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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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Self-Titled: CD
Due to the fact that I adored the band Discount, I often found myself thinking, “I wonder what happened to the rest of the band?” Allison is in the Kills and changed her name to “ceiling fan” or something. Jason went to House of Fire (whose debut EP is a fuckin’ mauler), but what ever happened to Bill, who had dreams of making a zine of him bathing in creamed corn? He shows up in the Routineers, a band with Amanda MacKaye (the lady who started Sammich Records in 1985, has returned the label from a long hiatus, and had put out early Soul Side and Swiz records.) “Thanks for the history lesson, Todd. But what do they sound like?” Like a mix between Slant Six—Amanda’s got a great, clear, forceful voice—and brainy, mid-period DC hardcore (think Rites of Spring more than Minor Threat, if you’re working on a slide rule). Angular, smart, but not afraid to throw some jabs. There’s a lot of indie rock skipping around this, too, but it’s not so bothersome for me since it doesn’t come across the least bit pretentious and the band peels out on several of the tracks. My favorite cuts are when the male and female vocals spring back and forth, like in “Messy Room.” –todd (Dischord/ Sammich)

Country Boy/Yeehaa: 7"
Imagine you’re at a party that your next door neighbors are having. A band is playing this wild rock’n’roll, a combination of “Girl Can’t Help It”-era Little Richard and This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb. It’s a punk rock chicken shack. Imagine the party runs out of beer. More is on the way. In the meantime, you go back to your apartment to drink the last beer in your refrigerator. You sit on your couch and drink your beer and listen to the band through the wall you share with your partying neighbors. The wall muffles the sound, but it’s still loud, it’s still a crazy rock’n’roll hoe-down. Imagine the good feeling that music and that last beer gives you. That’s what listening to this seven inch is like. –sean (www.vidalocarecords.com)

Spectre en Vue...: CD
I’ve always liked French pop; I used to hear it when I went in the Limited with my girlfriend and I’d be looking at shiny socks and metal things on pants and the French pop kind of made it sort of enchanting. This Robotnicka seems (I can’t find the part that says the people in it) to be a French band with maybe a Japanese singerlady, doing a Network-style synthpop deal with some Blondie, Melt Banana and Locust thrown in. I would like to watch the cartoon that they would do the soundtrack for. –Cuss Baxter (Bloodlink/Irrk/Maloka)

Backsides: CD
When I was talking to the Riverboat Gamblers’ singer, Mike, he told me about this CD. It’s some of their first recordings, covers, and comp tracks. Although not speaking ill of these songs, he was definitely looking to the future of the band, super stoked on the new songs they were recording. When I got it in the mail, I’ll be honest, I didn’t want to play it right off the bat. Something to Crow About, their latest, is quite possibly the best rock’n’roll punk album to come out in the last five years. How’re they gonna top that, you know? I just wanted the Gamblers to be in the happy rock place in my brain, right a the top of their game and not have it lessened. Time passed and I popped it in. Let’s just say that Mike’s a little too modest. This CD fuckin’ smokes. Sure, it’s rougher and the band was definitely finding its feet (and shuffling lineups), but good lord, ninety-nine percent of all bands would kill for A-side material of this caliber, let alone consider this B-side stuff. What’s also interesting is that you can hear the spasm punk rock ala the Bananas and Toys That Kill more directly than on Something to Crow About. So, the result: a different type of album, definitely not merely a collection of tossed-to-the-ground shit that was in fear of getting scuffed and dusty while trying to cash in on the Gamblers well-deserved reputation. Plus, it includes a blasting cover of the Motards’ “No No the Girlfriend,” “Jack O’Lantern,” also recorded by the Marked Men, and a song written by what looks like a werewolf. It’s hard to ignore talent this enormous. Since beauty comes from the inside, you’ll feel more glamorous if you crank this in your underwear and dance, dance, dance. –todd (Vilebeat; www.vilebeat.com)

Siren Song of the Counter Culture: CD
Hey! Don’t most bands that leave or get kicked off major labels go to Fat Wreck Chords instead of the other way around? Are these guys popular enough to get a major label offer after only three full lengths? The people at Fat are wonderful and I know their bookkeeping is on the up and up. I would figure an indie pays a better per-unit royalty than the major. Distribution couldn’t be the answer. Well, I wasn’t there so I would assume it sounded good to them. I don’t know if this is flying off the shelves, but this might be the one that breaks the camel’s back. I don’t know if they have the appeal to the masses to become successful. I remember when Schleprock went major and they disappeared after that. I think I was one of the few that liked that record. Here I am and I like this CD more than their previous material. At first, the mix was a bit annoying. The bass and drums are super loud in the 60hz and below range. I’m a music geek, so I have a pretty decent sound system in my car. The bass that pours through the woofers make me sound like I am listening to hip hop when you hear it outside the car. Waves of sound push and pull inside my car. The more I listened to the CD, I got what they were going after. Now when I listen to other music, I have to turn up the bass settings to capture the same sound. Musically, being removed from an indie title, they seem to be more adventurous. I would compare it to AFI’s latest record. It’s more of a rock sound with noticeably improved musicianship. I even dig the acoustic song “Swing Life Away.” I’ve turned a few friends who like a little bit of punk on to this CD. They seemed real receptive to the music. So I wish the band luck and hope they get the support they were looking for. If not, I hope they don’t give it up because they are a good band. –don (Geffen)

Off Key Melodies: CD
Fast melodic punk outta Gainesville, featuring members of Less than Jake, Army of Ponch and Savage Brewtality. I’m usually a sucker for this stuff, but this was a little too generic (even for fast melodic punk!) for my tastes. Decent, but not great. If this were a cereal, it’d be Cheerios. The standard base from which most cereals are made! The end! –Maddy (No Idea)

Look Who’s Pulling the Strings: CD
Cranky, smart aleck hardcore up to its neck in ‘80s Mystic records influence. If you listen closely, you may catch a stolen riff or two, like the one lifted from “Fuck Armageddon This is Hell.” Cool shit. The vinyl version of this is out on Lengua Armada Records, collector freaks, but this disc includes the band’s tracks from the Histeria 2 comp. –jimmy (Hi-Fi)

A Little Too Quiet...: CD
Sounds like the Cramps trying to match the frantic pace of prime New Bomb Turks, which is not a bad thing in my book. I’d be interested in hearing what this band could do without six thousand layers of reverb on the vocals, but this is a good start. Also, “White Lightning” is not a cover of the George Jones song of the same name. –Josh (RSSR, no address)

Free...: CD
Melodic punk from Austria that has the flavor of what I hear coming out of Europe recently. With tons of stuff I sift through month after month, I have to be hooked fast on a band’s music because I do not have the patience and time to grow into something. Even though well-executed, my interest level never wavered. I noticed the thinness in the guitar, an ambient aura of tone that reminded me of emo, and the weird mix in the drums that do no justice to highlight his ability. So here I stand as not a fan. –don (A-F)

Self-Titled: CD
Guitar rock sounding, old school ska-influenced punk with a rockabilly flair. These guys obviously dream about being The Clash. But hey, more bands that sound like The Clash can’t be that bad of a thing. JasonK –Guest Contributor (Chunksaah)

Rockin’ Sound: CD
...pardon my ever-lovin’ rectilinearity, but what-all does this activity called “shaking” entail? I mean, it certainly seems to be popular with our nation’s young people, but how do ya DO it? Am i to just sort of quiver precariously? To grab an external element such as a maraca or infant and shake them instead? Does this shaking involve my booty? Am i to just deliver an endless procession of secret handshakes? Is it more of a tremble or is it a full-fledged spasm? Because, i mean, this band really seems to endorse shaking, so i reckon i better get hip quickly, lest i be deleted from the roster of the Shaking Guild in short order. Actually, this band is really into all manner of unquantifiable activities—apart from Shaking, they are also into Rocking, Rocking And Rolling (which is different than just plain Rocking, as i understand things), Shaking with a Girl Who Knows How to Shake (well, fair enough. I mean, virginity is way overrated if you ask me), and Getting the Party Started, which seems so qualitatively verifiable and concrete as to appear almost square by comparison—and i kind of know how to Rock, and how to Rock And Roll, i think, but Shaking i’m completely clueless on. What i actually do know is that this record is not quite as good as their debut (which i felt was unnecessarily dismissed by many of my peers—it’s like, come on, what do you guys want with your shaking and rocking, a cure for cancer?), which means that, instead of being on the Better Rocking Thru Progress train like the Leg Hounds, or the Better Rocking Thru Breaking Up After One Record express like the Teenage Knockouts, these guys are actually hooked up with the Decreased Rocking Thru Radioactive Decay format, where the first album sets the standard of Rockingism (or, in this case, Shakeitude), and every subsequent album sounds just like the first one, except one half-life less rocking and shaking... i.e., Rockin’ Sound only rocks and shakes, say, fifty percent worth of Shakin’ at the Party, but the next one—presumably to be titled Both Rocking and Shaking with The Radio Reelers unless they start singing about Reeling as well as Rocking and Shaking—will only rock, shake and reel like fifty percent worth of Rockin’ Sound, which would only be twenty-five percent of Shakin’ at the Party. Once you get down below about twelve and a half percent, it’s time to call it a day. Anyway! The percentages quoted above were merely used for illustrative purposes; Rockin’ Sound actually rocks and shakes to the tune of about eighty or eighty-five percent of Shakin’ at the Party (which, for the record, i thought kinda rocked. Shook. Whatever), but, for a shit-simple high-energy punk-n-roll band like the Radio Reelers, that missing fifteen or twenty percent makes all the difference in the world (or all the difference between “yes, you should buy this record” and “eh,” whichever comes first). The problem is that if you’re gonna write songs like “S-H-A-K-E I-T,” they better goddamn well be PERFECT, or close enough to perfect for Rocking And Rolling—and “S-H-A-K-E I-T” somehow manages to blow its own hook (hmmm... i think i saw a movie about guys like that once) by delivering the line as “S-H-A (pause), K-E-I-T!”, which, to me, spells out “Sha Keit,” not “Shake It,” which sounds like the name of some guy on the FBI’s ten most wanted list, not as a heady command to tremble, quiver and spell. Actually, if i think about this record any more, i’m gonna spend about four hours musing over whether or not it’s a good idea for songs to have singalong parts that involve spelling out words with silent E’s, thus i will leave the determination of this album’s ultimate shakeworthiness as an exercise for the reader. BEST SONG: “Can’t Be My Baby” BEST SONG TITLE: “S-H-A-K-E I-T,” i guess, but shouldn’t there be a hyphen between the E and I? FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: The Radio Reelers currently have the coolest lightning bolts in rock & roll. –norb (Zaxxon Virile Action)

Corrupted: 7" EP
The Put-Downs aren’t flashy. They’re a deceptively simple band. No wheels are being reinvented. Sliced bread isn’t being debunked as history’s best invention. But, somewhere inside these four songs is some damn satisfying chili con carne punk that fans of no-bullshit, no-fanfare, obscure-by-geographic-location punk rock are sure to cotton to. It’s a good mix of loosely corralled melodies, greasy bass fingerings, and slight whiffs of honky tonk, all crumpled up so it’s not too showy. It begins to make sense when I put the pieces together. The band’s led by guitarist Paul, who served time in the Motards prior to moving to Southeast Texas. Yup, there are Motards stains and all over this. Perhaps a more laid back Chop Sakis reference wouldn’t be too off the mark, either. Paul also orchestrated the Put-Downs to play the Low Security Correctional Complex at Beaumont, Texas. That puts them in league with Johnny Cash. Well, not really, but they’re very good and it informs you of the career direction of the band. Let this one grow on you like weeds on the front lawn. –todd (Mortville)

Dance to the Potshot Record: CD
I found this in my review box with a note saying, “Megan, Japanese ska-punk,” which pretty much wraps it up. I’m not the biggest fan of ska-punk, ska-pop, ska-core, ska-whatever. I like my ska traditional with very few exceptions. That said, this is okay. The vocals are on the nasal side and none of it makes me want to dance to this record. –megan (Asian Man)

White Walls: CD
If you need a shot of Jesus in your punkabilly, you could do a lot worse than the Pioneers. The band plays a potent mix of the devil’s chords (think Link Wray, the Cramps, the Trashmen, you know, the usual suspects) and chases it with some craaaaaaazy lyrics about laying rubber on the way to the house of the Lord. Conceptually, it might sound about as aurally satisfying as Christian death metal, but anyone who prizes their mom and dad’s Kitty Wells and Ernest Tubb records (or Mahalia Jackson and Curtis Mayfield) understands the man upstairs has, perhaps inadvertently, inspired some pretty good music. Songs like “Me and My Lord and My Hot Rod Ford” and “Cruzin’” pay as much allegiance to fat fenders and white walls as they do the old rugged cross and that’s where most listeners will want to leave it. Preachy tracks like “Battle Cry” are strictly for the initiated. Feel like testifyin’? Drop in on the Pioneers at the Hot Rod Church for Sinners in Mission Viejo, CA where they’re the house band, performing free (‘natch) every Sunday morning. –eric (Self-released)

Rock and Roll Moustache Ride: CD
Were Pere Ubu gay? Because if they weren’t, these guys are the gay them. Poppier, too. –Cuss Baxter (Wrecked ‘Em)

Stupid Game: 7"
I’ve been wholeheartedly endorsing Snuffy Smile records for so long, I’m running out of new ways to sing their praises. This is disconcerting to me because I want to keep getting the review copies, and I know that I have to type for my music. So here goes: Pear of the West plays poppy punk rock, but it’s more than that. There are the sweet, pop-style female vocals, but they’re backed by music that’s more complex and textured than you’d expect. Think of a Japanese version of Discount. Then factor in happy, Jughead-style guitar riffs, and you’ve got yourself a doozy of a seven inch. Highly recommended. Pear of the West has also released a kickass full length, This Means Little Resistance..., and a split 7” with Servo on Snuffy Smile. Those are highly recommended, too. –sean (Snuffy Smile)

Harder and Harder: CD
...as much as Mike and John from the Hentchmen were the delightful embodiment of Chip & Ernie from My Three Sons made Rock in their previous band, so, in a miraculously inverted manner, do they now appear to we, the masses, as a titanic, granite-pectoral-muscled rhythm section of fucking ROCK, BABY, in their current band. Add to that a guitar player who sounds like he absorbed every relevant scrap of data from every great three-letter-first-named lead guitarist in history (i’m thinking “Ted” and “Ace” here, but you’re welcome to bring your own findings to the table), and it is apparent that a unit of Rock Most Imposing has been manifested. However, the REAL keystone in this Granite Arch O’ Boogie is one Miss Wendy Case, a shingle-throated chanteuse of such awe-inspiring HARDNESS and RAWITUDE that she makes Patti Smith seem like one of those buxom German broads whom one sees depicted toting around trays full of thick-bottomed beer mugs during Oktoberfest, and so blonde that she makes Penelope Houston seem like a brunette. I mean, fuck—Ian Stuart WISHES his vocals sounded this tuff on the first Skrewdriver album! If this chick gets locked up in the same cell as Angry Anderson of Rose Tattoo, it’s Angry who’s getting fucked up the pooper! Wendy Case is the fucking SHIT, and, when the band backs the intensity level down to mere Orange Alert status, it is apparent that we stand in the majestic presence of the thermonuclear-powered Faces of our time (although, as a gambling man, if you want my best guess on how many ounces of whatever that Wendy’s stomach would offer up if they pumped it after she passed out onstage, i’m advising you to bet the under). Needless to say, this might be the first time ever it could be said that a bitch has been the Paybacks. Okay, sorry, i couldn’t stop myself. BEST SONG: “Me” BEST SONG TITLE: “Jumpy,” because it sounds like something Rene Hall would’ve written on the Unitar. FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: For the back-cover-gazers among you, “Celebrate Summer” is not a misspelled Hüsker Dü cover, but is, in fact, a most outstanding rendition of the last T. Rex single to be released in Marc Bolan’s lifetime. Double kudos for the band, as i never saw that song as anything other than a missed cover opportunity for the Silicon Teens. –norb (Get Hip)

Split: LP
Pack: Screaming Euro hardcore from Switzerland, I believe, all rude and crusty and angry, as it should be. S.O.L.: More of the same, this time from a band who hails from Germany. On the whole, I gotta say, this was just the kinda noise necessary to break up the monotony. –jimmy (rinderherz@gmx.net)

Typical: CD
Never mind the overall “Darlington tries really hard to be the next Plimsouls but just can’t quite make it to Teenage Fanclub-land” feel to most of the songs. Ignore their pretty inane lyrics. Just focus on the fact that “Can’t Let You” is one HOT FUCKING SONG. Drony, jangly guitar hook, perfectly sparse lyrical content, driving beat, THIS is what long, late night drives and loud stereos were made for. If this were an EP or single with maybe “Hot Robot” and “On and On” on the flip, I would be personally handing copies of this out to everyone I happened upon. As it is, the other tunes are starting to grow on me. Sneakily catchy, this one is. –jimmy (www.theoaoats.com)

Forget Me Hot: 7" EP
Since this record included one of those cool yellow Fisher Price record-hole-fillers (Attention: jargon-free zone!), I wanted to like it. But, in the end it’s just pretty generic power pop. If this were a cereal, it’d be Kix. Basic stuff here! And, upon viewing their website, I’d like to say the following: band-based message boards are lame! A great band is supposed to make you want to scream along until you’re hoarse, dance till you collapse from exhaustion, or just sit in your room and wallow in your own pathetic existence. A great band is NOT supposed to inspire you to write on a message board! What is this world coming to? –Maddy (Not It)

Regime Change: CD
A theme album of sorts, featuring biting, sarcastic lyrics set to samples of Herr Bush’s speeches, Tones on Tail, Blazing Saddles, the Cure, Ministry and others, as well as some original music programming of their own. Some funny, creative dissent here, and “Bush in 200 Words or Less” should be mandatory listening on Election Day. –jimmy (Noodle Muffin)

Necromania: CD
If these Nitz aren’t already used to hearing themselves being compared to the Dwarves and Zeke, they better get used to it quick. Like those two bands, the Nitz play songs like a halfwit autistic kid bashing the guts out of a cat with a meat tenderizer. Their music comes rushing out your speakers like some apoplectic gorilla gone apeshit and you can only hop on its back and hold on for dear life or be trampled into a pile of goo. Sure, some nay-sayers are probably going to say the Nitz are shamelessly ripping off Dwarves/Zeke riffs right out in broad daylight and that they should rightfully consider renaming themselves “Dweke.” And they might be right. In fact, if you told me this was a top secret Blag Dahlia/Marky Feltchtone side project, I’d believe it. But who cares? When you’ve got full-bore adrenaline music this pure, who gives a fuck where it comes from? This pleases me well. –aphid (Reptilian)

Great Expectations: The Singles Collection: CD
I remember back in the mid-1980s, when bands like New Model Army were prevented by the State Department from entering the U.S. The reason? “Lack of artistic merit,” said Reagan’s flunkies. It was a bizarre time that saw other lefty bands, like the Angelic Upstarts, being banned for thinly-veiled political reasons rather than the usual drug busts or criminal records. Listening to Great Expectations: The Singles Collection it’s obvious that “artistic merit” couldn’t possibly have been the true reason they were banned; NMA were really about as musically threatening as the Alarm. Earnest, smart, and talented, their songs had a lot of sweeping guitars where pumped-up, in-your-face power chords would have been preferable (at least to my ears). In the end, NMA was really an electrified folk band, not unlike the Mekons, and their influence would later be felt in the anarcho-crusty songs of the best folk-punk band of the lot, the Levellers. Great Expectations is an excellent introduction to a band whose righteous anger was always on display, even if it wasn’t always manifested in the punk venom of other political bands like D.O.A. or the Dead Kennedys. –eric (Superfecta)

Separate Beds? I Don’t Think So: CD
First off, if they were really so compelled as to have to have their name be like half of “Nervous Eaters” plus half of “Morning Shakes,” i’m not so sure i wouldn’t’ve rather had them call themselves the Morning Eaters. Next off, this album probably could’ve been titled Three Breasted Woman, owing to the fact that it is stacked so peculiarly—the first twenty-five percent or so is basically these more or less inept rock & roll numbers revolving around sex, shaking, and positive comments on the appearance of one’s own ass (“Get the fear, it’s Saturday night—Sex! Sex! Sex-Sex-Sex-Sex!” the guy yowls, with all the convincingness and swagger of Ron Howard on that episode of Happy Days where Fonzie let Richie borrow his apartment above the Cunninghams’ garage for his hot date)—and, just when one gets the feeling that the main point of debate for this album is whether it’s Retarded Good, Retarded Bad, Retarded Both or Just Plain Retarded, they kick in with some kinda King/Rassler Queers song (“Number One”) that i musta missed on account of i left the gig to get bubblegum and Pop Rocks™ or something, followed by a token sex toy song (“Swedish Love Gun”)—and THEN the band inexplicably cranks into an extended suite of sloppy, brilliant pop/rock/punk/roll tunes not unlike the Real Kids or Yum Yums’ tight-jeaned, leopard-spotted-shirted, black-hair-dyed weird cousins (said suite to include a cover of “Be a Man” by the Brats, better known as the third song on the first side of the Infections album [let the record show that the only Brats song i was familiar with In The Day was “First Rock Star on the Moon”]). I mean, the last seventy-five percent of this record is, like, great—but the first twenty-five percent is practically a joke. Actually, it’s probably just some manner of extended Belgian Mind Fuck; i’m sure they knew what they were doing all along. Kinda like most foreign films, though, this one makes more sense if you enter in the middle. BEST SONG: “Brat” BEST SONG TITLE: “Get the Fear” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: The songwriting credits for “Can’t Stand You” are nonexistent, but, the credits for the hidden track, “Suzie,” are quite evident. Huh. –norb (Nun)

Dead Girls Don't Cry: CD
Like their fellow travelers the Horror Pops and Tiger Army, the Nekromantix offer up fat, meaty basslines, diddly-diddly-diddly guitars and frantic drums for the heavily tattooed. These three Danes pick up the Reverend Horton Heat’s demonic punkabilly, add more than a hint of neo-gothic imagery (may as well cross over to as many audiences as possible, right?) and have subsequently earned a helluva substantial following both here in the States and in Europe. Dead Girls Don’t Cry, featuring a very imaginative “Nosferatu” cover, is chock-a-block with the sort of cheesy b-movie horror imagery first pioneered by folks like the Cramps. That’s fine for the most part, although tracks like “Where Do Monsters Go,” sound more than a little bit forced. That’s not surprising given the album was, by the band’s own admission, written on the fly with most of the lyrics dreamed up in a single night. Their follow-up to their 2002 debut (Return of the Loving Dead) offers no real surprises and those familiar only with their live sets may be disappointed. Those who are already fans will likely have less of a problem with the lyrical shortcomings. –eric (Hellcat)

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·Interview with The Spits

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