★★★

An absurd hippie child of a debut, Drugdealer’sThe End Of Comedycould be about everything or absolutely nothing: in this paradox lies its possible genius.

Los Angeles artist Michael Collins’ work with Drugdealer is not unlike his doped up creations under previous monikers Salvia Plath and Run DMT. Between a church-belled beginning and the manic laughter that descends into a siren and serves as the ending, The End Of Comedy weaves together a daisy chain of Beatles-esque ballads, unfinished thoughts and oddly romantic brass solos. The album is a rambling mix of ’60s pop and smooth jazz with a psychedelic twist.

While clearly a concept album, it is difficult to decipher if Collins is having a laugh or trying to be profound. The songs, while amusing, lack distinctiveness, can be maddeningly repetitive and often wander into futility. Not unlike Pink Floyd’s Dark Side Of The Moon, the album is peppered with instrumental interludes, jarring noises and philosophical reveries.

The worth of The End Of Comedy wholly depends on how the listener decodes it. Is it an inane mess or a work of artistic social commentary? Up to you.

Drugdealer’sThe End Of Comedyis available through Weird World.

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