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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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TED LEO/PHARMACISTS:
Hearts of Oak: CD
Even though I bought this on the day it came out, I’m eternally grateful to Todd for sending it, both because it was the first CD I’d received that I could actually look forward to hearing and because it provided a second copy of this disc so that I could leave one copy in my player at home and another in my player at work. And yes, it really is that good. In fact, it’s better than that. It’s better than my explanation of how good it is and better than your idea of what a great album is. Ted Leo has created a masterful work which recalls his angular, jangly, edgy mod-pop with Chisel and proceeds further into the uncharted territories that 2001’s The Tyranny of Distance began exploring (Rx/Pharmacists, while an interesting album in its own right, has little to do with this discussion). Hearts of Oak is filled with unexpected surprises – the ridiculously funky basslines on the title track, the literary sensibilities which infuse every line, the joyful rock of “2nd Ave, 11AM,” the referential and reverent Two Tone tribute contained in “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone?” and the constant, persistent dance beats. “Bridges, Squares” gallops along like a giddy, playful horse trying to buck not only its rider but the entire system to boot; a triumphant, questioning pop song which poses only questions and ciphers without offering answers or solutions. As a whole, this album seems to examine what happens when political idealism and the best intentions run headlong into muddy realities. It simultaneously seems to acknowledge both the futility of and need for these convictions; to reconstruct its ideological structures as it deconstructs its philosophical foundation to examine the component parts. And what all this jibber jabber boils down to is that Hearts of Oak is so good that it is the early front-runner to top my list of the best records of 2003 and has been for over two months now. It will take an album of epic proportions and astounding brilliance to unseat it from its current position. –scott (Lookout!)


TEARS, THE:
She Ain't Right b/w Death in Texas & Don't Care About Nothing: 7"
The first promo blurb i saw for this record described the band's sound as being something to the effect of "if the Muffs were on Crypt Records," which, having seen the band live, i thought might've been a bit of wishful thinking on the parts of all parties concerned. However, after further viewing and listening, i have come to the conclusion that the vocals are, in fact, sufficiently Muffsian enough, and the music, in fact, sufficiently Cryptish enough to at least warrant the comparison – and i'll go you one better if you've got the nerve: i think the pegged-out destructo-bash production (or lack thereof), at least on the a-side, brings to mind salient whiffs of the first coupla Guitar Wolf albums (potentially with a half-carafe of "Steppin' Stone" on the side!), so there. My main bone of contention with the record – which is, invariably, the same bone of contention i have with multiple records each issue – is that bands have GOT to make better assessments of how much song they have to work with, how long the song should last for optimum results, and then take steps to NOT run the song any longer than that. I mean, for fuck's sake, in "Death in Texas," they go "death in Texas, death in Texas!" about twenty fucking trillion thousand times before the song is over; by about the third round of "death in Texas, death in Texas"es, i'm about ready to heave a shoe at the fucking stereo. YES. I GET IT. "DEATH IN TEXAS, DEATH IN TEXAS." RIGHT. GOT IT. CAN I PLEASE GO NOW??? I mean, i actually start feeling legitimate dread when i hear them going into the "death in Texas, death in Texas" parts, because i know i'm gonna hafta sit thru "Death in Texas, death in Texas! Death in Texas, death in Texas! Death in Texas, death in Texas!" for the umpteenth lifetime (it's sorta like why i hate when bands do that song "I'm A Man" – who the fuck wants to sit thru some slowpoke spelling out "M-A-N?" I mean, I CAN SPELL FUCKING "MAN," OKAY???). I was sick of the song before it even finished. And, the thing of it is, all you gotta do to bypass this particular Cherry Pitfall™ are simple little things like making the first chorus half the length of the second chorus, which also adds tension to the first chorus, and drama to the second (somehow). Whatever. Nice simultaneous double lead guitar throughout, there must be a lot more pot around than when i was a young'un. BEST SONG: "She Ain't Right" BEST SONG TITLE: I think i used to like "Death In Texas"... the first twelve million billion times i heard it. FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Rhymes with "bears," not with "beers." –norb (Bancroft)


STRUNG UP:
Self-titled: 7"
Another hardcore band here with a sound that brings back the sounds of early/mid-‘80s American hardcore. This would fit nicely sandwiched between the first Condemned to Death EP and Bad Posture’s twelve-incher. –jimmy (Kangaroo)


STARING BACK:
On: CD
Think of a genetically modified hybrid of MxPx and Samiam and you’re getting close. The music is more Samiam (partly Billy, partly Clumsy) – ringing, meaty, thick guitar riffs. The vox are more MxPx but aren’t even close to half as annoying. Keep in mind that the music is also lightly cross-pollinated with MxPx and Forbidden Beat drumming. I can’t help but think that this would absolutely rule if the vocals didn’t sound so pure and youthful (i.e. if a bleach-gargling, chain-smoking, whiskey-drinking punk was belting them out, I’d have no reservations about this disc) but, despite all of the potential here (and there’s a pretty fair bit – think about Thursday’s artistic and intellectually interesting version of commercially successful emo and you’re on the right track), it just needs some more balls. These guys claim to like In Flames and I can hear slight bits of that band here… until the singing starts. –scott (Lobster)


SWEET JAPANESE AMERICAN PRINCESSES:
Virgin Vibe: LP
An assault, in the best possible sense. I had a chance to see these guys live in Minneapolis and I was amazed that they could play so fast, so frenetic, and actually play their songs note-for-note. That impressed me much more than any prodigy playing the violin or piano, because, really, could those dandies play so well with beer being thrown at them? Could they do it surrounded by a churning crowd? No. Of course not. Sweet J.A.P. (three of them a Japanese, thus the play on words) take the banner placed in America’s ass by Teengenerate and kept there by Registrators. In other words, they play garage rock that is too fast and chaotic for the garage purists, and punk rock that’s too tightly played for the punk purists, but perfect for those of us who like to flat-out rock out without worrying about what holes to fill. I had a hypothesis that if a Japanese band was to continually kick our asses at our own game, they’d have to cross an ocean before shaming us. (Figuring fresh sushi, sleeping on mats, and advances in technology would always give them the edge.) Nope, these guys have resided in Minnesota long enough for American culture to make them slow, cheese-fat, and complacent. Twelve songs. They go off like a dozen bottle rockets lit in your back pocket. If you can’t wiggle or scream along when they sizzle to life, you’ve either got iron underwear or no molecules in your brain with an appreciation for fast music. Spectacular. –todd (Big Neck)


STANDING 69’S, THE:
Short Dress: CD-R
This is well-recorded, mid-tempo garage rock that is actually pretty okay. It’s nothing special or anything, but the lack of a discernable Motorhead influence puts this head and shoulders above most of the other “garage rock” that I reviewed this time around and I kind of enjoyed it. –Not Josh –Guest Contributor (Self-released)


SPITALFIELD:
The Cloak & Dagger Club: CDEP
Oh sure, it starts off nice – all ringing guitars that portend nothing but Grade-A rock’n’roll in a big fucking way – but like most of the mercifully short dates I’ve had here, it takes a screeching turn for the worse after a few seconds – literally. After about twenty seconds of guitar work which raised my hopes, it dropped into an underwhelming impersonation of, alternately, The Get Up Kids (only this time with distortion) and Avril Lavigne. I’ll cop to owning GUK albums and I’ll also cop to throwing this unoriginal piece of shit into the sell pile. Before I moved to central Illinois, I had the impression that it was a hotbed of indie activity; that – since Polyvinyl was so damn close, since Chicago produced some of the greatest bands to ever rock the face of the Earth (Pegboy, Naked Raygun and The Arrivals to name only a few) – the scene would rule. After some serious disabusing (I actually considered filing assault charges when my erroneous ideas were so brutally kicked to the curb), I’ve realized that this place is a hotbed of bandwagons. I don’t care if these guys just recorded for Victory – they still sound like every other shitty emo band with rockist tendencies and stadium show dreams. They still make Night Ranger and Poison seem to have the humanist insight and attention to poignant detail exhibited by Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits. And with that in mind, is it any wonder that I’ve been listening to Leadbelly and Lonnie Johnson? –scott (Sinister)


SOVIETTES, THE:
Self-titled: CD
I’ve been waiting for this album for a long time, I just didn’t know it would be The Soviettes who would do it. Sean and I have talked at length how we couldn’t think of a lady-fronted band beyond the Avengers who, when they waxed political, didn’t just resort to screaming. We stretched our brains. Name a female-singing band that fucking rocked it beyond the Avengers, who, when they turned to serious topics – questions of rape, abandonment, relationship deterioration, of media monopolies – still made it sound fun without cheapening the subject matter? Enter The Soviettes. Fourteen songs that vary greatly from one another, all fit together, and seem so grounded. I have to sit and think it’s a revolution. In no small way, pop punk has never done this. I’d go as far to say as they match the bounce and impossible-not-to-smile-along quality of the Go Go’s to the lightning bolt from the fingertips attack of Bikini Kill. They even tackle the sticky questions of gender and sexuality in a way that seems all-inclusive, and most importantly, human, so guys can sing along without fear of getting their peckers chopped at. Add to that, they’ve got undeniable charm, chops, and a CD that gets played on instant repeat. Awesome, in the original sense of the word. –todd (Adeline)


SOVIETTES, THE/VALENTINES, THE:
Split: LP
LPs are really the best format for splits. This split in particular is great because it shows the contrast between a really good pop-punk band and a somewhat mediocre one. The Valentines, for the first three songs, bored the crap out of me. Musically, they sounded like a cross between NOFX and Screeching Weasel without the driving tempo of the former and the hooks of the latter. Lyrically, their attempts at poetry were laughable at best. Song four, however, had a mighty hook, AND a driving tempo, AND the drummer broke out of the usual horse-gallop thing, and just when the bad poetry starts to annoy, they throw in the hook that got my attention in the first place and then the song is over. The potential is there, just not in the first three songs. Or the fifth one, for that matter. The Soviettes are another story entirely: hooky guitars, killer female vocals, and non-ass lyrics all the way through. The best comparison that I can think of would a poppier version of Bitchin’. These six songs are better than the ones on their more recent 7”. Buy this on vinyl and you’ll never have to listen to the Valentines. –Not Josh –Guest Contributor (Pop Riot)


SMUT PEDDLERS:
Ten Inch: 10"
Has it been almost ten years? The Smut Peddlers have been firing on all cylinders lately – gigging constantly, recording on a regular schedule, and it shows why they’re emerging as one of the best, most reliable OC punk bands in existence. (Smogtown, RIP.) Gish Stiffness’s bass is the understated foundation, Julia’s drumming is both more frantic, inventive, and precise, and Sean’s guitar is right on par with Roger Ramjet’s (whom he replaced). Couple this with their last full-length, Ism, John Ransom, lyricist and singer, has emerged with a twisted, yet clear voice as the underbelly of OrangeCounty. He has an insatiable fascination with pharmaceuticals that are prescribed to overcome addiction and their effects on the body; specific parts to Harley Davidsons; big skateparks with bowls as the alms that will cure most of society’s ills; and expresses an understandable beef with “Escalade drivers wanting reparations.” This is a spot-on extension to their already considerable catalog, and it’s near the top. –todd (Dead Beat)


SLUM CITY:
Hot Beef Injection: CDEP
These girls (and one guy) play some fast, snotty, sloppy punk that is infectious as hell. Their sound reminds me of the Lunachicks. Don’t be turned off by the gross cover of some ugly guy biting into a huge hot dog loaded with every condiment imaginable. That was gross enough to toss this aside. But one look inside and you will notice that the three girls in the band not only sound great, they are hot! With my interest now peaked, I went to their website (http://www.slumcitytx.com/) to find pics of Suzy Slum (guitar, vocals) playing a show in a spaghetti strap bustier thingy with her boobs spilling out the top of it. I’m in love. –toby (SSR)


SLEAZIES, THE:
Gonna Operate on Myself: 7"
Fun, demented, sniffing glue and popping bubblegum punk rock that’s not too heavy, knows when to stop, and has that nice bounce-along quality of early Adverts and the Briefs. The following sums it up quickly: “When I’m peeing, it affects my aim/ Got air pockets in my brain.” Not rocket science, but remember, stuff like this is on a knife’s edge and can easily fall into purely fucking dumb (see the last couple of Queers albums. “My cunt’s a cunt.” Please). As it stands, The Sleazies are merely mildly retarded in all the right ways. –todd (Rapid Pulse)


SLAUGHTER AND THE DOGS:
A Dog Day Afternoon: CD
Sometimes some things come across better in a live forum than they do in the studio. Case in point, the last Slaughter and the Dogs studio album. I loathed it, all its overblown sound and ‘80s glam metal trappings besmirching the name of a band I once respected. And then Todd left this in my mailbox. This is a surprisingly good live album from these veterans, sporting good sound and spirited performances from all involved. Even the tracks off that last album are, at the very least, tolerable here, and the versions of "I'm Mad," "Where have all the Bootboys Gone," and especially the cover of "Who Are the Mystery Girls?” are top-notch. There may still be some life left in the old dog after all, although it might be a good idea to keep it out of the sterile confines of the studio and let it snarl instead in the clubs, where it belongs. –jimmy (TKO)


SKEPTICS, THE:
Right from the Heart: CDR
Millencolin’s demo that they scrapped to re-write and re-record. –don (The Skeptics)


SINGAPORE SLING:
The Curse Of: CD
Post Jesus and Mary Chain/Velvets alterna-rock, but nowhere near as jarringly abrasive as those two bands could be. Not bad, I guess, but so many bands have been down this road before ’em with better results. –jimmy (www.stinkyrecords.com)


SIDECAR:
You’re Killing Me: CD
I bet their friends were bummed when they didn’t get thanked. Then they heard the album. Then they were stoked, bra! This blows. Generic tattoo-rock. Straight from my trash to the Warped Tour. –megan (Three Mileage)


SICK LIPSTICK:
Sting Sting Sting: CD
Atonal no-wavy skronk with a singer who sounds like she repeated the third grade four times too many. Don’t know what it is about this particular subgenre that I find so fascinating, but this is the third disc I’ve listened to this reviewing cycle and it’s the third one I’ve found a really cool listen. Probably because I know that my repeated spins of this stuff is sure to drive my wife crazy. See, you GOTTA do shit like that every now and then to keep your significant other on her toes. –jimmy (Tiger Style)


SHUTDOWN 66:
Welcome to Dumpsville: CD
How do I not notice that there’s a guy holding maracas on the cover of the CD when I pick it up? Fuckin maracas! That said, I do not like this. Sounds pretty much like every other hipster ‘70s rock/garage-ish/trashy facade/yelling type thing going around now, but with worse vocals. –megan (Get Hip)


SOCIALS, THE:
Narrow Minded Entertainment for a Close Minded America: CD
Female-fronted minimalist punk reminiscent of a less catchy Urinals. –jimmy (Stay Real)


SONS OF HERCULES, THE:
Right Now: CD
Another serving of Texas bar-punk (kinda like a less-memorable Lazy Cowgirls, but more Flaming Groovie-ish) from this seemingly immortal outfit, fronted by a guy appropriately fossilish enough that i'd like to think his worldview has "punk" starting with Mouse & The Traps or the Thirteenth Floor Elevators, and continuing unabated in a straight line thru the Hates and Dicks and Mullens and whoever the fuck else – ongoing and eternally continuous, with no weird detours or asterisked subgenres – and power to him. I don't think this one's as good as Hits for the Misses – their best, although to be honest i've never heard anything truly spectacular by them – but i always kinda thought this band's appeal was designed to be appreciated best live in a smoky barroom drinking cold longnecks of Pabst™ (or inferior local equivalent) on a hot summer night anyway. Rock on. BEST SONG: "Digging Your Own Grave" BEST SONG TITLE: "Snake People" (in a related matter, i have decided that "proximity to rattlesnakes" is why when non-Texans put percussion devices such as maracas and shakers in a song, it comes off as fey and effete production frippery, but when Texans do it, it sounds mean and ass-kicky-like) FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Singer is wearing paisley shirt. Please make a note of it. –norb (Suprema)


SHEMPS, THE:
On 45: 7"
With a name like The Shemps, it must be another crappy pop punk band with ten CDRs on Mutant Pop, right? Wrong! Surprise! Surprise! The Shemps are a garage punk band and they rock! Great jump-up-and-down music – catchy, with a nod to The Jam and the Rip Offs, and here we go! This is Cracklin’ Oat Bran! The name makes it sound awful, but it’s so fucking good! –Maddy (Weekend)


SCRAWL, LE:
Too Short to Ignore: CD
Holy Christ-crankin muttonchops, if this ain’t the fucked-upedest record I’ve heard in years, if not ever! I’m gonna call them a grind band, as that’s the common element, but EVERY SINGLE SONG (there are sixty-six) jumps from grind to one or more other things and back again like a flea on a meth binge: lounge jazz, ska, other kinds of jazz I don’t know the name of, disco (they cover “Good Times”), flute solos, you name it. I wanna say it’s like the Residents doing Napalm Death, but that seriously barely approaches the amazingly curdled reality of these German fruitcakes. I don’t even know if I like the fucking thing; every time I put it on, my jaw drops open and stays that way until it goes off. Jeez. –Cuss Baxter (RSR/Life Is Abuse)


SHOTWELL / GIANT BAGS OF WEED:
Split: 7"
Shotwell: Imagine if Fifteen’s music didn’t suck almost as bad as the lyrics, that it was smart, duct tape and crossed-fingers Crimpshrine-glorifying punk with a few more pop elements. Then, you’d get Shotwell. The music smells of rotting sneakers and shirts that have mildewed and fused to the body from weeks of unwiped sweat. That’s a compliment. GBOW: Before Jawbreaker as we know it gelled, they released a demo under the name Rise and Blake didn’t sing lead. (A guy named John Liu did.) This reminds me of that demo tape, while mixing in some Husker Du guitar wash. It’s swelling, creative punk that’s sensitive and subtly complex, but isn’t being a pussy about it. For two bucks, you could do a lot worse. –todd (Half Day)


SHOCKER, THE:
Up Your Ass Tray: CD
Upon seeing that The Shocker is the latest outfit former L7-er Jennifer Finch has up and rolling, I was more than interested to see what she has going on here, being that I’ve always been quite a big fan of the mighty L7. The Shocker pretty much stick to the formula Jennifer rocked out of the speakers back in her L7 days, and there are some pretty bad-ass cuts here, my faves being “Your Problem Now” and “Break in Two.” There’s a cover here of Kim Carnes’ “Angel of the Morning” that will make even your hippy-dippy Mom break out in fist-pumping glee. And while she’s busy rocking, you can frisbee all her Fleetwood Mac and Eagles vinyl out the window, replacing it with more suitable LPs such as this one – if you love yer Mom, you’ll do it. Good release here and I’m looking forward to seeing it roar live. –dale (Oglio; <www.shockersite.com>)


SCRAPY:
Local Pub/Skank N’ Roll: CDEP
Quick taster from these street punks/skins who infuse ska into their music. This is one large band to tour around with. Almost like a gang, they are ten deep. They take elements of street punk, oi, ska and ‘50s rock’n’roll to make their songs enjoyable like a good pint of your favorite ale. These are tracks from their full length titled Saturday Night. From what I’ve heard off this release, further investigation needs to be instigated. –don (Mad Butcher)


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