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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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Old School Pride: CD
Normally, I stand by my reviews 100%. But I’m not sure about this one. You see, last night I got drunk at a friend’s cabin and, somewhere in the blurry wee morning hours, I tottered off and fell into one of the nearby beds. When I awoke, I discovered that I had been sleeping in a queen-sized mouse litter box. There were little dark brown cigars lying about everywhere; on top of the blanket, between the sheets and, best of all, on the pillow that had been cradling my big soggy head for several hours. It may be psychosomatic, but right now I’m not sure I can feel my lower extremities. I’m almost sure that Hanta virus is now pooping out its own poisonous little cigars into my kidneys and brain right now. I’m probably a goner. But delirious as I might be, the review must go on. So here we go: Um, this band has got a retro band name and a ghoulish blood-dripping font and a skull that’s on fire – all of which, one would assume, is a sort of homage to the Misfits (back before they sported the egregious devilock/male-pattern baldness look and kicked out lame, mouseshit awful music.) So that’s cool by me. But this doesn’t really sound like the Misfits. Musically, the title pretty much sums it up: old school and proud of it. First time around I thought it sounded a bit workman-like, but now – with hanta virus lobbing molotov cocktails into my poor grey mush – it has a nice pissy urgent bounce to it. Does it sound like a slightly less meaty Sick Of It All or am I hallucinating? Fuck, I don’t know. Whatever, I like it. If I can somehow manage to push the Grim Reaper down the stairs and I’m not in a pine box in a few days, I’m gonna kick back and enjoy this thing properly.  –aphid (psychoseventyeight@hotmail.com)

Last Year’s Wife—The Collection: CD
A reissue of a wholly obscure (at least on the Americocentric side of the planet) proto-goth band that, based on this, shouldn’t be. I guess the liner notes provide ample explanation, though—while a band with tunes that uncommonly hit the “jeez these guys are good” mark with great frequency, they only managed an EP or two, one of which included the supposed goth-dance hit “Last Year’s Wife” before tossing in the towel. Those tracks are compiled here, along with quite a few demos, showcasing their ability to plunder the best parts of the Bauhaus and the Psychedelic Furs and make it all sound fresh and original. While the wisdom of the endless reissuing of music by everyone who ever stood in front of a mic will probably be hotly debated for the rest of the planet’s existence, in this case it’s actually a good thing.  –jimmy (Cherry Red)

Creator/Destroyer: CD
Epic doesn’t have to mean shitty unicorns jumping over the Grand Canyon while dolphins suck them off, rainbows issuing from their blowholes. As any quick survey of chaos theory will supply, we know so little about fungus, foam, what compels people become parking police, and synapses that control addiction—the itty-bitty shit that should already be conquered but is fascinatingly complex. We March are broken egg yolks, diseases that shouldn’t exist because the vaccine’s already been made, ice the color and texture of asphalt taking up the side of winding country road, an ungrounded plug in a socket with unregulated current, pee mixing with blood and used oil with charred bits floating in it. Basically, you don’t know what you’re going to get, but the stage is set for someone to break a bone or hearts. Musically, this is in a Fleshies, This Moment In Black History, early Stooges, Chargers Street Gang sort of way. It’s a dirty, seemingly unstructured chaos that, with repeat listens, is really a thousand dirty-fingernailed fists hammering ears at once, striking all that harder because you don’t quite know what the fuck’s coming next. Excellent.  –todd (Non-Prophet, no address, but when you Google the name, an ad for joining the Mormons comes up.)

Split: 7"
The cover art on the White Barons side of this 7” is so goddamned stupid I honestly wanted to skip their song and write a piece of wild fiction for their half of the review. It appears they have an image, that of a snarling, large-breasted woman wielding two broken bottles of Jack Daniels menacingly, that they want to foster. Based on the unimaginative, cheese dick cover illustration, I didn’t want to like their song, “Logical Conclusion,” but there is something undeniably catchy and over-the-top about it. I’m on the third listen and it has sunk its rawk-styled, New Bomb Turks hooks deeply into me. Damn it all to hell. The Dead City Rockers song, “I Wanna Be Poor,” is a mid-tempo rocker (how fitting!) that is instantly forgettable. The singer sounds a lot like Joe Strummer and the music is staid and uninspired. Looks like the warning, “This shit will fuck you up!” on their side of the cover was completely unwarranted.  –benke (Champagne & Cocaine)

Paralyzed: CD
Second long-player from this doom metal trio from Vermont. Oh yeah, they have this drummer guy playing with them—J Mascis? Correct.—but that’s not the reason you want this one. Super sludgy riffage, plodding rhythms, and creepy lyrics make this one a must have. “Psychotic Rock” is not only a warped tune on here, but a great way to think of Witch’s style. Blast this one in your backyard late at night and then wander off into the woods. You’ll scare the crap out of yourself for sure.  –koepenick (Tee Pee)

Inva De Siva: CD
I remember a few years back when Pinback made it huge. They had a sound similar to Modest Mouse, but sounded more compelling and bass that was a little thicker and more driving. This San Diego band takes its cue cards from Pinback to the point of losing its own identity. I thought I was actually listening to a Pinback song. Over and over again, ‘cause this is a one trick pony. The recording sounds great, and the musicianship is there, but I can’t help but feel that the sincerity is lost in unoriginality. I live in San Diego and I guess they had to let the reviewer know they have been nominated for “best alternative band” in the San Diego Music Awards, which I never give an ounce of credit to, anyway. Guys, use your talent to create something new!  –Buttertooth (Manaloft)

Wolf It Down: 12”EP
I really can’t stand this obnoxious, deafening record. Wolfdowners are from Cleveland and play slow to mid-tempo, lo-fi punk with lots of wah-wah pedal and saxophone. It has a nice, sleazy vibe at times but tries too hard in an annoying attempt at “too cool for you” sludge. Maybe with the right amount of beer imbibed and/or splashed on one’s clothes these guys would be fun to see live, but this unintentional cock rock record is the musical equivalent of a cock block.  –Art Ettinger (Parts Unknown)

Self-titled: 7"
I really, really like these songs. Initially, I thought they were totally wild and lacked all conventional song structure, and then as I listened to them over and over again, I realized they were just really fucking good. Like when I saw the Carrie Nations (Georgia) play, I thought they were good but I only bought their CD because they were really nice people and were fun to joke around with. Well, the fact of the matter is that those songs are fucking mind-blowing. In the same way as that Carrie Nations’ CD, these four Young Offenders are pretty fucking mind-blowing—but substitute the folkie acousticness for poppy post-punk—and you have an amazing 7”.  –Daryl Gussin (Parts Unknown)

Self-titled: 7”EP
There was a long stretch in the mid-to-late ‘80s and early ‘90s that—barring obvious exceptions—punk rock was in a dire stretch. This is conjecture: the Young Offenders are older dudes who had to live through that relative dry spell, so it makes sense that a new band goes to the achin’ roots of punk, harvests them by the handfuls, and conditions them to something along the lines of home brewing. Yeah, there’s Elvis Costello; yeah, there’s Adverts; but there’s also The Observers, The Marked Men, Giant Haystacks, and No Hope For The Kids. Here’s a seemingly small—but ultimately important—distinction. All of those influences get processed—from being purified into thick malt to being poured and patiently fermented into individual bottles. It’s the craft in which they’re re-presented is what’s so striking. Basic, age-old ingredients become new fuel in now-time. You don’t have to know any of this process, really. Open the bottle, drink, enjoy. But if you can hear that care for detail, realizing all the crappy chaff they left out—as much as what they put in—the enjoyment to listening along to this 7” becomes much deeper. Hell yeah.  –todd (Parts Unknown)

Chasing .500: CD
The mark of ADD Records is now universally accepted as a sign that any piece of music is, at the bare minimum, a fuckton of awesome. And that’s in metric! I’m unfamiliar with this band, but they remind me of Grabass Charlestons, only minus the grainy vocals. If this is their first release, then I expect nothing but great things. Bonus: Awesome art by Keith Rosson.  –Bryan Static (ADD)

Wild and Wandering: CD
Okay, see, when you’re an old hardcore kid from L.A., there’s only one Wasted Youth—the local one responsible for tunes like “Problem Child,” “Teenage Nark,” and “Uni High Beefrag.” Though contemporaries, and who may have actually predated them by at least a few months, these Limey proto-goth post-punkers ain’t them. Based solely on that criteria (look, I never said I was smart, okay? You want smarmy, pseudo-intellectual rock “journalism”? Go read fuckin’ Rolling Stone) I’ve avoided even listening to anything by this band for twenty-nine years. So it pops up in the review piles, I figure what the hell, let’s give it a go, and do so. Well, the me of twenty-nine years ago would’ve dismissed it outright as woefully boring. The brand-spankin’ new, twenty-first millennium me, however, can appreciate it for what it is: a nice bit of proto-goth post-punk. The tunes are dark around the edges and experimental in sound with enough bite to keep it from coming off as a huge pretentious wankfest. No, it ain’t perfect, and the live tracks tacked on could’ve been easily shitcanned—no one but the most anal retentive fan missing ‘em—but things are consistently interesting and occasionally a tune as snotty and subversive as “I Wish I Was a Girl” comes along and makes you say, “cooool.” They may not be the true Wasted Youth, but they sure as hell ain’t bad.  –jimmy (Cherry Red)

El Libertario: CD
As of late, there have been a very small percentage of compilations released that I actually like. This comp falls into that small percentage. A benefit CD for El Libertario, an anarchist collective and newspaper based out of Caracas, Venezuela. A whole slew of bands from around the world fill this disc. Thirty-one bands play thirty-two tracks of punk, crust, and even hip hop. Bands like Misery, Apatia No, Nuclear Death Terror, Bait, Remains Of The Day, Auktion, Iskra, Disrespect, Visions Of War, and Dios Hastio are some of the bands on this comp. Calavera from France was my shocker of a discovery. They (or he, I’m not sure) reminded me of a French Dr. Dre. The hip hop tracks mixed in well to keep things interesting. All the bands on this release seem to have contributed a top quality song as opposed to so many bad comps out there with leftover tracks or filler. Quality didn’t stop at just the music. A well put together digipack package is also a feature. The cover inside and out has fantastic artwork by multiple artists and includes a huge booklet that is too big to be an insert. Don’t know how available this release will be, but if you run across it, definitely snatch it up if any of the bands mentioned are in your league.  –don (Fight For Your Mind)

Paid in Black—A Tribute to Johnny Cash: CD
There are likely hundreds of Johnny Cash tributes available and I have reviewed most of them. And, thankfully, this one passes muster with range of cohesive, agreeable, well-interpreted tracks that don’t stand next to each other like sixth graders at a snowball dance. With tracks moving from punk and psychobilly to rock and traditional and revival country, this is one of the more versatile tributes. The rollicking and spirited “Kneeling Drunkard’s Plea” by The Spookshow blissfully modernizes the Carter Family’s ageless four-part harmony, and The Ghoul’s “Cry, Cry, Cry” is a classic Austin-style singer/songwriter take. Great songs oft overlooked on Cash tributes are well-represented here, including “One Piece at a Time,” “Dark as a Dungeon,” and “Wanted Man.” I’m very pleased that The Bang Tale finally took seriously my open request to cover “Sunday Morning Coming Down”—and they did it well in an electrified-but-mellow ‘70s outlaw country style. Granted, there’s always the chance that some of these bands suck outside of this comp, but as far as Cash tributes go, this is my second-favorite (number one is Dressed in Black on Dualtone), despite the variances in production values on some tracks.  –thiringer (Wolverine)

The Sick Ones Vol 1: Psychobilly Compilation: CD
Aside from my laissez-faire attitude about the proliferation of brain-eating, nightmare-monster zombie songs with a fastidiously played bass and sneering vocalists, bands like the ones featured on this CD continue to raise the bar in the flooded, easily repetitive, and increasingly disappointing psychobilly genre. Features many tight, cleanly produced, stand-out tracks with both broad and specific appeal like those by The Brains, The Creepshow, Monster Klub, Dicemen, Matadors, Tombstones, and Stockmen. Flying Saucer consistently snatches up the finer examples of what good is left in the genre and this compilation is no exception.  –thiringer (Flying Saucer, www.flyingsaucerrecords.com)

Ohio’s City: CD
The music ain’t too bad in a post-Leatherface sort of way, and song titles like “I Used to be a Kid, I’m a Notary Public Now” are swell, but egads that singer is terrible.  –jimmy (no address)

Dracula School of Paper: CD
Let’s pretend that, when you were growing up, you used to watch a Saturday morning cartoon about a blue duck named Rosso. I think it was called “Wabeno Land.” Anyway, Rosso was not particularly bright, but he had all sorts of crazy ideas. In one episode, he built a robot out of toilet paper and somehow that robot turned into a really successful stand-up comedian. After each adventure, though, Rosso ended up back in the same place: at work in the junkyard, quacking about everything he would do right tomorrow as he dug through the glove compartments of beat up old Buicks. If Rosso formed a band, it would sound like Wabeno Rock Farm.  –mp (Self-released)

: 7"
Eight songs on a 45 with plenty of room to spare, okay? Hardcore songs that harken back to the day when people wrote stuff like this without feeling the need to splice in melodic instrumental breakdowns, grow their hair out like Farrah Fawcett, or croon emotively—in all seriousness—about their hands or dead trees. Know what I mean? Violent Minds just step in the room, assess the situation, and slay. Don’t know how repetitive a full-length would be, but goddamn, I’d love to be a fly on the wall at one of their shows, if only to watch the blood and sweat arc through the air.  –keith (Deranged)

Self-titled: 7"
Pungent noise—screamy—and I don’t have clue as to what they’re saying even though I’m reading the lyrics. I don’t think that they could possibly be singing what their artsy farsty lyrics say. I absolutely hate it, but I’m not so good with the scream bands. I tend to squint my eyes and turn my head as if my mom, a rare breed of velociraptor, were shouting at me for not doing the dishes. –Corinne  –Guest Contributor (Level-Plane)

A Tribute to Leatherface: CD
First off, tribute records blow sheep. What no doubt was a well intentioned way of honoring musical heroes has quickly turned into a way for sub-par bands to make a name and name bands to retain some sort of cred, resulting in people like KISS getting their names mixed up in a scene they probably once held in contempt. Further, to attempt to pay such a tribute to a band as revered and adored as Leatherface is tantamount to asking someone wearing steel-toed stiletto shoes dipped in boric acid to kick you repeatedly in the face. Let’s face it, the band elicits a reverence akin to a religious fervor in some quarters, and said quarter won’t take lightly to some quasi-tribute laying waste to their fine name. That said, this is actually quite good, so those responsible have probably averted the aforementioned stiletto shoed fate outline above, which has put a rather unpleasant image in my head and made me wish I’d not thought of it in the first place. I think what makes this one work is that they had the good sense to pick two discs worth of bands from the heart of Leatherface’s wing of fan(atic)s to do the tribute-paying—c’mon, it’d be crazy to have such a collection that didn’t include Radon, The Tim Version, Hot Water Music, Wat Tyler, and Tiltwheel in the ranks—and you end up with a tribute that sometimes actually comes close to rivaling the original versions. Hell, kudos to In The Red for not only winning the “who can rasp their vocals like Stubbs” contest, but also for turning in a version of “Patrick Kills Me” that could easily pass for the original. There are a couple of odd missteps—okay, we got that the tunes sound just as well delivered acoustically around the third track delivered thus, and the sole excursion into synth-land was as bad as can be expected—but on the whole, this was pretty danged swell.  –jimmy (Rubber Factory)

Mi Camino: CD
It seems that mid-tempo, tough guy hardcore sounds the same in Spanish too. It’s not terrible, but I got tired pretty fast. All the flames and shadowy band photos were pretty exciting, though.  –ty (Rebellion, www.rebellionrecords.nl)

In Search of the Truth: CD
Somewhere, Adam Bomb from the late, great “Final Countdown” radio show has just pooped his Underoos, and I’m inclined to join him. While together, Unseen Force managed to release one album that had a press run of, what, four copies, but what a doozy of an album it was. Full-bore yet highly catchy hardcore was their output, with the politically minded lyricism that was the order of the day in the ‘80s, this is one of the long-lost gems of the latter part of that decade that further adds to the proof things didn’t flatline by mid-decade like all them lame ass books say. Tacked on are some live tracks from a show at a California radio station (KXLU? KPFK? The liner notes don’t say) and a demo from an earlier band that fed into Unseen Force, making for one truly crucial addition to the collection. Wow, I’d forgotten all about these guys, and a pox on me for doing so.  –jimmy (Grave Mistake)

Self-titled: Cassette
After having popped it in and pressed play, I sat back and waited. I was immediately reminded of something my mom liked to say. Through the years, my mom has always commented, “I think there’s something wrong with the stereo,” whenever within distance of hearing my music. Well, my mother is about 350 miles away, so I had to say it for her. However, unlike her, I wasn’t being snide. I dug through a box where I thought I might find a tape to check the deck, and lo and behold, not only a Chuck Berry tape, but also a Panty Raid tape! They both played as well as a tape could play. I guess it’s the Turboslut tape. The tape is super quiet, and when I turn it up, the sound gets kinda muffled. What I can make out sounds really good. It’s anxiety-ridden, angry, and menacing. Think along the lines of Econochrist and Spitboy (Turboslut goes with female vocals), but not as gloomy. Still, it doesn’t lose its edge. The lyrics aren’t bad, either. Hopefully this band sticks around. I look forward to hearing a better (i.e. audible) recording. –Vincent Battilana (Self-released, www.turboslut.org)

Gloatin & Showboatin: DVD/CD
An instant classic for your St. Patrick’s Day rotation: Chicago’s favorite sons live at the Cabaret Metro theater in Chicago on March 17, 2006. The Tossers, a seven-piece Celtic punk band, already enjoyed a special place in my heart, and the DVD only deepened my devotion. Aaron Duggins kicks things off by cursing the people who bought him all the whiskey that made him “half retarded” and then called for the crowd to “Bring on the young girls and free cocaine!” (He may have been kidding about the girls.) There’s plenty of the Tossers original material (“Good Mornin’ Da,” “I’ve Pursued Nothing,” and “No Loot, No Booze, No Fun,” which is dedicated to Dee Dee Ramone), but the second half of the set is filled with Irish drinking tunes, rebel songs, and traditional arrangements, which is precisely the way it ought to be on the holiest drinking day of the year. It’s not a perfect production. The sound isn’t always synched up as smartly as one would like, but the cameras get close to their subjects which makes for an intimate hour with the band. Extras include a handful of videos and live performances and there’s a second disc with the live show on audio CD. A must have for proud Paddies of every generation.  –Jim Ruland ()

Supernova: CD
Holy hell, this is intense. It’s a loveless wreck of commotion overlaid with gravel-throated, mostly unintelligible vocals that are equally likely to ravage the throat of the “singer” as they are the ears of the listener. While it does take a few forays into political commentary and offbeat industrial touches here and there, it always ends up going back to the spewing guitars and light speed drumming that ask you how fast you can slam your neck. By basic classification, it’s loud, noisy, heavy metal, but this kind of simplification is unable to convey just how sincerely disturbed this is. Originally from 1993, Supernova is one in a series of TITD re-releases on their fresh label of the same name. Now, while the new version’s slick packaging, lyric booklet (largely pointless) and retouched cover are all nice to have, how could anyone dare to consider remastering something that comes off as the soundtrack to an alien baby bursting out of its fetal pod to begin hunt for earth-flesh? Remastering should be reserved for bands who thrive on a cleaner, more accessible sound; let this fucker live to conquer in the way it originally appeared. –Reyan  –Guest Contributor (Supernova)

Split: 7"
A tour 7” for a short East Coast tour that happened in September of 2007, which I have no recollection of ever hearing about. But that could be the old age and failing brain cells working against me. Total Fury: three in-your-face, fast punk jams from this early ‘80s East Coast-loving band from Japan. A cover is performed from a band called Second Wind, which I have never heard of. Not the best choice for a lead-off track, since their originals blew them away. I would have definitely put the cover as the last track. Pandamonium: Hailing from Minneapolis, these five ladies and a dude hold their own with their own brand of thrashing punk. Three songs that are raging, gritty, and fast. They also cover a Los Crudos song that is fitting to the style of music that they play. I wish this tour was on the West Coast. I would have definitely gone to one of the shows.  –don (One Percent)

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