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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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BUTTERSPRITES:
Self-Titled: CD
Look, you people, this is important: POP is BOLD. Pop is bold. Pop is not all mumbly and wobbly and echoey and sitting around sounding like it’s humming some off-key tune while its got its head immersed in a bucket of Fresca™, POP is BOLD like the baritone sax coming in and going “WHUH WHUH WHA-WHA-WHA-WHA-WHA” at the end of “Thank the Lord for the Night Time” by Neil Diamond. It’s BOLD like the strings on a Troggs ballad. It’s bold like the frickin’ brass section in “I Know a Place” by Petula Clark! It’s NOT like some half-assed cross between the Flying Lizards and Shonen Knife and Guided By Voices aspiring to (and failing to achieve) “Hong Kong Garden” by Siouxsie & The Banshees as some sort of Pop Grail. IT IS NOT THAT. This record is no darn good! I do not know why anyone would listen to or put out this record. To heck with all parties involved! BEST SONG: Their recasting of PiL’s “Public Image” as “Yellow Peril,” which states “now is the time to try the new flavor.” New flavor? Honey, i oughtta get frequent flyer miles!!! BEST SONG TITLE: “Kimono Kitty” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: This record came with a piece of candy that, i assume, is called a “buttersprite.” It was like a piece of butterscotch hard candy with strawberry filling. It was very good. If you can figure out some way to get the piece of candy without actually getting the record in the process, i say do it. –norb (Dionysus)


BURIAL:
Never Give Up...Never Give In: CD
First off, if a record comes out on Deranged Records, I’ll give it a chance without knowing anything about the band prior to listening to it (this CD is a perfect example of that). Deranged’s honcho Gord has consistently great taste and isn’t genre-locked beyond liking a broad swath of excellent punk rock. Burial’s from Germany, sing in English, sound like they’re a third from Sweden (from the d-beats and the cymbals assassination) a third from Japan (oh-so-tight, Gauze-like songs that squeeze all the air out of a room) and a third from America (the wide and gloomy atmospheres of Tragedy). Instead of a studied, laborious mix of three different approaches to playing, it’s all melded together with some new sort of crazy glue and flies around seamlessly. It’s also as immediate and threatening as being thrown out of a fast-moving car with handcuffs. Really good stuff. –todd (Deranged)


BLACK TIME:
I Spit on Your Lifestyle: 7"
Dirty, messy, inspired fukking rokk. Great, great stuff. This is what mixed-up hot girls play on the pirate radio station when they’re all pissed off at boys. –mike (Shake Your Ass)


BLACK TIME:
Beat of the Traps: 7"
Black Time steamrolls through sound, so whatever may be lost in the recording is overachieved in effort with the “rocket rumble of my stereo speakers” and “crackling static” as the sleeve says. But more moody than, say, the noise insanity of the Reatards, then add the humpty bumpty of The Cramps. Two and a half songs of punk rock’n’roll that make me say, “Yes.” –mike (Yakisakana)


BLACK SUNDAY:
Tronic Blanc: CD
The most difficult thing in dealing with Alicja Trout is trying to keep up with all of her musical projects, but it’s immensely fruitful. Black Sunday (basically a one-woman project recorded over a two-year span) heavily takes elements from two other bands she is/was involved in: the Lost Sounds and Mouserocket. There’s choreographed electronic symphonies, songs that sound like ‘50s standards set to new wave, sweet indie rock moments that launch into Servotron-y lo-fi blasts, and far beyond. Due to the fact that I’ve been able to track down a decent amount of what Alicja’s done (Fitts, River City Tanlines, Clears)—and pretty much like it all—she’s fallen into the rare category of a musical artist I’m willing to follow down paths I wouldn’t necessarily consider. With a little patience and repeat listens, her music has cracked some tough musical chestnuts. Tronic Blanc is no exception. Usually, folks dealing with such a broad musical palette kind of lose me, leaving me wishing that they’d stick to the one or two things they do well. Alicja Trout seems unstoppable and I hope she keeps on going in so many directions at once. She’s prolific, multi-talented, and indefatigable. Great stuff. –todd (Dirtnap)


BLACK ICE:
Terrible Birds: CD
While many of the modern goth scene’s heroes either wallow in watered-down pretentious noodling for the sake of “art,” embrace electronica’s lamest elements and/or shovel out dreck that is nothing more than bad metal with some Sister Eldritch clone mumbling along, goth’s leaner, meaner American cousin, death rock, seems to be enjoying a bit of a much needed revival thanks to the efforts of bands like the Phantom Limbs and this, one of that band’s side projects that has become a full-fledged band in its own right. Elements recalling both genres’ glory days—the gloom of early Christian Death, the dark neo-tribalism of Savage Republic and the Birthday Party, the aversion to full-on Barre chords that was once the hallmark of 4AD bands like Cocteau Twins and Xmal Deutschland, the punk rock punch of bands like Mood of Defiance or Superheroines, and vocals that borrow liberally from the Siouxsie Sioux School of Singin’—are married to the intensity in delivery that makes Phantom Limbs such hot shit, resulting in what is easily one of the best albums thus far this year. It’s really nice to hear someone revisit this style that obviously understands that the music is supposed to rock, and here’s to hoping they continue to raise a racket for some time to come. –jimmy (Hungry Eye)


BLACK FURIES:
Meanwhile, Back in the States: CD
Black Furies wound up parking their car somewhere between Lazy Cowgirls Avenue and Hellacopters Way. Problem is, their ride’s a Honda Accord. I mean, it’ll get you there but it’s not exactly decked out, you know? There’s just a little something missing here. Granted, these guys absolutely know what they’re doing; this stuff is proficient and catchy beer-and-stilettos garage punk interspersed with the odd dancehall number, and an instrumental or two that verges on spaghetti western shit. At their best, they’re channeling early Supersuckers records, which ain’t a bad road to head down at all. But when this thing clocks in at eight songs long, with two or three of those songs markedly diverging from what they’re so obviously good at, Meanwhile... is lacking that consistent and wonderfully damaging sort of swagger and snarl that they’re gonna need to really stand up above the plethora of bands playing the same type of stuff. –keith (Take Root)


BIG VINNY AND THE CATTLE THIEVES:
I Was a Teenage Premature Ejaculator: 7" EP
If GG Allin never wrote a romantic ballad to his dick (and I’m not sure if he didn’t) and how his too-tender mushroom cap failed him, Big Vinny’s written it for him, years after GG’s demise, and the world’s a better place. It’s the title track. Actually, the two originals on this 7” remind me of GG’s country work: laid-back in its own filth, heavy-drinking, self-depreciating, torn-throat, and better than it should be. The third song’s a GG cover, “Sister Sodomy,” so they weren’t working in a vacuum. Not essential, but oddly enjoyable. –todd (May Cause Dizziness)


BENDER:
Self-Titled: CD
Dunno about you, but when I see accordion, piano, banjo, and harmonica listed as instruments used on a recording, I expect something more or less uptempo and rootsy to come from the speakers. These guys (to be as completely obscure as possible in a shameless attempt to garner some “underground reviewer dude” cred for myself so I can use phrases like “reinvented” without fear of being beaten to a pulp by heavies doin’ dirt for the Underground Reviewer Dudes Union Local 215) sound like EXP reinvented as a pop band, or (less cryptic) the zombies from Dawn of the Dead decided to do a little rockin’ instead of people-eatin’. All gloom, depression and woe here, which, while interesting, decidedly does not go with the sunny summer weather and disposition I currently find myself stuck in. –jimmy (Satellite)


BANDITAS:
Self-Titled: CD
I met all three members of this trio prior to hearing their album. The drummer is also a poet. He and I did a reading together. He’s a pretty good poet (and I don’t often say that about poets). One of the guitarists is a writer, too. She does a zine about being a menstrual anarchist. She taught me how to say “eat my pussy” in French. The other guitarist hit me up to buy him a beer. With a trio of personalities like that, what could you possibly expect from the album? I wasn’t sure. I just wasn’t expecting it to be this good. The first thing you’ll notice when the Banditas start playing is that your head will start bobbing. You can try to fight this, but you won’t be able to stop. The second thing you’ll notice is a sonic fuzz wrapped around melodies. It’s been done before. Hüsker Dü and early Mudhoney did it well, but it would be a mistake to compare the Banditas to either one of those bands. In fact, it’s hard to find any safe comparisons for the Banditas. I guess there’s a bit of Rocket From The Crypt without the horns in there, like the Banditas and RFTC are part of the same species, but not the same genus. When you stop comparing them to bands, the next step is to just get swept away in the songs. There’s a nice balance of power and rhythm, and this trio puts more into the songs than you’d expect from only three people. And maybe, after about twenty or thirty listens, you might notice that there doesn’t seem to be any bass in here—no bass guitar, no bass drum. Not that it’s missing. It’s just not there. And, finally, this album will creep into your top five. At least, it’s one of my top five favorite albums right now. You may also be interested to know that this album is available on vinyl, too. And they sent me a CD. Fuckers. –sean (Last Drag)


BAMN/ BLACK STAR RISING:
Split: 12"
Bamn reminds me a lot of Wilmington’s Armistice—super crusty! Black Star Rising is super fast Swedish street punk. This is one of the best new splits out right now, and from the DIY looks of it all, it’s probably not too far off from being permanently out-of-print forever. So you better go pick yourself up a copy right away! –mrz (S&M)


BAD VIBES, THE:
All the Right Ways to Do You Wrong: CD
“Someone’s got it in for you and that motherfucker is me!” Some killer Nihilistics/Poison Idea-influenced punk here. This Hostile City outfit spits out pure, unfiltered rage in its two-minute rippers. This is highly recommended for fans of Boston’s deeply missed A Team, Last In Line, and, hell, the entire Kangaroo Records catalog. Great hardcore punk by folks who may have actually been around to see some of those great early ‘80s bands. There is some “living paycheck to paycheck” anger here that some snotty suburban kids can’t even fathom. The vinyl purist snobs will miss out on this due to its non-hardcore label and CD-only status, but fans of pissed-off, burly hardcore without any stupid fuckin’ breakdowns will love this. A label like Manic Ride, Deranged, or Kangaroo would be well served to make this available on vinyl. This is fucking great! –frame (Steel Cage)


AT THE SPINE:
First Day of Spring: CD
This was specifically sent to me with a note stating that they really appreciated my sincerity. So, I was truly hoping to honesty love this and reward them with a glowing review. I read the liner notes as I put this in and got a bit jaded. They cover Hank Williams and admit they’ve never even heard his version of the song, “House of Gold,” that they cover. Minus one. Then, they go on to proclaim (minus one) that they’re not religious, and if they were they wouldn’t be Christian… and proceed to sing a religious song (hypocrisy—minus twelve). If you seriously feel so strongly anti-religion, anti-church, or anti-whatever that you feel the need to come out and defend your views, then why not just choose another song? Or, if you just like the song’s melody or other element, but don’t agree with the lyrics or sentiment, you have some choices. Personally, I sing the hell out of songs that I like which have lyrics that I don’t necessarily agree with or that have sentiments I don’t agree with. Do I feel the need to validate my liking of the songs? Nope. Maybe I’d take it all with a grain of salt if the music were any good, but this is about as awful as it comes: mellow and uninteresting arty adult contemporary with wimpy, echo-y vocals. How’s that for sincerity? –megan (Global Seepej)


ASSHOLEPARADE:
Say Goodbye: CD
Ah, good ol’ Assholeparade. I tell ya, back in the day (as in three years ago), this band was the soundtrack to many, many bike rides to and from work. It was just such a perfect segue between Void and Born Against, you know? I’ve never really understood why they, along with Trepan Nation and Man Afraid, didn’t have the lasting popularity of some of their peers, like Spazz and Charles Bronson. But we’re not here to speculate; we’re here, of course, to talk about this new Assholeparade record. If you like any of the bands I mentioned, or if you like thrash in general, you’ll definitely like this, but if you think you’re allergic to blastbeats, this isn’t going to convince you otherwise. These are songs that didn’t make it onto the Student Ghetto Violence CD (Which you should get. Seriously.), including a fucking amazing cover of the Circle Jerks’ “Red Tape” (the liner notes also include the best advice you’ll ever get: “Please buy the Group Sex LP for all of our sakes.”). If you’re keeping score at home, here’s the stats: fourteen songs, twelve minutes, and one grumpy, overweight snowboarder on vocals. –Josh (No Idea)


ANXIETIES, THE:
Black Hole (In the Center of my Brain): 7"
Fast punk rock that reminds me of a healthy mix of early Angry Samoans music and a less witty Rev. Nørb’s “(Do You Wanna) Grilled Cheese?” Boris the Sprinkler vocals. Eugene, Oregon would be the last place I would expect this sound to be pushing out from, but here it is. Other than a seven-song demo, this is their only release. This is a solid start. Tight and catchy. Now I only hope they can make it out of their crappy little college town so others can witness their rock. –Guest Contributor (Infringement)


ANGEL SLUTS, THE:
Hot Teen Action: 7"
I got to admit, the concept of bands with dopey names like “The Angel Sluts” and dopier record titles like Hot Teen Action and even-dopier-than-that record covers depicting (presumably) their (female) fishnet-clad background-vocalist-slash-tambourine-players from the waist down is not what i would consider to be a fresh one. But, that said, the record itself is pretty cool, and, ultimately, that’s what matters, so, like, who gives a fuck if the bass player’s name is “Tommy Torture” and the inner sleeve portrays a fat dude from the neck down with “THE ANGEL SLUTS” written across his gut which isn’t all that impressive when you remember that there was that Poison Idea record cover where the fat dude pictured from the neck down had actually carved the phrase “KINGS OF PUNK” into his gut with a fuckin’ RAZORBLADE??? This doesn’t sound like the Reatards outright, but it sounds enough like the Reatards (dirty guitars, trashy sound, Radio Shack™ microphone vocals) that anyone who picks up records from Memphis bands in the hopes that they sound like the Reatards won’t be disappointed, i’m guessing. Actually, it sort of sounds like a cross between the Reatards and all those guitar bands that defined the Sympathy for the Record Industry sound about fifteen years ago. Oh, what the hell, we all love the first Saints album here, let’s drink. BEST SONG: “5 and Dime” BEST SONG TITLE: I’ll say “5 and Dime” again, because new Razorcake regulations indicate that i am required to spell that phrase “FIVE and Dime” and i like to stick it to The Man. FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Record contains an insert depicting a silhouetted pole dancer coupled with the phrase “I SUPPORT SINGLE MOMS,” which, as someone that deals with strippers/ escorts/you-name-its on a daily basis at work, amuses me to no end—so i’m taping it to the top of my computer monitor until my boss tells me i have to take it down. –norb (Wrecked ‘Em)


ALTAIRA/ BLOTTO:
Drunks Not Dead: Split 7"
It makes some sort of morbid sense that the most-realized, stratospheric, and emotionally convincing songs Altaira make are on their swan song. These dudes in San Diego have flirted with bushy-beard era Hot Water Music and post Hairbrained Scheme Addicts Tiltwheel for some time—that hairy-voiced, drunk desperation slipping into elation, mixed about with goodguy musical fisticuffs. They finally got a locker with a combination all their own and their corsage to the big dance, then kaput. Two of my favorite songs by the band. Blotto: Japan needs to invade America again. Bomb the shit out of the airwaves. Make babies who play flawless guitars and say things like “And I want to shoot my head which is poor.” I’m not fibbing when I say they’re standing on the dynamite barrel of Dillinger Four while pulling down the Clash’s socks and making a racket that Crimpshrine would be proud of. Oh, yes. Fucking outstanding split. –todd (Snuffy Smile)


ADOLESCENTS:
OC Confidential: CD
Conservatively guessing, I’ve listened to this bad boy at least thirty-five times in the last three or four days, so at this point I’m pretty well acquainted with the music contained herein. I’ve also been an unabashed fan since I heard their legendary “blue” album not too long after it was released, so I’m also well acquainted with their history and what they’re capable of when they set their minds to bringing the rock. That said, I can say with all conviction that they do, indeed, rock as only they can. Is it the same as the “blue” album, you ask? Well, no it isn’t, you ninny, but it also isn’t 1981, is it? You want rehash, pop that oldie into your player, bury your head in the sand, and pretend we’re still living in Reagan Country, kiddo. What it DOES sound like is TSOL’s more recent efforts, an extension of that original into new and interesting places. The dual octave guitar stuff that sounded so fuggin’ cool back then and ended up being one of the trademarks of the “OC punk” sound is still all over the place here, but it’s used in different, often subtle ways. The tempos are slower for the most part, but the intensity, the conviction, the thing that made them “hardcore” is still there, right up front, and so is the pop to temper the rage and give everything that musical “sheen.” The lyrics, the one place they could’ve totally fudged and gotten away with it, remain substantive (at least from what I’m able to make out) and Tony serves them up as only he knows how. They’ve even added a few new influences to the pot to give the stew a more interesting flavor (is that a dash o’ ska I’m hearing there?). Most importantly, though, this feels REAL, which is more than one can say about so many of the older bands who’ve decided to give the punk rock cash cow another milking—no resting on their laurels or riding on their name here; these guys have obviously put in the necessary work. You can bet that, as a fan, there are places I would’ve loved to see them go—a couple of no-frills thrashers here and there would’ve been nice—but I’ll gladly ignore roads less traveled if they keep coming up with songs just as amazing as “California Son,” which to me sounds just as crucial as anything else they’ve come up with to date. In short, yeah, I’m stoked as hell to have another crucial album from these guys, one that gets better each time I listen to it. Let’s just hope they’re planning to stick around awhile to keep building on what is already a solid foundation. Now if you’ll excuse, I gotta go and hit “replay” and spin this puppy again. –jimmy (Finger)


ZOOMEN:
Self-Titled: 10"
Sounds like whatever country they’re from’s attempt at the Hives, but with a properly punk attitude of general irreverence (if you’re brave, check out the sleeveless, horizontally-striped, too-short Mickey Mouse t-shirt one of the band members is sporting over his hilariously conspicuous midriff. Now THAT’S comic genius!). Sometimes i pretend they sound like the Damned or Radio Birdman. This record occasionally strikes me as being really fuckin’ good, but, at other times, i can’t help but thinking that, a hundred years from now, when the aliens come down to planet Earth and start sifting thru heaps of our popular culture from the first decade of the 21st Century, they’re gonna spend all of ten seconds going over the punk records, and head straight for the copies of Katamari Damacy. Oh well. Best 10” since the Teenage Knockouts!!! BEST SONG: “Sorry” BEST SONG TITLE: “Piggy Wiggy Dance” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: The second time i saw Peter Noone, he kept getting massive laughs by referring to (event sponsor) Piggly Wiggly™ grocery stores as “the Piggy Wiggy!” Oh, that Peter! –norb (Relax-O-Matic Vibrator)


YOUNG PEOPLE WITH FACES:
Self-Titled: CD
Paraphrasing Bruce Lincoln, the Jalé tribe have a proverb that maintains that “people whose faces are known shouldn’t be eaten.” So, since this quartet of seventeen-year-olds from Ketchum, Idaho put their mugs on the cover, I can’t kill ‘em and roast ‘em. Rats. At times that seems like a really good idea here. Musically, this appears to be an intentional throwback to the styles and sensibilities of the early ‘80s, and there are some moments that are impressive coming from such young whippersnappers. “Fuck Art, Let’s Rock” presents the zenith of the record—a fun tune and one of the only one not to use lyrical themes that were worn out by 1986. But that’s the third track, and the record careens quickly to its nadir four songs later with yet another punk song called “I Hate You.” Groan. These kids could be really good; they show some real signs of creativity and quality, but it seems they need a bit of time to mature and find their own voices. Right now, this record is too much about their trying to show us how cool they are not just for knowing of, but for liking, bands like the Damned and the Heartbreakers. So I say to them: I get it. Yes, you can come play in the sandbox, but stop trying to impress people with how much you know and love the sand. –The Lord Kveldulfr (Young People with Faces, no contact)


WEEKENDERS:
Any Place Else b/w Sidewalks & You’re So: 7"
Uh... Rule #1 for Pop Success: A seven-inch record is meant to be spun at 45 rpm. ONLY. Rule #2 (“Be Cute Chicks”) has been fully complied with, however. Anyway, this NYC all-girl threesome appears to be going more in the direction of straighter girl-pop bands like the Excessories and/or a less punked-up Eyeliners than the whole trash ‘n’ treacle route of Nikki & The Corvettes and/or Tina & The Total Babes, but, from what i can tell, their current aptitude and skill sets are such that, at present, they would probably be more successful singing songs about Pop Rocks™ and Jolly Ranchers® than they would on their present course. This, of course, is subject to change, and the fact that the record’s most intriguing track is the Exploding Hearts-ish “Sidewalks” means that people like me should just sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up and let ‘em rock. So shall i do. BEST SONG: “Sidewalks” BEST SONG TITLE: “You’re So” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: I got #163 of 500. 163 is a prime number, you know. Also, i met Mitro. –norb (Baby Killer, www.theweekenders.net)


WATCH IT BURN/ALTAIRA:
Split: 7"
Watch It Burn are from Portland, and they play that fancy kinda post-emo punk stuff like the Hot Snakes, but with an almost-too-sappy twist a la some of the cheesier No Idea bands. Throw in a little late ‘90s Dischord and you get a pretty good idea of what Watch it Burn are going for. Nothing too crazy or original, but not bad either. Altaira sure do have a lot of records out for a band that broke up. They deliver two songs of Hot Water Music/ Avail type Florida punk rock. Some people might even call it emo, but they’re better than that. Just because you write inspiring, uplifting sounding melodies with gruffy vocals singing about life and heartache, that doesn’t make it emo. Or does it? Oh, and p.s., the last song on the Altaira side is mastered way too quiet! –ben (Accident Prone)


VOLTAGE:
Building the Bass Castle, Vol. 1: CD
Somewhere in America, a college student majoring in music with horn-rimmed glasses, a love for pretentious instrumental alt-rock, and a Jimmy Eat World Fan Club membership card just put this on and got a chubby the size of Courtney Love’s ego. –jimmy (Flameshovel)


VIVA K:
Self-Titled: CD
The musical magic carpet ride that is Viva K have been enchanting L.A. for the past three years with their brand of Middle Eastern-flavored new wave. Swirling synths and echoed guitars thunder beneath Ween’s I’ve-put-you-under-my-spell vocals. The mind-expanding groove will rock your body. –kat (Stinky, www.stinkyrecords.com)


VERONICA LIPGLOSS & THE EVIL EYES:
The Witch’s Dagger: CD
I know fuckall about these guys, but what I’m hearing here is death rock-tinged stuff that appears influenced by equal parts of the Birthday Party, east coast no wave, and west coast art punk. There’s even a decent Johanna Went cover here, which earns them major coolness points. Good and noisy, like it should be. –jimmy (GSL)


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