If Time New Viking were the teenagers that genuinely tried to flesh out the big productions of their idols with limited proficiency and production value, JEFF the Brotherhood were the snotty assholes who recorded songs about farts and poop just so they could laugh at the playbacks. Nothing about JEFF the Brotherhood’s fourth album is serious. From the Raaaaaaaandy-style horn blast that kicks it off to the lazy Skynyrd and Ramones parodies that make up its second half, We Are the Champions comes off as a massive lark. At the end of “Cool Out”, the group switches from their style of boring slacker rock to a blast beat with guttural screams, as if lead singer Jake Orrall had just heard “Raining Blood” and thought it was the funniest thing of all time. There’s a feeling throughout We Are the Champions that what you’re walking into wasn’t really made for public consumption; I have no real objection to these types of joke songs, but they hold up terribly when shown to anyone but the musicians’ immediate friends and family. If you ask me, JEFF the Brotherhood are not even close to being ready for primetime. They’re close to the bottom of the lo-fi barrel, and they’ll probably always stay that way.
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