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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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HIBACHI STRANGLERS, THE:
Our City Doesn’t Stink All the Time: 7”
Yeah, yeah, give the record titled Our City Doesn’t Stink All The Time to the guy from New Jersey. Don’t think I don’t see the joke here. Anyway, loud, fuzzed-out psyche/ garage rock. I want to say reminds me a little of The Carbonas (or at least makes them come to mind for some reason), but not nearly as straight forward, and a lot noisier most of the time. I like this. Good stuff. –joe (Self-released)


HEROES & VILLIANS:
Play Themes from the Dark Pink Circus: CD
I think they shortened their name from The Heroes and Villains Chain. –Cuss Baxter (X!)


HERO DISHONEST:
When the Shit Hits the Man: CD
Totally raging fast hardcore punk from this Finnish band. Any fan of Dead Nation, Tear It Up, Deadstop, or D.S.-13 is going to want to be all over this. Actually, the more I listen to this, it really reminds me of that great second Paint It Black record. Doesn’t get much better than this for hardcore. –frame (Acme)


HEAD:
No Hugging! No Learning!: LP
Pretty much any Ramoneage Cloneage bands from the last fifteen years or so owe a debt of some sort to one of two parties: Head, from Seattle, to whom “I Don’t Wanna Be Learned/ I Don’t Wanna Be Tamed” was just about right, “Now I Wanna Sniff Some Glue” was evolved and brilliant, and “Loudmouth” was just too friggin’ fancy—and the Richies, from Germany. And, as big a fan as i was of the early singles like “Magic 8-Ball” and the early 12” “Street Level Assault,” i thought their first true full-length, “The Monkeys,” fell flat, largely owing to the band’s inability to charm in songs with more than, say, four lines of lyrics. And, while it’s good to hear the band again in any way/ shape/ form, i think that’s still somewhat the case—Head seem to be angling for position as sort of a retarded version of M.O.T.O. (“I’m 35 Years Older Than You”); a task which i remain unconvinced they are able to successfully undertake. Includes a neat and unexpected cover of the Turtles’ “Outside Chance.” BEST SONG: I dunno, i suppose “Outside Chance” BEST SONG TITLE: “Girl-Girl Action” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Comes with a large poster of the band. Unfortunately, the band ain’t exactly much to look at these days… –norb (Evil Clown)


HAUNTED GEORGE:
Bone Hauler: CD
The more I listen to Haunted George, the alter ego of S. George Pallow from the defunct Necessary Evils, the more inclined I am to call the man a genius. He takes the one man band format to bizarre, uncharted territory that the great Hasil Adkins would have been proud to tread. The songs on Bone Hauler hang heavily in the air like apparitions: lost souls searching for a desert resting place. Pallow’s voice, limbs, and instruments work together to create a harrowing, hypnotic mental landscape of isolation and desolation. “Depraved,” with the line “I’m not depraved. What’s that mean, anyway? They’ll learn the truth about me…someday,” will simultaneously make you laugh out loud and your hair stand on end. Other standouts are “Graves in the Desert,” “Howlin’,” and “What Kinda Tracks Are Those?” Highly recommended. –benke (Dead Beat)


HATEPINKS, THE:
Teste Malade/ Sick in the Head: 10” EP
Have to hand it to The Hatepinks. They could have easily slid into Briefs clone territory, and instead are ending up sounding like the radioactive house band to Repo Man, if Repo Man was set in France… and the Adverts sung about cheese or were a Do Wop band that played their instruments with stilettos instead of fingers… and there was a nearby beach that had a radioactive spill and when the barrels broke open, it was bubblegum… and everyone—even librarians—did a bunch of drugs, every second they were alive… and… well, you get the point. Bouncy ’77-friendly French weirdness that advocates animals sexual liberation while really just hoping that you’ll have a good time. –todd (TKO)


HALLELUJAH!:
Dirty Revival: CD
More gloriously honked smoot from the smoots at C.N.P., and more wacky than brutal, occasionally ponderous and bulky, like a heavy-gauge punching balloon and with a primo rock: noise ratio. Plus: “I Faked My Own Birth,” “Mysterious Finger,” “She Blinded Me with Intelligent Design,” and “Ass Disease Messages.” Smoot! –Cuss Baxter (C.N.P.)


GOVERNMENT WARNING:
No Moderation: LP
Perhaps I’m retarded. I’m willing to accept that. But I just don’t get how, twenty-plus years into listening to punk rock, and especially hardcore, it still catches me a little unawares how much I like short, fast songs. It’s supposed to be diminishing returns, right? You can only go so fast, and then it’s a blur. All the fast points have been covered, and better, by the biggies, right? But once or twice a year, a band that’d definitely be aware of hardcore’s legacy tears right back into it, ripping pages right out of that history book. Government Warning’s not only fully loaded with razor-sharp playing and insightful lyrics, they’ve got so much controlled speed in one song alone, that if hooked up to a hamster wheel, would power a suburban home for a day. This makes me feel thirteen again, in all the cool ways (without the short shorts and such), and I’m hoping some kid just loses their shit to Government Warning just like I did when I first heard JFA, learning to ollie on my Variflex in my garage. Crazy good and I’m super glad this is coming out now, today. –todd (Feral Ward)


GIGLINGER:
Distortion +: CDEP
Giglinger is a four piece from Finland that seems slightly mysterious (no shows, no albums) but also produce fairly capable industrial punk. Think along the lines of Ministry, but a little different. While the mysterious mannerisms want me to think this is some sort of supergroup, the fact that they’re all from Finland made me realize that even if they were, no one would give a shit. The four songs on this EP aren’t a bad start but there’s not a lot to go on here to really say for sure. It’s all put together well, but nothing really jumps out and does a whole lot for me. –kurt (King Penguin)


GG ALLIN AND ANTISEEN:
Murder Junkies: CD
As my somewhat warm Pabst and I sit down to begin a review of this re-release of GG and Antiseen’s Murder Junkies CD (originally available, I believe, on the immortal Baloney Shrapnel label), TV sets across America are buzzing with masturbatory coverage of the fresh death of the celebrity train wreck known as Anna Nicole Smith. A fitting background, I suppose, to ruminate about one of the most garish train wrecks of the modern era; scumfuc sex symbol, Mr. GG “Jesus” Allin. It may well be true to say that the only thing that we, as a narcissistic, reality-TV-addicted society, are more fascinated with than our own selves, is celebrity train wrecks. GG’s Q-Score, of course, never got close to that of Anna Nicole, because, for one thing, we seem to prefer our train wrecks, like our rebels, to look like movie stars. Whether you’re crashing and burning or raging against the system, you’d better damn well look good doing it. If not, the sleepy gaze of the ovine populace will wander elsewhere. And let’s be honest: it didn’t help GG’s Q-Score to have a pink Mike-N-Ike between his legs. Can you imagine what a folk hero he’d be if he’d been proudly brandishing a giant trouser pike like that of adored metal dunce, Tommy Lee? I’ll even go so far as to say that Tommy Lee is a celebrity now because of his abundant schwanz. He’s literally riding the coattails of his own penis. Yes, he’s a decent, if unimaginative, heavy metal drummer in a popular ‘80s hair metal band, and he’s an apparently sweet, dumb guy—when he’s not practicing rock star-style domestic abuse. But would he really have ascended to the heights of fame that he has if he hadn’t done so by scaling his own dick ladder? I doubt it. He’d be just another also-ran, half-baked celebrity, starring on B-celebrity reality TV shows like his compadre Vince Neal. No big whoop. And then that begs the question: if GG didn’t have his famously toddler-sized dink, would he have had the seething rage and all-encompassing loathing that inspired him to make a name for himself by spazzing out naked in public and re-eating the digested dinner he had the night before? And that makes me wonder what would GG have been like if he were around now to take advantage of all the wonderful penis enlargement technologies that I keep hearing about through constant and daily email ad campaigns. I’m sure GG was much more complex than a mere penis envy case and I don’t doubt that, for whatever reasons, he felt real pain in his short, tattered life. But as it is with all celebrity train wrecks, be it Anna Nicole or GG Allin, it’s hard not to wonder what inspired them to do what they did while they were alive. And it’s especially difficult to try to unknot the truths and the lies of their lives from one another. That’s because the truth of their perceived fakeness or genuineness probably lies most closely to the realm of paradox; the Twilight Zone-ish area where the lines we’ve all drawn between our either-or’s disappear like Britney Spears underpants. As a matter of fact, it is out of a healthy respect for the gooey reality of paradox in our everyday lives that I try to make a point of drinking my beer out of a Klein bottle (a sort of Mobius Strip version of a bottle that has no actual inside or outside) just to remind myself how our rational mind forever falls short of explaining away the weird, weird universe in which we live. But I seem to have wandered far afield here, as I so oftentimes do. On with the review: This re-release captures the euphonious sounds of GG Allin teamed up with the Boys from Brutalsville and if you’ve ever heard GG or Antiseen before, you know just what to expect. Glowering scum dirges of hate with guitars that sound like lawnmowers running in a tin shed. This CD also includes a few tracks of GG’s tender “unplugged” side, crooning “I wanna fuck the shit out of you” in his best David Allan Coe impersonation. The thing about GG, though, was that he always sang—or hollered—like he had a couple shoehorns lodged in his mouth. But maybe that’s a good thing, because no one wants a self-proclaimed “outlaw scumfuc” to have the clean virginal pipes of someone like Josh Groban. Sounding like you might be sucking on some turdballs the way other people suck on hard candies can only lend to your verisimilitude when you’re someone in GG’s line of business. The only problem with having a mouthful of dung Mentos is that sometimes GG’s “sinister” lyrics lose some of their scariness to the mush-mouth syndrome. For example, on “I Hate People” it sounds like he might actually be singing “I hate cream corn”—which would be a funny thing for GG Allin to be singing, considering that the foul glop that used to drop from his backside babyfood dispenser looked a lot like cream corn much of the time. And no one in their right mind would ever slather their bloodied, naked body with something they hate, right? That just wouldn’t make sense. But maybe this has less to do with GG and more to do with the wax build up in my ears. Then again, it never really was about the lyrics. GG was a lot of things, but he was no poet. He wasn’t even all that original. Some of his most infamous trademark moves had already been done by others: most notably, Sid, Iggy, and Stiv. Each of those gentlemen had experimented with onstage scarification rituals before GG did. Even his never-made-good threat to kill himself onstage wasn’t all that original; Nazi Dog, of Canada’s Viletones, had made similar threats years before the gimmick even flickered in GG’s dented head. And as far as jerking his pud and shitting himself in public goes, Diogenes the Cynic secured that act as his “intellectual property” way back in ancient Greece, several hundred years before the birth of that other famous “Jesus.” But GG was certainly an original synthesis of all those people and all their various vile acts. And he took that whole burning shit heap of reckless endangerment and rage and he pushed it further and more demonically than anyone has, before or since. And in some weird way, in doing so, he provided us a vital service much like Diogenes did way back when. That’s something that I don’t think can be said of a train wreck like Anna Nicole. “All retch and no vomit” is a tag you can never pin on GG Allin. –aphid (TKO)


GENTLEMAN JESSE & HIS MEN:
Self-titled: 7”
You may know “Gentleman” Jesse Smith as the bass player for Atlanta’s devastating punk juggernaut, the Carbonas. What you may not know is that this kid can also play guitar and has written two as close to perfect power pop songs as you’re bound to hear this year. “I Don’t Wanna Know (Where You Been Tonight)” will lodge itself in your head indefinitely with its catchier than Chlamydia at a ‘Frisco bathhouse chorus, while “Going Out of My Mind” will make you forget all about those bouncy Pointed Sticks songs you like so much. Your friends will compare them to the mighty Firestarter, perhaps even the Exploding Hearts. And, you won’t be surprised in the least next January when you see Gentleman Jesse’s Douchemaster 7” appear on multiple Top Ten of 2007 lists. Fan-fucking-tastic. –benke (Douchemaster)


GBH:
A Fridge Too Far, From Here to Reality, Church of the Truly Warped: CDs
By the time this trio of albums saw the light of day, I had pretty much written GBH off as another casualty to the dreaded “crossover” trend of punk, so listening to the Captain Oi’s recent spate of reissues from their back catalogue has been an interesting crash course in what I missed the first time ’round. While the two albums that followed City Baby’s Revenge were serviceable compared to the band’s “classic” period, the first of the three albums being discussed here, A Fridge Too Far, is actually quite solid, recalling earlier efforts by delivering solid punk tunes with a surprising level of aggression, given they’d been slogging it out for nigh on eight years by the time it was recorded. There was also at this point precious little of the “metal” that portended so many of their peers’ descent into the maelstrom of utter suckdom during the same time period. Sadly, the same cannot be said about their next release, From Here to Reality. Although their lyrical content remained firmly rooted in both the topical and the absurd rather than the obtusely satanic, musically they finally embraced the metal influence with open arms, a move which by some would be argued as “progression,” but by others would be viewed as a complete reversion to the very tenets punk rock was reacting against. While their efforts in the world of metal weren’t abysmal, per se, it just wasn’t GBH any more than glam metal was Discharge. By the time of the last of these releases, Church of the Truly Warped, they were a totally different kinda band, one that these ears find considerably less interesting, and though they’ve recently reverted to a more “punk” sound, they just ain’t been the same since. All is not lost, however, for although they did, indeed, slide down the slippery metal slope, they apparently did manage to crank out three more albums of note between City Baby’s Revenge and From Here to Reality than previously thought, upping the ante to five albums upon which they can hang their legacy. –jimmy (Captain Oi)


FUTURE VIRGINS:
Self-titled: 7”
From the first five notes, I knew this was gonna be awesome. This is a southern “supergroup” consisting of two guys from Sexy and two guys from the Jack Palance Band, and it’s every bit as good as those two bands in their finest moments. It’s especially nice to hear Ashley return to the blown-out hollering we all fell in love with on the first Sexy LP. I’m sure that, just like me, you were worried after the polished, squeaky clean singing on Boma Ye that he wouldn’t be able to bounce back, but these expertly written songs of love and life and heartbreak are exactly what I was hoping for. This record is absolutely wonderful and I sure hope an LP is in the foreseeable future. –ben (Plan-It-X South)


FUTURE VIRGINS, THE:
Self-titled: 7”
Ho-ly god-damn sh-it. So much for attending the wake due to the loss of Sexy and here’s a high five to Chattanooga for being so shitty and rat infested, but cheap, that music like The Future Virgins just rolls out of there easy. If you listen close, the Sexy riffs are fungusing all through this. If you listen to this cranked, the fractured-but-whole, smashed-but-clear strike force of The Jack Palance Band (and Horrible Odds) rings real loud. If you take a step back and soak in it, it has the feeling of an unreleased Carrie Nations 7”. A bite of desperation. An ugly cyst that, when it pops, it’s cheap beer. That “Bwwaaaahhh! This is so good I don’t want to explain it” feeling pervades through all five songs on this 7”. Take all those compass coordinates together and they point to one direction: awesome city. –todd (Plan-It-X South)


FUN 100/ PAPER LANTERNS:
Pull the Goalie: Split 7” EP
My lame record player couldn’t play this loud enough! Fun 100 are full of power pop goodness, although maybe a little too indie rock for me. But the Paper Lanterns (I’m guessing it’s a Green Day reference) are completely and totally amazing! An awesome throwback to early Lookout Records, especially MTX. I heard they broke up, but I need to track down everything they ever released. If this were a cereal, Fun 100 would be Apple Jacks (pretty good), but Paper Lanterns would be Cinnamon Toast Crunch! Yum! –Maddy (Hockey Dad)


FUCKED UP:
Triumph of Life: 7”
I’m not one of those people who are on a mission to collect every Fucked Up 7”. For sure, it’s a noble effort and in the end it will have been well worth it. But I just don’t have the funds or dedication for that conquest. And while this 7” is cool, the only reason I can see why someone should buy it is if they are trying to accumulate every Fucked Up 7”. If someone is thinking that this 7” would be a good introduction to the band, they might as well just save the money and by the double LP. If you’re disappointed with that…kill yourself. –Daryl Gussin (Jade Tree)


FRONTSIDE FIVE:
Fall Out of Line: CD
This is the record that I shall judge all hardcore records against for quite some time. Really, it’s that good. We’re talking serious skate rock here. From the opening chords of “Skate to Hell” (not a Gang Green cover) to the end of “Mr. Hyde,” this had me screaming and weaving through traffic. I’ve really got to stop reviewing in the car! We’re talking spastic hardcore punk with a damn near perfect mix of skating, drinking, and politics. I was almost out the door with my skate before I remember that my foot is busted. Get this now and prepare to be shredded. –ty (Fivecore)


FPO:
(Title in Macedonian): 7” EP
Über-fast hardcore from a Macedonian band that, on occasion, sounds like very early SS Decontrol. Dunno if they sing in Macedonian—the lyric sheet ain’t—but they’re focused on smoking while pregnant, the high rate the Macedonian postal system charges, depression, female punk apathy in their scene, “Straight Is Great, Gay Is Okay,” and the fascist leanings of some straight edge adherents, which was interesting, considering they’re on what appears to be a straight edge label. –jimmy (Third Party)


FOR SCIENCE:
Revenge for Hire: CD
Perhaps The Ergs! have sprinkled the fine state of New Jersey with magical pop punk dust, covering the impressionable youth with a love of Screeching Weasel and 1980s melodic punk melodies. Could it be? It is! Yay! Yummy pop punk without sounding like The Queers Beat Off (the mistake of ninety-six percent of post-1998 pop punk bands, according to my statistics). Seventeen songs in twenty minutes and thirty-eight seconds! If this were a cereal, it’d be Frosted Cheerios, covered with the, um, sugar that is The Ergs! I can’t stop listening to this! –Maddy (Don Giovanni)


FLAMING TSUNAMIS, THE:
Fear Everything: CD
Having never ere been blessed by the discordant throes of the Flaming Tsunamis (I live alternately under a rock and in a cave), I was a bit put off the record’s opening by what seemed overt Napalm Death-esque stylings. That soon passed, however, since not only do I like Napalm Death-esque stuff if done well, but the horns that kicked in a few seconds later really took the edge off. It was like getting the crap knocked out of me by somebody who was making me laugh and dance while he kicked in my head—pleasure and pain, the beautiful and the repugnant all at once. I really like this record because there is a true edge of dark malevolence and grim revelry in twisted gore, but the Flaming Tsunamis don’t appear to take themselves completely seriously, whether it’s the injections of horns and/ or ska riffs into the metal at various points, or the sardonic, tongue-in-cheek humor that underwrites so much of the record. Good, good stuff. –The Lord Kveldulfr (Kill Normal)


FALLOUT, THE:
The Turning Point: CDEP
A band’s tribute to their scene and its long-gone musical heroes—some known, some obscure—features covers of tracks by The Young Lions, Nobody’s Heroes, UIC, The Viletones, Youth Youth Youth, The Allies, and The Red Squares. While the songs are strong in their own right, the covers are solid and should help to pique interest in Toronto’s past. –jimmy (Longshot)


FAGS, THE:
Light’ Em Up: CD
Tragic story of another band destroyed by major label bullshit. You can read about it on their myspace page. But in a nutshell, after trying to get this record out to a larger audience, they have decided to pack it in. Which is a shame, because this record rocks! I mean R-O-C-K. It’s like an unholy trinity of Cheap Trick, The Replacements, and Van Halen. Okay, the last band only on a couple guitar licks, but that got your attention, didn’t it? Great songwriting, sweet background vocal harmonies, and overall playing near perfection by this trio. “Here’s Looking at You” has the VH reference, but great vocals make this a killer tune. “Rockstar” is another great song that is catchy and full of swagger at the same time. I guess the point here is I can’t get enough of this record. Another fine addition to Detroit’s legacy of killer music. –koepenick (Idol)


EXIT CLOV:
Respond Respond: CD
Two violin players? Can that be necessary? Well, regardless, the result is pretty darn good. With their slightly arty pop, smart lyrics, and melodic hooks reminiscent of The Pixies, Exit Clov disguise their often disturbing themes beneath a shimmering mix of fuzzy guitars, soaring keyboards, and the aforementioned violins. It’s all very tastefully done and well balanced, never giving you too much of one thing. These are the kind of songs that may not seem super catchy while you’re listening, but which you’ll find yourself whistling later. Plus, who can resist a song called “Communist BBQ?” –brian (Livewire)


EVENS, THE:
Get Evens: CD
Second release for this DC duo featuring Amy Farina (The Warmers) and Ian MacKaye (Fugazi). Somehow a fuller sound is established more here than on the debut, even with only two members. Haven’t seen them in concert recently to confirm that live this is the same deal. Moody, brooding, and introspective feels on most of the songs on this CD. I won’t try and tackle any of the lyrical subject matter presented here, but it’s heavy stuff. I really like “Cut from the Cloth,” “All That You Find You Keep,” and “No Money.” “Get Even” is the best band theme tune since Living Colour’s “What’s Your Favorite Colour?” If you’re looking for repeats of their old outfits, do NOT tread here. But if you want a release that doesn’t really sound like any other new record out there now, then go get The Evens. –koepenick (Dischord)


ELYSIUM:
Huntley Ave.: CD
Bad, bad, BAD metal from dudes trying really hard to look like hip alt-rock dudes, or modern punkers or something. One member’s even sportin’ a beard that would make the Amish proud. Must be a pain in the ass keepin’ bread crumbs outta that bad boy. –jimmy (Elysium)


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·VOCABS, THE
·MISCALCULATIONS
·12 CENT
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·SCREAMING FEMALES / HUNCHBACK
·URBAN GUERILLA #10
·Record Reviews from Issue #39, 1 of 4
·JONESES
·FLOOR ABOVE, THE


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