Bobby Conn, King for a Day

Bobby Conn’s latest record, King for a Day, satirizes movie stars, musicians and other celebrities amid so-bad-it’s-good commercial radio production. Conn uses every cliché of ’70s and ’80s pop radio that you can imagine, cramming in so much crap that the songs almost implode. Even still, however, the songs themselves are perversely catchy, and they make you listen anyway, despite your misgivings (which are many, trust me).

The pretension begins with the eight-minute opening track, “Veritas” — it starts with Middle Eastern-sounding violin that goes on and on and on, then goes to a guitar solo that’s epic in its wankiness, and then a big chorus that’s in Latin, no less. “Love Let Me Down” and “Twenty-One,” on the other hand, take on Steely Dan-style pop affectation. And what goes perfectly with Steely Dan bombast? Why, hair-metal bombast, of course, as on “Sinking Ship” and “(I’m Through With) My Ego.” Throughout the record, you get the feeling that Conn said “yes!” to every bad idea he had, as excess piles upon excess.

The subjects of his songs are as impaired as the production values. The subject of “Love Let Me Down” has slept with so many women that he can’t remember the name of the one he’s with but is deluded enough to announce that he still believes that “Love won’t let me down.” Conn takes on Tom Cruise and Scientology in two songs, “Punch the Sky!” and “Anybody” — in “Punch the Sky,” the Scientologist narrator declares, “Think about it — isn’t it weird that we know so much about dinosaurs?… And this is explained by, what, a bunch of bones in the ground? Maybe we know so much about dinosaurs because some of us remember the dinosaurs, because we’re 70 million years old…” No, maybe it’s because some of us can think! On the other hand, “King for a Day” sounds like a great rock-star parody, and it’s straight from Bobby Conn’s own life. So maybe for celebrities, this is all more true than we all think. Frightening, huh?

The album may be the most perfect match of music to content that I’ve ever heard. And the content’s there too — some of this stuff is strong enough to be on real commercial radio stations, rather than only on the ones in Bobby Conn’s head. This album is definitely worth checking out. (Although I’d recommend bringing a HAZMAT suit; otherwise the reeking stench of grandiose pomposity may never leave you.)