That something this much fun, and with this much personality, is a self-released project is either a shining example of an artist thriving in his own right or further evidence that the music industry as a whole has feces for ears.
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This Minneapolis-based songsmith/court jester's "Buzzkill Nation'' CD was one of the freshest bits of precocious pop to be released in 1996. And his new five-song EP is just as impressive, bridging
                      that heretofore unbridgeable gulf between hip-hop and country, highlighted by the marvelous post-slacker anthem "No Such Thing as Saturday.'' 

  That something this much fun, and this rife with personality, is a self-released project is either a shining example of a do-it-yourself artist thriving in his own glorious element, or further evidence that
                                                           the music industry as a whole has feces for ears. 

     "A lotta wack songwriters in the land of the lakes wouldn't know a fresh lyric if it hit 'em in the face,'' raps Merz, faux-arrogantly. Thing is, he's absolutely right. Present company excluded.
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Merz's sarcastic dark humor is in full bloom on this satirically narcissistic five-song disc. This time around, Merz takes aim at the bloated, egomaniacal rap-stars, singer/songwriters, and music
 industry blowhards who find salvation in their own overinflated self-importance. This disk will make you wonder about what 'artists' are really trying to say (or do) to us... Why are rappers and rock
  stars so intent on making us believe they're God's gift to the universe when in fact they're probably the most screwed up bunch of people on the planet? Why are singer-songwriters so hellbent on
 sharing their innermost feelings and deepest secrets with us when they claim to be so private and shy and sensitive? Why do celebrities like Rosie O'Donnell or Woody Haralson consider themselves
 deeply insightful political experts just because they're in the public eye? What do they want from us? Why should we even care? Merz makes his point by co-opting and mangling the very format he's
   lambasting : the opening track "Mach Merz Ein Der Haus" is a ridiculously boastful rap featuring his ultra-white midwestern vocal delivery over an equally white rhythm track. "Libra Moon" is
another pseudo-rap in which Merz narates the event of his birth as a sort of astrological Second Coming that sounds like Leonard Nemoy fronting Jimmy Buffet's Coral Reefer band. The album's best
 song is "No Such Thing as Saturday" an on-target depiction of a struggling musician and his resentment towards the club owners and record execs who hold so much undue power over his life. This
         disc is a lot like Spinal Tap in that it's accuracy is both hilarious and REALLY depressing. Where's the St. John's wort? Pookie's Picks: No Such Thing as Saturday, Libra Moon 
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