TERMINAL BOREDOM Review Archive pt. I
Ain't nothing wrong/with reading old record reviews...
Take a trip back in time, to 15-20 years ago.
Punk rock was brand new and one intrepid reporter dared to chronicle the rumblings in the underground….
Fire Engines "Codex Teenage Premonition"
Fire Engines were a band from Edinburgh, Scotland that existed for exactly 18 months during those golden years of UK post-punk, 1979 – 1981. They released a few hard to find seven inches and one LP, most of which is collected on the out-of-print ‘Fond’ CD. They were outsiders lurking on the more melodically conventional Postcard Records scene of Orange Juice and Aztec Camera. They had more in common with bands like The Mekons and The Scars, thus drawing them into Fast Product’s orbit, resulting in a brief flurry of exciting releases. Fire Engines legacy remained one of polite post-punk legend, until dance-rock posterboys Franz Ferdinand sashayed their way onto the international rock scene and made it OK to be a weird Scottish post-punk from the past. They started name-dropping Fire Engines and Orange Juice in interviews and people were interested again. Orange Juice was recently rewarded with a nice retrospective, but that wasn’t good enough for Fire Engines; the original band reunited. They have since played shows with Franz Ferdinand and recorded some new material.
Unfortunately, instead of re-releasing ‘Fond,’ or, even better, compiling a newer, more definitive collection, the Domino label, in collaboration with Creeping Bent, has issued a live CD with recordings taken from a few different shows in 1980 and 1981. The recordings are of decent sound quality and it’s a nice thing to have if you are already a fan and it could even work as an introduction to the band, but it’s certainly not ideal. There are a few Peel Sessions tacked onto the end. Nevertheless, ‘Codex Teenage Premonition’ will give you an idea of what Fire Engines were all about: terse yet danceable rhythms, barbed guitars colliding haphazardly, but still nailing memorable melodies, some guy periodically bleating a bunch of nonsense. But don’t think this is some polished cuff-link rock a la Franz Ferdinand; Fire Engines keep on moving like nervous little sharks. Why stop to correct a mistake when you’ve got so much momentum built up? As they went along, they settled into quirky pop, but they never let go of their initial spark. We shall see if that still holds true, I suppose.
(Domino Records // www.dominorecordco.com)
Hospitals "I’ve Visited The Island of Jocks and Jazz" CD/LP
I come to the Hospitals relatively unscarred. Wanted to check the debut but never did, missed ‘em when they played my town cuz I was too busy traipsing around Europe like a dandy, and I definitely didn’t have the dedication to track down the Rich People 12” on Yakisakana that was mostly covers (of cool shit like Harry Pussy, Homosexuals, and The Who). Well, that’s OK, cuz I saw ‘em recently and they were pretty good, nothing earth-shattering, but it intrigued me enough to scoop up their new one. I also admit to being intrigued by a band that could move from In The Red to Load, arguably two of the best contemporary underground rock labels in the US. To the layman eye these labels appear to be on divergent paths, but go fuck your duck cuz Human Eye could also easily be on Load and Lightning Bolt recently appeared on a Guitar Wolf tribute comp. So, if my peanut butter tastes funky in your chocolate, maybe you need to redefine your palate, eh, mon ami?
How’s the rec, you ask? Not too shabby. It took a minute for it to sink in. Sure, there is plenty of disconnected, semi-interesting hoo-haw laying around like dirty laundry; hell, that’s half of the record (clocking at 24:46, it’s not exactly an epic). But then there are monster stompers like the aforementioned “Rich People” and “She’s Not There.” Sometimes drummer/singer Adam Stonehouse is a little too enamored with the sound of his voice through analog delay, but this is balanced by a suitably nihilistic and misanthropic atmosphere. Much of this atmosphere appears to be the work of producer (probably hates that term) Chris Woodhouse, who has yet to make a bad sounding record (that I’ve heard atleast). At first, the record seems muddy and washed-out, but once you adapt to the wet rag drumming and vacuum guitars, you begin to feel as if you are trapped in a closet that is slowly filling with dark swamp water. The second half of the record highlights the sing-songy rant “Problems.” Most of the album features Ned Meiners (also of So So Many Jabs at Their Band), but previous guitarist Jon Dwyer (formerly of Coachwhips) shows up on “She’s Not There” and the odd-timed yet tuneful plod of “Be.”
(Load Records // www.loadrecords.com)
Made in Mexico "Zodiac Zoo" CD/LP
Chicago’s Skin Graft record label has been very quiet since the turn of the millenia. Maybe it was tired; you would be to if you had spent the previous decade redefining noise rock. Now it is trying to rear its four-colored head again. A couple lackluster releases last year didn’t promise much, but Made in Mexico comes a little closer. Featuring Jeff Schneider, former guitarist of Arab On Radar, these guys start off strong with “Farewell Myth,” which opens as a raga then bursts into a punishing forward groove that recalls the Jesus Lizard circa ‘Goat.’ The rhythm section sounds great on this recording, but too often they wade around in the same area of the pool. “Clockwork” introduces a slightly funkier approach coupled with Schneider’s US Maple-after-a-case-of-Red-Bull guitar, but it’s back to the same old dirge on the next song. Rebecca Mitchell’s infrequent vocals don’t add much to the proceedings, but they don’t really get in the way either. She lets out some nice shrieks to accompany the frantic blur of “Napalm Springs,” which is followed by a cover of MX-80 Sound’s “Face of the Earth” that reveals the one-dimensional bones of Made in Mexico. Maybe it’s just the dry recording and these guys might really come at you in a live setting. Too often, the songs are content to just sit there, never quite exploding or pummeling you as hard or as fast as you want. At its best, Made in Mexico conjure visions of a hardcore Art Bears, which is an intriguing proposition, so we’ll see how they do on the next one.
(Skin Graft Records // www.skingraftrecords.com)
Old Time Relijun "2012" CD
There’s something so right about Old Time Relijun. To most ears there probably appears to be something really horribly terribly wrong with said combo, but if those ears are looking for true American primitive stomp, well, Hasil Adkins is dead and it’s a new millennium. This is OTR seventh full-length, sixth for K, and they just keep on howling away. OTR is the brainchild of one Arrington de Dionyso, who is somewhat of a backwoods scholar, a rustic punk cross between Harry Smith and Albert Ayler. He scratches furiously at the guitar, wails crazy speak-in-tongues musings about menstruating witch-women and the end of the world, honks and drones on the sax like a man possessed, and even engages in the occasional fit of throat-singing or jew’s-harp jawing. It’s a lovely thing. Meanwhile, drummer Jamie Peterson and upright bassist Aaron Hartman lay down thick, insidious grooves for Dionyso to do his thing over. Songs like “Wolves and Wolverines” and “Your Mama Used To Dance” split the difference between the Contortions and Captain Beefheart, all fidgety slink and creepy growl. The upright bass is an essential element, adding a real physicality to the sound. After nearly ten years though, Old Time Relijun is showing a little professionalism, smoothing off a few edges and nudging up the fidelity just a hair. But 2012 is just as potent a brew as their older work, not-so-quietly carving out place for themselves in some aspiring ethnomusicologist’s dissertation, and, hopefully, even better, some punk kid’s overactive imagination.
(K Records // www.krecs.com)
The Ex "Singles. Period."
To a certain segment of the world’s punk populace, Amsterdam’s The Ex represent one of the pinnacles of this sub/counterculture we love so dearly. Drop any notions of rock n’ roll glory and you may be inclined to agree. Over 25 years since their first release and they are still going strong, still vital, if not better than ever. Basement shows are all well and good, but how about a self-financed tour of Ethiopia and then leaving all of your instruments in the hands of fascinated and thoroughly-rocked villagers? That's some shit, as they say.
This longtime-coming compilation collects The Ex’s non-LP, out-of-print vinyl appearances from their first decade. Beginning with a host of short, sharp songs that split the difference between Gang of Four and the Minutemen, following their early line-up changes and a growing obsession with murky, noisy, almost industrial tracks, and back into the solidified line-up’s mastery of rhythmically shifting and guitar-destroying post-punk. These guys and gals never lost their edge and it’s a thrilling listen. From the frantic “Human Car” to the bitter humor of “Gonna Rob The Spermbank” to the anthemic pounding of “Stonestampers Song,” The Ex continued to challenge themselves and grow, setting themselves up for the radical makeover of their impending interest in ethnic musics. It all wraps up nicely with a great and appropriate cover of brothers-in-arms The Mekons’ “Keep On Hoppin’.” The informative booklet reproduces all of the original records’ artwork and has first-person accounts of each release and the evolution of the band. Essential for fans, highly recommended for the neophyte.
(Touch & Go // www.tgrec.com)
Scritti Politti "Early" CD
Ah, British post-punk, how I love you so. A time when the sexes were equal, inspiration plentiful, and the rules were being rewritten for rock and roll. The three lads in Scritti Politti decided to join in the fun after seeing the Sex Pistols and picking up a record by DIY pioneers The Desperate Bicycles. A classic start. Although they were influenced by similar artists as their post-punk brethren, Scritti Politti sculpted these influences into a new and unexpected sound. Nial Jinks’ busy dub-style bass contains almost all the melody, nimbly working around small clusters of notes. The drums alternately thump and splash, playfully ducking and weaving the bass. Scritti Politti was Welsh-born vocalist/guitarist Green Gartside’s (now that’s a name straight out of Joyce) brainchild, and his odd approach to both instruments gives Scritti Politti its uniqueness. The guitar is a trebly, wavering thing, like a shy butterfly attempting to land on your nose. His voice sounds preoccupied, as if he’s singing these elliptical lyrics to himself as he makes himself a spot of tea.
Between 1978 and 1980, Scritti Politti released a series of 7” EPs, each one a little missive to the outside world. Their political and cultural concerns played out to the faithful willing to decode these cryptic messages. On the epoch-defining “Messthetics,” they tell us, “We know what we’re doing,” as beautiful ramshackle melodies crash around them. In other words, don’t mistake amateurism for lack of passion. Gartside later shed the rhythm section and began trading in smooth, if skewed, R & B-influenced pop. But thanks to Rough Trade, you now have a nice lesson in early, unfettered inspiration from a few disconnected smarties.
(Rough Trade // www.roughtraderecords.com)
Battleship "To Give Not a Gift" 7"
You should be able to peruse an interview with the queens in Battleship somewhere else around here; wait, back a couple pages, no, yeah, right there. If you figure the music has gotta be better than that interview, then go pick up this 7" for a quick glimpse into Battleship mk. II, a primer for their forthcoming LP. "Two Horses Too Many" alternates harsh angularity with galloping hardcore that spotlights Bean's deep, Jah Wobbly bass stabs. "No Time For Love" is a breathless rant that comes off particularly well live. The recorded version lacks a little of the live bite, particularly on the breakdown, but you can still feel the self-loathing when Aleks demands that you realize, "I AM THE PROBLEM, I AM TO BLAME." I knew it was your fault, asshole.
(Double Negative // www.doublenegativerecords.com)
Be Your Own Pet "Summer Sensation" EP
Are these guys (and gal) on MTV yet? I have no idea, I don't get that channel, but I'm not oblivious to the point that I am unaware of the massive hype behind this young Tennessee band. Their debut full-length just came out, but here I am with the EP (most of which looks to be on the LP). Not oblivious, but definitely late. Oh well. Hey, am I lame? I dig this! First two cuts, "Bicycle, Bicycle," and "Girls on TV" lay down the law with frantic guitars 'n drum beats and Jemina's bold vocals. She's calling you out, not to fight, but to party. I'm down. Let's gather the bikes and 40s and get dirty. "Fire Department" is as good as anything the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (an obvious comparison) have written and twice as exciting. Love those vocal cracks on the "safety pin" line; in fact, just love the vocals period. They really take this band over the top. The next track tries too hard to nail the YYYs vibe, but that's OK cuz it ends with another fast one. There's elements of indie rock, punk, garage, but nothing dominates. It's like what really good "Alt-Rock" should be. But jacked up on sugar rushes and tight shirts; a soundtrack to your next front-seat grope session. If the youth of America are smoking first joints and giving/getting first blowjobs to this, Mika Miko, Black Lips, and other youthful miscreants, then right on.
(Ecstatic Peace // www.ecstaticpeace.com)
Black Helicopter "Invisible Jet" CD/LP
Really gotta wonder what Thurston's thinking here. He inks a deal with Universal to manufacture a slew of new, rock-oriented releases on his formerly record-collector geek label, Ecstatic Peace!, and proceeds to sign some real head-scratchers. Lemme throw out a few names: Green Magnet School. Kudgel. If those names mean anything to you, you are probably staring 30 down the barrel, or,more likely, can barely make out that sign-post in the rearview mirror. We're talkin early 90s indie-grunge, folks, Boston-style. This band features ex-members of, and, honestly, it would've really put 'em over the top if they had someone who used to be in Spore. So, let's cut to the chase. 'Invisible Jet' is one of the most boring, useless, monochromatic albums I have heard in a long damn time. It's just one mid-tempo snoozefest after another. There is absolutely not one dynamic shift over the course of the entire 47 minute record. You almost have to respect a band that can manage to capture a feeling, one feeling (ennui), and take it to its logical end (zzzzzzz). It's virtually mind-blowing. Imagine a generic "meat and potatoes" rock rec prepared by an English grandmother, ie. every last bit of flavor has been boiled out. Not even a guest appearance by Roger Miller can save this disc. You'd be better off scoring that Green Magnet School/Six Finger Satellite split for $1.50 at the shitty used shop down the street. Oh, it's there, trust me, right next to those Skin Yard CDs.
(Ecstatic Peace!/Universal // www.ecstaticpeace.com)
Erase Errata "Nightlife" LP/CD
Erase Errata's third album finds them reduced to a trio and playing with less ideas than in the past. With the departure of guitarist Sara Jaffe, singer/trumpeter Jenny Hoyston moves to guitar and their organic progression has been halted somewhat. Erase Errata still sound like a nerd-pleasing blend of Crass, Dog Faced Hermans, and Delta 5, but, unfortunately, the music has lost a lot of the rough n' tumble instrumental interplay that provided many of their more thrilling moments. Things start off promisingly with "Cruising," a nice slice of no wave disco, but any steam is quickly lost. "Another Genius Idea From Our Government" wastes some tasty bass with obvious lyrics and a frustratingly truncated song structure. Many of the tracks feel unfinished and rushed. "Tax Dollar" sounds like classic Erase Errata, but it just seems like two steps back at this point. A good band, but perhaps their time (and the style they helped revitalized) has passed.
(Kill Rock Stars // www.killrockstars.com)
Hella "Acoustics" CD/Zach Hill and Mick Barr "Shred Earthship" CD
Too bad there's already a band called Headache City cuz these guys truly deserve the tag. Mick Barr (Crom-Tech/Orthrelm/Octis/etc) is an absurdly talented guitarist and Zach Hill (Hella and a bunch of "super" groups) is a ridiculously amazing drummer, but they have officially vanished up their own rectums. They held a ceremony somewhere in Buttfuck, Idaho. Mick got an Eddie Van Halen splatter-painted guitar and Zach was given a mini-replica of Neil Pert's drum-kit. Then they fisted each other, much to the delight of the gathered hordes of off-set silk-screened-T-shirt-and-black-horn-rimmed glasses-sporting mega-geeks who chattered away like nighttime insects blogging about the coming apocalypse on their Black Berries filled with eye-popping graphics and wacky samples from Cartoon Network shows. Then, Zach and Mick recorded this album and everyone's head exploded with glee and their empty corpses were retrieved by the (that's right) Shred Earthship and transformed into bearded hippies who began frantically searching for obscure English folk records.
Which brings us to Hella, and their new EP, 'Acoustics.' When Hella's first record, 'Hold Your Horse Is,' came out in 2002 it really was the next-step on the evolutionary math-rock ladder. Combining Breadwinner crunch with Don Caballero innovation, a new dawn rose on the seemingly dead world of instrumental calisthenics. A few interesting EPs followed, then a backwards-glancing LP, then a double CD albatross that hung very heavily around this former fan's neck. Maybe I was getting dumber, but when the duo grew into a full-fledged 5 person band, I jumped ship. Their music became so dense it actually achieved the opposite effect of evaporating into thin air. I never went to college, so, y'know, I still like a little groove in my music. The OG members, Hill and guitarist Spencer Seim, scale things back here and actually give us a glimpse into what a Hella front-porch jam might sound like. All the songs performed are past favorites from 'Hold...' and 'The Devil Isn't Red.' It's refreshing to hear these guys not buried under stacks of effects and technique. These older songs contain tantalizing snatches of melody and twists and turns that compliment the music instead of obscuring it. Perhaps one day some enterprising nerd will compile an 'Anthology of American Math Rock' and this EP will bridge the gap for the old-timers. (5 Rue Christine)
Inca Ore "The Birds in the Bushes" CD
This long, periodically interesting, occasionally torturous, CD is mainly the work of one Ms. Ore and some dude named "Lemon Bear," all recorded in a secluded cabin in Northern California. Or something. It doesn't really matter, although you do get that "Forest Feeling" (as one track is called) at points. You also get the feeling you're stuck out in some abandoned lumber facility in northeastern Washington and you're being hunted by an owl and his talking tin can companion. And they're tugging a sack full of murmuring corpses behind them. The music is made with all sorts of rattling junk percussion, like a backwoods Neubaten. The vocals are sustained yowls, grunts, cries, and elongated shrieks like a chorus of dead Japanese children in one of those horror flicks they like to remake over here. Sometimes the demon-exorcising gets a bit much and it's almost comedic. Other times they hit the creep factor of Animal Collective's 'Here Comes The Indian.' You may have heard better examples of this Caroliner-esque cacophony, but this one'll do for your next camping-and-shrooms trip.
(5RC // www.5rc.com)
Mika Miko "C.Y.S.L.A.B.F." CD/LP
If you've ever been on MySpace you've probably heard of this band (50,000 + views!). And you probably mentally discarded them as a bunch of shit, as a "MySpace band," the lowest of the low. Well, let me ask you this: Do you like the music contained on Dischord's 'Flex Your Head' comp? Have you ever jumped around your room listening to The Slits' 'Peel Sessions'? Then I've got a record for you, champ. Here 'tis. Yes, indeedie, "early Slits crossed with early harDCore," it's a no-brainer, and it's a fun thing to do for 20 minutes. The first song even throws a head-nod at The Slits with it's title, "Take Her Serious," but it could just as well be a lost Artificial Peace track. There's really not much to say about this record, except that it might be the most fun hardcore punk record to come out in ages and it's just fucking good and it will put a smile on your face, unless you just can't get down with five post-teenage girls totally making you wanna pogo like a doof, steal Reese's Cups and Red Bulls from the convenience store, sneak into the neighbor's pool and skinny-dip, and then take a bunch of those dumb-ass photo booth photos with even your ugly friends and paste 'em on your bedroom door, and then go get a burrito.
(CD = Kill Rock Stars // www.killrockstars.com)
(LP = Post Present Medium // www.thesmell.org)
Mission of Burma "The Obliterati" CD
Sure, you've read every asshole's description of this record, this band's triumphant re-emergence, the finally-recognized genius of this most influential of US proto-post-punk bands (makes no sense, right?). So, let's focus on the details. Like how near the end of this CD, Clint Conley's songs begin to sound like the textured rock he has put forth with his other project Consonant's (quite good) two albums. The dude didn't play music for over 15 years and then he writes 3 albums worth of songs! And how Roger Miller, the intellectual of the bunch, has two songs on here ("Donna Sumeria" and "Careening with Conviction") that lock down some almost-dance grooves, while his guitar performs its casual brilliant tricks over top. And Peter Prescott's final contribution, "Period," sounds like it could have come from an early Volcano Suns record (high time that shit was reissued). Hell, now I wish I hadn't got rid of those Kustomized CDs. Prescott is the last true believer in the healing power of burly, tuneful noise rock. Someone give that guy a plaque, he deserves 20 bucks for every time he shouted like a drunk guy in a bar. I love that yell. He still does it, perfectly off-timed during Burma gigs, somehow shouting over their overdriven squall. It's enough to bring a tear to your eye, like watching the Minutemen documentary and thinking about what D. Boon would be doing now, the amazing things he would have come up with on guitar and the lyrics he would have written. Lyrics that cut to the core, through all the bullshit of "advertising psychology." Why am I talking about the Minutemen? Because Mission of Burma are back to represent fallen heroes like them; great bands lost to the sands of time and the uncaring general public. They are back for some sort of US art-punk/hardcore redemption, for all "the bands that could be your life." It's fucking glorious and they have now put out two great albums full of new, topical, and exciting songs, and it feels right. Better than right: Righteous.
(Matador // www.matadorrecords.com)
Negative Trend CD EP
Negative Trend! NEGATIVE TREND!! NEGATIVE FUCKING TREND!!! You make me cream in my jeans, Negative Trend. I love you in all of your twisted histories and myriad guises. Some people want to write you off as "the band those dudes were in before Flipper," but those dolts must have never heard you, because then they would know that not a single early (we're talkin 77-78, bitches!) US punk band could hold a candle to the incendiary power and reckless abandon in your music. First, with Rozz, you tore up the nascent Mabuhay Gardens scene, daring any onlooking civilian to get up close to the stage, daring them to be immersed in the chaos, the pure anarchy of out-of-control rock n' roll. You wanted to rub their faces in your frayed-knot lives, your sick, violent everyman thoughts. (Beg, borrow, or steal the posthumous 'The Pop Sessions' EP.) Then Mikal Waters joined and you honed your attack, started seeing the world outside the urban paranoia wheel you ran on, and that's where this CD comes in.
You might think that Henry Rollins ruined Black Flag (and I'm not gonna argue with you), but goddamn if that musclehead doesn't have great taste when it comes to fringe rock n' roll. This is a guy who reissued essentials like Gang of Four, The Monks, The Contortions, Devo, The Birthday Party, and more, almost single-handedly leading to and subconsciously nurturing several mini-revivals of various styles (but we don't have time to discuss that now). The point is, Hank has rescued this first, classic 7" EP from Negative Trend (also reissued on 12" by Subterranean in '84), remastered it, and slapped it on a cheap (5 clams) CD for all the sorely-lacking punks out there. Keep doing that stand-up, Rollins baby. And writing those horrible books. I don't care, if you keep doing things like this. You might be familiar with 3 out of 4 of these songs from Posh Boy's 'Beach Blvd' comp (and the 'Tooth and Nail' comp and a 7" and...), where Negative Trend had deadage teen Rik L. Rik singing these songs (and billed under his name, which is kind of a shame). And, honestly, Rik sang these songs better, but he had one of the all-time great punk voices, and Mikal does just fine, sounding less haunted and more pissed off ("RHODESIA!"). And the one song they didn't re-do, "How Ya Feelin'?," is a delicious slice of kiss-off step-over-you-in-the-gutter punk. These guys invented hardcore as much as Black Flag, Middle Class, or The Germs. Maybe that's why they sought solace in the nod-out nihilism of Flipper; they had already pushed it to the edge before others even knew where that was.
Noxagt s/t LP/CD
On their second album, "The Iron Point", Norway's Noxagt had truly reached a peak. A perfect meld of skullcap crush and frozen lake beauty, the album moved methodically between tracks of Viking berserker rage and calm-before-the-storm placidity. It was a striking sound, enabled in part by their atypical 'heavy band' line-up of electric viola/bass/drums. If John Cale had ever sat in with Swans (and he should have), this is the havoc they would have wreaked. Now Noxagt come at us with their third record and you may wonder, "What happened to that sawing, mesmerizing viola?" It's gone and so is its master, Nils Egra. In his place stands Anders Hana and his "spring loaded" baritone guitar. Some of that previously discussed finesse is gone, but it is by replaced an even more bludgeoning attack, with weird axe effects that jump out at you like a dragon in its death-throes. Records like this are quite functional in day-to-day life. You can drink, fuck, pillage (that's drinking and fucking), or dick around on the internet to this album, and there's no pesky vocals to draw your attention away from the nonstop sonic sledgehammer. Noxagt - Add it to your toolbox.
(Load Records // www.loadrecords.com)
Oneida "Happy New Year" LP/CD
Originally, this was supposed to be a triple-LP called 'Thank Your Parents.' Supposedly, that ambitious idea will still come to fruition, and if so, hopefully it will provide a few more highlights than this, perhaps my least fave record in the vast Oneida ouevre. It's certainly the gentlest, which may be part of the problem. There is a distinct lack of frantic organ stabs or marathon drum sequences or sweetly fried classic rock riffs drilling their way into your crainium. As they proved on their last full-length, 'The Wedding,' Oneida can lay down lullabyes for the forest nymphs as well as any furry freak folk ensemble. And as they've proved on almost every other album (and at every live show), no one can match their repetitive, acid-drenched trance-rock. This is by no means a bad album (I don't think they're capable). If you are a fan, I say you need it. If you are curious, I say head toward 'Secret Wars' if you need to grab onto something resembling reality, then you've got some serious work ahead with 'Each One Teach One' and 'Anthem of the Moon,' two masterpieces of latter-day US psych, and you haven't even gotten to the original band (w/ Papa Crazee) yet! I think they just added Phil Manley of Trans Am on guitar, so I can imagine we may be getting some fucked-up biker-rock soon (or maybe that Demolition Derby soundtrack they've always hinted at). Oh yeah, as for this record, I gotta say that my main beef with it, besides it's kind of there/not-there aridity (which works just fine in the post-coital state) is the ball-dropping on what should be the monster track, "Up With People." This mutant disco groove machine has been a staple of their live set for years, and yours truly pleaded with them to release it on a white label 12" w/ a super-danced out B-side version (ya know, for da club), but, alas, it comes at the end of side one and it just ain't the JAM. I mean, it's cool, but in no way does it capture the total hypno-groove I've seen them lay down on this bitch in various dingy rock clubs. Oh well, you can't win 'em all, and Oneida are winners, so don't get too comfy.
(Jagjaguwar// www.jagjaguwar.com)
Red Limo "Soulful Attack" 7"/CD EP
When I was handed this, I was told, "This is my garage rock band," but damned if these New York-by-way-of-North Carolina black-clad dudes don't sound like some old Raw Records band, complete with English accents and tweaked practice-space sonics. Maybe they don't even realize how much they sound like a second-wave second-tier Brit punk band, but I actually find it oddly refreshing. (self-released)
Seconds "Kratitude" LP/CD
Dunno what it is, maybe I've changed, maybe it's the growing uncertainty of the international geopolitical situation, who knows, but all of the new releases by Bands I Like are relegating them to the category of Bands I Used to Like. Take this Seconds record, for instance. Their first LP, 'Y', was one of the great recs of the "dance-punk craze." Hyper, addictive, sharp, clean, Minutemen-esque, it really brought the goods. Years later, and this part-time crew (main dude Zach is in Ex Models and other projects; drummer Brian Chase is in some band called Yeah Yeah Yeahs) finally get around to following that platter up, and it's just kind of...there. Sitting in the middle of the table, not exactly spoiling, but not exactly begging you to consume it with its heady aroma. Again, the album jumps the gate in fine fashion with "Moving," which sounds like an homage to DNA's "Not Moving." Or perhaps its sequel. Or evil twin. The yammering vocals, "slowly moving moving slowly slowly moving...", continue throughout the album, as if the studio has been invaded by dead Dada poets. Most tracks are repeating rhythms churning away piston-like underneath random shards of guitar noise (they call this approach Krakitude, but you could just call it "La Monte Young for Punks"). Call and response vocals disorient, but mostly just distract. Nothing is being said, but maybe that's the point. Seems like a lot of these bands have given up on Song, and are now just going for Sensation, which is fine, but they are not meeting us halfway. They are beckoning from the other side of the river, but it doesn't seem worth the trouble to get there.
(5RC // www.5rc.com)
Shoplifting "Body Stories" LP/CD
From the ashes of the original Chromatics line-up (before they got all death disco) rise Shoplifting, a mixed-gender combo who carry on in a classic P. Northwest art-punk stylee. So far they have released a 12" (pretty good) and a 7" (really good). Now comes their first full-length and what can I say, but "It's a mixed bag." Much like the first Chromatics LP on GSL, you've got some nice highs and some rather tedious lows. The second track, "Male Gynecology," is a creepy-crawling tale of some dude trying to make himself pregnant (I think). It moves along deliberately, guitars shimmering and odd sounds clicking away in the background. It's followed by "Talk of the Town," an inferior rerecording of the single's highlight. Some meandering instrumentals follow and the album doesn't pick up steam again until "Illegalistas," which bares a lot of similarities to "Talk of the Town," so it seems kind of redundant. The album was produced by the great Steve Fisk, and, on a track like "Syncope Riders," he gives the band the same sci-fi sheen he gave Unwound on 'Repetition,' but even excellent sound can't disguise the fact that there's not a whole lot of SONG floating around. And the band seems oddly subdued, unlike the 7", where it sounded as if they would beat you up for calling them queer. You could do worse in trying to resurrect the glory days of past Washington State art-punk, but this isn't quite there yet.
(Kill Rock Stars // www.killrockstars.com)
Tam s/t LP/CD
Another dud from EP! Tam is some chick who bugged Mr. Moore with home-recorded CDRs until he acquiesced and compiled this pile of crap. Ugh. Makes you long for the days of early Smog or Sebadoh, when lone freaks and their 4-tracks really had something to say, and a whole new way of saying it. Everything Tam says is in this wailing, off-key, bad-lyric, grating tone and I don't wanna hear it no more. When I looked at the track-list I thought we might have something here. "Artificial Love"? "Better Off Dead"? "Modern Man"? Is this a lo-fi homage to vintage US punk/hardcore? Nay, nay, it is an homage to the formerly wonderful idea that "anyone can do it." Yes, yes, they can. Thank you, Tascam. Thank you, Protools. Thank you and fuck you.
(Ecstatic Peace!/Universal // www.ecstaticpeace.com)
Functional Blackouts/Fashion Fashion and The Image Boys split 7"
Last time Functional Blackouts were through, Rob (bassist) seemed amused/exasperated as I drunkenly tried to explain what the FBs sounded like to my roommate. "They make you wanna kill people," I kept saying over and over. Well, they do. "Frustration" is a good kill-people song, which is followed by "1-D March," that features Wendy Monitor on vocals and makes you wanna kill your TV set. I guess they are multi-faceted. OK, Rob? On the flip, Fashion Fashion actually make out pretty decent, considering they tested my patience heavily at Horriblefest. Their two cuts of gutter-dwelling Pagan-punk is satisfying, with "Busted Life" making out best, but they still suffer from a mild case of that dreaded disease, generica. I think these are just about gone, so hurry.
(Florida's Dying // www.floridasdying.com)
Car Commercials "Grant's Dead" cassette
Car Commercials is Daniel Home Blitz's (and possible collaborators'?) down-home folk-concrete outfit. Trading in the high-strung pop of his day job, Car Commercials is a lonely, clattering, late-night phone call from the junkyard. "I've been thinking about this film I want to make. Lou Barlow kills Jandek, drags his body around, calls up Steve Stapleton to chat about it, then invites The Shadow Ring to come over and write a concept cassette about it. Fuck it, maybe I'll just skip the movie and make the music myself." I don't have voice mail, so I can only imagine what he really said.
(Leaf Leaf Records // www.geocities.com/leafleafrecords)
Imaginary Icons "Eye-Cons" 7"
New NY ensemble featuring booker prize winner Tom Dash on bass and vox and at least one dude from MHz. "Eye-Con," with its stops and starts and shouty group vocals, has some serious Homosexuals damage. If this was on the Astral Glamour collection you wouldn't bat an eyelash, and you might even throw it on a "best-of the best-of." B-side is a nice burst of moody synthy pop that pays respect to the possibilities of the early Eno sound. A great start for this new label.
(Daggerman Records // www.myspace.com/daggermanrecords)
Necropolis "The Hackled Ruff & Shoulder Mane" LP
Now you can imagine how much a hate to disagree with my elders, but this time I can't just bite my tongue. Respectfully, Scott, there is more to be said about this record. Do I love it? Kinda. Have I played it a lot? Yes. It is impeccably played (sometimes too much so) and it sounds fantastic. Also, it is perhaps the most loving tribute to Pere Ubu ever put to record. It's really strange. These folks are all over the map, but it works most of the time. You might be able to detect fleeting moments of weird dance-punk, particularly in the singer's Ex Models-esque spazzy yelp, but dig deeper and a track like "Colors & #'s" is a virtual explosion of frantic and brawny (yes) new wave with a synth meltdown at the end that sounds like a sonic loveletter to Allen Ravenstine. "Ultraviolet" has a whole section of dub effects and playing that actually works. The last song on the first side, "Innerspace," dips a toe in so many styles of rock n' roll it's kind of disconcerting, but it's not in any sort of Mr. Bungle way, and it really is the song, and it fits. The fact that it ends with a section that is equally Pere Ubu, Neu!, and Th' Faith Healers, just makes perfect sense. I'm really harping on this Pere Ubu thing, huh? Well, flip the record over and witness how everything begins to stretch out into avant-garageland. More off-kilter wave-slash with real solid rock chops and more turns into dub. But it's at the end when the worship/homage really makes itself apparent. "To The Bar" starts off like something resembling a rock song that you can see a hundred kids jumping around like mad to, then it breaks down and switches gears into a high-velocity trip where they directly quote Ubu, "out in the real world/in real time..." as it erupts with noisy soloing, screaming synths, crashing everything. The last song, "Cloud 151" (yup, you read that right; "Cloud 149"), might as well be an Ubu cover. This sounds like an indictment of this album, but it's not. I really like it. The fact that these folks are from Columbus, Ohio makes it that much more understandable and laudable. Based on this record, Necropolis are sure to make some street waves (nyuk nyuk).
(Columbus Discount Records // www.columbusdiscountrecords.com)
Pink Reason 7"
If you don't know who our friend Kevin (aka Vint) is, then you probably have a semblance of a life. If you do, then you spend time talking about dumb records with fellow nerds on the forum portion of this fine publication. That's OK, we all have flaws. And Kevin, despite his tendency to froth at the mouth over both mundane and arcane subject matter, understands this better than most. His solo joint, Pink Reason, is a means to come to terms with the shit we all wallow in, some more willingly than others. Kevin is unafraid to venture down deep, and we get to sit there in our cushy domiciles and ingest his findings. And they sound fine. This self-released 7" features a style-runnin gamut of sounds, from the nod-out strum of "Slate Train" to the seesawing electronic bells of "New Violence," which sounds like Skip Spence wandering into a Legendary Pink Dots recording session. The A-side, "Throw It Away," is especially choice, a moaning droning psych-blues with some nice, understated acoustic soloing at the end. Now inked to resurgent indie, Siltbreeze, and with a forthcoming 7" on Trickknee, be prepared to hear more fucked-up stories and haunted songs for awhile.
(Savage Quality Recordings // www.myspace.com/secondculture)
Coughs "Secret Passage" LP/CD
Coughs, I want to love you. We had such a great first date with that Bent Babies EP. We've got this like thing, this playful flirting, a couple quick but meaningful glances. All my friends love you and they think we'd make a great couple, but I dunno. I dig the sounds you make: oil drum banging and sax bleating and guitar scratching and bass pounding, but I just dunno. That chick you got hollerin and screamin kinda turns me off. I need more than one dimension, more than one feeling, to really get off, y'know? You could look at some sort of equation, like: Savage Republic + Ebullition hardcore + Load Records dayglo-noise = Coughs. It almost fits my dating profile, but there's something missing. Songs? A more graceful touch? How's your bank account look? Just kidding, I ain't no gold-digger. I really like the double percussion thing, but sometimes lack of a kick-drum leads to lack of forward motion, and I'm sick of standing in place. I like long walks down seedy alleys. I like watching rats scurry about. Sounds like you might too, but maybe you just wanna screen-print T-shirts instead. I liked you in the flesh, but maybe we should wait until the next album to consummate our relationship. Sincerely, (EEK)
(Load Records // www.loadrecords.com)
Foot Village "Fuck The Future" CD
Foot Village are an LA-based collective that revel in lots and lots of drums and shouting ridiculous lyrics mainly about people and places, like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Peru, and the Isle of Man. This CD collects several different vinyl releases from the last few years. The instrumentation is all drums, played vigorously but not particularly well, and chanted male/female vocals. Sometimes it reaches an impressive density as multiple kits are beaten into submission. Sometimes it just sounds like rejects from the high school marching band getting revenge on their classmates. Broken-up freak-poppers Weirdo/Begeirdo stop by for what is probably the most engaging track, "World Fantasy," but just when you think it's going somewhere, the bus stalls, and you're stuck out in the desert without a glass of water or a pocket pussy. Life sucks, huh?
(Deathbomb Arc // www.deathbombarc.com)
Hans-A-Plast "1" and "2" LPs
These two LP reissues are my favorite records of the year, and I don't know whether that makes me some sort of sad-sack nostalgia artist way behind the times or if that makes these guys and gals way ahead of theirs. Let's go for the latter, as these platters sound as fresh as anything coming out of the underground these days, or any day. If I there were a computer program that could design your personal perfect band (a la' Weird Science), then, for me, I'm sure it would skip the bullshit and spit out a couple discs by these Kraut-punks. Mixed gender membership? Check. Raw punk guitars? Hell yeah. Bouncy, spastic rhythms? Of course! Caterwauling in a language I don't understand? No doubt. Songs about Humphrey Bogart and consumer goods? Sho nuff. Occasional forays into girl-group balladry? Yes! Random overdubbed found sounds? Duh. And to think I had never heard of this band until friendly local record store clerk (ahem, manager) Prof. Snipes threw this on with one of those smiles that says, "You will love this and you now owe me your soul." Well, he was right, and there must be a special place in Hell reserved for me, but that's OK, cuz in that fiery pit they are nonstop-rockin Kleenex, Slits, Abwarts, Essential Logic, and Hans-A-Plast, and that sounds like a great goddamn party. These punks set out to be disposable ("Hansaplast" means something like Band-aid), but, like Kleenex or Wire or The Mekons, they instead became touchstones for an approach to the Punkly Arts that is still all too rare in this homogenized world. It's pointless to name highlights, because both of these LPs are virtually flawless. The first one (from '79) is "punkier," but the second one (from '80) is just as great. The second LP comes with the "Sex Sex Sex" single ('81) tacked on as a bonus, and they both come with cut-and-paste zines that further your understanding/confusion. If you have a taste for any of the aforementioned bands, then you owe it to your eternal soul to purchase these reissues.
(Re-Force // www.re-forcerecords.de)
Human Eye "Dinosaur Bones" 7”
Finally, some new Human Eye vinyl and not a minute too soon. I almost forgot who was the best and most interesting punk band in the US. There are some worthy contenders, to be sure, but no group is as simultaneously thrilling and mind-altering as these Detroit dudes. Throw away the comparisons to Chrome and the Electric Eels and Debris' and Simply Saucer, because Human Eye have entered their own time/space continuum and pay no tribute to no masters. "Dinosaur Bones" (brief aside: on the Gonerfest 2 DVD/CD their live track on the CD is billed as "Sly Glass Foam," but is in fact this number; also, how come no HE live footage?!) careens along recklessly, a frothing-at-the-mouth meditation on the future's past and the end product of self-extinction. It sounds like a vortex and should be playing over loudspeakers at the La Brea Tar Pits. The B-side was either printed wrong, or the sleeve is mislabeled, but, either way, it starts with a cover of the Urinals' "Hologram" that is different from the one floating around on the Human Eye demo a few years ago, and ends with "Shapes and Numbers," which rides a bi-polar sad/celebratory crescendo off into the sunset. Get. Now.
(Ypsilanti Records // www.myspace.com/ypsilantirecords)
Rose for Bohdan "Then everyone hugged "Racism is God"" CD
Brian Miller, he of the Deathbomb Arc label and many of its bands, is like some sort of art-chewing music-spewing man-machine. Not everything that comes out of this goose is gold, but ya gotta give him credit for working that ass. Rose For Bohdan is his "rock" group, meaning they sound like a bunch of art kids invading a Guitar Center, plugging everything in, and having a cross-store jam (well, this is something I've always wanted to do, but still). The electronics on here use some of the worst sounds you could possibly find on a synthesizer, but that may be the intention. The bass rides a sort of clean-tone/sloppy-math thing with occasional forays into amped-out feedback, while Miller's panicked vocals recall legions of West Coast screamo dudes, but it's tempered with some humor, as they don't seem to take things too seriously. There are songs here though. The first track, "Friends Forever," (an ode to the van-rockers?) constantly breaks down and jerks around, even quoting "Love Will Tear Us Apart" for no apparent reason. That's pretty much indicative of the whole record. Lots of engaging and even catchy parts followed by another part that doesn't make "sense" and is sometimes incredibly dumb. But sometimes those parts are of kind of rad, even if they're fleeting. Total ADD Destruction. (Deathbomb Arc // www.deathbombarc.com)
(Olfactory // www.thesmell.org/olfactory)
Roue' "Totally Fuckin Totally" 10" EP
In this man's (not-so-humble) opinion, Roue' (basically French for Bastard or Rapscallion, or something to that effect) are the best band from Cleveland, OH, and have been for several years now. Their debut album, "The Upward Heroic Motive", while having some production issues, was a beast of epic proportions. One major problem with that record was....no vinyl! They have addressed this issue by self-releasing this four-song 10". It opens with the Unwound-esque "Some Future, Some Despair," then jumps into "Soft and Easy," which starts hard and punishing, slides into a moody bass groove, then brings it home with one of their poppier moments. On the flip, "Totally Fuckin Totally" features the kind of full-throttle dissonant guitar melodies that Sonic Youth wishes it could still pull off. The last track "Spirit and Opportunity," opens with two full minutes of stargazing guitar before bludgeoning you with blast beats and anguished screams of "I need more power/bring me the water." Get the man a whiskey instead.
(self-released // www.roue.org)
The Stapler "Metaphysical Haircut" CD
One of the best labels going right now, Columbus Discount is bringing back the shit-fi sound of early 90s indie punk in glorious fashion. One look at The Stapler's album art and you know they love early Pavement and Guided By Voices and The Grifters and Archers of Loaf and Superchunk and probably The Fall, too. This is all fine by me. Am I nostalgic for my younger years spent discovering these grimy but oh-so-delicious sounds? Probably. Is this retro? Maybe. Am I being too rhetorical? Definitely. This record is good. It kinda peaks with the first two songs, particularly "Subway Tunnel Charm Bracelet," which uses a keening violin to excellent effect. Sounds like they kidnapped a music student from OSU, fed him some Drixoral Cough and Congestion gel-tabs and told him, "Play this, and if you play it 'right,' we will kick the shit out of you." "The Calvary Lasers" is like hearing a classic Superchunk cut through layers of silt and garbage. "Temple of Fortuna, Part Three" throws down some sloppy punk angst that sounds like maybe they've been paying attention to fellow Cowtowners, The Feelers. But really, it's just an expression of the eternal FUCK EVERYTHING vibe of the best mid-Ohio bands, from Gaunt to Monster Truck Five to some band on Burnt Sienna that no one's ever heard. The album was recorded by Jared from Times New Viking and it has that 'as heard by the upstairs neighbor from a basement two floors below' feel to it, which is just fine; occasionally what might be some sweet riffs get a bit lost in the hiss and in-the-redness, but that's the trade-off you make for being real. I like haphazard pop music made by drug addicts (see fellow townsfolk Psychedelic Horseshit). If you do too, then get this limited to 500 CD.
(Columbus Discount // www.columbusdiscountrecords.com)
Terribly Empty Pockets s/t 12" EP
More Columbo musings via our pals, Columbus Discount, and, woah!, what do we have here? Anyway Records split-release?! That's right, Columbus' premier indie label from the 90s, purveyors of all things cracked and lo-fi, co-releases this extended EP. But be warned: This is not your older brother's Anyway band; Terribly Empty Pockets are super-polished pop-rock. They recall literate 80s New Zealand pop like The Verlaines, The Chills, and The Bats, but there's a certain X-Factor missing that made the best work by those bands timeless. "Good for what it is," but I can't see many TB readers jumping out of their socks for this one.
(Anyway Records // www.anyway-records.com)
(Columbus Discount // www.columbusdiscountrecords.com)
Vampire Can't "Key Cutter"LP/CD
Vampire Can't is Vampire Belt, Chris Corsano and Bill Nace's two man drums/guitar/electronics wrecking machine, and Jessica Rylan's solo noise joint, Can't, combining forces for maximum destruction. The two Vampire Belt homemade CDRs were two of the better "organic noise" (what I like to call noise that is made using actual instruments) releases of the past couple years. Now, to be completely honest, I would listen to anything Chris Corsano did, including a field recording of him taking a shit on the White House lawn or even in your grandmother's backyard, so, there's that. He is surely one of the most inventive and powerful drummers currently walking this earth. Kind of funny then how much of this album reminds me of Mindflayer, Brian Chippendale's (from Lightning Bolt) noisy-ass drum/tronics project with Matt Brinkman. There's not much to distinguish between tracks here, as most are just balls-out (apologies to Jessica) noise-meltdowns with Corsano flailing away in the background. Not bad, but nothing really sticks in the craw. The last track, "No Strings," stretches the proceedings out to better effect, but it's too little too late.
(Load Records // www.loadrecords.com)
Creeping Nobodies/Anagram split 12" EP
The last few years has seen Toronto's fertile hardcore punk scene rise to international recognition, but there is more going on in that city than young kids channeling the speed and rage of early 80s US HC. Take The Creeping Nobodies, for instance. The name is a Fall reference, but their number one influence is the long-running, genre-bending punk of Holland's The Ex. With two LPs, a few EPs (including last year's excellent Half Saboteur 12"), and several lengthy North American tours to their credit, Creeping Nobodies are steadily building a rep as makers of quality records and an intense live act. Their side on this 12" features two extended songs that work like mantras with dueling male/female vocals, rattling chains, alternately chiming/slashing guitars and rumbling drums. Not their best stuff, but very worthy regardless. On the flip, the unknown (to these ears) Anagram impresses with two tracks of menacing post-punk that recalls early UK coldbringers like Killing Joke and Zounds. Not too far removed from France's Frustration and just as good. "Mt. St. Capt. Doom" throws some subtle squawky sax in amidst the pulsing bass and monotone vocals. "Manic Indulgence" is even better, lumbering along like a death train intent on delivering its cargo. All aboard!
(Blocks Recording Club/Dead Astronaut // www.thecreepingnobodies.com)
Brian Miller/Kevin Shields "We Had a Baby and It Will Die" DVD
Yeah, I wish it was that Kevin Shields, too, but it's not, it's some chick and the tireless Mr. Miller making some noise for 5 to ten minutes at a time. This DVD documents a West Coast tour of what looks like boring art spaces, which, un/fortunately, are the only kind of places you can get away with stuff like this. Give Miller some credit, though. His two main schticks at these performances are vaguely interesting. First, and best, is his "amp-as-instrument" tactic, which involves him slamming his two (assuming tube) amps together and throwing them around the room. This yields some cool sounds and keeps things visually stimulating. The other is him running around the room with a roll of duct tape and creating loops of stickiness to draw the audience in. Probably kinda fun if you're there. And this brings me to the real meat of the matter. Our world is becoming over-documented. Between the Internet and cheap methods of producing Artyfacts, we are destroying any notion of Time, Place, Moment, Present. You damn kids are taking this too far. When you document something that is purely meant to be "about the moment," you destroy what is inherently interesting about it. Instead of, "Yeah, I went to this noise show and this guy did [blank] and then he [blanked!]. It was fuckin nuts, dude!" Instead it becomes, "I went to this noise show. It was pretty cool. Hey, I'll send you a YouTube link and you can see what you missed." Maybe I am a cranky bastard, but we are all dying quicker then we'd like to think and I want to cling to the memories, embellished or not, and not have my life and what I may or may not have witnessed playing on some screen like a fucking Hollywood movie. Take back the means of production and dump them into the river. Do you think God watches YouTube?
(Deathbomb Arc // www.deathbombarc.com)
V/A "7" Up!" CD/LP
Last year, England's fantasticly-named Crippled Dick Hot Wax! label brought us a CD collection of (ex-Pop Group/Glaxo Babies) Maximum Joy's out-of-print vinyl output, now they present us with further diggings of the UK's once-vibrant post-punk scene. This comp covers similar territory as Hyped2Death's Messthetics series, and even though it is not quite as essential, it is still a worthy endeavor and a good purchase if the sound of disaffected Limey youth 25 years gone by is something that tickles your crippled dick fancy. Glaxo Babies' "This is Your Life," while not as innovative as their Nine Months to the Disco album (CDHW! please reissue this!), is still weird enough to please. Contact's "Constant Beat" is even better, with a great chorus only an art student from Manchester could come up with, while I Jog & The Tracksuits recall Tronics with their fey, home-recorded oddity, "Redbox." Gerry and The Holograms continues the creepy weirdness with their theme song, sounding not unlike Danny and The Dressmakers. Side 2 opens with They Must Be Russians' snarky STD-educational "Don't Try to Cure Yourself" (also on Instant Pop Classics). It's followed by Ireland's Moondogs, who, according to the informative liner notes, had both Ray Davies and Todd Rundgren slated to produce them plus their own Monkees-like TV show, Moondogs Matinee. Their track, "Imposter," is great power-pop as good as anything by The Undertones. Thomas Leer sounds like Howard Devoto covering Another Green World, Cult Figures get goofy and sarcastic like Black Randy and The Metrosquad, and Henry Badowksi is like a synth-driven Television Personalities on domestic ode "Making Love WIth My Wife." I think I just talked myself into loving this comp, and maybe you should too.
(Crippled Dick Hot Wax! // www.crippled.com)
Black Lips/Demon's Claws 7"
Part of Norton's ongoing Rolling Stones cover series (packaged in loving facsimiles of the original London sleeves), Black Lips turn in what sounds like a tossed-off version of "What To Do" (from the UK press of Aftermath). It ambles along alright, but I would have killed for their take on, say, "Stupid Girl." Demon's Claws, on the other hand, nail the slurred Irish ambiance of Beggar's Banquet's "Factory Girl." Unless you are collecting the whole series, I wouldn't say this is entirely necessary, but if you're a fan of either or both bands, it might be worth the five bucks.
(Norton // www.nortonrecords.com)
Black Time/Husbands 7"
So maybe Midnight World wasn't the ass-kicking world-beating noir-spiked punk rock thrill-ride you were hoping for, but it wasn't exactly dog-shit that you accidentally stepped in on your way to Starbucks neither (you fucking yuppie you). Black Time had been running through those alleys at a hectic pace and maybe they needed to run into a wall (and break a hand or two). A little distance did them good and their side of this West Coast (you fucking hippies you) tour-only (not really though, I got this at a store) seven-incher reminds you why you fell in love with these post-Riot modsters in the first place. "Downtown" is a bouncy urban rant with the whiny voice of Limey Caution reverbin over some almost psych-key action. Nice. "ESP Medium" is an instro the way they used to make 'em, drillin the beat but still catchy. "Charm Offensive" alternates its trad-garage verses with fast punk choruses. Husbands have always struck me as a novelty band, and their side doesn't dispel such thoughts. The Cramps-lite "Monster Party" was recorded live on WFMU which is.....fine. I don't think I need another cover of "I Idolize You," but if you do, well, here 'tis.
(Show and Tell // www.myspace.com/showandtellrecordings)
Bossy/Dirty Looks 7"
Two NYC bands featuring ex-members of Bent Outta Shape, a band I've never heard, but I see their name here and there, so maybe you have. Live, Bossy come off like the sort of decent indie-punk band that populated the underground landscape during the heyday of '90s indie rock. On record, they display some major K Records damage, the deadpan (female) vocals directly recalling Calvin Johnson, but they ain't quite (Beat) happening yet. Dirty Looks kick up a little more dust on their two cuts, but even the youthful enthusiasm of "Work in Progress" is not enough to save this slice o' wax.
(Salinas // www.unshadowed.com/salinas)
Times New Viking/Psychedelic Horseshit 7"
This split sucka by two of the current leaders of the lo-fi resurgence was pressed in honor of their short East Coast tour a few months back. Both sides are 33 rpm, so there's a nice chunk of music to chew on. On TNV's side, "Lover's Lane," which was recorded back in '04, hits the same noisy goodness as their Dig Yourself LP. "Common Cold" is a short hint at something bigger a la' Guided By Voices, and the newest of these songs, "Bad Looks," continues the winning streak.
The strange, garbled "modern folk" stylings of Psychedelic Horseshit sound like Bob Dylan tuning into a Fall-dominated John Peel radio show via shortwave radio. They even namecheck ol' Zimmerman on "No Soul 2" shortly after the graceful couplet of "I wanna fuck/and take a ton of drugs." Falling apart at the seams, these acid casualties are the sort of rejects you should be looking to for answers to life's mysteries.
(self-released // good luck)
Trashies/Hunchback 7"
Cross-country lovefest on this puppy. Trashies from Seattle give us a quick Devo-gone-hardcore sumpin sumpin called "Mongo Retardo" and then do a decent cover of "Sooprize Package for Mr. Mineo." Stab a motherfucker in the (hunch)back. Straight outta the Pine Barrens, New Jersey devils Hunchback lay down an organ-driven workingman's lament called "Sixteen Tons." They follow the format with a good but kinda puzzling cover of "Too Drunk to Fuck." We would've preferred their dirgy version of "Heart of Gold," but this'll do.
(Freedom School // www.myspace.com/freedomschoolrecords)
Wizzard Sleeve/LiveFastDie 7"
From the Deep Dirty Souf comes the molasses-and-cough-syrup spludge of Wizzard Sleeve. "Chrome Intensifier" conjures nasty thoughts of A Frames covering "Hamburger Lady" on a silt-barge. Hypnotic bass dirge meets clattering drum machine and moaning far-off vocals like some sort of chopped n' screwed version of punk rock. Get 'em to Houston, gather up some codeine, set up a sesh with the ghost of DJ Screw, and let's hear a new sort of "crossover." LiveFastDie are a bunch of poofs from the tri-state area who go by silly nicknames like Faghag, Bedshittalker, and Braygay. Oh yeah, cant forget Gozac Termbo. But they make some tasty punk, well, at least one of them does (think it's Faghag, but I can't keep it straight). "Armageddon" seems to be yet another song in the LFD canon about getting hammered past the point of no return, while "Pizza and Vomit" is a nausea-inducing bassy/tweaked vox number that almost lives up to their side of the cover art.
(Jeth-Row // jethrowrecords-at-yahoo.com)
3 cheers for good ol’ Hank Rollins!!!