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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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BUCKET FULL OF TEETH:
IV: CD
Rubber gorillas fight fluttering birdies on the lip of a spitting volcano. A dwarf in chain mail stands by, grinding his jaundiced teeth, and tosses ping pong balls into the crater where they incinerate in whispers, inches above the roiling lava. A dogcatcher pounds, intermittently, on the dwarf’s dented helmet with a bronzed horse dick, pausing now and then to shift the weight of the bricks taped to the back of his sweater. The alpha gorilla got gum in his hair. –Cuss Baxter (Level Plane)


BRUTAL KNIGHTS:
Not Fun: 7”
Canadian, punk-informed, hairy-voiced, Lemmy-lovin’ rock, matching the sensibilities and sounds of Minneapolis’s Midnight Evils. So, it’s not ironic. It’s not tedious. It’s not precious. They’ve got the good sense to shear off the solos, their songs are as sturdy as the buttons on a denim jacket, and they fly the punk and roll flag proudly. Not bad. Geek note: They appropriated the Volt Records label for the 45. –todd (Deranged)


BROKEN BONES:
Time for Anger, Not Justice: CD
All right, I'll admit it: I'm easily confused. But it's taken me several orbits around our sun to realize that that's a "good thing." As human beings go, I seem to be some sort of rough fish that swims best in muddied waters where things are not clear and uncertainty prevails. So whereas your typical buttoned-up music critic might have his bloomers bunched around his ass regarding this disc—I am splashing about with stupid bullhead abandon. The rub of uncertainty, in the case of these Broken Bones gents, is as follows: this is a band I know very little about, but it seems to me that they have been allied with Wattie and the Exploited and have even had, at times, an ex-Exploited member or two in their ranks. We all know that Wattie is, under a heat lamp, about as bright as a bag of horse boogers and rumors have continued to circulate that he is a door-to-door salesman for a White Power organization called Blood & Honour. What does this have to do with Broken Bones? Very little, I hope. It’s just that the way I’ve always heard it: Broken Bones, Exploited, and Discharge are/were like Siamese triplets attached at the ass. That means what flows through one, flows through the others and that might very well include a gene for vicious canine stupidity. At very least, judging by the album artwork, they certainly share with Wattie an adolescent fixation with human skulls. But maybe that’s about all they share. The lyrics of songs like “G8” and “Justify War” would seem to indicate, unless I’m missing out on some delicate British sarcasm, that these gents actually fall somewhat left of center and therefore, they would be unlikely to foster any unorthodox sexual fetishes involving Adolf Hitler’s smart little mustache. Bottom line is that this music makes me envision shirtless goons with big hairy shoulders and too few teeth beating the droppings out of a bunch of Promise Keeper/Ken Jennings types in a dark alleyway. And music that makes me think happy thoughts like that always warms the cockles of this old bullhead heart of mine. Bones and the boys serve up Wooly Mammoth slabs of metallic hardcore similar in heft to that of the Exploited but, thankfully, without the retard-o-centric trimmings of their bottom-feeding kinfolk. Ask Oprah: guilt-free hardcore is a beautiful thing. –aphid (Dr. Strange)


BOMBSHELLS, THE:
Self-titled: CD
What better way to start a Saturday morning than with some punk rock record reviewin’ and tending to some personal hygiene? Kill two birds with one stone, or Bombshell, if you will. The first verse of “She’s Coming” sounds so much like the Problematics “Here We Come” that I started singing “And it happens all the ti-i-i-ime…” when it came time for the chorus while listening to this in the shower. I shampooed my hair and washed my face to “I Want You Mine” and “Oh Yeah,” working my way down to the armpits, crotch, and thighs without taking too much notice of the music: catchy, poppy, punky, in the same vein as Sloppy Seconds (from whom they ripped off a number of guitar leads) and Forgotten Rebels (from whom they pilfered the slowed-down, heartfelt intro to “I Want You Mine” and nose-plugged-full-of-snot vocal delivery), sans the inspired song writing and stunted, juvenile senses of humor that made those bands great. I began cleansing my anus as “One Track Mind” cued up. Not bad. Certainly my favorite song on the CD. The cruel twist is that my affinity for the song and proximity of hand-to-rectum have been intertwined, creating a bizarre, Pavlovian response whereupon hearing it, I’m filled with a desperate urge to cram a few fingers into my asshole. Son of a bitch, I’m never showering with these guys again. And, fellas, if yer gonna call yerselves the Bombshells, the least ya could do is put a smokin’ hot babe on the cover. That Miguel Hell ain’t so easy on the eyes. –benke (No Front Teeth)


BOMBSHELLS, THE:
Self-titled: CD
Decent enough Hostage-style punk rock with a perpetually off-key singer. Not stunning, not agonizing. –jimmy (No Front Teeth)


BLOWTOPS:
Mad Monk Medication: 7”
Two wild, fuzzed-the-fugg-out ravers that preen and pirouette on the fine line between noise, punk, and balls-out rock’n’roll. The tune on the flip is a slow, twisted slab o’ psycho pop that decides every so often to whop you upside the head with a noisy interlude. I’m impressed. –jimmy (Big Neck)


BLOWFLY:
Fahrenheit 69: CD
Blowfly, a contemporary of ‘70s X-rated comedians like Rudy Ray “Dolemite” Moore, dishes up a bevy of rap and soul flavored tracks addressing booger-picking, sex, gay Black Republicans, ugly people, and “The Great Debate” (which is better: older or younger pussy?), with the word “cunt” sprinkled liberally throughout and vignettes explaining what he will do to improve the state of the country when elected president. The results are a bit of a mixed bag. When it works, like on “I Believe My Dick Can Fly,” the results are pretty funny, but when it doesn’t, it sounds like he was just trying to come up with enough material to reach the half-hour mark. –jimmy (Alternative Tentacles)


BLOODSTAINED KINGS / RADICTS:
Split: 7"
Solid, classic street punk, as could only be expected from Todd Radict (Radicts, LES Stitches). "Ordinary Man" (Bloodstained Kings) and the previously unreleased "When All Is Said and Done" (Radicts) on fuchsia and banana vinyl. –thiringer (TKO)


BLOOD, THE:
False Gestures for a Devious Public: CD
Having only previously heard “Such Fun” on one of the oi compilations and “Stark Raving Normal” on another comp I forget the name of, the rest of this disc, a reissue of their album, was a bit of a surprise. Although there’s quite a bit of metal in them geetars, there’s a definite Peter and the Test Tube Babies feel to much of the tuneage here, a good chunk of which thrashes along in wild abandon. The lyrics, for the most part, are either pointed potshots at the pope or of the cleverly dumb variety hell-bent on offending as much of the population as possible, an approach that is heartily encouraged in these parts. The addition of assorted bonus tracks from singles, comps, and demos make this a nice overview of the band’s career. –jimmy (Captain Oi)


BLOOD IN BLOOD OUT:
Respect Our Loyalty: CD
Musically, I love hardcore music. You get the heavy guitar riffings of metal and the anger of punk. Lyrically, I find it amusing that there is so much posturing about loyalty and such. Like it’s a self-esteem problem and you have to overcompensate to show that you belong. You will most likely never find me at a hardcore show. From what I have seen in the past and seen on videos, I could not stand the crowd with all that machismo going around. In terms of music though, I’m pretty easy going. I usually focus on the music. As long as it’s not racist, sexist, or lyrically remedial in the fourth grade sense, I can usually listen. I like to bang my head sometimes, so this does appeal to me. With a great recording, the guitars are crunchy and the bass and drums are solid. Adding musicianship, these chaps know how to play and write some mighty mean tunes. Everything I like in a band like Strife is represented here. Full of energy and rage. –don (Spook City)


BLISTERHEAD:
Via Casilina: CD
A European Dillinger Four knockoff that pales in comparison to the original. –jimmy (Mad Butcher)


BLASTOFFS, THE:
Sin to Win: CD
Stripped down, no-frills punk’n’roll with a crushing low end that makes me want to break shit. At times it becomes a bit dull and formulaic, but not that often, and some of these tunes knock me over like a swift kick in the nutsack, but in a good way. –Guest Contributor (The Blastoffs)


BLARE BITCH PROJECT:
Double Distortion Burger: CD
In the vein of Los Angeles nightclub cock rock, this record delivers the goods but with only half the cocks. It’s high-octane rock’n’roll with heavy slatherings of rawk, but one can still sense the ghost of Gene Vincent lurking somewhere behind all the power chords. Not, perhaps, one for the ages, but if records are like lovers, this is that wild girl you went out with for two weeks and smile about for the rest of your life. –Guest Contributor (Steel Cage)


BLACK SUNDAY:
Tronic Blanc: CD
Another side project of Alicja Trout, who has been involved with seemingly half of the records to come out of Memphis in the past five years. Here she’s playing almost all the instruments herself and doing a pretty damn good job. At times, it sounds kind of like the Mouserocket album and at others, it sounds like a lo-fi Lost Sounds outtake. I can’t promise it’ll blow your mind—I mean, you can pretty much just read the first sentence of the review and decide whether or not you need this—but she writes good songs and has a good voice and that’s about all you can ask for. If you’re unfamiliar with her musical efforts, a good primer is the Black Wave album that the Lost Sounds put out a couple years back and then this would be your next logical step. –Josh (Dirtnap)


BLACK HALOS:
Alive Without Control: CD
It took me awhile to “get” the Black Halos. The lead singer, at first, sounds almost like a cartoon character with laryngitis. They definitely fit the Johnny Thunders, near-dead, spike-in-vein, blackened lips and eyes, pale-faced aesthetic. All fine and well, but the fact that they released the underrated and barely heralded magnum opus, The Violent Years, four years ago ratcheted them up several notches. The Violent Years sound like Thunders, except with compassion for a struggling culture beyond his own devices. Alive Without Control is excellent: catchy, swaggering, and confident, and although I like gems on it like “Darkest Corners,” I find myself reaching back and playing The Violent Years louder and louder. With that record, there just seems to be more lurking behind them all, like a feeling of being hunted. Who knows? It took me a good year to fully embrace the previous album. Maybe it’ll take some more time drinking with this one to take full hold. I’m patient. –todd (Liquor and Poker)


BLACK COUGAR SHOCK UNIT:
Hello Black Cougar Shock Unit: CDEP
I get the feeling this came out in kind of a hurry. Four originals (one not listed) and three covers, with pretty minimal artwork and absolutely no information save for a lyric sheet. I have no idea where this band is from or what kind of scene they're in. I'm totally in the dark. Having said that, this is pretty good. It's riffy, heavy rock that sounds like it's being made by ex-straightedge kids. Seriously, that's what it sounds like to me. Or kinda like the JJ Paradise Player's Club. The lyrics are real pissed off (in two of the songs, the words "go fuck yourself" appear several times) and the artwork is just altered Sanrio characters that must be one of the band's inside jokes or something. I didn't like the slower-and-wimpier cover of Devo's “Freedom of Choice” but I really liked the cover of Steve Martin's “King Tut.” Hey guys, on the next record just put a little bit of information, okay? Postscript: A few days after I wrote this review, I got an email from my old buddy Mick. He told me he'd moved to Atlanta and joined a band with some ex-Panthro UK United 13 dudes called Black Cougar Shock Unit. Oh. –ben (Newest Industry)


BLACK COUGAR SHOCK UNIT:
Godzilla Tripwire: CD
You can tell me to shut the fuck up about Panthro UK United 13 at any time, but the fact is that I’ve put Sound of a Gun on consistently since 1998. Maybe I should just get over it. But Alex’s voice and guitar are distinctive as is Shane’s drumming, and when I pop in House on Fire (whose debut EP ruled) or Black Cougar Shock Unit, I keep reflecting back to PUKU 13 and comparing and contrasting. And I’ve come to this conclusion: I don’t like hard rock noodling in my punk. When Black Cougar Shock Unit blast from the gates, stomp holes in drywall, put the cat in the oven, and piss in the neighbors’ ears while doing hand-clapping push ups on the hoods of their victims’ SUVs, I like them. When they start playing originals that remind me—rightly or wrongly—of “Wang Dang Sweet Poontang,” I’m less than enthralled. I just don’t like the wanking. I like it when they hit the afterburners. So, it’s a 50/50 proposition. –todd (Newest Industry)


BENT OUTTA SHAPE:
Stray Dog Town: LP
Don’t get scared when I say Bent Outta Shape has matured from their tumbling 12”EP and early 7”s. They’re not singing about mortgages, elbowing into sweater vests, and ordering lattes in Volvos. But, this LP is a marked departure from their delightfully rip-shod Toys That Kill meets Horrible Odds debuts. First and foremost, it reminds me of the Replacements. Not just generically Replacement-esque, but a celebration of almost their entire catalog, cherry picked, distilled, and turned into a new form of DIY wine. The songwriting, although not as bombastic, and taking a couple of spins to let settle in, is just as compelling when they go fast and when they cool their heels. Megan Pants made the astute remark when listening to this: “It sounds old, like it came out awhile ago.” And she’s right—old not meaning bad. Curiously, this has all the earmarks of a landmark early ‘80s punk record without the distasteful smell of burned-out rehash. Bent Outta Shape have rediscovered a comfortable, exciting sound, one that I think got discarded before being fully explored. Why the hell not revive the ghosts and push them further than they went before? Excellent stuff. –todd (Recess)


BARS:
Introducing…: CD
Considering how many times I’ve pointed out that merely listing bands that provided members for a project is the cheapest of a reviewer’s many cheap tricks, I shouldn’t be surprised that—for once—it bit me in the ass. The Bars includes members of The Hope Conspiracy, Give Up the Ghost, and the Suicide File, three of my favorite hardcore and punk bands of this decade to date, and it sounds like what you might expect from people steeped in rock and roll and the more visceral side of hardcore (Black Flag and the Funhouse-era Stooges are two bands that spring most immediately to mind, but there are a handful of groups which exhibited a similar level of intensity and a similar approach to rock‘n’roll damage and destruction). Simply put, this is a snarling, ferocious, steel-booted kick in the teeth—it’s far more recidivist than most contemporary hardcore; instead of focusing on smooth, polished riffs and more standard modern hardcore production, it bristles with jagged edges, rock riffs, and menace. This is the Altamont to modern hardcore’s Woodstock; as the Bars rampage through these blistering guitar-driven songs, it feels more like a bats-and-chains street fight than any recent form of punk. To my way of thinking, that makes this record even more enjoyable, precisely because it neither pulls punches nor takes the easy, commercial way out. Perhaps even more importantly and impressive, even though Bars includes members of a number of contemporary hardcore bands, it doesn’t really sound like any of those bands—these musicians got together and created something different from what they had done in the past. While I can’t call it new, it’s still a very welcome rabbit punch of rock’n’roll. –scott (Equal Vision)


BANG! BANG!:
Electric Sex: CDEP
A new band out of Chicago that is bringing back memories of ‘80s new wave with a bass player that sings like Terry Bozzio and music that has elements of early Devo and the Waitresses. Fun and a welcome change from all the death metal and thrash that I have been listening to lately. –don (Morphius)


BAKER STREET IRREGULARS, THE:
Self-titled: CD
Dear Robert Daniel of Savannah, Georgia: I really like the first part of this CD. To me, it sounds like a lower-fi, Southern version of Replacements. The problem, though, is that about halfway through, the CD player starts freaking out and skipping, and I can’t even make it to your version of “Mama Tried.” I realize that it’s just a technological problem and it’s nobody’s fault, but hopefully we can find a way to blame Bradley Williams for whatever went wrong. And I was also wondering if your pseudonym was an Andy Griffith Show reference or just a coincidence. Thanks for listening. –Josh (Official UDC Headquarters)


AT THE SPINE:
First Day of Spring: CD
I think what annoys me most about this record is the plea on the back to support independent music and to avoid copying this record if you can help it. Dudes, you don’t have to worry about that last bit—I like people and wouldn’t want to subject them to this. As to the first point, fuck independent music. Support GOOD music. This is everything but. I had realized over the years that there is simply no end to the things I can’t do in music—I can’t play guitar, bass, drums, flute, saxophone, keyboards, tuba, bassoon… none of that shit. I can’t read or write music. I can’t even whistle in tune. And singing? You’re kidding, right? At any rate, I thought I knew all of that until I heard this and with the exception of a couple of pseudo-solos, I can play every goddamned thing on this disc and do it better because I at least figured out how to play a Ramones song or two on every instrument over the years. I can’t sing, but at least I have the good sense not to try (meaning that, unlike this record, you’ll rarely hear me off-pitch) and to yell in something approximating the same key. This? Fuck this. –scott (Global Seepaj)


A-SIDES, THE:
Hello, Hello: CD
Gentle, lilting pop music which sounds like a throwback to the 1960s. It’s actually a very pleasant surprise of Beach Boys-inflected, Pet Sounds-era sunshine rock (which means that it compares favorably with contemporaries like Beulah, the Pernice Brothers, the Aluminum Group and other chamber-pop specialists). This album strikes me as one that will take some time to grow on me, but don’t be surprised if you hear about it again around the end of the year when I do my “best of” list because it just seems that there’s a little too much here to appreciate in the span of time that most critics (myself included, this time) have to evaluate an album’s merits. Mark it eight, dude. –scott (Prison Jazz)


ARMOR FOR SLEEP:
What to Do When You Are Dead: CD
Back in high school, when I was but a wee maudlin pup who was tormented by unrequited love (love, lust—it was all the same munged-up hormonal nonsense at that point) and spent sleepless nights writing bad poetry, lines like “Thinking back I forgot to tell you this: I didn’t care that you left and abandoned me. What hurts more is I would still die for you” would have completely flipped my lid; sure, it’s treacly nonsense to me now, but back then—when I felt slighted by girls who didn’t call me back and wrote poetry so horrific that I might have been better off cutting myself—this might well have been my album of the year. Before you start hating on my youthful musical taste (or lack thereof), I was also listening to Zen Arcade and 7 Seconds; I was skating to The Misfits, Dead Kennedys, and Black Flag. I was also a sucker for overwrought, maudlin sentimentality and mawkish songs that described the tragedy of love… and honestly, even though I could care less about this concept album about someone who apparently killed himself but, like, totally misses his (ex?) girlfriend, I can at least understand why someone twenty or twenty-five years younger might. If you’re a fan of My Chemical Romance or Coheed and Cambria (and I can’t understand why a fan of those bands would be reading this magazine), you’ll probably shit yourself out of pure excitement over this one. –scott (Equal Vision)


ANTISEEN:
Thee from Parts Unknown: 7”
It’s heavy and simple. Gruff and mean. In other words, it’s a damn Antiseen record. Four blasts of rock’n’roll evilness here. No new ground covered, but that would just be silly anyway. What you see is what you get. Four scary dudes playing four scary tunes. I really liked the female vocal breakdown in the title track. This is the soundtrack to your next backyard wrestling extravaganza! –ty (Scarey)


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