Attak, Rehash

It’s been almost three years since KMFDM “officially” disbanded, and I’d gotten used to the idea of the members’ various side projects. Our dirty little secret was that KMFDM was so absolutely burned into our pre-pubescent minds that they could never escape. Every side project, every “reforming” (what the hell was MDFMK anyway?) would inevitably be compared to KMFDM and soon be declared shit in the face of our fond memories. We’ve spent so much time looking for the second coming of our favourite Germans that when it finally came, nobody cared.ATTAK is, essentially, Sascha Konietzko and Tim Skold’s baby. Nobody’s talking about it as much as one might expect, but En Esch and Gunter Schultz have apparently told Sascha to have fun playing dress-up. They turned down the opportunity to appear on this abomination, and one listen puts their decision in perspective: the album is, quite frankly, a cheap puppet imitation of anything KMFDM ever was. The magic isn’t just missing; it’s flipped Sascha the bird and told him to keep his pretty-boy protégé.

Unfortunately, no one told that pretty-boy, Tim Skold, to stay behind the mixer and shut the fuck up. Those of you who, like me, awaited the second coming, most likely remember the sad state of affairs that was Skold. His yawning self-titled debut showed off his engineering skill only to point and laugh at his inept and meaningless lyrics. The situation is generally the same here. Surprised? I didn’t think so. Oh, Tim, you’ve “Risen,” I’m amazed. We’re all waiting for you to just bust out O’ Fortuna and get it over with, Mr. Epic.

Sure, William Rieflin and Raymond Watts make their standard appearances. Watts gives a typical Pig-with-less-pornography performance that we’ve come to expect from his involvement with KMFDM on tracks like Dirty, while Riefflin once again gets lost in the mix. ATTAK isn’t completely devoid of its moments, however. Lucia Cifarelli contributes a beautiful and appropriate voice to the album, and on tracks like Superhero, truly shines. It’s unfortunate that she’s forced to sing backup on the rest of the album.

In the end, the rebirth of KMFDM has turned out to be a lot like every other band who gets back together after their audience grew out of their music: over-produced, trite, and where Sascha screams, “Monkey man! Monkey man!” it’s just laughable. Getting back together because you’ve run out of money is a great excuse for a tour, but rarely is a reunion album listenable, or in this case, worth it.