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Title: Awful, but yet somehow compelling
Review: Billy Corgan is an annoying twit who can sing much better than here (listen to Gish). The unmistakable stench of pretensious B.S. hangs over nearly every song on this album. I want to hate it, and yet, something keeps me coming back to it. Maybe it's the goofy art work. Maybe it's the interesting song titles. Maybe it's the three song stretch on disk two of "Thirty-three," "In The Arms Of Sleep" and "1979" where the album really clicks. Best to listen to this one in small doses, I think.
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