Album Battle: Massari vs. Karl Wolf

Massari

Forever Massari
Universal Records

vs.

Karl Wolf

Nightlife
LW Records

The plan: pick two albums and pit them against each other in a gruesome deathmatch until a victor emerges. There can be only one!

Best Doppelganger

Massari: Probably Karl Wolf, who bears an uncanny, almost disturbing resemblance to Massari in appearance, background, and musical stylings. Both are bald-headed, aviator-sporting, Lebanese-Canadian purveyors of tired clubbin’ beats and putridly slick R&B, with enough chinstraps between them to keep helmets on an entire NHL team. Make sure to put on welding glasses when looking through his liner notes; staring at this many popped collars has been proven to cause retinal searing and irreversible blindness.
Wolf: Massari. The only discernable difference is that Wolf has a labret piercing, has “Lone Wolf” tattooed on his forearms in a way that looks like a substandard Photoshop manipulation, and appears to own up to two hats.
Edge: Neither. When you pick up Karl Wolf’s album and accidentally mistake it for Massari’s (true story), you are witnessing two not-very-distinguishable artists.

Worst Album Opening

Massari: “Body Body,” which indicates a profound creative desperation approximately zero seconds into the album. Its crunching opening melody has been a dance hit for years, ever since it was known as Salt-n-Pepa’s “Push It.” Yes, Massari has opened his album with a single that heavily samples one of the most sampled songs of all time — which nevertheless makes “Body Body” just as catchy as it was when it was released in 1987.
Wolf: “Yalla Habibi,” is a passable dance track, but opens with Wolf’s featured help on the song, a rapper who’s dubbed himself Kaz Money. When he gave himself a shout-out, I mistakenly thought he was saying “cash money” and enjoyed a hearty laugh. When I discovered what he was actually saying “Kaz Money,” my feelings didn’t change.
Edge: Wolf. He has an entire four seconds on Massari before the appearance of something laughably contrived.

Best Song for Getting Asses on the Floor

Massari: “Girls Around The World,” which, while seeming to establish Massari’s bold girl-in-every-port stance, is also an annoyingly catchy earworm.
Wolf: “Nightlife,” where Wolf tells the heartwarming story of a sheltered “good girl” who casts off the shackles of her straight-arrow life and becomes addicted to being a bar star.
Edge: Massari. Regardless of how irritating it is, it’s best for doing the Party Boy on the dance floor.

Most Unintentionally Funny Lyrics

Massari: “She’s like a moving target / Every time I wanna come and get close she fades away / she’s like a moving target / if I don’t hurry up and lock that, she’ll get away”from the track “Moving Target” speaks powerfully to the frustrations of stalkers everywhere, who have to put up with girls moving out of their line of sight and fighting back during their subsequent kidnapping and imprisonment.
Wolf: “You might think I’m over you / No girl! You’re the baddest / Even though I’m in love with you / I had to change my status / cause I’m hurting! I’m hurting! I’m hurting!” from “Hurting”is a poignant digital-age testament to Wolf’s personal anguish over changing his Facebook status to “it’s complicated.”
Bonus Massari: “Said she wanna take me on some bizarre love triangle” from “Love Triangle” is open to vast interpretations. Massari seems to allude to the sacred love between himself, the girl of his dreams, and a very special turtle — a love that dare not speak its name.
Edge: Stalking and turtle sex? Massari wins, hands down.

Worst Toto Cover

Massari: None.
Wolf: “Africa,” which was featured on Wolf’s previous album and became a smash hit, so he decided to milk it for as much of its little worth as possible by including it as a “bonus track.”
Edge: Massari. Covering Toto is never acceptable.

Victor

Massari, if we’re basing the win on who’s more ridiculous, but most of Massari’s songs are too immemorable to be forgettable. Wolf seems slightly more talented, though we’re all a little worse off for these albums existing. Listening to one of these albums makes me feel oily and in need of a bath. Both at the same time requires a dousing in turpentine. Comically over-the-top douchebaggery rarely gets this flagrant or offensive.