“Look out! Naughty words comin' at ya” – the catch cry of our national yoof broadcaster can't begin to cover The Good Ships' second album O' Exquisite Corpse. Hell, these guys would make the seafarers they so lovingly and often depict, including Roger The Cabin Boy, blush purple. Filthy sea shanties are a specialty for this rag-tag eight-piece, beautifully unchoked by the ego found amongst many large ensembles, though their self-described porno, folk, country, cabaret influences make them more than a one-trick pony.
Beginning tamely enough with the slightly melancholic, acoustic strums of Ghost Ship, the Brisbane outfit flex their melody muscles with the stupidly catchy Powder Monkey before launching into heartfelt smut. Shamelessly sexually explicit, the lyrics of Grenfell are entirely at odds with the sweet, unassuming country slide guitar and percussion backing used to explore co-frontman Daz Gray's youthful dalliances with the town's sluts: “Let you finger them at school/Wank you under water in the pool.” Kudos for publicly owning the boys-club chat.
The Good Ship's inventive vulgarity often causes pause for thought, as though one has wandered soberly into a bad taste party, confused about whether that chick dangling a bloodied, still-born doll from an umbilical chord fashioned out of rope has crossed the line. Undoubtedly she has, but by night's end, it's not such a shock to hear the words: “If you were the coat hanger/I'd be the foetus” amidst piano ballad What I'm Trying To Say. Imagine being in that private zone of friendship where poor taste, super bad jokes and plainly wrong language are accepted, expected even, and O' Exquisite Corpse will be a hoot.
