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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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Sounds Too Loud, Lights Too Bright: LP
After a five year hiatus, the latest from this Brooklyn trio is here. For those following their thirteen year career and wondering if they tweaked their sound, rest assured this is more of the same hardcore, post punk formula. Pulling from Fugazi and Bad Brains, these veterans bring melodic hooks, gang vocals, and automatic fire drums. Some of my favs include, “Circle the Block,” “Theam,” and “Demon Gold.” If you need to liven up your record collection, pick this up. –Kristen K (Dead Broke)

Self-titled: LP
Imagine if the ‘88 straight-edge bands had more depth, and sang about things of merit, instead of their adherence to “the edge” and their “crew.” Though not a straight-edge band, Lieutenant definitely have that early youth crew influence. They sort of remind me of Youth Of Today, only Lieutenant aren’t a cheese fest. May be a little bit of Infest in there without being a clone band. The vocals are bellowed, a cross between Tony Erba, Ray Cappo, and Big Jim MacNaughton. The music is blazing and the guitar strips flesh off the bone from less than five paces. “Rally the Troops” is an absolute scorcher. Rapid fire delivery and intense as fuck. In fact, they really hit their stride from that song on to the end with “Do Not Remove the Tag.” I like the untitled instrumentals that close out each side as well. Changes the mood, but not the flow. This is one record you should really own. So damn good it’s not funny. –Matt Average (Peterwalkee, peterwalkeerecords.com)

Split: 7”
Lemuria: The cute-o-meter is pegged, the needle blipping into outright preciousness at times. But instead of developing musical diabetes or knitting a sweater for a posi-hug take on the world, I believe in Lemuria’s earnestness. And their two songs are catchy. Somewhere between The Unlovables, Defiance, OH, and Full Of Fancy? (My sweet-voiced, almost indie-pop collection isn’t vast.) Cheap Girls: I lived in one apartment for five years. Shit carpet. Fibers everywhere. When I moved and removed the clock in the living room, where a pin on the back touched the wall, it formed this elegant, intricate shadow of dust on the wall. The Cheap Girls songs smoke and smolder and get into everything around them. Cumulative effect. They dissipate and cloud, slowly staining everything they touch. That’s power and grace. Nice split. Good-surprised. –todd (No Idea)

Beneath the Wheel: LP
Confession time. Like anyone else, I only have so much time on my hands. I’m a big fan of Dear Landlord. Then about six months/a year, later after Dead Landlord had homesteaded in my ears, I heard about a band called Landlord. This doesn’t make sense, but I decided right then that I only had enough room in my brain and turntable for one Landlord band and made the pass on their previous efforts. I am a fucking idiot. I know this. Humans are irrational. Beneath the Wheel’s like mold behind a wall; the effects accumulate from extended exposure. First couple listens, I thought of the Cheap Girls—that restraint and mid-tempos. I thought of a brother band to the Hot New Mexicans. Mellow but not sleepy. Not shitty. I thought of some ‘70s rock that didn’t fuckin’ blow (with passing flashes of the Beach Boys). I thought of singer-songwriters I didn’t want to punch in the face and smash their guitars over the egos. Landlord’s lead singer has a wavery, watery voice. I thought of all the indie rock I’m glad I don’t know, but these dudes probably do. I get the best of that world; the distilled shit because I don’t know my Antioch Arrow from my Built To Spill from my Modest Mouse. I found out that if I just relaxed, cleared up my schedule, unclenched my jaw, and let the record soak into me like a bath tub of iced tea, that was the ticket. For me, it’s “Whoah, buddy, settle down. I don’t wanna think no mores” music… Now if I can just find the time to get around to Witches, who suffered from Witches With Dicks coming out before them... One thing at a time… (Okay, total fuckin’ tangent. I wish bands would somewhere kick back or thanks list the authors they reference. Beneath the Wheel was a Herman Hesse book, where the lead character drowns in a river after a night of heavy drinking. It’s no Skippy Dies, but it’s a pretty good book.) –todd (Recess)

Broke: 7” EP
The A-side is a two-chord anthem for every aging punk rocker whose body’s too pooped to pogo, but their souls are still stage divin’. Seein’ as those responsible hail from bands like Filth, Neurosis, and Dystopia, I think it might be a bit more truth buried in the humor. The B-side has a short bit of virulence directed on an unnamed annoying person and a cover of SOA’s “Public Defender.” –jimmy (Inimical)

Self-titled: LP
Sounds like this would be the perfect soundtrack for a David Lynch film, where everything goes horribly weird and wrong, existing just this side of hell. Think of a microwaved Birthday Party and Scratch Acid, with some garage rock thrown in. Plodding and lurching, pianos for atmosphere, and is that a clarinet I hear? This music doesn’t beat you over the head to get your attention. Instead, it requires a longer attention span and pulls you in with its seductive dark side. Allowing yourself to do so pays off. “Step N Fetch” is nearly poppy, contrasted with the song “Native Tongues” like “Swamp Fire,” which oozes and plods all at once. This is racking up miles on the turntable in these later summer days. –Matt Average (Hozac, hozacrecords.com)

Until the End: CD
Until the End doesn’t waste any time. As soon as the album is on, you plummet into some deep bass doom with the song “Cops Pigs Murders.” The guttural vocals deliver the lyrics to an almost masochistic degree of feeling: “Under their cleanness they’re becoming soldiers / under my calmness I’m becoming destructive / war is on, the state put me on the side of hate.”This sets the tone for the rest of the album. The tempo is usually a slow, bass-heavy, plodding rage but they fuck with hardcore, metal, and crust to keep things interesting. In spite of all the genres that I hear, it avoids the trite by-the-book trappings of any of them. The vocals are angry and throat-shredding, defying the apathy of stoned doom fans or the genre-damaged and insincere politics of crust. Karysun are so angry and heartfelt that there’s no doubting their sincerity. Take the lyrics to “Carved for Consumption”:“In despair, we trust anybody / we trust anything / In despair, we are ready to play any role in their game / to accept any illusion to escape reality.”While maybe not super poetic, they are delivered with such ire that they demand to be taken seriously. Until the End makes me want to go out and set cop cars on fire, but, more importantly, it makes me want to stay involved in the struggle and shakes me out of my passivity. I’m tempted to end this review with something like “see you at the riot,” but I won’t, because Karysun will probably actually be there. –Craven (Destructure, karysun.com)

Alright: 7”
The Junk make me think of rat bikes and choppers. Knowledgeable miscreants who take limited resources, cut off all the unnecessaries—all the gingerbread and fenders and guitar solos—to pure, quick-shifting, tire-spinning function. True rat bikes focus on the inward beauty and mechanical soundness, not bolt-on chrome or dentist-and-lawyer-approved paint jobs, not bright cartoons puffed up as motorcycles. The Junk are loud, running straight pipes, there’s no back seat, and the only chrome-like substance is the fillings in their teeth, exposed as they point and laugh in joy as they tear ass down the freeway when the straights and squares are stuck in traffic. Pure punk played well, with a sense of swagger and fun. Is true OC punk peeking its head back up again? I hope so. –todd (Hostage)

Boogie the Church Down: CD
From what I’m able to glean, one band is the alter ego of the other, with the “Juke” representing the secular, sinful side and the “Gospel” the quasi-sacred side, including what is purported to be a bona fide gospel choir. While the vocals are sometimes not quite as strong as they need to be to really sell the style, the music itself is a spot-on mix of swampy blues that, at times, comes damned close to conjuring the ghosts of Howlin’ Wolf and John Lee Hooker. –jimmy (Voodoo Rhythm)

The Inalienable Dreamless and We: LP
This instrumental debut album melds grindcore and math rock with the violin. Joey, a former public school orchestra teacher, utilizes the higher notes of his violin and foot percussion to create an anxious soundtrack that belongs in a Darren Aronofsky flick. This is the violin as you’ve never heard it before: disorienting, nefarious discord paired with thrashy guitar riffs. If that doesn’t pique your interest, this is only a fraction of the Molinaro experience. During live performances, Joey uses visual projections of handwritten thoughts and/or performance art to add a backdrop to his music. That said, just listening to the record is like getting only half of the story. I recommend checking out Joey’s website where he has clips of his performances to fully appreciate his work. –Kristen K (Inverted Music Company)

With No Due Respect…: CD
This band is from San Jose, CA, and contains ex-members of the well-liked defunct band Whiskey Sunday. On this effort, they crank out eleven songs of tuneful, melodic punk. While they don’t exactly share the same sound, I can definitely hear a Descendents influence here, especially in the vocal melodies (although the vocal delivery is far more gruff than Milo ever was). It’s a decent effort, and I’ll be curious to see how they mature as a band. –Mark Twistworthy (L’ecurie, lecurie.ca/musique.php)

Just Add Tears: LP
I can’t imagine life without The Dead Milkmen. From junior high onwards, Milkmen lyrics consumed a ton of my mental space. Joe Jack Talcum wasn’t the lead singer of the Dead Milkmen, but he sang some of their best known songs, including “Dean’s Dream,” “Methodist Coloring Book,” and “Punk Rock Girl.” I only saw the Milkmen live once back in the day in 1993 and they totally kicked ass. Their recent reunion shows I saw in Philly and Baltimore weren’t nearly as incredible, but Joe Jack Talcum always blows me away live when he tours solo. His sets feature a mix of old hits, as well as a slew of originals. He often performs acoustic, but the addition of backing band The Powders make the songs on this split all the more rocking. Talcum’s sense of humor shines through on each track, which Milkmen fans won’t want to miss. The flip side is from prolific Iowa City musical wizard Samuel Locke Ward, and it’s an awesome display of aggressive silliness, in the vein of The Bananas from Sacramento. Limited to just 500 copies, this LP includes a digital download and comes housed in a neat silkscreened cover. Don’t be a dick by only listening to it digitally. Vinyl is meant to be played, not shelved. –Art Ettinger (Grotto, grottorecords.blogspot.com)

High Anxiety Society: 7”
It’s always nice to get something for review that you were planning on picking up anyway. Even better when it turns out to be great! JJ And The Real Jerks play fantastic, mid tempo punk’n’roll that is really well done. “High Anxiety Society” is a great punk tune with a great chorus, and the other two tunes are good as well. This recording features Greg Kuehn of the Joneses on keys on one tune. Fans of that band or similarly-minded folks like Weaklings or Dragons—or really any of the Junk Records bands—will wanna be all over this. Here’s hoping they tour so I can see ‘em and sing along one of these days. –frame (Kung Pao Chicken Pickin’)

Exterminate My Generation: 7”
For some reason, I feel like I have heard this before. My intuition was correct. I had heard this before. Looked online to get some info and I saw a picture of this band’s discography CD. I had reviewed this for Flipside Fanzine, I believe, before its demise. Dug through the CD collection and there it was. This 7” contains the first eight songs, which was a session recorded between 1998 and 1999. Comparing the record and the CD, the record is grittier, with a heavier sound that I would expect from vinyl. The band was based in Houston and only lasted a few years in the late ‘90s. But what they produced was a strong hardcore punk sound that was fierce and charging. Well executed and short, to-the-point songs. Vocals are delivered with a harsh yell that are accompanied by background support by the band on the choruses. Forgot how good this band was. Glad this made me pull the CD out again from the monstrosity of what I call my music collection. They really had great material. If you blinked, this release would have not been sensed by your radar. It sold out quick. I know I did and never would have known of its release. A record nerd-worthy package. Only one hundred pressed with a silkscreened fold over cover, obi, and red colored vinyl. –don (Agro-Wax)

Still Sick: CD
Ramones/Queers derivative pop punk with the requisite nasally, obnoxious vocals. They’re proficient with their instruments, but stuff like this is a penny a dozen at this point. –jimmy (Saint Rose)

Demo: Cassette
Do you ever hear a person’s voice and feel compelled to rip out that person’s throat and inspect it with one of those eyepieces jewelers use to spot flaws in diamonds? That’s what I want to do when I hear the singer of the Fuddyduddys. Until I can actually see with my own eyes that there’s not a tiny leech-like alien hidden in there somewhere making the high-pitched, ultra-grating vocals coming out of this tape, I refuse to believe it is the product of a human being. This tape must be an alien artifact. –mp (Dead Broke)

Self-titled: CD
In the first song alone, the singer shouts “Oh man!” about thirty times too many for me to possibly enjoy any of the wank rock nonsense that follows. –mp (myspace.com/chrongoblin)

Homeward Bound: CD
Caves call themselves a raw, melodic pop punk band. I can certainly hear that in their music. It’s got a real rough edge with slightly off-key female vocals that, on occasion, pair up with male vocals, often in utilizing the “woah-oh-oh” method of delivery. Some of the dozen songs on here are catchy and endearing but others just seem uninspired and, after a while, it all ran together. I found a video online of the singer, Lou, playing one of the songs from Homeward Bound on the acoustic guitar and it stood out to me as being far superior to the rock and roll version on the album. It gave off a sense of introspection and a personal nature that I didn’t really hear on Homeward Bound. Perhaps I’m just getting older and mellowing out (although I did listen to Pig Destroyer and Cannibal Corpse this morning, so maybe not) but I’d like to hear more of the solo stuff. –kurt (specialistsubjectrecords.co.uk)

MCMXCV Masterbation Sessions: 12”
…i was initially listening to this thing and shaking my head in boredom, the songs were moving at a dull, midtempo plod and, overall, it was reminding me of the Fuckin’ Flyin’ A-Heads “Swiss Cheese Back,” both in terms of overall disinterest and in terms of being a record i really wanted to like but didn’t. It wasn’t until someone counted off “one-two-three-four!” between songs that i realized i was playing the fucking thing at the wrong speed. But it seemed so real! Anyway, while this does, in fact, sound much improved at the correct velocity – speedy, poundy, echoey mid-90’s Illinois garage ((although i suppose the fact that this was recorded in their basement, not garage, might cast some aspersions on the validity of that whole label)) – but, to be honest, crazy Sgt. Pepper mutilation cover art notwithstanding, there aren’t a super-gigantic amount of reasons to recommend this to anyone other than a devout Justin Champlin/Nobunny completist or someone with an unquenchable thirst for lo-fi garage rage. I mean, it’s cool and all to listen to – the band is definitely rippin’ it up on occasion – but it mighta been cooler as a cassette you dubbed me than an actual fancy-pants album. There really aren’t any Okmonik-like bits of catchy, repurposed genius or anything like that, if that’s what you’re looking for. Then again, i’ve always wanted to know what it might have looked like if the Rip Offs spun around to face the camera when they were pissing on that cop car, so there is, indeed, that. BEST SONG: “Hey Hey Sugar” BEST SONG TITLE: “Pussycat Burglar” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Group photos taken by Brad X, who owns a functioning Roy Clark cocktail pinball machine, and if Roy Clark didn’t keep the “cock” in “cocktail,” who did? –norb (Certified P.R.)

The Things That You Do: 7”
Obscure Bay Area punk from 1980. This is a really well put together reissue of their first single (comes with an informative interview with Dumb Records founder, and members of the band). Fans of Mutants, Catholic Discipline, early Tuxedo Moon, even Devo, will really like this. It’s arty, dark, noisy, and catchy. Some might call it “new wave.” Whatever. This is pretty good. As I listened to this I couldn’t help wonder why I had never even heard of this band before. Going off the two songs I hear here, I’m pretty certain BOB could have held their own quite well with the best of ‘em. The title track details the yuck of relationships, and the flip, “Thomas Edison”—whoever thought a vibraphone could be used so effectively in a punk band? –Matt Average (Rerun, rerunrecords.blogspot.com)

The Colors of Chaos: LP
This debut out of Alabama combines shock rock, goth, and good ol’ fashioned punk. If you didn’t know they were into BDSM by lookin’ at ‘em, the name of the lead singer oughtta tip you off: Miss Stress Tamantha. Like The Genitorturers, BRBB bring elements of performance art to their shows where they’ve been known to flog members of the audience. Part 45 Grave, part Naked Raygun, their awesome guitar work and galloping drums left me bouncing and bobbing. However, there were times I really wanted the vocals to be as punched up as the rhythm section. Still worth a listen just for the high energy and quality tunes; plus, the colored vinyl is sick: half blood red and half baby blue. Definitely recommended for those who desire a little more punishment in their lives. –Kristen K (No Profit)

Live on KXLU: CD
Most times, I immediately bristle at the words “instrumental rock,” ‘cause it’s usually a red flag for “I spent decades honing my craft and I’m gonna prove my musical prowess by using this geetar to jerk off in your ear for, oh, twenty-two minutes before doing it again on the second song, and so on.” Thankfully, Black Widows ain’t that kinda band. While there ain’t a word uttered in a tune presented here, they keep things concise, with the wankin’ low and the rockin’ up full. Hints of surf, garage, and other styles pop up here and there, naturally, but the sound remains consistently loud and well planned, and they manage to present enough diversity in the writing to prevent the seventeen tracks here from sounding like one big, boring blur. In all, this is one of those rare instances where the lack of yakkin’ really adds rather than subtracts. –jimmy (Vital Gesture)

David Comes to Life: 2 x LP
This album blew my mind the first time I heard it, and it gets better with each further listen. In many respects, this is Fucked Up’s magnum opus, a rock opera for our generation, the same way The Who’s Tommy was to our parents (or grandparents). Set in the fictional town of Byrdesdale Spa, U.K., the album traces the story of David Eliade and his relationship with a girl he meets named Veronica. The story is a classic archetype of love, loss, and recovery, set to some of the best music that Fucked Up has written. Every song on the album is brimming with catchy and dynamic riffs, capturing the feeling of the various parts of the story which they relate. Through it all, the fierce growls of singer Damian “Pink Eyes” Abraham, with backing vocals from Madeline Follin, Jennifer Castle, and Ben “Young Governor” Cook, carry the story from its beginning to its lyrical conclusion. If you were into Chemistry of Common Life, or any of the band’s Zodiac series of releases, you will be certain to love David Comes to Life, as it is everything those releases were, in a bigger and better way. Those who have never checked out Fucked Up should start here before exploring their earlier catalogue, as this album represents the band at their absolute best. Highly recommended. –Paul J. Comeau (Matador)

Arabia Mountain: LP
I had a moral dilemma when I bought this album—CD or LP? The LP comes with a bonus 7” but I own the rest of The Black Lips’ albums on CD and my OCD likes to have albums by bands on the same format. LP won out because of the extra 7”, but my decision bothers me every day! Some pre-release speculation I read hypothesized that this album would suffer from The Black Lips using a “real” producer, but it doesn’t sound “clean” or “overproduced.” The vocals are less muddy, on most tracks the drums are more prominent, and there’s extra instrumentation (saxophone, saw, I think I hear piano on some songs but there’s none credited), but, overall, it still sounds like The Black Lips. I notice a progression over the course of The Black Lips’ releases: the band seems to focus more on songwriting and less on chaos and noise, and the quality of the songs and hooks consistently improves. After seeing them live recently, a friend pointed out to me that the drummer is key to keeping the band’s performance together—not that he puts the kibosh on the rest of the guys’ shenanigans, but he reins the songs in and keeps them as songs. Most of the tunes on Arabia Mountain run the typical Black Lips gamut of bad kids having fun at all costs (“Don’t You Mess Up My Baby”) to the twenty-something existential desire to enjoy life while you can (“Time,” “New Direction”). “Dumpster Dive” sounds like a Rolling Stones piss-take on a country song with its exaggerated drawl. And I’ll be goddamned if “Bone Marrow” doesn’t sound like Screeching Weasel. I’m going to go out on a limb and say that no Black Lips review has ever compared these two bands. The chorus is total Weasel-style and if you replace the saw with Weasel’s pop punk melodic solo, you could fool almost anyone. –Sal Lucci (Vice)

David Comes to Life: 2 x LP
Fucked Up is one of those bands that people violently disagree about. For every person going, “They’ve gone soft compared to their first stuff” there is someone out there having their life changed by the music. Their fan base is that polarized. There is no doubt that there has been a direction taken in their songwriting that keeps building with every release, which leads us to this behemoth. A double LP “rock opera” or “concept album” or whatever you want to call it. The bottom line is that it is a ballsy, daunting undertaking that, like the band’s fan base, is going to go extremely to one side or the other. Well, I’m no expert in the world of concept records (other than to know that it is usually the realm of the like of Rush. Or Yes. Or Pink Floyd.) but I can tell you that Fucked Up grabbed my attention from the very beginning of the first record and threw me into it head first! The music is both energetic and beautiful. The hooks and grooves latch on and carry you away. Then there is Pink Eyes. His growl lies over top in a way that may seem uncomfortable upon the first listen, but it quickly makes sense. It belongs there. He is the storyteller and the characters. The songs convey the emotions involved in each act of the play. Upon following along with the lyric/story sheet (a necessity for a punk like me), my mind was blown. It was one of those magic moments that only happen when you hear one of your all-time favorite albums for the very first time! The hairs stood up on the back of my neck, my cheeks tingled, and I’ll be damned if I almost didn’t shed a tear or two. The band has created something that moves out of the average artsy punk or hardcore band and into something that I don’t really know how to describe. Now with all that I have said, you know that the very next review above or below this one could be saying the exact opposite. That is the nature of Fucked Up. If you already have an opinion of the band, then you already know what you will think of this. For me David Comes to Life will sit proudly next to my other favorite concept record Führers of the New Wave. –ty (Matador)

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