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Album Review: Mike Krol lays an egg with "Turkey"

The problem with some music is one can’t tell whether the musicians are satirical performers, which typically consists of musicians performing badly on purpose for some unfathomable reason, or if some insane person actually thinks what they’re producing is good music.

This is the bewilderment listeners may experience while listening to Mike Krol’s newest release, “Turkey.”

Named after the term used for a three straight strikes in bowling, “Turkey” is supposedly the mark of Krol “making it.”

If this is making it, then music standards have fallen even farther than I thought. Faith in humanity: destroyed.

From the first track, “Suburban Wasteland,” this album is a barrage of piercing noise meant to make listeners’ ears bleed. People who listen to it may want to consume a full bottle of painkillers before subjecting themselves to this cacophony. Surely the resulting illness will be far less painful than listening to a song called, “La La La.”

Typically, a critic would include lyrics from the album to highlight the quality (good or bad) of the album being reviewed, but this album doesn’t allow its victims the volume balance needed to discern whether or not Krol is even speaking English throughout this horrendous record.

“Less Than Together” is full of terrible, over-edited bitching drowned out by the guitarist’s shitty attempts at pinch harmonics. The song is perfect for anyone who is dying to have a migraine for the rest of the day.

The only time anyone should consider paying any amount of money for a record like this is if they are planning to use it to torture information out of a terrorist or something. U.S. military, your next torture device (I mean, ahem, interrogation tactic) has been discovered. It’s called, “Turkey.”

If a friend or family member ever gives you this album as a gift, they hate you. Do not listen to that record. Expel said friend or family member from your life immediately. If you choose to ignore this advice, at least don’t use your headphones to listen to it. Your ears will suffer if you do.

The only track that doesn’t beat your hearing ability into oblivion is the last song, “Piano Shit.” For a glorious one minute and 19 seconds, there is actually a simple, decent piano melody to soothe listeners’ traumatized souls.

Of course, it is ruined by Krol saying, “they still got me on this piano shit. I don’t know, man. I didn’t sign up for this shit.” Way to screw it up, man.

Chances are, “Piano Shit” was Krol’s attempt to show that he does know how to play actual music, and therefore this abomination of a record was intentional.

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Who knows? Maybe it’s a statement. Maybe there’s some kind of message intended with the style of this album.

Krol, if you’re trying to send a message, this is not the way to do it. You are an insult to those who actually dedicate their lives to learning how to make beautiful music. I promise you, you can talk to your audience and get through to them without assaulting their senses. Work on that.

Those who wish to subject themselves to this album can do so when it releases on Aug. 28.

Skylar Griego is the culture editor at the Daily Lobo. She can be reached at or on Twitter @TDLBooks.

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