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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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KNOCKOUT PILLS, THE:
1+1=Ate: CD
If you saw the interview of this band in issue fifteen, you know that this band is well liked at HQ. That doesn’t mean everybody thinks alike and has the same taste. That would mean that we are robots who only like what we are programmed to like. I admit that a lot of bands the other writers like do not suit my tastes and vice versa, but there is overlapping. Here is another case of it. I did not go out of my way to check out this band after seeing them profiled in the mag. Eight issues later, I get a CD to review. Cool stuff here. Garage punk that goes straight to the gonads with tinges of psychedelia and a surf beat. As soon as the music came pouring out of the speakers, I wanted to start shaking violently. Whoo! What fun! The song “Summertime Rundown” is my fave here. Catchy with the tongue-in-cheek female background vocals make for a song that stays on the mind for a long time. With so many bands recording on ProTools these days (mine included), it’s refreshing to hear someone record on a four-track and get great results. –don (Estrus)


KNOCKOUT PILLS, THE:
1+1=Ate: CD
Oh yes, this does rock! Totally amazing punk rock from Tucson, Arizona! Take classic pop and rock melodies and add garage punk frenzy! This CD even made me dance around in my room like a fool—at eight in the morning! If you don’t like this, then you don’t like rock and roll! If this were a cereal, it’d be Rice Krispie Treats. (Yes, it does exist as a cereal!) You’d think, “This is gonna be generic garage rock/Rice Krispies,” but then you realize, it’s so much better than that because… it’s congealed with marshmallows! Yum! –Maddy (Estrus)


KNOCKOUT PILLS, THE:
1+1=Ate: CD
Sweet, solid punk rock from a band mining the same territory as the Marked Men, but with their own indelible stamp. Sometimes I hear snatches of early Beatles buried somewhere in the structure of their back up vocals, which is just a tad unnerving every time I detect it. On the whole, I’d have to say that this was some pretty rockin’ stuff here. –jimmy (Estrus)


KNOCKOUT PILLS, THE:
1+1=Ate: CD
In the Hinterlands—and possibly in other areas of the world as well, though i cannot say with any certainty—there is a certain state of mind one can settle into on the weekend, in the time period after Daylight Savings Time has been revoked, but before Spring (or Daylight Savings Time, whichever comes first—i kinda forget), when there is really no impetus to leave the house (although you will, occasionally, exit the home for some manner of brief walk or something, just to see what it’s like out there), and one has been sitting around the house all afternoon, playing records, and, for want of a better term, “rocking out” all day. I mean, for a while there, you’re the King Of The World (Or At Least The Living Room)—you’re cranking records at maximum volume, chugging caffeinated beverages—i mean, why not? It’s Winter so there’s nothin’ else to do today!—basically living like a pig in shit, simply because there’s no reason to go outside, so, strangely, you’re “free” from having to do anything but sit inside and crank tunes. Anyway, maybe you’ve been drinking all day—perhaps you’ve had a tussle with the halflings’ leaf—perhaps you’re just messed up on Diet Coke™ with Lime—but, sooner or later, the sun is gonna start going down, and you’re gonna need to eat supper—so, you realize that your more or less uninterrupted state of sitting on the couch ROCKING THE FUCK OUT is going to be broken up by the physical necessity of you having to get up, turn lights on, make some supper, get ready to do whatever it is that you have to do that night (that by that time you don’t really feel like doing), etc.—so, basically, the last album you play before the light fails, and nature forces you to take a break from the state in which you have found such joy—rocking out on the couch in the daylight—has got to be a certain, special kind of album; an album that is conducive to listening to it during the last failing minutes of daylight; an album that will somewhat quietly announce that Phase One of the day is over, and the listener must now get dressed, make supper, and solidify his plans for The Night; and, most importantly, an album that enhances the experience of looking at the little green and red lights on the stereo, because that’s what ya do when the sun goes down: Start noticing what the little lights on the stereo look like in the gloom. It is my opinion that 1+1=Ate is such an album (i cannot say with any certainty as Daylight Savings Time will extend for four more weeks as of the time of this writing). On the one hand, this is a good thing, as a Last-Song-Before-The-Light-Fails album has a certain specific masterfulness to it that stimulates the listener, yet allows them to sort of thoughtfully muse on the Great Deeper Meaning of the lights on the stereo as well. On the other hand, to have the album sit in abeyance until the waning moments of sunlight also betrays a certain non-immediacy, because, i mean, if the album grabbed us by the nards and socked us in the forehead, wouldn’t we have played it more around 1 PM than waiting ‘til the sun was almost down to spin it? Be that as it may, i am virtually certain that this album will be a virtual colossus in the “fading-daylight” genre, and it sounds like the spring-wound blast of early Heart Attack (hold the Jesse Malin germs), with the Dickies on the far left of their spectrum and the Armitage Shanks on the right. In light of current recording techniques that yield loud, “good” sounding records with no personality whatsoever, i’m down with the 4-track production—however, if Lou Reed was right when he said that “cymbals eat guitars,” there are likely a whole buncha Zildjians sitting around the Knockout Pills’ practice space belching, picking their teeth, and scratching their necks whenever a new, inexplicably emptied guitar case makes itself manifest. All in all, a Fading Daylight album is likely the most difficult type of album to successfully mastermind—thus do i consider myself officially knocked out. At this time i suggest you hold a mirror beneath my nose and check for condensation. BEST SONG: “Summertime Rundown” BEST SONG TITLE: “Stab Wound Baby” or “Wait for the Apex” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT; Throwing out the low score (“Target H,” first song, 2:00) and the high score (“Wait for the Apex,” last song, 4:39), the other ten songs are all between 2:15 and 2:36 in length. –norb (Estrus)


KILLER DREAMER:
Self-Titled: LP
I’m betting a 40 oz. right now that one of these dudes has huffed paint, glue, or gas in the last three years. If I’m wrong, the Country Club’s on me and I’ll bring four straws. And if you think that’s a slag, you’d be mistaken. Killer Dreamer are action rock flag wavers for DIY punk that fits right nicely between Toys That Kill (sometimes right on the button) and The Horrible Odds. It’s spastic, fun, catchy, puke-where-you-stand stuff that goes by too quickly. If you’re a sucker for zombies in rock songs, can’t get enough of hearing songs about body parts falling off, rot, decay, and misanthropic (yet endearing) attitudes, this’ll peel you off the couch. Upon repeated listens, undoubtedly enhanced by the brightly colored paranoia-informed album artwork, Land of the Lost-era The Freeze comes to mind, too. Curved boner, wide-smile, degenerate punk continues to be mighty fun. –todd (Kapow)


KILL VAN HELSING:
Alien Hotrod: CD
What about European bands who take a stab at that distinctly American art form, surf music? Kill Van Helsing, are perfectly adept at re-creating the treble-y snazz of the early ‘60s surf groups and throw in a little b-movie horror schtick in for a little extra flavor. This ain’t the whiter-than-Wonder-bread sound of the big label California groups, this is the sound of an Orange County garage being shaken to its foundation by four young punk kids who haven’t yet discovered a mixing board. Granted, the garage is in Somerset, England and the highest waves the members have ever seen are the two-inch breakers of the cold, cold Atlantic. But the end product resonates with a gritty enthusiasm that should dispel the reservations of even the most skeptical ear. Like a lot of surf groups, the band is at their best in the studio (the second half of Alien Hotrod is live and features a weak cover of “Baby Please Don’t Go”). Still, they should be worth checking out when they come to Hollywood later this year. –eric (Western Star)


KIDS OF WIDNEY HIGH, THE:
Act Your Age: CD
There’s something inherently conflicting about the artistic work of the mentally disabled. In the case of Wesley Willis, for example, those of us who loved the repetitive, Casio odes to his favorite rock bands had to ask, “Is this stuff genuinely funny? Or am I laughing at this poor soul’s exploitation?” Of course this begged the question, “If he enjoys what he’s doing, who am I to protest?” The Kids of Widney High are, like Willis, mentally challenged in one way or another but unlike Willis, have the benefit of a fully functioning band to back them up. The results are not just competent, they’re admirable. And not admirable in a cloying, condescending sort of way—Act Your Age smacks of the same goofy humor one finds in early Camper Van Beethoven. But where that band made a conscious effort at being irreverent, the Kids of Widney High are simply trying to capture their day-to-day existence—fears, frustrations and all. Highlights include the punky “I Make My Teachers Mad” (“Throw chairs across the room/My teacher comes over and hits me with a broom/Throwing dumpsters down the hall/I hear my name being called”), the self-empowering “Miss Understood” (“When I walk down the street/People stop and stare/They don’t know what’s wrong with me/They make a mean face”) and the quasi-Calypso “Two Faces of Fidel,” a thoughtful analysis of Castro’s place in history. Most telling however, is the title track, a rote listing of (mostly) conventional advice given to children. You might be amazed how quickly tracks like “Life without the Cow” and “E-L-V-I-S” sink into your consciousness. –eric (Moon Man)


KARATE:
Pockets: CD
I’m with these guys: Steely Dan did rock too god damn hard! Thank God someone finally had the good sense to back off on that Unholy Pagan Rock Throttle—however, i am now too consumed with the burning question of “In a standard Karate competition, who would win: The Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers™ or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles™?” to enjoy it. BEST SONG: They don’t have songs, they’re an anarcho-syndicalist collective. BEST SONG TITLE: “Alingual,” but it’s a darn shame they couldn’t find some way to do away with the music as well. FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: NOT FOR RESALE. FOR PROMOTIONAL USE ONLY. PROPERTY OF SOUTHERN RECORDS. Fine. I’m done with it. Please come and get it now or i’ll have you ticketed for littering. –norb (Southern)


JUNKYARD:
Tried and True: CD
The quasi-sleaze punk of bands like Nashville Pussy or the Streetwalkin’ Cheetahs always seems to be precariously positioned between the best and the worst of their ‘70s rock god influences. Whether drawing on the bombast of Black Sabbath, the cock rock of AC/DC or the guitar wankery of Ted Nugent, these bands want to have their cake and eat it too… not an easy feat when you think that punk evolved as a reaction to the excesses of the rock aristocracy. Listening to Junkyard’s 2002 release Tried and True, a lot of questions immediately come to mind—like, why don’t these guys get a more punctual publicist? The band, including former members of Minor Threat and Texas punk legends the Big Boys, have trod a long and moderately successful road that included a 1991 record deal with Geffen. But Tried and True is, as the title unfortunately implies, the sound of a band with all eyes on the past, reluctant to try anything new. At the risk of sounding overly cruel, these guys sound a hell of a lot like Bon Jovi. Even the song titles, “Simple Man,” “Holdin’ On” and the title track are pedestrian. There’s a lot of talent in this band, so why they grind out fetid hair metal is a question they really should ask themselves. –eric (Heat Slick/Smart)


JULIUS AIRWAVES, THE:
Dragons Are the New Pink: CD
Kid says: “Hey, Grandaddy! Bare-naked ladies!” Man says: “They might be giants.” –Cuss Baxter (Sickroom)


JUDO RODRIGUEZ:
Self-Titled: CD
Vaguely arty noise rock that is much better than that description would lead one to believe. Of course, seeing as I was piss-scared this was gonna be some emo crap, my judgment might be a bit clouded by gratitude, but what I’m hearing is pretty fuggin’ rockin’. These guys can play their instruments and it shows in all the right ways. –jimmy (Paranormal)


JELLO BIAFRA WITH THE MELVINS:
Never Breathe What You Can’t See: CD
Those of you who thought this was gonna blow can breathe a sigh of relief, ‘cause I gotta admit it’s pretty friggin’ good. Lyrically, Jello lays bare the dark, embarrassing recesses of the American empire, while the Melvins bash away in punk rock abandon, referencing both Jello and punk’s past while pumping enough modern riffage to keep the whole thing from stinking of mothballs and stale clove cigs, resulting in what can only be described as one of Herr Biafra’s best collaborative releases to date. Hell, I’d even place it above the latter DK stuff if I weren’t sure I’d be burned at the stake for heresy by the puritanical hardcore unwashed who wouldn’t know a creative idea if it came and sat in their laps. Sure, there’s just a hint of metal in that guitar crunch, but somehow it actually complements rather than detracts from the proceedings. If you haven’t been whining like a spoiled brat for the genero-thrash follow-up to Bedtime for Democracy, this will satisfy in all the right ways. –jimmy (Alternative Tentacles)


JEFF POTTER & THE RHYTHM AGENTS:
Rhythm Riot: CD
Jeff Potter takes his cue from Jerry Lee Lewis, pounding the ivories and singing in a voice that could either testify for the Lord or send hundreds of teenage souls to the deepest pits of hell. This is the devil’s rock at its most primitive and if Potter had been around fifty years ago he would probably be considered a threat to the social order on par with The Killer. The album’s title track, interestingly enough, is this work’s biggest departure. Gone are the hammered piano keys, replaced by—get this—a drum solo. –eric (Raucous)


JABBERS, THE:
American Standard: CD
Wow, I wasn’t expecting much from the band I’ll venture to guess is the same band that once backed GG Allin, but this was pretty good. It’s interesting to note that at least two members of the Queers (Wimpy and Joe both contribute vocals) are on this, ‘cause there’s a definite “I’m Useless”-era feel to many of the tunes here, which fit in nicely with the post-Iggy scum punk vibe of the remaining tracks. Also contributing vocals to a couple of tunes are Jeff Clayton and Jeff Dahl. Surprisingly good. –jimmy (Steel Cage)


J CHURCH:
Society Is a Carnivorous Flower: CD
Okay. You have to support someone who has put out more records than I’ve eaten bowls of Lucky Charms. It’s just a matter of principle! But, it does make it a little hard to get excited about a new J Church release, even if this one does feature resident Razorcake cartoonist and bass player Ben Snakepit. The same melodic pop punk you’ve come to expect, with some more rockin’ production this time around, and a sad tune by Mr. Snakepit. If this were a cereal, it’d be Total. In a pinch, you can always eat it, and it’s been around forever. Ah, the limits of metaphor! –Maddy (No Idea)


HOT SNAKES:
Audit in Progress: LP
There are bands that you just trust, where even if a song seems to come out of left field, you give them the benefit of the doubt and keep listening. For me, Hot Snakes are one of those bands. They have a very wormy quality about them; their songs have a way of burrowing deep into your brain to the point where it becomes a specific craving, like “I want to listen to this particular band,” instead of “I want to listen to punk rock.” Comparisons are hard to make. Essentially, it’s straight-ahead rock and roll with thick, jarring percussion and a moody, explosive skew to it, but it’s so much more than that. There are very distinct, almost ethereal guitar lines wrapping themselves around every song, a bit like the Wipers. It’s experimental, but it’s airtight rather than self-indulgent, more like No Means No than Sonic Youth. Much like the last Fugazi album, the familiarity between the musicians leads to much broader musical landscapes instead of predictability. In the end, though, they don’t sound like anybody but Hot Snakes. Lyrically, they’re unparalleled; Rick’s ability to make the abstract seem very personal amazes me more and more with each listen. They’re fucking unreal live, too. Everything about this record is unbelievable. –Josh (Swami)


HEY MIKE!:
Embrace Your Hooks: CD
Harmonious SoCal power pop punk of the most flavorful variety. I’ll admit to my guilty pleasure from bands like Hey Mike! I found this to be a great release. The production was top-notch and these five songs ended much too quickly. If this is any hint at their future, these guys are off to a nice start. JasonK –Guest Contributor (Takeover)


HER CANDANE:
Could Be Nothing to Some: CD
Boo hoo. Hail Satan. Boo hoo. Where’s my Bathory lunchpail and official Pantera backpack? –jimmy (Sound vs. Silence)


HENCHMEN, THE:
Three Times Infinity: CD
The Henchmen have all the usual garage band accruements, but more often than not come off sounding like a slightly amped version of Camper Van Beethoven. Maybe it’s the smart ass lyrics or the lead singer’s delivery. To their credit, they don’t attempt to simply recreate that wonderful ‘60s garage sound. But their everything-but-the-kitchen-sink album, Three Times Infinity, sometimes suffers from a lack of focus. –eric (Norton)


HELGAS, THE:
'Til the Wheels Fall Off: CD
Attention! This sounds nothing like most Pelado bands. Not a garage punk thing at all! Instead, the Helgas sound like something you’d hear on the college radio in the mid-1980s, in between REM and the Pixies. Unfortunately, this is nowhere near as good as either of those bands. Pretty generic, slower rock. If it were a cereal, it’d be Crispix. A relic of the past! –Maddy (Pelado)


HEADWOUND:
Ginmill: CD
Decent enough punk rock with an ‘80s feel to the proceedings. –jimmy (Haunted Town)


HEADS AND BODIES:
Ground to Join the Dust: 5-song CDEP
If earnestness could automatically equate to a great record, Heads and Bodies would be way ahead of the game. It’s apparent that they’re going for something new and distinct. The CD starts off super promising. The first track, “The Will of Machines,” is loud, swerving, and bombastic, and reminds me of a jubilant mix between Discount and Jawbox, punctuated by dual male and female vocals. On “Margo’s Forehead Doesn’t Deserve Jack Shit,” it strikes me that I can’t place another punk song that I’ve ever heard a clarinet on. But somewhere near the middle of that song to the end of the CD, the band loses my interest more and more. Songs meander and mope around. Structure seems to just collapse. Songs blend into one another and lack cohesion. They’re too long. It’s no fun at all. And, unfortunately, by the end, I’m just bored. It’s sort of a chore to finish the EP. –todd (Heads and Bodies)


HEADACHE CITY:
Knee Jerk Reaction: 7"
Three concrete-solid, organ-heavy tunes that are blunt on impact (there’s no “trying to figure the song out” fineries), that effectively hold up to repeated listens, and includes an ex-Motard in its lineup. Although this three-songer has the checklist of “what is this new new wave doohickey?” marked off, these tracks seem much more genre-resilient and muscle flexing than most of the dandy poofs who are trotting out their keyboards and prancing around like helium-filled robots in striped shirts. Headache City’s got a bite and you can tap your toes along to them. What’s not to like? –todd (Shit Sandwich)


HALLOMASS:
Last Year's Heroes: CDEP
Sounds like a garage-quality demo, but things are clear and the energy level manages to shine through. There’s an obvious Misfits influence embedded in there somewhere, but it ain’t so overt that they end up sounding like countless others beating that long dead corpse. Not bad. –jimmy (www.hallomass.com)


GROPERS, THE:
Self-Titled: CD
The singer reminds me of DeDe Troit, so it would naturally follow that this strikes me as a more rockin’ UXA. Fairly solid SoCal-by-way-of-Seattle punk rock here. –jimmy (www.thegropers.com)


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