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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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ANTEENAGERS MC:
Let’s Not Have a Party: 7” EP
Here are the things that automatically come to mind with the Anteenagers MC: stilettos, pins and needles, walk-in freezers, and piano wire beginning to press on my throat while good music is being played. They’re a French foursome from the musical incest pool of the No Talents and Operation S who’ve picked up the best and most anxious bits of art punk. When I say, “Comparable to Entertainment!-era Gang of Four,” it means that they’re both danceable (and not disco, like later Gang of Four), and angular (like a mannequin body in fancy clothes thrown out of a fourth story window. It’s pretty, but it gets plenty fucked up on the landing, with appendages jutting out like broken tent poles.) It’s hard for art to rock and for rock to be arty, but the Anteenagers MC pretty much nail it. Strong, strong stuff. –todd (Plastic Idol)


AMBULANCE:
The End of Our Time: CD
I would imagine they’ve got some sub-sub-pigeonhole they fit into, but what I’m hearing sounds essentially like death metal without the satanic/Texas Chainsaw Massacre lyrics. Although they’re quite proficient at what they do, nothing about ’em really stands out. –jimmy (Wasted Sounds)


AGAINST ME!:
Searching for a Former Clarity: CD
Against Me! has done it again! A fifty state tour, acoustic freebies and a brand new album to delight and entertain the masses. They definitely broke their mold on Searching for a Former Clarity. It is not an album that can be compared to either Reinventing or Eternal Cowboy. It's a new day, friends, and the boys of Against Me! are really working hard to keep things fresh. Let's start with the introductory song, “Miami,” a raucous sing-along devoid of bullshit. It's best to listen to it with a bunch of drunken punks that hate their neighbors. A well-crafted and well-played song that again is just plain fun to sing! I've never even been to Miami but it's like I know exactly how they feel. Track three gives AM! a chance to take a shot at everything from corporate whores to the military. Good song, but way too short. Track five, “From Her Lips to God's Ears:” I absolutely hate Condolezza Rice and this song just solidifies that fact. Track six, “Violence,” slows the pace of the album just enough to let you catch your breath for the remaining eight songs. Beautifully sung and very reminiscent of older AM! I wish it were acoustic, though. Jumping to track eight, “How Low” is a powerful song that touches even the most hardcore. Who hasn't asked themselves, “How low can I go?” I love Cassidy Rist on this track; she compliments Tom's voice so well, like two lovers discussing their future. Track eleven has by far the most morality to it. The boys from Against Me! give the audience a rare look into the rigors of touring, the pressure to perform and the industry's effect on real artists who love the craft but not so much the politics. Tears formed when I heard this song for the first time. The music, the vocals and the overall feeling of this song is heartbreaking, very similar to “Pints of Guinness.” This is definitely one of my all time favorites. Track thirteen, “Don't Lose Touch," reels you back into singing loudly with a catchy, hook-laden song that deserves top decibel car play and all the radio time it can get. It's a candy version of Against Me! that can be spoon-fed to the unenlightened. Not taking away from Tom Gabel or any of the guys from AM!, but this is a song that appeals to a broader spectrum of listeners and hopefully with encourage them to pick up the album and explore the wonderful world that is Against Me! –Guest Contributor (Fat)


ABEST:
Klaustrofobi: 7” EP
Sparse Dutch hardcore that is the aural equivalent to a Russian gulag. Although there’s a lot of hard work going on and time served, the movements are sparse, the atmosphere bleak, and the weather fuckin’ cold. It’s like they’ve taken the transitional parts of Dead Kennedys songs (think of the instrumental interludes or “Moon Over Marin” without vocals) and somehow incorporated them into the expansiveness of Tragedy, all set during a long, long winter. Not flashy, but expertly placed barbed music played with the care and precision of laying spools of wire on top of tall, foreboding buildings. –todd (Kick n Punch)


A DECADE BEHIND:
Self-titled: CD
I was going to say something about That Dog and how they’d go “la-la-la” and then “Rarrrrr-rarrrrr-rarrrr?” I was going to say that this is somewhere in the middle where it stays static and oh-so-boring. Oh, and there’s a eight plus minute “song” of a radio report with music and fuzz. I was going to say that this was boring, but inoffensive. I was going to say this until I got to their cover of “House of the Rising Sun” (which you shouldn’t cover unless your name is Eric Burdon). If you’re going to yell cookie monster meets death metal through the whole thing, please don’t make anyone have to suffer through that. Do it for fun once in your garage, maybe record it for kicks, but for everyone’s sake, keep that shit in you bedroom where you can hide your shame. Blech. –megan (slipperyblacknoise@yahoo.com)


86 MENTALITY:
Goin’ Nowhere Fast: CD

This is a collection of their two 7” releases, a couple of unreleased tracks, and some live cuts. The music is yer basic template hardcore-meets-oi stuff, with no metal inflections to be found, which is a blessing, but the singer’s voice—from the Slapshot Academy of Hardcore Warblin’, but maybe deeper and a bit growlier—is a bit grating and detracts from the band’s potential power, although I gotta say the live cuts are pretty strong. I was gonna crack wise on the silliness of releasing a “discography” when the band has been active a mere three years at best and have a grand total of two seven-inchers, but, if they can manage to scrape up nineteen tracks that clock in at a total of twenty-eight minutes, they’re entitled, I reckon.

–jimmy (Grave Mistake)


101’ERS, THE:
Elgin Avenue Breakdown Revisited: CD
Re-release of Joe Strummer’s pre-Clash outfit. Bolstered with some live tracks, this is the definitive release of this material, unless you still have it on vinyl of course. Joe playing “pub rock” is a bit jarring at first, but after a few listens I’m sure you become enamored of it as I have. These are mostly Strummer originals, with some covers of Chuck Berry, Bo Diddley, and Slim Harpo brought to a live frenzy. “Sweet Revenge” and “Surf City” are my faves of Strummer’s on this disc. Isn’t it also illegal to not like a band that has a bass player called Mole? The 101’ers sweaty take on Them’s “Gloria” is rock solid at close to eight minutes on the end of the record. Not groundbreaking, but highly entertaining nonetheless. I miss you, Joe. –koepenick (Astralwerks)


ELECTRIC 6:
Señor Smoke: CD
Big, beefy, and highly synthesized, this Detroit sextet is reminiscent of Rocket From The Crypt in some strange universal twist. A hit in the U.K., where this album was first released, the self-dubbed disco-punk description is somewhat telling—nonsensical lyrics, a spinal column of power keyboards (Tait Nucleus), porno bass (John R. Dequindre, Frank Lloyd Bonaventure), cock rock guitars (The Colonel, Johnny Nashinal), and silver-tongued, masculine vocals (Dick Valentine). This oddly balanced mix of dance, garage, and what-have-you is simultaneously repulsive and magnetic. –thiringer (Metropolis)


DRAMA QUEENS:
Sting of the Bee: 7"
This is pretty standard fare. Noisy and sloppy garage music with hints of punk, surf, and pop, complete with stupid lyrics about trying to get a DUI and bees. I appreciate where they are coming from, but I’ve heard way too much of this genre, even in the stuff I’m reviewing for this current issue that is just way better to say anything fantastic about the Drama Queens. It’s slightly catchy, but mostly just a lackluster first attempt, although I can say there seems to be enough energy here to make a great live band. –Guest Contributor (Shoot First)


DIGITAL LEATHER:
Simulator: 7"
I’d like to think Tomata Du Plenty and Gary Numan are nodding their heads “yes” and passing a flag down to Digital Leather. DL captures the ‘80s captivation of the synthesizer and punk ethics, cool electric sounds, and some rocking although not as aggro as The Screamers or as hit and miss pop as Numan. Stuff like this was one of a few crossover items I would use in seventh grade to get Tiffany DuCray to think I’m cool. She was so pretty and dressed nice in plaid. Her dad was the high school gym teacher and she always wanted to run away, but essentially being a rich girl kept her at home. I think she only dated jocks like Tad Dominick, and, although I got along with both of them, I could never really date a girl like that. But I would play this music loud around them and I swore they thought I was cool. Years later, she saw me with a cute girlfriend and literally said, “Wow. I always thought you were square.” Now I’m an adult and over being liked. The music is still rad. –mike (Plastic Idol)


DESTRUCTORS:
Exercise the Demons of Youth; Punk Singles Collection: CD
The Destructors dealt in rudimentary, quick-paced 1-2-1-2 punk, not unlike so many other bands coming from the U.K. during the late ‘70s/early ‘80s. This is not necessarily a bad thing, and as evidenced by Exercise the Demons of Youth, their debut, they were quite proficient at knocking out a solid eighteen tunes of the stuff (some of which, including “Northern Ripper” and “Breakdown,” were previously recorded and released under the name The Blanks back in 1978 or so), delivering some solid tracks rife with social commentary and serial killer stories. It serves as a nice time capsule of that period in U.K. punk when things were still quite simple, passionate, and open to anyone with enough conviction and balls to get up on a stage and rant a bit while a tight band thrashed away behind ‘em. The singles collection starts off in the same vein, with their early singles charting similar territory as Exercise, but somewhere around the middle of the disc things start to change—more interesting drumming patterns emerge here, a little more guitar experimentation there, maybe a few more slower tempos and just when you think they might have “matured” in sound, WHACK, another thrasher. Gotta love that. –jimmy (Captain Oi)


ESCAPED, THE:
Self-titled: CDEP
Fairly standard anthemic punk with bellowed lyrics of alienation and walking the margin. Fairly consistent faster-than-shit tempo with moments of spooky promise when they break it down a bit. It’s okay. –Guest Contributor (TKO)


EMERGENCY:
1234: CD
So far as I’m able to reckon, this is a modern Canadian skin band that eschews the requisite odes to drinking, blind patriotism, and right-wing warmongering in favor of swipes at the vapidity of factory life, the army, the United States government, and the homogenization of western society. Musically, the band recycles more than their share of riffs, but, on the whole, the tunes work and they sound considerably more authentic than the majority of their bald contemporaries. I dig ’em. –jimmy (Step-1 Music)


ELECTRELANE:
Axes: CD
The sound of the dentist drilling away at my teeth is more sonically appealing than this racket. One can only hope that Steve Albini produced this mostly instrumental debacle for the money, and even then I still don’t forgive him. Every song on Axes is painfully long and riddled with screeching fiddles, banjos, and horns, as well as a plinking/plunking piano that hammers away at your skull. I’m almost certain that track eight is a bunch of people aimlessly bashing away at every instrument that exists. The last track, clocking in at nearly ten minutes, is quite possibly the worst song ever recorded. God damn, this sucks! –kat (Too Pure/Beggars Group)


EERIE VON:
Bad Dream #13: CD
Poor Eerie Von. He was the Misfits' roadie, then he got to play bass in Samhain. When Samhain turned into Danzig, Eerie lucked out and made the cut (I guess sticking it out through Final Descent paid off for him.) But, at some point right after Danzig IV came out, Eerie must've done something to piss Glenn off, ‘cause he got kicked out of Danzig, and ever since he's been like a ghost, occasionally drifting by with a solo album like this one. It's apparent that Eerie wasn't the secret songwriting talent in either Samhain or Danzig, ‘cause this CD pretty much relies on tricks to get by. Tricks, I imagine, that Eerie learned from Glenn during the keyboard-and-drum-machine phase of Final Descent. Tricks borrowed from the bullshit that Glenn is trying to pass off as Danzig these days. Pretty much, this record sounds like a dude dicking around on a four track. And that's pretty much what it is. –ben (Ghastly)


EERIE VON:
Bad Dream #13: CD
Gloom, doom, and general misery abound here, which is what one would expect from the former bass player for Samhain/Danzig. While the faintest of Glenn influences may be apparent, this actually sounds more like Ian Curtis fronting Death in June, who in turn happen to be on a blues bender. While it works in some places, the songs overall aren’t all that engaging or strong, and thus tend to blend together after a while. With better material to work with, and a full-on band, Eerie might just pull off a truly great death rock album yet. –jimmy (Ghastly)


EASY ACTION:
Friends of Rock and Roll: 7”
Easy Action’s singer, John Brannon, has an unquestionable pedigree. From being in one of the bar-none best hardcore bands of all time, Negative Approach, to the gargling nails, hard-driving powerhouse of the Laughing Hyenas, there’s no doubt that his dues have been paid and his time has been served. For me, Easy Action flirts on that same edge of rock’n’roll as the Antiseen. I appreciate what they’re doing, but half the time it’s hard to sustain enthusiasm. Easy Action are rough and growly and thuddy. They’re definitely not sugaring anything, but, musically, they can be pretty standard, repetitive, and a couple ticks too slow for me to really get behind. Wanted to like this more. –todd (Reptilian)


WINKS, THE:
Too Hot to Be This Cool: CD
Sounds like a post-Supercharger edition of Girlschool (but factoring in some other factor that allows the subjects to rocket thru thirteen songs in eighteen minutes), which is not, in and of itself, enough to seriously renew or resuscitate my flagging interest in The Punk Rock; however, when i clicked on the multimedia content files (that means "movie") and the Quicktime™ file opened up not in a generic player, but in a cool oval with a thick pink border and a Winks logo above the screen and a background that blended from white on the top to pink on the bottom, in what would be the rough equivalent of a 20 lpi screen, with little white control buttons with pink arrows and such on them, well... holy shit, color me reborn. You heard it here first, folks: MULTIMEDIA CONTENT IS GO!!! BEST SONG: "Saturday Night" BEST SONG TITLE: I dunno, "Saturday Night" seemed to go down a storm for the Bay City Rollers. FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: As much as i love the custom-made winkin' pink Winks Quicktime™ player, it is my sad duty to report that the thing doesn't have a pause button, and that neither the fast forward nor rewind buttons are functional on my computer. I frown upon such slipshod functionality! Also, i can't spell the word "resuscitate" without singing the Sweet Baby song "Resuscitation." –norb (Super Secret)


WILLOWZ, THE:
Talk in Circles: CD
This band has swiftly devolved to the point where they're at their best when trying to either sound like a) a thrift store version of the second side of the first Television album, or b) some sort of high school biology experiment embarked upon with the aim of finding out what Redd Kross would've sounded like had they been remiss any particularly good songs. The Jefferson Airplane-ish psychedelic she-mumblings, the quasi-free-jazz-improvisationings, the neo-White-Stripe-White-Stripings? Uh, no. Please. No. No more. I can't even think of a funny way to say this. Please stop. Thanks. BEST SONG: "Ulcer Soul," maybe. BEST SONG TITLE: "Linear Communication," although i'm really starting to lean towards "We Can Die Now" FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: I'd like to thank the Milwaukee Brewers and Washington Nationals baseball clubs, for it was the radio broadcast of your May 16th, 2005 game that made my stopping listening to this CD possible. –norb (Sympathy)


WEERD SCIENCE:
Friends and Nervous Breakdowns: CD

“How come every record I’m on ends up in the 99 cent bin?”

Dear Josh,

Good question and thanks for asking. If you had asked it sooner and not had to record and release a record to get the question to me (you know, I have a PO Box, a website, an email address, you probably could have gotten my phone number through one of the few degrees of separation that exist between us), I could have saved all of us a lot of work and suffering. The answer is easy, dude. This album will wind up in 99 cent bins because:

You play in Coheed And Cambria and you’re rapping.

No self-esteem set to beats doesn’t fly very well. I won’t argue that all rap has to be boasting or conscious (not every motherfucker can be Slick Rick or Sage Francis), but self-deprecation gets boring quickly, regardless of genre. If you want to keep your records out of the cheapo bins, may I suggest playing an acoustic guitar? Conor Oberst and Chris Carrabba seem to have done okay with that instrument.

While you touch on similar topics, your name isn’t Eminem and you didn’t come from 8 Mile. Your name is Josh and you came from Kingston, which is about halfway between Albany and New York. Sure, you can rap about anything, but rhymes about being a bored suburban cracker from New York state really aren’t that interesting.

Once again, thanks for asking. Others seeking advice don’t need to go to such extremes to get my attention. You can just write me care of Razorcake and I’ll happily answer your questions. –scott (Equal Vision)


VICE SQUAD:
The Riot City Years: CD
Matt Wingrove’s truck, summer 1988. That’s what this CD conjures up. My friend Matt was a total Angophile when it came to punk and a sucker for a band with a girl rockin’ the mic, so it was almost a gimme that Vice Squad would be one of his favorite bands (well, them, the Superheroines, Pandoras, and L7, the latter of the three he liked so much he roadied for them during that period), and he played them CONSTANTLY. Normally, some would find such repeated listenings of the same band day in and day out intolerable, but Vice Squad were such a good goddamn band—grade-A ‘80s British punk fronted by the legendary Beki Bondage—that you really didn’t notice that the same tape was being played over and over again. At one point, he bought a copy of every Vice Squad single he could find and, voila, a whole new slew of tunes for our listening enjoyment. A good hunk of the tunes that comprised that second Vice Squad tape are here (as well as three songs from a demo by their side band the Sex Aids), essentially the tracks from the pre-Stand Strong, Stand Proud singles, all of it crucial listening. Haven’t seen Matt since 1991 and last I heard, he was living in San Berdoo. Listening to this, though, with the stereo cranked to its full, wall-shaking maximum, I find myself back in that battered mini-truck of his, complete with “Yogi is a sex dwarf” and “The Rejected” (the name of the band he and Yogi had at the time) graffiti in the bed and exhaust streaming in from the hole in the cab floor, cruising the hills of City Terrace, looking for a gig to go to, some trouble to get into, or some combination thereof. –jimmy (Step-1 Music)


VARIOUS ARTISTS:
Smash the States: CD
One of the truly great things about compilations that has been more or less lost since punk rock became the music industry’s latest cash cow is that they were once a great way to get acquainted with what was going on in other parts of the punk rock world, both within a certain geographic area and within a sub-scene. In some cases, they were the only way less affluent scenes could prove their existence to the larger world, and many of them became classics in their own right. In the U.S. alone, Flex Your Head, Boston Not LA, Not So Quiet on the Western Front, Cottage Cheese from the Lips of Death, No New York, Yes LA, and the Rodney on the Roq and Life Is… series introduced the likes of Minor Threat, Void, Jerry’s Kids, The Freeze, Gang Green, MDC, 7 Seconds, Urban Assault, Flipper, Whipping Boy, Big Boys, Dicks, DRI, Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, DNA, The Germs, Black Randy, Shattered Faith, Black Flag, Saccharine Trust, and literally hundreds of others. In recent years, however, the once-noble compilation format has seen its reputation sullied by ignoble labels showcasing the meager efforts of their talent pool, much of which sounds indistinguishable from one song to the next, and faux “regional” comps that are often nothing more than thinly disguised versions of the aforementioned label showcase format. Thankfully, though, it appears that the true “scene” compilation is making a comeback, thanks to the likes of Hostage Records, Lengua Armada, and a few others. Which brings us to this bad boy. Subtitled as “redefining punk rock from the South,” a large contingency of the bands here represent the Carolinas, but other parts of that area of the United States are represented as well. The sounds are diverse in execution, with nary a band sounding like another elsewhere on the comp, even though much of what is on here could fall under the “hardcore” umbrella. Most significant is that the lion’s share of the groups here do not seem to have any professional affiliation with Suicide Watch Records, who put this out. The only significant gripe I can muster is, outside of email/web addresses, there’s a lack of info about the bands provided here. Sure, it saves on printing costs, but, being the curmudgeonly old schooler I am, I like info on the band—in all its spelling error-riddled, cut-out-of-magazines-and-pasted-helter-skelter glory—being provided with the comp. Outside of that, you could do much worse than picking this up and marveling at the racket being raised by the likes of Allergic to Bullshit, My So-Called Band, New Mexican Disaster Squad, Carrie Nations, The Fighting Mailmen, Forgotten Youth, and a bunch of others. Does it rival Flex Your Head? No, but it isn’t 1981, and this is one cool-ass look at what’s going down in the Southern underground circa 2005. –jimmy (Suicide Watch)


VARIOUS ARTISTS:
Psycho Ward: CD
One thing I appreciate about most psychobilly comps is that they always include an obscene number of songs. What better way to spread the Gospel? How about make sure all twenty-five tracks rock and are pertinent to the concept, not just half of them? Knockout numbers (thirteen to be exact, how 'billy is that?): Los Creepers, Henchmen, Hellbound Hearse, Big John Bates, Graveside Rockers, Mad Sin, Demon City Wreckers, Concombre Zombi, Blazing Haley, Phantom Rockers, Hellbillys, Koffin Kats, and the Rocketz. One complaint about the Blazing Haley song—don't they have anything new? When I hear a Blazing Haley song, it's almost always "Train to Nowhere." There are three so-so tracks: Sick City Daggers sound like the Swingin' Utters and Op Ivy; the Phenomenauts have a catchy tune that reminds me of Sigue Sigue Sputnik; and Speed Crazy has possibly the best bass line on the album, but the poor girl's vocals flatline. Unfortunately, there are nine bad tracks: Barnyard Ballers (who I usually like), G-String ("Down with the Cops" does not sound tough with a French accent and a pop melody), Thee Merry Widows (I'm very disappointed—psycho really needs a female group, but not one that sounds like Tribe 8.), the Coffin Draggers (sounds like Ministry's "Stigmata" in a wood chipper), Mad Ramblers (Credit: they know they're extra metal but they want it that way—for the kids who like to pit hard. It's just not my thing.), Slanderin' (see full-length review this issue), Heartbreak Engines, Mad Masato and Scary Boom (I can't pinpoint the reason on the last three). I was really excited to hear this and a little disappointed that I didn't love most of the songs. However, overall, this isn't a waste—there are enough good songs to make a full-length. You'll know instinctively when to skip tracks. One more nit-pick: the album's final artwork should have been spell-checked much more thoroughly, as should some of their advertisements. –thiringer (Split 7)


EPOXIES, THE:
Stop the Future: CD
I may not be able to articulate as well as others at this here mag in regards to this band. But I was highly anticipating this release to review and listen. I missed the debut 7" that sold real quick. But the dudes at Razorcake HQ made sure that I heard their self-titled full length. I was blown away like a scrap piece of newspaper on a windy day. That release had a long stay in the CD changer. A lot of bands are playing the second wave of new wave, but like any scene, only a few stand out. This band stands out. On this sophomore release, the production is much stronger and the songwriting has shown a continued maturity. They still have an amazing knack of creating and capturing the melody so that the songs are memorable and keep you humming. The guitars are much more prominent this time around and the quirkiness of the synths are not in the forefront but more complementary. In turn, the songs have more of a punch that you can feel from a distance. More rock and less novelty. Roxy Epoxy also sounds more confident in her vocal delivery. The vocals have more passion and I feel she gives the songs more emotional layers. Overall, they overcome the sophomore curse and put a release that is so much better than their previous product. If you haven’t taken the time to check this band out in the past, now is the time. Portland is kicking some major ass with the latest wave of bands coming out! –don (Fat)


EPOXIES, THE:
Stop the Future: CD
If anyone makes the snide remark that The Epoxies are an ‘80s rehash band, then their eyes must be dark brown due to the fact that they’re full of shit. Yes, The Epoxies borrow a half-cup of this and dash in a bit of that from some of what reared its head in the ‘80s, but it’s what they do with it that makes them so damn good when it comes to making records. There’s the winding synth that’s right in there with the pummeling rhythm section and rocking guitar, but it’s a pleasing mix that ain’t too rough/experimental, yet not too overproduced or slick like some of the clove cigarette smoke-filled, new-romantic dance hall slime that was spinning in the past. Roxy’s singing is a bit hard to put a finger on, but try and think of a young Chrissie Hynde (Pretenders) with the vocal meter of a young Leonard Graves (Dickies). Kudos to the Fat Wreck Chords folks for getting this second rekkid out in the hands of soon-to-be-fans. While you’re out doing yourself the favor of grabbing this, do yourself another and get their debut full length on Dirtnap. Both CDs will have you bobbing your head like a crack-ridden chicken in seconds flat (It’s true—it happened to me the first time I saw them blow the roof off The Echo in L.A. a few years ago). –dale (Fat)


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