Jesse Matheson, Pleasure Pounds

Jesse Matheson Pleasure Pounds album cover

Album review—Jesse Matheson, Pleasure Pounds

– by Eugene Osudar

a little Jack Kerouac
crazy quilting
naughty words
some kinda Jim Carroll
rolling silly syllables
on the persians
Jonathan Richman smack
kiss,kiss, me,quick!
a touch of The Beck
on the cheek, lick
on the derriere, slick
speck(les) of Lou Reed
let’s, get, naked!
spreading the Lou/Lou
seed, Jesse Mmmmmmm
mmmmmMatheson
getting the velvet
caress under,ground
Pleasure, Pounds,
Jazz Butcher humming,
Mojo Nixon strumming
“kiss me,
kiss me now!”
oh, sexy thoughts
songs about f#cking
(not in the Big Black
penis main throbbing
vein) these are songs
about, doing it
in the cemetery
some kinda
PoP throbbing FuN
Make Out song
in and out
oiled up and ready to
gogogo
Gogol Bordello!
great beginnings
middles and endings
not necessarily
in that order
climax(xxx)ing to the
New Order of things
to cummmmmmm
“it’s a love seat, baby”
Moan,
“i want to make you,
moan.”
i like all things love,sexy
Prince
and The Revolution
Jack U Off
downright steamy,
creamy and dreamy
fixed right and tight
in my soft jeans
well worn wear
outlining the curves
of my swerves
penile contractions
hard distractions
pc muscle flexing
hot cherry sexing
i’m so in need
of The Moan
to the New Booty
i like a man who knows
how to read Sweet Ass,
New Booty,
a la Tinto Brass,
here’s a cutie’s
Cracklin’ Rosie melons
Neil Diamond delight
hot almond oil
rubberized dildo
realized, sanitized
here’s to the New
Booty
and
She Does It In Graveyards,
jizzy-jazzy, butcher feeling
“how nice and nasty
right there on top
of the dead
underneath the shooting
stars oh man late at night
promises she won’t bite
she’ll do one or two things
to you on a tombstone
you’ll never forget”
oh yeah
i’m feeling it
remembering that hot
hard spooky sex.
Son Of a Gun,
mellow baby duets.
The French Song
it all sounds
so sexy whispered
in her ear
as she purrs
bad little kitten,
“i’m trying my best
i want to impress
and so i’m saying
every single French
word that I know.”
and that’s love,sexy
moaned and groaned
she’ll confess
her secret most desires
daddy knows best in
Le Marquis De Sade’s
120 Days of Sodom
so it’s an
Orgy in Portland
booze and wild swinging sex
“the girls
giving the affections
the tongues
they all got down
didn’t take long
for all of them
to undress”
heavy breathing
to PoP
and whip “the things
sticking up in the air
all those orgy smells
some people have trouble
keeping secrets cuz
pretty soon everybody
knew the story, rent
yourself a hotel/motel
room and have yourself
an orgy!”
Pour The Wine
“i get a little saucy
when the wine
goes to my head
i can’t focus
all i can think of
is getting to
the kisses.”
Walk Downtown,
dead,places
skyscraper
tombstones
trumpet sounds
for the dying.
seriously, how
does this fit,
with all the sex,
wine and booze,
liquids spilling?
unless,
you like sex
in your public
places…which
i do. and this song
isn’t, about that
glorious pleasure.
should have been
saved for the next
CD.
Like Flying, a
Sadly Beautiful
(The Replacements)
trumpet links the
songs. a going
home song after
a night, all alone.
gorgeously
introspective.
Nothing At All,
“i want to see you
wearing nothing
at all, i had a dream
you called me
saying you’re wearing
nothing at all, i had
a dream we were at
the mall you were trying
on nothing at all.”
hot little skifffffling duet.
we’re back to the fun
se(xy) songs, Pleasure
Pounds! Good Times,
maybe some Mojo
maybe some Jonathan.
the hot,fun steaminess
of the first 9 songs
has dissipated.
perhaps a ten/inch
song release with
a phony “bonus tracks”
inclusion of Walk
Downtown, Like Flying
and Good Times
a better idea?
don’t get me wrong,
i like these songs.
just not in the heart
and spirit of Pleasure
Pounds.
We Don’t Have To
Go Home, is a lovely
little duet ditty,
perfect for a last song.
“hey i picked this flower
for you, here’s my open
heart.” all in all,
i like Pleasure Pounds.
so will your girlfriend
as you’re doing it
“in graveyards.”

About Eugene Osudar

“born, august 16, 1963. i’m 45, and yes, i’m getting too old for this. bring out the rocking chair. my first concert, november 1978, elvis costello and the attractions. i was 15. their blisteringly brilliant 65 minute set only served somebody to affirm my new direction in the musical parallel universes, new wave punk alternative, oh sanctity oh celebration (!Freedom!) college radio! i’m old, i’m used up and i’m free. i see 50something Full sets of music every month and dance most of them. and when i dance, i mean to say, I Dance and Celebrate, 2/3/4 hours a night. The Gaslight Anthem. The Boss. The Weber Brothers. The Wind Ups. i’ll dance with Los Campesinos. i’ll move to The Long Winters. The Replacements. Husker Du. The Pogues. oh elvis costello, oh Clash! i could go/go/go Gogol Bordello forever. L(eonard) Cohen. come, Dance With Me (Old 97s) wherever you may be, sincerely, eugene
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