Con Carne by The Pizza Crushers: A Hard Rock Feast from Belgium
Alright, buckle up, because we’re diving into Con Carne, the 1996 hard rock gem by The Pizza Crushers. This Belgian beast of an album is like that one friend who shows up uninvited to a party but ends up being the life of it. Released under Team For Action (or was it Team 4 Action? Who cares—it’s rock 'n' roll), this record doesn’t just lean into hard rock; it headbangs straight through the genre with its fists raised high. And hey, props to Marc Van Rompaey for wearing so many hats he probably needed a hat rack—engineer, mixer, producer—you name it, he did it. Pascal Flamme also helped produce, so let’s throw him a bone too.
Now, onto the tracks. With a whopping 23 songs on this thing, it’s basically a buffet of riffs, solos, and lyrics that range from “huh?” to “oh hell yeah!” But two tracks really stuck in my brain like gum on a hot sidewalk: "Bitch’N Pitch’N Delire" and "Sunshine In Your Eyes."
First off, "Bitch’N Pitch’N Delire"—what a title, right? It sounds like something you’d yell after dropping your phone down the toilet. Musically, though, it’s pure fire. The opening riff grabs you by the collar and shakes you until you forget what day it is. It’s raw, unfiltered, and kinda feels like getting punched in the face—but in a good way. You know those songs where you can practically smell the sweat and spilled beer at the live show? Yeah, this is one of them. Plus, they put it on the album twice, which either means they ran out of ideas or they just REALLY loved it. Either way, works for me.
Then there’s "Sunshine In Your Eyes," which comes in both regular and club mix flavors. I’m not usually a fan of ballad-y stuff, but this track sneaks up on you like a cat in the night. It starts mellow, almost sweet, then BAM—it hits you with a guitar solo so sharp it could cut glass. By the time the club mix rolls around, you’re ready to start fist-pumping in a neon-lit disco even if you’re just sitting in your mom’s basement.
The rest of the album has some wild moments too. Tracks like "Loose My Time" (did they mean “lose”? Probably) and "Down With Mary Jane" feel like odes to questionable decisions and late-night shenanigans. Honestly, it’s refreshing—not everything needs to be polished to perfection. Sometimes, music should feel like it’s been scribbled in pen on the back of a napkin.
So here’s the kicker: Con Carne isn’t gonna win any Grammys, and it might not even make it onto most “Best Of” lists. But does it need to? Nah. This album is proof that rock doesn’t have to take itself too seriously—it’s about having fun, cranking the volume, and maybe setting something on fire (responsibly, of course). If you’re looking for something that’ll remind you why hard rock rules without trying too hard to impress, give this a spin. Just don’t blame me if you end up air-guitaring so hard you pull a muscle.
And hey, bonus points for making me Google “Rajin’ Cajuns.” Is that a band? A cooking show? A spicy new dance move? Your guess is as good as mine.
