There is nothing worse than an artist”s shameless self-promotion and celebration of a fundamentally terrible product. Some infamous yet memorable abusers of the system include Vanilla Ice in hardcore mode, Puff Daddy and every boy band in history. Unfortunately, Brassy”s Got It Made revels in this immodest tactic by indulging listeners in the kind of unabashed self-adulation that only makes an already bad record even worse.
Got It Made opens with a strange, techno-infused interlude of warped, synthesized trash, partnered with excessive record scratching, reminiscent of DJ Skribble and the whole MTV dance party groove crew. The interlude gives way to the first song of the record, entitled “No Competition.” Throughout the entire song the lead singer, whose voice is comparable to Chrissie Hynde on crack, repeats “B-R-A-to the double S-Y” over and over. It is almost enough to incite violence and/or epileptic seizures in the unfortunate victims of its droning. And just when it seems that it couldn”t get worse, “No Competition” drones on for about three more minutes, setting the stage for the next 16 atrocities on the CD.
The crowning moment of Got It Made comes rather early on, in the form of a spoken answering machine piece of junk called “L vs. S.” For those of you who couldn”t decipher that one, “L” and “S” stand for “Laverne” and “Shirley,” of the popular “70s television show, “Laverne and Shirley.” Why Brassy feels the need to pay tribute to them is unknown what is known, however, is that their answering machine homage to this choice television masterpiece would certainly embarrass Penny Marshall and Cindy Williams, and in turn, probably everyone else who hears it.
Brassy further expands upon their “why everyone should think they”re cool” rhetoric with the blatantly narcissistic songs “I Gotta Beef,” “Who Stole the Show” and “B”Cos We Rock.” They also continually refer to the “Brassy way” of doing things, and the familiar “B-R-A-to the double S-Y” manifests itself many more times throughout the record. The final jam of the disc, is entitled “B.R.A.S.S.Y.” and it consists solely of that dreaded chant looped continuously over a background of Europop techno-trash.
At that point, the seizures begin again.
“B”Cos We Rock” proves to be simply humiliating. Brassy repeatedly attempts to convince listeners of their all-encompassing coolness factor, which is a shame because, yeah about you guys rocking? There seems to be a serious misunderstanding
If Brassy seriously thinks that they “got it made” by releasing insolent tripe like this record, it is unthinkable what might result if they knew they sucked it”s probably better this way. Brassy can continuously reassure themselves of their artistic merit, yet meanwhile, another conclusion has already been made: B-R-A-double S-Y is C-R-A-double P-Y.