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VARIOUS ARTISTS:
The Songs of Neutral Milk Hotel: A Tribute: One-Sided 12”
Do I like tribute records? No. Why would I want to hear a bunch of covers of one particular band at once? If I wanted to listen to a record’s worth of a band’s songs, I’d put on one of that band’s records. Do I like covers? To some extent, and sometimes I even think they’re better than the originals (see 97A’s cover of 7 Seconds’s “Fuk Your Amerika,” F-Minus’s cover of Middle Class’s “Love Is Just a Tool,” or Watery Love’s take on “New Kind of Kick”). But tributes? Again, no. Do I like Neutral Milk Hotel? Well, over the years, I’ve come around to the Milk Hotel’s Aeroplane record. At one point, I found the record absolutely annoying—and those who touted the record even more annoying. And though I’ve come to like the record, I’ve never bothered to check out anything else by them. As such, I lack familiarity with three of the covers on this tribute. Although I lack knowledge of the three of the originals, like Aeroplane, they ain’t making me feel like finding ‘em. Regarding the other five tracks, they’re covers. None of ‘em really stand up to the originals. Got a folk punk take on “Holland, 1945,” which is Aeroplane’s best offering. Never fancied too much of the folk punk, and the take here foregoes the blown-out bass of the original. The other covers of Aeroplane didn’t leave much of an impression. However, the fact that Off With Their Heads were on here did make an impression. They toned down the already low-key “Communist’s Daughter,” instead of, as I hoped, making it all fucked up à la Meatmen’s take on “How Soon Is Now?” Nonetheless, OWTH’s choice did allow them to repeat the line “semen stains the mountaintops” several times. I mean, that line is how I make sense of them being on here. In the end, this is still a tribute record, a concept I could never get behind. Seems better to bust out a cover live or save that shit for a rarities comp. Here, none of the tracks are horrible renditions, which is about as much as you could hope for with a tribute record. So I guess it’s all right for what it is. But the shiny turd is still a turd.  –Vincent Battilana (Swamp Cabbage)


VARIOUS ARTISTS:
We’re Loud – 90s Cassette Punk Unknowns: LP

If you collect the one memorable song from all of your friends’ bands over the years, could you compile a really good album? I’ve often wondered where the good bands that made demos and never got noticed existed. It seems obvious there would be some even, if you consider the deluge of people who got into punk for the wrong reasons in the ‘90s during the great punk avalanche. One of the stars in the sky has to have a planet like Earth circling it. The same must be true of the boxes of blank tapes littering Goodwills and parent’s basements around the world. Punk demos, as you know, often go unnoticed due to a.) wrong place, wrong time b.) geographical restraints or c.) the band members get interested in other things and lose track of them. (And a lot of them suck, but let’s focus on the academic aspect of this just as a lark.) Boombox or four-track recordings were easy to produce back then, so why not record? It must have been easier before everyone decided to be so “professional.” But what to do with them? There was no real internet in the ‘90s, so bands had to tour or do mail trades. And then people lose interest in doing bands when no one pays much attention to them. Some will say it was a better time, but it’s my belief that the underground must continue to evolve and adapt. At least I hope so. But either way, here starts the Killed by Death/Bloodstains-style compilations of regional cassette bands. This is your time to become a historian, people. To resurrect the dead. It’s a call to dig out cassettes from every pocket and find the next overlooked punk phenomenon. It’s a call to record your band on an old 4-track and pretend it’s old. Or whatever you feel like. Cassettes are easier to fake than singles but harder to navigate.

I’m sure there are other cassette comps I’m not aware of, but if this is a flagship record it’s an inspiration. The styles of bands range from dirty three-chord punk to fuzzy songs with power pop sensibilities. The first song on side B “Look into My Eyes Sweet, Sweet Satan” by Les Fleurs Du Mal caused me to backtrack. It could be a lost power pop classic. The Van Buren Wheels’ “C’mon & Be Mine” is another three-chord stand out. There are plenty of wild, loud punk singles here, too. It’s very dense. I hope it spawns a long series of people being turned on and pulling demos from the fire.  –Billups Allen (Slovenly)


VARIOUS ARTISTS:
We’re Loud – 90s Cassette Punk Unknowns: LP
I have been looking forward to this release for many months, since the good folks at Slovenly/Black Gladiator leaked it online for just one day this past spring. Nineteen bands, over thirty songs, all somehow associated with one man, named Jaime Paul Lamb. Mr. Lamb either played on, recorded, or played on and recorded these songs on his four-track (pictured on the back of the record sleeve) throughout the 1990s. (All this while fighting a battle between heavy substance abuse and sobriety.) On top of that, these songs were all taken from cassettes, so it’s a miracle any song even survived, let alone sound as good as they do (credit goes to the mastering genius of Tim Warren, head honcho of Crypt Records, my all-time favorite label). All the bands have a Killed By Death-ish vibe, but still sound different enough that if you didn’t know that one person was involved with them all, you might not believe it. So many things blow my mind about this release, not least of all being that we’re at a time when the 1990s are being comped. Riky And The Butz win best band name. Van Buren Wheels apparently have more songs in the can, soon to be released by Slovenly/Black Gladiator. I highly recommend this record, even though some songs are “questionable”—the kind of questionable where one doesn’t know if they fall into the categories of “offensive for the sake of being offensive punk” (think Dwarves, Mentors, Moorat Fingers) youthful indiscretion, inside jokes, or just a bunch of assholes being assholes. You decide! Here’s my take: “Rip Your Cunt” (according to the liner notes, written by a guy who went on to become a Nazi skinhead, so I guess that shows he’s an asshole); “1-2-You’re a Whore” (according to the liners, one of the members disowns the band and doesn’t want his name associated with them, so youthful indiscretion?); “Community Cunt” (the liners muse on the whole “how come he can but she can’t?” debate, which doesn’t read believably); “(I’m a) Date Rapist” (according to me, this is just in poor taste as everyone knows someone who’s been raped. What a bunch of shitheads.)  –Sal Lucci (Slovenly / Black Gladiator)


VEGAS:
Da Capo: 7”
This single contains no information at all about who the band is or what the songs are. Had to go the internet to find out. One side has a quiet, acoustic instrumental and the other side has kind of a pseudo-industrial tune with “evil and scary” vocals. Is this what they call neofolk? Both sides are all right for what they are but not something I would ever pull out and listen to again.  –frame (Bezerker, xbezerkerrecordsx.bigcartel.com)


VIDEO:
The Entertainers: LP
All right, let’s check out the latest from the purveyors and creators of “hate wave.” Bring on the screech and squeal, the seething anger, the… piano and acoustic guitar? I have to be honest and say that I was a little concerned during the intro and the first minute and a half or so of the title track, then the groove kicked in. That fuzzy, sidewinding bass that drills into your brain like a rusty corkscrew. The understated muscle behind Video’s songs. It’s that loping bass that gives foundation to the squelch of the guitar and Daniel’s venomous sneer. The second LP shows us a slightly more put together Video—a band tighter in both playing and production. Like any cult worth its salt, Video finds a way to continue to appease their early converts while broadening the base to ensnare legions of new acolytes. This record should be finding new converts left and right. Hell, I’ve drunk the Kool-aid and I’m going back for more.  –ty (Third Man)


VOLUNTEER:
Self-titled: 12” EP
They say they have six songs on here. I say they have one, punctuated sections of silence. Between the brief reprieves of silence is some boring grungy post-hardcore that just plods along. Amongst the plods are effect-laden vocals that reek of studio-feigned emotion. With song titles like “Cobbler,” “Fuck Magicians,” and “Boxcutter” (but no lyric sheet), I can only assume that the lyrics are poetic (or nonsense), as I did my best to ignore what was coming out of the vocalist’s mouth. Thankfully, the record came with a note stating that these folks used to be in bands called Traitors, Gasoline Fight, Forstellaford, and Stock Options. I say “thankfully” because I have never heard of those bands, and thanks to the note, now I know not to check ‘em out.  –Vincent Battilana (Underground Communiqué, undercomm.org)


WARM NEEDLES:
Inconsolable: LP
“You either got into punk because you listened to metal or you were a skater.” That statement has been argued more than once over patio beers between the forty-plus punk age bracketers. Warm Needles could probably be easily relegated to Fest/Tampa/beard-punk by lazier catagorists. However, the four-string pummel and swell, the steady thump of the bass drum, and the guitar tone took me straight to the land of NWOBHM and the classic Judas Priest “Point of Entry.” Yes, there are singalong parts, some of which reach for the sky but fall flat. Others (“Severed Clean”) soar like the the grandest of RVIVR tracks. And yes, punkers will drench their chin growth in PBR during Warm Needles 3:00 PM afternoon Fest set. But me, I’m gonna make a copy of this album for the car and head out to the highway, ‘cause I got nothing to lose at all.  –Matt Seward (Tour Van, tourvanrecords.storenvy.com)


WARSICK:
WasteLand: 7” Flexi
Puzzling. A 7” flexi containing three songs from a seven-song vinyl 7”. I guess I should be thankful though, three songs of rudimentary, crusty d-beat hardcore played competently but doing nothing remotely original or interesting, is plenty. Good band name though, I, too, am warsick.  –Chad Williams (Rotting Head, rottingheadrecords@gmail.com)


WASTOIDS:
Dangerous Spaces: 7” EP
We’ve all heard that too much of a good thing is a bad thing. While I can’t say that statement is necessarily axiomatic, it seems to hold true for most things in life, including rawness. Wastoids are raw, but too raw to have any real guidance. Wastoids make these time changes that are so poor that it makes it seem like they are a different band, going from meh-hardcore punk band into a shitty hardcore band that never got over not being as tough as they thought they were. Despite the poor time changes and inept genre hoping, I ain’t got much to say. Of course, maybe all my misgivings are misguided, and I, like the title and subject of the final track, am “too weak for punk.”  –Vincent Battilana (High Anxiety, highanxiety416.blogspot.com)


WIMPS:
Super Me: CS
After a few listens, I think this EP is just okay. It’s certainly not bad, even though some of the first lyrics I heard from it are “I know this sucks,” though I guess they’re talking about working a shitty job—so it’s not great either. It treads the line of mediocrity, and I can’t tell if they’re being sloppy on purpose or if they ran out of studio time. There are many parts where the vocals don’t sync up with each other. “Sloppy Seconds” is meandering and chaotic in what seems like an intentional way (especially based on its title). Lyrically, there’s not much going on. Many of the lines just repeat themselves throughout a verse, which means they’re easy to learn. I think that Rachel Ratner’s singing is my favorite part of the whole record. And this is one of my personal pet peeves: there is no track listing, lyrics, or band member names printed anywhere on the release. But it does come with a download code! Maybe Wimps are better live because Super Me is not really too engaging; I find myself tuning out.  –Kayla Greet (Kill Rock Stars, killrockstars.com)


WORRIERS:
Imaginary Life: LP
Conviction without posturing, art without pretension—it doesn’t seem like it should be so hard to find bands that embody these sentiments, but this is a complicated, messy world full of flaws, tropes, and lies—leaving us little other choice than to soldier on. Embrace the bands that give us hope. Pay attention to the people who continue to inspire us. Focus on the truly exciting music that offers something to actually believe in. Worriers are easily one of those bands. They’ve recorded an album of tuneful, melodic punk that’s backed by pure righteousness. And above it all: I believe them. Now if only I can figure out a way to shut up all the goddamn bros and hate mongers so we can listen to more Worriers. –Daryl Gussin (Don Giovanni)


WYRMS, THE:
The Wyrms at Wizard Island: CS
What is this? Could this be the perfect road trip tape? The Wyrms are straight garage with a wee bit of psych. Think of a cross between The Pelicans and Thee Oh Sees but way less polished. This cassette is rife with fuzz and grit, the kind you get from actual lo-fi recording and not something meticulously produced to sound that way. I mean, isn’t that how it should be? Plenty of distortion and non-stop thrash and crash for those wretched soul-sucking drives down the flat, scorched paths of Highway 5. Or just whenever.  –Camylle Reynolds (Negative Fun)


YOUTHQUAKE:
Honey Wagon: 7”
NYC’s gender-bending rockers bring lots of glam but not a whole lot of substance. Granted, two songs isn’t a whole lot to go off of. Solid recording if a bit overproduced for my taste.  –Jackie Rusted (Bored To Death, deathbyboredumb.com)


ZAGA ZAGA:
2 Songs Demo + 4 Songs EP = Zaga Zaga 7 Inch: 7”
Super weird hardcore. The vocals are angry and piled up on top of each other. Musically though, imagine strapping the Descendents down to a table and getting all mad scientist on them, extracting all the super complex parts and globbing them together, and just throwing away all the melodic and heartfelt bits. Pretty zany. I hate the name of this record.  –mp (Kuskus, kuskusrecords.bandcamp.com)


ZAKARY SLAX:
Teenage Mutant: CS
Oh, Canaduh… you’ve given us Rush, Gordon Lightfoot, Crusades, and Unfun. Now Montreal spews out Zakary Slax, who,—like the lesser known Musketeer— might actually be the fourth Reatard. This is garage trash careening widely across the entire spectrum: the bratty bedroom recording of Childish (“Get Yr Shit Together”), Nuggets’ stomp (“DoBe”), Rip Offs’ distortion (“Complainer”), and Segall/Thee Oh Sees psyche-swaggering solos (“Stalemate,” “Disenchanted”). At a time when “musicians” and corporations are invading the garage and selling it back to the kids, Mr. Slax may be making it dangerous enough to take it back.Or burn it all down. Smoke weed, peel paint, off your parents… Zak would.  –Matt Seward (zakaryslax@gmail.com)


ACHTUNGS, THE:
Welcome to Hell: LP
KBD-style garage punk in league with the mutant hybrid bands that do it so well such as the Spits, School Jerks, Ratas Del Vaticano, and the Sleaze. No lyrics, band information, or much artwork to behold other than a live shot of the boys in action so that means you’ll just have to take a hint from song titles like “I Don’t Care about You,” “I Wanna Be Mean,” and “You’re Not My Friend.” If you like it raw, snotty, and short then the Achtungs are your cup of warm piss. –Juan Espinosa (Going Underground)


ALEX CHILTON:
Ocean Club ‘77: CD
A live recording of Chilton playing the titular New York club during the titular year. The sound and performance are stripped way down—I can’t tell if this is a great sounding audience tape or a barebones board recording—with him and a couple of friends running through some covers, some Big Star tunes, and a “new” song or two. The performance is fairly laid back on the whole, with some moments of potential radiance, such as on “September Gurls,” peeking through. Dunno that what’s here would convert the casual listener into fan, but fans will no doubt find much here to bask in.  –jimmy (Norton)


ALIEN TV / THE JIM TABLOWSKI EXPERIENCE:
Split: LP
Plenty of junk in this punk trunk! Alien TV is four cats arguing with each other which direction to take the band—Briefs? Scared Of Chaka? Voidoids?—not realizing they’re all right and they’re all moving in the same direction. Snotty, fast SoCal punk surfing the gutters of New York. But from Dortmund, Germany. TJTE spits out ten songs, none reaching the two minute mark, with a sound—and I don’t use these comparisons lightly—between Sexy and Elmer. Add one of the oddest set of lyrics and song titles and we may just have some sort of German genius punk release.  –Matt Seward (Spastic Fantastic, spasticfantastic.de)


ALPARCHIE:
Space Punk Vol. 2: 7” EP
Dissonant, spastic thrash stuff. Lots of free jazz influence pumped in, with wild time changes and stops interspersed throughout the songs.  –jimmy (Zaxxon, zaxxon.ca)


APPALACHAIN TERROR UNIT:
We Don’t Need Them: LP
This is Appalachian Terror Unit’s second full-length record, though they’ve released a fair amount of 7”s including a split with Oi Polloi, long time players in the political punk game. If I was in high school, or just getting into punk at any age, this record is a great snapshot of the world we’re living in. “Casualties of a Rape Culture” hits on some real heavy subjects that are so fucking important to be talking about. For most of the song the vocals are spoken, covering terrible things that are said to women. The track reminds me of War On Women’s “YouTube Comments,” with lyrics like, “You were drinking so what did you expect? Maybe not to be treated like a fucking object.” The next track is “Officer Down,” which doesn’t actually advocate killing cops, just the healthy distrust of the men and women in uniform. A few weeks ago I was walking to work when three cop cars rolled up on me because I matched the description of a prowler in the neighborhood. They found out I carried a box knife and held my arms behind my back for several minutes before telling me what was going on. An SUV pulled up, confirmed I was not the prowler in question, and I was free to go. This track became an instant catharsis for my own personal experience. The cover art of the record is a gorgeous scene of a punk utopia with bonfires, dogs, books, music, and loving punk parents, right next to a bone yard littered with crosses, TVs, skyscrapers, and cash. On side B there is one track that is the entire length of side A’s six tracks. It’s the titular track that describes every shitty thing in the capitalist society that we live in, as well as the place we should strive to achieve.  –Kayla Greet (Profane Existence, profaneexistance.com / Ruin Nation, ruination.org / Skuld Releases, skuldreleases.de)


BACHELOR PARADISE:
Feast/Fatal: CDEP
Twangy, slow, country-influenced indie rock. There was a song where I thought I heard Billy Corgan in the vocals, but, musically, this Sacramento two-piece reminded me of Silver Jews, especially their song “Walters.” The five songs are well done, just not something I’m super down with. If I’m going to listen to something like this, I’ll take Uncle Tupelo or Silver Jews.  –kurt (bachelorparadise.bandcamp.com)


BAD COP/BAD COP:
Not Sorry: LP
This band has been making a splash in the past year or two and it is not hard to understand the appeal. Who can really resist this brand of bouncy, take-charge California pop punk? The lyrics cover genre classics like heartache, self-doubt, old friendships, and hometown affection, to name a few. Frontwoman Stacey Dee’s snarky vocals, supported by plenty of squeaky clean harmonies, easily take the spotlight. The melodies are tight, energetic, and accessible to a fault. Probably too slick and polished for the purists, but, come on, don’t act like you can’t get down to some catchy bubblegum pop punk at the end of the day.  –Indiana Laub (Fat, mailbag@fatwreck.com, fatwreck.com)


BAD STROKE:
Dirty Hole: 7”
Man, I was so into this before I discovered it’s at 33 and not 45. Bummer. Amateurish, thrashy scuzz hardcore from Aarhus, Denmark. It’s not bad, but if I have to look at actual pictures of your balls and asshole in your artwork I better fucking love your music. You just can’t un-see that shit.  –Camylle Reynolds (Halshugga, halshuggarecords.tictail)


BANGERS:
Bird: LP
There is a palpable sense of despair as Roo Pescod laments, “I don’t feel like I’ll ever been clean again,” in the song of the same name, and it is a trait that prevails throughout Bangers’ latest release. Only the final track, “Partial Eclipse,” offers a glimpse of positivity—however the band offers a musical counterpoint to the depths plumbed lyrically, resulting in a lively and melodic album. Bird is the result of Bangers’ first time recording in a “proper” studio and the results are displayed with a more powerful quality than heard before. It is not like the band needed such a boost but it does add something extra to its arsenal.  –Rich Cocksedge (Specialist Subject, andrew@specialistsubjectrecords.co.uk, specialistsubjectrecords.co.uk)


BASEMENT BENDERS:
Self-titled: 7”
Basement Benders put out a seven-song cassette last year—fuzzy, singable, dirty—and by “dirty” I don’t mean nasty—I mean packed earth dirt and backyards, ancient outdoor furniture, sweaty coolers and what not. This current EP redoes four songs, two of which, “Pony Express” and “Train Song,” give an idea of Basement Benders’ range. Lyrically, “Pony Express” looks onto a familiar plane crash, pews, washed-out roads, the pony express, and, of course, radios, by which “you gotta be patient” while waiting for your requested Replacements song, which might never come, because how many stations even know who the Replace… Well, anyway, and the other track, “Train Song,” narrows the scope to one of the singer’s personas who is trying to balance a want for “cool clear water” to drink from as well as water to jump into “with a rock tied to [their] head.” So, right, kind of bleak shit. But somehow catchy as hell and uplifting, too. This four piece’s sound, which culls from their wide-ranging members’ histories—Cleveland Bound Death Sentence, Black Rainbow, Future Virgins, This Bike Is A Pipe Bomb, and the list goes on—is the ideal EP for your Mad Max picnic. Get your copy, pop a cold snack, and start choogling.  –Jim Joyce (Dead Broke, deadbrokerecords.com / Drunken Sailor, drunkensailorrecords.co.uk)


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