stars
3.2 out of 5 stars
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Showing 1-10 of 79 reviews(1 star). Show all reviews
on March 2, 2003
I normally don't write reviews on CD's that I disliked, but I felt that I just had to express my opinion on Puddle of Mudd's 'Come Clean.' I picked it up thinking that it was going to be metal, one of those headthrashing hard core rock CD's that you can listen to everyday, get sick of it for about a month, and then listen to it everyday again. However, I was gravely dissapointed with the painfully slow riffs and the almost absent bass. Wes' voice is irritating at times and can get very tiresome, the drums aren't that great, and some of the songs here sound really terrible. I figured for a long time that maybe the music would grow on me, that although I hate it now does not really mean that I won't like it in the future. Well, I've had it for about four months now, and Come Clean is doing nothing for me now except collecting dust on my CD rack. What's worse about this CD is that it sounds kind of poppy at times, reflecting more of a boy band trying to play guitars rather than real rock. I am not trying to sound offensive or anything, it's just that this was a huge disapointment to me, and I will never listen to this band again willingly. I really thought this was horrible, whiny, and too mellow.
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on January 21, 2003
If you like Collective Soul, you'll probably like this band as well.
That said, this is one of the worst albums released in recent memory, from one of the worst bands to hit the scene since the weak but well-marketed Collective Soul.
A totally synthetic product, this completely unimaginative and depressingly vapid album could have been dreamed up in a corporate boardroom, by marketing experts who wanted to design a generic band that would satisfy the post-grunge need for angst-filled music, driven by cliche seven string guitar power chords and a cliche angry singer who uses every vocal cliche possible. The album is completely devoid of genuine emotion and musical integrity.
This band is to post grunge "alternative" (in the now commonly used, hypocritical sense of the word) music what the band "Poison" was to big-hair metal in the eighties. Unlike Poison, however, I don't think we'll be having a good laugh when we look back at them in fifteen years.
I want to ask people who seem to like this music, what exactly do you like about it?
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on January 20, 2003
Remember when grunge was the escape, when your parents didn't understand, when it wasn't a kind of music, but a state of mind, and when you could smell the teen spirit? Well, I certainly do. However, bands such as Incubus, Creed, and Puddle of Mudd have taken that image and scewed it so much that it's embarrasing to listen to. Creed has no original music, they are a song-for-song copy of Pearl Jam except for that they include christian lyrics in their music. Incubus and Nikelback are Nirvana wannabes, with worse lyrics, ideas, and music in general. And then there is Puddle of Mudd, who have one of the stupidest names I have ever heard, not to mention songs.This album starts off with an unoriginal song called "Control", and it's got Nirvana written all over it with one exception; the lyrics are terrible. It is followed with a sorry excuse for a copy of the song "Come as you are" called drift and die. Next we see a song called Blurry that is one of the only songs the album that doesn't completely copy a Nirvana song, but the feeling is not at all original, we've all heard it from Soundgarden and the Stone Temple Pilots before. Without a doubt the worst song on the album is She hates me, which follows the tune base of Nirvana's timeless song "Lithium" except for that the lyrics to Lithium, which are probably the best ever, are changed to sort of satiric break-up words, a disgrace to grunge. Go and buy Nirvana's "Nevermind" if you want really, original music, real, original lyrics, real grunge.
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on September 28, 2002
nothing special here. I don't get why people continue to listen to the same grunge over and over and over that came out over a decade ago. This crap is no different than Nirvana, STP or Smashing Pumpkins. I guess I was the moron who thought that music would countinue to evolve and change, like it did up until grunge hit. I think that the kids are rebellious, and therefore they need to listen to something hard, but since many are girls, it can't be too hard, so it gets tuned down a notch and always ends up sounding like this pathetic wannabe band. There's so many of them like this on the radio nowadays. How do you tell them apart? It used to be so easy: Michael Jackson, the Police, Madonna, each so different. Now record companies are just trying to churn out the next puddle of crap band so they can get the same mediocre sales that this form of music is now accustomed to getting. Disappointing to see art become so commercialized and robotic isn't it? By the way, when you're 15-18, this vomit called music the kids listen to isn't commercialized and robotic because it's "cool". If it wasn't "cool" then everyone would be negative about it. If some 50% of people listening think it's "cool" then woe to you if you happen to have an opinion. Just food for thought, in case you thought this band contained cerebellum. NOT!
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on August 8, 2002
One good track isn't enough to save an album. The first time I heard "Control" on the radio, I thought oh, here's another band that sounds just like Fuel, only not as good. Wes' voice is very similar to Brent (from Fuel). And the music is like Staind, but without as talented an aranger as Mike Mushok. Back in the day, "alternative" music took talent--STP were and still are awesome musicians. Nirvana and now the Foo Fighters wrote some awesome songs and performed them brilliantly. Even Staind (of whom I am not a fan) are better than these guys, and I give Staind more respect right off the bat, because Staind paid their dues, Puddle of Mudd got their big break with this craptacular debut and that was it. If you like Nickelback, Default, Fuel, Injected, Greenwheel, Staind, Nirvana, STP, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains, Seven Mary Three, even Creed, for the love of all that is important to you, find someone else! I love STP, Creed, Fuel, etc., but Puddle of Mudd took no-frills rock 'n' roll, corporatized it, and released this. This sounds exactly like Bush--prefabricated, weakly worded, nothing new.
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on August 28, 2001
First of all, listen to the sound clips on this page. If they sound good to you, you obviously haven't heard enough music in general. If they sound like 90 other bands you just heard on the radio, you're getting warmer. If you're wondering why this album is already a "bestseller", here's a hint. I read an article about this band's record label offering prizes for the fan who can illegally stuff the ballot the most times for the single on MTV's video request show TRL. They even give instructions on how to get around the site's security measures! It makes sense, since the only way to differentiate between this band and a hundred others is if you know what they look like. The music itself is completely anonymous garbage. Does anyone remember the 80's Glam-rock explosion? This is the same type of thing. You could call this band the Enuff Z'nuff of 2001. Take your pick. It's an imitation of an imitation, all packaged and preened by the great pretender himself: Fred Durst. This record contains the same boring bulls**t being played on radio stations all across the country. Vedder-like vocals (faking a sincere voice: ironic, no?), overprocessed guitars and a general "oh, poor me" attitude. Are you going to let a record label executive tell you what's good? Why not seek out good music for yourself and let MTV spoon feed the garbage they spew to someone else. In five years or so everyone's going to be giggling about these bands, and the used CD rack at your local store is going to be choked with monochromatic, unoriginal tripe.
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on January 19, 2003
hey kids, remember grunge? remember how itchy those flannel shirts were, and how the big words in dem there lyrics made it hard to bench along with? well, trade all that junk for steroids, cause grunge is back! and it's better! we've taken out all that "substance" and all that homocentric artsy garbage and refined it through our best corporate heads. for instance, we've lowered the grease in hair levels to a perfect amount. we've also changed those tough, heartfelt lyrics. "I'll eat your cancer when you turn black?" what in god's bleu cheese does that mean? "she f-ing hates me, la la la!" now that's accessible! so come join in, we've got all kinds of product! like your grunge with a little pro-tools? try lincoln pork! like your grunge clean and godlike (cleanliness = godliness, afterall)? try some creed! we've got product, oops, i mean music, for everyone! join in! or you're not american! dubyah says so!
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on November 2, 2003
Yo peepz, how ya'll tonite??? This is yet anotha blockbuster produced by the musical genius that is Fred Durst!! That tells you right there it has to be good....well that and the fact that Carson Daly plays these toons all the time on TRL!! Its just too bad weird bands like Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice In Chains, Tad, Mudhoney and Stone Temple Pilots have to copy Puddle Of Mudd's music, lyrics, vocal patterns and clothing statements!! Flannel and greasy hair forever dude!! But fear not Mudd fanatics, do u ever see any of those other joke grunge bands on TRL?? Hekk no, they don't have the charm or talent that these guys do!! I would have given this more stars but at the end of the song "Control" Wes says some dirty things and thats not good for young ears and minds like my serious stars were taken away for that. But still buy and support tha mudd!!! Peace out...
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I guess the worst kept, dirty secret is out already, even though indiscriminate, braindead sheep keep buying their trademark-infringing music. What these impersonators planned to do, at the time of their 1st cd's recording, was listen to as much Nevermind and In Utero as they possibly could-so that their thinking was synonymous with Nirvana's sound-to create a cd that, note for note; chord for chord; lyric for lyric; tries to EXACTLY reproduce the Nirvana catalog. The singer, uhhm, what's his name again???? It's Wesley Reid Scato...Wesley Reid Scatological. Whoops, I meant to write Wesley Reid Skanklin, which, by the way, sounds like a cliché character name for an outlaw from the old west. If you were blind, you would be fooled that Kurt Cobain came back from the dead and started singing with this new loser band called Puddle of Mudd from a Midwestern farming commune.
It's just way too heinous of a coincidence that Skanklin's voice "resembles" Cobain's. From every final, lowest, foggy intonation, one can stunningly discover that Skanklin's voice-was most likely plottingly connived on by numerous record company execs to imitatively sound EXACTLY like Cobain's-matches Cobain's in EVERY pitch, warble and shift!!!! In another, similar sense, it's almost abjectly surreal that you could have such infernal symmetry between a poser-whore dictated by his corporate, record executive masters and the originator Cobain, that the only remaining, blatant common sense which guides is that Puddle of Mudd and their impersonating singer were planned to precisely duplicate Nirvana's whole appearance, whether it be their sound or their singer. You cannot-even if you tried your worst-just by accident, sound like a guy who must have been used as the blueprint for every single cover band, from Creed to Staind, to imitate. His vocal "delivery" is willfully meant to match Kurt Cobain's, so much so that he must have listened to NOTHING but the two Nirvana cd's before recording the squalor that 'Come Clean' is! Reason being is record companies gloat that they have the formula to snare unwary teens to their imposter, cover band, corporate inventions by abusing Cobain's model from 10 years ago. I look at people who brainwash themselves that Puddle of Mudd (ever the infamous prostitute of their record company masters' additional scheme to impersonate being "cool" with all the repulsively dislikeable teen-idiots, misallocating the third word in their insincerely marketed name to be misspelled, probably strategizing to pirate even from the fabricated gimmick of another blight-on-society's endorsement of illiteracy through stupid ebonics, rap) is cutting-edge, with the same mix of disparagement and sympathy that a reasonable, unbiased person would looking at a racist.
Something that also, again burdensomely, persecutes me is that Puddle of Mudd's lyrics-the disparagingly remnant waste that's passed off as lyrics after their flimsy fluff disguised as lyrics is scrutinized-misappropriate some of the most degradingly impure of sexual suggestiveness!!!! Clearly, Puddle of Mudd was from the start severely impaired with original content for their lyrics, so they were pressured to exploit what their record company masters assumed as popular among the degenerates known as youth and teenagers!!!! That, of course, is amorally the fixation on sex and profanity to sell marketed crap like this cd!!!! Examine how ghastly blasphemous their lyrics are for Control, and, miserably of course, their notoriously misused song, the "eloquent" She FU$%EN Hates Me, to bait punk youths' misdirected obsession with swearing. In Control, Skanklin, the group's pseudo-singer, prostitute of the record company's marketing tactic, lewdly and gloatingly sings about ass-smacking, getting his own scrawny ass smacked by women in a sickly unhealthy take on getting aroused through violence-which is a mentality disease, incidentally-and sexually dominating women in a way akin to dungeon masters and sadists!!!! In She FU*#EN Hates Me, Skanklin "croons" over tiresomely recycled clichés about his contraband girlfriend "breaking his heart" while he sacrilegiously and abominably gloats over screaming the four-letter F-word expletive a thousand times over!!!! Bleakly, for the rest of society, this coarsely unsanitary maltreatment of what music is is regrettably pillaged onto the stupidly impressionable punk teens as something degradedly "cool". The youth are aggressively and menacingly flocking to this debauched misguidance of what's acceptable in society, because they gloomily fail having any better teaching from parents!!!!
As for their actual product of musicianship-it's not very encouraging, to say in the least. Their songs, which are ALL empty Nirvana clones, don't have any passionate or sonic "meat" in them. There are NO, even half-decent, guitar solos (they don't even go through the effort of producing any solos); Skanklin's "singing", which is used VERY loosely, is like an Arnold Schwarzenegger monotone of only the same, dead range; and their guitar effects are wickedly tame. There is virtually NO feedback, no shredding; it seems like their wimp guitars have yet to be taught that there is such a thing as raising their ampage. The mistreatment in which the guitarist plays lead is totally reprehensible; he rejects composing anything complex or substantial-sounding, instead sinfully backsliding to the weakest, pop-like chords ever!!!! Let's switch to their relentlessly hollow themes for their lyrics that have been used SO many times by better bands in the past, they lose ANY miniscule shred of credibility. This Skanklin and gang crew must be real MIT, post-graduate geniuses to recycle songs having to do with being fed up with a girlfriend, whimpering about not seeing your kid in a while (sniff, sniff; sob, sob), and dishonorably G-E-N-E-R-I-C topics about dying and mortality, that Alice In Chains had the market cornered on, so many years earlier.
I'm striving to warn people that I would punish this CD with a NEGATIVE INFINITY rating, if so allowed. Since these corporate-manhandled posers are preying on the Seattle business plan, which soulless companies are force feeding on a younger, more inexperienced "kid" crowd, it's time to be efficient. If you're even considering this quack attempt at good music, ask for God's forgiveness and patronize Seattle groups instead.
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on October 5, 2003
With an ingenious, multi-layered pun as album title, Puddle of Mudd (formerly known as Prepuce Moderne and originally hailing from the slums of Ouro Preto) has come a long way in this, its sophomore effort. They are indeed Coming into their own, so to speak, in an omphaloskepsis of onanism. And they are as Clean as a tabula rasa, upon which their corporate masters may write as they please.
But this is not necessarily a bad thing: As Marcus Delacour once noted, "Wir schaufeln ein Grab in den Lueften da liegt man nicht eng." Given such a subrogation, PoM has a clear duty to retreat in the face of such privileged communication. But here we are faced with so trychocystal a rogation, so soroptical an urceolate, that we have no recourse to standard "Uberscheissverheilenlicht" defenses. We must manumit our proceedings entirely unaided by any known felicific calculi.
Quite simply put, this album is a masterpiece of multinucleolated mycelia worthy of the young Claude Taylor, before he degenerated into an epigonoidal senescence redolent of the middle-period works of Nestor Kalandrakis.
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