During the last part of the Eighties and mid Nineties, Oakland A’s sluggers Mark McGwire and Jose Canseco shot a lot of steroids and squashed a huge amount of homers and named themselves the Bash Brothers as they typified another sort of mullet-brother abundance in sports. The couple would proceed to break hallowed records (McGwire), date Madonna (Canseco) and by and large assume a gigantic function in flagging an awful change from baseball’s coked-up, free-wheeling New-York-Mets-destroying a-plane period to the dim first light of A Rod. Furthermore, on the off chance that you were a specific sort of juvenile male in 1989, you most likely idea they were divine beings.
McGwire and Canseco are the subject of the most recent venture from the Lonely Island, The Unauthorized Bash Brothers Experience, a ”visual sonnet,” accessible through Netflix, that envisions the couple as Bay Area rappers. Its great soundtrack is just as amusingly silly and amazingly very much made as past Lonely Island contributions, for example, their 2016 soundtrack to their Bieber-engraved parody Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping. The Lonely Island’s individuals — Andy Samberg, Akiva Schaffer and Jorma Taccone — grew up around Oakland during Canseco and McGwire’s brilliance years with the A’s, so the games nerd wistfulness is similarly as solid as the pop geek concision. The music, similar to the men who’ve anecdotally made it, is squeezed; the License to Ill-touched ”Uniform On” establishes the pace: ”Got the one-ton jimmy and the itty bitty sack/My balls shrivel little cuz the ’roids so solid/But it makes the previously mentioned jimmy-jam look long,” they gloat with neck-flexing foolishness. ”We should Bash” is part West Coast gangsta rap rager, section A Tribe Called Quest interjection, snared to the hold back ”I left my steroids in El Sobrante.”
Some portion of the incongruity is envisioning a humankind for these two that was certainly never there in any case. The Bash Brothers start their adventure as hard-celebrating good for nothings (”I feel like Macho Man and you’re my Miss Elisabeth,” they note on the Sia-helped ”Oakland Nights”) and end up troubled survivors of their own superstardom (”IHOP Parking Lot,” including HAIM and Maya Rudolph, goes from Janet Jackson-referring to funk exercise to operatic plunge into heck, soliciting, ”Will my family be pleased with my name?/Feels like my body is a runaway train.”) The collection finishing ”Daddy” finishes the joke by finding the genuine explanations behind the team’s unquenchable want for swelled details and Popeye-size lower arms: ’Hit it so long however you generally need it longer, father,” Samberg-as-Jose warbles in a trance of Autotune floundering.
That dismal muscle head sturm und drang includes a more contemporary degree of parody. By calling The Unauthorized Bash Brothers Experience a visual sonnet, with its echoes of the visual collection that accompanied Beyonce’s Lemonade, the Lonely Island advise us that, in 2019, vainglorious pop star introspect is such a simple guilty pleasure practically anybody can cop to it, even these two bozos.