Now,
part of my job involves being brutally honest about the
bad points of an artist's music and sometimes that's no
easy task.
Eat At Whitey's is very easy to criticize.
In
three words I will convey exactly how I feel about this
album: I HATE IT. No offense Everlast, but I have never
supported your career outside of the "Jump Around"
years with House of Pain. Perhaps I am getting too critical
in my old age (19 soon...)
There
is not one song on this CD that holds my attention or
presents me with an idea of artistic growth since his
first attempt at dabbling with the "tortured singer-songwriter"
concept. All of the lyrics are very self absorbed, making
random attempts at poetic devices, but falling short of
wit, like in the song Black Coffee ("She smelled
like flowers, she tastes like toffee/She kissed me slowly,
she held me softly." (uhhhhh, okay buddy, how sentimental...),
or I might just really dislike the idea that everyone's
continuing to hop on the rap-rock bandwagon. Well let
me be the guy to say, "You're too old for this crap!"
The lyrics could really use a shot of viagra to strengthen
their flaccid nature! I kid you not, everything sounds
the same! I can't stand his mono-tone, gravely-voiced,
yowling or Everlast's uncanny ability to kill any form
of contrast in his tunes. I would rather listen to Tiny
Tim sing AC/DC hits while choking on glass, then have
to sit through another Everlast single. Even though he
does makes a valid effort to go the Carlos Santana Supernatural
route and fill up the album with name brand guest appearences
from such artist's as Carlos himself, B-Real, N'Dea Davenport,
Rahzel and even an obscure cameo from one of my favourite
slide guitar players Warren Haynes; nothing is able to
save Eat At Whitey's from eventually closing down. I've
tried the food here and it really sucks.
Review
by Zack Salsberg, 2001
