Black Market Crash

Broken Ballads (2004)

Jordan Rogowski

Through the past few years, I have determined that online auction giant ebay is in fact the new Black Market. Think about it: Can you name something, illegal or not, that cannot be purchased on eBay? Every album ever recorded, done. Babe Ruth autographed rookie card, done. Paris Hilton's pubic hair, done. No longer do you have to deal with shady types face to face; you can deal with these shady types through instant message and email, then sue them if they don't actually send you that piece of French toast Lance Bass took a bite out of that you ordered. It's that simple.

The beauty of it all, is that the black market, unlike our own stock market in 1929, cannot crash. You'll still be able to buy guns without licenses and trade Cambodian orphans, or Black Market Crash's 2004 excursion into the world of ska-punk, Broken Ballads, though, on the album cover, it's obnoxiously spelled with a broken upper case ‘O.' Also, in the press sheet their label felt it necessary to spell the words ska pUnK and pUnK rOCk like 11-year-old girls getting ready for a Jessica Simpson concert. Note to all press agencies and record labels: Typing like you're 11 will make me conclude that your bands are in fact, 11, and subsequently be much harsher on them. Moving on, the album itself is a 30-minute blast that's mostly fun, but had trouble holding my attention at times.

There's always been something equal parts fun and annoying about ska-punk. Bands like Less Than Jake have always exuded a real fun quality about themselves, making their records easy to listen to, but Black Market Crash can be difficult at times, at least moreso than is necessary. It could be the vocals that my problem mainly lies with, while the group singalongs are a good blast of fun, the vocalist's voice grows somewhat tiresome about halfway through the album. Their vocalist almost sounds like he'd be better suited in an old-school hardcore band, not a ska-punk outfit who should be singing about Scott Farcas taking it on the chin.

The guitarists have sound heads on their shoulders, as the closing of "Alien" would attest to, but far too often are they relegated to playing simple four-chord anthems rather than exploring what talents they could improve this album with. "Pyro Girl" opens with the most unnecessary acoustic intro I've ever heard, as the electric work kicks in within 15 seconds, just making the acoustic playing feel plain out of place. Nowhere else on the record does a specific song stick out above the rest, and I suppose that's a major flaw to be found here, in how bland the album as a whole is. Bits and pieces hint at greater possibilities, but the finished product doesn't display supposed potential, only the effort that the band did actually put into this collection of 15 songs. More could have been done.

This could be a fun record for a lot of people, but on the whole I find it to be more lacking than showing what it could bring to the table. Some good choruses, interesting riffs, and other elements that just never materialize into something better is what you'll find here. They say that variation is the spice of life, so these guys may want to hit the rack before recording again.