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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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MUSTARD PLUG:
Yellow #5: CD

I'm ready to be happy again. The overabundant influx of ska bands that we had to endure during the late '90s almost killed the genre for me. Now that the bad, "I'm going to get rich and famous," wannabe bands have given up, the quality of the releases is going back up. Take Mustard Plug for instance. I have always liked this band. I think I appreciated every release that I received. This release I would compare to the most recent Bosstones record; a sense of familiarity and I notice a maturity to their sound. The music is the same with the sound of skanking guitars and the presence of happy horns. The songs are tight and feel like they have worked on them until they were just right. This is not a bunch of songs just to get a bunch of songs out there. I feel like they are doing it for the love of the music. Ska lovers take notice.

 

–don (Hopeless)


MUMMYDOGS:
Self-titled: CD

Wow, this is the first new record I’ve seen on Frontier in literally decades. I guess Lisa Fancher managed to scrape up some extra money or something. Unfortunately, it does zippo for these ears. Mellow indie rock with a guy trying to sound like Leonard Cohen or something. Hell, I’d subject myself to that Flyboys record again before listening to this a second time.

 

–jimmy (Frontier)


MUDHONEY:
Since We’ve Become Translucent: CD

This is one of my favorite bands. Consistantly, they have put out quality albums since I first heard them in 1988 with Superfuzz Bigmuff. For those of you unaware, Mudhoney has a fuzzy garage rock punk sound with a blues backbone. Mark Arm has one of the best voices in punk as well. This album marks some changes for them. First, they have replaced their bass player, Matt Lukin (who, like the rest of the members, has been with them since they started), with Guy Maddison. I’m not familiar with him, but I think he was in two bands prior to this. Lubricated Goat and Bloodloss. The next thing they did differently was to include horns in some of the songs. Finally, there are four different producers on this album, including Wayne Kramer. The songs were recorded in four different sessions. What does all this mean? Well, I was apprehensive at first. Not because of these reasons, but when I first popped in the CD, the first song is an eight minute plus psychedelic jam session. It started out like a Pink Floyd song. “D’OH!”, was the only thing that came to my mind. “What have they done?” I thought, “What happened to my Mudhoney?” Fortunately, the song manifested itself into a normal blend of music and lyrics, but there was something new in their sound… horns. I settled down at this point and began to take the rest of the album in. I'm glad to say that Mudhoney was still there. The songs get back to normal after the first one. There are some horns on a few of the songs, which I don’t think really compliment their sound much. Organs and harmonicas have done well in the past, but I think they need to give up the horn thing. This isn’t one of the best albums they have put out by far. However, after you get over the shock of the first song’s long intro and can put up with some horns in a couple songs, it's still Mudhoney. Dan Peters, Steve Turner, and Mark Arm are still churning out the fuzz that I couldn’t get enough of fourteen years ago.

 

–todd (Subpop)


MOURNINGSIDE/BRANDO:
: Split 7” EP

Mourningside: I think they’re aping the Misfits, but they suck so bad it’s hard to tell. Brando: Much noisier and much better than that crap on the other side. Straight-up hardcore with no pretense and no delusions of grandeur. They would do well to do themselves a favor and avoid doing splits in the future.

 

–jimmy (name and address illegible)


MÖRSER:
10,000 Bad Guys Dead: CD

Pretty standard grindcore stuff. This one is special because seven Germans are collectively making all that racket.

 

–jimmy (www.chromesaintmagnus.com)


MISHAPS, THE:
Get Away Volume : CDEP
Pretty straight ahead, somewhat poppy, middle-of-the-road punk that falls on the force scale of newtons somewhere between The Lillingtons and The Bodies. Thankfully, not so twinkle-toes poppy that I go into a diabetic seizure, but not heavy enough to insure that my Limecell discs will stay in their jewel cases. I would imagine that they’re much better live – where the music can grow teeth and back hair and take on an unrestrained feral energy. Not bad though. If there were such a thing as collagen shots for the testicles, I’d say these guys should get some. But if they’d just turn their amps up a bit more, I think we might have a winner. –aphid (Scissor Press)


MIGHTY IONS, THE:
Face Rakin: LP

As you may not know nor care, before the cable-abetted globalization of pro wrestling really took hold in the mid '80s, rasslin' was a regionalized phenomenon: The Northeast had the WWF, the Upper Midwest and Rockies had the AWA, the NWA was in the south, and whatever federation was in place where you lived, that was who ya saw on TV and at the matches. I mention that only because Mighty Ions, The, were a wrasslin'-themed band who ran the squared circle o' rawk with an iron fist from '80-'82, which would be great, except, being as how they're from Boston and all, they're WWF guys, and i'm an AWA guy. This means that they're all Pedro Morales and Greg Valentine and Freddie Blassie and the Grand Wizard and Bob Backlund and the annoying legacy of Bruno Sammartino and the night Jimmy Snuka missed the headbutt from the top of the cage at Madison Square Garden, and i'm all Crusher and Baron Von Raschke and Mad Dog Vachon and Bobby Heenan and Nick Bockwinkel and the annoying legacy of Verne Gagne and the night they smashed "Rock 'n' Roll" Buck Zumhoff's boombox. Therefore, even though this band is roughly from the period when my interest in rasslin' was at its friggin' zenith (in case you're wondering, yes, breathe easy, i agree that wrestling fucking BLOWS these days and i haven't been to anything other than a local card where one of my friends was involved in ten years), we actually have very little in common; further, as an AWA guy, i don't even know if i should be rooting for a band composed of WWF fans. I mean, fuck, they stole Hogan from us, they stole Jesse Ventura from us, they even stole fucking Gene Okerlund from us! Fuck you, Mighty Ions! Enjoy the world you've created! ...unfortunately, songs like "Say Somethin' Stupid" are so brilliant even in a non-wrestling context that i have no choice but to submit to this veritable Boston Crab o' Rock and wonder why there are no submission holds named after my own municipality... (i can also assure the wrestling non-enthusiast that this record holds up as well outside the squared circle as it does on the mat, with the melodic/somewhat tinny punk sound that was Boston's trademark back then fitting in seamlessly next to your La Peste and Unnatural Axe [who, in fact, begat at least one Ion] reissues and reminding you that, like it or not, Boston emitted the best bands, pound-for-pound, for a good stretch of time back in The Day™). Let the record also show that their reworking of "California über Alles" as "Pedro Morales" is sheerest genius. The Grand Wizard taught them well!  BEST SONG TITLE: "Say Somethin' Stupid"  BEST SONG: "Say Somethin' Stupid" or "Don't Talk to Me"  FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: The Mighty Ions were formed as GG Allin's backing band back in 1980, and wrote "Don't Talk to Me," which is the best song on GG's first album (this is the SECOND review where i've mentioned that album in this issue; one wouldn't think the damn thing would turn out to be such a friggin' cultural touchstone). Also, "George 'The Animal' Steele" is both misspelled and mis-quotation-marked on the back cover, and the apostrophe on "Somethin'" points the wrong way.

 

–todd (Alien Snatch)


MIDNIGHT CREEPS:
Punchin’ Skanks at the Venue: CD

Hey, is this Cher’s super-secret punk project? I could swear that’s her singin’. If it is, she needs some better songs, ’cause nothing here has the catchy quality of that “Do you believe in life after love?” song, and this disc really needs something like that.

 

–jimmy (Midnight Creeps)


MANIKIN:
Self-titled: CD

A band from Austin who sounds like they come from California’s SouthBay, circa 1981 or so. Imagine an updating of the sound mined on slower China White songs and early Shattered Faith and you’re not too far off the mark. Good sounds here.

 

–jimmy (Super Secret)


MALCONTENTS, THE:
Liquor Store EP: 7"

From the cover – of a naked lady puking onto a target on the ground – I thought this'd be dirty, nasty, in-the-red garage. Wrong bongo. I usually crap all over pervasively mellow heartbreak songs and nail them to the "alternative adult contemporary" crucifix in my bathroom. Since I didn't bring any preconceived notions to The Malcontents, (unlike the Replacements, who once breathed fire, but at the very end of their career, became the Paul Westerburg Plink and Cry Ensemble) I like these songs. They're catchy, hummable, sound like slowed-down 'Mats songs, and are extremely hangover friendly. When I want to puss out with dignity, this'll be spinning.

 

–todd (Skull)


MAIN, THE:
To the Grave b/w Kiss of Death: 7"

Headed by Spencer, formerly of Shattered Faith, I was very apprehensive about The Main, mostly due to seeing the previous incarnation, 4-Bolt Main. Yeowch, that was a hard-to-watch nightmare. I just remember such a high degree of wanking that eight beers into it, I just wanted the bad men to stop, put down their instruments, and get run over in the parking lot. Not the Main. It's stripped down, straight-ahead catchy punk that's got a lot of the best aspects of Shattered Faith: crackling guitars, real chanty parts, and the best part, songs that get to the point, pound, and get out. It's nice to hearken back to the feelings I got when I first heard China White and the Klan, but it's even better to hear the echoes of the past get injected with new adrenaline, lead by someone who really knows how to plug it. Very surprising. Did I mention Hostage's packaging is fucking amazing? Mine even came with a spider in the spindle hole.

 

–todd (Hostage)


LUBE:
Music of Chance b/w George Melly: 7"

I wasn't expecting this at all. It's mellow, smoky, broken-down, and melodramatic like Leonard Cohen, a little off kilter and eclectic, like Tom Waits. It took some getting used to – like when the harmonica slithers in like an asp – but I'm starting to like it in a lonesome barstool kind of way. Although the songs are long, they don't get tiring.

 

–todd (Revenge)


LOST SOUNDS:
Black-Wave: CD

Some serious '60s worship going on here, but it sounds like it’s being channeled through a death rock band raised on hardcore and very early Sonic Youth. What this translates to, kids, is that some melodies are identifiable through the din, but no way are these guys gonna be mistaken for Fleetwood Mac or something. Some may not be too hip to their brand of noise, but I’m pleased give it the high-sign.

 

–jimmy (Empty)


LOOSE:
Untamed: 7” EP

Italian rock/punk in the vein of Radio Birdman. A tad too derivative, but still pretty good.

 

–jimmy (Rockin’ House)


LIPSTICK PICKUPS/ BIKINI BUMPS:
: Split 7"

Lipstick Pickups: Dual female vocals. One's really good. The other one's a screech – like a squirrel in a wood chipper. Imagine if super early Go Go's were Japanese, huffed glue, and sounded like they were trying to get a command of the English language, but were really from Anaheim. Or if you beat up Shonen Knife really bad and stuck microphones in the wounds. They pull off a sort of inspired retardedness that's actually harder than it looks because the Lipstick Pickups don't fail to rock through all three tracks. Bikini Bumps: ever listen to band that you're thiiiiis close to really liking, but it sounds like their music's driving around with the parking brake on? The better track of the two, "Bikini Bumps + Talent = Violence" has a cool, meandering guitar over nicely gritted up vocals, and a steady beat. It's really close, but I say either step on the gas or twist the swagger knob a bit further to the right. Look forward to hearing more from both bands.

 

–todd (Geykido Comet)


LIBRAIRIANS, THE:
The Pathetic Aesthetic: CD

This is a pretty killer album save one thing: the vocals. They drive me nuts. They are so terrible. I can’t say it enough, I hate them. Maybe I wouldn’t care if I didn’t like everything else about it. I seriously could see this getting some heavy rotation over at Razorcake HQ and it would be great road trip music if only… I mean he’s got this nasally, whiney vibrato thing going on that makes me understand why he’d have to write a song called Thank You for Fucking Me. With a voice like that I’m sure it doesn’t happen too often.

 

–megan (Pandacide)


KYLESA/ MEMENTO MORI:
: Split 7"

Rule Number Fucking One: Put the speed on the 7" label, or at least the packaging. Kylesa: Since I don’t know the speed, here's two interpretations. At 33 RPM, their songs are plodders that I assume are trying to build tension or Sabbath-heavy chunkatude, but I just don't get the chains-a-draggin', intestines-stretched-to-hell vibe. My attention span for sludgecore is nil. I'd rather watch water turn into ice cubes. At 45 RPM, it sounds a lot like a mean Mr. Bungle fronted by Alvin Chipmunk. I really liked their debut 7". This just don’t rattle me at either speed. Memento Mori: the first song sounds like a soundtrack to a man frolicking in purple tights at Renaissance fair. Unnngh, fruity. Their second song, "Dirt Roads and Howls of Wolves," is the best of the four. It's dirty, metally, has a couple of great pace changes, and would be something Pushead could stamp with approval. Think in the same vein as Buzzov-en or the more straight-ahead Unsane.

 

–todd (Hyperrealist)


KRAYS, THE:
A Time for Action: CD

Nice, driving punk rock with just enough anthemic quality to get the fist pumping. Could’ve used the services of a better graphic artist than the one they were apparently stuck with, but that detracts none from the music. You could do much worse than picking this bad boy up.

 

–jimmy (TKO)


KILLERS, THE:
Manual for Self Destruction: 10”

Dude, it’s a 10”, it’s got a Pushead lookalike cover, a booklet, ex-Charles Bronson folks; it should drop me in my tracks, but sadly it rarely really hits a good groove. It seems to be so into being musically mature and lyrically anguished it won’t just let go and ROCK. If you don’t think that will bother you, though, there are ten loud and crazy songs and one terrible cartoon. Lap it up.

 

–Cuss Baxter (Hater of God)


KILL DEVIL HILLS, SEROTONIN:
: Split 7"

Serotonin sounds like Jawbox, circa Grippe. Mumbly vocals that are subsumed into the mix enough to be considered an instrument itself, and it nets with the guitar, drum, and bass. It's arty, dense, complex and comes pretty close to rockin'. It's a personal thing, I know, but I'm suspicious of all bassists who strap their instruments really high, and, in Serotonin's case, it reinforces my fear that he fingers and funks more instead of strumming and wailing. Kill Devil Hills goes from a long, almost classic rock, instrumental dirge into a Hot Water Music territory with hoarse vocals, stratospheric guitars and shout-alongs. The song goes back and forth a couple times between the two extremes. I like it, though. Hey, at least the yelling sounds genuine. The bassist, Andrew, went on to the extremely excellent Against Me! An alright split. Not going either nutso over it or wanting to bonk them on the head.

 

–todd (Soul Is Cheap)


KEVIN K BAND:
Sealed Works: CD

I guess this is what the kid’s these days are calling “punk rawk.” More accurately, it’s probably just “rawk.” It’s sort of a poorman’s (a really destitute poorman’s) Hellacopters or Backyard Babies. But way more, um, relaxed than either of those. Especially the vocals. They’re so relaxed sounding that they sound out of place in a grubby little band like this. Kevin K sounds like Don Dokken on a bunch of Xanax, sipping martinis. Odd. On the cover he looks like some putrefied street person who’s teeth were chewed out of his head by years of filterless cigarettes and rot gut whiskey. So I guess I was expecting some growling sociopathic Neanderthal like GG Allin or something. No such luck. Ballads, cheesy poorly-executed dual guitar wanks and that fruity, god-forsaken relaxed Dokken voice. And too many stupid Chuck Berry riffs. The Kevin K Band sounds exactly like every mediocre bar band you ever tried to drown out with loud drunken conversation. I honestly don’t know who this would appeal to.

 

–aphid (Laughing Outlaw)


I FARM:
Two Selected Works: CD

Apparently, this is a collection from two different records they put out a few years back. Herky, jerky punk with two thousand fucking changes, of which did nothing more than annoy the crap out of me. Nomeansno meets blazing pop punk.  Sounds more interesting than it really is. Not my cup of tea. –Mike Dunn

–Guest Contributor (Traffic Violation, BD, Yo-Yo, Freedumb)


HUNCHES:
Got Some Hate: 7”

Over-the-top trash rock with nary a hummable tune. Surprised it ain’t on Estrus or somethin’.

 

–jimmy (In the Red)


HUMUNGUS:
I Hate Motherfucking Cops/A Reason to Care: CD

Didn’t quite know what to expect from this bad boy. When I see Cheetah Chrome’s name attached to something, I figure, “Okay, Dead Boys vibe coming up,” but you throw Nicki Sicki into the mix and all bets are off. The end result is some raw, obnoxious hardcore not heard since the glory days of the Vats in Frisco. There are a couple of stabs at what I believe are “serious” subjects, such as vegetarianism, which are a little hard to swallow coming from a guy who once sang about destroying the human race, shooting speed, burning his parents, killing a Muni driver, and the like. Still, this is some pretty good stuff tailor made for those assholes that sit around whining that no one plays “real” hardcore anymore. Let them chew on this and hopefully they’ll shut the fuck up for a while.

 

–jimmy (Beer City)


HOOKERS, THE:
God Made Me The Raven: all 7 inches

Yes this review is old but I just got this thing so chill the fuck out, m’kay. Ah, another blast of fire and brimstone from hell’s furnace as interpreted by Kentucky’s majesty – The Hookers. It’s been a few years absence for these guys since their single outing for Sub Pop (!) and let’s not forget their sorely overlooked magnum opus of black southern metal Black Metal for Crimson Wisdom, their farewell full length CD. The Hookers broke up after the ashes settled from Black Metal posting their eulogy unceremoniously on their own website, where they crawled into a quiet slumber in the smallest nook they could squeeze their worn down and beaten asses into. 2001 brought them out of their self-imposed suspended animation and found them even more undeniably evil and all-powerful. Singer Rock’n’Roll Outlaw even started his own side project, Brothers of Conquest (whose initials coincidences with the might cow belling Blue Oyster Cult – I bet he did this on purpose, that dastardly deceptive and clever brute!) There were speculations of a possible tour, appearances at garage rock festivals, more albums, etc. What they delivered was this here single release on the perennially cool Get Hip Records. It's a much welcomed wash of virgin blood over the tiring waves of blues-rock revivals, bad arty punk, etc. So, you’re wearing your stretch black jeans and wanking off with your Urban Outfitter punk friends trying to learn Hives riffs. One of you just got a Ramones t-shirt for thirty bucks that’s made to look naturally faded through stuffy, smoke-filled, low capacity clubs, record swaps, tour van driving, sleeping on floors of untidy homes, and what not. You’re growing your facial hair and trying to affect that ‘70s rocker guy stance that lies somewhere between the overt gayness of Rod Stewart and the cool sinister of Gregg Allman. I’ve seen you hanging out at all the usual places, ass kissing to all the same faces, trying to belong where you don’t belong, lying in your lies, becoming what you can’t and won’t want in the end. For you, I give you a tip – The Hookers. No matter how ironic chic your t-shirt is and which breed of ‘70s rock inspired you this week, it all boils down to the gritty, grim structure of their unholy overtures. The Hookers are fueled by hatred (they hate you, they really do because you fail to see rock’n’roll raw and right in the eye), disgust (you and your friends need a spike gauntlet up your silly tiny assholes to loosen you up from all that caked up, fabricated crap you’re holding in), macabre (Fulci could not do better in terms of bloody gore-iffic imagery! Remember, Iron Maiden songs are mostly about Euro-mythology and wizard/ H.P. Lovecraft-ish themes because the heaviness of their music is the only thing that could sustain such an immense density of topic! Maiden just wouldn’t work if ol’ Bruce Dickinson bellowed songs about the rain forest, world hunger or political prisoners – leave that shit to Sting.), and down right offensive. (Yes, they were one of the first garage punk’n’roll bands to boldly display their love of metal like a family crest upon their bosom.) Okay, I’ve wasted enough time spewing a bunch of nothingness – go buy this Hookers single and shave, you dirty hippy wannabe! Learn to laugh at yourself and others! Yikes!

 

–nam (Get Hip)


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·LOTUS EFFECT
·BELOW THE SOUND
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·Coliseum, Bumbklaatt, Dirty Girls, and Restos
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·AGE OF RUIN
·Razorcake Podcast #121
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