Welcome to Razorcake | DIY Punk Music | Punk Bands | Punk Rock Bands | Punk Magazine Welcome to Razorcake | DIY Punk Music | Punk Bands | Punk Rock Bands | Punk Magazine
 

























Record Reviews

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

| 0-9| A| B| C| D| E| F| G| H| I| J| K| L| M |

| N| O| P| Q| R| S| T| U| V| W| X| Y| Z|

Below are some recently posted reviews.

RSS Feed

M.O.T.O.:
Single File: CD
Oh, the magical salve of Masters of the Obvious. At its essence, M.O.T.O. has two basic modes. Ultra catchy, low-fi power pop and ultra catchy children’s songs for adults. Hooks as sneaky and barbed as the Jam’s. Stealth bomb melodies that rival the Beatles. I can’t say if Single File is as essential as the Buzzcocks’ Singles Going Steady, but it’s real fuckin’ close. Think of bubble gum left on a hot sidewalk and your ear as the bottom of a shoe. It’s almost impossible for these songs not to stick, no matter how hard to you try to rub them off. This collection is the ultimate comp tape of M.O.T.O.’s widely scattered bests from tapes, 7”s, imports, and out-of-print gems over the past twenty years. Even if haven’t heard one of these songs before popping this CD in, you’ll be singing “Crystallize My Penis” in the grocery store, or “I’m Infected” when you’re holding up a bank, in no time. It’s not an anorexic collection, either, and totals a beefy twenty-eight tracks. Essential listening. –todd (Criminal I.Q.)


LOVE SONGS:
All Branches, No Trunk: CD
Don’t let the name fool you, unless your idea of a love song is an ode to shaving your balls. Various Bay Area punk rock miscreants, including that one guy from Your Mother, join forces here for a goofy, fun album that sounds like punk rock without falling into a predetermined musical niche. It’s a lot like Toys That Kill, but less skewed and with lots of little guitar parts that make me think that somebody in the band is really into Iron Maiden. I love the artwork, too. Good stuff. –Josh (New Disorder)


LOVE ME DESTROYER:
Black Heart Affair: CD
I’m going to invent a new genre with this review: “punk noir,” or would “noir punk” be better? Stylish, moderately melodic, straight-ahead, three-chord punk songs about widows crawling out of the bottle and switchblades and infidelity and domestic violence. If Phillip Marlowe hooked up with Social Distortion and did songs written by Billy Joe from Green Day, this is what it would sound like. Not bad at all. –brian (Suburban Home)


LONG DONG SILVER/FILTHY JIM:
Split: 7"
If you like a more “YAY-UH!” version of Led Zeppelin, you’ll prefer the Long Dong Silver side. If you’re more about an “ah-EEEE-yaaaaa-AH!” (note: That was “The Immigrant Song”) version of Led Zep, you’ll like Filthy Jim. Me? Well, if this record was a breakfast cereal, it’d be a bowl of diarrhea with some of that new green Mountain Dew™ poured over the top. Taste the rainbow! BEST SONG: That kind of “Rock & Roll” one BEST SONG TITLE: Geez, that’s a four-way tie for first between “Junkie Cinderella” “Spank My Ass” “Tied to the Needle” and “Teenage Witch.” I am frozen in the presence of such circuit-frying brilliance! FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Somebody, somewhere, involved, knowingly or unknowingly, with this record, has the license plate 498-54L. Shun it. –norb (Scarey)


LISAFER:
Version 10.0: CDEP
More pissed-off, snot-flinging punk rock fun from L.A.’s favorite female power trio. And when I say pissed off, it don’t mean in the least that there’s not a whimsical element laying underneath it all, you jaded fuck. Lookie here at the lyrics from “Patty Loved Lucy”: “Linus hung himself/Schroeder broke his keys/Sally slit her wrists/And Woodstock fell from the tree/When they found out Patty loved Lucy… Snoopy went to the pound/A train ran over Marcy/Pig Pen drank some gas/And they locked up Charlie Brown/When they found out…” Because of this pneumatic rib-tickler, you’d think Charles Schultz is probably spinning in his grave, but his dusty corpse should be spinning for better reasons, like how Knott$ Berry Farm is rolling in a huge pile of money with all that Peanuts merch they sell. Whatever, Chuck… just lighten the fuck up and get your rock on, Lisafer style. This goes for all of you amongst the living, too. –dale (www.lisafer.com)


LEWD, THE:
Kill Yourself b/w Pay or Die/Trash Can Baby: 7"
Now here’s a punk rock chestnut, reissued last year to satisfy demand, I guess. I gotta say, though, I owned a copy of this back in my rabid collecting days, and when I put this new copy on, I totally didn’t recognize it, and a week later I can’t remember what it sounds like. Get it if you must, but it’s not gonna take your mind off those early Killed by Death comps. –Cuss Baxter (Rockin’ Bones)


WHITE LIGHTS, THE:
Self-titled: CD
How do I evaluate that which I know nothing about? Hmmm…This is sorta artsy, violiny music. I really don’t have much to say about it, other than I really couldn’t get into it. I tried listening to it a second time, and just couldn’t bring myself to do it – based mostly on the fact that the lead singer’s voice is really irritating. She has these really affected, purposely accented voice that got on my nerves. This is Cap’n Crunch – hurts the roof of my mouth – or, in this case, my ears! –Maddy (Worry Bird)


DECALS, THE:
Drive-By Kiss Off: CD
Wow! Its yet another “rock” album. I seem to be getting a lot of rock albums for review in my own zine lately – rock being defined as: a.) not punk b.) could be played in a bar. Nothing wrong with it, of course, but if I can imagine that any band’s following is almost entirely made up of a bar crowd… well, call me crazy, but I’m not gonna be too excited. (As we all know, bar shows suck, and all ages shows are where it’s at! I’ve thought this since I was 14 and, at the age of 22 – well within the legal limits to attend bar shows – I’m still opposed!) Okay, so here’s the part where I shut up and talk about the music, dude. The Decals have a female lead singer who does not sound like Kim Shattuck, contrary to other reviews of this CD I’ve seen around. In theme, they probably come closest to a band like the Eyeliners, but with much worse lyrics. Nothing too exciting here, but nothing too awful either. And if you’ve spent enough on expensive drinks all night, you might just find yourself loving it. This is Golden Grahams – only great when you’re really drunk and someone hands you a box of ‘em!
–Maddy (Fork-in-Hand)


LEFTOVER CRACK:
Fuck World Trade: CD
This band had a record on Hellcat a few years ago and I guess weren’t invited back because this is on another label. Less ska than I have heard from them in the past but it’s still there. For some reason I keep thinking Beatnik Termites when they play their non-ska songs. The vocalist’s voice is over-screamed and can get annoying at times. I’m pretty sure they have already built up their fan base, so those people will already go out and get this. It’s an average release that just did not have a song on it that jumped out and touched me. –don (Alternative Tentacles)


DAN MELCHIOR’S BROKE REVUE:
Heavy Dirt: CD
A wild mix of lo-fi trash, blues, country and punk rock. Everything grates on the nerves in just the right way, enough to annoy but not enough to repulse. This guy’s supposedly worked with Billy Childish and Bruce Brand of Thee Headcoats and Holly Golightly, and that would make sense, although I think that he’s a tad more deranged in sound than his friends. –jimmy (In the Red)


LARS FREDERIKSEN AND THE BASTARDS:
Viking: CD
If the promise displayed by Lars Frederiksen’s first album was a surprise, then this sophomore release is more shocking for all the wrong reasons. The first record, much like Rancid’s best work, demonstrated an acute understanding of the stresses that working second or third shift carry and making do as a struggling punk. And then this hit. I barely know what to say. We can begin with the liner notes, because the censored pictures of semi-attractive women are the best part of this release. It’s true that a picture says a thousand words and the generic images of women affecting lustful expressions pretty much say it all. This is half-assed punk by numbers with few melodies, few hooks and little insight. It’s all about posturing—Lars doesn’t go anywhere without his switchblade. He’s a tough streetwise punk. He’s had threesomes in… well, pretty much every city he can seem to think of. He’s had sex with hookers. So what? What, in the end, does all this boasting and bragging signify? How does this relate in any way to anything which provides any sort of insight into the human condition, the loneliness and sorrow that most punks are all too intimately familiar with and which Frederiksen captured on his debut? The short answer is that it doesn’t relate at all, that it signifies fuck all and that this has more in common with a bling-bling era hip hop record than it does with punk… except that most rappers talking about their money, bitches, and Cristal can find a hook to save their lives. –scott (Hellcat)


CUTS, THE:
Self-titled: LP
Neo-’60s/Voxx fuzzzrock straddling that fine line between the Standells and Love. Kinda wary of bands like this ‘cause so many of them suck, but the fact that there are some great songs and inspired performances here makes this an exception rather than the rule. Good stuff for a nice summer drive through the shitty parts of town. –jimmy (Rock'n'Roll)


CRYPT KICKERS:
Lamentations of the Living Dead: CD
This is the world’s best damned two-man quartet in existence today! Maybe they are one of the only two-man quartets. Guitar and harmonica balanced with drums and banjo played together and in a way that can only be done if you are two fellas from the North Country of Alabama.  Dead men, devils, down’n’out, picking and rocking, slopped up in filling helpings. It makes me want to shake the spiders out of my boots and get to walking before the down and outs come creeping up to my door. –bradley (Nation of Kids)


KNOCKOUT PILLS:
1 + 1= Ate: CD
The first time I heard the Knockout Pills—an unreleased pre-mastered version—I was kinda doubtful. See, I love, love, loved the Weird Lovemakers and when they split up, the lead singer and one of the main song writers went to different corners (a bookstore and SF, to be exact.) Jason “Part of the Problem” Willis, the guitarist, and Gerrard (otherwise known as “Wallaby, Wallaby Dingo”) of the Weird Lovemakers joined up with Travis “the Archie Bunker of Punk Rock” Spillers of Los Federales, and Matt (“the secret brain” of the Resonars). The demo was so-so. I craved the type of musical punishment and reward that the Weird Lovemakers heaped high on my plate. Melodic mania. Rough knuckled, oddly voiced dork rock that kicked ass over throwback, cutout punk. Then out came the first Knockout Pills self-titled record. Through some magic of mastering or re-recording, songs like “Reject Button” leg swept me. I’d stare at the ceiling and sing along in praise that the magical sand and grit of Tucson punk rock was once again on the ascension. With each successive spin of that record, it became apparent that I wasn’t dealing with a band with just a chop or two or a band with a couple of good songs in a cat box of turds. The whole record was chops layered on top of one another, rhythms hidden in the cupboard, melodies in the gutter, choruses flying from the heavens like Lawn Darts to right between my eyes. I’d just have to sit and listen to that album, and it never failed to drop another veil. “Oh, la, la, what a voluptuous motherfucker of sound,” I said. Then 1+1=Ate comes out. Take all of the “you’ve got to listen for ‘em” stealth chops and, somehow, polish ‘em so they’re right there—luminescent gems on first listen, yet deep and dazzling enough to warrant compulsive playing—like you’re listening to something that makes you feel musically richer. They added more power. They added more confidence, and what you’ve got is one of the unabashedly best records to come out of 2004 that won’t be toppled from my top ten list. I don’t even want compare them to other bands. I’ll just say if you like what Razorcake covers as a whole, trust me on this. –todd (Estrus)


CRUDOS, LOS:
Discography: CD
Wild, bombastic, fast, uncompromising, and yes, brutal – all words that accurately describe the phenomenon that was Los Crudos. Coming out of the barrios of Chicago, these guys helped reinvigorate and repoliticize a style of music that, at the time, was sinking deeper and deeper into a macho-jock-metal cesspool and going from bad to just flat-out pathetic. If you can understand the lyrics, you will find the topics up for discussion range from indigenous people’s rights to the treatment of immigrants to racism both within and without the punk scene and beyond. Even if you can’t understand what they’re saying (the lyrics are in Spanish), it’s obvious that they’re not just outraged about something, they’re flat-out pissed and hell-bent on being heard. And then there’s their “music,” the equivalent of running headfirst into a moving train and jamming an ice pick into your ear while a lunch whistle screams in your ear. Included here is, I believe, damn near every song they committed to vinyl, as well as a “live in the studio” session. Even if you’re only remotely interested in hardcore, consider this mandatory material for your collection. Plop it in, set the volume at full and prepare to have the skin peeled back from your teeth. –jimmy (Lengua Armada)


KEVIN K:
New York New York: CD
One of the more talented apostles of the Church of Johnny Thunders gets his very own “best of” collection. If you like your punk heavy on the NY rock circa 1974 side of the fence, you can’t go wrong with this guy. –jimmy (www.13th-Street.com)


COMING DOWN:
The Pirate Songs: CD
Pirates? Yes, pirates? I was reading in the last issue of Razorcakean article by Harmonee about Count Chocula, Boo Berry, and Frankenberry cereals. It was that story combined with the amount of pirate related images I’ve seen lately that makes me wonder if there has ever been a pirate cereal to compare with the likes of the Count Chocula Crew. I’m no expert on cereals, but for a pirate cereal it would have to be in the marshmallow cereal genre like any of the CCC. There would be wheat crisp things shaped like skulls and bones. The marshmallows would be gold coins, blue swords, black cannon balls, and brown peg legs. Just an idea. But this CD isn’t about cereal. It’s about screams, hopeless(ness), and being knee deep in shit. The first song caught me off guard and then held me there. E-mail them for a copy. –bradley (Coming Down)


KEVIN K AND THE KOOL KATS:
Addiction: CD
Another collection of post-Thunders New York junkie rock from Kevin K and his cohorts. A little more obsessed with the “old days” in sound and lyric than I’m comfortable with, but I can’t deny that he’s good at what he does. –jimmy (Lollipop)


CIVIC MINDED 5:
E=CM5: CD
I’ve seen the Civic Minded 5 play on the side of warehouse in freezing winds. And they were fucking great. Lazer reminded me of the intensity of Greg Ginn. Then someone tripped over the lamp chord and everything went black and we drank more and people bumped into one another. I’ve seen the CM5 in a Vegas dive bar and got threatened I couldn’t take pictures unless I faxed in a request. That night, they sucked balls. They played a fucking twenty minute medley that they’d restart over and over again. They were just very bad drunks. I’ve seen the CM5 smash a guitar in NYC and it was joyous. The crowd got rowdy. Fun, punch your friends rowdy. In other words, live is a mixed bag, depending on their sobriety and their we-hate-one-another levels of irritation. Enter this CD. Fuck your first song. If anything, put it after ten minutes of blank space at the end. It’s a “parody” of Aerosmith’s “Sweet Emotion.” Jesus, it’s painful and it’s shitty. Things pick up mightily right after that. Then they do things I like: fuckin’ spazz, almost-kazoo vocals jumping all over themselves like little dogs having fun humping. And if you listen beyond the frenetic din – and I’m not calling anyone a pussy here – the musicianship is as inspired as it is warped and speedy. Guitar lines fray and splice and stop and bunch up suddenly and make very basic song structures crackle like the front of a retard bus with the brakes locked up, after it hits a brick wall. It’s funny. The CM5 are an unavoidable accident. There’s a lot of screaming. Like someone’s in a lot of pain, which, in my book, makes for a very enjoyable record. Favorite track: “Kiss My Black Ass.” Rolickin’. –todd (Recess)


KEGCHARGE:
Sadistic War Glory: CD
Another Discharge clone band, this one carbon copying their idols’ first few EPs. Great, loud hardcore with zero originality. –jimmy (Hardcore Holocaust)


CHIYOKO:
Cinematic: CD
I’m sorry. I fell asleep. Who was I reviewing? Oh yeah. Press play on the CD player. Zzzzzzzzzz. –jimmy (Boo-the-Cat)


CHICKENHAWKS, THE:
Hard Hitting Songs for Hard Hit People: CD
More swampy r’n’r mayhem from this lot. The songs are, as per usual, great, although the bass seems a little low in the mix. Then again, it might just be these shitty computer speakers. –jimmy (RAFR)


KARST:
Vision of Insane Hope: CD
Cookie monster metal with some pretty good lyrics and a surprisingly effective gloomy moodiness. More impressed with ‘em than I thought I would be, which I imagine is tantamount to a grudging recommendation. –jimmy (Hater of God)


CHICKEN HAWKS, THE:
Hard Hitting Songs for Hard Hit People: CD
Well I’ll be a soused silly sonuvabitch, this is the friskiest, most sonically spectacular display of bad-ass rock’n’roll rowdiness to ever thunderously roar outta the Midwest! It’s a decadent voodoo-laden whirlwind of tornadic fury that’s as hot and steamy as a crawfish-boil in Hell – untamed, uncivilized, unrefined, and downright unruly, just the way Beezlebub requested! The vocals are robustly belted-out by a devilishly delicious wildcat momma who enthusiastically exudes a sweat-drenched swirl of sex, sin, and sleaze; the wildly out-of-control slide-guitar frantically slithers throughout a steady crunch of fretboard-rattlin’ rhythms like a venomous snake stalking its prey in a cool, well-shaded patch of San Augustine grass; a virile hoochie-coochie helping of honkytonk keyboards strut in and out like a proud budding alleycat prowlin’ for pussy on a Saturday night; and a ferocious rumbling brannigan continuously erupts between the bass and drums as if they’re stubbornly dukin’ it out to the death! Damn straight, this is a dark, magical mix of The Cramps, CCR, X, The Faces, Big Mama Thornton, and The Rolling Stones thoroughly soaked in a murky baptismal of Mississippi River swampwater. This juicy skull-thumper of a disc has cast an everlasting spell on me, and now I’m uglier, meaner, and nastier than I was just two hours ago. I’ve been Chicken Hawked, yeeeeehaw hot damn! -Roger Moser, Jr. –Guest Contributor (RAFR)


JULIA SETS:
Yes-Wave: CD
It’s music like this that makes me wish everyone received an inner-city education. That way no one would be able to attend college and develop embarrassing levels of pretentiousness and they’d all be full of angst ‘n’ shit and their songs would have balls instead of whining along in arty abandon. –jimmy (www.juliasets.com)


1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583 584 585 586 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594 595 596 597 598 599 600 601 602 603 604 605 606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630 631 632 633 634 635 636 637 638 639 640 641 642 643 644 645 646 647 648 649 650 651 652 653 654 655 656 657 658 659 660 661 662 663 664 665 666 667 668 669 670 671 672 673 674 675 676 677 678 679 680 681 682 683 684 685 686 687 688 689 690 691 692 693 694 695 696 697 698 699 700 701 702 703 704 705 706 707 708 709 710 711 712 713 714 715 716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739 740 741 742 743 744 745 746 747 748 749 750 751 752 753 754 755 756 757 758 759 760 761 762 763 764 765 766 767 768 769 770 771 772 773 774 775 776 777 778 779 780 781 782 783 784 785 786 787 788 789 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835 836 837 838 839 840 841 842 843 844 845 846 847 848 849 850 851 852 853 854 855 856 857 858 859 860 861 862 863 864 865 866 867 868 869 870 871 872 873 874 875 876 877 878 879 880 881 882 883 884 885 886 887 888 889 890 891 892 893 894 895 896 897 898 899 900 901 902 903 904 905 906 907 908 909 910 911 912 913 914 915 916 917 918 919 920 921 922 923 924 925 926 927 928 929 930 931 932 933 934 935 936 937 938 939 940 941 942 943 944 945 946 947 948 949 950 951 952 953 954 955 956 957 958 959 960 961 962 963 964 965 966 967 968 969 970 971 972 973 974

| 0-9| A| B| C| D| E| F| G| H| I| J| K| L| M |

| N| O| P| Q| R| S| T| U| V| W| X| Y| Z|

Razorcake Podcast Player


·PLANES MISTAKEN FOR STARS
·IGGY & THE STOOGES
·ANTISEEN
·Enchanters Vs. Sprawlburg Springs, The
·ERGS!, THE / THE MEASURE [SA]
·ALIANS
·ARMY OF FRESHMEN
·CASTET
·SAINTE CATHERINES, THE


If you live in the Los Angeles area and want to help us out, let us know.



Get monthly notifications of new arrivals and distro and special offers for being part of the Razorcake army.



 
Razorcake/Gorsky Press, Inc.
PO Box 42129
Los Angeles, CA 90042

Except for reviews, which appear in both, the
contents of the Razorcake website are completely
different from the contents of Razorcake Fanzine.

© 2001-2015 Razorcake/Gorsky Press, Inc. Privacy Policy

Razorcake.org is made possible in part by grants from
the City of Los Angeles, Department
of Cultural Affairs and is supported
by the Los Angeles County Board of
Supervisors through the Los Angeles
Arts Commission.
Department of Cultural AffairsLos Angeles County Arts Commission


Web site engine code is Copyright © 2003 by PHP-Nuke. All Rights Reserved. PHP-Nuke is Free Software released under the GNU/GPL license.