Show- DFU's lunatic roots are part Deliverance, part The Shining, with a flair for vaudeville, a taste for granola and a smiling squinty hint of something that might only be described as undistracted evil. Fun stuff. And the dancer who kept tapping out of her top was a nice touch too. -Hour, Jan. 30-Feb. 5, 2003, Jamie O'Meara, "Locals@large".
CD- Dante's Flaming Uterus' "In flagrante delicto" (Independent) This is fucked. I like it, mind you, but it's totally fucked. The Uterus's are Randy Peters (mandolin, clarinet, penny whistles and vocals) and Jan Normand Desrosiers (guitar, vocals) with Joellen Housego (violin, vocals) and they just kind of put me off my dinner. It's been awhile since anyone's done that. I'm starting to think of Dante's Flaming Uterus as folk dadaists for the not-yet-completely-cynical; a kind of frantic Celtic kitchen jam band for the dead-and-happy-about-it. They stand the beauty of simple urban balladry on its head, revealing the dry-cleaning-fluid huffing, cultural everyman beneath, and the love-struck budding psychopath behind. They have you surrounded. But they are not without love (indeed: Obsessional Love Song, Insectoid Love Song, Monastic Love Song and Masochistic Love Song are but a few of the hellacious hits here), and they are not without a sense of humour, charbroiled though it may be. Do not, under any circumstances, consume with drugs, even - especially - if they tell you to. -Hour, "Where all the discs hang out", 14 mars, 2002, Jamie O'Meara on DFU CD launch, "Locals@large".
CD- First impressions from the CD: it sounds too goddam Canadian! Flowery flutes fluttering around gently strummed accoustic guitars, fiddles jumping in for choruses... But--it's not just how it sounds. That's why it bugs me. These songs are amazing! The lyrics are--dare I coin a term-- deliciously delectable. I give you one example, from the song about huffing dry-cleaning fluid: "I saw infinity, it was green". Most songs are hilarious comic tragedies worthy of the status we give to those old ballads about ships sinking. I could've done without the instrumental jigs, but again, the songwriting on the other tunes are well worth a listen. Somehow the rampant profanity I remember from their fabled live shows is absent, as are some of their most-requested songs. They still manage to sound offensive, however and who knows, this CD may well be followed by an "R" rated version. In all, anyone interested in finding some twisted contemporary balladry should definitively check this out. Louis Rastelli, Fish Piss vol. 2,, no. 2 fall/ winter 2002 , Spontaneous Productions rgd.
