If we lived in a reality where children, instead of becoming adults as they aged, became, say, furry green multi-headed antelopes that shit out, like, gems and miniature cities instead of poop, and everyone talked out of their eyes, and rubbing the soles of one’s foot with someone else’s foot was considered the most intimate form of human contact, then Rochelle Rochelle would be the biggest house band in the universe. But since we live here, in this reality, this tape sounds like the droll, trying soundtrack to a demented kids’ show, full of reverb and no information besides song titles and, honestly, I just don’t have the patience for it.
–keith (Muckman)