When there are so many great bands, both on their way up and down, floundering without any kind of record deal, who on earth thought it would be a good idea to give someone like Liam Lynch a major label contract (and don’t be fooled by the indie shtick, this is as corporate as it comes). You’ll know ‘United States Of Whatever’ of course, but that really is as good as it gets, great art next to the likes of ‘Still Wasted From The Party Last Night’ and ‘I’m All Bloody Inside’. Comedy songs have a history of sounding shit after a couple of listens, but Lynch’s don’t even get that far. This is a bunch of half baked ideas thrown together, the majority of which may have seemed funny at the time but come up woefully short in the cold light of day. A scattering of artist pastiches litter the album (the fake songs of the title) although why you’d want to listen to inferior versions of the Pixies or Talking Heads when Doolittle and Stop Making Sense already is beyond me. As is the presence of Ringo Starr on two of the songs. The only plus point is that the 20 tracks last a mere 30 minutes, but that is scant reward for such an unmitigated waste of everybody’s time.