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4.0 out of 5 stars
the little monkeys play this in their head, August 28, 2003
Confessions of a Spiritually-Wretched Mind would be a good title for Real Panic Formed if it were ever made into a movie (with Philip Seymour Hoffman playing the rebellious but always lovable Jeff Suffering, no doubt). In other words, this album is full of honesty, the blunt kind rather than the courteous. It's almost as if Suffering ripped out his heart, Indiana Jones Temple of Doom style, and stuffed it into a CD case for all the world to buy, open, and partake in the bloodied organ that is his soul.Now, I know I'm on a metaphorical role here, but I need to stop for a moment to clear something up: Jeff Suffering is not a Nick Cave clone. Despite that Suffering calls his backing bad "the Hideous Thieves" (sounding suspiciously similar to "Bad Seeds"), despite that both Jeff and Nick know how to summon the darkest spirits from their souls, and despite that the photographs for Cave's No More Shall We Part and Suffering's album here look very much alike (reminding me of a Backstreet Boys photo session gone freaking mad), Jeff Suffering is NOT mimicking Nick Cave. Okay well, maybe just a little bit. Suffering would be the first to claim Cave as one of his heroes. If there's anything in Real Panic Formed that will give a Cave veteran familiar flashbacks, it's probably intentional and more tribute than plagiarism. So, having got that off my chest, let's move on. The album begins with All My Friends Are On Prozac, which pretty much sums up the lyrical themes presented here: Depression and suicide. When Suffering isn't dwelling on these themes, he's either rotting in jail ("Lonely Tonight") or confessing more about his sexual life than most of us would be comfortable knowing ("The Other Side of the Moon," "Sex Is Dead"). While Jeff's raspy, off-key (and often horrible) voice perfectly suites the material he's singing about, the songs in themselves are beautifully orchestrated and played. The contrast between the vocals and melody make for an interesting, even artistic, effect. It makes Suffering sound like even more of a lost-in-the-desert, thirsty wretch when he's surrounded by the string arrangements of "Cure Violence With Violence" or "Ugly" (a song that almost had me in tears because of its beauty). Only in "My Black Heart Infection" does the chaotic rhythm match Suffering's primitive screaming. So, pull up a chair and drink some of Jeff Suffering's latest blood. It's stirred to perfection, as dirty as it looks on the surface. Mmmmm, tasty.
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by Suffering and the Hideous Thieves 
