King Prawn

King Prawn’s record cover shows multicolored Gummi Bears being dropped into a blender, and although there’s some truth in this packaging (the music is bright, sugary, and nutrition-free), this band’s brand of ska — with a bit of dub bass, punk guitar, violin, and cello thrown in — is not nearly as eclectic as the metaphor suggests. Any Jamaican record from the early ’60s offers just as much variety, and acts comprising the recent crop from Orange County, California, often are even more versatile.

King Prawn’s lyrics aim at typical targets: “Someone to Hate” needles lazy thinkers, while “London Born” heckles unprincipled rap fans. “Day In Day Out” frets about Big Brother, and “People Taking Over” poses the naive question Why oh why/do they treat us this way with lies? “American Funded Genocide,” King Prawn’s most focused attack, is also its most self-critical; it describes English complacency with American foreign policy in second person — while we sit and sympathize.

The emotional distance established by the rest of Surrender to the Blender makes that line stand out, but it also makes the album ultimately unrewarding. Nothing kills political rhetoric quicker than a lack of passion, and King Prawn seems more intent on being likable, or even cute, than provocative.