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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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M.O.T.O.:
Bolt!: LP
The first time i saw MOTO they were playing in a Chicago record store on some Independence Day or another, and, after making my way to the merch zone, i was absolutely gobsmacked by what i saw: Dozens and dozens—for all i knew, hundreds and hundreds—of different MOTO CD-R’s for sale. A fucking ocean of hand-lettered song-titles, crudely scrawled illustrations, and slimline jewel cases. MOTO songs, twenty at a crack, as far as the eye could see, in what might as well have been an infinite recursion. I was paralyzed. I didn’t know where to start. I didn’t know what to buy first. My brain shut down; i wound up not buying anything and spending all my money on Old Style® at Wrigley Field. Paul Caporino has written and recorded a fuck-ton of songs. A FUCKING FUCK-TON! I’d say the guy is legitimately up there with über-prolific street crazies like Daniel Johnston or Wesley Willis in terms of sheer volume of output, and the appellation of “the punk rock Guided By Voices” isn’t that far from the mark. This particular album is a re-issue of a twenty-song 1986 cassette, and is a stone hoot from start to finish. In addition to supplying the well-known “Dick about It” and “Month of Sundays,” “Bolt!” also houses a spate of equally mind-blowingly offbeat punky-poppy obscurities, like “Catholic World” “Destroy the Earth” “Killer Shrews” “Sickle Cell Express” and “Buckingham.” “Sickle Cell Express” is particularly amazing, in that if you woulda blindfolded me and asked me what year in which i imagined that song to be recorded, i would’ve said “1967, and probably on one of those ‘Boulders’ records!”, at least until it got to the part about Frank Sinatra shaving off his pubic hair. If you would have perpetrated the same schtick with “Buckingham,” i would have said “1971,” and, absent any references to the Chairman of the Board’s manscaping, would never have been the wiser. CONSUMERS!!! PARALYZE NO FURTHER!!! IF YOU ONLY BUY THIRTY MOTO RECORDS THIS MONTH, MAKE THIS ONE OF THEM!!! BEST SONG: “Sickle Cell Express” BEST SONG TITLE: “Walk Don’t Walk” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: The album cover looks like the Jolt® logo, but the original cassette cover looks more like the Flash’s logo. Where’s Sheldon Cooper when ya need him? –norb (Rerun)


LOVE COLLECTOR:
Human Bodies: 7” EP
The one-sheet describes ‘em as “Buzzcocks meet Bloodstains across Texas,” but I’m definitely not hearing the former in there (okay, maybe a smidge in “Non-Stop Love”). What I do hear here is some prime-grade sloppy trash punk very much in line with the Rip Off Records stable o’ noise, not too fast, but emphatic and memorable. –jimmy (CQ, cqrecords.com))


LITERATURE:
Arab Spring: LP
Indie pop with different little bits—‘60s jangle, ‘70s power pop, ‘80s twee, and ‘90s, well, indie pop—mixed together. The general mood’s upbeat, the songs well written and infectious. –jimmy (Square Of Opposition)


LIKE BATS:
Midwest Nothing: LP
Pop punk in the post-Hüsker/Leatherface/Descendents vein. Gruff vocals, a sly reference to U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday” in the first song’s guitar lead, and no shortage of lyrics about dysfunctional living and dysfunctional loving. –jimmy (Bloated Cat)


LIKE BATS:
Midwest Nothing: LP
Full disclosure: I’ve never been a fan of Lawrence Arms, and it is incredibly difficult to discuss this band without making the comparison. This is distinctively Midwestern punk rock with nasally yet gruff vocals. With that said, a couple listens in and I think I’m a fan. While a little under half of the songs fall flat, the rest of this album is top notch. Like Bats really excels when things get a bit more mid-tempo, a bit darker, a bit more melodic, and a bit heavier. Those moments are so much more memorable than their more straightforward pop punk moments. In my mind, this nine song LP would have made a killer four or five song 7”. Regardless, this record is worth picking up, and I look forward to hearing what direction this band chooses to go in next. –Chris Mason (John Wilkes Booth/Bloated Cat)


KING TUFF:
Self-titled: LP
Second King Tuff album, second of his bands to be on Sub Pop (the other being Happy Birthday’s 2010 self-titled album, which might as well have been called King Tuff with Synthesizers.) I never did understand the Sub Pop connection, as King Tuff always struck me more as a Burger Records type of laid back, white-trash-hep, small town-to-Brooklyn type. Shows what I know! Anyway, this is a pretty good pop garage record, not as immediately great as Was Dead but it grows on me with each listen. Mr. Tuff continues to espouse the slacker lifestyle with jams like “Alone and Stoned,” “Keep on Movin’” and “Loser’s Wall.” “Bad Thing” is my favorite. The packaging is nice; includes thick stock cover and a four page lyrics/art sheet. –Sal Lucci (Sub Pop)


KIDDA BAND:
“Fighting My Way Back” b/w “Saturday Night Fever”: 7”
I’ve already spilt copious quarts of seed in these pages expressing my admiration for the late ‘70s/early ‘80s UK punk-pop-power-pop of the Incredible Kidda Band; everyone in the world should obtain the “Too Much Too Little Too Late” double album, feast upon the band’s Starjets/Records/Pop Mullet ethos, and that’s that. Since i’ve heard all these songs a jillion times over, the various Kidda Band 45s being pumped out today are more like cool fan trinkets than actual Passports Into Awesome for me; this reissue of the band’s second 45 ((originally released in 1979 on Carrere Records)) comes in an authentic plain white sleeve in authentic black vinyl with an authentic pink label with “KIDDA BAND” and “Fighting My Way Back To You” and most of the other stuff written horizontally in black letters, and “CARRERE RECORDS” written in larger white letters up the side. I’m not exactly sure why i need it, but it does look nice sitting around the hotel pool with me, so i’m glad to have it on board. More snickerdoodles, dear? BEST SONG: “Fighting My Way Back” BEST SONG TITLE: Uh… i’ll say “Saturday Night Fever,” since that’s my favorite Devil Dogs album. FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: The A-side has a big “A” on it, but the B-side doesn’t have a big “B” on it. Weird. –norb (Last Laugh)


KID LITTLE:
Let Yourself Go: Cassette
A supergroup of sorts, featuring various San Pedro, California residents who also happen to be members of Killer Dreamer, Toys That Kill, Underground Railroad To Candyland, and others I may not be aware of. This is basically the sound of some jam sessions gone incredibly right between friends who all share a deep appreciation for bare-bones garage punk. You could hardly ask for more and should not expect anything less than the soundtrack to a rockin’ good time from these folks. –Juan Espinosa (Burger c/o Kid Little)


KEITH WALSH EXPERIENCE, THE:
Motorik: CD
I like music that leaves me wondering, “What the hell does this guy do?” No, not your band... I know exactly what your band does. You guys put beer in koozies and namedrop that guy from The Ergs! No, I like music that is so out there and wacky that it leaves you begging to know what the guy behind it does. For instance, The Keith Walsh Experience, a one-man band from Los Angeles who plays oddball, sci-fi-themed stuff and just kills it! Aside from thinking, “Jesus fucking Christ, this ROCKS!” what comes to mind while listening to Motorik is, “What does Keith Walsh do”? Does he lock himself away in his basement apartment reading old, pulp, sci-fi mags and comic books until he comes up with his next song of awesomeness? Does he wander
Hollywood Boulevard
mumbling to himself? Or does he stand on a soapbox preaching his anarcho-futurism? Then again, maybe he’s just another black leather jacketed punk. (Excuse me if I like my eccentrics eccentric.) But whatever this guy’s deal is and no matter how much I enjoy the mystery of it, it’s only aggregate to a magnificent whole. See, Motorik is just fucking brilliant. Each song uses sci-fi themes as metaphors for advancing as humans, both as a species and as individuals. It’s super positive in its lofty declarations. With an immensely engaging, deep late Iggy Pop baritone Walsh shouts his anthems, “Life is a mountain, better than a hill/take me to the valleys and let me get my thrills” and, “Yes, we are the Futurists!”, and it’s truly inspiring. He does this while battering a drumset with his feet, playing guitar, and—at times—even a harmonica all at the same time. He’s a visionary, I tell ya. This guy’s on par with all of the weirdoes like Doctor Octagon, Hasil Adkins, Frank Zappa, and Pere Ubu. If you’re familiar with Roctober, this is the kind of music they freak out about: weird music by weird people. However, don’t get me wrong, it’s not the kind of weirdness that you only play every now and then. No, this is infectious, charismatic, addictive, whackjob, utopian rock’n’roll you’ll come back to again and again. –Craven (Self-released, keithwalshexperience.com)


KAM KAMA:
The Tiled House: LP
I’ve probably listened to these six songs more than all my other review materials combined. It’s become my breakfast and bedtime record. It somehow manages to both get me psyched and calm me down. The cover of this LP is black and white checkers, so you can’t blame me for expecting ska, which I adore, but what blasted out of my speakers was even better. I can’t quite pigeonhole their sound, which is such a rare treat. I’d say it’s almost post punk, reminiscent of Joy Division or Echo & The Bunnymen, but with a real modern Whitest Boy Alive vibe. This is such a great batch of songs; I get excited just writing this review, hoping someone will actually check them out. I’m grateful for this music and its ability to make me dance around my kitchen or doze off as I cuddle with my wife. –Rene Navarro (Sister Cylinder, sistercylinder.bigcartel.com))


JOHN WESLEY COLEMAN:
Bad Lady Goes to Jail: CD
My first introduction to John Wesley Coleman was a very pleasant one. Masters level course in rock and roll on this here CD. John Wesley Coleman, like Ty Segall, seems to have a tremendously deep understanding and appreciation for the garage and psychedelic genres, particularly. No superficial posturing to be found, only finely skilled guitar work, reverb-filled lo-fi recordings, and incredibly catchy choruses. “Lazy Baby” with its honky-tonking drums, swelling organs and simple, longing refrain of “Come on lazy baby, don’t you wanna dance with me?” should get you singing along and shuffling your feet in a hurry. “Get High Babe” echoes the late ‘60s MC5 freak outs with its wobbling bass, jamming percussion, and screeching vocals. “Go Baby Go” mellows out with a Roy Orbison inspired vocal melody. “Come on Cops” is reminiscent of Meat Puppets, acid-fried punk with lots of twangy, Southwestern flavor. The closer, “New York,” is leather jacket, brass knuckle tough with a swagger akin to “Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World.” All told, there’s a lot to like about this here record. This will be on heavy rotation for a while. –Jeff Proctor (Goner)


JETTY BOYS / BOYS CLUB:
Jetty Boys Club: 7”
I do judge a record by its cover quite often, and a two-fold, screened cover (done by Andy Binder) ranks pretty highly with me. Jetty Boys: I’m just beginning to separate them in my head from the Leg Hounds, which isn’t really fair to them. I adored the Leg Hounds, so it’s a pretty big shadow I’ve left them standing in. They’ve held their ground, have consistently been putting out some of the best pop punk out there currently, and have every reason to be valued on their own laurels. The songs here are no exception. Catchy as hell. Boys Club: Good ol’ pop here (no power or punk attached). It’s done well, really well, actually, but it’s one of sounds that no matter how much I like listening to it, I’m certain I’d be bored to tears seeing it live. But, as recorded, I was really pleasantly surprised by this (plus, I love, love, love Warren Zevon covers). –megan (I Hate Punk Rock, ihatepunkrock.net)


IMPO & THE TENTS:
Don’t Give Me Your Number: 7” EP
Possibly the dumbest name since Hy Fructose & The Corn Syrups; probably the best record since last June or something! It sounds like Leonard Graves Phillips singing with a garage-edged but pop-savvy Scandinavian punk-pop trio made up of kids who were fathered by the Nomads at a Yum-Yums concert but don’t have the attention span to want to sound like either band. The longest song of the four is 2:07, the shortest is 1:34, which spells out “JACKPOT” in my book. It looks great, it sounds great, the vinyl’s all blue and cool, even the label looks cool: FUCK POS-T-VAC®!!! IMPO & THE TENTS ARE WHERE IT’S AT!!! BEST SONG: “Tonight” BEST SONG TITLE: “Don’t Give Me Your Number” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: The three members of this band are named “Yes,” “No” and “OK.” What, no “Better Not Tell You Now?” –norb (Alleycat, alleycatrecords.se)


IGNITION:
Complete Services: CD
Spiffy new 2012 remaster of the entire recorded output of this band. DC music pros offer up some killer post punk songs here. I’m not going to bore you with a history lesson on the band members involved. “I know what my anger means!” Indeed. This has been out of print for awhile, so grab it while you can. Essential listening—you betcha! –koepenick (Dischord)


HOWARD ZINN:
1492-1992—The Legacy of Columbus: CD
As the title suggests, this is a recording of distinguished historian Howard Zinn discussing Columbus, recorded in Madison, Wisconsin in 1991, on the eve of the 500th anniversary of his “finding” America. Less a recounting of Columbus’s life and exploits than a discussion of how and why he is contextualized within American history, Zinn examines how portions of that history have been omitted and overemphasized (the minimization of his subjugation and slaughter of native peoples and the highlighting of his nautical skills, for example) to produce a narrative that is more about protecting an unimpeachable image of the greatness of western civilization than about the man himself. Told with his usual aplomb and humor, backed by facts and figures that usually don’t make it into history books, Zinn sheds light into another of those dark corners that most Americans are either encouraged to ignore or not given easy access to in order to minimize the threat of too many questions being asked about who we are and how we got here. –jimmy (PM Press)


HOUSE BOAT:
Thorns of Life: CD
Is it possible to not really be a Steinways fan but be fully on board for House Boat? Some might say that is impossible. But maybe it all just comes down to the Mikey Erg factor. In any case, this is a solid platter of songs. “Pityscapes” and “Theme from House Boat” are the ones that will get some solid replays here at the secret bunker. Nice shout out to Pawtucket, RI on the back cover gentlemen. Well played. –koepenick (Traffic Street)


HITCHHIKERS, THE:
A Little More Time: 7”
There are three cool new songs from The Hitchhikers on this nifty slab of vinyl. A refined group with experienced members of The Humpers and The Bleeders, The Hitchhikers sound a lot like both of those other bands, but even more stripped down. The lo-fi recording does a great job of retaining what must be an exceptional live show. Definitely store this record indoors and out of sunlight. It’s a keeper. –Art Ettinger (Orange Fight, orangefight.com)


HICKEY, THE NAKED CULT OF:
Various States of Disrepair—Complete Works 1994-‘97: 2 x LP
Be cautious of music that’s too easily digestible, too easily folded into a back pocket of a scene, too easily smoothed in to color some gentrified hair. Be cautious of brain food that’s too processed. Be cautious of where your drugs come from. Caution’s a funny word because caution didn’t seem to be in Hickey’s vocabulary. A little rewind: Matty and Aesop started in Florida as the Fuckboyz. Pick up the Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? comp that Fast Crowd released several years back. It’s a perfect companion piece/precursor to Disrepair. Hickey experimented. Hickey destroyed. Hickey made universes. Calling them merely melodic DIY punk does them a severe disservice. Think drugs. Nudity. Scraping underneath. Escaping. Romanticism. Disenfranchisement. Food stamps and cocaine. Living at surface level. Anti-cop, pro-human. Anti-square. Pro-radiating hearts. Scams. Scam. Probe Records released their self-titled debut, which would turn out to be their only full-length release as a band. (It’s slated to be released separately from this collection of 7”s, splits, comp tracks, and live recordings.) Shortly after was the Hickey / Voodoo Glow Skulls split 7”. The VGS side is threats that the band and Epitaph employees left on Hickey’s answering machine. With all of these songs collected (for the third time, but with the D side of nine new, alternative, and live versions), there’s this tangible love-fucked relationship Hickey had with the world. “The straight and narrow road only goes to nowhere and I’m already there.” It’s a funny, scathing, naïve-yet-knowing cynicism. It’s an apocalyptic vision that gets “answered” with the serious-not-serious plea to join the cult of non-conformity. And jokes. And sadness. “Warning: guitar solos are known by the state of California to transmit venereal disease.” When all of these scattered pieces are collected and displayed with tremendous care (beautiful packaging, gatefold) the Hickey kaleidoscope becomes more of a telescope examining the cosmos of inevitability, especially when the credits have already rolled: “I have made my deathbed and now I’ll lie in it and finally get some rest.” “Life is cheap, but livin’ is expensive.” Hickey ended in 1998. Matty died of an overdose in 2002. But he ain’t dead, ‘cause he’s still living every time these songs get played, every time the Hickey continuum is rippling back and forth through FYP, The Bananas, All You Can Eat, Riverboat Gamblers, Fleshies, Swing Ding Amigos, Tulsa, Black Rainbow, Potential Johns, and the list goes on and on and on. “May you always have what you need.” Get your head right; listen to some Hickey. Which side you on?  –todd (1-2-3-4 Go!, 1234gorecords.com, mattyluv.com)


HAUNTED HEADS:
Self-titled: LP
Rock from Wisconsin. Rootsy vocal melodies sung in Posies-esque close harmonies. Music from the time in the mid-‘90s when mannered indie rock was mixing with post-hardcore to redefine emo. Think bands like Braid or Chamberlain, but played with an exceptional tightness. Dynamics are worked in well, strumming through vocal lines then countering them with palm-muted passages. After a song or two, I was trying to think of a tactful way to say this is a good record but not to my taste, but then I was like, “Fuck it. I like this,” and played it through twice. –CT Terry (Doubleplusgood)


HAT MADDER, THE:
Orgy Opposite: LP
Wish I could hop in the DeLorean and rev that sucker up to eighty-eight mph with this guy in my pocket. In 1994, this thing’d set off a bidding war between major labels all hungry for the next big whatever. They’d sign for a billion dollars, get a video into steady 120 Minutes rotation, have a song on the Empire Records/Mallrats/High Fidelity soundtrack, develop drug problems (uh, they probably already have those—BIGGER drug problems!), break up, and slip into obscurity, waiting to be discovered in the bargain bin down at the local record emporium. (Or at least on one of them mp3 blogs, anyhow.) These days, they can’t even aspire to that level of obscurity. Damned shame, really, cause this is a fine piece of vaguely grungy, semi-new wavey, (there’s keyboards, and I know these dudes love Devo) pop-rock goodness that ain’t gonna get heard by but a handful’ve people. “White Tornado” is catchy as shit and deserves to play over a scene where John Cusack is walkin’ around lamenting some lost love or some lovable scamps save the record store from closing, all while learning valuable lessons about life and fightin’ the man. –Ryan Horky (Good Time Gang, gtgrecords.net)


GRASS WIDOW:
Internal Logic: Cassette
Pulling from Lush’s signature 4AD sound, (think: Spooky), this all-girl trio out of San Francisco gently layer dream pop vocal harmonies, light as chiffon, on top one another. This, their third full length, is buoyed by post-punk bass lines reminiscent of Joy Division and set adrift with early PJ Harvey chord arrangements. “Milo Minute,” the first single released last year, kicks off with clean Sleater Kinney-style finger work and glides seamlessly into a late ‘90s era stripped-down garage melody. Beautifully hazy all the way to the end. “Goldilocks Zone” and “Hang Around” fit in perfectly on my lazy Sunday afternoon rotation. Recommended. –Kristen K (Burger)


GIZMOS:
Never Mind the Gizmos, Here’s the Gizmos: LP
That little post-Stooges, pre-Ramones historical notch in the mid-‘70s has never held tremendous interest for me—i mean, you kinda hear one band tuning in on the Dictators inescapable wavelength, you’ve largely heard them all. Thus, whilst i will cop to digging the Gizmos 1976-77 LP whilst having my first beer after almost a decade on the wagon a number of years ago—as well as owning an “Amerika First” button—i can’t honestly say that “Muff Divin’ (In Willkie South)” “Chicken Queen (The [Ass] End)” or “Gimme Back My Foreskin” have played a particularly huge role in my spiritual development over the years. A corollary to my slightly-above-lukewarm interest in the band ((as anything above and beyond a historical site of interest, you understand)), is that i really did not pay much attention to the band’s latter period in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s—where they try to be less of an applicant for coverage in the Teenage Wasteland Gazette, and more of a, you know, normal, regular ol’ punk band. I mean, hell, in the back cover liner notes, guitarist Dale Lawrence name-checks the Clash, X-Ray Spex, Vibrators, Jam and Boys as influences during this period, which seems like such an un-Gizmo-like assemblage as to merit deportation ((then again, if you live in Indiana, deportation is kind of a blessing)). Either surprisingly or not surprisingly ((as i have confused myself on this matter)), this album—conveniently scraping together the band’s “Never Mind The Sex Pistols, Here’s the Gizmos” ep, as well as their half of the “Hoosier Hysteria” album and a comp track, all ca. 1978-1981—is actually pretty fuckin’ serviceable as a regular ol’ late ‘70s US punk/power-wave album. The band wrote some pretty goddamn good songs—“Cry Real Tears” “Progressive Rock” and “Rock & Roll Don’t Come From New York” ((covered spectacularly in the ‘90s by the Problematics))—the playing was pretty crisp, and the occasional Gizmoism like “Chew it up! Spit it out! Show ‘em what you’re all about! POLISH SAUSAGE, SAUERKRAUT! POLISH SAUSAGE, SAUERKRAUT!” in “Progressive Rock” kept the band’s burgers-and-fries integrity at least partially intact. Kick me to the curb as a clueless cur, but i actually prefer these later efforts to the music upon which they built their empire ((although i used to have to eat Polish Sausage for supper every Wednesday and have thereby likely had my fill for life, and never liked sauerkraut whatsoever)). Geshundheit! BEST SONG: “Progressive Rock” or maybe “Rock & Roll Don’t Come From New York” BEST SONG TITLE: “Rock & Roll Don’t Come From New York” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: “Just A Little Insane” is, in fact, the Sex Pistols song “Did You No Wrong.” –norb (Vulcher/Hate)


GIVE:
“Petal Pushing” b/w “Taste of Smile”: 7”
Playing post hardcore jams with a rock’n’roll vibe, every Give song is catchy and loaded with epic guitar riffing, but on “Petal Pushing,” the band approach an even higher level of greatness. Not only is this track roaring with intensity, it’s by far the catchiest of all their tunes. The B Side track “Taste of Smile,” is a little more mellow, but equally awesome in overall quality. It’s difficult picking a favorite when Give has so many great 7” singles, but after only a few listens, I’d say this is the winner for me. Pick up any of their releases if you come across them, but if you have a choice, get this one first. –Paul J. Comeau (Painkiller, givemusical@gmail.com)


FULL OF FANCY:
Liquid Nature: 10”
I can’t be the only one who remembers Cub and Buck; who appreciates the Muffs, still has a soft spot for the Runaways. In one ear is a sweet, strident voice that can be lush and forlorn, both disappointed and hopeful. But when the speed comes, the guitars blister pop, roll out spools with barbs, and the drums crash and crumble in cascades. Think girl gangs in satin jackets (and two dudes) pull switchblades at a local bowling alley… then get really high in their basement and order delivery pizza. Knowing a wee bit of current New Jersey history helps. Miranda was in Hunchback and is now in Black Wine. Brian on guitar is now the vocalist for the Night Birds. Full Of Fancy broke up. Too bad. There’s a lot of depth on this record and it’s a good listen. –todd (No Breaks)


FRIENDS OF DOROTHY:
No Sex on Paul Fashion Street: 7”
Luckily for me, few if any people have actually been paying attention to my purple prose since I first started shooting off at the mouth in the pages of this magazine some ten years ago. Otherwise, readers might chafe at the fact that I’m once again going to happily gurgle on about another Henry Fiat-related release. But I will not apologize because my appreciation of the artist formerly known as “Sir Henry Fiat” is utterly without shame. It’s just that every so often you come across an artist—be it a musician, author, painter, pro wrestler, porn star, mime—whose work burrows deep into you like a bad case of heart worm. And I guess the Swede now going by the show-biz name “Paul Fashion” is one of those artists for me. Maybe it’s because it seems to me like he and I are on somewhat similar wavelengths. I like that he seems to go off half-cocked in such a brash and reckless manner—whether it’s in the context of Henry Fiat’s Open Sore, Sir Henry Fiat’s Bastard or now Friends Of Dorothy. This is not to say that everything to drop from his well-lubed pay slot is a golden turd. But for me, the flinchy, manic, Miami-style face-eating oddcore of the 7 inchers that were compiled into HFOS’s Adulterer Oriented Rock CD is still the trashy standard bearer by which I judge almost all other attempts at amped-up, garagey Electro-Convulsive Therapy rock, with or without mummy wraps. That CD was (and still is) the ultimate display of rash-causing rawness combined with Ritalin-starved hyperactive energy and a special hebephrenic queerness that can’t merely be chalked up to the fact that they are exotic people from a strange, far-away country. And while I’m giving vent to any stupid firefly of a thought that alights in my mind, why is it that the two undisputed Pervert Kings of Scandinavian Punk, HFOS and Turbonegro, never played a show together? I don’t know what amount of Aquavit and lutefisk it would’ve taken to make that happen, but I would’ve gladly distilled the potato booze myself and caught and soaked the cod in lye with my own hands to make that dream show happen. But enough about those glorious bands of yore; by now I’m sure that poor Mr. Fashion is as tired of being dogged by his Henry Fiat persona as poor old Fred Gwynn was tired of being forever thought of as Herman Munster. The happy news is that Friends Of Dorothy is yet another quality outing from the Swede: a four song sampling of Fiat-Fashion’s patented brand of hot, thrusting mongo rock that might be favorably compared to early Damned, but with “lewd and lascivious” replacing “cheeky and goth.” And with song titles like “Too Depressed for Success” and “Underachiever,” it’s as if this record was composed just for me. Well, me and Captain Sensible, anyway. This is about as good as non-iTunes music gets and is cause for much dimwitted rejoicing. –Aphid Peewit (Kenrock, myspace.com/kenrockrecords)


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