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editor's note
Dick Taut and the Ripcords
The Sage-Quest of Unknown Mustang
by Adam Toth

Dick Taut and the Ripcords are, well,. strange. Or their music is at least. Give their new album,
The Sage-Quest of Unknown Mustang, a listen and you’ll see what I mean. But then again, I’m not sure it will be worth your time.

A few years ago, a few high school friends and I were considering making a joke album using a friend’s recording studio. We all had a decent sense of humor and could play instruments to an extent. The album wasn’t supposed to have any serious passion, though, and its sole purpose was for us to have fun. We didn’t want to be an actual band. We had already tried that, and failed. We just wanted to make an album for our own personal enjoyment. Well, that’s what Dick Taut and the Ripcords sound like on this album.
The Sage-Quest of Unknown Mustang sounds like it was fun to make, but doesn’t actually sound that good.

There are nineteen tracks on the album, seventeen of which are titled. Only one graces above the three minute mark. Each song is completely different from the other, and several of them make very little sense. If you’re a lyrical person, and love carefully constructed lyrics that go deep into the heart, you’ll be fully disappointed. If you want some humorous lyrics on crack, then check this out. It’s like poetry where the poem itself is high. Enough adjectives cannot describe it, but you’ll often feel like you’re listening to zombies trying to sing, a sesame street musical gone mature, or a synthesizer with pre-programmed vocals. But don’t worry, because every once in awhile you’ll feel like you’re actually listening to a human being.

With all that said, this album isn’t entirely bad. I definitely don’t share the same taste of humor as Dick Taut and company, but at the same time, got a pretty big kick out of certain songs. Certain lines such as “suck my fart” and cleverly thought up puns like “how much Dick can you take?” show a lack of mature songwriting. But on the same token, I must confess that “The Devil Stomped James Power’s Ass” tugged me the right way.

Honestly, the best conclusion I could make about Dick Taut and the Ripcords is that they just threw a ton of stuff together that they had thought of while high or hoping they were high or something along those lines (songs titled “The Snoke Does Bongs” and “Where Da Weed At” are some of many pretty good inclinations to that) and decided to reject nothing. If they had an idea, they put it on the album. In their mind, there must’ve been no bad ideas. I feel that’s a safe assumption to make, because some of these songs are truly clever, but others are just pathetic, and they are all completely different from one another. At least they’re all unique; that’s one common quality I can promise to you.

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