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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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FIRE RETARDED:
High Horse: 7”
To date, I don’t think I’ve heard a band that sounds this much like The Motards. Seriously, this could’ve been on Empty Records, if the label still existed (RIP). Sloppy, fun, and fast garage, just the way we all should’ve been taught. Fire Retarded have the rolling, up-tempo, drum technique down pat. Like Nine Pound Hammer did once upon a time—though this group is less country-fried. Apparently, there’s a member of The Hussy in this outfit. And while The Hussy is great, they sound nothing like this single, so keep ‘em separate. Is this a new trend? Are more bands going to bring this sound back? I fucking hopeso.  –Steve Adamyk (Glory Hole, gloryholerecords.com)


FIRE EXIT:
Time Wall: 7”
Another reissue from Last Laugh, this time a one-off single from an obscure Scottish punk band originally released in 1978. The title track is a potent bit of slashing-guitar and anger-type punk and the flip, “Talkin’ About Myself,” is a bit more sloppy, introspective ‘n’ brooding revolving a two-to-three chord riff. Essential? Not really, but it is a good single.  –jimmy (Last Laugh)


FALL, THE:
Re-Mit: CD
Is it me, or does Mark E. Smith, with each successive Fall release, sound more and more like your drunk uncle hollering random shit while some band plays in the background?  –jimmy (Cherry Red)


ESPECTROSTATIC:
Self-titled: LP
An instrumental album by Alex Cuervo of the Hex Dispensers and Brotherhood Of Electricity. Compared to the Hex Dispensers’ fast-driving, Ramones/Misfits-concise stabs of songs that watershed around repeated phrases, Espectrostatic is almost the opposite on the surface—no words, long song structures invoking alien landscapes turning from night to day, sounds as overlapping textures, synthesizers with the keys depressed for stretches (and if there are guitars, they’re definitely not the focus). But there is some overlap to Alex’s previously released material. Same mind. Different production. There’s a walnut-sized part of the brain called the temporoparietal junction. If it gets wonked, it can lead to adverse effects, like difficulty making moral decisions and the production of out-of-body experiences. This record’s creepy, like unearthly fog billowing underneath the threshold instead of an axe splintering a door (smoke opposed to blood). It’s atmosphere, insidious patience building, marching, swelling, constricting, releasing. It sounds like the score to a movie set in outer space made by ghosts. Intriguing.  –todd (Trouble In Mind)


EPICYCLE:
You’re Not Gonna Get It 1978-81: CD
Just when you think that the Killed by Death series and its myriad of imitators has squeezed the last bit o’ goodness from the underground, another gem plops right into yer lap. Epicycle was a band outta Chicago that released several singles and an LP during the titular years, yet somehow have gone relatively unnoticed in the years since despite the adoration of early fans who went on to great success during the underground’s “grunge” era. The music here, culled from the aforementioned releases as well as demo tracks and one live cut, is giddily good from a band that gleefully defies any immediate assessments—just when you’ve got ‘em pegged as a buncha street hoods cribbing influences from the same records as the Runaways and the Damned, they wrench you in the earhole with rough and tumble power pop complete with twangy guitars and multi-part harmonies—and stands as another great example of an era when the whole point to “new” music was to experiment and create instead of playing to the same staid, cookie-cutter pigeonhole.  –jimmy (HoZac)


DUMBSTRUCK:
It’s Still Broke. The First Two Records: CD
No fucking brainer. Timely reissue of one of the 2000’s most underrated and overlooked bands. Post Ricord, pre-Violent Arrest hardcore ripping. While every old cunt from back in the day is reforming, Ripcord moved on, changed names, and still delivered. Sometimes we forget there are really talented people buried in the mire of punk and hardcore. Steve “Baz” Ballam’s resume speaks for itself, Ripcord, Heresy, Dumbstruck and now Violent Arrest. He is the master of channeling the sounds of Boston and Sweden into a melting pot that has since been rehashed through bands like Boston Strangler and No Tolerance. This is the backbone of Ripcord with a crusty singer. SSD and Siege filtered through the Varukers. The 7” is unstoppable and worth the price of entry alone. Again, thanks Boss Tuneage for delivering.  –Tim Brooks (Boss Tuneage)


DRUGLORDS OF THE AVENUES:
“Macgowans Seeth” b/w “Forward to Fun”: 7”
As far as I’m concerned, the gravel-voiced Johnny “Peebucks” Bonnel can front as many fucking bands as he wants and every single one will have a fighter’s chance with me. I’m a huge fan of the legendary San Francisco-based Swingin Utters, and the more folky, Pogues-inspired Filthy Thieving Bastards. As a side note, seeing the latter tour with the Pogues’ Spyder Stacey is one of my all-time favorite memories. Fans of any and all of the previously name-dropped bands and artists should not be disappointed by this release. Bonnel’s voice and writing are in prime form here, and the rest of Druglords Of The Avenues provide as good a backing band as anyone could wish for.  –John Mule (Pirates Press)


DOT WIGGIN BAND:
Ready! Get! Go!: CD
Dot Wiggin is hopefully a familiar name as the lead guitarist and front woman of The Shaggs. Ready! Get! Go! is Wiggin’s first new recordings in over forty years. For the uninitiated, The Shaggs’ (1968-1975) music was sonically more revolutionary than punk rock. The Shaggs were inimitable—true pioneers of outsider music in the rock era (although that was never the band’s intention—Wiggin and Co. were sincerely creating their own music from scratch). Unfortunately, they were too far out there to sell any records. (To get the band’s story, check the Internet or the outdated-but-great Songs in the Key of Z.) Ready! Get! Go! is a great album. Wiggin gets backing from people who can play. They support her well in most instances, only occasionally infringing/imposing on the uniqueness of Wiggin’s work. That being said, Ready! Get! Go! was tastefully done. If you’re a Shaggs fan, you probably already own this album. If you’re on the fence about picking it up, rest assured: this is another great album by Dot Wiggin that captures the uniqueness of her songwriting, done with great understanding and support by the band and the label. Wiggin’s imprint is still there and putting her in a more “musical” environment (the album includes a cover of “End of the World”) is rewarding. Way to go, Dot.  –ryan (Alternative Tentacles, altenativetentacles.com)


DIVISION FOUR:
1983 Demo Cassette: LP
Here’s what I was able to dig up about this bad boy: Division Four was an early ‘80s band hailing from Perth, Australia that managed to spurt out this, their sole recorded output, in 1983 before fading back into obscurity. The titular demo has become quite the collector’s item, so this reissue will no doubt be hailed ‘n’ huzzahed in certain quarters, and with good reason: the shit’s pretty danged good. Dual bass guitars, drums, synths ‘n’ vocals bubble and brood aplenty, but ain’t averse to getting all punky-aggressive on occasion so that their results are in just as good company with mid-’80s UK punk as they are with post-punk and the quirkier wing of the new wave. Fuggin’ choice listening here.  –jimmy (Smart Guy, smartguyrecords.com)


DIRTBOMBS, THE:
Ooey Gooey Chewy Ka-Blooey!: CD
The long-threatened Dirtbombs bubblegum album! If memory serves me correctly, Mick Collins’ original idea for The Dirtbombs was to have each release be a different concept. (Who woulda thunk the band responsible for Horndog Fest could have put out a pop record?) This batch o’ tunes is good, captures the spirit of ‘70s bubblegum rock, but Mick Collins has too much soul to write a true pop album. You can feel this even in the first note on the first song (“Sugar on Top”). The Dirtbombs patented fuzz is indeed present. “Crazy for You” might be the catchiest, taking you on a trip backwards in musical time, showing you how The Ramones put their own spin on bubblegum music. To me, the Beach Boys-esque trio of songs (“The Sunshine Suite”) was only good for one or two listens. I’ve often thought that the bubblegum genre is too silly and childish, relying heavily on double entendre. So with that said, the pervert in me hopes “We Come in the Sunshine” means something filthy.  –Sal Lucci (In The Red)


DIONNA:
Avenue X: CD
When I was fourteen or fifteen, the act of buying a new record was an instance of titanic financial and emotional investment. Like most kids that age, I generally felt pretty shitty and was staking a huge chunk of my liquid assets and also my complete short-term emotional well-being on the supposition that the record purchased was gonna SAVE MY FUCKING SOUL. Almost everything I had was riding on the wager that THIS RECORD WOULD BE SO FUCKING FANTASTIC that it would change my life immediately; my problems wouldn’t disappear, but they would be rendered irrelevant. My life would take a new and awesome quantum leap this way or that, and, once that occurred, pretty much everything else could kiss my ass. I’m thinking of the times when I dropped the needle in the groove of “Rock & Roll Girl” or “Cretin Hop” for the first time— HUGE, life-changing events, never to be repeated. I’m not sure why some horny loner fourteen or fifteen year old kid would buy this CD—other than the fact that there’s a girl dressed in nothing but an American flag and a goofy hat on the cover—but, if one did, and he plopped it on his music-producing device, glum and alienated and forlorn, and the first thing he heard was some punky rock diva growling “I WISH SOMEONE WOULD FUCK ME… TONIGHT!!!”—would it be one of those massive, life-changing events for him, where the virtual presence of some imaginary kindred soul suddenly shed light in the darkness of insanity? Would he bond to this record in the manner of how feral wiener dogs raised by mallards don’t know they’re not ducks? I think it’s possible. If not, I feel no shame in giving it the benefit of the doubt. I, of course, am too old and jaded to imagine I am anything but a feral wiener dog, so I think this mostly sounds like what I imagine L7 would have sounded like if Rod Swenson would have managed them and wrote their songs instead of doing similarly unto the Plasmatics. The one exception to this is “Come Home,” which reminds me that no matter how much “I wish someone would fuck me tonight” the punky rock starlets hit ya with, in the end, they all really only wanna sing “Me and Bobby McGee” anyhoo. Oh well, best of luck with the fucking, dearie. BEST SONG: “Tonight.” MOST PLASMATICS-LIKE SONG TITLE: “4:20 24/7.” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Marky Ramone plays drums on three songs on this record, but it sounds kinda like he was never in the same room with anyone else in the band when recording his drums…kinda like the instrumental break in “Dream Lover” by the Plasmatics! AHA! THE SMOKING GUN!!!  –norb (Rokarola)


DEZERTER:
Blasfemia: LP
Here’s a reissue of these Polish punks’ fifth LP, the original having emerged in 1992. Blasfemia contains no shortage of ripping solos and intricate basslines, rocking hardest when the band locks into these irresistible metal grooves. An atmospheric chorus effect cuts in and out, reminiscent of darker ‘90s hardcore in the vein of Inside Out. Robert Matera’s vocals are at once bitterly venomous and catchy as hell. Luckily for me, English translations accompany the Polish lyrics—I’ve read that some of their other translations have been lacking, but these are more or less on point. The lyrics are heavy with angst in the true sense of the word: the crushing anxiety of existence, a suffocating sickness that’s futile to resist. The sentiment is all the more powerful given Poland’s history of censorship and political repression. For me, the first truly cathartic moment of the album comes halfway through “Pierwszy Raz,” when Matera’s threatening vocals erupt into a seething, snarling rage. The rest of the album never lets up as it oscillates between haunting, metal-tinged hardcore and straightforward, melodic punk rock. If you’ve been sleeping on this classic for any part of the last twenty years, now is an excellent time to catch up.  –Indiana Laub (Pasazer, pasazer@pasazer.pl, pasazer.pl)


DEFEATER:
Letters Home: CD/LP
This five-piece Boston hardcore band continues the literary device around which they have built their entire band: the struggles of a family in the post-World War II years. It’s gritty and dark, with murder, guilt, and hopelessness. This is not a lyrically upbeat album. And yet it is all done in a mature manner. Many bands wouldn’t be able to utilize the device effectively, but Defeater does so in a way that makes me want to know more about these characters; I’d love to read short stories of these individuals. The shorter run time (ten songs in thirty-four minutes) makes each track seem urgent and important without being rushed. Defeater gets their point across and moves on to the next track all the way up until the closer, “Bled Out,” the longest on the album, that culminates with vocalist Derek Archambault yelling, “All I see is the bastard in me,” the same lyric that anchored the opening track, “Bastards.” Yet Letters Home isn’t a blistering album, as there is melody even if Archambault’s vocals are primarily screaming. Hell, when I heard the guitar at the beginning of “No Saviour” and “Bled Out,” I would’ve thought I was listening to something from Sonic Youth’s Murray Street. Joe Longobardi’s drumming is worth particular note, as it’s not only solid, but also at times complicated. He doesn’t just settle for fills in spots where other drummers might have done so. The point is that Defeater hasn’t gone soft, nor is their fierceness unbridled. Instead, they’ve found a way to put it all together just right.  –kurt (Bridge 9)


DEAD MOOSE:
The Night: 7”
Geez, guys, I guess all the good band names are taken, huh? Anyway, a reasonable outing by a Finnish trio that sounds uncannily like they’re fronted by Bruce from the Detonators. Solid enough batch of songs that are almost over before they start. Brevity helps, sure, but it’s all still a little unmemorable, and I really don’t think we need any more tunes about zombies, do you? Sorry, guys, gotta pass on this one.  –keith (Dead Moose)


DALAPLAN:
Self-titled: CD
As on prior EPs, these Swedes mix equal parts ‘60s beat rock and ‘80s new wave with modern recording technology and serve up with a combustible, beguiling stew that’ll get a body groovin’ and singin’ like a fool in a foreign language. Makes a guy wish American radio wasn’t so language-phobic, snooty, and irrelevant, ‘cause songs like “Paniken Växer” should be dominating the airwaves.  –jimmy (Gaphals, gaphals.se)


CUNT LICKER:
This Mess Is Home: CD-R
They call this their debut album, but come on guys, just ‘cause you put a hand-cut sticker label on a CD-R don’t elevate it from demo to album, especially with that boom box recording. Sorry, facts are facts! That said, this is something I actually wish I could hear properly. As you might suspect, this is in Antiseen / Hammerlock / Dwarves territory and with songs like “The Fuckin’ Song,” “How to Stuff a Taco” and “Drink My Life Away,” you know it’s time to crack a “cold Coors in a can” and use your favorite Yankee liberal’s picture for double barrel target practice. (Jokes, people!) Attention any Kentuckian with gear: help get these fuckers a decent recording! Also maybe a bassist.  –Chad Williams (No Hope In Hell, reverbnation.com/label/nohopeinhellrecords)


CRUSADES:
Perhaps You Deliver This Judgment with Greater Fear Than I Receive It: CD/LP
I’ve been curious to see how Crusades would follow up to their outstanding debut LP, The Sun Is Down and the Night Is Riding In. And their second album with an equally lengthy title, Perhaps You Deliver This Judgment with Greater Fear than I Receive It, is just as good, if not better, than the first. At ten songs (nine, if you don’t include the spoken word intro track), this thirty-three minute album is tight and punches hard. The band is still catchy as hell, which is really remarkable considering that the lyrical content centers around a sixteenth-century heretic, Giordano Bruno. Somehow they are able to take lines such as “Fear not the shaft; fear not the hunter’s aim: into the splendors of the living flame” and make them appealing. All of this just goes to show how well these four Canucks have been able to marry their metal and pop punk influences. The assault of three vocalists also impresses. The listener is never bored with one singer’s tone, as another one pops in on the next track (and sometimes even in the same song). They all complement one another well. The band certainly is making their metal influence felt on more than just some of the lyrics, though. There were times I heard Propagandhi (especially when the vocals and guitar were both exceptionally harsh), but Crusades stand unique in their lyrical content and preference to lean toward the melodic side of things as opposed to the thrash side. What I love about Crusades is that they are able to take my love for metal and channel it through my interest in pop punk (a guilty pleasure). While a normally carefree, often silly genre, Crusades make pop punk sound dark and slightly sinister. Perhaps You Deliver… is further proof of their unique place in the punk scene.  –kurt (No Idea)


CRIMINAL DAMAGE:
Call of Death: LP
Misery can be inspirational. Poverty can breed meaningful art. Criminal Damage play top-tier existential street punk. Instead of working class bravado, questionable nationalism, and gang stompers, they create a bleak, high-contrast grey and black world. Call of Death is also an LP of disparity between its words and sounds. Textually, it’s Orwell future-present. Tough and godless. Cracked concrete, cracked teeth. Never-bright skies. Broken cities. Empty cupboards. Solitary drinking. Fucked fuckedness of which the bad fucking has no end. Lyrically, it’s in line with early ‘80s peace punk, thorned with spools of barbed wire cynicism, then wheat pasted over with the sticky hopelessness of modern existence. Musically, however, Criminal Damage burn brightly like a lighthouse, shining a path through ever-quickening darkness. Rough, melodic barking is buckled to knifey, slashing, guitar work. Snapping drums give this batch of songs a rigorous and crisp feeling. The enterprise is reminiscent of Blitz, Partisans, Templars, Cock Sparrer, and Hard Skin. Good company to have, in my book. Great record.  –todd (Feral Ward)


COSMIC PSYCHOS:
Go the Hack: LP
Blunt instruments with outrageous torque moving cubic yards of dirt. There’s nothing pretty about the Cosmic Psychos, nothing complicated (fight, fuck, work, drink, lift weights, repeat) and that’s their charm. (One song’s just called “Pub.”) Go the Hack was their second full length, originally released in 1989 in Australia, and if there was ever a missing link between Lemmy Mötorhead’s no-bullshiting thud, mid-period Sabbath’s sonic rake of blood and tension, and proto-grunge, this’d be it. My memory’s that the Cosmic Psychos (formed in ‘82) and Beasts Of Bourbon predated what would happen in the Pacific Northwest in the early ‘90s, but since they weren’t ever as popular as their American counterparts (Nirvana, Mudhoney, L7, Soundgarden), that bit of grunge history gets glossed over in “official” reconstructions for sake of convenience and self-service, as should be expected. No matter. This is a welcome and timely reissue. Ross, Cosmic Psychos lead singer, continues to run his farm.  –todd (Aarght, aarghtrecords.com / Goner, goner-records.com)


COSMIC PSYCHOS:
Self-titled: LP
Re-mastered version of this Australian band’s debut LP that originally came out in 1987. I’d never heard this band before, but after one listen I realized I’d obviously been listening to bands that have been influenced by them for years. It sounds like the missing like between The Saints and The Sultans. I also feel like there are exact riffs that Sex Vid would later play. Heavy, plodding punk that hits you like a punch to the gut, and then drinks all your beer. Solid, rockin’ tunes with sporadic, nasty guitar freak outs.  –Daryl Gussin (Goner / Aarght)


COSMIC PSYCHOS:
Self-titled and Down on the Farm: LP reissues
How can you not love a band that sings about the joys of eating sausage? The reason I’m not including Go the Hack here is because I already own the original, and it’s in good enough shape that I don’t need to replace it. Strictly budgetary reasons, you understand. Looking at the cover of the Go the Hack reissue, the only difference I notice is the color contrast seems sharper. Anyhoo, this is the kind of Aussie rock’n’roll I dig. Hard-driving, meat and potatoes type shit. And beer. On top of being able to finally own these early records, I got to see the Psychos at Gonerfest 10, as they toured in support of the Blokes You Can Trust documentary. Hadn’t seen them since 1998! The self-titled EP is not at all what I expected. The fuzz bass definitely drives the songs, as in many of their songs, but these tunes are more groove-oriented, some clocking in at six or seven minutes. Down on the Farm, however, cuts to the bone and gets me where I need to go! Thudding rock’n’roll punk. Working class music by actual members of the working class (singer/bassist Ross Knight still owns the farm). Goner truly scored with these records.  –Sal Lucci (Goner/Aarght!)


CONTRAST ATTITUDE:
Black or White: 7” EP
Four bulldozing blasts of manic d-beat fury from these veteran Japanese punx. The metaphors for this kind of chaos are harder and harder to come up with but the music, thankfully, more than speaks for itself. Actually, the d-beat subgenre in hardcore as of late has been steadily impressive as is also evidenced by fellow ragers such as See You In Hell, Desperat, Kvoteringen, and Condition. Bitchin’ all around and worthy of those crumpled up, beer-soaked dollars in your camouflage cargo shorts, you filthy punker!  –Juan Espinosa (Insane Society, contrastattitude@yahoo.co.jp))


COKE BUST:
Confined: LP
Paint-by-numbers hardcore riffs and black-and-white collage politics can become pretty tiresome. The same sort of sounds and images have been recycled for over thirty years. Coke Bust, although treading familiar water, clearly obliterated the memo. They possess the doggedness of Econochrist and the vicious assault of hardcore trailblazers, like Deep Wound and Void, on the LP’s nine blitzing tunes (clocking-in under nine minutes). The songs maintain constant anger and pessimism throughout and never detour into cheeseball call-and-response territory. And it never feels like tough guy bullshit, even though Nicktape’s vocals make my throat itch. The longest song, “Red Line,” suggests more developed rage the next time around. Ultimately, it’s all supercharged stuff—albeit overly reverential—but, sometimes, familiar noises will suffice.  –Sean Arenas (Grave Mistake, gravemistakerecords.com)


CHIXDIGGIT!:
Double Diggits!: CD
So this month, my education in pop punk continues with this reissue of the band’s sophomore release, Born on the First of July, and its follow up, From Scene to Shining Scene,with about another album’s worth of bonus tracks tacked on for good measure. I mentioned my continuing education above as I purposely kind of steered clear of the genre historically and have been happily brought up to speed by the wizard who assigns review material at Razorcake HQ. As remorseful as I have been about my past finds, I am perhaps even more remorseful that I never checked these guys out sooner. Had I done so, I would have found that these guys came up with some positively mean hooks and have a knack for writing some clever songs without coming off as overwrought. Thankfully, they leave the three-part harmonies at home too, which is refreshing. I was a bit overwhelmed at the sheer amount of material on this re-release. While it’s clear that this is a great value—two albums and the bonus material on one disc—it’s perhaps a matter of having too much of a good thing. I found that listening to the songs as individual albums was invariably more satisfying than listening to the full package.  –Garrett Barnwell (Fat Wreck)


CAR 10:
Self-titled: 7”
Car 10 is Japanese pop punk with this sort of dreamy feel to them. That is really the best I can explain it. That, and although they don’t really sound particularly like them, I was reminded of the Bananas. It all adds up to another great bands that I had never heard before. Another win for me –ty (Snuffy Smiles)


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Arts Commission.
Department of Cultural AffairsLos Angeles County Arts Commission


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