Mount Muffin Top by P For Persia: A Wild Ride Through Rock and Electronica
If you’re looking for an album that feels like it was brewed in some sort of musical mad scientist's lab, Mount Muffin Top by P For Persia might just be your jam. Released back in 2010 under their own label (because who needs gatekeepers when you’ve got talent?), this experimental rock-electronic hybrid is the kind of record that makes you go “huh” in the best possible way.
Let’s dive into the chaos, shall we? First off, kudos to Jacob Szulecki and Alex Porter—these guys are pulling triple duty on drums, banjo, synths, guitar, vocals, artwork… seriously, what can’t they do? It’s like they’re trying to prove humans still have superpowers. And James Gulliver deserves a shoutout too for recording and mixing most of the tracks—he clearly had his coffee that day.
Now, onto the meat and potatoes—or maybe tofu scramble, given how unconventional this thing is. Two tracks stuck with me after spinning this beast: “Firing Line” and “…Bubbleworks!”
“Firing Line” hits hard right outta the gate. The opening riff sounds like someone took a classic rock anthem, ran it through a blender, and added a dash of synth magic. There’s something about the way Alex Porter’s vocals teeter between snarl and croon that gives the song its edge. You can practically hear him shrugging as he sings, like even he’s not sure if he’s being ironic or deadly serious. By the time the chorus kicks in, you’re either headbanging or questioning all your life choices—which, let’s face it, is exactly what good music should do.
Then there’s “…Bubbleworks!”—a track so weirdly titled I almost expected bubble wrap sound effects. Spoiler alert: no bubble wrap, but plenty of bubbly goodness instead. This one leans more electronic than rock, with layers of bleeps, bloops, and noodly synth lines that feel like they escaped from a retro arcade game. But don’t get too comfy—it’s got enough grit to keep things interesting. Halfway through, the beat drops out completely, leaving nothing but eerie silence before slamming back in like a punchline to a joke you didn’t see coming. Classic.
The rest of the album keeps the vibe unpredictable. Tracks like “Great White Love Bite” and “No Ball Games Forever” bounce between genres faster than a caffeinated DJ at a house party. One moment you’re grooving to crunchy guitars, the next you’re floating away on ambient waves. It’s messy, sure, but isn’t that half the fun?
So here’s the kicker: listening to Mount Muffin Top feels less like hearing an album and more like eavesdropping on a bunch of friends messing around in a studio late at night. Sure, it could use a bit of polish, but why would you want to shine up something this delightfully rough around the edges?
Final thought: If this album were a person, it’d probably show up to a dinner party wearing mismatched socks and carrying a ukulele. Annoying? Maybe. Memorable? Absolutely. And honestly, isn’t that what great art’s supposed to be?
