On first consideration, this all seems very silly. Putting aside the copious references to drugs and drug-taking (and let's be honest, there are plenty), the apparent lunacy of the album's lyrical content is there for all to see.
Let's start with the album title: 'Laguna the Puma'. Now, I appreciate that artists are completely within their rights as artists to christen their baby in whatever manner they see fit. And in the grand scheme of things, 'Laguna the Puma', with its childish, nursery-rhyme-esque vibe is hardly the worst that has ever been unleashed on the music-listening world: 'Cosi Fan Tutti Frutti' by Squeeze is pretty poor, as well as appropriate in continuing the rather infantile rhyming game that we've got going on here; Butthole Surfers obviously weren't content with just having one of the worst band-names in existence when 'Rembrandt Pussyhorse' was announced; and Le Loup's 'The Throne Of The Third Heaven Of The Nations' Millennium General Assembly' may also have been influenced by some illicit substances at some point in the album's gestation period.
Anyway, the point is, most of the discernible lyrics are odd. Later on, we come across a conversation with Mickey Mouse (or indeed, 'Mickey Maüs', perhaps fearing Disney's iron-fist). As if that wasn't odd enough, we're soon joined by magic fairies on the shoulder, just in case you didn't find having a giant Germanic rodent in your house a big enough mind-fuck. And this is when I can actually make out what is being said. Because, and maybe this is just me (it does seem to happen a lot), I had a lot of trouble understanding what came out of Michael Laguna's mouth. On top of the silliness, in a number of songs he gives the impression of having massively abused helium along with the more classic A-list, hard drugs. And be it a self-consciously ironic take on 'drugs are good, man' or a heartfelt respect for the counter-culture of the sixties and seventies, chemical substances of one description or another seem to pervade just about every track.
Musically, the album is also rather a mess of influences and genres. The opening track 'Nuclear Snowcone' (another baffling name) sees Laguna pulling on his grunge-face; later on, we have the fantastically silly piano-ballad of 'Everybody Loves Acid On A Sunday Morning', complete with the refrain, sure to corrupt the youth of today, of 'take a tab and just stick it in your mouth' and a swooning, verging on histrionic, break-down. With the feel of an alt-pop troubador in the style of Beck and John Vanderslice, albeit a whole lot odder, Laguna Meth ploughs a confused, rather disjointed musical furrow.
'Sugar Shack' and 'Stud Boy' plump for a more accessible pop-sound, and with the abundance of drug-references, it is hardly surprising that many of the songs are tinged with a hint of psychadelica. 'Lucifer O' gradually builds from a percussive swirl and acoustic guitar accompaniment before imploding in a tumult of bleeps, reversed and stuttering sound-bites and hypnotic guitar echoes. 'Laguna Meth', as well as opening in a very similar vein to Blur's 'Strange News From Another Star', is slightly less startling than 'Lucifer O', opting for a more gentle, woozy atmosphere with airy slide-guitar and piano-noodles abound. 'Trippin'' feels like a cross between the hard-rock of the late seventies, early nineties grunge (already tasted in 'Nuclear Snowcone') and stoner-rock, and 'Crazy like a Werewolf', a rocking beast of a tune, needs only a chest-wig and a shirt ripped to the navel to complete the picture.
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Elsewhere, the closing-track of the album, 'Children of the Garden' pulls out a Procol Harem-like organ, tapping into not only the drug-inspired ethos, but the actual music of the period. It is the longest track on the album, and it's a meandering beauty, if a little bit loose. Underpinned by the ringing organ chords (occasionally decorated with some twiddling flourishes), vocal harmonies slide in and out, guitars disappear into the distance and vocals, beyond the opening few minutes, are almost indistinguishable. You can even hear some violins in there somewhere. It really deserves a swirly, tie-dye video, ready to freak out those squares. The only reproach I can give it is that it all seems to fall apart at the end. One can maybe excuse such an event in the odd song or two, in the middle of an album. However, with 'Children of the Garden' being the last song of the album, it leaves 'Lagune the Puma' with a rather sloppy, unfinished close. Maybe it's meant to add to the free, liberated feel of an album that's playing by its own rules. It'll probably cement its cult appeal in any case.
Because, it should be said, the album is worth listening to. Being difficult to pin down in terms of style isn't necessarily a bad thing. Despite lacking coherence, there are some decent, exceptionally odd tunes to be found. A cult following is likely to follow, and with its copious drug references and scatter-shot style, it's unlikely to make it far into the mainstream. But for those in search of the latest musical curio, this is pretty weird.
http://www.myspace.com/lagunameth
http://www.lagunameth.com/
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