ARC051: The Vichy Government - Whores In Taxis
2004 was a funny old year, Des. Record companies came and went; a handful even remained financially solvent for long enough to facilitate the release of 'Carrion Camping', but were unable to keep a straight face when contemplating the likelihood of its release. No stone was left unturned; the album was re-recorded in the style of the Wonder Stuff and promos attributed to The Urchins, four angular pickpockets from Whitechapel. To aid the cause, Andrew even nurtured a full-blown heroin addiction; but to no avail.The Vichy Government were thus compelled to look beyond pop music to find outlets for our creative impulses. Andrew established an organic mink farm in Highgate, and Jamie set up his own private dental clinic under the railway arches in Hackney Downs. However, at this time of goodwill to all men, Vichy have joined forces once more to present the diffident second album, 'Whores In Taxis'.
The sessions for this album were fraught with tension, characterised by chaos throughout and ran astronomically beyond budget. Mr. Andrew Chilton presided over the production. Engineering duties were fulfilled by Miss Susan Thorkmorkington. George Martin sodomised five-year-olds over the mixing desk, Trevor Horn sodomised Jamie in the vocal booth, Steve Albini snorted cocaine from the thighs of Martin Rushent, Giorgio Moroder ordered pizzas for Bloc Party's studio, Brian Wilson merely shat himself and Todd Rundgren was the tea boy. Somehow, from this mindless carnage a tracklisting slowly emerged, which is as follows:
Tracklisting:
1. 27/4/76
2. How To Become A Cult Figure
3. The Immortals
4. The Loneliest Man In Ancient Rome
5. Serbian Warlord
6. Oliver Cromwell In Weimar Berlin
7. The Male Gaze
8. Mickey Mouse
9. Life Should Mean Life
10. Your Dinner Is On Page 22
Angular is...
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Angular Elsewhere
Artist: The Vichy Government
As to brief band biography/background/profile, I've been doling out this crap for six years and I really can't be bothered. Write your own fucking review. I couldn't care less whether you listen to the thing or not. Just bang your head on the typewriter til you have your 500 characters, then submit that. I guarantee you'll have made much more sense than any other music journalist has managed to before.



















