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Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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NOVEMBER'S DOOM:
The Knowing: CD
Heavy metal prom ballads for suicidal Dungeons and Dragons geeks. –jimmy (Dark Symphonies, Box 457, Billerica, MA 01821)


NEW BOMB TURKS:
The Blind Run: purple 10"
This sonically turbulent 10-incher belligerently blazes with all-out rough'n'tumble rock'n'roll crunch! The four sizzle-fried songs cacophonously contained herein are evil, vile, andtumultuously trashy... venomous and snotty razor-slashed vocals; high-tension crank-crazed straight-outta-the-gutter guitar savagery that violently grabs ya by the balls; skull-pummelling rumble'n'roar flesh-scorchin' bass detonations of frenzied low-end audial bite; and speedfreak thundergod boom-boom drumming madness. Hot damn hellfire for sure, the New Bomb Turks aurally rampage with dangerously bad-ass bowery punk sleaziness –Roger Moser Jr. (New Bomb Turks, PO Box; www.newbombturks.com)


NATION OF ULYSSES:
The Embassy Tapes: CD
Noisy, lo-fi, Birthday Party-ish chaos from this long gone DC band. Having never heard them before, I'm in no position to compare this with their other work, but I will say that I think I missed out on a lot back then, 'cause I really liked this a lot. –jimmy (Dischord, 3819 Beecher Street, NW Washington, DC 20007)


NARCOLEPTIC YOUTH/THE VOIDS:
Split 7": EP
NY: A cool musical melding of Sick Pleasure and early Freeze. The lyrics are well written and the songs are catchy as hell. Good stuff. Voids: catchy, female-fronted hardcore that's similar in sound and attack to Spain's Aerobitch. One damn good slab o' vinyl here. –jimmy (Straight Jacket, PO Box PO Box 136, Fullerton, CA 92836-0136)


MORNING SHAKES, THE:
Piss Off Daddy: 7"
This is down'n'dirty wildly demented garagerock rambunctiousness with a turbulent twist of frenzied face-slappin' punkiness that'll assuredly knock ya upside the noggin somethin' fierce! The petulant snottiness of the two enclosed sardonic songs (includin' a catastrophically clamorous cover of The Zero Boys "Civilization's Dying") saturated my ears with highly flammable levels of pure rock'n'roll resonance. I just can't ask for anything more aurally earth-shattering than the smokin' sounds of The Morning Shakes on this here lil' 7-inch sizzler... –Roger Moser Jr. (Get Hip, PO Box 666, Canonsburg, PA 15317; http://www.gethip.com)


MIRAH:
You Think It's Like This But Really It's Like This: CD
I love Mirah. I saw her play two summers back at Olympia's Yo-Yo A Go-Go and after watching her play I jumped up and bought all the merchandise she had to offer (one 12" and one cassette). Now she has released a full length album (16 songs) and I can't keep my ears free from listening to it. It's happy. It's sad. It's fast. It's slow. It's love revealing what's real by scratching away all the skin and pink with its own slightly chipped glitter-coated fingernails. I can picture Mirah opening up her journal to write her latest emotional update and as soon as the pages are cracked, all sorts of crazy cartoon bubble notes and hearts come flying out in between words like in those old "Reading Rainbow" episodes. This is a personal yet confident listen into the broad emotional - as well as musical - spectrum that is Mirah. Mirah has clever usage of vocal harmonies, ukulele, guitar, organ and distorted bass (to name a few from this instrument collage). Mirah's purity and light is like a new star's who has yet to reach eyes from its own place in the sky. –Harmonee (K, Box 7154, Olympia, WA 98507)


MICHELLE GUN ELEPHANT,THEE:
Gear Blues: CD
Just as Guitar Wolf re-interpreted Gene Vincent style cool and MC5 flash in a kitschy, fun way, thee Michelle Gun Elephant, in a strange new twist, crosses the animalistic passion of the Stooges with the rigid NYC composure of the Ramones to produce this furious blend of rockin' sukiyaki. On CD, anyway, this made in Japan quartet howls, writhes and rolls like demon possessed samurai for fourteen tracks and the syntax of the lyrics isn't nearly as bizarre as you might expect. –Bob Cantu (Alive/Total Energy, PO Box 7712, Burbank, CA 91510)


MICHELLE GUN ELEPHANT, THEE:
Gear Blues: CD
Extremely LOUD Japanese trash rock. The press materials allude to Billy Childish as an influence, but I don't hear it as much I do the Cramps and others I can't quite think of right now. Hell, I gotta lay off of them there allergy pills, 'cause they seem to be messin' up my short term.... Whatever. Either way, this is some screamin' mad shit here, all sludgy, dirty and fuckin' loud, man. I think they're singin' in English, but it's damn hard to tell. I'm recommending this disc for two reasons: 1) The songs are mighty nice, and 2) Playin' it at excessive volume levels is sure to kill all rats, insects and small dogs in a square mile radius around the speakers. Oh, wait.... Silly me, I accidentally had the stereo runnin' through my guitar amp. Well, I still like it, even if it ain't as loud as I thought it was. –jimmy (Alive/Total Energy, PO Box 7712, Burbank, CA 91510)


LOUDMOUTHS/ROCKS:
Split 7": EP
Loudmouths: A couple o' helpings of their patented ranting. Rocks: If this were the only band on the disc, they would probably sound pretty decent. Following the Loudmouths was a big mistake, though, 'cause they sound really tame in comparison. –jimmy (702, PO Box 204, Reno, NV 89504)


LOS LOBOS:
El Cancionero Mas y Mas: Boxed Set 4X CD
CDWe all know the story of Los Lobos, don't we? Band from East LA lands an opening slot for Public Image's debut Los Angeles gig at the Olympic Auditorium. Outraged punks pelt band with debris. Band signs with punk label and develops a strong local following that includes many of the same punks who hated them at the aforementioned gig. Band later has a fluke number one hit with a cover from a movie soundtrack and eventually becomes one of the most respected bands on the planet. Well, this four-disc retrospective covers virtually all of Los Lobos' career, starting with tracks from their 1977 "yellow" album (see other review), and snaking its way through assorted albums, early singles, collaborations with other artists and assorted unreleased tracks, making for a total of 86 tunes in all. While some might view CD sets this large as overkill, in the case of Los Lobos it seems to merely scratch the surface. So varied are the band's sounds and styles that it often seems that one is listening to a compilation of many bands rather than just one. For example, on just the first disc in this set, the listener is treated to a musical palette consisting of guajiras, boleros, punk-propelled rockabilly, nortenos, waltzes, blues, country and ballads, to name a few. Over the course of the remaining discs, new sounds are added to the pot: weird hybrids of traditional Mexican rhythms coupled with English lyrics, psychedelia, cumbia Colombiana, swing, soul, art damage, rock'n'roll and beyond. By the end of the ride, it becomes painfully clear why Los Lobos is one of the most respected groups of musicians in music today: they are damn good at what they do. Not only have they consistently produced some of the most exciting music ever to come out of the United States, they have done so over a span of time that has seen literally thousands of lesser bands hit that "Number One" lottery jackpot and quickly fade back into obscurity. They've done it on their own terms to boot, which is more than most of the biggie "punk" bands can say for themselves. Sure, there's some disappointments for the more dedicated fan, such as the glaring omission of their crowd-pleasing renditions of Los Pinguinos del Norte's "Mexico Americano" and Andres Huesca's "Canto a Veracruz," an early single version of "Under the Boardwalk," tracks from the "Si Se Puede" soundtrack, or any of their early '80s collaborations with the legendary Lalo Guerrero. Yet what is included almost makes up for such slights: covers of Fats Domino's "I'm Gonna Be a Wheel Someday," a reworking of Los Aventureros' "Panchita" (titled here as "Los Ojos de Pancha"), Little Richard's "Rip It Up," and demo versions of some of their originals, not to mention Los Super Seven's interpretation of Valerio Longoria's "El Canoero," which nearly surpasses the original in quality. Sure, CD sets this big can be overkill. In this case, though, the band is more than deserving –jimmy (Rhino, 10635 Santa Monica Blvd., LA, CA 90025-4900)


LOS LOBOS:
Just Another Band from East LA: CD
Back before "La Banba," before their Grammy nominations, even before their association with Los Angeles' early '80s punk scene, Los Lobos were following their own muse. While all the bands in the neighborhood were playing Top 40 and bad disco (which were, more often than not, the same thing), Los Lobos delved deep into their parents' record collections, gleaning musical gems from the worlds of the son jarocho, son huasteco, guajira, bolero and plena, to name a few. After playing a few weddings and other such gigs for beer and gas money, they pressed and sold 1,000 copies of this, the "yellow album," in 1977, and since that time, it has become a hot collector's item among the band's more avid followers. Listening to this album so many years after its initial release, it seems almost inevitable that the band would eventually gravitate toward Los Angeles' underground. Although already highly accomplished musicians, there is a very informal, "party" feel to the recording and their approach to the songs themselves seems fueled by much of the same intensity and speed that would give their nortenos that punk edge a few years later. When they take on a jarocho like "Maria Chuchena," they don't merely cover it so much as devour it and spit it back out in a rush of flying fingers at tempos that rival the masters of the form, which, anyone who has heard Lino Chavez or some of the other Veracruzano purveyors of the son jarocho can tell you, is some feat. It is no small favor that Hollywood Records has done. By re-releasing this unassuming little gem, they have not only given us a peek at the genesis of one of America's greatest, most provocative bands, they have also provided another generation of would-be and will-be musicians a new avenue to explore, one that the average American music aficionado has no idea exists. In short, this is essential listening for anyone who claims to have even a passing interest in music. –jimmy (Hollywood)


LAST STAND:
Any Battle Won: CD
Anthemic punk rock with the occasional nod to hardcore and reggae. I really wasn't too enthused with this disc upon first listen. Although it's catchy and some of the hooks are nice, there really isn't any new ground being broken musically. Then I read the lyrics. There's a level of intelligent introspection and a deceptive simplicity to them that makes them easy to understand yet surprisingly deep on a variety of levels. Most effective is the song "Amarillo's Shame," which is about the punk rock kid intentionally run over by a classmate during a fight. While one might feel the band's delivery of the song lacks an appropriate level of anger, the sarcasm, outrage and moral indignation they feel towards those responsible for letting the driver of the car off literally drips from every line of the lyrics. I went back and listened to the whole disc again, lyric sheet in hand, and have come to the conclusion that this is some damn fine work. Sorry it took me so long to notice. –jimmy (One Way, 324 Broadway, Somerville, MA 02145)


LAND OF THE LOOPS:
Puttering About a Small Land: CD
Land of the Loops is an excellent artist's description because that's exactly what it is. I believe he does have a couple of female vocalists, but for the most part, this album is simply layer upon layer of samples and electronic ecstacy. It has enough beats to supply a teenage boy under his covers and rhythms to send your soul a shiver. Nothing too bass heavy. Simply seismic enjoyment of the lava lamp and black light kind. –Harmonee (Up, Box 21328, Seattle, WA 98111)


KOJACK:
Crash Motherfucker: CD
I remember hearing their 7" a while back and not being particularly enthused about it, but this is lots better. They still play noisy-as-hell mid-tempo hardcore reminiscent of the time when mid-tempo didn't mean metal moshing madness, but they seem a little more focused than before. It gave me a nasty headache, and that's always a good sign that what I'm listening to is pretty good. –jimmy (CNP, PO Box 14555, Richmond, VA 23221)


JUDGEMENT:
Just Be...: CDEP
Every time I get a release by this prolific Japanese band I always feel short changed. I'm guessing that this is their fourth release and this one was released on CD. There are only four songs! The two previous releases (and the first, I assume, but I never have seen a copy) was on 7" and only had two songs each. What you do get every time is quality old school Japan-core. The songs are mid-tempo and pack a lot of punch; manic vocals over powerful guitar chords. Under all the rage is a fine line of melody. The songs just have a hook that carries it over the edge and keeps things interesting. Something new in the mix from their previous releases is some background vocals from the female bass player. I don't know her name. I can't read Japanese anymore. Consistent, as always, and brought to you from a label everybody should check out. –don (HG Fact, 105 Nakano Shinbashi-M, 2-7-15 Yayoi-Cho, Nakano, Tokyo164-0013, Japan)


JOHNNY CASH:
American III: Solitary Man: CD
CDIt's a cold dreary rain-drenched day outside the frost-tinted windows of this inner sanctum I call home. And it effortlessly reflects a drab colorless world of bleak black-and-white motionless imagery that seems all-at-once uninspired, semi-detached, fragmented, and none-too-eager to greet any hapless wayward individual wandering the desolate trash-strewn streets of this tired old town on such a miserable winter afternoon. So I restlessly cradle a can of lukewarm beer while intently listening to these solemn spirit-enriching songs of solitude, the sometimes disquieting loneliness of life, and eventual redemptive hope via the proverbial effervescently shining light at the end of salvation's tunnel. "American III: Solitary Man" is an all-acoustic slice of rural Americana, a stark somber soundscape of haunting melodies that indelibly touches a man deep in the furthermost recesses of his soul. It aurally conjures rustic images of simplistic domesticity in a pastoral countryside sprawl, beat-up old run-down pick-up trucks, festive Sunday picnics spent euphorically indulging in the soothing sun-splashed splendor of a gentle Spring breeze, history and heritage and unrelenting pride, native tribal Indian spirits ghost-dancing in the tall sinewy grass of the windswept High Plains region, a burnt-orange sun slowly setting on the barbed wire-ridden rugged terrain of the wild untamed West, and solitary frontiersmen tombstones basking in the ominous snow-speckled shadows of a moonlit winter's night. The sparse instrumentation (acoustic guitars and an occasional accordion, fiddle, piano, and organ) flawlessly complements the swaggering unfaltering voice (haggard, time-worn, and aged to perfection) of Mr. Cash, a picturesque voice as deep and dark as the bottomless depths of a coal mine and as rich and textured as freshly plowed fertile Tennessee soil. As always, his original compositions are pristinely saturated with down-to-earth country charm that's as idealistically inspirational as it is unique and entertaining. And he reverently takes a diverse assortment of songs from a vastly differentiating array of notable composers (Tom Petty, Neil Diamond, Bono, Nick Cave, and others) and skillfully crafts them into his own with an elegant touch of expertly chiselled clarity. Indeed, his inate aural ability to speak to and for the common man (no matter what race, color, or creed) has become his true lasting legacy, an indelible essence forever imprinted in the hearts and minds of those who recognize the message in his music. Ladies and gentlemen, the inimitable legendary Man In Black, Mr. Johnny Cash... –Roger Moser Jr. (American)


IRVING KLAWS, THE:
Pajama Party: CD
The inimitable infectiously evil Irving Klaws have once again defiled my ears with another decadent dose of sleazy sonic sordidness, and I couldn't be happier even if I were inescapably ensconced in a roomful of submissive nubile nymphos in the nude at this very moment (okay, well perhaps, that's a slight exaggeration of truth there on my part, folks!). Anyway, The Irving Klaws can aurally do no wrong when it comes to their hedonistic hellfire blend of raunchabilly rowdiness, garagerock rambunctiousness, and primal wildman rock'n'roll madness... on this musically pristine platter of demonically rockin' revelry, they rule supreme with such maniacal melodies as the punky-spunky "Not Me Not Now," the psychosonic "Wigglin' & Jigglin'," the rompin' boppin' "Put 'Em On," the ghoulishly sinister "Return Of Dr. Spook," the rabid drum-driven "It's Pervasonic!," the spastically devilish "I'm So Ugly," the booby-bouncin' butt-jigglin' "BestForm," the robustly belligerent "Dig My Six," the psychotically spooky "Moon Has Measles" and more, motherfucker, more! Yep, my unsolicited advice for all of you rock'n'roll raunchcats out there: get down'n'dirty, and "do the Klaw"! –Roger Moser Jr. (Get Hip, PO Box 666, Canonsburg, PA 15317; http://www.gethip.com or The Irving Klaws, PO Box 1231, Buffalo, NY 14213-1231; www.irvingklaws.com)


INFLUENTS, THE:
Check Please: CD
Plop pop, fizz fizz, what a piece of shit this is... –jimmy (Adeline, 5337 College Ave. #318, Oakland, CA 94618)


I HATE MYSELF:
Self-titled: CD
Emo CDs make for good skeet shootin'. –jimmy (No Idea, PO Box 14636, Gainesville FL 32604)


HEX, THE:
No Car: CD EP
Minimalist art damage. Gimme a second to put on my Dieter one-piece. Now we dance... –jimmy (Troubleman Unlimited, 16 Willow Street, Bayonne, NJ 07002)


HEADGRENADE:
Self-titled: CD
Gallop-tempo hardcore with a sound circa 1986. Whoever wrote the lyrics is pretty fond of alliteration. Pretty good. –jimmy (702, PO Box 204, Reno, NV 89504)


GODDAMNED DITCHDIGGERS, THE:
Never Mind The Goddamned, Here: CD
The GDDs brazenly belt-out a cacophonous conflagration of rough'n'ready, rude'n'rowdy backwoods punkrock belligerence! Beer-fuelled and whiskey-saturated beyond belief, these demon-spawned rural reprobates immorally epitomize a new jawcrackin' genre of rock'n'roll which is more vile, vulgar, demented, disgusting and rambunctiously primitive than anything else ever recorded... indeed, I'll fittingly call it "hickcore"! On such deviantly divine ditties as "Vengeance of the Damned," "Allez Dupont," "Blow Up Longview," "My Friend Misery," "Rather Stay Home and Fuck," "I Was a Teenage Ditchdigger," "Let's Have a Beer," "Modern Day Frankenstein," "I Wanna Get Drunk/Ditchdiggers" and so many more, the savagely frenzied instrumentation and snotty razor-slashed vocals violently roar like an atomic terroristic attack on the central nervous system (spontaneously causing a person's body to spastically leap around the room, destructively bounce off the walls, and then lifelessly collapse on the floor in a heap of smoldering remains). Ah yes, this is anarchic audial insurrection at its brainbruisin' best! –Roger Moser Jr. ($5 ppd to Ditchdiggin' Recs., 106 Horaney St., Longview, TX 75601; http://www.angelfire.com/tx2/ditchdiggin)


GEHENNA:
Negotium Perambulans In Tenebris: CD
Fast, punishing hardcore rage, reminiscent of long-gone DC greats United Mutation. I can't understand a fuckin' word he's sayin', and the lack of a lyric sheet doesn't help matters much, but he sure sounds pissed about whatever it is he's singin'. This is well worth whatever you pay for it, and I suggest you seek it out. Now. –jimmy (Crawlspace, PO Box 41031, Long Beach, CA 90853)


FEATHERLY DECADENCE:
pre'ego: CD
This CD is so weird. Is it synth? Is it rock? Is it spoken word? Whatever it is, it's a small square of art. It's curious and intriguing. It's one of those CDs where none of the tracks have breaks between them, so they all kind of just string along, each one adding something to the next. If you read the back cover, it sounds like a small story, when in fact it is the song titles. The music itself (stories), vibrations, whatever, is a journey through an obviously complex imagination, supplied by Christopher Deckard (I think. Everything about this little package keeps me guessing). It is a definite experience, but in reference to what, I am unable to define as of now. –Harmonee (Muzak, 3000 Lemp Ave., St. Louis, MO 63118)


FATAL FLYING GUILLOTEENS/SCARED OF CHAKA:
Split 7": EP
FFG: Trashy punk, but not in the '60s sense. It has a certain charm. Scared: Hyped up, lo-fi punk with a smidgen of pop. –jimmy (Dirtnap, PO Box 21249, Seattle, WA 98111)


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