So today while going through the Ripple website I noticed that one of my favorite albums from last year was not reviewed. “What no one wrote about Off!s First Four Eps album???“ After the shock wore Off! (pun intended), I decided I should write a little something about a big yet short album. Clocking in at under a mere 18 minutes, the 16 track collection of Eps makes you yearn for more.
There was always a question I asked myself. Though I do love Henry Rollins, I always wondered what would Black Flag of sounded like had Keith Morris never left the band?. Off! is the answer. Beginning with the first “Black Thoughts” you realize that Keith truly can’t be stopped. At the age of 55 it seems he never will. “Black Thoughts” sounds like a song Greg Gin would of wrote right after Nervous Breakdown had Keith never left Black Flag, one minute of in your face blistering punk rock furry with catchy lyrics.
Some other songs of note on the album are “Fuck People”, “Rat Trap” and “Darkness”. Although the entire album is a great listen for those who are ADD about music, love old school punk rock or just music in general. “Fuck People” is by fair my favorite track on the album. Mostly cause I can feel the same way about today’s society.
If you are a fan of old school hardcore punk, this album is for you. If you are ADD about your music or you need a quick punk rock fix, this album is for you. If you are a fan of Black Flag or The Circle Jerks, this album is for you. Bottom line, Off!s First Four Eps is for you. Check it out.
Here is a tip: there are many ways to get this album such as an itunes digital download, a digital download from the official Off! Website or the vinyl box set. I recommend getting the box set since it comes with a free digital download…money well spent.
I unearthed my battered copy of Tapping The Source by the Lazy Cowgirls recently and then the very next day this new LP by Brooklyn’s Live Ones shows up. Before even hearing a note of the Live Ones, I knew the similarities were pretty obvious. Both albums have black and white no frills covers and contain high energy punk influenced rock & roll. Yer Quite Welcome’s album cover is an action shot of the band playing at NYC’s notorious dirtbag rock bar the Ding Dong Lounge. I can tell because the Ding Dong has an awesome Motorhead poster for a show they played at the Calderone Theater on Long Island in 1983. The Rods and Virgin Steele opened (legend has it V.Steele got booed off the stage). The poster’s covered up by their logo but is there for you to drool over on the back cover.
Yer Quite Welcome really reminds me of my old favorite Cowgirls album but also of Australian maniacs like Cosmic Psychos or even the Hard-Ons. Album opener “Disowned” gives you everything you need to know about this band - fast, pissed off punk (but not hardcore) played by 3 gruel dudes old enough to know better but too tired to care. Other side one highlights includes “Lifeline,” which starts off with an almost Blackfoot feel before veering into Rolling Stones territory and the Johnny Thunders “So Alone” influenced song “Haunted.” They even have a song called “We’ll Take You Higher” that sounds like something the Brought Low would write but, unfortunately, there’s no mention of weeed in the lyrics.
Side 2 has a great song called “Writing’s On The Wall” that is vintage 1974 Kiss. “We’re The Ones” jumps ahead a few years to 1977 and brings to mind the Dead Boys classic “Caught With The Meat In Your Mouth.” “Get Up & Move” is a nice autobiographical number that mentions that they got their start at the Charleston, one of Brooklyn’s dumpiest bars to play in, as well as getting shut down by the cops in Greenpoint. These are all topics near and dear to my heart.
You can’t go wrong with this one. It’s brought to you by Drug Front Records, a new label run New York’s #1 Joe Lynn Turner fan Dean Rispler. But don’t hold that against him. Dean’s worked with some fine bands like the Candy Snatchers and Bad Wizard and is foolish enough with his money to release this on LP and CD. If you like it raw, loud and snotty check out the Live Ones.
When it comes to the MC5 I’m always ready to testify about any of their albums. If someone asks me which one is my favorite it takes a lot less than 5 seconds of decision. Kick Out The Jams rules and Back In The USA is great, too but High Time is IT. Always has been, always will. The MC5 are a prime example of what happens when very talented individuals combine forces and record collections in order to break thru the terminal stasis of boredom, classification and mediocrity. This can only be achieved through thousands of hours in the practice room and on the stage. Tons of weeed helps, too.
The history of the MC5 has been written many times before so there’s no need for me to recap it again for you. (Does anyone know what ever happened to Ben Edmonds’ biography No Greater Noise that was supposed to come out almost TWENTY years ago?) By 1971 the MC5 had proven themselves as a major force to be reckoned with. Unfortunately, most people decided that their brand of mayhem was waaaay too much of a mellow harsher and they would rather not have the band spray their sweat all over them as they worked the stage. Ignoring the marketplace, the band created what was to be their final album High Time. Turns out it was creatively their most successful merger of pure Chuck Berry/Link Wray rock n roll, James Brown dynamics and the ferocious group improv of Sun Ra and the John Coltrane Quartet. Most bands can only attempt to move in one of those directions but the MC5 aimed high and went for a triple pronged attack.
Side one, song one - “Sister Anne” – BOOM! One of the greatest rock songs of all time. Starts off with a great, circular guitar riff and then the band comes crashing in with a monster boogie that makes the rest of your record collection seem kinda lightweight. At over 7 minutes, it never gets boring and you want it to keep going. Excellent lyrics written by guitarist Fred “Sonic” Smith delivered with a lot of heart and soul by vocalist Rob Tyner. Great guitar solos from Fred and fellow guiterrorist Wayne Kramer, a harmonica solo from Rob and even the Salvation Army marching band at the end. It’s such a shame that classic rock radio has ignored this song for so many years. What would happen if they played one less Meat Loaf or Bob Seger song once a week and played this instead? Would someone die? How much advertising revenue would they really lose? Their mistake means we just have to play it louder with the windows down so everyone else can hear it.
After that monolith comes the hyper boogie of “Baby Won’t Ya,” another winner written by Fred. On past MC5 albums all the band members shared songwriting credits equally but High Time is the first one with individuals noted. Fred dominates with four songs, half of the album and some of the best ones. The other Fred songs are "Over and Over” and "Skunk (Sonicly Speaking)." "Over and Over” deals with the frustration of war, society and inequality. Rob’s extremely pissed off vocals let you know he’s not fucking around. On the other hand, “Skunk” is pure rhythm and who knows what the lyrics are about. Fred wrote this one to show off the skills of Dennis Thompson, one of rock’s greatest drummers. “Skunk” starts off with Dennis pounding out a furious beat and is then joined by a bunch of others (including Seger) pounding on cans, bottles, cowbells, etc until Fred fires up another one of his classic riffs. Dennis has always said his two favorite drummers are Keith Moon and Elvin Jones and he makes that obvious here. His technique is incredible but he never sacrifices passion for it, and vice versa. Monster fucking drummer. Dennis’ partner in the rhythm section, bassist Mike Davis, is no slouch either although rumor has it he doesn’t play on all the songs here. Unfortunately, Mike had some drug problems that eventually got him kicked out of the band but he’s still alive and well. Very nice guy and I was fortunate enough to spend about an hour talking to him after one of the DKT/MC5 reunion shows in NYC back in 2005.
Dennis returns the favor and wrote “Gotta Keep Movin’” to show off Fred’s speedy guitar leads. Everything about this song is awesome. It contains some of the best belligerent “get out of my way” lyrics ever written, a violent groove and burning guitar playing. You will get a speeding ticket listening to this one in the car. Pure Motorhead music about 5 years before Motorhead existed.
"Future/Now" is the lone composition from Rob Tyner but it’s a killer, too. A great bass line starts it off then a killer drum fill cues the rest of the band in. Rob’s been described as the philosopher of the band and the lyrics bear that out – “the future's here right now if you're willing to pay the cost.” Turns out most of the hippies in the 1960’s weren’t willing to pay the cost, which is how we wound up with Richard Nixon as president and Fleetwood Mac ruling the airwaves.
Brother Wayne Kramer contributes two songs. “Miss X” is a piano driven ballad that I’ve never much cared for but I’m not big on ballads to begin with. I was very happy to hear it turn up in an episode of HBO’s East Bound & Down, though. (Wayne works as musical director on the show). His other song is more my style, a full blooded rocker called “Poison” with some of his most blistering guitar work. He later did a great cover of this song with the Melvins on one of his solo albums.
After High Time the band unfortunately fell apart and was not able to realize its full potential. The MC5 should have been packing stadiums and blowing away the competition for many years after 1971. Like most pioneers, they took the arrows and paved the way for everyone from Aerosmith to the Ramones. The MC5 are often credited as a “pre-punk” or “proto-metal” band but the truth is they go way beyond either of those categories. Most punk bands never had a rhythm section as tight or could offer up the guitar fire power as the MC5, and only the Ramones delivered the triple Marshall stack attack on punk crowds. Metal bands took the volume and powertrip spectacle but made things too rehearsed and downright silly. At the end of the day the MC5 were, to quote Duke Ellington, “beyond category.” If you have a stereo with a volume knob, High Time better be in your collection.
With a roster that includes such Boston street punk bands as The Dropkick Murphys and Streetdogs, it only seems fitting that Taang! should have The Business kicking around their digs also. So as we wind up our weeklong look into the depths of the Taang! roster, it's time to feed Saturdays Heroes into the player, grab a pint, round up the mates, and head out looking for trouble.
For those who don't know, The Business first raised hell on the streets of South London way back in 1979. With a career that has gone on to span 30 years, these streetwise punkers never slowed down and this 1996 release finds the blokes in fine form. Sweat-soaked, beer stained, pint-in-the-air scream-along anthems is what The Business specializes in and you'll find more than your requisite handful here. And just as importantly, the band show no signs of slowing down as they moved from young upstarts to elder statemens of working-class punk. It's no wonder bands like The Dropkick Murphys look toward The Business as inspiration.
One look at the photos and you'd be hard pressed to predict what mayhem is to follow in the grooves of the disc. Singer Mickey Fitz possesses a truly guttural set of vocal chords that spits out socially conscious rebellions with a heavy-handed cockney accent. And all that venom is lost behind the more-than-boyish cherub of a face, polo shirt, and arms that look like they couldn't threaten a girl scout. Likewise, Guitarist Steve whale, bassist/chief songwriter Mark Brennan, and drummer Mick Fairbarn each play with spit-soaked abandon but look like they're crawling off the cover of preppie Gentlemen's Quarterly not ready for a hardcore frenzy.
Don't let looks deceive you.
Like that kid in school who looked so calm and shy but really ran a meth lab in his basement, the gents of The Business may not focus so much on their image. But they sure do on their music. "Spanish Jails" kicks this frenzy off in high-tension velocity. A true fist-pounder in the classic style of some of the best of the Clash's early punk. Guitars buzz and chug and churn. The bass thuds and punishes and the skins get pounded harder than a pool hustler trying to cheat the Hell's Angels. You gotta visualize a pub for this one. Full of working class stiffs, rowdy-ing up for a football match or a gang fight. Fists are pumping. Ale is sailing through the air. Testosterone is rising. It's good. It's all good.
But the fist-pumping street punk doesn't stop there. "All Out Tonight" "Never Be Taken" and Shout it Out" are all rousing anthems of working class discontent and fury. Rocking, riffing hardcore with sneer, anger, and cynicism. Again, forget the boys appearance. One listen to the soaring chorus of "All Out Tonight" and I know I wouldn't ever want to get on these cats bad side. "You're all just hypocrites/got money on your minds/I know your name and I know your game." This is a call to class warfare of the nth degree and you better believe that each of the Oi! punks listening will be packing brass knuckles, chains, and tire irons. Stay off the streets when the Business comes to town.
"Never Be Taken" is chugging, hardcore riffery at its finest, motoring along like some cockey Ramones outtake and Sham 69 venom. "Hold your heads up high" Fitz wails above the dissonant buzzsaw guitar riffs. With it's message of pride it's clear that with The Business, the working class battles on with dignity, intelligence, anger and wit. Inspirational in it's intent and execution. If I'd been a working class yob in London, this song would've rallied me to storm the palace.
In addition to the original album, licensed from Link Music, Taang! throws 5 bonus cuts into the mix including the revved up cockney gang fight "Hurry Up Harry", the moderately sedate, melodic neighborhood observation of "Get Out of My House", the gunfight in a bottle "Outlaw" and the original version of "All Out Tonight." Plenty of Oi! for your money.
While never as popular as the Sex Pistols, the Clash, or Sham 69, The Business do what they do amazingly well and just may be one of the most overlooked punk bands of the Oi! movement.
Continuing on with our journey through Taang! week, we find this delicious, belly-satisfying smorgasbord of back-in-the-da,y East Bay pun- thrash courtesy of the Part-Time Christians.
Fast and furious? Check. Anger spat out in a spleen venting eruption? Yep. Gut-wrenching, grinding guitar riffs? Oh, yes. An absolutely bizarre fixation with . . . bowling? Uh, yeah. We got that too. Forget skate punk. The Part-Time Christians may just be the world's founders (if not the only members) of the Bowling Punk genre. Yeah, maybe you hadn't heard of it before now. But you should, because the P.T.C.'s are killer at what they do.
I gotta admit, I took to this CD a bit more rapidly than I may have otherwise once I read the liner notes where bassist-cum-lead screamer Cosmo lays out a tale that hit real close to home. And I mean that literally. While I'd never heard these guys before, it seems they formed back in my days, right in my backyard. In those notes Cosmo reveals how he left his evil step-dad's home in Iowa and moved west to Modesto and then Concord, California. Knowing that Concord was just a stone's throw from SF and having just seen his first Dead Kennedys show, he envisioned himself knee-deep in an alternative culture where punk kids ruled society, hardcore was the national anthem, and piercings and punk attire was the Gucci couture. Big mistake. Back in the early '80's, as Cosmo soon discovered, Concord, California was "quite possibly the most outwardly racist, heavy metal hell" he'd ever set foot in. And it was. I know this. I nearly got my ass kicked several times growing up outside of Concord. And I was a metal head! But the difference was I didn't wear my AC/DC allegiance on my sleeve, drive a pick-up, and spout out like a lunk-headed, jock jackass. I was into Maiden and Saxon and Motorhead back when Concord didn't know they existed. In their one-neuron-shared mind, I was just as weird as the punks were. So I got on well with the punk kids. I wasn't one of them, but I was just as much an outsider by musical proxy as they were. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that rubbish.
Despite this wall of hatred around them, Cosmo managed to field together a band, get East Bay Ray from The Dead Kennedys to listen, produce their initial stuff and release some 7"'s on Alternative Tentacles Records. After a blitzkrieg career that found the East Bay band playing alongside such acts as the Dead Kennedy's, Suicidal Tendencies, T.S.O.L., Exodus, Social Distortion, Butthole Surfers, Faith No More, Death Angel, and the Lords of the New Church, the band broke up. Now, 22 years later, P.T.C. has reformed and this Taang! release compiles 21 songs into a must have retrospective and current snapshot of the underground legends.
First up, we get the whole 8 song Rock and Roll is Disco EP originally released in 1984 and appearing here on CD for the first time. And there it is. Everything that made the band tick. A vicious low rumble of bass, a maniacal smashing of cymbals and drum, a larynx shredding vocal attack of pure, unadulterated punk. "Religion on a Stick" just attacks out of the speakers with a huge middle finger raised to the religious hypocrites who "church on Sunday, sin on Monday." Probably just as powerful now as it was back in the day. But the boys don't just vent. There's a pounding to the guitars and bass that captivates. There's some chord progressions that definitely take this out of the ordinary. Dynamic changes. Structure. Nearly a singable chorus. It's pure hardcore of the first order, and possesses that little something extra. "Bonique" follows and again it become apparent that these guys may have been full-on punk, but that doesn't mean they were instrument bashers. They knew how to play, how to write some songs, mash in some heavy metal elements to the punk assault. Truly, they were a hybrid crossover between punk and metal long before that term ever existed. And suddenly, the times they played with Faith No More, Exodus and Death Angel begin to make sense.
Then there's that other thing. The bowling obsession. And when I say obsession, I mean OBSESSION. How do the song titles "Strength Through Bowling", " Bowling Pin Massacre," "Orthopedic Bowling Shoes"," and "Gutterball" grab you? But don't worry, these weren't novelty attacks by the band. "Strength" is a hardcore frenzy of staccato vocals and buzzsaw guitars. "Bowling Pin Massacre" is a very early punk/funk/rap fusion that actually is more fun (and more funky) than you might expect. "Orthopedic" almost qualifies as post-punk with it's chiming guitar lines, while "Gutterball" is anger and venom, just as it should be when your "life is a gutterball."
But one thing that makes this release so cool is the hint of what the future holds for PTC. From their 2008 reunion we get four songs in the form of the P.T.C. Lives EP. With a revamped, but familiar line-up P.T.C. come raging back sounding just a vital as ever. "Chrome (Got What it Takes)" is pure hardcore/metal melding energy. Rampant bass and roughshod guitars buzz under Cosmo's barely contained vocals. This is seriously heavy, seriously intense, and seriously good. It reminds me of the latest Leatherface offering, and if that band hit's your musical G-spot then you really should check P.T.C. out. Compared to back-in-the-day, the songs may be a touch slower, but if anything, they're a bit meaner. A more metallic edge has been ramrodded into the mix. "Electric Fence" almost sounds like a cross between Sabbath and the DK's. Which, if you think about it, is pretty f-ing cool. "Bionic Cop," keeps the crossover heat rising with pure thrash riffery and hardcore gang-vocal choruses. Finally, "One Dead Bee" expands the metal-punk reformation to the epic with its 6:44 assault to the frontal lobe.
Adding to the cool factor of the whole thing is the final section. 8 song demo versions recorded in 1983. Raw, crude. An attitude more than an actual band here, the song's are fun for filling in the history line of the band. But truthfully, with the rough sound quality, these are probably more of interest to committed P.T.C. fans rather than new acquaintances. Still, some of the cuts that never made it onto the Rock and Roll is Disco EP are pretty fricking fun, like "Sex in a Sub-Compact" and the gothic/punk horrorscapade of "Cemetery" leading the pack.
Funny, how I had to wait 27 years and needed the assistance of a Boston-formed punk rock label to introduce me to guys that fought the same battles I fought back in high school, right in my own backyard. But there it is. I'll be looking for the next P.T.C show in the Concord area and be sure to be there moshing to welcome back the boys.
As I continue down this path of punk rock discovery, one thing that is readily apparent is that, like most if not all other musical genres, there is wide range of styles. We have all this great crossover stuff, the early British punk, the New York hardcore, the O.C. stuff, and then there’s this Boston punk scene that I’ve always known about, but never paid much attention to. That is, until Racer turned me on to Street Dogs and then it was like someone turned on a light in very dark and cluttered room. I could suddenly see the brilliance of said cluttered room, and I now had the opportunity to really dissect the intricacies of the pieces of clutter littering the room.
Part of the now infamous Pope and Racer Taang! trip, is a band called Everybody Out! They’re a Boston punk outfit made up of Rick Barton, who played guitar in Dropkick Murphy’s, and The Dead Pets/Lost City Angels frontman, Sweeney Todd, and these guys play a most captivating brand of hardcore that I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. Sure . . . there are probably a ton of folks sitting around who know their Boston scene, and that’s fine, I’m not necessarily talking to you. I don’t need to . . . you’re already in the know! I’m trying to reach out to the masses of folk who are stuck in some underground bunker or . . . Alaska . . . those folks who are unknowingly screaming for a style of music that will have them bouncing around their domiciles, bobbing their heads in time with upbeat swagger, and ultimately singing along as if their voices belonged in some choir for the ages. These are the people who need to be spinning Everybody Out!’s self-titled debut record . . .yes, record. Sure, the CD is fine, but there are tracks on the LP that don’t make it on the CD and they are must have’s!
Everybody Out! is one of those records that you can’t listen to just once . . . it won’t let you. It’s too powerful of a force, and way too compelling and fun to go on to anything else. Opening with “Wide Awake”, the quick count off and the eruption of Sex Pistols-esque punk rock overwhelms the senses. Upbeat and sung with a defiant sneer, and then suddenly launches to a stratospheric raucous tirade, and man! I love every second of this! The chorus, the backing vocals, the immediacy of the face paced tempo, and in classic punk rock fashion, the breakdown with gang vocals sells me on this one way ticket to the Boston underground. Without a pause between tracks, “Everybody Out!” drops in and the living room bounce-a-thon continues. Another up tempo rocker and I dare you to knock sing at the top of your lungs . . . “Everybody out! Everybody out!” . . . it’s simply the most contagious song on the album. The best part for me is when the guys break the song down and hand clap the rhythm while chanting the chorus. The timing of the break is perfect . . . it could have come across as cheesy, but in this case, simply perfect. It totally captures the essence of this recording.
The sing-a-longs continue through “Ghettoblaster” and by the time we get to “Jack The Lad”, filled with its Mighty Mighty Bosstone ska inflections, our singing voices should be in top form to accompany the boys through the back half of the first side of this platter. This song caught me off guard a bit because I wasn’t expecting the horn section, especially the jazz tinged mid portion, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t one of the coolest songs on the record. Seriously . . . this album is getting better and better as it goes along! Everybody Out! shows a great amount of musical diversity throughout, incorporating horns in one song, pianos on the next, straight up guitar, bass, and drums on the next . . . just keep me guessing, lads!
Putting the wraps on side 1 is the song that forced me and Racer to pick this beast up. “Billy Cole” was playing over the P.A. system at Taang! and there was nothing more we could do. We simply had to purchase the record. Without question, one of the finest purchases of the day! Sung with a very Irish cadence, almost in poetic form, “Billy Cole” is the punk rock equivalent of folk music. The boys tell a tale of a couple of people, one being a cat named Billy Cole, who lead completely different lives and probably die completely different deaths, but ultimately are just two people trying to eke their ways through life. Acoustic guitars strum a heavy rhythm and the vocals convey the lyric message that pulls on the heart strings. Then when they introduce Mike, the music turns darker and heavier, more imposing, and fuck! Just buy the record and spin this song over and over again . . . it’s that fucking awesome!
If you still have the energy to flip the platter over and attack side 2, go on ya’! You’ll find yourself bouncing along with more of that upbeat Boston punk sound, complete with even more sing-alongs. But what you’ll get with the vinyl edition that you won’t get from the CD edition is songs like “Boy” and the show stopper, “Home”. “Boy” is another acoustic guitar strummin’ folk-y epic that injects a ton of distorted heaviness and maybe even more raw emotion. “Home” is one of those songs that Racer and would categorize as a patriotic song calling for our troops to get home to the families that love them. Perfectly penned in a lyrical fashion and the music conveys the immediacy for action. It’s enough to make the strongest punker get a little weepy. And, my God . . . the chorus is one that will have you standing on your rooftops, leaning out your high rise windows, shaking your fist and singing along!
If I had heard this album back in 2008 when it was originally released, it would have been sitting comfortably at the top of that year’s Best of List. Truth is, it’s probably even better than I think it is. Everybody Out!’s self-titled album is one of those albums that I don’t want to stop listening to. I’ll be cruising around doing my day to day activities and I’ll be thinking about listening to this record. I’ve actually listened to a couple of other records and couldn’t wait for them to end so I could put this one back on. Upbeat, positive, emotionally raw, solid song craft, good story telling . . . all elements that are included in this album, and it downright rocks! This one is highly recommended regardless of what style of music you gravitate towards. This is a genre crosser and it needs to be on your playlist.
Few bands in this world combine punk, hardcore and metal…and do it well. Canadian punk rock metalers, Cancer Bats are one of those that do. The Cancer Bats are influenced by the likes of Black Flag, Refused, and yes even Led Zeppelin. Based out of Toronto, Canada they have been rocking since 2004 and have released three l.ps and five e.ps in their short seven year span.
Birthing the Giant is the first full length album they released. This record is fucking non stop. I’m pretty sure I broke a sweat just listening to it. The lead off track “Golden Tanks” embodies the ferocity of the band. Singer Liam Cormier’s vocals are in your face though he is not screaming. Another amazing track, “Pneumonia Hawk” is done in similar fashion but with the addition of alexisonfire screamer George Pettit, for some dueling vocal action.
Hail Destroyer is the Cancer Bats second full length album. Much like Birthing the Giant, Hail Destroyer starts and ends in pure unbridled intensity. Keeping the trend alive with “borrowing” a second voice, many of Canada’s top band singers are also present on this album. Namely Tim McIlrath of Rise Against on "Harem of Scorpions”, Wade MacNeil of alexisonfire on "Deathsmarch" Ben Kowalewicz of Billy Talent on "Smiling Politely". The title track starts off with the a gritty guitar worthy of any southern metal band that leads into Cormier shouting “Tear us down!”, instantly making you want to grab the nearest authority figure and punch him in the mouth. They keep up this pace for the next 11 tracks, without missing a beat. If you are lucky enough to pick up this album with bonus tracks, you are in for a treat. The bonus cd contains three covers, including my personal favorite cover of The Murder City Devils’ “I want a Lot Now”
Their most recent release Bears, Mayors, Scraps & Bones was released in 2009. This album is exhausting..in a good way. There is a lot going on in this record. Multi-layered is understatement. Punk, hardcore, sludge: this album does it all. The opening track “Sleep This Away” is a sludgy mix of hardcore metal. The Cancer Bats also do a pretty nifty cover of the Beastie Boys “Sabotage”. The cover holds true the Beastie’s original but Cormier’s gruff vocals and the bands squealing guitars, make it their own.
Bottom line, the Cancer Bats have a bright future in today’s hardcore and metal scenes. They are defiantly one of the bands that is a “must see”. The bands overall stage presents is overwhelming and keeps you entertained.
Bubbling up from the underground. Pulsating from the heartbeat of the punk clubs and rock stages. Surging from the heart of middle America. A return to true, earnest rock and roll. Maybe it's a reaction against the overly-produced drivel that fills the airwaves. Maybe it's a statement about getting back to our roots, to what's core and meaningful. Shit, maybe it's all in my mind. All I know is that the Ripple Office has been inundated recently with a barrage of quality, back-to-the-roots of rock and roll albums from a diverse cross-section of bands. And I for one, couldn't be happier. They all do it in their own unique way, and they all kick my ass.
So let's get to them.
Tin Horn Prayer - Get Busy Dying
Featuring ex-members of such punky bands as The Blackout Pact, Only Thunder, Ghost Buffalo, Love Me Destroyer, and Pinhead Circus, Tin Horn Prayer come out of the speakers like a methamphetamine-fueled Tom Waits with a major chip on his shoulder and a suicide complex. Man, does this one kick me upside down of Tuesday! Major roots Americana here, including banjo, mandolin, and accordion thrown into the mix with the (mostly acoustic) guitars, bass, and drums. These guys go way outta their way to prove that punk is a state of mind, not a function of electricity. "Better Living," just may be one of my favorite lead-off tracks I've heard all year. Yeah, we got that mandolin kicking us off in all it's spartan beauty, bass and drums bubble underneath before the whole band launches into just a monster of an acousti-folk punk song. One helluva verse melody and just a choral hook that can't help but capture you like a hangman's noose. I mean one for the ages. Toss in some ridden-hard-and-hung-up-wet vocals and I'm in roots-punk heaven. When I say weathered, I don't mean these vocals are whiskey-aged, I mean they're perfectly leather-cracked, barely escaping from the vocal chords. This song saunters and rocks and funks and grooves, and it's all punk, baby.
"Crime Scene Cleanup Team," may be just about the most clever suicide note ever placed to music. Rather than scrawling a note to those who've wronged him, the author composes his final lament as an apology to the crime scene cleanup team who're gonna have to clean up his house after he blows his brains into a "red Picasso painting on the walls." Take lyrics like that and drop them over a seriously rockin' uptempo, guitar and banjo raver and you'll get a good feeling where these guys come from. Earnest? Hell, yes. They're like an unplugged Dropkick Murphys, or a head-on collision between Son Volt and the Street Dogs. Either way, I can't stop listening.
Only Thieves - Heartless Romantics
Another beer-soaked belch of churning earnest rock and roll, this time layered with a slacker sensibility and a hint of full-on Replacements instability. Cracking guitar work, layered upon layers bring an old school post-punk indy vibe to this cascading wall of sound. This is pure rawk and roll, layered with years of grit and road dust. Hearts are bared fully on their sleeves, and those sleeves dripping with sweat, whiskey, and a touch of exasperated blood.
Back in the day, we had a band called The Call. Oh yeah. Talk about earnest rock, with Michael Been belting it out as if his soul's salvation depended on it. Only Thieves mine a similar roots-angst vibe, with their chiming guitar assault, spraying punk spit, and pleadingly honest lyrics and vocals. Take a song like "Flood Lights" and I can almost hear Micheal Been's spirit being channeled in righteous indignation (RIP Michael. You left us too soon). That's not to say Only Thieves are revisionist, they certainly aren't. Just take that Call template, inject it full of Replacements rawness, some Superdrag and Lucero punk and indy savvy, and coat that whole thing with the leftover dust from an Uncle Tupelo concert and you'll get the feeling. "All Sad Young Men," masterfully mixes big indy guitars with exploding percussion, pop smarts and punk energy. "Discoveries" does the same with massive tsunami walls of churning guitars and zealot vocals. Springsteen gone punk. I like it.
The White Soots - S/T
A do-it-yourself effort that literally reached out through the speakers with gripping hands of fuzzed guitars, grabbed my ears in their icy death-grip and pulled me right back through the circuitry into their insanely hip world of retro-fuzz. stoner-fied, acid-garage mania. A three-piece of brothers Kyle Byrum on guitars and vocals, Kraig Byrum on drums, along with Karl Benge on bass, The White Soots first came to my attention from all the love the fine gents at The Soda Shop have showered on them over the months. And let me tell you, the Soda Shop boys were right. The lava lamp has gone and completed exploded all over these guys.
'60's speed-cranked, retro garage fuzz dominates this blissfully deranged psychedelic haze of pop concoctions. Kyle lets loose hallucination-inducing rivers of guitar solos (as on "If I Go") that are enough to cause cosmic waves to collide in time warped tunnels of psych madness. The Black Keys are here. The White Stripes wish they could be. But don't let all this talk of garage-psych madness put you off, the boys channel enough retro-R&B into their songwriting menagerie to bust out numbers like "Don't Shoot" and "You're Evil," or the pure groovy, gotta-bust-out-my-bell-bottoms hipster-vibe of "Watch the Horizon." Monster-extended, JPT Scare Band-worthy jams like the 11 minute "Give Me Back My Land," and it's fuzz, senses-shattering guitar assault sit comfortably right next to 2 minute plus primal-garage pop stompers like "Where Did You Go." No matter how you slice it, you can't lose.
Thee Nosebleeds - S/T
Now that The White Soots dropped us off in the garage, we may as well stay there, crawling way to the back underneath the rusting piles of moth-holed radiators, oil-stained rags, and sludge-crusted carburetors. Somewhere back there, behind the moldy stack of semen-stained porn magazines you'll find Thee Nosebleeds, doing their damndest to not impress anyone.
Guitars whiz by like drive-by shootings. Drums dissolve into the mix like acid melting through '70's worn vinyl. There's a bass there . . . somewhere, or so I'm told. Probably hiding behind the draino-ate-my-trachea vocals. And amongst all this chaos, you'll find a freaking gem of cocaine-garage punk like "South Street Shooting Spree," or the bathtub-brewed meth speed punk fest of "As Fast as You Can." These guys are so grizzled they eat razor blades for breakfast and spit out metal links that they somehow chain together into remarkably catchy songs like the chemical-freak meets The Ramones blitz of "Kill Kill Rock N Roll/Miss West Philly USA." "Pigfoot's Revenge," works a belligerent blues riff into the mix, while "Motormouth" is simply 440 horse power garage gun metal punk at it's finest.
I couldn't be happier that this album didn't come as a "scratch and sniff" cause there just ain't no part of me that want's to know what these guys smell like. But listening's just fine.
(1) New Email: “I don’t know if it is your style or not, but give it a try.”
My instinctual response was “oh dear..” but I downloaded it anyway and ran out of the door as I was once again going to be late... Fast forward a few days and I find the EP whilst cleaning my download folder. Hitting play I am thinking I may need to admit to myself that I actually enjoy this sort of music more than I like to think I do...
Campaign’s Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! Beetlejuice! is punk. It doesn’t have punk “flavor”, it is punk. The heavy vocals, heavy guitar, and heavy drums might deter some, but it is very neatly pulled together to sound intricate and interesting.
My favorite song of the album is “Old Haunts” and I personally think it is a great way to open. The music sounds as if it could have coped on its own, without the vocals, it is very well played and varied. That being said, the vocals are really what top “Old Haunts” and the whole EP if fact. Catchy lyrics too-
“I tell myself the score is worth settling, Til I almost believe the lies that I’m peddling”
“Old Thrills” reminds me of those people in bars who progressively get louder and louder and think they are cooler and cooler... That mental image is probably fueled by the chorus which is sung louder and rougher than the rest of the song, with lyrics that read,
“After last call, I'll drink with the fishes I'll end this drink's life You'll be the witness.”
“Old Blues” has the good, rough music that provides the canvas for the lyrics that take the picture from black and white to colored -
“Out of time, burned out too soon, Born to lose, blacked out and blue”
“Old Mess” closes off the album. Some of the lyrics hit a personal soft spot of mine, making it even more enjoyable to listen to.
“So call me up when you are feeling low, Because we both know That you felt like a notch on my belt, But you stayed anyway”
To be frank, after these four songs you are left wanting more. Overall an enjoyable EP by a band that knows how to pull it all together.
Is Loafass the best punk from Philadelphia since Homo Picnic? Most likely, seeing as there’s not much competition in the city of brotherly lunch these days. Loafass has been around for many years and they’re not getting any better looking or mature, but they are kicking more ass than ever before. Smoke & Mirrors is their latest and greatest release in a long history of juvenile punk rock noises.
If you’ve ever been to Philadelphia, you’ve no doubt seen these ridiculous duck shaped buses that can also go in the water. They take tourists around the safer parts of the city. Loafass chose to open their new album with their opinion of these vehicles on the song “Duck Boat.” Starting off like a vintage Cheap Trick song it shifts gears into a flat out punk burner and includes a hot rubber ducky solo. Keeping in the transportation theme, the next song is called “Septa Sucks.” Loafass is not too fond of the Southeastern Pennsylvania Transportation Authority and get their revenge by lifting some riffs from Black Flag’s “Six Pack.”
Apparently all of these transit problems delay Loafass’s main interests that are covered in an excellent triumvirate of songs “Party,” “Cold Beer” and “Super Stoned.” These songs also feature an early Black Flag/Fear influence mixed with other obnoxious punk losers like Angry Samoans, Murphy’s Law, Adrenalin OD and D.O.A. If those songs don’t piss off your old lady then “Tea Bag’n” will for sure, but your friends will love it when you blast it in the car on your late night White Castle run. But the standout song on the album has to be “Escape From New Jersey.” The lyrics are perfect and the 65mph speed limit rock groove provide the perfect soundtrack as you power over the Pulaski Skyway.
Loafass is a very tight, kick ass punk band but are also grounded in classic rock. Most of the songs are fast but usually don’t break into hardcore warp speed. The guitar sound on the album is killer, the drums pound mightily and the bass playing rocks. Vocalist Fish yells harder than former Philly mayor Frank Rizzo when he failed his lie detector test. Hopefully Loafass’s brand of immature punk fury will annoy the lightweights in your life so you can have drink their beer. Play loud, be rude.
Tsurumi Records just knows how to do things right. Spinning on gorgeous marbleized grey and white vinyl right now, is the latest long player from Tsurumi’s Second Academy with main man Eric Balaban and his latest masterpiece of sophistico-garage punk, Bohemian Grove. But before we get to the music (which will make me quickly forget everything else I want to say) let’s get back to Tsurumi. In a very short period of time, the good folk of Tsurumi have solidified their vision of how to unleash quality music and product onto the music loving world. Plying their Japan-meets-America-via-Seattle-Silk-Road of inspired primal-punkish rock, Tsurumi may only have 4 releases under their belts, but what releases they are. Between Eric Balaban’s Beautiful Mothers or Second Academy, or the Japanese art-punk of Golden, each release is done right. In addition to the gorgeous platter hypnotizing me on the turntable right now, the album comes with a quality pressed cover, a way-cool glossy insert, a glossy poster, and forget the download code, these cats include the entire CD in the package. How’s that for doing it right?
Ok, so enough about them, let’s get to the music, shall we? I’ve already expressed my man-love for Eric’s prior work with the Beautiful Mothers and the first, rather stripped down, Second Academy record. Truth be told, however, I really didn’t know what to expect with this new release. Joined by Brent Powell on bass, and Troy Lund/and Rob Wheeler on drums, I didn’t know if Eric could continue to captivate me. Whether his Replacements-stripped garage-punk could continue to elevate itself to new heights. To grow . . . to expand.
Oh, simple-minded me.
If anything, Bohemian Grove not only builds upon what the lads created with the first album, it represents a quantum leap in maturity, songwriting, playing, production and just about any other aspect of an album you can think of. Simply put, this is one fantastic record. If you’re a fan of acoustic-laced, powerpop fueled, amphetamine garage-based rock, (think The Replacements,The Violent Femmes, early Who) then you owe it to yourself . . . nay, you owe it to mankind to check this album out.
I understand that the album is named Bohemian Grove after the title track, but damn if I don’t want to constantly write Bohemian GROOVE because that's what this album does. It grooves. It sways, it rumbles and rocks with a constant, head-nodding, toe-tapping groove of solid rhythm, killer melodies, perfect-scratchy riffs, and damn fine songwriting. Expect a spot on my Top 10 of 2011 for this one.
Right from the start, Bohemian Grove captured my attention. The title track trods out of the speakers with an ominous weight, sounding like some meaty 1960’s beat-cool, retro-groovy punk rocker. The bass and drums are just monstrous here. I keep getting this image of some darkened ‘60’s Batman theme going on here, as if the Dark Knight existed back then taking on the Joker. Way cool. Way, way cool. Eric’s voice is inspired, harmony vocals bringing everything to the front. Fuzz guitar wails through the mix as that damn fine GROOVE just tears the song to pieces. Infinitely cool.
For this album, Eric upped the production quite a bit over the really stripped first Second Academy record. That’s not to say this album is glossy, it’s not. But it is full and warm. A rich sound that really compliments the songs, fills them out. It works.
“Like the Rich,” is a Jonathan Richman or Paul Westerberg love song classic. Sung with total honestly, yet tongue in cheek at the same time, Eric extols the virtues of throwing off the drapery of the “poor artist” and getting rich. “She says I only want to get by/I say Fuck That!/I wanna get a rock for my baby/I wanna get a stick for my baby/I wanna get a knife for my lady/I wana get a house for my baby/and have a good time/like the rich do.” All played over a slicing acoustic guitar riff and and some killer electric guitar searing flourishes. Again, the GROOVE is there. Have I said yet that this album grooves?
“Lullaby for the Divorced” ups the ante with it’s big-time retro, surf meets garage riffage and swing. Totally retro but current. The kids are going crazy at the hop or the Go-Go to this song. Wild bikini’s are doing the swim, guys are acting cool, but everyone is losing themselves in the abandon of the groove. Oh yes, there’s that word again.
The final cut on side 1, “Perfectly Wrong,” is quite simply one of the best songs that the early Who never played, but wrote with Paul Westerburg and played with the help of the Femmes. Big guitars fly in Townsend-ian whirling waves, and if that isn’t a melody that should have dominated the airwaves in the mid ‘60’s, then I’ve never heard one. But listen closely to this one and “Lullaby” before it and you’ll see that these aren’t retro classics, they’re fully modern. Pete Townsend never wrote about getting drunk in the afternoon or how her avoiding his phone calls was perfectly wrong. Or the simply purity of allowing two people to divorce because nothing good can ever come from bad love. It all just shows how much Eric has grown as a songwriter.
So, if I was a fan of the first Second Academy album (and the rougher Beautiful Mothers), with Bohemian Grove, Eric has made a true believer out of me. With any righteous divination, Eric will find his place in the revered ranks of gritty but pretty songwriters, like Westerburg or Richman (or Townsend, for that matter).
In a world where every square inch of my office is covered with vinyl, and I measure an album's worth by whether or not it deserves to occupy my valuable shelf space, this is an album, I’m proud to have in my collection.
It raw. It’s very rough. The live footage is ragged and that’s about the best compliment you can pay it. And truthfully, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
There just aren’t too many video documents of the underground punk scene in LA in the early ‘80’s, and as such this “history lesson” is nearly indispensable. With live footage and interviews from members of The Meat Puppets, Redd Kross, The Minutemen, and Twisted Roots, we get a celebratory cross-section of the underground scene in all it’s grimy, gritty, unwashed glory.
Again, from a musical standpoint, don’t go expecting surround 5.1 dolby here. The footage is ample and exciting, but it’s rough. Shot on low-budget gear with a no-budget production, expect feedback, distortion, fuzz, and all around noise. Now, none of that is to say that its not what the bands actually sounded like at the time. But on your DVD player and killer surround, just be prepared.
Still, the live footage is exciting and captures the energy of the bands, the passion they brought to their music, the pure punk spirit. A special nod has to go to the live footage of the Minutemen and the much-missed D Boon, standing larger than life as he presides over his chaotic guitar parts and sputtered vocals. This footage alone makes the set priceless.
With the sound quality being so rough, the real gems here are the interviews, learning how D Boon would randomly place scattered lyrical notes around the apartment for his bandmates to find and turn into songs, learning how the bands interacted, loved each other or hated each other, banded to be a part of the SST scene or shunned it. Anyone who was a part of the scene, or remembers it, or is just curious will learn lots here.
I was lucky enough to be a radio DJ in Los Angeles back in the day and remember this stuff coming into the station straight off the street. There was a palpable buzz when ever the new Minutemen record came in. I dug on Redd Kross and the rest of the Enigma stuff. The Meat Puppets blew minds. Bands like that just didn't come around everyday.
No matter how you look at it, it was a vibrant and exciting scene that gave rise to some majorly revered legends who’ve contined to inspire bands today.
When I was a kid, growing up in a house with Cat Stevens, Neil Diamond, and Simon and Garfunkel, the first time I ever heard Kiss's "Detroit Rock City," it was a moment of musical epiphany. It was just so vicious, aggressive and mean. It changed the way I listened to music. I've had a few minor epiphany's since then, when you come across a band that just brings something new and revolutionary to your ears. What have been your musical epiphany moments?
Ace Facial- The first one hit when I was five years old watching a kind of children's educational show. The show detailed the career of The Beatles and it changed me forever. They are the reason I picked up an instrument. The next big hit came when I saw a picture of The Specials and Madness and thought they looked cool. As soon as I heard them I was in! I ran out and bought a pork pie and wing tips and all the clothes. Since I lived in Riverside County as a teenager, dressed as the only imitation mod within 100 miles, I was regularly beaten by my contemporaries and my dad. As these regular beatings started to affect my outlook on society, so too, they affected my musical tastes. Punk and aggressively rebellious Rock started to appeal to me on a much higher level. Those three phases or "epiphany's" helped define who I am today.
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?
Ace- The riff or melody almost always comes first. I don't remember a song where lyrics came first. Once I have the music, I'll record it at my little home studio then start in with the lyrics.
Who has influenced you the most?
Ace- Musically, my heros are the ones who provided those "epiphany moments". The Beatles, Madness, The Jam, The Clash, Small Faces, The Who, AC/DC...
Where do you look for continuing inspiration? New ideas, new motivation?
Ace- I'm still getting mileage from The Who, The Clash and AC/DC somehow. After years of listening to them, they still do it for me. Inspiration always comes ccidentally, I never look for it... Recently, my inspiration lyrically came from my experiences growing up in Lake Elsinore, California. The entire new record deals with it. I hated every minute of that place, but I had a good time thinking back and writing about it. The subject matter on the new album came fluidly because it was so inspired.
Genre's are so misleading and such a way to pigeonhole bands. Without resorting to labels, how would you describe your music?
Ace- It's just Punk Rock. Is that a label? I liked it when we were called "The bastard sons of AC/DC and The Pogues."
What is you musical intention? What are you trying to express or get your audience to feel?
Ace- I'm doing this for the fun of it. It may be a shallow goal but all I want people to get out of the Mugs is something to smile to and get some aggro out. If I ever think of something more important than trying to make people happy, I may write about that. As for now, all I've got is 'Up In The Downs'.
Come on, share with us a couple of your great, Spinal Tap, rock and roll moments?
Ace- I've got so many. Joey with his cold sores, Matt freaking out and smashing the van's door in because someone drank his bottled water, Timbecile's pod malfunctioning and trapping him inside during a show... No wait, that last one was another band.
My favorite tour stories, and I'll give you a very condensed version, are when we hold court. When someone violates a band rule, like masturbating on someone else's sleeping bag or burning holes in the van's seats (both are real cases brought against Conk), we have him plead his case while the other band members act as prosecution, judge and jury. On both mentioned cases, I was prosecution, Joey was judge and the others were jury. I gave my opening statements and Conk followed with the best defense he could muster. I was proud of my work in finding the inconsistencies in his story and the jury found him guilty on both charges. Conk was convicted and is no longer allowed to touch anybody's sleeping bags or play with a lighter in the van. Forever! If he violates these rules, the entire band gets to punch him as hard as they want in the leg or arm. The punishments may seem barbaric but I hope you're never the victim of something like this! If you've got a better way of dealing with a chronic masturbator or pyromaniac in a band setting, I'm all ears!
What makes a great song?
Ace- If it moves you in a great way.
Tell us about the first song you ever wrote?
Ace- I wrote a ska song when I was about 12 called "My Grandma". I played and sang it into a tape recorder and gave it to my grandmother for her birthday. I don't remember her reaction to it but I'm sure the song was pure class! What piece of your music are particularly proud of?
Ace- I'm not really proud of any one song I've written. I've never realized that until just now, this moment. I've written songs that I like to play or listen to but... I'm very proud of our new album! No single song jumps out at me, but I'm intensely happy with this album as a whole. Man, that sounds so cliche but it's the truth. Who today, writes great songs? Who just kicks your ass? Why?
Ace- The Aggrolites write really cool tunes. There are some good bands around but I haven't heard any contemporary song that really hits me.
Vinyl, CD, or digital? What's your format of choice?
Ace- Vinyl!
Whiskey or beer? And defend your choice
Ace- Jameson whisky, because I can drink myself into a coma and still feel great the next day. I get headaches the day after a crazy night of beer drinking.
We, at the Ripple Effect, are constantly looking for new music. What's your home town, and when we get there, what's the best record store to lose ourselves in?
Ace- In Los Angeles, Headline Records and Amoeba Records will keep you pretty busy. Both carry alot of independent music and rare vinyl.
Any final comments or thoughts you'd like to share with our readers, the waveriders?
Ace- Yes. Come be friends with us on facebook and let us know why Timbecile is your least favorite Mug!
Agent Orange, California's influential punk/surf power trio, has been around longer than its loyal following can even remember. Formed in Orange County, California in 1979, Agent Orange immediately gained attention thanks to the band’s revolutionary, unique mix of punk rock and surf music. Often considered underrated to this very day, Agent Orange is back at it, having recently released Halloween Single and now hitting the road and coming back North after several years of absence.
Agent Orange will tour Canada with Montreal grunge metallers Slaves on Dope. The famed Canadian nu metal band reformed in 2009 when its founding members, Jason Rockman (Vocals) and Kevin Jardine (guitars), chose to reunite after a five year hiatus and begin work on their third studio album, "Over the Influence."
Slaves On Dope vocalist Jason Rockman comments. ''Kevin and I have been hard at work for the last 2 years. We believe that we have written the most honest and aggressive slaves album yet! We can't wait to unleash these songs on the world, and see what happens."
It was a lovely, tranquil day. The sun was shining, the temperature was balmy, and there were only a few puffy clouds disrupting the clear blue sky. Not bad. Not bad at all. Shortly after noontime, I set out to make myself lunch. Just after I put the finishing touches on a delightful sandwich the phone started to ring. I checked the caller ID and recognized the name of a friend on the LCD, so I picked up the handset.
“Hey there stranger. What’s going on?” “Penfold, dude! You’ve got to help me man!” “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down. What’s happened?” “I don’t know man, I don’t know! But something is seriously wrong!” “Okay, are you in any danger right now?” “No, I don’t think so.” “All right. Take a deep breath, relax a little bit, and tell me what happened. I’ll help you any way that I can.” “Thanks Penfold. You’re a true friend man. Well…everything was normal when I woke up this morning. Nothing was out of the ordinary. But then I listened to this album and my world turned upside down.” “Uh, huh. I see. Music can certainly have that effect. Believe me, I know. So what album was it that created such turmoil?” “That is the strangest aspect of this whole thing! You remember that music label Victory Records?” “Yeah, I’ve never really had any use for that label. In fact, not to badmouth them or anything, but I can’t remember a band or artist signed to that label that I’ve cared for at all. Not one.” “Exactly dude, exactly! None of the music released by that label has ever excited my interest either. It’s not terrible music, just not what I’m looking to listen to during my free time you know?” “We agree there. So what does this have to do with your situation?” “Everything man! I put on the latest album from Comeback Kid, a group signed to Victory Records, and the world went nuts!”
“Okay. What do you mean the world went nuts?” “Don’t laugh Penfold. I know you too well. You’ll think I’m kidding, but I’m totally serious!” “I promise, I won’t laugh. Now give me some examples of the world unhinged.” “All right, all right. You remember that I live on a farm right?” “Of course. How could I forget? I visited you there just a couple of months ago.” “Oh yeah, I forgot. Well anyway, when I played this music, I felt a shift in reality. Kind of like an earthquake or something. I walked into the kitchen and my dogs were sitting at the kitchen table smoking cigars and playing poker! I know you’ve seen that painting. That was near identical to the scene in front of me.” “Now hold on a…” “And that was not the strangest part. I backed out of the kitchen into my living room, and looked out the window towards the barnyard. My pigs had sprouted wings and were flying around their pigpen. Flying dude, flying! And to top that off the doors on my barn were swinging open. I knew I had locked them the previous night, so I ran out to see if something unwanted was inside the barn. When I entered the barn I found a stairway leading straight down that was lit by torches. I don’t have a basement in my barn man! I can’t explain why, but I decided to descend the stairs. In no time, I came to a door. When I opened the door, I saw Hell!”
“You saw Hell?” “Yep.” “Was it hot?” “Oh, it was hot alright. It was a hot mess! Everything was frozen over!” “Are you sure you took your medication this morning?” “Penfold, you know that I don’t take any meds man. You know that!” “You’re right, man. I’m sorry. I just…” “Forget it man. You won’t understand until you hear these songs.” “Okay, okay. I’ll listen to the album.” “You do that man. Do that, and call me back!”
That was how I found myself seeking out a copy of Comeback Kid’sSymptoms And Cures. It was easy enough to find, and I quickly loaded it into my media player and hit play. Talk about a surprise! What I said before to my friend was true. I’ve never cared for music from Victory Records, so I was caught completely flat footed when this band began their musical onslaught. And make no mistake, it is an onslaught!
Comeback Kid plays a fiery brand of hardcore / punk music. But is it melodic hardcore? Is it straight hardcore? How punk is it? Who cares!? These songs are musical wrecking balls, and that is all that really matters. Right out of the gate the full fury of this band is unleashed. I knew almost instantly that I needed to throw my preconceived notions right out the window where they could plummet several stories to their timely demise. The album opens with the one-two punch of “Do Yourself a Favor” and “Crooked Floors”. Both of these songs begin with high tempo passages designed to give the listener the lay of the land. To be honest, I was expecting this aspect. What I did not expect however was for the band to transition, slow things down a bit, and let the two guitarists drop Hammer of Thor riffs that come out of nowhere. Before I knew it, my head was banging forward and back violently, and I was powerless to stop it. Seriously; those righteous, meaty guitar tones; give me a break!
The album progressed and more and more highlights emerged. “Because of All the Things You Say”, “Balance”, and “Magnet Pull” each deliver a bit more melodicism while maintaining their sharp, diamond-cut edge. In fact, I would have to say that “Balance” might just be my favorite track off the album. That was a tough call with all the other strong tracks on offer. There is just something about the vocal variety, uplifting (at least to me) guitar lines, solid rhythm section work, and numerous tempo changes that takes top honors from this listener. Another standout is “Manifest”. Unlike some of the other noted songs, this one unflinchingly begins at warp speed and never lets its foot slide off the accelerator. In a word, brutal! It was time to give my friend a call back.
“Hey Penfold, did you listen to the album?” “Yeah I did! You were absolutely right. This album is terrific!” “Crazy right?” “You know it! I never would have expected this from Victory Records. I suppose this is a lesson, teaching me once again to never rely on my assumptions. They almost always end up wrong.” “Boy howdy, I know what you mean. So…have you noticed anything strange?” “Well, nothing like what you told me about. I mean I don’t live on a farm, so there are no flying pigs, and I don’t own any dogs so there are none around my kitchen table playing cards. Looking around I don’t notice…” “Penfold? You there man?” “Penfo…” “Yeah man, I’m here. Listen, I’ve got to go. Something has happened.” “What man? What happened!?” “Can’t talk now. I’ll call you later.”
The fact that this book even exists should motivate you to buy a copy. If you know who Cheetah Chrome is, then you know that he’s a true rock & roll wildman who’s lived a lot harder than you ever will. He’s survived drugs, alcohol, Stiv Bators, Cleveland, New York City and then some. The dude deserves the happy life and family he’s created for himself in Nashville.
Cheetah was born Eugene O’Connor in Cleveland, 1955 and became a rock & roll fan, guitarist and pot smoker at an early age. His musical course was forever changed when his mother bought him the first Stooges album by accident. Young Cheetah’s mind was blown and it put him on a path that eventually led to meeting up with other weirdos in the mythical proto-punk band Rocket From The Tombs. Once that band splintered into Pere Ubu and theDead Boys, Cheetah and his blood brother Stiv Bators went on to create one of the most full-on high energy punk rock bands of all time.
Cheetah pulls no punches in his autobiography. He’s very forthcoming about all the horrible things he’s done to himself and to others. The chapters on his years as a junkie are harrowing and an excellent deterrent for anyone considering dabbling in that area. So many of his friends and collaborators are dead and gone – Stiv, Johnny Thunders, Jerry Nolan, Dee Dee Ramone, John Belushi, Nico, etc and there’s no real reason why Cheetah’s still around other than being a tough mother fucker.
But the best parts of the book are the hilarious situations he’s gotten into over the years. Even as a kid in the audience he managed to make an impact. For instance, he once gave his hero Iggy Pop a bunch of free downers before a Stooges show only for Iggy to turn into an incoherent mess onstage. There are plenty of sex, drugs and rock & roll stories from the 1977 ground zero days at CBGB and tours with fellow mental patients The Damned. As debauched as some of the tales are, you definitely get the feeling that a lot of the gory details have been left out.
Even if you’re not a fan of the Dead Boys or punk rock in general, this book is a must read for any music fanatic. I was lucky enough to witness most of theDead Boys reunion shows at the Ritz in NYC and his band the Ghetto Dogs a few times. Cheetah was always a completely inspiring lunatic on the stage. On a more personal note, as a young dipshit coming into NYC on the weekends to see shows and buy records I used to see the street walking Cheetah all the time in the early to mid-80’s. He was usually nice enough to stop and talk to me and answer all my moronic questions about the Dead Boys or which MC5 albums I should track down (“all of them” he told me). Some days Cheetah didn’t look so good and I knew to stay the fuck away. Long live Cheetah!
