Oh to be in the States
I have been a fan of Green Lantern since I was a wee kid and the new film has scared the bejeezus out of me as well as excited me.
Anyway, a trailer for an Entertainment Today:
THE DUDE
Excellent news from Steve Rude. I posted a while ago about him trying to save his house.
He has now posted on Facebook:
Well, it’s nice to know we still have a nice house to live in.
In fact, thanks to this amazing “save the house” fundraiser you contributed to, we were even able to order a few extra art supplies for the Dude. Perhaps the most shocking of all–we may have enough left over to supplement the Sillies Emergency Diaper Fund. Yes, they still have their accidents.
When I saw the bread coming in after Gino made her announcement (this was unbeknownst to the oblivious Dude), I was, and still am, in a mild state of stupefication. The outpouring of generosity was clearly far beyond what Gino and I could’ve asked for. Your contributions poured in from all corners of our planet; the sizeable backstock of comics and Dude related “higher reading paraphernalia” were ordered by the spit-load; and Erik Larson bought his complete Next Nexus 3 issue!
All said, we saved the house.
Perhaps most exciting for the self-minded Dude, Gino has just informed me is that we can now afford to replace my 15 yr-old xerox machine–y’know, the one that broke down and has been gathering dust in my studio for 2 years–with a “refurbished” model. And since this was something that I use every day in every way, it is utterly invaluable to me. Though the Rude Dude experiment is temporarily laid to rest, I march forward with my current gallery-style paintings and the many challenging commissions you fans have requested over the last year, the likes of which one can see on my website and Facebook page. I always like hearing the comments on every newly produced work.
To continue getting back on our feet, the Dude 2011 Commissions Calendar is complete and ready to order, and a new Rude Dude Sketchbook is underway.
In stupefying appreciation,
I remain,
Mr. Humility, the Dude Himself,
I would ht Rich and the bleeders but since he didn't give me that courtesy over the original post, I think nah!
MODERN DAY MOONSHINE BEGINS FREE "BOOTLEGGERS" CLUB FOR FANS
With the release of their new studio album Refuge (Ripple Music) just weeks away, blues/soul/rock trio Modern Day Moonshine announce the launch of their free fan interactive "MDM Bootleggers” Club
Spread across the bands' newly redesigned website and social media, the project allows "MDM Bootleggers" to access a new song every Tuesday. With a catalogue of songs reaching well into the hundreds, the streaming mp3's will range from demos and live performances to previously unreleased studio tracks, and will feature exclusive photos and updates from the band. Fans will be polled each month to choose their favorite tracks, with the winners being compiled into a special edition “Bootlegger Album” that will be available as a download only.
Offered free to all MDM fans, the only “cost” to join is their word of mouth. Operated much like the charity candy display at a gas station cash register, MDM is using the honor system of holding fans accountable to helping spread the word. In return for their efforts, MDM Bootleggers will have access to all new material as well as contests, giveaways and free tickets to upcoming shows.
Commented drummer David Burrows "These tunes need to be heard, and we want the fans to determine a unique album. This is the quickest way to get them out. We're really looking forward to hooking up our fans for helping spread the Modern Day Moonshine name."
Modern Day Moonshine's Refuge will see a November 23rd release through Ripple Music.
www.moderndaymoonshine.com
The Single Life – 7” of Fun - San Diego Scene Circa ’89-’90
In a lot of ways, I look at my youth . . . my days in high school, that is, as a very blessed time. Sure, I went through my various growing pains like any adolescent, but I was fortunate to have a soundtrack to accompany me through some of those tougher times. I was even more fortunate to have that soundtrack come from a home grown place. In the late 80’s/early 90’s, sleepy coast town San Diego was home to a vibrant, eclectic, and passionate group of musicians. It was a time when genre borders were crossed with nary a wandering eye or a second glance. The hardcore kids hung out and poked fun at the metalheads, the metalheads flipped the tables and did the same, the alternative, weird punk guys dropped their acid in the middle of it all, and it was all good. There was a form of camaraderie. Disagreements happened and fists were thrown, but generally speaking, times were good and the musical output from the locals was invigorating, at times, even brilliant. So, I bring to you five singles that made their way through the San Diego scene between 1989 and 1990, and hope to shine a little light on the sounds that had a profound impact on my being.
Fishwife – S/T
Fishwife were, jeez . . . I don’t really know how to describe these guys other than amazing. The music was generally all over the place, bouncing from dissonant noise rock through the realms of alternative rock and into the bombastic lands of muscle flexing metal. This 4-song 7” released through Nemesis Records captures the band weaving its way through all of these genres without sounding unfocused or scattered. Kicking off with one of my all-time favorite tracks, “Chad” is a tune that has always and will forever creep me out a little, all the while getting me to smile as if I’m hiding some personal joke from the rest of the world. Namely, it’s the vocal performance from Ryan Fox that triggers the emotional reaction. Initially, the vocals burst from the speakers as if from deep, dark, psychotically demonic place, completely freaking the listener into thinking that something is wrong with their turntable, but then progressing into a smoother, more narrative croon. Every time I hear this song, I immediately remember the first time I saw this band live and Fox, in a very casual manner, leaped into the air . . . easily four, five feet off the ground . . . shift his body to be completely horizontal and land on the stage with a thundering THUD! Dude never braced himself for impact. Just . . . THUD! By the next line of the song, he was up in front of the mic again and spewing some venomous line of madman poetry as if nothing happened.
Going back now and listening to this stuff, the music is a hundred times cooler than I ever remembered it. I’ll go as far as saying that these guys were ahead of their time. The way that guitarist Gar Wood effortlessly shifts from a heavily distorted tone to clean tone, making those clean tones sound dangerous and then infusing strings of beautiful melody through the ugly portions of the songs . . . listen to “Counter Culture” to hear what I’m raving about. Such a fucking talent! “Blues in b” is the song that calls to my inner (and outer) metal-ness. Heavy guitar riffing that comes straight out of any early thrash bands repertoire and the tongue-in-cheek lyrics have me grinning ear to ear. Probably written more as a joke than anything else, the song still resonates with me in the sense that I don’t take too much too seriously. It’s a fun tune and one that probably got more than a handful of drunken fans throwing their horns in the air. This particular pressing that I have is on blue marble vinyl. Find it. Buy it. Love it.
Pitchfork – Saturn Outhouse
Running in closer circles with the Fishwife pack than many of the others, the post-hardcore sounds of Pitchfork were probably one of the more unique and fresh voices in the San Diego scene from 1986 - 1990. This 3-song disc, also released through Nemesis Records in 1989, was my leaping off point with this particular band. “Thin Ice” is a hopped up, punk-y tune that draws no comparisons to my mind . . . eh, maybe Sonic Youth, but ever so slightly. The guitar lines are understated and filled with a subtle complexity, the rhythm section double times it through the song, and the vocals have a satin-y smoothness to them. What I dig about this track, and what makes it most interesting is how the band break out of the high speed punked out strains and slow the riffs down, making the song a lot more grinding and ominous . . . essentially giving the song deeper dimensions. “Goat” is one of those songs that I always think about when I hear the name Pitchfork. The song is a slower tune than its predecessor and the dynamics that the band throw into it gives it that quality that compels the listener to go back and repeatedly listen to it.
Finally, the B-side “Sinking” wraps elements of the grunge sound that, in 1989 was yet to spew it’s goo across our faces, and the more subdued sounds of the alternative rock movement. Of special note on this track, besides the dynamic performances of all the members, is the guitar work of John Reis. Check out the explosive emotion that he pumps out through his rig! If the name of John Reis sounds familiar, you may know it from his work with San Diego icons, Rocket From The Crypt and Drive Like Jehu . . . both projects which came along after his days with Pitchfork. And also, Pitchfork singer Rick Froberg would later join Reis in the formation of Drive By Jehu. But back to “Sinking,” this is a song that has so much movement, so much sexy sonic tonic running through it that there’s no way to write about it to get you to actually feel what’s going on . . . you have to listen to it to feel it. The emotions run deep, the passion that these guys put into this particular performance is mind numbing, and it’s reason number one to have a copy of this disc. Of further note, as of 2007, John Reis has been working with Gar Wood (Fishwife, Hot Snakes) on a new project. See? I told you these circles ran tight together.
Saturn Outhouse was re-issued on CD (tacked onto the re-issue of Pitchfork’s only LP, Eucalyptus) in 2003.
Forced Down – S/T
Man . . . this one takes me back. I don’t think there was one 7” from the San Diego scene between 1989 and 1990 that had as profound an impact on me as Forced Down’s self titled 4-song single. This band may have been considered hardcore, or post-hardcore, or even progressive hardcore, it really doesn’t matter, this 7” came out and all the hardcore kids had to take a step back with mouths agape. Led by guitarist Mike Downey (singer for local S.D. hardcore band Amenity . . . more on them down the road) and vocalist Robb Bass, Forced Down unleashed a sonic beat down on inequality, social injustice, and societal oppression. Released through Vinyl Communications and Down Side Records, this 7” kicks off with “Nothing,” a song rife with angst and powerful in message. Opening with the interstellar drum work of Joey Piro (Pitchfork . . . again, tight circles) and then dropping down to a classic hardcore beat, the song assails the listener with a wall of distorted guitars and the vocal lines that have engrained themselves into my daily lexicon. When I get frustrated with the dealings of the day, I often belt out lines from this song . . . “I WANT TO WALK! TO FEEL MYSELF AGAIN! GET OUT OF MY WAY, SO I CAN LIVE FREE!” Get the disc . . . you’ll see where I’m coming from.
“Forced Down” opens the second side with waves of feedback and interspersed drum fills and bass notes before the song takes its steady strides. Again, this is one of those songs that’s stuck with me since the song was making daily spins during my youth. As soon as I placed the needle on the record, all of the memories came flooding back and I was flailing around the office reciting the lyrics like I’d had just listened to the song the day before. This track showed a different side to the hardcore mentality at the time. It was much more musical and ambitious than a lot of the stuff that was floating around, it was slower and more thought out, but it wasn’t any less emotional. There’s a great inherent grove to this song, and the band isn’t afraid to ride it out, speed it up, slow it down, and experiment with it. Pressed on a translucent pale green vinyl, this disc is a must for anybody who likes their hardcore Fugazi style.
Helicopter – S/T
Following the Vinyl Communications and Down Side Records stream of thought, we have Helicopter’s only known release. At least, the only recorded material that I’ve ever been able to get my hands on. This 2-song single epitomizes that mindset of crossing musical boundaries and still fitting in. Helicopter was a progressive, jazz-rock trio that showed immense potential and were beyond talented. Stupidly talented. The A side, or in this case, the Down Side, features “Chameleon,” a song that’s highlighted by some high quality and bitchin’ bass work over an understated, chorus laden guitar line. The band then incorporates a great melodic chorus, filled with so much emotion that I inevitably fall back in my chair and contemplate all things good and bad, get a little sad, pick myself up by the boot straps and carry on livin’ again. The song reminds me of The Police, in sound, not so much stylistically, though . . . there is that Police-type jazz-rock thing going on. Let’s put it this way, it’s not a comparison that comes to mind immediately, but more of one that has to be thought about.
“Enow Dictum” makes up the B-side and we get to see a slightly different wrinkle in the bands musical fabric. While “Chameleon” has a sweeter feel to it, “Enow Dictum” has a darker quality . . . a little menace to it. The groove has a bit of reggae flavor and the chorused out guitars apply minimalist textures to the canvas of sound. The dynamic flourishes in this song are awesome . . . the fluttering bass lines acting like a butterfly making its way through my garden, the impassioned vocal attack, the dramatic pauses that help build the tension . . . the whole song comes together perfectly. The only thing lacking on this record is the production value. I’d love to hear this thing re-mixed and re-mastered, but sadly, I don’t think that will ever happen. From my understanding, the bassist passed away due to some illness shortly after the recording of this single. This disc was also pressed on that Down Side Records translucent pale green vinyl, if you can find this gem, do yourself a favor and pick it up.
Sub Society – Ice Man
Finally, and maybe the band most responsible for me getting involved in the San Diego scene is Sub Society. In 1990, they dropped their 4-song 7” Ice Man onto the masses and forever immortalized the songs that catered to my less hardcore, less metal side. These guys played a punk style like that of The Descendents and All, using a ton of melody and lyrical sentiment to power their songs into the hearts of their fans. The first thing that comes to mind on this record is how well the levels are mixed. Every instrument has power to it, but primarily the drums of Didier Suarez are sharp, especially the snare. “Daily Seconds” and “At Last” make up the A-side, both songs flat out rock, but are laced with just enough sugary pop goodness that they never offend the common sensibilities. Stimy’s vocals perfectly convey the emotions of the lyrics, strong and powerful, but just flawed enough to show his vulnerability . . . his human side. Fuck . . . I miss these guys.
The B-side is made up of “Everyday” and “A Lot Less.” “Everyday” opens with a great guitar riff from Chris Valle-Staples, and features some outstanding, out-of-the-box bass work from Joe Garcia. The song weaves and winds, ebbs and flows, constantly shifting energy from front to back, and always rockin’! “A Lot Less” is a song that very easily could have been top whatever due to its uber-catchiness, and truth be told, I think this song has only gotten better over time. It’s a timeless love song steeped in simple sentimentality and played over an instantly memorable melody. The band does a great job of working little dynamic shifts throughout the track, which helps to keep it from being a cliché. No . . . seriously, I fucking miss these guys! I hear this song can’t help but reminisce on those late night’s watching these guys kick out the jams and then chilling at a Roberto’s Taco Shop in the dead of night.
Guys . . . thanks for the memories.
Pope
Dopefight - Buds
Wow, was this CD created especially for me? How can I not love a band called Dopefight and an album called Buds? The cover art is nothing but pictures of giant buds and the back cover displays a small feast of low budget Chinese food. Even if it sounded like Celine Dion singing for Puddle Of Mudd I would have to support them. Luckily that’s not the case.
Dopefight are bunch of creeps from the UK hell bent on making a lot of noise and smoking a lot of pot. From the sounds of it they are successful on both counts. The 12 songs are mainly doomed out instrumental stoner metal. It’s obvious these guys love Black Sabbath and all of the other worshippers of Sabbath like Electric Wizard, Sleep, etc. They do play a little faster than most of those bands so maybe they’re into the Cro-Mags, too. When the vocals do appear their pissed off screams, mainly about wanting more weed
The song titles are great. It’s impossible to resist the joys of “Jock Witch,” “Bogtrotter” and the super angry “Brighton Town Is A Fuckin Whore.” I just wish there was more vocals. The lyrics are very entertaining, even if you have to strain a bit to make them out. Otherwise, the production is top notch. Guitar sound is bulldozing, bass thuds hard in the guts and the drums pulverize.
Support your local Dopefight. Society blows, Buds rocks.
--Woody
Buy here: Dopefight
http://www.myspace.com/fightdopefight
STUDENTS ARE REVOLTING
Dear oh deary me. Stoodents are smashing up Millbank in protest at the education fees.
I have said time and time again that this is not the right way to advance higher education. There are too many students doing too many ridiculous courses. There is never a good reason why 50% of 18 year olds should be going to University except to massage the job figures.
WE need a return to Uni, poly, higher ed colleges and apprenticeships if we are to finally succeed in making a decent future for all.
By chucking people into hairdressing degrees for three years, we are depriving them and the universities.
That is what students should be protesting about, not the fees.
Annihilator - Total Annihilation
“Lieutenant Penfold, do you copy sir?”
“This is Penfold. Did you see anything Sergeant?”
“No sir, it’s as quiet as a tomb out here. I think we’re in the wrong spot.”
“Stow that talk Sergeant! We know that they’re out there. Keep on your toes. They’ll make their presence felt soon enough.”
“Yes sir.”
Outside of my men themselves, two other battlefield monitoring systems were being utilized to ensure that we would not be taken by surprise. Highly sensitive motion and noise detectors were staked out in a line along the border. Also a predator drone circled in orbit high above our position ready to relay real-time visuals at a moments notice. This is our turf, and we’re not giving it up without a fight.
Hold on a second. You’re probably wondering what led to the deployment of troops along a previously peaceful border. Understandable. Exactly one week ago Intelligence discovered a download code included in a disturbingly titled email sent to hundreds, if not thousands, of unsuspecting Americans. The email was ominously titled ‘Your Annihilation is Coming!’ and the included code provided access to a greatest hits package by the Canadian band Annihilator called Total Annihilation. Upon listening to the contents of this music download, our highly trained intelligence specialists immediately understood the havoc these songs would wreak if let loose among this country’s metal loving population. The President was briefed on the situation, the overall alert level was raised to Defcon 2, and my combat team was assembled and airlifted to the most likely combat zone; Washington state (the band calls neighboring Vancouver home).
Annihilator is a thrash metal band. Wait, scratch that. Annihilator is an exceptional thrash metal band. When I first listened to Total Annihilation I was impressed by the variety of songs on offer. While it is true that there were no ballads, indeed nothing even close (and would that really be appropriate for a band named Annihilator?), the song structures were different enough to easily tell the songs apart (something other thrash bands I’ve come across can’t claim). More impressive however was the fact that I found myself fondly humming a couple of the tunes in my head after only two listens. Yes sir, they certainly know how to churn out a memorable little ditty.
The album begins with two songs off of the band’s most recent album. “The Trend” starts things off in the right way with an intricate instrumental introduction complete with ripping guitar solo that leads into the song proper. “Ambush” on the other hand wastes no time before going for the jugular, with the band immediately hitting the hyper speed riffing button. This song reminds of Slayer in all the right ways. Other lightning fast songs such as “Battered”, “Ultra-Motion”, and “Ultraparanoia” that arrive later on in the compilation are guaranteed to give you whiplash with the fantastic guitar dexterity delivering all you can ask for in the notes per minute department.
If pure speed is not your thing however, fear not. Annihilator also has a strong complement of songs that while also fast, don’t rely on that aspect to be memorable. Take “Refresh the Demon” for instance. Someone off the street would be forgiven if they thought they were listening to a lost Primus recording for the first thirty seconds before the thrash element kicks in. “Back to the Palace” punctuates its modern thrash with passages that sound like they belong on a classic NWOBHM album. Plumbing the same vein, “Second to None” at times sounds like an Iron Maiden recording. “The Ritual”, perhaps my overall favorite song here, is built around the strongest groove on the album and features a fantastic sing-along chorus.
Look, I’ll be totally honest. I’ve been listening to a lot of thrash metal recently, some of which quite frankly has been great. Annihilator is the best band of the bunch, hands down. Discovering bands like Annihilator that I was previously unaware of is the best and worst part of being associated with The Ripple Effect. It’s the best in that I have found a new band I can be enthused about. It’s the worst in that I am upset with myself for not knowing about this band till now. Ah, well. Time to order some albums.
0625 hours. The light of dawn is just beginning to disseminate through the rural landscape. Although the arrival of sunlight generally brings some measure of comfort with it, today was different. An increasing sense of dread and paranoia falls over my team to go along with the increased visibility granted by the light. At this point the message we were waiting for comes over the radio. “Team Penfold, be advised. The enemy is advancing on your position. Estimate two minutes to first contact.”
One tense minute passes. Something is very wrong. The predator drone can not detect any incoming heat sources indicating an advancing human enemy. A low din begins to build in the air. My team and I see the tops of trees in the distance being ruffled as if by heavy vehicles brushing them aside while they pass. Still no actual visuals and nothing from the drone feed. The din grows louder. What is happening? Ear-piercing alarms begin going off on each and every detector.
“Lieutenant Penfold, what is this sir? They should be right on top of us!”
Near panic sets in as I realize what is actually happening. “Dear God, it’s riffs. They’re attacking with a wall of riffs!?!? Everybody get down! Cover your ears!”
Unfortunately my orders did not reach everyone in time. Too many good soldiers became Annihilator fans that day. Too many. If you think you can resist the allure of Total Annihilation, point your browser to http://www.earache.com/totalannihilation/ and download the album for free. Good luck citizen.
-- Penfold
Massy Ferguson - Hard Water
When Zevon died the banner slowly fell to the ground. By 2004 not even Browne, the Eagles, Young, the Jayhawks or Ronstadt were producing new country folk rock music. Browne was Running On Empty re-recording his past successes. The Eagles were releasing a Greatest Hits album and vowing never to play live again unless Hell froze over. Young was performing his rock opera Greendale. The Jayhawks had disbanded and Ronstadt was singing traditional jazz with the Nelson Riddle Orchestra.
No one picked up the banner for almost four years. Some came to look at it. A few kicked at it and several even tried to wave it a few times. But, it wasn’t until a group from the Pacific Northwest decided to clean it off and mend it that the country folk electric rock genre truly returned. The band, Massy Ferguson, played with it on their first album Cold Equations. But they proudly hold Zevon’s banner high with the release of their second album Hard Water and the legions of fans should be ready to follow.
Massy Ferguson, named after a tractor company, is comprised of Ethan Anderson, vocals/bass, Adam Monda, guitar/vocals, Tony Mann, keyboards and Dave Goedde, drums. Anderson’s voice has a wonderful folk rock lilt - a cross between the clarity of tone of Zevon and the snarl of John Hiatt. Monda’s background vocals are spot on and his guitar work is melodic and inspired. Mann knows when the keyboards should shine in, and when they should accent, the music. Goedde’s drums are rock steady.
Hard Water was completed in tragedy. Two days after the band heard the first mix for the album Mann’s 14-year-old son lost his life to a sudden and deadly form of meningitis. The pain and devastation felt by the band carries through in the production values and adds a tragic, emotional and hopeful feel to the final edits.
The album features rockers, ballads, observations and cautionary tales. Just like in Zevon’s best work, the band’s lyrics contain large scale visual dreams - Cold War imagery ("Sparks and Shrapnel"), true stories of a misguided Northwest militia ("Freedom County") tragic love songs ("Idle Threats and Cigarettes") and tales of regret (“Good Enough”.) This is a thinking man’s country folk rock, exactly the type lost in 2004. Massy Ferguson brings it back, adds to it, and makes it even better. Where The Jayhawks left off Massy Ferguson begins.
Put this Seattle-based band on your “Must Watch” list. Massy Ferguson plows fertile ground and produces a stellar harvest with Hard Water. To paraphrase the late Warren Zevon, this is a band to “keep in your heart.”
- Old School
Velvet Revolver Leaks Performance From Upcoming ‘Live In Houston’ DVD
And speaking of rock . . .
Velvet Revolver has just leaked their performance of “Slither” which comes off their upcoming DVD, Live In Houston, hitting stores on November 16th. Filmed in 2005, the concert captures the band touring in support of their award winning debut album, Contraband. The full length tracks are intercut with brief interviews with the band members talking about how Velvet Revolver came to be. The setlist focuses on Contraband, but also includes cover versions of tracks by Guns ‘n’ Roses and Stone Temple Pilots highlighting the history of the group members. Live in Houston features the original Velvet Revolver line-up of vocalist Scott Weiland, lead guitarist Slash, bassist/vocalist Duff McKagan, drummer Matt Sorum, and rhythm guitarist Dave Kushner.
Track Listing:
1.) Sucker Train Blues
2.) Do It For The Kids
3.) Headspace
4.) Crackerman
5.) Illegal I
6.) It’s So Easy
7.) Fall To Pieces
8.) Big Machine
9.) Set Me Free
10.) Used To Love Her
11.) Slither
12.) Sex Type Thing
Get the DVD Velvet Revolver: Live in Houston DVD
Check out “Slither:”
Velvet Revolver - "Slither" from 'Live in Houston' DVD from RawknRoll on Vimeo.
AYIEEEEEEEEEE
In...total...state...of...disbelief
According to bloody disgusting Zac Efron, him off High School Musical, is going to play Kaneda in the American remake of Akira.
And the action is going to shift from New-Tokyo to the States.
Gobsmacked, well and truly gobsmacked!
I Like to Rock - Featuring Astrovan, Sweet Kiss Momma, Diablo Royale, and Eden Burning
Perhaps Myles Goodwyn, the lead singer of April Wine, said it best; “I like to rock!”
Once upon a time, rock was king. Good old fashioned, hard and heavy rock. There was nothing to match the excitement that exploded in every testosterone-crazed, teen-aged boy’s adrenals when Nugent unleashed “Cat Scratch Fever,” or the universal man-nod of approval that followed AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.” I remember the fever that broke out when Back in Black was released. The anticipation, the moment, the climax, the basking glow of the aftermath. Breathless. Sweaty. You know where I’m going with this.
But over the years, good old fashioned rock got vilified. If you liked it you were called a Neanderthal, a caveman, a lunkhead. Rock was the genre for hairy men who lived in their parent’s basements, smelled like fermenting gym socks, couldn’t imagine a woman without the staples of the centerfold piercing her belly, and cultivated one or two brain cells at most.
Then when bands like Arcade Fire broke through, rock got pushed father and farther down into the dirty underwear drawer. Those who “knew” --critics who tried to set the stage for the rest of us-- only liked indy rock. It was refined, cultivated. It was sensitive.
Forget that! You may or may not like Arcade Fire, but one thing they aren’t is rock. This sissy-fication of rock reached pinnacle levels of fey sensitivity with the success of bands like Keane and Coldplay. Damn it. I’m a man. Got testosterone. I scratch my crotch and drink milk right outta the carton. I want it loud and I want it ballsy, dirty, slimy, in my face and nasty. I want my rock dangerous and ready for a prison break. I want my rock to rawk!
Fortunately, there are still some dirty mofos out there who get it. This column is for them.
Astrovan – You Said it Man
One note is all it takes. One note! Dig that guitar, hear the fuzz, the grit. Feel the thunder of the drum quaking in the background. Layer on some thick as molasses bass dripping in honey sweat, drop in a front-man with swagger, a cocky in your face ‘tude, with a foul mouth and a throat full of spit, and we got the makings of a great rock album . . er . . . EP.
Coming from Seattle, these guys suckled at the teet of Soundgarden, sprouted appendages in the womb of Alice in Chains. They were sired by the riff-Lords of Guns n’ Roses, and AC/DC and Aerosmith. And what emerged was fully-formed, ugly and nasty, pissed off and vowing not to take it no more. It’s all there, in song two, “Twelve Guage Promise.” I’m tired of talking to you/now it’s time for action. You want danger in your rock? How's a loaded shotgun in your face hit you?
The retro-packaging of the Peachy folder lets anyone know that these guys got '70's riff-rock rampaging in their veins. They blaze across the six-song EP, like a five-headed, hot-rod gang of parolees, pummeling out throttle-rock at high-octane levels. Suck on the exhaust, grab your brass knuckles and join in the fun.
Buy here: You Said It Man
Buy Mp3: You Said It Man [Explicit]
www.myspace.com/astrovanner
Sweet Kiss Momma – Revival Rock
Revival rock indeed! This gritty platter of ballsy, blues-ified, riff-rock comes at you like a blood-spittled gator crawling out of some time-warped southern swamp, where guitars still reign supreme, men drive 18-foot tall trucks with bigger gun racks, and Jack Daniels drips from mother’s breasts instead of milk.
This isn’t revisionist rock, it’s a fucking reclamation! It’s a six-string declaration that rock in the classic southern vein is back-- the land claimed in the name of Queen Hustler Magazine and moonshine. Bongs at the ready. But not only does this shit rock, it grooves. Really grooves, in that rolling way that only the best of Southern Rock ever could. Just listen to “Son of the Mountain,” and you’ll get it. That groove is thicker than the layer of mud caked on the tires at a tractor pull.
Like Pig Iron, these mutts are the real deal. Sure there’s a touch of Skynard, but it’s more full-on rock than that. Think Point Blank when they were good, 38 Special when they mattered, Blackfoot when they existed. Take that whole vibe, douse it in axle grease, drop it off in some biker bar brandishing the Confederate Flag, $1 beers, and a protective fence around the stage and we’re all set.
I don’t know what these guys look like, but my imagination says that they’re big hairy brutes who could put the fear of God into anybody who crosses their path. Just the way rock is supposed to be.
www.myspace.com/sweetkissmomma
Diablo Royale – Greedy Dogs
Fuck Axl Rose! Take a band that mattered and turn it into a living joke? In front of the whole world? Not on Diablo Royale’s watch!
Churning out a brutal beast of venomous rock and roll, Greedy Dogs is the clamor of testosterone-laden street curs no longer content to sit back and watch the music they love die. Guitars at the ready, grasped as surely as if they were M16 machine guns, aimed squarely at the solar plexus, Diablo Royale swath themselves in bathtub-meth, hard rock savagery.
“Resistance,” with it’s “six feet underground” refrain and mad-as-hell riffery is as certain to imprison your ear as the first time you ever heard “Paradise City.” Then, without letting up for one moment “Greedy Dogs,” unloads with the mother-of-all massive hard rock riffs, guaranteed to whip the punters into a frenzy. Drugs, riots, groupies. Diablo Royale are a return to those heady days when rock really mattered and no hotel room was safe. Hear that television crashing through the 18th floor window? Yeah, that's them.
Buy here: Greedy Dogs
Buy mp3: Greedy Dogs
http://diabloroyale.net/home/
Eden Burning – Banged Up N’ Dirty
Eden Burning got one singular message for the American public. They got penises and they ain’t afraid to use em. Lock up your daughters, chain up your wives, this is the return of cock rock with nary a condom in sight. Banged Up N’ Dirty? This is get down, humped-from-behind, filthy and obnoxious rawk. This is a Russ Myers B-rated, G-cup film brought to life, soaked in beer, whiskey, body fluids and left bare-naked on the floor, exhausted, spent, and begging for more.
“If You Want Me,” sums up these one-eyed monsters’ world view. “The girl was a freak, liked to do the crazy mambo,” spit out amidst the crushing powerchords and vibrator-paced drums and bass. Power? Hell yes! As the Pope would say, these guys pound it out as viciously as a trained monkey using my ball sack as a boxing speed bag.
“Glitter Girl,” spits out glammed up and sexy, but no less porn-tastic. These guys are like the rust on a strippers brass pole, festering from years of contact with body fluids. Toss in a guitar lick that’s just about as sexy as said stripper and we got a tune that should keep dollar bills flowing in girlie clubs year round.
I don’t know who they sound like. Kiss? Nugent? Does it really matter? It’s sleazy, cocaine-addled, junk rock cranked up to mind-melting, bug-eyed ferocity. Isn't that what rock’s all about?
www.myspace.com/edenburning
--Racer
Astrovan
Sweet Kiss Mama
Diablo Royale
Eden Burning
Once upon a time, rock was king. Good old fashioned, hard and heavy rock. There was nothing to match the excitement that exploded in every testosterone-crazed, teen-aged boy’s adrenals when Nugent unleashed “Cat Scratch Fever,” or the universal man-nod of approval that followed AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.” I remember the fever that broke out when Back in Black was released. The anticipation, the moment, the climax, the basking glow of the aftermath. Breathless. Sweaty. You know where I’m going with this.
But over the years, good old fashioned rock got vilified. If you liked it you were called a Neanderthal, a caveman, a lunkhead. Rock was the genre for hairy men who lived in their parent’s basements, smelled like fermenting gym socks, couldn’t imagine a woman without the staples of the centerfold piercing her belly, and cultivated one or two brain cells at most.
Then when bands like Arcade Fire broke through, rock got pushed father and farther down into the dirty underwear drawer. Those who “knew” --critics who tried to set the stage for the rest of us-- only liked indy rock. It was refined, cultivated. It was sensitive.
Forget that! You may or may not like Arcade Fire, but one thing they aren’t is rock. This sissy-fication of rock reached pinnacle levels of fey sensitivity with the success of bands like Keane and Coldplay. Damn it. I’m a man. Got testosterone. I scratch my crotch and drink milk right outta the carton. I want it loud and I want it ballsy, dirty, slimy, in my face and nasty. I want my rock dangerous and ready for a prison break. I want my rock to rawk!
Fortunately, there are still some dirty mofos out there who get it. This column is for them.
One note is all it takes. One note! Dig that guitar, hear the fuzz, the grit. Feel the thunder of the drum quaking in the background. Layer on some thick as molasses bass dripping in honey sweat, drop in a front-man with swagger, a cocky in your face ‘tude, with a foul mouth and a throat full of spit, and we got the makings of a great rock album . . er . . . EP.
Coming from Seattle, these guys suckled at the teet of Soundgarden, sprouted appendages in the womb of Alice in Chains. They were sired by the riff-Lords of Guns n’ Roses, and AC/DC and Aerosmith. And what emerged was fully-formed, ugly and nasty, pissed off and vowing not to take it no more. It’s all there, in song two, “Twelve Guage Promise.” I’m tired of talking to you/now it’s time for action. You want danger in your rock? How's a loaded shotgun in your face hit you?
The retro-packaging of the Peachy folder lets anyone know that these guys got '70's riff-rock rampaging in their veins. They blaze across the six-song EP, like a five-headed, hot-rod gang of parolees, pummeling out throttle-rock at high-octane levels. Suck on the exhaust, grab your brass knuckles and join in the fun.
Buy here: You Said It Man
Buy Mp3: You Said It Man [Explicit]
www.myspace.com/astrovanner
Revival rock indeed! This gritty platter of ballsy, blues-ified, riff-rock comes at you like a blood-spittled gator crawling out of some time-warped southern swamp, where guitars still reign supreme, men drive 18-foot tall trucks with bigger gun racks, and Jack Daniels drips from mother’s breasts instead of milk.
This isn’t revisionist rock, it’s a fucking reclamation! It’s a six-string declaration that rock in the classic southern vein is back-- the land claimed in the name of Queen Hustler Magazine and moonshine. Bongs at the ready. But not only does this shit rock, it grooves. Really grooves, in that rolling way that only the best of Southern Rock ever could. Just listen to “Son of the Mountain,” and you’ll get it. That groove is thicker than the layer of mud caked on the tires at a tractor pull.
Like Pig Iron, these mutts are the real deal. Sure there’s a touch of Skynard, but it’s more full-on rock than that. Think Point Blank when they were good, 38 Special when they mattered, Blackfoot when they existed. Take that whole vibe, douse it in axle grease, drop it off in some biker bar brandishing the Confederate Flag, $1 beers, and a protective fence around the stage and we’re all set.
I don’t know what these guys look like, but my imagination says that they’re big hairy brutes who could put the fear of God into anybody who crosses their path. Just the way rock is supposed to be.
www.myspace.com/sweetkissmomma
Fuck Axl Rose! Take a band that mattered and turn it into a living joke? In front of the whole world? Not on Diablo Royale’s watch!
Churning out a brutal beast of venomous rock and roll, Greedy Dogs is the clamor of testosterone-laden street curs no longer content to sit back and watch the music they love die. Guitars at the ready, grasped as surely as if they were M16 machine guns, aimed squarely at the solar plexus, Diablo Royale swath themselves in bathtub-meth, hard rock savagery.
“Resistance,” with it’s “six feet underground” refrain and mad-as-hell riffery is as certain to imprison your ear as the first time you ever heard “Paradise City.” Then, without letting up for one moment “Greedy Dogs,” unloads with the mother-of-all massive hard rock riffs, guaranteed to whip the punters into a frenzy. Drugs, riots, groupies. Diablo Royale are a return to those heady days when rock really mattered and no hotel room was safe. Hear that television crashing through the 18th floor window? Yeah, that's them.
Buy here: Greedy Dogs
Buy mp3: Greedy Dogs
http://diabloroyale.net/home/
Eden Burning – Banged Up N’ Dirty
Eden Burning got one singular message for the American public. They got penises and they ain’t afraid to use em. Lock up your daughters, chain up your wives, this is the return of cock rock with nary a condom in sight. Banged Up N’ Dirty? This is get down, humped-from-behind, filthy and obnoxious rawk. This is a Russ Myers B-rated, G-cup film brought to life, soaked in beer, whiskey, body fluids and left bare-naked on the floor, exhausted, spent, and begging for more.
“If You Want Me,” sums up these one-eyed monsters’ world view. “The girl was a freak, liked to do the crazy mambo,” spit out amidst the crushing powerchords and vibrator-paced drums and bass. Power? Hell yes! As the Pope would say, these guys pound it out as viciously as a trained monkey using my ball sack as a boxing speed bag.
“Glitter Girl,” spits out glammed up and sexy, but no less porn-tastic. These guys are like the rust on a strippers brass pole, festering from years of contact with body fluids. Toss in a guitar lick that’s just about as sexy as said stripper and we got a tune that should keep dollar bills flowing in girlie clubs year round.
I don’t know who they sound like. Kiss? Nugent? Does it really matter? It’s sleazy, cocaine-addled, junk rock cranked up to mind-melting, bug-eyed ferocity. Isn't that what rock’s all about?
www.myspace.com/edenburning
--Racer
Astrovan
Sweet Kiss Mama
Diablo Royale
Eden Burning
A Sunday Conversation with Tank
Can you say legendary? Nothing else could sum up the career and respect garnered for Tank. Emerging from the UK in the height of the NWOBHM scene (although not a NWOBHM band, read below) Tank have unleashed one napalm blast after another of searing metal. And today, with a new album out, War Machine, the band is still going just as strong.
Cliff Evans joins us today on the red leather Ripple couch, ale in hand, venom in spirit, ready to shed some light on all that is Tank
Talk to us about the song-writing process for you. What comes first, the idea? A riff? The lyrics? How does it all fall into place?
We usually start with a guitar riff and pass the idea between us and build the song. We all have home studios so it’s easy to email ideas to each other and work on the songs until they’re at the stage where we can record the tracks in a pro studio.
What makes a great song?
That’s a difficult question. I think a song either works or it doesn’t. There’s no rules.
Who today, writes great songs? Who just kicks your ass? Why?
To be honest there aren’t many bands around at the moment that really do much for me in the way of song writing. I prefer to listen to my old albums from the 70’s and early 80’s when so many great songs were born and the quality of production has made them timeless rock anthems. Too many bands are relying on over produced and fake studio techniques which results in music without any soul or substance. We worked very hard under the guidance of our producer Pedro Ferreira (The Darkness, Meat Loaf, Therapy) to give ‘War Machine’ the sound and vibe we were looking for and we’re very pleased with the result we got.
Any plans for a U.S. tour?
It’s been a long, long time since we last toured the US and it would be a real privilege to come over and play for our ever growing army of US fans. Hopefully we can arrange something for 2011.
Any good stories of playing with Metallica in 1984?
We gave them a master class in the fine art of beer drinking.
Many NWOBHM bands are finding a spike in interest these days? Why do you think that is?
Not to be disrespectful to the nwobhm, but we have never considered ourselves as part of that movement and never will. We’ve been trying to lose that tag for a long time. Nobody refers to Iron Maiden as a nwobhm band. We’re just a British rock band moving forwards and creating great new music and not living off the past.
Which 3 headed beast would win in a dog fight - the one on the cover of Filth Hounds Of Hades or the one on the cover of Wild Dogs by The Rods?
No contest. Filth Hounds every time.
How's your hearing?
I’m hearing a lot of crap music on my radio at the moment.
What do you have to say to skeptics that are reluctant to accept Tank without Algy Ward?
We decided that if the fans weren’t happy with our decision then we wouldn’t carry on as Tank.
Last year we performed at several festivals around Europe to showcase the new line-up and the reaction from the fans was great. To our surprise nobody even asked why Algy wasn’t there. They were just happy to see the band and hear their favourite songs. We now intend to tour as much as possible and give the fans what they deserve.
Algy had a habit of disappearing for several years at a time. He also seemed to have lost interest in the band and had some health problems to deal with. We were constantly receiving emails from fans all over the world asking what was going on with the band. This became very frustrating for Mick and me so we made the decision to move Tank forwards into a new era with a great new line-up and record an album that we could be proud of and give the fans what they want
Hopefully we can work with Algy again sometime in the future.
How's the music changed over the years?
Tank has been constantly evolving since the very beginning. Starting with the punk influenced sound of ‘Filth Hounds’ and ‘Power of the Hunter’ then with the addition of Mick Tucker on guitar for the next album ‘This Means War’, the band headed into a more classic rock direction with the big guitar riffs. When I joined for the ‘Honour and Blood’ album we were starting to gain a more metal edge. Now ‘ War Machine’ is the next generation. A new era of Tank. We had to come back with something very special and put Tank back up to the forefront of British rock.
What's the craziest thing you've ever seen from the stage?
When I was playing in the band Killers with Paul Dianno, we would often see him leave the stage and head towards the mixing desk to have a fight with the sound guy because his voice sounded shit. Nothing to do with the two bottles of Jack and six grams of Charlie every day.
Whiskey or beer? And defend your choice.
We drink British real ale for it’s life giving properties and anti ageing effect. It also gets you really fucked up and doubles as a laxative. Our current favourite ales are – Old Speckled Hen, Hobgoblin and Bishops Finger.
Any final comments or thoughts you'd like to share with our readers, the waveriders?
No matter what kind of rock/metal you’re into, have a listen to ‘War Machine’. We guarantee you won’t be disappointed with what you hear.
Hopefully we’ll see you all somewhere on tour in 2011.
Buy new album here: War Machine (Limited)
www.tankofficial.com
photos care of 658creative.
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