Disc 001: 2 Minutes Hate - Let it Eat

The Disc: 2 Minutes Hate is a band you've never heard of, and after this blog review, you never will again. Named after a concept from George Orwell's 1984, this band's moment of fame lasted about 119 seconds shorter than their name. Let it Eat was the first of only two albums released by the group in 1995 before they promptly dropped off the radar. The group was replaced by several incompetent hardcore and rap-rock namesakes who have never read 1984 but figure that any band name with the word "Hate" in it qualifies as bad-ass.

My Copy's Origins: Around the time of this album's release, I had newly discovered CMJ Magazine and its lovely monthly sampler CD's. I never became a full-blown subscriber, but I would regularly scour the magazine racks at my local Borders to find a new copy I could purchase and take home for perusal. Being still a devout follower of the gods of grunge and all things distorted, I often skipped over or scoffed at tracks such as "Underground" by Ben Folds Five, or Mercury Rev's cover of some song called "Don't Let Me Down."

But, of course, the loud stuff would catch my attention. 2 Minutes Hate's "California" qualified and I placed it on a birthday wish list. Somehow... don't ask me how, because I don't know, my parents found and bought me a copy, thus making me one of six people on the planet Earth who own this record. And the ONLY one that isn't currently flogging it on eBay.

To Toss: To be completely candid, I had never listened closely to half the songs on this record. However, as per my youthful "new-CD-listening-regimen," I have sampled the first ten or twenty seconds of each track looking for "something cool." Therefore, my former knowledge of this disc is made up of about four full songs and seven recognizable intros.

Upon listening to the album from start to finish I now realize that many of these songs never get more interesting than their intros, so I hadn't been missing much. The lead singer's voice resembles an awkward cross between a mildly sedated Billy Corgan and a smirking Jack Nicholson circa 1975. When the music supporting him is memorable and the lyrics less than cringe-worthy, his timbre can be generally ignored. However, these moments are sparse throughout.

As far as the instrumentation, the bass is indistinguishable, the drums generally inconsequential, and the guitars... well, they're playing as many riffs as they can cram into the mere 43 minutes of the disc. Actually, I'm pretty sure that the solo on "Alligator" is actually an outtake from one of Pearl Jam's sessions for Ten.

The lyrics aren't much better, with choruses like "My alli! My gator! You want it! You'd never!" or "I'm not your cauliflower. It's not my darkest hour." Somehow, cliches about despair and suffering just don't mix well with vegetable metaphors.

Not to Toss: This is one of those anomalies of the pre-digital age where, despite the generally forgettable and bland music throughout, two or three stand-out moments make me hesitant to chuck this in the bin. While most of the songs start in one mode and end still flailing about in that same vein, accomplishing very little other than draining the 9-volt in a distortion pedal, three tracks stand out as not only listenable but enjoyable.

"Killing Time," while not exactly a work of lyrical genius, is textured, layered, and contains enough nice little guitar riffs and catchy melody lines to give it status as a viable single. The use of ominous guitar feedback and faded lead lines pushes it well above the quality of the rest of the record. In fact, if it ended at 2:43 rather than jumping back into an unnecessary rehash of the main riff (now with overdrive!) I might call it a great song.


"Shock" is not as subtle as "Killing Time," but it does feature some clever studio tricks, tempo changes, and quality performances that set it apart from other tracks on the disc. The guitar sound on the intro is unique enough to alert any listener (even myself at 15) that this track is worth further inspection. Featuring a very distant, muted distortion and what appears to be miked electric guitar strums in one ear and a booming low note bent and drooped over and over in the other, the song barrels into the album's best rocker, and never really lets up.

With just that in its favor, the song wouldn't be all that spectacular, but about half-way through, the beat relents and allows the guitar and driving bass to pull the song in a whole new direction. For the only time on the whole album, the band sounds glorious, resplendent, even joyful singing "Well my heart is pounding like a big bass drum. Hallelujah!" (Is that how they convinced Ardent records to sign them?)


Lastly, "Understand" is a rare ballad that is so uncharacteristic of the band, you almost feel like you're listening to a better record for most of its four minutes. Predominantly calm and quiet, the song features some lovely melodic variations on two very simple chord structures, played mostly on the higher frets while letting the open low notes ring out below. The marked tenderness of the first two minutes and the song's vaguely passable lyrics even earn the band enough credit to justify the inevitable swell into distortion that finally bursts forth. The main riff is good enough that it actually sounds just as beautiful when played in overdrive. Though, no one would ever call "Understand" a 'classic' it shows enough promise to let the listener imagine how great it might have been with the proper production and performance.


The Verdict: This is a tough one. Would you hang on to a decent book just because it had one excellent chapter? Is a movie worth keeping on your shelf because of a single classic scene? Or is it no longer necessary to stock up on relatively vapid CD's with only a few impressive tracks now that we can just download the good ones and forgo the rest?

Considering my fondness for these three tracks, and passing interest in the lower caliber songs, I also need to take into account the rarity of the disc itself. Obviously, no collector will ever pay a mint for it, and it's not going to appreciate in value, but if I toss it now, I may never find another copy if I ever wanted one. And the fact that I think I might ever want one, tells me not to toss.

Let it Eat stays.