The Abandos The Abandos 8″ (Bruised Tongue)
I get some cool records in the mail, but when this square 8″ lathe-cut by the new ex-FNU Ronnies band showed up at my door, I nearly did the worm back up the stairs to my turntable before immediately throwing it on. In true FNU Ronnies fashion, I went to one Abandos show, and arrived shortly after the doors opened on the flyer. Turns out, they decided to play a good 45 minutes ahead of schedule, and only made it through two songs before a verbal (and quickly physical) altercation broke out between band members. Not seeing them perform made them all the more mythical, and now that I am hearing The Abandos on record, I can say that they’re no FNU Ronnies, but they’re still pretty good. They’re kinda similar, but whatever Chrome-style alien feedback or monster-movie vocals the ‘Ronnies had is completely absent here, allowing for an early wave-o punk sound, like one of those first Devo recordings, maybe a touch of Geza X and a hint of The Randoms. Very simplistic, primitive punk rock tunes with underwater guitar, and for a lathe-cut, I can actually hear all the instruments being played. No idea how many of these exist, it can’t be many, but let’s be honest, no one deserves to own this record more than me anyway. You probably wouldn’t appreciate it like I do!
Actress Ghettoville 3xLP (Ninja Tune)
This may not be my most frequently listened-to album of recent weeks, but it’s certainly the one I’ve thought about most. Actress is just such an interesting, perplexing character, and his music illuminates that – for all the intentional weirdness going on in electronic music, Actress never feels like a put-on, or anything other than true honest strangeness. Historically, I’ve loved his EPs and been lukewarm on his albums (although I eventually fell in love with R.I.P. after a year or so), and this new one is just as expectedly unexpected as anything he’s done before. Gone are the microscopic, frantic bleeps and fast-cut synth disorientation – Ghettoville is a lackadaisical, waterlogged affair, a record that is in no hurry to do anything and will makes its 45 minutes feel like an hour and a half. It feels “chopped n’ screwed”, but not in the way that witch-house attempted; rather, Actress just grinds his beats to a low-battery halt, never fully dying but far from alive, and it leaves me feeling both exhausted and ready for more. It’s a fairly cohesive record, even if I randomly hear mutated Audio Two snippets, James Brown “huh!”s and frozen disco-funk mixed in with the modern tech-ennui of Elgato or Bandshell. While there are plenty of moments where I intentionally distance myself from Ghettoville, it’s a beautifully provocative record that stimulates my brain even when it’s on the shelf.
Bad Vision Bad Vision LP (Every Night Is A Saturday Night / Adagio 830)
If Jay Reatard were still alive today, he probably would’ve had a side project called Bad Vision by now. Sadly, he’s no longer with us, but at least there are other folks moved by his music enough to start such a like-minded band, this one coming from Melbourne. Thankfully, they get a lot of Jay’s moves down well – the tightly down-strummed guitar sounds good, the drumming is rigid and the vocalist has a melodic sneer reminiscent of the Whatever Brains guy, which does the trick. Bad Vision aren’t afraid to veer towards moodier, darker melodies too – I swear there’s a New Order hook hiding in “Shot In The Night”, and it works well when coated in a ’77 punk leopard-print. Mostly, they just end up balancing between speedy punk rock and the more introspective post-punk which historically followed, with results ranging from boring to great. I guess I dig it – it’s not the strongest classic-punk-inspired record I’ve heard lately, but Bad Vision do a fine job at it nonetheless.
Blank Realm Grassed Inn LP (Fire)
After Blank Realm redeemed any of their boring / aimless early records with 2012’s Siltbreeze masterpiece Go Easy, I was backing this group pretty hard. They tapped into a mix of mid-’00s lo-fi weirdness and late ’70s CBGB’s cool, and it really worked! Now on Grassed Inn, after receiving respect and accolades from folks cooler and more important than myself, they’re still sounding pretty great. The main difference I’m picking up is the lack of left-field, oddball recording techniques or noisy interludes – gone are the Psychedelic Horseshit-inspired basement pranks, and the whole thing seems cleaned up a bit, like it just came fresh from the barbershop. I’m still getting heavy Television vibes (“Bell Tower” could be their “Marquee Moon”), but they infuse it with a modern indie-pop melodicism, like they were invited to sit at Veronica Falls’ table after getting a favorable Pitchfork rating and are making the most of it. I would normally say I don’t need another version of “Falling Down The Stairs” (I think it’s the third I’ve heard?), but it sounds great all tidied up and fun, and even when the singer is at his most tunelessly tongue-tied, it still works in the comfortable pop framework of the music, a trick as old as David Byrne. I might’ve liked to see some of that Siltbreeze silt still intact here, but Grassed Inn is a breezy, pleasant record that reminds me that Australia has been having their summer while we are up here freezing and slipping on ice like idiots.
Bloodyminded Within The Walls LP (BloodLust!)
Can never go wrong with a new Bloodyminded album, that’s for sure, so it was a treat to place Within The Walls on my turntable and get blasted into a state of extended discomfort. If you aren’t already familiar, go read the interview I did with them a year or two back, but if you insist on being lazy, allow me to help – they are a Chicago-based power-electronics outfit par excellence. This new one (and their first full-length vinyl LP, I believe!) features more of what we’ve come to expect: long passages of ambient clatter and metal-on-metal scraping, harsh blasts of violated electronic feedback, and most importantly, the guttural, unmistakable vocals of Bloodyminded overlord Mark Solotroff and his friends. Every Bloodyminded record generally abides by a specific theme, be it psychological violence or the phases of the moon, and this one seems to be about the horrors of cramped city living, with the various vermin that scatter through your bedrooms at night and the people who have it even worse than you. Within The Walls is a great statement of this horror, really top-shelf material from a group that will clearly never do any wrong (and at five members/collaborators here, there clearly is plenty of inspiration to go around). Listening to this album is like re-entering your bedroom after the bedbugs were exterminated – you know you’re safe, but you’re still itching your calves instinctively.
Boom Boom Kid Música Sin La Intervención De Cristo LP & 7″ flexi (SPHC)
The SPHC story just keeps getting weirder – as noted in the press sheet for this, Boom Boom Kid’s seventh(?) full-length album, they are one of SPHC’s “top three favorite bands of all time”. I love that this is a hardcore label with its own taste, and their top three isn’t just Infest, Charles Bronson and Gauze or something, but man… this band is kind of awful. They are mostly an emotive, Fat Wreck Chords-style pop-punk band (I’m picking up both Hi-Standard and J Church vibes at times), but they will also throw in various thrash-core tracks with gurgled vocals, or straight-up sound like The Cranberries, no lie. They’ll do a song that sounds like that time Bigwig covered Slayer, and follow it with some seriously limp alt-country – I’m still not making this up! I appreciate how strange they are, and as they are apparently one of Argentina’s longstanding and most respected punk bands, there is clearly a lot of context I am missing out on, having only heard this one record and living thousands of miles away. But still, going on what I do have, this band is like a South American answer to the Runn-A-Mucks, in that they take a dynamic hodge-podge of musical influences and attempt to force them into punk rock with unfortunate (and occasionally unintentionally hilarious) results. While I tip my hat to SPHC sticking to their guns at all costs, I hope that my first encounter with Boom Boom Kid is also my last, unless I eventually end up in Argentina at some big Vans-sponsored festival and get to watch a few thousand kids stage-diving and singing along.
Breakdown Runnin’ Scared LP (540 / Painkiller)
I don’t know about you, but I could sit around staring at NYHC ephemera all day. A stack of yellowed flyers, grainy YouTube footage, third-generation zine reprints, you name it – this stuff is just so fascinating and vibrant and unique, it’s no wonder people are still paying Porcell thousands of dollars for whatever reunion of a reunion he’s scabbed together. On this nicely designed LP, we get Breakdown’s Runnin’ Scared tape and a live on WNYU radio session. I’ve heard some people (umm, I guess one of the guys that released it) rave that this is the definitive NYHC document, and while I certainly wouldn’t go that far, it’s a nice collection of metallic-tinged, proto-tough guy hardcore, taking cues from Cro Mags, Sick Of It All and Crumbsuckers and paving the way for all sorts of bad behavior and poor-intentioned bands to follow in their wake. None of these songs strike me as must-hear; there’s no shocking hardcore gem buried here, but it’s still a great listen, if not just for the tunes but the banter – hearing the band-mates introduced on air, girlfriends shouted out (and then teased), it provides a distinct audio environment that a regular recording session can’t, and it’s a lot of fun to hear. On the long list of great NYHC bands, Breakdown’s metal leads and jumpy rhythms put them somewhere in the middle of the pack for me personally, so take one look at the trolley-tossing skinhead giant on the cover and you’ll be charmed, too.
Connect_icut Crows & Kittiwakes Wheel & Come Again LP (Aagoo / Rev Lab)
Here’s another one of these stuffy, academic-looking Rev Lab records care of Aagoo. I dunno, I can get down with modern-composition drone and what-have-you, but none of this series has particularly grabbed me… maybe it just seems like it’s all trying too hard to be serious, from the design to the music contained within? Maybe it’s just me. Anyway, besides touring with Flo Rida, Connect_icut put out this album, and it’s alright. I’m hearing some serious Fennesz vibes in the opening tracks, due mostly to the same sort of bubbly electric water sounds that Fennesz uses to beautiful effect. Whereas Fennesz runs through a meadow, though, Connect_icut often adheres to some sort of structure, be it a naturally-occurring loop or some other rhythmic device, and it’s quite pleasant, if not something I’ve never heard before. The rest of the album plays out similarly, some tracks relying on stardust and cosmic drift, and others firmly planted on terra forma, even if it’s alien terrain, with various glitch techniques applied throughout. Not bad music for zoning out, but I guess my dishwasher could provide a similar result if I paid close enough attention. Why buy an LP when you can just listen to your CPU’s fan whirr along for free?
Die Schacht Halber Selbstbetrug 7″ (Siltbreeze)
Noisy DIY German post-punk group doing a 7″ for the Siltbreeze label – is there any conceivable scenario where this could turn out bad? It’s one of those perfect Earth-based combinations, like sex and power or chocolate and peanut butter, and well, no shocks here, this Die Schacht 7″ is quite cool indeed. The a-side sounds like Der TPK covering the Beastie Boys’ Pollywog Stew EP, lots of dumbed-down early hardcore riffs played by stinking bass and scratchy guitars with just the looming shadow of actual vocals somewhere deep in the mix, at least until they get blurted out Factums-style toward the end. There’s a Spanish word for this: “perfecto”. Flip it over, and the band sounds drastically different, if not less effective – it was originally described to me by a friend as sounding Permutative Distorsion-esque (you can tell just what kind of jocks I roll with), and while I wouldn’t disagree, there seems to be even less going on – perhaps if the most simplistic, broken-keyboard-and-a-prayer songs by The Door And The Window were recorded for Zick Zack they’d have sounded like this. Let’s hope the Siltbreeze romance lasts longer than Kito Mizukumi Rouber – lock Die Schacht into a four-album contract while you still can, Mr. Woodbe!
Drown Under Sugar Daddy 7″ (Special Award)
Mysterious Australian band, and the first two tracks of this four-song EP both have the word “daddy” in the title. If they’re going for creepy, they hit the bullseye! For as lousy as the record looks, and intentionally sounds, I was charmed enough to do a little research, and it turns out I was onto something – this group features Jack from Circle Pit on vocals, backed up by various dodgy characters from Whores, Housewives and Ghastly Spats. They’re going for a homeless-chic, dirtbag drug-rock vibe, kinda like Fang with all the sweaty masculinity medically removed, or a Birthday Party that never got famous, just sick and deceased. None of these songs are that special, and I can’t imagine that they took much time to write, but that’s fine with me – Drown Under live off their bad attitude, Appetite For Destruction-era Guns N’ Roses promo-photo posturing and a constant insinuation that they do bad things for drugs (and might actually like it). Drugs and showmanship will always be a part of rock n’ roll for me, and even though these songs chug along on bruised bones and week-long hangovers, I’m putting myself in Drown Under’s corner.
Petar Dundov Sailing Off The Grid 4xLP & CD (Music Man)
Petar Dundov never goes small – here’s his fourth full-length, in a lavish four 12″ (with additional CD) set. It’s not just a glorious waste of money and resources, either – there’s a ton of music on here, with most of these eight tracks coming in around nine or ten minutes. That’s just Dundov’s style – he continues to work with a seemingly limited palette of electronic strings and synth-based percussion, his magic lying in the ways in which they slowly unfold and expand. He’s getting progressively softer and more eloquent, too – while I loved the kinetic power of Escapements, Ideas From The Pond mixed introspective slow-jams with the ’80s cardio-workout cuts, and Sailing Off The Grid takes it even further. The blood-pumping, adulterous tracks of previous albums are replaced with woeful tunes of the morning after, electronic tears dripping onto satin sheets as the movie script shifts from Cinemax to Lifetime. It takes more than twenty minutes before the pulse is raised to a slight jog, and after that track (the aptly titled “Moving”) wraps up, it’s the eight sad minutes of “Spheres” that bring you down to a morose afternoon in bed. It all still sounds really nice, I just miss Dundov’s simpler, faster tracks, mostly because no one writes them like he does (check out “Ideas From The Pond” off the album of the same name and see if you don’t instinctively start pumping barbells). I suppose even the fiercest Olympic athletes need an evening on the couch every once in a while too.
Egyptrixx A/B Til Infinity LP (Night Slugs)
I feel like I’m still discovering strange new moments in Egyptrixx’s debut album Bible Eyes; it’s just one of those records that is full of left turns and bizarre ideas, but never to the point of irritation. So then here comes the follow-up, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t great, too! Unlike Bible Eyes, A/B Til Infinity has a sleeker, more streamlined approach to the album format. It’s still full of unusual sounds and curious tweaks, but it all feels like it comes from the same place, rather than a collection of various ideas. I like either approach, so long as the output is good, and A/B really nails it – both the dance and non-dance tracks feel possessed, like you’re trying to outrun a demon on a futuristic Japanese motorcycle in the rain. Sounds of police sirens and freezing rain pop up frequently, sort of tying the whole thing together. I like Terminator-inspired techno, but this feels more in tune with sci-fi ideas of the 2010s as opposed to the ’90s – it’s like one of those Need For Speed video games come to life inside a Philip K. Dick novel. Not very far from Jam City, musically-speaking, but Egyptrixx is far easier to digest, and there are some serious bangers here (“Alta Civilization” and “Water” in particular) that could wake up even the most business-casual of gatherings. If you want to hear just how refined, creative and cool modern techno can be (without all the industrial greyscale misery), Egyptrixx provides a simple solution!
Gary Wrong Group / Wizzard Sleeve split 7″ (Jeth-Row / Pelican Pow Wow)
If I learned one thing from my interview with Gary Wrong, it’s that the band formed from the ashes (or semi-mutated corpse) of Wizzard Sleeve, sometimes playing the same songs and sharing band members. I dig splits that work like this, and I really dig splits that sound like this! The Gary Wrong Group tune is “Dream Smasher”, and it’s perfect slow-mo horror-punk – if Flipper just sat around watching Alfred Hitchcock movies on Halloween, they probably would’ve jammed a track like this, at least until they scared themselves to sleep. I believe Gary Wrong Group will be releasing a new version of this song in an upcoming 12″, and for good reason – it’s really one of the best things they’ve ever done. I am shamefully unfamiliar with Wizzard Sleeve, and this track is cut from the same cloth as Gary Wrong Group, that’s for sure – maybe more of a paleolithic ritual violence vibe to the riff here than budget-horror schlock, but it’s another dirge that grooves in the unmistakable Gary Wrong way. This one came out last Halloween, and while it’s certainly worth tracking down, I think it’s safe to just keep your eyes peeled for more Gary Wrong Group – we all need to do our part and buy records like this when they come out so the fine people at Jeth-Row continue to make more of them.
Gentlemen Gentlemen 7″ (Jeth Row / Expensive And Time Consuming Hobby)
I was semi-feeling the Gentlemen 12″ that entered my chamber last month, mostly into the music but decidedly against their vibe and style. As they have exchanged generic BDSM art tropes for random blurry imagery and angrily-scrawled song titles, my enjoyment has grown, although really, the a-side opener “Cholera” is such a nasty banger that I’d raise a fist of appreciation even if the song was called “Creepy Anal Bondage Sex (For Teens)”. The riff sounds like the sturdiest A Frames construction recorded at Mainliner’s studio, and that’s not just enthusiastic hyperbole – it really is that vicious. Flip it over and “Eastern Hate” has a similar feel, just replace “A Frames” with “Discharge” in my previous comparison – strange, but it works! And then they wrap it with “(Follow The) Pink Spider”, which feels like something Clockcleaner would’ve done had they gotten into Gary Numan instead of Neil Young. The singer maintains the exact same yowl through all the songs, which kinda sounds like someone blowing their nose, and while it’s not my favorite vocal approach, it doesn’t really detract from the solid trio of tunes offered here. Hoping Gentlemen’s winning streak has only just begun!
Glow God House Of Distractions LP (Play Pinball)
Sure, Chad Channing was recently denied entry to the Rock N’ Roll Hall of Fame, but not everyone’s forgotten about the guy – like Glow God, for example. They’re mining the early days of Nirvana on House Of Distractions, as well as the rest of the first-wave of grunge (thinking more Sub Pop than C/Z). They’re pretty good at it, too – they go from barnstorming ragers to noisy janglers with ease, switching from Tad to Dinosaur Jr. without having to re-tune their guitars. I guess there are a bunch of kids really digging this sort of DIY grunge-punk revival, and while Glow God sound better to me than most of the Dope-Guns-N’-Fucking In The Streets comps I’ll occasionally spin, I’d allow you to make the argument that they are closer to Milk Music covering Silverchair than a punked-out Bleach. It’s really just splitting hairs though, so rather than try to figure out if Glow God are suited for the buzz-bin cut-out section or if they’re the righteous offspring of The Meat Puppets and Soundgarden, I’ll continue to just crank this one up and pretend my hair is long enough that it gets in my face when I headbang along. I bet Mark Arm would dig Glow God, and that’s really all that counts in 2014. He’s one of the few who haven’t gotten lamer with age, I’ll tell you that.
Gravel Samwidge Medicinal Requirements LP (Swashbuckling Hobo)
I know what you’re thinking… that spelling of “sandwich”. Unforgivable. It’s the sort of word the eyes can’t un-see, and seeing as this is a Swashbuckling Hobo band, I wanted this record out of my house faster than a bedbugged mattress. Still, duty called, and I threw it on, only to be surprised at the sounds of an Australian noise-rock band that just utterly kicks ass. How is this possible? Seriously, for all the noisy garage-punk spew that comes in from the land down under, so much of it enters this interchangeable purgatory in my head, so many bands with the same okay ideas and musical acumen. So then here comes Gravel Samwidge (ugh), just plodding along like they were raised in that horrible meat-locker where that one Lubricated Goat music video was filmed. They somehow split Flipper’s nihilistic, acid-tasting strut with the crotchety old-guy restraint of Shellac, and it’s probably the best out-of-nowhere noise-rock record I’ve heard from Australia since that Psy Ants album. Seriously, Medicinal Requirements is that good! Still, I’d rather legally change my name to King Dude than openly admit to any friends that I possess a record by a band of this name. I’m gonna take some black electrical tape to the cover and allow this newly unnamed band to knock me out over and over again, guilt-free.
Heisenberg Ripatti 02 12″ (Ripatti)
If I’m gonna give a pass to anyone for having a Breaking Bad obsession to the point of annoyance, it’s gonna be the upstanding Euro techno duo of Max Loderbauer and Sasu Ripatti (Luomo, Vladislav Delay, etc.). I can’t imagine what it’s like to watch the tale of a nerdy American chemistry teacher becoming a meth boss through the eyes of some Finnish minimalist dance guy, but I’m glad it inspired this set of wonky, kitchen-sink techno tracks. “#12” is the a-side track, and it stumbles around the room, knocking over anything breakable before finally settling into a nimble little groove. It kind of feels like a basic tech-house cut with multiple Pop Ambient compilations being blasted and mixed simultaneously, which is an oddly comfortable feeling. “#19″ is my favorite, though – this track has an unstoppable pace, like a locomotive Denzel Washington is trying in vain to stop, and the energy just builds upon itself in ways that only Loderbauer and Ripatti can harness. There’s never any drop, so it’s up to the listener to determine at which very moment your head should explode, watermelon-style all over the floor. There’s an earlier Heisenberg 12” I missed, and a new one coming in a week or two, and just like Breaking Bad, I don’t plan on skipping an episode!
La Misma La Misma 7″ (Toxic State)
In an underground landscape of a million-and-one indistinct punk labels, Toxic State manage to stand out, crafting their own unique voice (and putting out some absolutely killer hardcore-punk in the process). I knew I’d like La Misma before I heard the first note, and that’s not just because their band logo is yin-yang based (although that did help). Whereas most Toxic State groups sound distinctly modern, I could’ve easily been led to believe that La Misma existed over thirty years ago from the sound of their tunes. I’m getting a sort of “Utreg Punx meets Not So Quiet On The Western Front” vibe, or more specifically, Nixe plus No Alternative, which is a great place to be when it comes to regional punk sounds. The singer spits out her words faster than Twista (and frequently erupts into tribal war-whoops, for good measure), and the band rages on like their guitars can truly end the Cold War if they’re played with enough anger. Honestly, what fan of punk rock could find any fault at all with La Misma? These songs are simple, raging and direct enough that apathetic crusties, cubicle-dwelling record collectors, zine-printing activists and poseur mall-punks could all finally unite.
Libyans Expired Language LP (Sorry State)
Sorry State is one of the largest producers of quality hardcore-punk today – Prank and Sound Pollution held down this thankless, tiring role in the ’90s, and Sorry State (and Grave Mistake) have seemed to take over for the past decade or so, pumping this stuff out with ease. I’m so glad these labels are around, being the workhorses that carry the scene in so many ways, and I’ve accepted the fact that not every album is gonna grab me – like this Libyans record, for instance. There’s nothing wrong with it – they’re a fast (but not too fast) hardcore-punk group that falls closer to The Wipers than Tragedy in the grand scheme of buttons on their coats. It’s cool, but in the end, nothing about this record stands out to me – maybe it’s their unvaried approach, the average vocals, or the lack of hooky moments, but Expired Language comes across like a perfectly acceptable hardcore-punk record I never need to hear again. It’s inevitable for any punk label, and who knows, maybe I’ll hear it on accident in five years and fall madly in love (it happened to me before with Enewetak!). Although I’m pretty sure I won’t.
Liquor Store In The Garden LP (Almost Ready)
Just looking at the ugly mugs of the Liquor Store bunch on the back cover, semi-smiling, half-drunk, fully high and ready to get loose, I have to wonder – who could hate these guys? One look at this gang and you just wanna split a pizza and shoot off some fireworks out back near the dumpsters with them. Musically, I am pretty sure I’ve heard a record or two of theirs (although I missed the double LP) and I’ve definitely seen a bouncy, sweaty live set before, so I was a little surprised at the lack of numbskull garage-punk on In The Garden. Maybe I just haven’t been paying close attention (I haven’t), but Liquor Store are a full on powerhouse glam-rock band now, applying the suburban majesty of Cheap Trick to The Rolling Stones’ undeniability, sprinkled with a light sheen of Bowie-brand spacedust. These songs are all pretty long, and seem to mostly consist of choruses and the ways in which you can epically ride one out, with plenty of bar-room piano and guitars soloing in all directions. Nothing new in these riffs, that’s for sure, but the care-free, narcotic-positive attitude Liquor Store provide makes the whole thing way too much fun to turn away at the door. They’re the under-30 party-rock yin to Endless Boogie’s grumbly grey-haired BBQ yang, and it makes me feel bad for all those kids stuck in Omaha and Phoenix that have never experienced the pleasure that is Northern New Jersey.
Lorna Dune Miamisphere 12″ (Lo-Bit Landscapes)
First, Lorna Dune was romantic British lit, then a shortbread cookie, and now a techno producer. Quite a résumé! When it comes to Lo-Bit Landscapes, I’m usually ready for some sort of diary-clutching emo-house or transcendent instrumental hip-hop, something at the pop-fringe of electronic dance music, so I was surprised (and a little relieved) to hear Miamisphere, as Lorna Dune plays it pretty straight. “Plasmodium” and “Agnes Day” both have a serious Petar Dundov feel, due to their sparkling and regal arpeggios, although “Plasmodium” comes with some more interesting bass-play underneath, recalling Melchior Productions or Audion at his most playful; “Agnes Day” is more of the night-sky twinkler, with a straightforward groove. The title track has a similar airiness to it, the sort of thing you’d expect to hear at a dance night hosted inside a planetarium. It’s not quite as Miami-flavored as I was hoping – I love that city, and I want to feel like I’m inside a posh hotel lobby while listening to an inspired song. The Terreke remix pushes the vibe back up into Brooklyn-via-Detroit, with a very L.I.E.S.-sounding texture, damp-thuds for percussion and a constant swirl of the disembodied original floating about. This must be one of those low-calorie Lorna Dunes, because it tastes good without the guilt!
Mattin Songbook 5 12″ (Disembraining)
I will forever love the Billy Bao 10″, and that first 7″ was a real out-of-nowhere noise-punk explosion, but in recent times I look at new Mattin records with the zest of an airport security checkpoint. I am sure he is cool, but so many of his conceptual records seem like total B.S. to me. (This one is based on the number five, because it’s the fifth edition of his “songbook”, so he worked with five musicians and recorded five songs and it’s limited to 555 copies! – farrrrrrt.) Anyway, I was prepared to waste twenty minutes of my life listening to Mattin crumble a piece of paper with the number five written on it, but this record is actually pretty decent, much to my surprise. I’m reminded of that Tom Smith and Signtings collaboration, only a bit less focused and sillier – maybe if Tom Smith and Sightings recorded for a 7″ compilation on Stomachache Records, it would’ve come out identical to this. Maybe a little Fat Worm Of Error or Guerilla Toss vibe here too, or any post-millenium no-wave group that were more influenced by The Residents than Lightning Bolt. It’s annoying music in a highly entertaining way, and it certainly appeals to my taste, even in light of my eagerness to dismiss it. Could be a fluke, but I’m going to hold the optimistic belief that Mattin has gotten bored with his recent style and is once again entering the realm of the listenable.
The Monkey Power Trio Misreattached 7″ (Pocahontas Swamp Machine Recordings)
Here’s the deal with The Monkey Power Trio, as summed up on the back of Misreattached – these guys get together one day every year to play music and record it. This 7″ is from their 2010 session, which was their 16th year (and technically, day) of existence. It’s the second one they’ve sent me, and I dunno, it’s an interesting enough concept, and they clearly aren’t looking to land any publishing deals or radio syncs, so I appreciate their sheer enjoyment of just playing music with friends. This one opens with a funky and ultimately pointless strut (“Panty Groove”), and is followed by a sad cartoon dirge (“Holes”), with two dorky, Sockeye-esque hard-rockers (“Dilapidated Laundry” and “Downtown Woman”) wrapping up the b-side (and actually listed in reverse order as they play out on the vinyl – yes, I somehow noticed that). I celebrate The Monkey Power Trio’s intentions, and am kind of glad I’ve been allowed a couple glimpses into their dingy rec room, but I am kind of at a loss as to why this was pressed on vinyl – surely there are cheaper and easier ways this group could pointlessly destroy the environment than to send their songs to a factory to be pressed into plastic? Just empty a can of hairspray while starting a garbage bonfire in the backyard! Can’t you just burn a couple CD-rs for your immediate family and call it a day? One of these guys must have a real job and too much money on his hands, and well, I guess so long as he’s gainfully employed, these Monkey Power Trio singles may keep piling up all over our poor planet.
The Night Terrors Back To Zero 2xLP (Homeless)
The Night Terrors are not particularly terrifying at all, unless you have an intense phobia of electronically synthesized music. They’re an instrumental Australian group, operating within Goblin’s universe to pump out some decent-if-unremarkable electro-prog jams. There’s a drummer and bassist, and they act as an anchor to the keyboardist and theremin player, who clearly want to blast off into the deep space their instruments desire. My favorite tracks are when the drums are less hurried – there’s one where they are playing this big Led Zeppelin beat for a second, and it all feels so right, but generally the group locks into various brainy time signatures, bass and drums psychically melded, while the keyboard chuffs along and the theremin daintly pirouettes over top. The theremin player is really something else, really coaxing some beautiful solos out of that thing, even though I have never been a huge fan of the instrument (not unless it’s Jon Spencer in leather pants abusing one). They’re a talented band, but a very “standard” feeling one, like they are the perfect inoffensive, vaguely-psychedelic group to get on stage before Zombi or Death From Above 1979 or Goblin light it up. Maybe if they were a hometown hero of mine, I’d get into Back To Zero a bit more, but for now it’s like watching someone go five under par on a major golf course – sure, it’s a commendable achievement, but who cares?
1994! Fuck It LP (Square Of Opposition)
Never heard 1994! before, because I was too busy living it, man! Square Of Opposition is never short on emo-core one or two generations younger than myself, this duo included. If 1994! had longer and funnier song titles and a more jumbled collage-style art design, Level Plane would’ve released this as a Neil Perry split back in 2002. The recording is bad enough! (They recorded it on an iPhone and a “cheap vocal mic”, but honestly it still sounds better than any given Usurp Synapse record. It was almost an impressive feat, how awful those records sounded.) Joshing around aside, this band is pretty good, with both the drums and guitar going wild with pattern changes and rhythmic hiccups. I’m not a fan of rock duos as a general rule, but they manage to fill up the air with sound nicely, and I swear, the guitarist gets downright Bill Orcutt-ian at times. They’re like a Lightning Bolt for the handmade-zine-about-my-feelings set, a band that always plays on the floor (and sleeps on it afterward) and stirs up a chaotic pit of nerds in the process. If that’s your thing, you probably are already all about 1994!, and I’m happy to join you, if just for a brief moment or two.
Octagrape Red UFO LP (Thing Thing Thing)
My biggest complaint with Octagrape was that they went by “Octa#grape”, but they seem to have dropped the unnecessary hash-tag – it must be a nice, freeing feeling! Now that that’s out of the way, I can spend a little time with Red UFO, and it’s a pretty nice, standard indie-rock LP, one where the word “indie” is a positive attribute used toward bands who purposely avoid the corporate music industry… the ’90s definition of the word, basically. Most of this record sounds to me like some mid-point between the potent guitar upswing of Roomrunner, the buzzy pop of early Wavves and the general feel that Octagrape would’ve ended up on a Sub Pop or Matador singles series release had they existed twenty years earlier. Octagrape manage to mix it up a bit here, so while the generic sonic palate remains the same (it’s all fairly lo-fi, with a constant cymbal-hiss permeating throughout), there are dumbed-down riff-rockers, weary ballads and quirkly little ditties, all jumbled together. It’s not really my thing, just by the very nature of the style of music at hand, but Octagrape kept me entertained long enough that I made it through the album on more than one occasion, and my demeanor never soured. They dropped the pound sign, maybe you could drop the $12 or whatever on this LP if it sounds like your sort of thing?
Oily Boys Majesty 7″ (Disinfect)
If this Oily Boys EP didn’t come from an Easter Bilby mailer, I would’ve sworn that this is the latest band to feature guys from Warthog, Creem, Dawn Of Humans and Goosebumps, fresh from the Katorga Works or Toxic State presses. Check it: Oily Boys sound like early Warzone or Sick Of It All if they had an intense serial killer fetish (pretty much every song is about dead bodies and the things the singer did to them), with a slightly raw recording, the vocals running through some sort of subtle effect and at least a little flange on the guitar. Imagine the Together compilation sung by Nikki Sikki and recorded on a boombox and you’re pretty close to what Majesty is all about – just substitute tortured screams for youth-crew jumps. I enjoy their band name, and songs like “Suffer Beach” are winners no matter how you aesthetically slice it, but I can’t help but feel like Oily Boys fit too easily into the parameter’s of today’s highly-specific underground hardcore sound to really stand out. Maybe they’re the only band doing this in Australia, in which case they should be commended (every scene needs at least one band like this); I’m just not sure I’ll remember to pull out this 7″ all that often.
Personnel Personnel 7″ (Doubledotdash)
More cool-as-hell post-punk (with emphasis on punk) from the London underground here, this one featuring at least one Good Throbber and probably someone who is at the very least mates with someone in the Pheromoans. Personnel offer four tracks here, and they’re all pretty sweet – at times, I’m thinking of some sort of time portal where the late ’70s UK DIY scene was infiltrated by the Cupid Car Club EP, and at others, I’m thinking of The UV Race, just with half as many band members and all in black sunglasses. Or perhaps quite simply, if the Thin Yoghurts were organically-farmed and filled with pomegranate seeds. Definitely a cool single, and the fact that the sleeve is some big flimsy piece of office paper that’s stapled to the dust sleeve only adds to the classic charm here. All four songs sound great, “Hysteria” being my personal favorite (it’s got a serious dose of unintentional Eddy Current flair), and it’s a single I am proud to both display and sit and listen to. It’s getting harder and harder to not be jealous of a city where bands popping up like this is becoming commonplace.
St. Julien St. Julien 12″ (Apron)
Whoa boy, electronic single of the month right here! St. Julien is another alias of the guy who guys by Funkieven, and I much prefer him in this outfit – it’s sleeker, stranger and more unique. Opener “Jupiter” is what hooked me in first – it’s a very simple little riff, like something Joy Orbison and Boddika would’ve collaboratively produced on those Sunklown 12″s, but it twists and turns rather than builds. It’s like R2D2 slowly creeping onto a Daft Punk dancefloor, but just as the confetti is about to explode, the track ends. Bravo! “St. Julien” is next, with a cascade of hi-hat tics and blown-speaker bass, not unlike something I’d expect from Torn Hawk or one of the other left-field L.I.E.S. guys. It has a mutant New Order vibe that I can’t shake, which of course is awfully nice. Flip it over for the elongated “Lazor”, which somehow fuses the wise-guy acid-squirts of Mr. Oizo with the greyscale art-museum claustrophobia of Actress, and just extends the whole thing like Gumby’s midsection, extra-long and deformed. All of St. Julien’s ideas are simple ones, and he teases and tickles and twists them nearly to exhaustion, but here I am, desperately wanting more.
Seasick Eschaton LP (To Live A Lie)
New Jersey is probably responsible for more embarrassing hardcore music that I honestly enjoy than any other state. I came up on this stuff, and while I cannot explain to you why Ensign or Bound are in any way musically valid, I hold some of their records dear to my heart. And then comes a band like Seasick, also from Jersey, who actually nail the modern-day hardcore thing. Heavy, barked vocals, false breakdowns and near-grind speeds, feedback intros (and outros), it’s all here. I’d probably put Seasick in the Iron Lung Records school of modern-hardcore (somewhere between Walls, Slices and Hatred Surge), as their music is a noisy, early-screamo-infected take on modern fast hardcore. Eschaton could easily slip into the discographies of Deep Six, Youth Attack, Level Plane or Painkiller, kind of just grinding that all up into a very contemporary fury. Perhaps this is why Seasick don’t necessarily stand out to my ears, because they sound like so many different things, all kind of at once, but it’s still a nice sound indeed. They are apparently no longer a band, so while this is a nice document, I’m personally more curious to hear whatever these folks are up to now.
Skaters Manhattan LP (Warner Bros.)
So last year, I ended up at a show where Skaters were playing, and I was all excited and confused to learn that the ’00s psych-drone duo were back together. You can imagine my shock and disgust to find out that it was actually some new major-label pop-punk band using the name instead! I wanted to hate them, and I really tried, but honestly, these guys had some hits, and I found myself tapping along. Now they’ve got an album, almost sure to be lost in the “indie band on a major” shuffle, and it’s kinda great too. They unabashedly rip off The Strokes, let’s get that out of the way – from the vocalist’s subtle Lou Reed syllabic drawl to the Albert Hammond guitar-leads, this band clearly has studied The Strokes from their disheveled hair down to their tattered Chuck Taylors. It might be too much for some to take, but “Miss Teen Massachusetts” and “To Be Young In NYC” are clearly pop-rock hits, scrubbed down with that hissy, trebly Wavves-style recording that is so popular with today’s youth (for some reason I have yet to understand). I understand if this review is coming across negative, I just want to acknowledge the many valid reasons to dislike this band, but I find the music of Skaters to be perfectly-delivered “indie” radio rock, big on open-arm vocal hooks and Strokes-ian ennui, like you left your $400 leather jacket in the cab and don’t care because your model-girlfriend’s manager also represents Opening Ceremony and can just get you a new one. I was looking for some indignantly privileged, undeniably catchy guitar pop and I found it in Manhattan.
S.O.A 12/29/80 First Demo 7″ (Dischord)
Dischord’s recent interest in opening their classic hardcore archives is a welcome one, as bands like Void, Faith and S.O.A are the ones that myths and dreams are made of. I’ll admit, while I am psyched that they gave the S.O.A demo the reissue treatment, I’ve had this one in bootleg 7″ format for a while now (some shady punk booted the S.O.A and Youth Brigade demos probably twenty years ago at this point), but if you are a fan of little Henry Garfield and his rag-tag band of misfits, you might as well take this one home with you. For me, it was cool to see some new photographs from the S.O.A era, and the sound quality of this release certainly surpasses my years-old bootleg. I also appreciate that the liner-note band history seems to freeze in 1983 or so, providing an historical update that has long since been rendered obsolete. I know all these songs by heart, so it’s impossible to provide any sort of impartial critical analysis – either you wanna scream along to “I Hate The Kids” for the rest of your life upon hearing it or you don’t, and I am certainly in the former camp. Are you crazy, Wendel?
The Stickmen Man Made Stars LP (Homeless)
From the promo sheet to the inner sleeve to the sticker on the cover, Homeless Records is doing all they can to convince us that The Stickmen were incredibly important. I appreciate their enthusiasm, but man… are we listening to the same band? I can only fathom how hard it must have been in mid-’90s Tasmania to get your hands on any sort of underground music, and the difficulty and isolation with which The Stickmen existed, but even with that all fresh in my head, nothing about Man Made Stars appeals to me. Even the insanely thick and lavish tip-on jacket is kind of annoying, because it’s somehow like half an inch wider than any other album sleeve I’ve got, poking rudely into the air! Anyway, to my ears, The Stickmen sound like a local-band version of a Fugazi / At The Drive-In / Radiohead mixtape. Lots of moody guitar, cyclical off-beat rhythms, distorted spoken-sung vocals, tension, and just a general run-of-the-mill artiness that doesn’t feel very special to me at all. I don’t want to be a jerk, because I am sure there are people to whom The Stickmen mean a whole lot (and rightfully so – if this was the only “alternative” band I saw growing up, they’d probably be God-like to me), but as someone just stumbling in late to the retrospective awards ceremony, I wish I would’ve just stayed home.
Your Silent Face A Place Where Arms Bend Backwards 12″ (Fiedeltwo)
Come up with an artist name and EP title like these, slap it on a no-nonsense, white-label 12″ and I’m always in for a test spin at the very least. This sort of reductionist, minimal product will always appeal to me – it’s like the equivalent of some beautiful Ligne Roset couch sitting by itself in a white concrete room, and as for Your Silent Face in particular, the music lives up to my expectations. “A Place Where Arms Bend Backwards” is almost offensively simple – from the moment you hear the morse-code arpeggio that starts it, you’ve essentially heard the entirety of the track. Your Silent Face messed with its pitch, velocity, distortion and tone throughout, but it comes across so monochromatic and “DJ tool”-oriented that it starts to make sense on its own terms. “Fiedel’s Rework” is on the flip, and it feels very L.I.E.S.-ish (don’t they all these days!), with its unrelenting 4/4 bass thump, frantic hi-hat / wood-block interplay and a basement feel (the original’s hook is given a shock treatment). Cool record for sure, although I would expect the rest of you will rightfully sit this one out, as there’s really nothing particularly execptional. Just two more semi-anonymous sides of brittle, unwavering thunk for the heads.
The Zingers The Zingers LP (Million Dollar)
For all the great punk rock that Australia has been pumping out over the past few years, I haven’t seen any bands take the ’77 caricature-punk route… until now. Yep, these guys dress like they recently raided the closets of The Briefs and The Damned, with a slight outer-space Von Lmo motif for good measure. My tolerance for this sort of camp is limited at this point (somehow it’s 2014, after all), but The Zingers are actually totally great. Musically, it’s definitely classically punk, but after a little while the guitars start to sound more like Arab On Radar than The Dickies, and the vocalist does this highly-affected weasel-sneer that sounds like the guy from The Mentally Ill doing his best Darby Crash inflection, which of course is excellent. As well, there are plenty of spastic, almost no-wave moments that recall Mars, or even more accurately, The Stick Men (the short-lived Philadelphian no-wave group, not the one reviewed above), as there’s some sort of amputated funk thing going on here, too. For all the inoffensive indie-garage bands labels like Bedroom Suck and R.I.P. Society have recently gravitated toward, I am sure that The Zingers are the least cool folks at the party and all, but come on – this is wonderfully irritating punk right here, and it’s where we should all be focusing our attention.
Basic Cable I’m Good To Drive LP (Permanent)
The un-Googleable Basic Cable were apparently a short-lived Chicago band, if I am to believe any of the sarcastically solemn artwork that decorates the album. Anyway, they are one of those modern noise-rock bands that technically aren’t really noisy (but trying to call them “post-punk garage” or something makes even less sense), and they’re alright. The vocalist has a John Sharkey sneer when he’s quiet and a Mark Arm howl when he feels the need to raise his voice, and the band kinda chugs along with the simplicity of Pampers (although not nearly as fast) and the rhythmic swish of Polvo (if I am allowed to compare P bands both young and old). Nothing too crazy here, nothing that really stinks or is incredible, just good music for guys who saw Bad Grandpa in the theater by themselves because all their friends got married and moved to the suburbs. There’s one song on here with a chorus that’s like “I could strangle you / I could fucking strangle you”, and while I’d prefer Screeching Weasel’s “I’m Gonna Strangle You” in a battle of Chicago-centric strangulation-based punk songs, Basic Cable have the whole “bitter guy who wants to laugh at the failings of others” vibe down pat, and it results in a good-if-unremarkable LP. They even manage to make a song with the premise of “everyone is nice” sound vindictive, so cheers to that!
Batillus Concrete (Andy Stott Remix) 12″ (Modern Love)
I like doom metal and I love Andy Stott, but there’s something about the combination of his gritty, post-industrial techno and the audaciousness of metal that worried me – what if it ends up sounding like a Playstation game? Dubstep is already teetering on the edge of self-parody, now almost fully claimed by the Mountain Dew generation, and I dunno, I don’t want to see Andy Stott go out like that. As it turns out, I was silly for worrying, as Stott’s remix of Batillus’s “Concrete” is fantastic. It’s super slow – the beat’s throb is a respite to the asphyxiating silence that sits within the rhythm, with only some sort of scraped bass-frequency to push things forward. The vocals are harsh and frightening, and honestly not too far from the vocals Stott used on “Execution” – it’s pretty wonderful hearing death vocals fit within the frame of evil electronic music without it feeling corny. My only complaint is that the remix is only five minutes long, which feels short, and well, I could probably go for at a few more doom-metal reworks care of Andy Stott, if not an entire album. Oh, and who the hell are Batillus, and how did they get so blessed as to receive the Stott touch? I hope they appreciate how cool this is!
Blood Red See Something Say Something 7″ (Square Of Opposition / Braddock Hit Factory)
If you’ve ever been to Braddock, PA, you’ve probably wondered what there could possibly be to do there – it’s a desolate shell of a small town. Well, the answer is clear – be straight-edge and play in a million different bands with your friends! Blood Red features a dear personal friend of mine named Dave Rosenstraus (currently most prominently in Hounds Of Hate), and this seems like another band he’d do, which of course it is. Fast, maniacal hardcore that is cleanly recorded and filled with unexpected riffs, quick changes and mosh build-ups. I’m reminded of Paint It Black and Trash Talk, although Blood Red seem closer to the DIY basement circuit in both musical approach and intent (they do start off songs with political samples, and the record comes with a hand-assembled lyric booklet, after all). Maybe a touch of Redemption 87 in the vocal department, too? Pretty cool stuff, and it makes me wonder where “hardcore punk” currently ranks on Braddock’s list of gross capital export. It’s gotta be up there, somewhere between Levis modeling and vegetable-oil conversion.
Bone For Want Of Feeling LP (Tenzenmen)
I know what you’re thinking… what of the Thugs-N-Harmony? Wish I knew, as it seems like our bud Bone is stepping out on his own. I’m kidding, of course, but who knows who this group is – there’s no insert, just a list of mysteriously foreboding song titles on the back (I don’t even wanna think what “See The Boy” and “Bath Time” are about). Musically, it’s somewhat interesting – Bone are a rock group with slow songs that seem deliberately, almost insidiously paced, really taking their time to reveal some sort of movement or passage. I’m reminded of Harvey Milk’s slowest material, or perhaps The Psychic Paramount if they had to wear those weighted wristbands that athletes wear to train in (I realize that comparison is a stretch, but bare with me). Maybe a slight Clikatat Ikatowi vibe when the tension comes to a head, too, or perhaps rather one of their lesser peers (The Great Unraveling or Sleeping Body, perhaps?). For Want Of Feeling is a cool record like that, keeping its cards close to its chest and forcing you to call its bluff, even with a solid hand.
Buck Biloxi & The Fucks Buck Biloxi & The Fucks Record LP (Red Lounge / Secret Identity)
Punk bands have utilized a variety of negative qualities over the decades, but Buck Biloxi & The Fucks have broken out into new territory with theirs: pure, unfettered arrogance. They’re like the Rick Martel of punk bands, and if you don’t like it, you can thank them as they kick you in the groin! Their songs are either celebrating their greatness (“I’m A Genius” being my favorite) or bemoaning your worthlessness (“They Should Have Killed You”, “Shut The Fuck Up” and “Shut The Hell Up” all prominent tracks), and I love them for it. Musically, it’s aesthestically similar to the late great Loli & The Chones, but Biloxi and his gang are less brash, and more modest in their classic punk riffing, with only the slightest tinge of garage in their sound. There are no drum fills (and on some songs, it sounds like only the snare is being played), and Biloxi down-picks every riff, resting only when the song is over. They’re really a phenomenal band, not just because the songs are catchy and good, but because of the aforementioned arrogance, essentially begging to be the band you love to hate. Even if it’s not a gag, I find their attitude to be refreshing and hilarious, and I hope Buck Biloxi is nowhere near finished telling the world how great he is.
Cellos Standard And Poor 7″ (Doormat)
So many bands playing heavy, precise “noise”-rock these days… I guess I can’t deny that it’s a fun form of music to play! Cellos are one of these groups, and they are decent. On these three songs, they go from a calculated Metz-style blast to grungier, stonier territory, as well as the usual “heavy Hot Snakes” vibe I so frequently hear. The vocalist has a nicely melodic bark that splits the difference between Phil Anselmo and the guy from Karp (although clearly is less distinctive than either). The whole thing feels pretty standard-issue, but not necessarily in a bad way? It’s like sure, I’ve heard the music of Cellos a thousand times before in many other bands, from the angry screams to the minor-key, drum-heavy breakdowns, but while they are fairly generic, they’re no disappointment either. Sometimes people just want a certain thing, and if you’re a Young Widows fan wishing Neurosis would play the cool bar in town instead of that big expensive club with the annoying security guys, perhaps this Cellos 7″ will keep you occupied for a while.
Concrete Asylum Social Anxiety 7″ (Bad Vibrations)
The music on this Concrete Asylum single is as murky and smudged-up as the cover art. I’m feeling it! They’re a hardcore band who call to mind Iron Lung and early Think I Care the way they pummel their songs into submission, guitars wildly feeding back before someone stops the tape. The songs are based on a series of fast hits, stretches of grind beats and the occasional high-speed d-beat, and the muffled recording adds a layer of grit without subtracting any power. The guitarist clearly wants a moment to show off his Greg Ginn-style leads, but the songs seem to blaze by too fast for an adequate chance. Never heard of this group before, and while there isn’t necessarily anything that is unique to them, all of these songs rage hard enough that I will keep an eye out in the future. And as both sides of this 7″ fly by in record time, they’ve done their duty in leaving me wanting more.
Cuntz Solid Mates LP (Homeless)
There were a few different reasons why I didn’t care for the first Cuntz LP that passed over my turntable, and as much as I wish they’d improved in the interim, they have not. First of all, they do the whole “hard-to-notice swastika on the cover” thing that Clockcleaner did with Nevermind… if you’re going to be a button-pushing noise-rock group, can you at least do something that wasn’t done in the past decade by a similar band? And secondly, none of these songs are particularly great or interesting (or even annoying, which I’d be willing to accept). I’d say Cuntz fall somewhere between the two-note monotony of Lamps and the knuckleheaded jubilance of The UV Race, but they lack the riffs of the former and the charisma of the latter. Instead, they just kinda sound like a less-talented Feedtime who want to seem drunken and outlandish but just come across as lazy and bored instead. I dunno, Solid Mates is far from the worst record in the world, it just seems like a mediocre collage of the various noise-rock (dare I even say “pigfuck”, Lord help me) groups that have come to light in the past ten years, and it almost makes me enjoy other bands in the genre less because of it. Imagine trying to feel psyched on the Misfits after listening to a dozen Misfits-inspired townie bands, you know? That’s mostly why I’m annoyed that I keep hearing Cuntz records.
Demdike Stare Testpressing #004 12″ (Modern Love)
Sure, I could’ve offered a low-income student a full college scholarship with all the money I’ve spent on Demdike Stare records at this point, but what am I supposed to do, stop buying them? Not sure how many “test pressings” Demdike Stare plans on churning out, but I’m committed at this point, and to their credit, Demdike Stare is still pretty great, with this series revealing some delightfully unexpected results. “Fail” is the a-side, and it’s a real slow-boiler, eventually leading into a death-march that hinges upon the sound of a thousand cymbals slowly fluttering louder and louder. If I was making a movie about a Chinese army in the 1400s that battled a man-eating dragon, I’d be calling Demdike’s publisher right about now. “Null Results” starts just as slowly, until an outrageous jungle-break hits, shortly followed by a double-helix acid blast – all it’s missing is the throaty scream of Alec Empire and some evening news samples to transform my black cotton pants into PVC. Not necessarily wall-shattering stuff, but both of these tracks are pretty great, and provide further depth to an already intimidating discography. I just hope for my bank account’s sake they stop with all these expensive little drips and hit us with another tidal wave (in non-bespoke, unlimited edition).
Dollar Bar Paddington Workers Club LP (Mere Noise)
It’s almost as if I’ve rudely interrupted band practice from the look the two sweaty teens on the cover are giving me, trying to get through “Come As You Are” for the tenth time in a row just as I barged in. I had no idea what to expect going into this one, and was pleasantly surprised by the G-rated pop-rock that filled the Paddington Workers Club. Whole lotta Jonathan Richman vibes, sans his unique brand of quirkiness and with a healthy dose of “men’s choir” vocalizing instead. Normally pop music feels like I’m eating dessert, but Dollar Bar are like a plate full of steamed vegetables. They’ve got similar chord progressions to modern boy-next-door troubadours as varied as Mac Demarco and Tony Molina, but Dollar Bar sound like the cover band at your local pub’s wing night trying out a few originals for the disinterested locals. I realize this all probably sounds horrible to you, but there’s something about the squeaky-clean chutzpah of Dollar Bar that has me squarely in their corner.
Downtown Boys Downtown Boys 7″ (Sister Polygon)
In 2013 there were roughly four new bands that blew me away live, and Downtown Boys were one of them – they were like a renegade ball of energy, with at least half a dozen men and women spazzing out in their respective spaces. I was eager to see how that’d translate on record, and this debut 7″ is pretty darn good! They’re kind of unique, too – Downtown Boys remind me of Limp Wrist (in particular, the vocalist’s fiery bark is similar to Martin’s), but with a sizable horn section that has yet to realize they aren’t in a ska band. So you get these spastic, faster-than-appropriate hardcore punk tracks with a couple saxophones bopping along like it’s MU330, and while I realize that the majority of you are probably peeling out of here, it’s a chaotic combination that I find quite appealing. If you’re on the fence, go on and search YouTube for the music video Downtown Boys put out for “Slumlord Sal”, the second of the four tracks here, and see if its mix of sexual freedom and hilarity doesn’t push you over to Sister Polygon’s shop pronto. They almost remind me of punk before it was so codified, when Black Randy would play with The Screamers and The Dils because that’s just what you did, and it’s a refreshing sensation to experience.
Bobby Draino Brain Drain 12″ (100% Silk)
I talk a lot (okay, too much) about the slight differences between Not Not Fun and 100% Silk, but this Bobby Draino 12″ was clearly meant for the 100% Silk label – it might be kinda weird in some ways, but this is indisputably dance music. I dig the name “Bobby Draino”, because it’s just as likely to be a Jersey mobster as a wimpy hipster from anywhere in the world (my best guesses for Bobby Draino – Toronto or Manila). I am fine without ever gazing upon Draino’s visage anyway (he’s probably an MMA fighter who lives down the street from me and I have officially sealed my fate), as he produces a very modern form of faceless techno fun. This single sounds somewhat close to the earliest house-oriented Ital tracks, maybe a little of that Octo Octa album I enjoyed, and with the two “Cloudface Edit” tracks, a touch of the hallucinatory effects Actress and Bandshell frequently employ. I hear some late ’80s new-beat in tracks like “Sean’s Beach” too, and “Blecc” almost feels like an unsophisticated cousin to the mutant techno Untold produces. Very comfortable, humble tech-house, and if it were a touch rougher or meaner, I’d expect L.I.E.S. to be contacting Bobby Draino through his Soundcloud right now, finalizing the details to their 12″ release. It’s probably that extra bit of androgynous sweetness that has helped Draino find the appropriate home on 100% Silk, after all.
Exit Hippies / Lotus Fucker split LP (SPHC)
Kind of a slick move, pairing your own band with the mighty Exit Hippies on a split LP. Can’t say I blame the folks behind both SPHC and Lotus Fucker, though – I am obsessed with Exit Hippies too, and sometimes you do what you gotta do just to get close to their greatness. I’ve already completely pledged my allegiance to Exit Hippies, so their side of this LP could be little more than amplifier feedback and Elmo samples and I’d still give it a thumbs up, but it’s actually legitimately great! Plenty of coarse, grating crust-grind suitable for mid-period Slap A Ham or early 625 Productions mixed with outrageous rave effects (and infected acid techno). It’s trademark Exit Hippies, and I kinda wish it was just a one-sided 12″, untainted with the presence of any mortals, and maybe with a sweet etching on the other side (now this is a band that understands artwork). No band could measure up to that, but Lotus Fucker are fine, at least – they continue to have impassioned spoken-word segments buffering their thrashy, squawky hardcore-punk, taking zero breaks between songs and sounding like a friendlier, sloppier mix of Nine Shocks Terror and White Load at points. Needless to say, I had to own this no matter who else was on it, but Lotus Fucker do not disgrace the gods they are paired with here. If you like deranged stoner-crust rave-core too, I am sure you feel similarly!
Fat History Month / My Dad split 7″ (Broken World Media / Ranch / Exploding In Sound)
Not sure what’s going on with Fat History Month – their side of the cover says “Sad History Month”, so maybe they’re starting to feel kinda sheepish about the name? Anyway, their track is a home-recorded (or so it sounds) nugget of downer indie-sans-rock, like a solo Dan Melchior track without the wit or pop hook, just the experimental collage-style format and a variety of instruments all stuffed next to each other. I guess it’s a cool track! My Dad’s song is called “Tom Waits For No Man”, which is almost so unbearable that I had to really force myself to drop the needle and not a brick, only for the sake of properly doing my job. This band is clearly made up of guys who insist on constantly making jokes and talking over an episode of Law & Order when you are just trying to watch the damn thing – surely you’ve met someone like this, right? Anyway, for some reason they are playing frantic emo-punk that goes from noodly to bombastic and back, all with a vocalist who is more proudly tuneless than the Milk Music guy. No thanks! Weird combo of bands to share a single, but I guess it’s kinda like dating – the remaining weirdos eventually all pair off.
Fishermen Patterns And Paths 2xLP (Skudge White)
The name “Fishermen” will excite no one, no matter what style of music we’re talking about, so let me do my part to excite you about this fantastic new techno group. I’m a cautious fan of the Skudge empire, and saw the Fishermen name getting bandied about with the “industrial techno” tag, so I figured I’d check it out – glad I did, because it’s killer! First, I’d say that this isn’t really industrial techno in the standard Regis / Vatican Shadow / Kerridge sense – Patterns And Paths is a club record, through and through. Which pleases me, as I don’t just always want to scratch my chin to techno, I also want to soak through my shirt in the middle of the night, and Fishermen offer plenty of opportunities for both. I’m reminded of a less ecstatic Planetary Assault Systems, or perhaps a more diverse Rrose, the way Fishermen cook up their meaty-yet-nimble grooves, grabbing from all corners of electronic dance music and setting it firmly in techno’s grid. It’s a diverse enough album that I never drift off, but it’s still consistently pounding and built with the structural integrity of an industrial bunker. If Vatican Shadow leaves you feeling unfulfilled, but you’d like to avoid the lowest-common-denominator blandness of David Guetta, I offer Fishermen as the happy medium.
Gentlemen Sex Tape 12″ (Homeless)
Anyone else completely exhausted by all modern transgressively-sexual noise-rock at this point? Seems like every week there’s some new band photocopying a picture of a guy in a leather mask and calling their tape “Creepy Bachelor” or “Cum Stain Stan” or some other obvious thing. Gentlemen are the newest one of these to cross my path (get it? They call themselves “gentlemen” but they’re really anything but!), and while I am predisposed to put them in the same burning dumpster I left my Francis Harold LP, I guess when I actually listen to it, it’s not so bad. Musically, they play kind of a fast, moody garage style with a good amount of grit on the guitar and a versatile drummer. The vocals are an indiscriminate whine that neither add nor subtract from the experience, and I dunno. Maybe this just hits too close to home or something, but I wish bands like this would just find other gimmicks – I’d rather see Gentlemen dress up like classic Halloween monsters or an ’80s R&B pop group, anything besides this. But maybe if you still think it’s novel that grown men have naughty sexual feelings, and want to dwell on that while listening to some rough n’ wild garage-punk, be my guest. Just wash your hands first.
Household Elaines 12″ (Dull Knife)
Nice to see both Dull Knife and Household are still in the game, as I have feared that both entities might’ve closed operations in the past year or so. Household are working in the same general aesthetic frame they established in Items, and they seem even more comfortable this go around, giving us some of their best songs yet. If you’re not already familiar, they sound like a tight little punk band stripped of all reverb, distortion and volume, which gives the songs this odd feeling of being cuddly and sweet even though they aren’t. The drums are sharp thuds, and the guitar, bass and vocals all exist only in the moment they need to in order for you to hear their sound. Nothing floats out in the atmosphere, everything is direct and bound by gravity, and it’s kind of a unique and awesome way for a band to sound, particularly when considering today’s “let’s turn everything into a ____-gaze” trends. “The Way Things Are” and “Panorama” are my personal favorites, but there are deceptively intricate hooks hiding in these songs (and plenty of plain-view hooks, too), and the fact that the EP is titled Elaines adds a new level of enjoyment, as I can’t help but picture the members of Household all dancing horribly. Hope there’s more Household to come!
Julie Of The Wolves Create / Destroy LP (Noise Pollution)
I can’t help but think that records released on a label called “Noise Pollution” should just be like, tuneless crust-punk and lo-fi harsh noise, so this Julie Of The Wolves LP surprised me with its level of musical talent and melodic tunefulness. They’re giving off some pretty heavy ’90s indie-rock / emo / math-rock vibes, rocking as if The Breeders still hadn’t reformed and the thought of At The Drive-In playing Coachella seemed laughable. They manage to take the structural integrity of math-rock and infuse emo’s warm humanity to it, which is a nice pairing, if not necessarily something I’m gonna tell my neighbors about. They’d go over pretty well with Alarms & Controls in the “modern-day adult people playing thoughtful Dischord-ish post-hardcore” category, although I’m not sure if they’d be worth paying a babysitter to go see perform. Definitely not the band for me, but if you’re old enough where you can no longer relate to today’s youth but young enough that you are aware of what they’re doing to annoy you in the first place, Julie Of The Wolves might give you some fleeting hope for modern rock music.
Kappa Chow Punk As Fuck / Love On Me 7″ (Kiss The Void)
I know it’s some sort of personality defect, but I will forever enjoy bands bragging about how punk they are. Hell, I’m reviewing three such records this month, and while Kappa Chow are clearly the least punk of the three, I’m still pleased to have spent some time with this single. They’re kinda like a mix of Edie Sedgwick and The Mummies, total frat-rock, but the cool frat from whatever ’80s movie is stuck in your VCR. “Punk As Fuck” works as the Kappa Chow entrance theme, pointlessly bragging as it warms up the room. “Love On Me” features an equally obvious riff, the sort of thing that made Alice Cooper and KISS millionaires and still works for punk rock groups today. On second thought, neither of these songs are spectacular, but I love the sleeve’s cartoon art and the songs fit it perfectly, like a slime monster in a Ramones jacket coming to eat Archie and Jughead. You probably don’t need to hear this single, but I’m glad I did!
Ketamines All The Colours Of Your Heart / Turning You On 7″ (Pleasence)
This Ketamines single is the first of their four-volume “singles series”, the second volume I’ve heard, and I dunno, I kinda hope it’s my last. Nothing against Ketamines, I just have yet to connect with their music over the four tracks I’ve heard. Like “All The Colours Of Your Heart”, for starters – to my ears, it’s like a limp, sunshine-y take on The Grateful Dead’s “Shakedown Street”, geared for children’s television programming (local PBS station). “Turning You On” is equally silly fun, but this time I’m reminded of a lo-fi Elf Power with less-distinct vocals and a cutesy vibe that I haven’t sought out since I watched The Fraggles as a five year-old boy. If only Ketamines sounded like Faith No More’s The Real Thing, which was my favorite album when I was seven. At least that way I could make some action figures mosh to it, you know?
Graham Lambkin Abersayne / Attersaye 7″ (Kye)
For a guy with a musical résumé that is chock full of surprises, it’s amazing that we still never know what Graham Lambkin will do next, only that it will be bizarre and confusing and uniquely him. I was prepared for “Abersayne” to be the sound of an asthmatic horse breathing into a paper bag, or the mating calls of a ruffled grouse mixed with John Denver, but he flips the “found-sound collage” script and delivers a sweet, wistful fingerpicked acoustic guitar track, framed only by unusual frequencies of air and his own stifled muttering. “Attersaye” rides a similar sensation, replacing the guitar with a piano. On this one, it sounds like Lambkin and a couple friends (or strangers, or duplicates of himself) are singing along with a touchingly mundane sonata, where it sounds to my Anglican ears like someone is singing the word “piano” over and over. The cover photograph shows Lambkin and a woman casually dining in upstate New York, the white of the river blanking out the detail of their own faces, and it’s a fitting cover shot, as these songs speak to a similarly pleasant and unexplained celebration, presumably of minor triumph.
Lögnhalsmottagningen / Bad Daddies split 7″ (Emotional Response)
Here’s my first time with the tongue-twisting Lögnhalsmottagningen, who I never checked out before. I get that it’s the Slumberland guy doing a hardcore-punk band with a friend, and I still get a little irked when people start hardcore bands in a way that’s like “isn’t it outrageous and funny that we are bothering to play hardcore?”. Even if that’s not the case here, I love hardcore, and hate when indie guys or poseurs or whoever try to moonlight in a hardcore band as a joke, okay? Anyway, I figured they were cool anyway, and their tracks here sound good – it’s pretty fast without being raging, particularly as the singer seems to have as many syllables as the guitar has notes, seemingly racing each other to the finish. Very simple, no-frills punk music that is written with an early-hardcore song structure – imagine a re-shuffling of the riffs on Dischord’s first-year catalog with a nasally guy doing a punk impression of Twista. I liked the Bad Daddies for their crappy, unflashy debut single, and while their talent level and recording quality have both improved here, it hasn’t hindered my enjoyment. The vocalist still sounds righteously pissed, and the band is tighter and more focused, like they’ve accidentally found how to be good while not sacrificing the inherent lousiness of hardcore punk. Cool split, but you might flip past it in the bins as the cover is a generic label sleeve with nary a mention of either band. Then again, who am I kidding – when was the last time you eagerly flipped through the “New Arrival Split Singles” section of a record shop? I swear, it’s a lucky break if a record store carries any new singles these days. Shame on all of us.
Multiple Man Body Double / Surface Roads 7″ (Major Crimes)
Multiple Man are a new Aussie electro-duo, and just when I might’ve been ready to request a moratorium on new electro-duos, these guys remind me why I dig this sort of thing in the first place – it can sound pretty cool. “Body Double” has a thick Belgian New Beat vibe, like the beat could drop to half-speed and turn into a Lords Of Acid remix, but instead the beat turns urgent, and the distorted-four-ways vocals lead me to compare “Body Double” to the earliest, rawest Cold Cave recordings. “Surface Roads” has a similarly EBM vibe, sounding more traditionally awkward and dark than most of their modern-day peers, although it seems like most modern synth-wave / whatever groups are more interested in mining the early ’80s first-wave of post-punk synth than the late ’80s Euro-dance that Multiple Man seem to aspire toward. Nice new-wave guitars on “Surface Roads” too, buried in the mix deep enough that it could just be a sample from a Police or Men At Work record and I wouldn’t be the wiser. Wouldn’t mind hearing more Multiple Man soon, preferably like three hefty songs spread across a deeply-grooved 45 RPM 12″ EP. So many lesser groups are getting a piece of that action, so why not Multiple Man?
Nekromantiker Nekromantiker LP (SPHC / Bong)
From their seemingly endless well of globally-sourced noise-punk, SPHC brings us Nekromantiker’s debut album (with a little help in Europe care of Bong Records). I could go into the specific musical influences, describing which tracks have more of a Confuse-style guitar attack or a Swankys-level of silliness, but really, all you need to know is that there’s a song called “Destroy Nuclear Chaos” on here, and Nekromantiker have previously released a split 7″ with a band called Chaos Destroy. Not a whole lot bouncing around in their heads, which is completely understandable as the television-static guitars and random electronic sound effects (who knows what’s actually going on half the time) are sure to damage a few brain cells in the process. Not as charming as Exit Hippies or any of their lot, but still a solid LP of ear-damaging punk-noise or punk-damaging ear-noise, whichever you prefer.
Nerve City Asleep On The Tracks LP (Sweet Rot)
Pretty sure I heard Nerve City before and wasn’t that into it – maybe a record on Sacred Bones? I went and looked it up, and yep, a 12″ on Sacred Bones that didn’t do much for me (or my ailing memory), but if there’s a noisy punk label I trust, it’s Sweet Rot, even if they did become Canadian. I came to Nerve City with an open mind, and I dunno… if I were having a fit of cardiac arrest and someone put on Asleep On The Tracks in an effort to revive me, you might as well start calling funeral homes for availability. I get the impression that Nerve City started as a one-man strained lo-fi classic lonesome guitar-rock thing, where the mistakes are as important as the right chords being played. Nerve City has clearly improved, and gathered a bassist and drummer in the process, but none of this is really sticking to my ribs. The vocals are fine, the playing doesn’t suck, the songs never get too awful, but I can help but feel like I’m listening to a Sam’s Choice version of Ty Segall dressed as Bob Dylan for Halloween (and no one recognizing the costume). Maybe I just gotta have this guy over my house to fully get it, but until I open that AirBNB I’ve been considering, I can’t come up with a good reason to spin Asleep On The Tracks again.
Pearson Sound Starburst EP 12″ (Hessle Audio)
There was a time back in 2010 when I was shouting the name of Pearson Sound and Ramadanman from upon high, and sometime since, I’ve fallen off the wagon. Or maybe Pearson Sound is to blame – his earliest EPs under this moniker ushered in a crazy new dance sound, and I feel like he has settled into a comfortable spot since then, as peers like Joe and Untold get zanier and zanier. I’ll always trust a Hessle Audio EP though, and this one is a subtle and satisfying affair. “Lola” is pretty chilled out, and dare I say “down tempo” for Pearson Sound, guided by finger-snaps and a feeling that his aircraft is barely coasting over the hills, undetected by radar. It’s followed by a track called “Power Drumsss”, which I guess comes with more powerful drums, but it still feels a bit subdued, with a feeling of slowed momentum that’s a cool studio trick, not a dance-floor explosion. “Starburst” takes over the b-side, and it comes with more of that “J.J. Fad sucked through a black hole” vibe that Pearson Sound has been investigating for a couple years now, as though he’s trying to torture the secrets out of ’80s breakin’ music. If I can forget about how unexcited I’ve been about Pearson Sound for the last year or so, Starburst is a pretty sophisticated and enjoyable slice of a thinking person’s dance music, but I can’t help but remember back to Plsn / Wad and the ways Pearson Sound used to really jolt my system.
Shackleton Freezing Opening Thawing 12″ (Woe To The Septic Heart!)
Okay, so I love Shackleton, but when this new 12″ first came out, I was strongly considering taking a pass – I’ve already got like ten Shackleton records, and the cover art seemed a little less Pushead, a little more Spongebob (or say, reminiscent of the later Flying Luttenbachers albums). I was ready to just willfully deny it’s existence, but then I heard a clip of the title track, and damnit, I instantly got my head back in the game. This EP is tried-and-true Shackleton while still pushing out into a different direction, which is a pretty hard thing for any artist to do, but Shackleton does, and he does it so well. These tracks all utilize wood-based percussion instruments (either real or synthetic, I dare not venture a guess) in intricate, interwoven patterns that subtly shift and swing. I bet if you translated the tablature of these songs and inputted them into a computerized weaving machine, you’d get some beautiful and exotic-looking basket as a result. The title track is really the star of the show, particular as the weird vocal sample locks into place and I become compelled to jam along on the nearest flat, hard surface (not counting my abs). There’s a dearth of low end here, just those rippling waves of melodic percussion, and it makes for one of Shackleton’s most dazzling EPs yet. Love this guy!
Shadowlust Trust In Pain 2xLP (L.I.E.S.)
Trendy as it may be, I have been getting more and more into the L.I.E.S. label lately, and can you blame me? They’ve got a cool thing going on with all their semi-anonymous basement-techno. I was curious then to see this double LP release of Shadowlust, complete with actual cover art and everything, and it’s great too, even if it’s further divorced from the dance-floor that L.I.E.S. allegedly dislikes so much. If anything, it’s kind of how I wanted LA Vampires and Maria Minerva to sound – slow, evil, post-Terminator apocalypse synths that ensure you are forever trapped inside some Resident Evil death grid, with ghostly vocals offering as much warmth and consolation as the head of Medusa. Much of Trust In Pain is little more than two machines beeping their alarms with those eerie vocals walking through the dark, and it’s within this minimal frame that Shadowlust is so effective – the less there is going on, the more I can focus on just how freaky and unsettling it is. “Fluid Distortions” is a good example, as it’s like a C.H.U.D. version of Glass Candy, a disco ball that is cracked and dripping blood. Someone might point out a Suicide or Cabaret Voltaire influence, but it all just sounds like Sarah Connor running for her life an impossible situation to me, which might be why I can’t get enough. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go check to make sure my gun is loaded.
Sneaky Pinks I’m Punk / Puke Pudding 7″ (Almost Ready)
I’m sorry, but any 7″ single that features songs called “I’m Punk” and “Puke Pudding” and comes with a poorly scribbled David Bowie mock-up cover is going to have to commit some serious musical crime for me to not love it. This is just all I ever wanna hear, you know? For the past decade, I’ve been confusing Sneaky Pinks with Shocking Pinks and Shearing Pinx, and this might finally be the chance I distinctly remember Sneaky Pinks by name. “I’m Punk” is a simple, rock n’ roll-y take on minimal punk, like Nobunny without the gimmickry. Somehow, there’s still a lot that one person can do with the word “punk” over and over (and over) again. Good stuff! “Puke Pudding” is a tasty treat too, nothing but guitars and vocals, which kinda sounds like a second-generation-dubbed Sloppy Seconds song with the bass and drums removed, or maybe if The Queers wrote a song for a fake Killed By Death comp released by Rip Off Records in 1996. The hypothetical release I just described probably took more thought than the song “Puke Pudding” itself, and that’s just one of the many reasons why I love this record.
Bil Vermette Katha Visions LP (Permanent)
Now that we’re nearing the end of obscure punk records to reissue, let’s move on to the seemingly endless selection of private-press synth records! I’m being silly, but really, there has gotta be hundreds of these things lurking in dusty cardboard boxes below the record racks, just waiting for someone with a creative ear to rediscover. This one is pretty cool, and I can see why Permanent would invest a small sum of money in re-creating it – first off, the name “Bil” is cool, and secondly, he pretty much does what you’d hope a solo synth guy from 1984 would do. There are plenty of budget-level Vangelis and Klaus Schulze arpeggiated grooves, with many wet-sounding textures and settings on the a-side (and one track even features synthetic seagulls, further cementing the vibe I was picking up). The b-side gets a little more creative, with an ice-cold vocal track that calls to mind both Gary Numan and Tin Man, and even a scorching guitar solo on the last track, starting off deep in early ’80s cheese and ending up somewhere closer to Matthew Bower, if you can believe it. If you’re lamenting the loss of Emeralds and don’t feel like digging in your local record shop’s attic for something like this, Permanent Records is offering an easy solution.
Video (Join The) Hate Wave / Captivity 7″ (Total Punk)
Here we go, a Total Punk single from Austin’s Video, one of the more distinct (and great) modern-day punk bands digging into various classic punk influences, both obscure and poseur-friendly. I loved their LP, lots of catchy hits, and this new 7″ does not disappoint! “(Join The) Hate Wave” is a great sing-along party crasher, a bit moodier than their debut, and dare I say more tuneful (the bassist gets to play more than one string). The vocalist still makes the group though, perfectly snotty and melodic and kind of unique – I could easily pick his sneer out of a prison lineup. “Captivity” is another mid-paced fist pumper, featuring a great nagging guitar lead and a mean-mugging rhythm that makes me want to cut the fingertips off my leather gloves and start vandalizing suburbia. This is some prime-time, top-shelf punk rock here, and it’s great to hear a punk band start off great, take their time with their follow-up and kick ass with that too. If you buy only one Total Punk single this year, you need to get a second job or something, but if you insist, make it Video!
Warthog Exterminate Me 7″ (Katorga Works)
Ever since I saw Warthog kick up an unhealthy level of dust in a West Philly basement a couple summers ago, I’ve been waiting on some vinyl. Not only because I could barely hear a damn thing and had no idea what was going on (or what the vocals sounded like), but because they were ferocious and hilariously winded between songs. This debut is cool! The title track opens it up with a very X-Claim!-style mosh-riff and snarling vocals reminiscent of the shortly lived (and fantastic) Men’s Interest. They follow that with “Rites”, which takes sort of a chugging Impalers-style approach to hardcore-punk and messes up its hair a bit (but don’t worry, there’s still a short guitar solo). More Men’s Interest vibes continue through “Potential”, with a Ginn-like riff sped up to Die Kreuzen speeds, and it quickly tumbles into “Yes, Master”, another quality ripper. No real surprises here, just another band that manages to incorporate the best possible classic American hardcore influences with a new-school touch (echoes of Hoax and Creem, if only in spirit and recording quality, are present), and does so to excellent results. I’m always down for records like this, and as I believe Warthog have at least two more singles slated for the near future (or so I’m told), I won’t be kept waiting long.
The Zoltars Walking Through The Dark LP (CQ)
I never expected to like a band named “The Zoltars”, but their first album was a charming chunk of understated indie-rock nerd-gloom. This new one is cool, too! This sort of thing is never really my personal favorite, just sort of coy and quiet and moody indie-rock that teases you with its hooks, but I really do dig The Zoltars – they just keep it the right amount of simple, and the singer has a memorable voice. The whole thing kinda sounds like doomed romance, as if The American Analog Set got into hard drinking and came out the other side alive but without all the friends they used to know. It’s kinda like a simplistic Modest Mouse with tasteful piano and a vocalist who sounds just enough like that awful old-guy pedophile character from The Family Guy that his voice really sticks out in my brain (that’s an awful and unfair comparison but I just can’t shake it). The lyrics are great too, evoking a sort of sophisticated confusion that I don’t get from many other bands. I bet no one goes to Zoltars shows, and that kinda just makes them that much cooler in my book.
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