We first heard Purple Duck whoring himself with the evil and wrong rap stylings of Suicidal Rap Orgy, and somehow we knew he deserved better. On his debut solo album he’s thrown everything but the kitchen sink at it, and most of it sticks. But then it slides off at funny angles and it’s impossible not to laugh maniacally then be charmed by the insanity and creative dexterity of the duck-man. It feels like a comedy album, with a couple of skits such as Cunt Dracula, who is a nasty insensitive piece of work (even for a vampire) and Sex Falcon which is about a falcon that terrifies townsfolk by penetrating them and then dropping them off a mountain two hours away. Yes I know it’s juvenile but it doesn’t stop it being funny. And it’s part of the charm of Purple Duck who uses hip hop, funk, house, indie folk, blues and electro pop to get his light humorous messages across. Despite his dexterity it’s impossible to dislodge the notion that he’s taking the piss out of the listener, possibly because the humor tends to overcompensate the soul of the music. That is except for When a Women Cries where the Duck adopts a Flaming Lips vocal style though almost seems to ruin the emotional sincerity by adding a catchy electro groove. Then there’s Bored, where The Duck describes how bored he is, demonstrating a remarkable ability to creatively curse and an almost implausible vocal dexterity. Duckside of the Moon is the antidote to the polished production and vacant content of most current day albums, and as a result should be encouraged.
Bob Baker Fish