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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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NON FIKTION NOIS:
Contaminación Mundial: 7" EP
This manages to evoke both the late, great Crudos and memories of assorted bands I saw in East LA backyards in the 1980s, both of which are meant as the highest compliments I could possibly muster. Good ‘n’ pissed off hardcore, which is how it should be. Considering the outcome of the recent presidential election, I needed a booster shot of rebellious rambunctiousness, and these kids have happily provided it. Thanks. –jimmy (Southkore)


NOFX:
The Greatest Songs Ever Written (by Us): CD
I don’t think there’s another active punk band that people “in the know” consistently love to hate more than NOFX. They’re seen as little more than a punk gateway band for white suburban youth with backward baseball caps. While far from being as bad as Sum 41 or Good Charlotte, they’re rarely mentioned in the same breath with “true” or DIY punk. First hearing them in 1989, I thought they were barely okay funny metal. If you’d heard RKL’s Keep Laughing and the Meatmen’s, We’re the Meatman and You Suck!, and put them together in your mind, that was much better than NOFX. But, for me, it turned around with White Trash, Two Heebs, and a Bean and the induction of El Hefe into the band. Metal was shed in favor of more pop sensibilities. Punk in Drublic’s an incredibly catchy album, they modulate tempos, and they all became better musicians. Then something like an unexpected nuclear explosion happened. Somewhere around 1992/1993, ten fucking million bands wanted to sound exactly like NOFX. Bros worldwide—to no direct fault of NOFX—descended on the world in a plague of baggy pants and hoodies, with the incessant clinking of chain wallets, and treated us to about five constant years of lethal levels of awful, derivative, mind-numbing melodicore. I’ll admit that, although you can’t control how others are going to take inspiration from you, it was a bit much to take, and I quietly put my NOFX records back on the shelf, only listening to them on occasion. But they weathered the melodicore storm, weathered the ska storm, and are currently weathering the emo boo hoo-athon. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’ve made the long haul. And although I’ve never been one to live and die by them, I find myself plucking one of their CDs out of the stacks, popping it in the player, and enjoying it, time and time again. There’s something they’ve tapped into that I’m grateful for. They’re still snide and funny. They’re easy to listen to. They probably have had the most opportunities to really sell out and turn their backs on punk as a whole when they got more popular, but they keep playing, reinvesting in themselves and their friends, keep churning out new songs, and pissing the right people off. Here’s a collection of twenty-seven songs. One’s new. For some reason, even though I have all the songs on separate albums, I’ve been listening to this quite a bit. –todd (Epitaph)


NO SLOGAN:
National Threat: 7" EP
This has that early ‘80s Midwestern hardcore sound down pat, eschewing hyper-rhythms in favor of growling menace. Think The Fix with cleaner production values and you wouldn’t be too far off the mark. –jimmy (Southkore)


NINJA GUN:
Smooth Transition: CD
Wholly uninteresting alt-rock. Was hoping for something a little more interesting, thanks to titles like “Maybe You Should Explode” and “Losers Talking,” but this was about as exciting as a yawning competition. –jimmy (Barracuda Sound)


NINJA GUN:
Smooth Transition: CD
There is some simply awesome alt-country currently being recorded, probably best represented by Lucero, the Drive-By Truckers and a handful of other groups that seem to have a profound understanding that country is at its best when played in a drunken stupor or when it sounds like it was played in a drunken stupor. On the other hand, this album just fucking blows. Sure, there are some half-assed country riffs on here, but this is a rock record first (with liberal applications of generic pop punk influences) and a country album never. Imagine, if you will and if it doesn’t sound too revolting, the Riverdales playing country and you’ll have a somewhat decent idea of what this sounds like. –scott (Barracuda Sound)


NINE SHOCKS TERROR:
Self-Titled: CDEP
Please, please, please tell me that this four song EP is not the death knell for this Cleveland war machine! There are very few bands that play this kind of thousand-mile-an-hour punk with the intensity and chops of Nine Shocks Terror, and this just raises the bar that much higher. I’m not exaggerating here. It’s absolutely devastating, like a modern-day Articles of Faith. I’d say more, but I’m having a hard time picking my jaw up off the ground. This also comes with a DVD of them destroying audiences at a bunch of different shows. Buy everything this band ever recorded. –Josh (Mad at the World)


NEW MEXICAN DISASTER SQUAD/WESTERN ADDICTION:
Split: LP
New Mexican Disaster Squad: I’m real close to liking them, but it always slides back to them being just okay. This time out, they’ve scaled back the Strike Anywhere-isms and headed in a more early Explosion direction with super-clear vocals, swelling guitars, and popping drums. I still just don’t hear that extra spark that ignites their own fire, where their songs improve on repeated listens. Western Addiction: Feisty, upbeat, and forceful, they remind me of two bands simultaneously. Seven Seconds because no matter what the song’s about, it sounds positive as all hell. Dick Army because, well, they sound an incredible amount like the (unfortunately) obscure and (again, unfortunately) broken up New York band—from the warmly screamed vocals (think burlap, honey, and duct tape) to everything being so tightly wound with no gaps while remaining dirty, sweaty, and blood pumping. –todd (No Idea)


NEW BREED, THE:
Off the Beaten Path: CD
Canadian street punk from Halifax, Nova Scotia, The New Breed play capable, anthemic oi style punk rock with more emphasis on rock (pub style; think old school UK bands like Peter and The Test Tube Babies or The Business) than punk. At times, the singer recalls Paul Bearer of Sheer Terror/Joe Coffee fame (not a bad thing), there’s lots of Thunders-style riffage and plenty of working class lyricism to keep quench the thirst of the boot boy crowd and not sinking into meathead-ism to keep the rest of us interested. –greg (Thorp)


NECK:
Here's Mud in Yer Eye: CD
Front man Leeson used to be in the Popes, which we know is not the same as the Pogues. However, this album’s more reminiscent of the Pogues than anything, but without the polish. Add fiddle, banjo and whistle to drums, guitar, bass and vocals and run it at variable speeds—breakneck, dirge, pint-in-hand pub song. They’re traditional, they’re punk, they call it psycho-ceilidh. Their website says, “It’s a second generation identity crisis thing. You wouldn’t understand.” Well, I don’t for many reasons, but some of you might. –thiringer (Neck)


MUDDY RIVER NIGHTMARE BAND:
Who Will Be the Lucky Pierre?: CD
Still sloshing around in Portland, four big guys in vests (their words, not mine) tear through punk like they’ve been doing it for twenty years. Well, they have. And it shows. Like a drunken one-night stand, the album is fast, fun and sloppy—with a little morning remorse thrown in for good measure. –thiringer (Last Chance)


MUDDY RIVER NIGHTMARE BAND:
Who Will Be the Lucky Pierre?: CD/DVD
Rambunctious Portland greaserpunk that breaks no new ground (“Revenge of the Surf Zombies”? I’m just happy the cover isn’t a cartoon of a monster driving a tiny car with a giant shifter) and comes off like a meeting between Deadbolt and Zeke. What I don’t get is why, after recording a song called “I Love Lucky Lager”, they got themselves photographed in a bathtub full of PBR cans. –Cuss Baxter (Last Chance)


MR. CALIFORNIA AND THE STATE POLICE:
25 Ways to Annoy Your Neighbor: 7"
Sometimes you trade with people to see what you get in return without knowing what you are trading for. I like rolling the dice like that sometimes. So I get this record and notice that it has twenty-five songs on a 7”. Must be a power violence record with thirty-second songs. That was far from the truth once this came out of the speakers. From what I could dig up quickly, this is a one-man project, and a bizarre one at that, armed with a cheap keyboard (Casio?), a drum machine and possibly a guitar. This collection of instruments in turn creates a blend of industrial new wave mixed with blast beats of thrash and odd interludes. To picture my expression, imagine seeing a face with eyes of bewilderment and confusion with an odd tilt trying to balance out the thoughts. Electronic anarchy mixed with a warped sense of humor barely sums up what I am trying to describe what I hear. Fans of Plutocracy, Stikky, Spazz, or Le Scrawl would be the only people able to survive this insanity and enjoy it. –don (Armpit Toast)


MOTION PICTURE DEMISE:
Rebuild/Reform: CDEP
Enough of all this emo hardcore bullshit—I’m calling all of you fuckers out right now. It all boils down to this—contemporary emo hardcore (and by this I mean shit like Story of the Year, Atreyu, and so forth) is the contemporary equivalent of power ballads, pure and simple. I am telling each one of you pussies with dyed black hair and ear plugs who screams for catharsis’ sake that you are effectively recreating one of the single most commercial styles ever. Bear with me while I explain—heavy metal, fundamentally, was dude rock. That isn’t to say that women couldn’t play it or appreciate it on its own merits (to cite only one example just because she intimidates the hell out of me, The Great Kat’s fretwork blew damn near everyone away), merely that its primary audience was D&D-playing longhairs who wanted to discuss technical complexity (and if you doubt what I’m saying, walk into any comic book store and do a quick survey to see how many people there own an album by Iced Earth or Dream Theater). The dudes in bands recognized that it was, like, a total sausage party at the shows and, thus, the power ballad was born to expand the audience. It showed a softer, more sensitive side to the band, effectively stating, “Yeah, we party and shit, but we, like, have feelings too, y’know,” as banal observations such as “Every Rose Has Its Thorns” flooded the airwaves. So there’s your brief history of a musical dark age. You may be asking yourself what the fuck this has to do with emo hardcore and the answer is simple—power ballads and emo hardcore are nearly identical. In most cases, the vocalist switches from crooning to anguished screams, effectively illustrating exactly how much all this, like, hurts him, y’know? Meanwhile, the band pulls out the same rehashed chugga chugga riffs to bring the mosh for all the dudes. Pow, there it is. The dudes get to rock out because it’s, like, hardcore, y’know? They play guitars and shit and it’s, like, heavy. The girls also get to swoon because most of the guys in the bands (and it’s dude-dominated by an overwhelming percentage) have more ink than Marvel and DC and more plugs than a sex shop. So that’s that then—it’s all eye candy and style and people who don’t know any better listening to bands which seem to be saying something terribly emotional and important and affecting with lyrics about lies, angels, deception, denial, betrayal… honestly, don’t any of you fuckers ever have anything good that happens to you? Is it really all looking for a girl to confide in? Are you always whining because you placed your misguided trust in someone who turned around and hurt you terribly and now you just need a hug? I keep remembering what Nick Hornby wrote about the thousands and thousands of desperate, bitter pop songs describing only loss and fear and I can’t think of anything else which more accurately and pointedly describes this genre. I’ll put it bluntly—when you assholes realize that writing these overwrought songs about ex-girlfriends keeps you wallowing in your own filth and mires everyone listening in the same muck with you, when you stop this behavior, I may try to listen to whatever you come up with next if there’s a single original thought in it. Otherwise, fuck off. All of you. Seriously. –scott (Orange Peal)


MISERY/PATH OF DESTRUCTION:
Split: CD
Misery: Some metallic crust core from a band that’s been around since dirt was invented. Their tracks here seem slower than I remember their previous efforts being. Path of Destruction: Another band that’s been around the block a few times. They, too, are loud, crusty, and have lyrics that don’t mince words regarding how they feel about Bush and the “filthy rich.” Although the proceedings weren’t as intense as I was expecting ‘em to be, this wasn’t all that bad, either. –jimmy (Rodent Popsicle)


MILLION DOLLAR MARXISTS:
Give It a Name: CD
Remember a while back when Tesco Vee used to write public love letters to the New Bomb Turks and offer to trim their nose hairs and buff out their shoehorns and puppy love things like that? It was good to see a true Punk God so enthusiastically laud a band that, at least in the early years, was richly deserving of such lofty attention. Then that manic edge that made Destroy Oh-Boy! such a stellar album, began to soften and things like horns and pianos and harmonicas started popping up in the songs. I remain hopeful, as I’m sure Mr. Vee does, that the Turks will recapture that stripped down rawk vibe and once again deliver the goods. In the mean time, of course, all manner of NBT wannabe bands are hoping to one day have Tesco Vee loofa-ing their backs. Do they stand a chance, you ask? Hard to say. While they’ve got some of the sass of the early Turks, they’ve also got some Scandinavian-style guitar wankery and maybe a few too many sideburns going on—for Tesco, anyway. But I’m not as picky. I’d say it’s catchy and rocks well and is, all in all, a pretty solid effort. –aphid (Gearhead)


METHADONES, THE:
Not Economically Viable: CD
Reminds me of Eddie and the Cruisers for some reason, and that may be bad to you but for me it rules. It’s some good ol’ fashioned pop punk and, go figure, that’s probably because Dan Vapid (Screeching Weasel, Riverdales) and Mike Byrne (Vindictives) played on this release. Some pop from the guys who know how to do it right. So why does it remind me of Eddie and the Cruisers? I don’t know. Probably because that’s really the only thing that came to mind, dick. Gabe Rock –Guest Contributor (Thick)


ME INFECTO:
Killing Ourselves Slowly: CDEP
Bass and drums duo that forgoes the pure rock energy of Big Business and the spastic franticism of Lightning Bolt in favor of alternating umbrella—and sledgehammer—beatings. At night. Behind a dumpster full of potatoes and dirty mop heads. In a puddle of broken glass. –Cuss Baxter (Me Infecto)


ME FIRST AND THE GIMME GIMMES:
Ruin Jonny’s Bar Mitzvah: CD
To actually play at someone’s Bar Mitzvah and to record it is brilliant. The video portion of this proves that they actually performed this stunt. It’s always funny to see sheltered, generic people get easily shocked. The facial expressions are priceless. Well, the gang busts out some major tunes here. A cover of Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven.” If you are a covers geek like me, check out the Dread Zeppelin version. They play Blondie’s “Heart of Glass” with a male perspective. Helen Reddy, Styx, Beatles, Billy Joel, Willie Nelson, and REO Speedwagon all get the special treatment from the boys. Scary thing is, minus the Beatles, I remember these songs when they were originally performed by the artists and were new. Merging is the new craft that the band has been incorporating lately. Who would think that the intro to the Adolescents’ “Kids of the Black Hole” would work so well with the Carpenters’ “Superstar?” “Hava Nagila” and the Offspring’s “Come Out and Play”? That’s like bowling a strike with the heaviest loaner ball at the alley and accidentally farting from the sheer weight of it. A surprise you didn’t expect. Fun as always, you can never go wrong when this band unleashes their humor. Now where can I get one of those cool guitars they had made? –don (Fat)


ME FIRST AND THE GIMME GIMMES:
Ruin Jonny’s Bar Mitzvah: CD
The problem with most parody bands usually boils down to two crucial factors, namely a) they aren’t funny and b) they can’t play worth a piss. This has failed to be a problem with MFGGs, who, over the course of at least a billion LPs and singles now have managed to take some of the worst songs ever written and not only make them fun, but also make them sound good. No small feat, when we’re talking about musical abominations like “Seasons in the Sun,” “Delta Dawn,” and “I Believe I Can Fly.” On their latest, recorded live at a bar mitzvah (with accompanying video to prove it—just stick the CD into your computer and marvel at the slamdancing grannies), the boys in powder blue tuxedoes ravage such musical monstrosities as “Stairway to Heaven,” “Take It on the Run,” “You Were Always on My Mind,” and many others before a crowd of horrified dozens. Best of all here are—count ‘em—TWO versions of “Hava Nagila,” the second of which is a special “Christmas Arrangement” that is guaranteed to have you singing along while you’re rolling on the floor. This couldn’t come more highly recommended. –jimmy (Fat)


MDC:
Magnus Dominus Corpus: CD
Leave it to Dave Dictor and MDC to come out of the blue with a new album and not mince words. In addition to a couple of requisite anti-cop tunes (including a reworking of “No More Cops”), the boys dole out stinging slaps to Bush, “poseur punks,” dead nazi-skin heroes (a reworking of “Nazis Shouldn’t Drive”), Epitaph/NOFX/Rancid and other “rich punks,” and many others. While they don’t work things up to the pummeling froth of their first three or four EPs and first full-length, they still sound as gloriously radio unfriendly as ever. Nice to hear these guys serve up a healthy dose of “fuck you” to the system once again. –jimmy (Sudden Death)


MARKED MEN, THE:
On the Outside: CD
How good is this album? I bought two copies: one for the car, one for home. –mike (Dirtnap)


MAD CADDIES, THE:
Live from Toronto: Songs in the Key of Eh: CD
I was expecting some brilliant stuff from this record the way their fans always talked them up. The music is played well; the vocals are clear and all that. “Contraband” and “Drinking For 11” are pretty cool songs. But the rest of the CD was just irritating. I guess the problem with having horn players in the band is that you have to have horns on every fucking song. At some point I thought I was listening to a 1930’s vaudeville recording and Louie Armstrong and Mae West were going to be sampled in. I would think that being on NOFX’s label would clue this band into using horns with restraint (Hi, El Hefe!), but I guess they are taking their clues from 311 instead. Cute pictures of circus animals, though. –koepenick (Fat)


LYTHION:
From the Beginning: CD
Gloom pop that skates along the thin edge between wimpy goth fodder and wimpy Lilith Fair fodder. –jimmy (www.lythionmusic.com)


LUCKY PUNCH:
Kick Up a Hullabaloo: CD
At low volume, one song has an irritating high-pitched beep that made me twitch, an epileptic reaction to strobes. A whiskey-induced tantrum triggered by the beep brought instant death to this CD, which is too bad—I was starting to enjoy it. Track two, “…Just Keep on Goin’,” is the best one on the album, beginning with a tight and rumbling bass line and breaking into a tight chorus, which I find quite arousing. Because the CD isn’t available for further audio inspection, my last known impression: Supersuckers metal (quantity and quality) and Suicidal Tendencies timing and swagger. It’s a shame I can’t do a little more justice for these longhairs—but that beep... –thiringer (Dead Beat)


LOST SOUNDS:
Self-Titled: CD
Although I took a liking to the Lost Sounds almost immediately, and admired a lot of their music, I’ve recently reached this conclusion: they’re a great band. This CD and seeing them live the last time they came through LA just seals it. They’re too expansive to be pegged as solely new wave or garage. No mere passing dalliance, their keyboards go from accenting the guitars and modulating the mood, to becoming electronic pythons that slither and snake through the foreground, to being used as percussion instruments. They’re too inventive to be a kitsch act, although they do have certain “darker side of science” sensibilities (this outing includes songs of clones not being able to love and mechanical feelings). This album sounds like a watershed of many of the ideas they’ve been exploring in previous releases, and the result seems more focused, more hypnotic, more paranoid, more direct, and more immediately palatable. Like the end result of a long line of experiments, where the monster’s finally fully put together from all the separate parts and the right type of storm comes along and zaps in all the electricity you need. Instead of frying everything in a fire, this beast of an album sits up abruptly, picks up an instrument, and starts dismantling the lab in fantastic ways you’ve been hoping for. Just when I thought the band was reaching a plateau, the Lost Sounds don’t rehash old ground but launch into outer space. –todd (In the Red)


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