AD DEADLINE ISSUE #28August 1st, 2005ISSUE #29October 1st, 2005

Email retodded@razorcake.comfor rates and full details.

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Cover photograph taken by Megan Pants

Contact Razorcake: Todd: retodded@razorcake.com Sean: sean@razorcake.com

IIt’s never been easy. On average, I put sixty to seventy hours aweek into Razorcake. Basically, our crew does something that’snot supposed to happen. Our budget is tiny. We operate out of a

small apartment with half of the front room and a bedroom convertedinto a full-time office. We all work our asses off. In the past ten years,I’ve learned how to fix computers, how to set up networks, how to trou-bleshoot software. Not because I want to, but because we don’t have themoney to hire anybody to do it for us. The stinky underbelly of DIY isfinding out that you’ve got to master mundane and difficult things whenyou least want to.

Co-founder Sean Carswell and I went on a weeklong tour with ourfriend and talented poet James Jay up the West Coast, to Seattle andback. It was more like a vacation where we all got to talk about writingand then read our stories to people. Some places, two people showed up.And we read to them. What are we? Rockstars? One show got cancelled.A couple of shows were packed. We skated. We drank. A really cool guymade a Razorcake Wrestling Federation t-shirt for us.

The day I returned was terrible. All of the computers were down. Thewebsite took a header. I’d just driven six hours on little sleep and all Iwanted to do was lie down and face it the next day. Over the next sevendays, I scaled that shitberg, found out that our DSL company changedpasswords on us again, without notification. Found out that network cardscan get fried. Found out that things out of our control fritzed out. All onthe same day. A perfect technical storm. It took a week to get back to zero.

I look at putting Razorcake together as a marathon with one leg tiedto an anvil and folks constantly throwing javelins at us. It’s a daily reg-imen. Melt the glacier. Dripping water puts holes in rocks.

So, I worked for twenty days straight with only one full day off. Whyput myself through what sounds like self-inflicted torture? This Is MyFist!, who were on our last cover, gave me my most recent affirmation.

Yesterday, some of us had helped our friend Chris move, and before wemoved his stereo, we played the Rhythm Chicken’s new 7”. In the paus-es between furious Chicken overtures, a guy yelled, “Hooray!” We hadadopted our battle call.

That evening, a couple bottles of whiskey later, after great sets byGiant Haystacks and the Abi Yoyos, after one of our crew projectilevomited with deft precision and another crewmember suffered a poten-tially broken collarbone, This Is My Fist! took to the six-inch stage atThe Poison Apple in L.A. We yelled and danced so much that stiff peo-ple with sourpusses on their faces slunk to the back. We incited under-aged hipster dancing. We yelled the shit out of “Hooray!” while raisingour arms in perpetual touchdowns. Between songs, Annie the singer andguitarist for TIMF! asked, “What are you saying?”

We responded, arms aloft, in rough unison, “Hooray!”“Hooray?” she said smiling, “Nobody says hooray any more.” We continued “hooray”ing during every song. And we tried to dance

as hard as we had worked. We yelled hooray! so long and so hard thatTIMF! played a genuinely spontaneous encore, partially inspired, I wassure at the time, by my hoarse and insightful calling for, “Play one fromthe seven inch that you haven’t played yet!” And they did and it ruled. Ihaven’t seen so many of my friends smiling at the same time for ages. Itwas sweaty-perfect.

After the set ended and we filtered out, we made our designated driv-er do some barrel dancing to prove she could drive home safely. The bar-rel dancing was shaky, but the ride home was laser-true. On the ridehome, it hit me, just like the cool air rushing in from the rolled-downwindow: don’t let everyday toil leak the air out of your fun. Work hardat finding, and keeping, what makes you happy… even if you feel likeyou’re staring at the bottom of the shitberg and can’t even see the top.

–Todd

Thank you list: Vans held together with pickle jar lids thanks to ScottStanton for the This Bike Is a Pipebomb interview and paintings;Goddamn that�s a lotta duct tape thanks to Saucecherry for the TBI-APB photos; Shooting craps on a stop sign thanks to Ryan Leach andMor Fleischer for the Paul Roessler interview; A bandana AND a mustache AT THE SAME TIME thanks to Jenny Lens for her PaulRoessler photos; Decapitating little kids with drumsticks thanks to Rawl Power for his Paul Roessler photo; Burritos plus punk showsequals HOLY SHIT thanks to Sean Koepenick for the Routineers interview; Stages made of cinder blocks thanks to Ted Tuel for theRoutineers photos; Ketchup and mustard on a cake thanks to Amy Adoyzie for her illustrations and laying out the Routineers interview;�Just rock and roll and the truth� thanks to Jennifer Whiteford for her all-girl band movies article; Kinda looks like Kenny Rogers thanksto Mitch Clem for the illustration in Josh�s column; Band-aid covered nipple thanks to Terry Rentzepis for his illustration in Liz O.�s col-umn; Here comes the summer thanks to Chris Pretti for the Undertones photo; As if the guy from the Weird Lovemakers could teachsomebody guitar thanks to Jason Willis for his comic strip; Jukebox full of Irish jigs thanks to Jim Ruland, Sr., for letting us use his photo;Pants as diapers thanks to Julia Smut for laying out the Bloodbath and Beyond interview; Seriously like this fucking close to hatingeverything forever but plowing along anyway thanks to Chris Pepus, Ty Forslund, Keith Rosson, Ben Snakepit, Speedway Randy, Mr. Z.,Josh Benke, Jimmy Alvarado, Donofthedead, Jessica Thiringer, Newtim, Cuss Baxter, Kat Jetson, The Lord Kveldfur, Puckett, AphidPeewit, Denise Orton, and Brian Mosher for their various and sundry reviews of stuff; Jeff Fox for all the tough love, the joining of wid-ows and orphans, and candid advice in exchange for beer brats; Naked Rob, Brad at Confounded Books, Chloe at Reading Frenzy,Mark Halvorsen, Vanessa Burt, and Gary Accident Prone, for making our roads a little less weary.

Speedway Randy. Poor Man’s Sparks: Emergen-C in beer.

Razorcake is bi-monthly. Issues are $3.00 ppd. in the US. Yearly subscriptions (six issues) are $15.00 bulk rate or $21.00 first class mail. Plus you get some free shit. Theseprices are only valid for people who live in the US and are not in prison. Issues and subs are more for everyone else (because we have to pay more in postage). Write us andwe’ll give you a price. Prisoners may receive free single issues of Razorcake solely via Books to Prisoners, 92 Pike St., Box A, Seattle, WA 98101. Want to distributeRazorcake in the United States? The minimum order is five issues. You have to prepay. For $10.00, you’ll receive five copies of the same issue, sent to you when we do ourmailout to all of our distros, big and small. Email retodded@razorcake.com for all the details.

4 Liz O. Guerrilla My Dreams7 Art Fuentes Shizzville8 Jim Ruland Lazy Mick12 Designated Dale I’m Against It14 Nardwuar The Human Serviette Who Are You?19 Jason Willis Satisfaction at No Cost20 Rev. Nørb Love, Nørb24 Josh Lane Kind of a Sewer 28 Gary Hornberger Squeeze My Horn30 Sean Carswell A Monkey to Ride the Dog32 The Rhythm Chicken The Dinghole Reports37 Chrystaei Branchaw’s Photo Page Ben Sankepit flew to Japan again. He’ll be double-featured next issue.

38 Routineers by Sean Koepenick44 This Bike Is a Pipebomb by Scott Stanton52 The Observers by Josh58 Paul Roessler by Ryan Leach64 All-Girl Bands on the Big Screen

70 Bloodbath and Beyond by Megan Pants

76 Record A Hectare of Honkies...104 Zine Not using that goddamn Courier font would have helped...108 Book I can't spell "bourgeois" without using spell-check...112 Video Soooo beyond being labeled as shit...

COLUMNSWE DO OUR PART

INTERVIEWSANDFEATURES

REVIEWS

PO Box 42129, Los Angeles, CA 90042www.razorcake.com

Razorcake/ Gorsky, Inc. Board of Directors are: Todd Taylor, Sean Carswell, Dan Clarke, Katy Spining, Leo Emil Tober IIIThis issue of Razorcake and www.razorcake.com were put together by Todd Taylor, Sean Carswell, Josh Lane, Megan Pants, Skinny Dan, Amy Adoyzie, Julia Smut, Chris Devlin, and Bradley Williams.

Individual opinions expressed within are not necessarily those of Razorcake/Gorsky, Inc.

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Issue #27 August / September 2005

article by Jennifer Whiteford

64

DDriving across the San Fernando Valleyin rush hour traffic, I popped in a cassettecopy of Strangeways Here We Come, thefinal Smiths album. It is the same copy thatI purchased at Sam Goody in theNorthridge Mall some fifteen years earlier.I went in to buy Viva Hate, Morrissey’s firstsolo album, after hearing him interviewedon KROQ while my mom was driving meto the orthodontist. The salesperson, a col-lege-aged guy with oversized glasses andone of those really loud print shirts thathave not been in fashion since 1989, toldme that I needed to get a Smiths album aswell because the Smiths were “like the bestband ever.” His recommendation, TheQueen Is Dead, was out of stock, so Ipicked up Strangeways. An hour later, inmy bedroom, Strangeways Here We Cometied The Cure’s Disintegration for the titleof my favorite album of all time. Little haschanged since.

I had not listened to this tape in years,given that I now have the album on severalformats. I thought it might unravel themoment I put it into the tape deck. I waswrong. The songs fade away in certainplaces now—and there are tin soundswhere tin sounds should not exist—but it isstill audible. So I followed the motion oftraffic at 5:00 p.m.—accelerate, brake,repeat—and tried to figure out why I endedup being one of those diehard Morrisseyfans who only seem to exist in L.A. thesedays. I thought about how oppressive themusic felt and tried to relate to feelingtrapped by the surrounding mountains andsmog that was particularly ugly on this day.I thought about it in relationship to beingan adolescent misfit. Then I realized that,in true music journalist fashion, I was read-ing way too much into Morrissey’s cata-logue. The simple truth was, I just wantedMorrissey. Bad.

I wanted Morrissey in ways that ateenage girl from a Catholic school, wheresex ed was limited to pictures of botchedabortions, could not fathom. This mighthave been obvious to everyone around mewhen I ceremoniously replaced my BopMagazine posters of a seemingly innocentCorey Haim with visions of a shirtlessMorrissey taken from the video for

“November Spawned a Monster” or when Icame home from his concert with a t-shirtbearing a half-naked Moz and captioned“The Motorcycle Au Pair Boy.” I had noidea what a motorcycle au pair boy was, butit didn’t really matter.

In June of 1991, Morrissey playedPacific Amphitheatre in Costa Mesa,California. This was his first jaunt to LosAngeles without the Smiths and my firstconcert. I was fourteen years old and twoweeks away from graduating junior highschool. My mom and aunt accompaniedmy sister and me, which is not as embar-rassing as it seems since I made both dressin black and Mom did have purple hair atthe time. Besides, there was no way wewould have made it down to OrangeCounty without them.

The lights dimmed and the crowd chant-ed “Morrissey” for what seemed like aneternity. I took shallow, anxious breaths andstood on my toes to look for him. My kneeslocked in fear; could this really be as amaz-ing as I imagined? I held my breath andhalf-shivered, as though I had jumped intocold water. This is it. This is it. This is it.

I felt it the very second he stepped ontothat stage, a deep pressure that was all con-suming. I curled my toes so that the stock-ing-clad tips burrowed into the soles of myMary Janes and gasped.

“Oh, my God.”There he was: all floppy hair with his

scrawny frame visible through a sheerblouse. From about fifteen rows back, Icould not see the piercing blue of his eyes,but I could feel that gaze bore through mychest as he sang “Piccadilly Palare.”

I didn’t want to scream at first, so Iclutched the handle of my metal-trimmedblack lunchbox as tight as possible. I feltthe groove of the handle dig into my palmas my fingertips tingled. An attempt tomaintain some sense of composure leftme aching.

My screams were muffled by the similarsounds surrounding me, but they wereloud, passionate howls that came straightfrom the gut and rubbed my vocal chordsraw. I danced frantically, pulling at mybobbed hair while trying not to avert myeyes from the stage. But there were times

when I had to look away because staringproved too intense.

I wanted to run up towards the stage likethe kids in the pit did. I wanted to feel thesweat off of his stomach as he writhed andgrab a piece of the shirt that was, ten min-utes into the performance, dangling fromhis wrists. However, there was a hulkingguard watching the gate that stood fiverows in front of me and no way I couldpass around him. I had to keep my lust at adistance.

When the show ended, forty-five minutesand no encore later, I could barely stand, letalone speak. I smirked through a mess ofhair that had grown curly and damp withhumidity for the rest of the night, feelingkind of rebellious, kind of like an adult. Iprobably should have gone to confessionfor the great sin of dirty thoughts involvinga sexually ambiguous Englishman, but Ididn’t like church much in the first place, soI called my best friend.

“Morrissey is the celibate sex god!”I exclaimed.

She laughed. “That’s the most ridiculousthing I ever heard.”

It sounds terrible to admit that I took aserious musician like Morrissey and com-pletely objectified him. I was a smart girlwith a growing interest in feminism and,really, I should have known better. Right?But Morrissey offered something that Icould not find in my own neighborhood.

For the past eight years, I had attended asmall parochial school and, by the time ofour graduation, our class of thirty consistedof eight boys. All eight boys were Napoleonshort and had somehow been inspired byStraight Outta Compton to embark on aquest for street credibility, regardless of thefact that they rolled up to school in mom’sBenz and upgraded Air Jordan models morethan annually. There was no way I could doanything other than laugh at them.

Likewise, Morrissey was the antithesis ofteenage heartthrobs. He was not a clean-cutboy-next-door, like New Kids On TheBlock, nor was he a longhaired dude a laAxl Rose. He was something that the suitsnever would have imagined marketing tofourteen-year-olds. In interviews,Morrissey would proclaim a preference for

"Well, maybe if youdidn't have such shittytaste in music, theywould have paidattention to you.”

LIZ O

ecause Sometimes You Need a Celibate Sex God. . .

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GGGGUUUUEEEERRRRRRRRIIIILLLLLLLLAAAA MMMMYYYY DDDDRRRREEEEAAAAMMMMSSSS

B

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Illustration by Terry Rentzepis www.alltenthumbs.com

celibacy, marking himself as neitherstraight nor gay. That said, any fancould impart upon him any far offdesire we wished. The mystery justadded to the fan/rock star relation-ship, what Donald Horton and R.Richard Wohl referred to as “paraso-cial interaction” back in 1956.

But what really made me bite mylip and flutter my eyes was thatMorrissey was an intelligent rockstar. Here was a guy who could workKeats, Yeats, and Wilde into onesong, who could make proper use ofthe term “sycophantic” in a sentence.And he did it all with a croon thatsounded like an exquisite heartbreak.

At fourteen, I was a beret-wearing,Sylvia Plath-reading, poetry-scrawl-ing nerd. I had a hard time makingfriends, let alone finding dates. Butlike the wallflowers of romance nov-els who suddenly become confidentand beautiful after a first affair, myfirst concert transformed me from aweird-looking pariah to a social out-cast who was sort of cool. I wouldnever be popular, but at least now Imight be considered interesting.

Two weeks after the Morrisseyshow, I went on the class trip toDisneyland clad in my brand newconcert t-shirt and boasting aMorrissey sticker on my lunchbox.

“You’re going to get in trouble forwearing that shirt,” my best friendwarned, as if I cared about matters ofdress code anymore.

Much to the chagrin of my equallynerdy, yet boy-crazed friends, thehotties from Whittier who we met inline for the Matterhorn spent most ofthe day ignoring them and talking tome. It wasn’t anything major. Wewere just discussing the concert inminute detail and listening toMorrissey’s live KROQ sessions thatI had taped off the radio the nightbefore, but it was enough to drive theother girls into a fit.

Liz and the Whittier Boys becamethe topic of conversation for the two-hour ride home. After listening to astring of remarks so catty that theycould not even qualify as backhand-ed compliments, I put my book downand sat up with all the poise of anadult.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t havesuch shitty taste in music, theywould have paid attention to you.”

I may not have grown moremature through the imagined affairwith a sophisticated Englishman, butnow I could at least put forth the airsof an adult.

–Liz O.

PPart 1 of 3

Punk rock musicians are a lot like mili-tary veterans. No, that’s not a misprint.One of the things I love about Razorcakeinterviews is how the musicians canalways be counted on to tell war storiesabout their adventures on the road and intheir scene. But as soon as the interviewerputs the focus on the music and suggeststhat it’s vital, important or even great, thepunk rockers will deflect the notion withself-deprecating humor or sarcasm, and ifthe interviewer keeps at it the musicianswill get embarrassed or even pissed offand ask them to cut it out. A punk rockmusician will tell you if it was a goodshow or a bad show, but if it was badthey’ll blame themselves and it if was

good they’ll refuse to take credit it for it,they were simply there. And so it is withcombat veterans.

I was born while my father was inVietnam and like most vets, he never real-ly talked about his service—with me oranyone else. All I knew was that he wasthe OINC (Officer in Charge) of a PCF(Patrol Craft Fast or Swift Boat), whichwere much bigger and faster than thePBRs (Patrol Boat River) that ferriedMartin Sheen downriver in ApocalypseNow. When John Kerry made his warrecord in Vietnam a central platform ofhis election campaign last year, SwiftBoats became a household name thanks tothe special interest group that succeededin discrediting John Kerry’s war record.

Suffice to say my father and I have very

different politics, so when he told me hewas a member of the organization I wasstunned. I asked him to explain his rea-sons and he did so in great detail. Thensomething amazing happened. Whiledescribing for me what John Kerry didand did not do while he was in Vietnam,my father started talking about his ownexperiences in the country. I kept askingquestions and he kept answering them,even though we had opposing ideas asto who should be the next Commander-in-Chief.

After the election, the Swift BoatVeterans for Truth had a MissionAccomplished Banquet—at Disney Worldof all places—and my father invited me ashis guest. I went, but I brought my taperecorder with me, and I recorded hours of

“When I left Vietnamthe poker game wasgoing into its third yearof continual operation.”

JIM RULAND

LLAAZZYYYY MMIIIICCKK

WAR STORIES

stories I’d never heard before. I didn’tinterview my father with the idea of pub-lishing it here in Razorcake or anywhereelse for that matter. I did it for personalreasons, but while I was transcribing theinterview I realized there was very littlewar in his war stories, and a whole lot ofdrinking, gambling, and listening tomusic. Sound familiar?

These interviews took place over thecourse of two days at the end of January2005, on the grounds of the DolphinHotel in Orlando, Florida. They begin,appropriately enough, onboard the boatthat ferries hotel guests around a man-made lake.

Lazy Mick: Let’s start with the TullamoreDew story.Jim Ruland: The story begins when youwere conceived and I went to Vietnam andyour mother sent a bottle of TullamoreDew, cleverly concealed inside a loaf ofbread. You have to remember that until afew years ago, the whiskey came in anearthen crock.Lazy Mick: Like a bottle of poteen [Irishmoonshine, pronounced po-cheen.]Jim Ruland: Right. On one side of thecrock it said, “Give every man his dew,”and on the other side it said the same thingonly in Gaelic. So depending on which wayyou faced the crock you could either read itor you couldn’t. When the crock of Irishwhiskey arrived in Vietnam with the noteexplaining that it was to be opened on theoccasion of your birth, it was immediatelyplaced in a conspicuous shelf and for thenext several months all anyone ever didwas look at it, and salivate a little, andrepeat the mantra…Lazy Mick: “Give every man his dew.” Jim Ruland: And then the great day came.I was out on patrol in the southernmostpatrol area, designated 3-India. The mes-sage came over on the radio circuit but itwas encrypted using a code that we wereissued and the code changed every day. Sowhen you went out on patrol you normallyhad two or three days worth of code tableand they were sealed. If your patrol wascurtailed for any reason, then you had toreturn the unused days with the seals intactor otherwise people would say, “What’sthis?” It was never clear to me why we

went through all this trouble since the VietCong were not using any kind of codes.They would be in four-letter groups, andwhen you broke that group it representedone letter in a word. So you can imaginethen if you wanted to say something like“The quick brown fox jumped over thewhatever,” it would take you all day toassemble the code.Lazy Mick: So it kept the crypto-ana-lysts busy.Jim Ruland: When a message was sent, itdidn’t matter whether it was addressed toyou or not, anyone who was out there onthe circuit would have their radiomendecrypt it, not because they were nosey,

although they probably were, but because itwas good training for the radiomen. Theradiomen hated this because there wasnothing that you ever learned from it otherthan the tedium of knowing that todayBravo Tango Foxtrot Echo meant “E.” Sowhen the message came in it was addressedto me personally, which was unusual,because if it were any kind of operationalthing it would be addressed to the unit. Myradioman didn’t need any instruction, butall the radiomen on all the other boats onpatrol were all doing the same damn thing:breaking this message. What the messagesaid when it was decoded was, “To theOfficer-in-Charge of Patrol Craft 41: Youare the father of a son. Mother and sondoing fine.” And it was sent from theAmerican Red Cross. So my crew congrat-ulated me…[At that moment the boat was making itsapproach to the pier and collided with thepiling, sending a mild tremor throughoutthe boat, to which my father responded,“You would think that someone who doesthis everyday would know what they weredoing.” There are few things my fathercan’t abide, bad seamanship being chiefamong them.]Lazy Mick: Back to our story…Jim Ruland: We got a long ways to gobefore our patrol is over. 3-India is thelargest patrol area and everybody hated itbecause it was far away. So after you weredone, you had a good three-plus hours toscoot home. We also hated it because noth-ing ever happened there. A quarter of thepatrol area was where the Air Force had an

R&R (rest and relaxation) center so you felta little bit ridiculous being out there in fullbattle array watching all these Air Forceguys swimming. It made no sense whatso-ever. But the rest of it was more like youwould think it would be, but still we allhated India. So it was a long time out thereand I wasn’t the only one impatient for thepatrol to be over because as the other boatsbroke the encrypted message, they startedsending their own messages to us, and theytoo were all encrypted. At this point theradioman is really hating life, but prettysoon he doesn’t have to break the codegroups anymore because they all said thesame thing: “Give every man his dew.”

Lazy Mick: So my arrival was greatly antic-ipated by the men of Coastal Division 15. Jim Ruland: That’s right. When we getback, it’s the next day. The first thing youdo when you get in from patrol is get theboat ready to go out on patrol because younever know when that’s going to have tohappen. Sometimes even if you weren’tgoing out on patrol, in the middle of thenight you’d have to use them as defensiveweapons. The armaments on the boat werethe only things we had to protect the base.So the first thing you do when you get in isalways the last thing you really felt likedoing, and that’s to re-arm, re-fuel, re-pro-vision and make the boat ready in allrespects to get underway again. Well, atthis point anticipation in our littlemakeshift Officer’s Club had reached feverpitch. The “Give every man his dew” chantwas now almost audible down on the dock.When I finally did come through the door Iwas welcomed with a great cheer and aconspicuous lack of questions about howthe mother was or how the son was, or howmany fingers and toes. The focus was all onthe damn Dew. Once that was done, oncethe crock was cracked, then all the normalkinds of social exchange occurred.Lazy Mick: Great story.Jim Ruland: There’s another that’s almostakin to that, though certainly it’s not asimportant, especially to you, and that wasthe day that a 200-record jukebox arrived atthe Officer’s Club without any records. Wehad this jukebox for about a month but wedidn’t have any records. So after severalweeks of looking at this state-of-the-art

9

Sometimes the poker game stoppedbecause the base would get overrun,

but everyone would just leave theircards on the table with their

chips and stuff, go shootsomebody,and then come back.

jukebox, which we couldn’t get to makeany noise, your mother sent over some 45sthat I’d asked for the day the jukeboxarrived without any records. She sent overfive records. Curiously, someone else haddone the same thing and they sent overthree or four records. Chief amongst theirgroup was Otis Redding’s “Sitting on theDock of a Bay,” which to this day, when Ihear it, my first impulse is to run up andsquelch the sound because I’ve heard it amillion fucking times, all in the space ofthree weeks. Your mother, on the otherhand, sent the Unicorn song. [SchlockIrish sing-a-long.]Lazy Mick: Oh God. Jim Ruland: Which I hated. I even hatedit before that whole siege started. Thenshe sent…Lazy Mick: Ruthie Morrissey?Jim Ruland: Yep, “I Wouldn’t Trade theSilver in My Mother’s Hair for All the Goldin the World.” That was not an instant suc-cess among the rest of the troops. The thirdone was Ronnie Drew and the Dubliners.The song about “What’s this head upon thebed where my old head should be?” (“SevenDrunken Days, Seven Drunken Nights”) Lazy Mick: That’s not a good song forguys away from home.Jim Ruland: No. I think there was a WolfTones in there, but anyway there were fiveIrish songs. So we had like eight records: fiveIrish records and “Sitting on the Dock of aBay.” Come to think of it, this was rightaround the time that Otis Redding died, whichI thought was a very fine idea. You’d sit in theclub and these things would play forever. Lazy Mick: Describe the Officer’s Club.

Jim Ruland: Well, we built it ourselves. Itwas like a Quonset hut but we called it theClub. It had a little patio. It didn’t overlookanything, but you could sit out there. Themain feature of the Club was a huge ship’sfender that we had up on a tripod that weused as a bladder so that we could havefresh water. We’d fill up the bladder andthere was a little tube that went from thebladder to the ice machine so you couldhave ice in your drink without poisoningyourself. The other main features were ahorseshoe-shaped bar, a poker table, and acouple of other smaller tables. We didn’thave anyone to tend bar. At first, everybodywanted to tend bar, then nobody wanted todo it.Lazy Mick: Too many customers?Jim Ruland: You’d be going out on patrolagain tomorrow, so what do I need to do thisfor? So without anyone to volunteer to tendbar, we had to think of a different schemefor charging for drinks and stuff. So we gotthe idea to charge by the hour. And that’swhat we did: we charged thirty cents anhour. It didn’t matter if you were drinkingor not. People would say, “Well I only hada coke.” “Shut up, it’s only thirty cents.”And it wasn’t money; it was MPC.Lazy Mick: Military…Jim Ruland: I forget what it stands for, butit was script, like Monopoly money. Youcould only spend it there and you couldn’ttake it out of the country. So it was weird.You changed your money to MPC as soonas you came in country. It was illegal tohave U.S. dollars in the country. So youtraded them off and you got MPC. Everytime you got paid, you got paid in MPC.

Most of us had allotments going home andjust a few bucks left to be paid with, butyou’d get your MPC and if you playedpoker you traded your MPC funny moneyin for chips. So you’re now another stepremoved from the reality of what it is youwere doing.Lazy Mick: Was poker a big diversion?Jim Ruland: When I left Vietnam the pokergame was going into its third year of contin-ual operation. The poker game never ended.The poker game went nonstop. Peoplewould come and go off patrol at all times ofday and night, so the game never stopped.There were usually three or four peoplewaiting to get in. So it was the only constantthing in your life. Sometimes it stoppedbecause the base would get overrun, buteveryone would just leave their cards on thetable with their chips and stuff, go shootsomebody, and then come back. The dealerwould look at the marker that told whoseturn it was and say, “So how many cards doyou want?” The game was in continualprogress my entire tour, I can testify to that,and I was told that it had been going on fora couple years before I got there. Lazy Mick: So it was more dangerousbeing at the base than out on patrol?Jim Ruland: Very definitely. When you’reout on patrol, you’re focused. You’re basi-cally at General Quarters the entire timeyou’re out. Well, most of the time, butyou’re basically in a combat ready mindset.

...to be continued

-Jim Ruland

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Jim Ruland Sr.

AAh, once more the skin-damaging rays ofsummer are upon us. The daylight hourslinger longer into the evenings with all of thescraggly, outta-school kids running amok.The sizzling scent of barbecues breeze allaround the neighborhood, and the familiarsound of those wonderfully illegal (depend-ing on what state you reside in) fireworksswish, pop, and boom in the air. I don’tknow about you, but no matter where youfind yourself living these days, the summerdays remind me of trying to beat the heatwhen it climbed to record highs.

A favorite way of trying to shake off Mr.Sun included flailing about inside thosemakeshift pools in our backyard. You knowwhich pools I’m talking about: those littleabove-the-ground kits that consisted of atwo-foot-high piece of sheet metal that,when fastened end to end, made a niftyeight-foot-across pool, complete with avinyl liner. Besides continually sifting outall the grass that we’d track in and keeping apH of just enough bleach (yeah, bleach—how punk rock is that? Moms didn’t fuckaround) to keep the algae at bay, the poolwas chock full of splashy goodness. The onlyproblem was when the flailing got out ofhand (running across the yard and jumping inand roughhousing) the sheet metal wouldgive way and the once-cooling body of waterwould go running across the lawn. D’oh.

Another way to keep the scorching weath-er at bay was with blasting the hose with thehigh-pressure nozzle. Sounds easy enough,right? I’d be staying nice ‘n cool while keep-ing the front and backyards somewhatwatered, two birds with one stone, ya know?Once again, my flailing kicked in and soonthe house windows and cars out front weregetting pelted with high-pressured oversprayfrom me whipping the hose around. So muchfor the hose. I was a hyper, twitchy kid.What was I gonna do? Get off my back.

The easiest of all ways to simply keepcool was to catch sessions at friends’ housesthat had built-in pools, which was alwaysfun, especially if they were having backyardparties. While thinking about all of this late-ly, I tried remembering some of the morepopular water/backyard toys out at the timewhile growing up in elementary school dur-ing the mid-‘70s through the early ‘80s. Mymemory conjured up several and after doinga bit of research, I found out that a couple ofthese outdoor toys of my years gone by havehad official warning notices addressed to the

owner, been recalled, or simply been bannedby the U.S. Consumer Product SafetyCommission.

According to the CPSC their goal is“charged with protecting the public fromunreasonable risks of serious injury or deathfrom more than 15,000 types of consumerproducts under the agency’s jurisdiction.Deaths, injuries, and property damage fromconsumer product incidents cost the nationmore than $700 billion annually… TheCPSC’s work to ensure the safety of con-sumer products… contributed significantlyto the 30 percent decline in the rate of deathsand injuries associated with consumer prod-ucts over the past 30 years.”

All this sounds like a good idea, especial-ly when a company sometimes manufacturessomething that can be seriously or fatallyharmful. For example, a small piece on ababy item that can be pulled or broken off,ending up with the infant choking, or afaulty electrical appliance that could causeelectrocution or fire. Without a doubt, theseand other situations of the like have to beaddressed, but some of the following toysthat I did the bit of research on ended up onthe CPSC’s list. Should they have? Read onand you tell me. Remember that these are allofficial notices taken from the CPSC’s web-site archive. None of this shit’s been made up.

April 13, 1978 Recall of Wham-O Water Wiggle ToyWham-O Manufacturing Co., San Gabriel,Calif. announced it is voluntarily stoppingsale and recalling its “Water Wiggle” toy.The toy consists of a seven-foot plastic hoseattached to an aluminum water-jet nozzlewhich is covered by a bell-shaped plastichead. The toy is designed to be attached to agarden hose for water fun. Wham-O statedthat the recall is occasioned by the death ofa four-year-old child in March 1978. Theyoungster was playing with some other chil-dren in his backyard with a dismantled“Water Wiggle,” one from which the bell-shaped head had been removed or had comeoff. The exposed aluminum nozzle becamelodged in his mouth and he drowned.

Okay, first things first. I love just abouteverything and anything that Wham-O cameout with over the years. They were really outthere when it came to toy invention. Thatsaid, there’s not a lick of bias when I saythis: The same thing could have and proba-

bly has happened when a three- or four-year-old kid dicks around with a garden hose andmeets the same fate of those who “fell preyto the ominous Water Wiggle.” Better callHome Depot to get those coiled green snakesoff the shelves that unsuspectingly fill inno-cent children’s lungs with venomous H2O.Goodness! What to do? Water the lawn orkill the kids? Gimme a fuckin’ break.

March 10, 1980 Wham-O to Correct Potential Hazard inChildren’s Outdoor Water ToyA program to correct more than 100,000outdoor “Fun Fountain” water toys whichmay cause serious injuries to children isbeing conducted by the Wham-O Mfg. Co.The toy consists of a clown hat and headwhich attaches onto the end of a garden hoseso that the hat rises in the air when waterflows through the clown’s head. Childrenmay be inclined to peer into the water outletand the stream of water could cause seriouseye injuries. CPSC so far has been informedof two consumer complaints since June,1979,involving a six-year-old boy and a seven-year-old boy who suffered eye injuries whenstruck at close distance by water emittedfrom the toys. According to the company, thepotential hazard has been corrected on all“Fun Fountain” toys manufactured sinceDecember 1979 when the toys began to beproduced with a water flow control valve todecrease and control the water flow.

Par-don my hard-on, but since when did itseem reasonable, let alone logical, to want topeer into something that’s kicking out pres-surized water? A dunce doing something likethis calls to mind when our own Art Fuentesused to dupe a few kids in our elementaryschool classroom into the “smells like cinna-mon” scam. Art would hold open a schooltextbook with both hands, offering the targetto smell where the pages came together nearthe binding, claiming it had a cinnamon-likearoma. If the target were slow enough to goalong with this, Art would then slam thebook shut, nearly catching their nose in theprocess. As far as the kids mentioned abovewith the eye injuries due to peering into jetstreams of water? Get your eye patches onand come over here. Art’s got a book hewants to show you and I got a garden hosefitted with my old high-pressure nozzle thathas your face written all over it. Dumbasses.

You're basically doingtackle maneuvers on thewet ground. Think about it,between you and theground was a sheet ofplastic.

DESIGNATED DALE

Lawn Dart Darwinism Slippery Bananasand

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IIII’’’’MMMM AAAAGGGGAAAAIIIINNNNSSSSTTTT IIIITTTT

July 30, 1987 Lawn Darts Can Cause Seriousor Fatal Head Injuries and DeathThe Consumer Product SafetyCommission today warns parentsnot to allow children to play withlawn darts or play near wherelawn dart games are beingplayed. Although the tip of lawndart may appear blunt, whenthrown up into the air the lawndart can penetrate a child’s skull.An estimated 6,100 people havebeen treated in hospital emer-gency rooms for injuries involv-ing lawn darts from 1978 through1986. In addition to the death ofthe seven-year-old girl in April,the Commission is aware of oneother lawn dart death whichinvolved a four-year-old boy andoccurred in 1970. EffectiveDecember 19, 1988, all lawndarts are banned from sale in theUnited States. The ConsumerProduct Safety Commission urgesparents to discard or destroy alllawn darts immediately. Theyshould not be given away sincethey may be of harm to others.

I’m sure that this one about lawndarts (“Jarts”) is the one every-one has heard about time andtime again. Funny thing is, thegruesome stories that have beenpassed on over the years aboutthese “deadly lawn toys” havebeen ridiculously exaggerated tomythical proportions, makingthem sound less like a backyardgame and more like a weaponfrom a bad B-movie. There’s theone about how people have hadan airborne Jart unwillinglyshisk-a-bob them in the eye,resulting in pulling the eyeballright out of its socket, or the oneof how people’s pets ended upbeing moving targets in a newgame of Jarts. And the favorite ofmine that I always heard about:straight up Jart fights. All the funof a good-natured dirt clod fight,only more severe, even more so than whensomeone always upped the ante to rocks inthose clod fights (and you ante-uppers knowwho you are). As horrible as these three talesof yore sound, something similar along thelines has probably taken place with lawndarts, though I would like to think they did-n’t. Shit happens and it goes without saying:you play with fire and you’re gonna getburned (don’t even get me started on theidiocy of literally playing with fire). Whilepoking around further about the whole lawndart banning, I found a website dedicated tothose who buck the system, defending thefaith of those who refuse to relinquish theirnow-illegal, grassy, outdoor fun:<www.jarts.com>. Even though there’s asite disclaimer, these folks seem pretty seri-ous about their Jart-a-licious recreations.

More power to ‘em. What’s really makingme scratch my monkey noggin’ is that theCPSC never really went after regular darts,like the kind you throw in a garage or bar.But then again, the smaller-sized darts aren’tlike the big ol’ nasty “lawn daggers,” right? Imean, you wouldn’t take these little dartsoutside, throw them up into the air, and keepyour fingers crossed that they wouldn’t comedown embedding themselves into someone’sskull, right? But you could. Come to think ofit, you could do this with anything possess-ing a sharpened, pointy end. And speaking ofsharpened, pointy ends, I’m sending thatdrunken, bastard relative of William Tellover to your next barbecue. No worries, hedon’t eat much and he’ll show up snockeredto the gills, but on a sporting bet, you canchallenge him to shoot “that apple” out of

the sky. Hope you like arrows inyour burger, cocko.

May 27, 1993WHAM-O Backyard WaterSlides Are Dangerous for Adultsand TeenagersApproximately 9 million Wham-Obackyard water slides, manufacturedby Kransco and Wham-O. The waterslides were sold nationwide from1961 through February 1992 underthe following names: Slip ‘N Slide,Super Slip ‘N Slide, Slip ‘N Splash,White Water Rapids, Fast TrackRacers, and Wet Banana. The slidesare long plastic sheets with stakes tosecure the sheet to a flat lawn free ofrocks, mounds, and depressions.Kransco reports that seven adultswho used Wham-O slides sufferedneck injuries, quadriplegia, or para-plegia.

Three words about this CPSC bul-letin release: “Uh, no shit?” As avid afan of the Slip ‘N Slide as a kid,they’ve been the ample providers ofbruises, road rash, and assorted bodybeatings for as long as I can remem-ber. You’re basically doing tacklemaneuvers on the wet ground. Thinkabout it: between you and the groundwas a sheet of plastic. There was ageneral rule for these water-drizzling,yellow vinyl sheets of summer. Themore plush the lawn you set the Slip‘N Slide up on, the less physical pun-ishment you were gonna endure.That, and clearing the ground of anyobstacles. Remember when you gotthe surprise of that rock that you did-n’t see on the grass while setting up?Sometimes I think it would havebeen easier to set it up on our drive-way, as the yards would sometimesget a nice and crispy brown due to agnarly heat wave, along with thoselittle feet-piercing thistle balls thatstuck to everything. Without a doubt,the concrete driveway would’veawarded us with many broken bones,but at least the downward slopewould have guaranteed kickass highspeeds with the possibility of a ramp

at the bottom that would launch sliders into anearby kiddie pool. Hey, I may be on to some-thing here, Wham-O! If I could just figure outa way to soften up the ride, I could help youguys regain the throne of summertime waterwackiness. In fact, I should get in contact withthe CPSC to find out what I shouldn’t beincluding on my design—it would probablyspeed up the process.

‘Til then, kiddies, I hope you’re all diggingthe summer the best way you can. Just be care-ful you don’t go and poke yourself in the eyethe next time you’re picking your nose. I’dhate to see any one of our ten fingers gettingbanned, especially my two middle ones.

I’m Against It-Designated Daledesignateddale@yahoo.com

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Although the tip of lawn dartmay appear blunt, when thrownup into the air the lawn dartcan penetrate a child's skull.

NLive on CiTR FM 101.9, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Nardwuar: Who are you?Fat Mike: My name is Fat Mike.Nardwuar: Who are you Fat Mike?Fat Mike: I’m a nice Jewish man from SanFrancisco. Nardwuar: Playing tonight in Vancouver,British Columbia, Canada.Fat Mike: Yeah, we’re playing at Richard’s OnRichards, but don’t come.Nardwuar: Fat Mike, the band that is playingis called Me First And The Gimmie Gimmies.That is the band that you participate in right?Fat Mike: Occasionally.Nardwuar: Fat Mike, what did you think aboutthat song I just played there? It was by a bandcalled The Misfats. All fat guys doing Misfitscovers with their song “Mommy Can I Go Outand Grill Tonight?”Fat Mike: [laughs] Uh, I hadn’t heard it.Nardwuar: Have you heard of The Misfits at all?Fat Mike: The Misfits or The Misfats?Nardwuar: Have you heard of The Misfits andhave you heard of The Misfats?Fat Mike: Yeah, in fact as a teenager Nardwuar.I heard your name is Marcus, is that true?Nardwuar: Could be.Fat Mike: Okay. Anyway Marcus, I had a devillock when I was fifteen years old so yeah, I’vebeen a Misfits fan for quite a while.Nardwuar: Well, these guys are called TheMisfats and they’re out of Portland, Oregon andthe reason I bring them up is your band, Me FirstAnd The Gimmie Gimmies, what do you dowith cover songs—not to confuse them with TheMisfats. The Misfats take Misfits songs and puttheir own fat twist on it. What do Me First And TheGimmie Gimmies do?Fat Mike: We make mediocre songs anddegrade songs.Nardwuar: Do you put new lyrics into them ordo you keep the original lyrics? Like what’s thedifference between The Misfats and Me FirstAnd The Gimmie Gimmies? Fat Mike: Nardwuar, you’re being particularlyweird this afternoon.Nardwuar: Thank you.Fat Mike: Yeah [laughs], are you not on yourmedication today?Nardwuar: Well, I’m building up to somethingbecause there is a combination, there is a differ-ence between...Fat Mike: [laughs]

Nardwuar: Stop making me look…Fat Mike: So you’re saying there is a slip upin the medication taking today?Nardwuar: [laughs] No.Fat Mike: Maybe you took two Wednesdaynight pills when you… I forgot the question,guy, Marcus.Nardwuar: I bring this up because there wasa description of The Misfats that I found thatsaid [reads] “The Misfats are different. Unlikelike NOFX’s, average proportioned Fat Mike,these guys not only look the portly part, butalso tweak Misfit lyrics to celebrate the lardass lifestyle. ‘20 Pies’ and ‘Mommy Can I GoOut and Grill Tonight’ rank among the finestfood-based parodies since Weird Al’s glori-ously gluttonous ‘Eat It’ and ‘Fat”.’” So thatis The Misfats.Fat Mike: Yeah, it makes sense to do that.But it’s kind of like a comedy album.Something that you might find slightly funnyonce, but I dunno how many times you wantto listen to it. The whole difference in thatsong is two consonants. So, I dunno if thatmakes much of a difference in a cover song. Idon’t know how interesting that makes it.Nardwuar: So how does that compare withwhat will be happening tonight with Me FirstAnd The Gimmie Gimmies?Fat Mike: Well, we’ll be loaded and probablybe making a large amount of errors and ourclothes match.Nardwuar: Fat Mike, you are from SanFrancisco, California. There’s a band calledPlan 9. Have you seen them? They’re like aMisfits tribute band?Fat Mike: No. By the way Marcus, we aren’ta tribute band. We are a cover band.Nardwuar: I’m sorry.Fat Mike: No. There’s a big difference. Wehave a rivalry going almost, such as the onesbetween mimes and clowns.Nardwuar: I wasn’t actually…Fat Mike: We’re clowns.Nardwuar: I wasn’t actually going to go inthat direction Fat Mike. I heard that these guysare so authentic in Plan 9 that the lead singerwas surgically altered to look like Danzig.Fat Mike: So he had his legs cut off at the knees?Nardwuar: Ba-boom! Fat Mike, Fat Mike: Oh y’know, that was bad. I’m sorry. Nardwuar: Not the Marcus The HumanServiette radio show. So how do Me First AndThe Gimmie Gimmies compare to Plan 9? LikePlan 9 will get surgically altered to fit the songs.

What extra distance do Me First And TheGimmie Gimmies add, Fat Mike, to the songs?Fat Mike: We don’t do a lot, we don’t try hard,less hard than any band in rock ‘n’ roll that Ican think of. We don’t write anything. Wedon’t come up with a lot of original ideas.Nardwuar: Well, your shirts are amazing. Youtalked about your shirts. I love the shirts.Fat Mike: Well thanks, but all that is, is twen-ty bucks a pop so we’re really not putting thatmuch effort into it.Nardwuar: Don’t try to fool me on that! Iknow about wardrobe and assembling awardrobe. How do you get those shirts becausethey’re all amazing? They’re not just liketwenty bucks. They look really good. Howhard is it to get the outfits?Fat Mike: No. Actually, well we just got backfrom our second Hawaiian tour. We did fourshows out there and we just went to a shop andbought our clothes, so it actually was prettyeasy and they were $19.99.Nardwuar: How many different outfits do MeFirst And The Gimmie Gimmies have Fat Mike?Fat Mike: One.Nardwuar: Just one? I thought you had awhole bunch. Like, every time I see a photo ofyou guys you’re wearing a different outfit. It’sreally impressive.Fat Mike: Okay, okay. We have five or six.Nardwuar: Yeah. Could you explain themperhaps to the listeners out there in radiolandFat Mike?Fat Mike: I think the listeners in radio landdon’t care about our outfits.Nardwuar: I do! I care! I’m the listener andI’m listening right now. I’m the listener! I’mlistening here to Fat Mike. Me First are playingat Richard’s On Richards with Chixdiggit.Fat Mike: Yeah, there’s enough people heretonight so we don’t need anymore people. [Nardwuar gets a caller]Nardwuar: Caller are you there?Caller#1: Yes, I am, Marcus.Nardwuar: Go ahead to Fat Mike. No, it’sNardwuar The Human Serviette, please. Thankyou. Caller are you there?Caller#1: Yeah, I’m here and I’m just thinkingI’d sure like to hear more about their wardrobe.Fat Mike: [laughs] You are a liar. Nardwuar: Thank you caller. You are the onelistener out there, caller.Caller#1: Yeah, so I’ll leave you guys to it.Nardwuar: Thank you so much caller anddoot doola doot doo...

“Well, y'know, MeFirst And The GimmieGimmies, no onethinks we're great butit's hard not to kindalike us.”

Nardwuar Vs. FFaatt MMiikkee

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WWWWHHHHOOOO AAAARRRREEEE YYYYOOOOUUUU????

Caller#1: Me too!Nardwuar: Well, me first. That wouldwork pretty good. Thank you.Caller#1: Or, hang on. Actually maybe thisworks. Just see if this works…[Presses two keys on phone keypad]Nardwuar: Thank you.Fat Mike: So people do care about thewardrobe.Nardwuar: They do. Maybe you couldelaborate a bit?Fat Mike: Uh, we don’t wear drag very often. Nardwuar: Ba-boom! Fat Mike: Marcus?Nardwuar: And we have Fat Mike from MeFirst And The Gimmie Gimmies on the line. [Nardwuar gets another caller] Nardwuar: Caller are you there?Chris Walter: Yes I’m here. It’s ChrisWalter.Nardwuar: Fat Mike, I’d like to introduceyou to this caller. Chris Walter is originallyfrom Winnipeg, Manitoba and I askedChris to phone in because he is an expert onall things Stretch-Markian. Fat Mike: Oh boy.Nardwuar: And I wondered if you couldretell the story of seeing The Stretch Marksand how you love Canadian punk.Fat Mike: [laughs]Chris: It was in Hollywood?Fat Mike: It was in Hollywood, yeah. Isaw the Stretch Marks four days in a row. Itwas their first tour out there and we weresinging along to songs and they couldn’tbelieve that because they didn’t have any ofthem recorded yet.Chris: Well, their songs are very easy tosing along to. It’s just like, “Woof woof, it’sa dogs world.” I mean like how…Fat Mike: That’s true, but they were stillimpressed that these three kids showed upat all four shows they played. And then nextyear they came back and played a couple

other shows and I was looking around forthem. And I finally found one of the guysand went “Hey, it’s me, Mike. Rememberfrom last year?” And he said, “No.” Andthat was that.Chris: Were you crushed or…Fat Mike: Yeah, I was crushed. But,y’know I was sixteen, so I deserved it. AndI get that all the time now. I get kids saying,“Remember last year? Remember we talkedfor a minute?” And I don’t remember themeither, but...Nardwuar: And Chris, actually, believe itor not Fat Mike, actually is pictured on aStretch Marks 7-incher. Is that true Chris?Chris: That’s right.Fat Mike: Is it the “Dog’s World” one?Chris: Yeah, on the back. The dance floorwas kind of empty because I think there wasbeer spilt on it and people were fallin’ downat that moment, but I seemed to haveregained my feet and I was in front of thestage there. Nardwuar: Chris, is it true also that aStretch-Marker lives in Vancouver now? AStretch-Marker could actually go to MeFirst and thank Fat Mike for seeing themfour nights in a row way back in the ‘80s?Chris: Well, Dick lives in Burnaby now. Idon’t see him too often now. Once in a whileI do. I have a question for Fat Mike, though. Fat Mike: Sure. Chris: How did you end up with a sound-man named Limo from Winnipeg? Fat Mike: I dunno how. We have a manag-er from Winnipeg. We have a soundmanfrom Winnipeg. We have someone we don’tlike at all from Winnipeg who hangs outwith us. Basically, we hired the entireGorilla Gorilla band except for Bif Naked.Chris: Except for Bif. She got left out huh?Fat Mike: Yeah.Chris: Aw, poor Bif.Fat Mike: [laughs] But I dunno.

Winnipeg’s always been one of our favoriteCanadian cities, but every decently sizedCanadian city is a good town, really. Nardwuar: How about visiting Vancouverfor the first time?Fat Mike: Oh, I’ve been here a lot of times,Marcus. Nardwuar: Nardwuar The HumanServiette.Fat Mike: [laughs]Nardwuar: Thank you very much FatMike. Well, if you want, you can call meMarcus. I dunno, I don’t feel as comfortablecalling myself Marcus because I think ofMarcus Rogers and Marcus Rogers is alocal filmmaker that works with D.O.A.D.O.A. are related to Death Sentence, wellkind of indirectly. I think there might havebeen some tie-overs and I wanted to ask youFat Mike about your first time inVancouver, British Columbia, Canada,because didn’t you run into the notoriouslocal punk band Death Sentence? Fat Mike: Yes. What happened is we could-n’t get over the border with our equipmentand we had a show with Death Sentence. Wedrove back to Seattle, dropped our equip-ment off, came back up, made it to throughthe border, made it to the show in the after-noon and said, “Can we use some of youguys’ gear to play?” and they said, “No.” Sowe didn’t get to play. That was 1985. Nardwuar: Welcome to Canada. Fat Mike: Yeah.Chris: I’m gonna have to put that on SydSavage (Death Sentence guitarist) next timeI see him. Fat Mike: [laughs]Chris: “Hey, you wouldn’t let them useyour gear in the ‘80s.”Fat Mike: So, we ended up not playing theshow and we went to a billiard hall and thepool tables were much too large.Nardwuar: Chris also is involved with

““WWee mmaakkee mmeeddiiooccrree ssoonnggss and degrade ssoonnggss..””

15

rock’n’roll too, Fat Mike. And Chris,maybe you want to mention to Fat Mikeabout your book and what’s going to begoing on tomorrow night?CW: I’m having a book launch at theAsbalt Hotel for my new book, DestroyCanada. (available atwww.punkbooks.com)Nardwuar: Chris’s other book chronicles alot of the Winnipeg punk scene. Maybe FatMike would be interested in picking thatone up, right Chris?Chris: Yeah. It’s called I Was a PunkBefore You Were a Punk. It’s a joke we usedto say to each other like when we were kidsand none of us had been punks for verylong and we used to say, “I was a punkbefore you were a punk.”Fat Mike: Right, but you’re talkingmonths though?Chris: Yeah, back in the early ‘80s.Fat Mike: I got that a lot in high schoolwhen people would call me a poser.Chris: And you’d say, “I was a punk beforeyou were a punk.”Fat Mike: No, no, they were punks beforeme, but we’re still talkin’ a year.Chris: Yeah, exactly.Fat Mike: It was still 1980. They, myfriends saw The Germs, so I was a poser. Chris: Aw man, I wish I saw The Germs. Nardwuar: But Fat Mike should really pickup this book right, Chris Walter? Becauseyou actually mention the Stretch Marks andthere’s pictures of you slamming to theStretch Marks in the book, right? Chris: Yeah.Fat Mike: Yeah, well I think we should getthis issue over with right now. Who was thebest Canadian punk band?Chris: Personality Crisis.Fat Mike: That’s exactly right. It’sPersonality Crisis.Nardwuar: Now, why was that and whatwas your experience with Personality CrisisFat Mike?Fat Mike: Well, they were awesome and Iwent to go see ‘em in Hollywood but theyweren’t going on for an hour so I went to thealley and drank a forty ounce and got arrest-ed and missed the show. Chris: Shitty. They were great.Fat Mike: I know—bummed!Chris: Yeah.Nardwuar: And they were from Winnipeg,right Chris? CW: Well, half of them were from Calgary,but then they moved. Those two moved toWinnipeg.Fat Mike: Marcus, I thought you knewyour shit, dude. [laughs]Nardwuar: Also The Neos as well. They’reone of your favorites. Did you catch TheNeos at all Fat Mike?Fat Mike: No, I don’t think they ever camedown to California. I don’t know if theyever actually played a live show.Nardwuar: Yes, they did. Of course. They didcome down to California. Actually, their veryfirst tour to California was in a station wagonand NoMeansNo was the backup band. Fat Mike: Wow.Nardwuar: The Neos and NoMeansNo.And that kind of attracted Jello to

NoMeansNo and then, well, maybe the restis history. What about the other Canadianclassic punk bands, aside from D.O.A?Fat Mike: What about some of the newerones?Nardwuar: That’s what I was wondering.The Real Mackenzies. Chris: Million Dollar Marxists fromOttawa. They’re great.Fat Mike: Are they?Nardwuar: Don’t mention them to FatMike because they’re signed to GearHead! Chris: Yeah, they are. Fat Mike: This may be surprising, but I’mactually playing bass on the new RealMackenzies album. Chris: Oh yeah? Cool. I heard that they justgot a new drummer. The guy from GoodRiddance.Fat Mike: That’s true.Chris: Wow. That’s good.Fat Mike: We’re recording their recordright now. Nardwuar: So Chris, have we missed any-one else from all-time Canadian punk? Fat Mike: Propagandhi are one of the mostimportant punk bands ever.Nardwuar: What do you think aboutPropagandhi, Chris Walter, having movedout of Winnipeg kind of after Propagandhihad got going? Chris: Yeah, they got started getting goingin the early ‘90s. About the time I left.They’re a pretty serious band, pretty seriousguys, but they seem very sincere and honestto me and they seem to live by their beliefsand stuff.Fat Mike: They make the curve. Chris: I almost thought they sounded likeNOFX, strangely enough though, but notwithout the political lyrics and stuff. Fat Mike: Right, they’re a little more metal.Nardwuar: Are they mad at you still FatMike?

Fat Mike: Mad at me?Nardwuar: I thought Propagandhi weremad at you perhaps?Fat Mike: No, no, no. It’s just they weregonna be on the Rock Against Bush compand we ended up not putting their song on.We all decided it was better off if it wasn’ton. It’s because they don’t believe in theentire U.S. political system in the firstplace. We just thought it was kind of sillyfor them to be on the comp. What aboutTeenage Head?Chris: Yeah they were great too, yeah. Fat Mike: I dunno about great. [laughs]Chris: They were one of the first bands Isaw. They were killer.Fat Mike: Y’know the first, the first punkband I ever saw was the CanadianSubhumans.Chris: Yeah, they were great too. Fat Mike: They opened up for X at theWhiskey. Nardwuar: That is awesome. So punk wasexposed to you via Canada then?Fat Mike: Yeah.Nardwuar: So the Subhumans were thefirst punks you ever saw?Fat Mike: Unless you count Killing Joke.Chris: No.Nardwuar: Well, there’s a connection

because Killing Joke did have some live EPthat was recorded in Toronto, so that’s kindof Canadian. And Killing Joke have beenlive on the Nardwuar The Human Servietteradio show, but I’m kind of mad at you FatMike. You released the U.K. Subhumans abit later on.Fat Mike: Well, they’re a much betterband Marcus.Chris: Hey, hey!Nardwuar: No there, hey, yeah go get himChris! Go get him Chris! Go get him!Fat Mike: Come on. Fair is fair. TheEnglish Subhumans are a much betterband. Nardwuar: The Canadian Subhumans aremuch better than the U.K. Subhumans.Fat Mike: That’s an impossibility. [laughs]Nardwuar: Chris, go get him! Chris,defend Marcus here. Chris defend Marcus.Chris: I like both bands, actually. I reallydo. I like both Subhumans. Nardwuar: Well, thanks so much Chris.Keep on rockin’ in the free world and dootdoola doot doo...Fat Mike: See ya, Chris. Nardwuar: Chris, doot doola doot doo...Chris: Oh shit.Nardwuar: Fat Mike, you’re calling meMarcus, but a lot of people have been call-ing you Mike Burkett lately.Fat Mike: Oh yeah.Nardwuar: What is up with that? In PunkPlanet they called you Mike Burkett.Fat Mike: I guess they think it’s outing meor something? Like I care if people knowmy name? [laughs]Nardwuar: Like in the intro it was “FatMike” Burkett. You think they could havehad it on a header, but it was just MikeBurkett. It made me really angry.Fat Mike: It didn’t make me angry at all. Nardwuar: It’s—well I know what it feelsto be called the real name—like Marcus.

16

Nardwuar: So, Fat Mike Burkett.Now Mike, the last time I talked toyou, I mentioned that there was anIdaho State Senator called MikeBurkett. There really was. Have youfound anything more about this?Fat Mike: No. I don’t care.Nardwuar: Isn’t that amazing though?Mike Burkett. Your exact name is thename of an Idaho State senator from1988 to 1992 and 2002 to 2004, allthese years. Fat Mike: Uh, not really thatamazing.

Fat Mike: Yeah.Nardwuar: Fat Mike, what opportunitieshave arose since Punk Voter? For instance,were you not approached by RussellSimmons to do some sort of “We Are theWorld” thing?Fat Mike: Yeah. Nardwuar: That’s incredible. RussellSimmons. He’s the Def Jam dude, right?Fat Mike: Yeah, but I declined.Nardwuar: I know that’s kind of like anadditional perk and it might be kind ofembarrassing, but, still, Russell Simmons!Fat Mike: I don’t even know what he does.What was cooler is the other day I was inNew York and Jesse Jackson was sitting at atable next to me and I said, “Hi” to him andhe knew who I was, so that was pretty cool.Nardwuar: Oh that’s amazing! You got toget him to do some spoken word or some-thing like that?Fat Mike: Not really. He’s kind of dull.Nardwuar: Were you thinking, “How didhe know about Fat Mike?” Would it havebeen all the shows you did?Fat Mike: Well, I did a lot of press aboutPunk Voter as well as Russell Simmons’sorganization and all the grassroots organi-zations that were trying to help theDemocrat party. There was a lot of pressand Jesse Jackson’s in there. Him and hisRainbow Coalition, which is kind of afunny name for a Black organization. But,he knew who I was. I was very flattered. Nardwuar: Could you play for the troops ifyou wanted to? Would they allow you toplay for the troops because perhaps you’renot for the president.Fat Mike: They allowed Al Franken and allhe did was make fun of the president whenhe was out there.

Nardwuar: Have you thought about tryin’to play for the troops at all?Fat Mike: Oh, there’s no fuckin’ way I’mgoin’ out there. Nardwuar: But how about for the soldiers‘cause they—I’m sure they would enjoysomething. Isn’t that where it starts?Grassroots?Fat Mike: I wouldn’t mind playing musicfor some of the soldiers who are against thewar, who don’t want to be there and arebummed out, but there’s a lot of soldierswho do want to be there and they like shoot-ing people and I don’t want to play for them. Nardwuar: I asked you before Fat Mike,about your band outfits. Like where you gotthem, where you got them made, what doyou base them on?Fat Mike: I told you we got them inHawaii!Nardwuar: I know, but I still think you getthem from other places because looking atthe nice suits and stuff, I’m curious. Do youhave a tailor putting it all together?Fat Mike: No, we bought our blue tuxes inKoreatown in L.A. Nardwuar: I want to think that you reallyworked hard to get this stuff. Like, where’dyou get the guitars made?Fat Mike: Look, we don’t work hard atanything and that’s why we’re successful. Nardwuar: Wow. I guess Marcus shouldfollow that advice.Fat Mike: [laughs]Nardwuar: Fat Mike, anything else youwant to add to the people out there at all?Fat Mike: Anything I want to add to them?Nardwuar: Why should people care aboutMe First And The Gimmie Gimmies?Fat Mike: Well, y’know, Me First And TheGimmie Gimmies, no one thinks we’re

great but it’s hard not to kinda like us. Nardwuar: Ba-Boom!Fat Mike: You don’t have to strive forgreatness, Marcus. You just have to try tohave a good time. Nardwuar: Just out of curiosity, whatmade you think that I was a “Marcus?” Fat Mike: That’s what I heard your namewas.Nardwuar: Like, couldn’t you havethought I was a “Ted” or something?Something a bit tougher?Fat Mike: Well, I didn’t want to makesomething up. This guy Tom here told meyour real name was Marcus, so that’s whatI’m going with.Nardwuar: Thanks so much Fat Mike anddoot doola doot doo...Fat Mike: God’s dead. Nardwuar: Um, that might work…Fat Mike: [laughs]Nardwuar: But just for y’know continuitypurposes, can we at least go doot doola dootdoo...Fat Mike: Yeah, boop. Nardwuar: That didn’t quite work actually.Fat Mike: It didn’t?!Nardwuar: It didn’t quite work. Dootdoola doot doo...Fat Mike: Jew Jew. Nardwuar: That is, I dunno, doot dooladoot doo...Fat Mike: What are we doing now?Nardwuar: We’re just trying to end theinterview I think.Fat Mike: Oh. Nardwuar: Doot doola doot doo...Fat Mike: Doot doo.

To hear this interview go to http://www.nardwuar.com

17

““WWee''llll bbee llooaaddeedd aanndd pprroobbaabbllyy bbee mmaakkiinngg aa llaarrggee aamouunt of eerrrrorrs aanndd oouur cclloothheess mmatcchh.”

sSEEMINGLY TEN BILLION THINGSMONUMENTALLY MORE PUNK THANPOINTLESS MUSING ON THE MORALITY OF SOCIAL DISTORTIONPLAYING THE CASINO

orI DANCED WITH TOMOKO, THEOTTAWA PUBLIC LIBRARY ATE MYCOLUMN AND THE RIDDLER’S DEAD,DON’T TELL ME YOUR FUCKINGTROUBLES

That’s right! That’s right! I, Rev. Nørb, dancedwith Tomoko! THEE Tomoko! The SupersnazzTomoko! The Tweezers Tomoko! The “Letter toTomoko” Tomoko! This is not a hoax! Not animaginary story! Not a tragic misspelling of thesurname of right-handed pitcher Brett Tomko! Idanced with Tomoko, almost hit a moose, and gotdrunk with the Undertones! And, whilst SocialDistortion were playing at Oneida Bingo &Casino, much to the chagrin of... uh... somebodyor another, i, Rev. Nørb, was, a pied, in the capi-tal of Canada (that’s the country two spots upfrom Mexico), vainly attempting to write thisvery column from a standing-up position, andfailing miserably, as the Ottawa public library’s

computers routinely dissolved all that i had writ-ten every fifteen minutes. Bah! Fie upon theOttawa Public Library’s computer system! A poxupon it, even! However, i am virtually certainthat Ottawa’s slipshod public internet facilitiesare meant, by a just and righteous Divine Spirit(yeah, that’s right, a “Divine Spirit.” My GreatSpirit ate dog poop at the end of Pink Flamingos!Sorry about yours!), to be some manner ofkarmic tradeoff to offset the almost indescribablenumbers of really, really, really, really, REALLYhot girls Ottawa is packed to the metaphoricalgills with. I mean, Ottawa is so inexplicablyfilled to the brim with trim (both Asian trim andthe other kind) that they might as well change thename of the place HOT-awa! And they can takethe two-letter postal abbreviation for “Ontario”and preface it with the letters H, A, R, D and ahyphen while they’re up! I mean, hokey smokes!Rant! Rave! Pant! Etc.! But, yes, i’m gettingahead of myself. Actually, i don’t really have abeginning or an end in mind for this column, sotechnically i can’t be ahead, i can only be off ona side street or an on-ramp or something (and,speaking of on-ramps, and Canada, which we[well, i] were, do you know what the only part ofCanada [as far as i can tell] is that doesn’t have

bilingual road signs? That’s right. Québec.Seulement en Français! And, of course, that’sperfectly understandable: I mean, just becauseeverywhere else in the country [as far as i cantell] can stick an “ARRET” under “STOP” andan “EST” underneath the “EAST” and a “SUD”underneath “SOUTH,” why would that meanthat Québec is obligated to return the favor?Screw it, man! The national character is at stake!Let’s just have EST and OUEST and SUD andNORD, so what if there’s tons of English speak-ers driving down these roads? S.F.O.D., assholes!Six-lane highway at 100 km an hour and we’vegot a lane closure up ahead? Hey, theAnglophones will figure it out! Sure, by the timethey remember that “DROIT” means “right” and“FERMÉE” means “closed,” they’ll already bebarreling into a construction zone, scatteringunfortunate highway workers like tenpins, orninepins, or whatever the fuck kinda pins theyhave there, but who cares? We got our nationalpride to think of! [i kind of think i entered thefreeway up an exit ramp in Québec. I’m not sure.All i know is that i had to crank the car around ata really funky angle to merge with traffic, andthey all seemed pretty darn surprised to see me.Oh well, so long as Québec’s cultural integrity

Now I'M supposed to get upin arms because a bandthat no one in their rightmind should've given afucking fuck and a halfabout for the last ten?twenty? years is playing atthe casino?

20

ø LLLLOOOOVVVVEEEE,,,, NNNNOOOORRRRBBBBIIREV. NORBI

......nnoo ttoo SSoocciiaall DDiissttoorrttiioonn

yyeess ttoo ttHHEE uuNNDDEERRTTOONNEESS......

photo by Chris Pretti

was maintained, like, who cares?] [further, youknow what else is funny about Canada andQuébec? Well, okay, you know how Canada willdo things the opposite way they’re done in theU.S., just to be different? Like, in America,Interstates 5 and 95 go up and down, 10-80-90 goeast and west, right? Odd numbers = north/south;even numbers = east/west. Well, of course, inCanada, they’ve gotta do it the other way round,so 10-80-90 go up and down, 5 & 95 go east andwest {route numbers used for illustration only}.Mais naturellement, Québec has got to do thingsthe opposite way that the rest of Canada doesthings—so 5 & 95 are back to going up anddown, 10-80-90 go est and ouest, just like theStates. And, of course, since the U.S. has theirInterstate route numbers displayed in blue-shield-with-red-top shapes, Canada has to varyfrom that—lest they be accused of tonguing themonied sphincter of the U.S. Imperialist jugger-naut—so they put their route numbers inside theshape of the crown of the British monarchy{nicely done, Canada. We drink deeply of yourfierce cultural independence}. But, of course,Québec can’t do what the rest of Canada does, sothey put their route numbers in blue shield shapeswith red tops, a la the United States. Oh, youcrazy kids!]). But, yes. Where was i? Oh, yes, iwas off on vacation, tenting thru Canada, whilstSocial Distortion were, apparently, offendingsomeone, somewhere, by playing at the Casino.Quote me on this one: “Oh no.” I mean, gosh,Social Distortion playing at the Casino!Whatever shall we do? Whither shall we go fromhere? I was at a bar watching a band (the GroovieGhoulies, quoted earlier), and this guy who ivaguely know by face but not at all by name (ithink he started going to shows around the sametime as the Rhythm Chicken [i.e., mid-‘80s]) but

that i haven’t seen in like ten years (and don’treally remember liking anyway) comes up to meand will not shut up about the GRAVE BETRAY-AL of Social Distortion playing at the Casino. I’mlike yeah, boy, you’d expect a band that signed aten-album deal with CBS to play more basementshows. What hath God wrought? I mean, who thefuck cares? When Social Distortion playedGreen Bay the first time (ca. 1990), they would-n’t go on stage because the promoter attempted tosupply them with clean towels from his Mom’slinen closet, and their contract specificallyrequired the promoter to supply them withBRAND NEW towels—thus an envoy had to besent off to ShopKo™ to procure the necessarystock of virgin terrycloth before the band woulddeign to grace us with their presence. And, fifteenyears later, they wind up playing in the big tentoutside of the Casino. Not to put too fine a pointon it, but who fuckin’ gives a fuck? How doesthe 1990 dot of the band refusing to go on stageat Kutska’s Hall ‘til they got their new towels notlogically and easily connect to the 2005 dot of theband playing at the Casino? What is there that ishard to follow about this? What’s out of charac-ter? Whither the outrage, jack? But, yet, the guykeeps drunkenly moaning. Three decades of punkrock maintaining a state of utter purity, andNOW, in 2005, Social Distortion have suddenlyruined everything for everyone! BOO HOO

HOO HOO HOO!!! The guy becomes drunken-ly indignant. How dare i not condemn SocialDistortion for him! After all, HE saw my oldband Suburban Mutilation playing at Wally’sSpot in 1985! (ooh, you saw my old band’s lastshow. Thanks for the lifetime of support!) HEsaw my band play at Wally’s Spot in 1985, andnow I’M betraying him too, by not enthusiasti-cally validating his condemnation of SocialDistortion for him! IS THERE NO JUSTICE INTHIS WORLD??? I’m like, look, douche-ass, ihaven’t seen you at a show in so long that i don’teven remember your name anymore—if i evenfuckin’knew it to begin with—which means that,when the fifty trillion GREAT bands who playedGreen Bay in the nineties played Green Bay inthe nineties, you were likely off trying to figureout what manner of long sleeve t-shirt coordinat-ed best with open-toed sandals, and, i’d be will-ing to wager, over the course of the last decade orso, the main basis of your “connection” to “thescene,” such as it is, has been an annual pilgrim-age to the fuckin’ Warped Tour. And now I’Msupposed to get up in arms because a band that noone in their right mind should’ve given a fuckingfuck and a half about for the last ten? fifteen?twenty? years is playing at the casino? Like,somehow, in a turn of events most shocking andunexpected, Social Distortion are now bigdouchebags, and we need to rally in opposition totheir newly heinous ways to keep the purity ofthe scene intact, else all is lost? Dude, SocialDistortion are merely irrelevant: YOU’RE THEFUCKING DOUCHEBAG, DOUCHEBAG!!!I mean, it’s not like this guy is some idealisticseventeen-year-old kid who just found out there’sno Santa Claus (wait... that was a bad metaphor.I mean, people don’t usually find out that there’sno Santa Claus until their mid-twenties. But you

know what i mean), this guy is in his early-to-mid-thirties, and should have come to grips withthe inevitability of this type of shit a decade ago.I mean, Billy Idol plays at the Casino, so, at onepoint in time, i, me, young Rev. Nørb, engaged inmy high-powered after-school job of ripping thefat and guts and residual feather shafts off ofrefrigerated chicken parts, had to come to gripswith the fact that the guy who sang vocals on myFAVORITE PUNK ALBUM OF ALL TIME, BillyIdol, was now on the little radio that the chickenpluckers (as were we known) had stationed atopthe water heater back by the sinks, singing anAMAZINGLY LAME and TERRIFYINGLYPOPULAR song called “Hot in the City” thatwas, adding insult to injury, a blatant rip off ofNick Gilder’s 1978 wimp-rock #1 hit, “Hot Childin the City,” BUT EVEN WORSE (but you knowwhat’s good? “Backstreet Noise,” the b-side of“Hot in the City.” One could imagine the Fevers,Bobbyteens, or perhaps even the Epoxies totallyraking with that one [but, for the record, that’s theonly good song Nick Gilder ever recorded][JUST REALIZED THIS RIGHT NOW DEPT.:Both Nick Gilder and Generation X recorded forChrysalis Records. Huh.]). LOOK. THIS TYPEOF SHIT HAPPENS. BANDS YOU GREW UPIDOLIZING (er...no pun intended) WILL SUD-DENLY MANIFEST AMAZING SQUARENESSAND BECOME INCREDIBLY POPULAR.

LEARN TO DEAL WITH IT AT SOME POINT INTIME BEFORE YOU TURN THIRTY. Besides, idon’t think Social Distortion playing under thebig top in the Oneida Bingo & Casino parking lotis as much an indictment of the band as it is of theband’s fans. I mean, the circus never parks itswagons where it’s not wanted, ya know? Nobodywould stick a band out there if they didn’t thinkthe band’s FANS were going to come out there tosee them, so, sirrah, i submit that it is YOU, theFANS of Social Distortion, that have corruptedour bloodlines, and allowed this taint of (eek!)impurity into the scene, by positioning yourselfas A Fanbase Likely To Make The Band’sEngagement At The Casino A Profitable One. Itis YOU who are the ball lickers! YOU who arethe schmucks! YOU who are the sellouts, andother pithy epithets! (for the record, the only acti’ve ever paid to see under the big top at theCasino was Little Richard. Who sucked. I mean,i’m fine with the fact that his bodyguard had tohelp him up onto his piano; there’s no shame ingetting old and brittle. I’m fine with the fact thatthe guy’s continual “SHUT UP!” schtick is akinto something befitting assignment to one of theSweathogs on Welcome Back, Kotter. What i’mNOT fine with is that the guy had TWO BASSPLAYERS—one wearing a doo-rag, for cripessakes—and only played about five or six bonafide Little Richard songs. Everything else wastoken ‘50s nostalgia covers of a non-LittleRichardly nature. I mean, Fats Domino? ElvisPresley? JERRY LEE FRIGGIN’ LEWIS, F’RCHRISSAKES??? Cover your shame, mon! [and,further yet, while i, like many, hold Little Richardto be a full 50% of the binary system of ‘50sRock prime movers {Chuck Berry being theother}, the fact that he, today, sucks, whilst theComets—pilloried for decades by Standard Rock

Historians for being a bunch of paunchy oldwhite squares from the Northeast—thus, by somecritical measure, frauds—still RULE live, despite{because of?} an octogenarian lead guitarist,suggest that it is LITTLE RICHARD who is thefraud, or, at bare minimum, the ball licker]).Uh...where was i going with this? Oh, yes, SocialDistortion playing at the Casino. Well, fuck it, idanced with Tomoko, which is relevant, becausei danced with her at the selfsame casino thatSocial Distortion played at. And, in point of fact,that is relevant because that is where i’ve seen theComets (numerous times) at. In point of fact, thefirst time i saw the Comets was at the firstRockabilly Fest at the casino, and the last time isaw the Comets was at the second RockabillyFest there, and the second Rockabilly Fest waswhat Tomoko was in town for, and bothRockabilly Fests were booked by this guy namedPhil, who is also the guy who booked SocialDistortion in the tent. Now, why that is largelyrelevant is because Tomoko, as well as dancingwith me, also bought me a beer, which (oh, hor-rors of horrors!) required me to return a favor,which is where i found out the highly disturbingfact that Tomoko drinks Miller Lite™!!! Eek.Now, that is relevant because once, withinRazorcake’s hallowed pages, Rhythm Chickenclaimed—correctly—that Miller Lite™ wasunfit to even clean a German toilet with. This, of

Look,, douche-aass......

course, is relevant not only because RhythmChicken was mentioned earlier as a guy who,local-scene-wise, was a peer, i think, of thedouchebag who was moaning endlessly aboutSocial Distortion playing at the casino, butbecause, during the Toronto leg of my just-con-cluded Canadian vacation, i stumbled out of theRogers Centre (after witnessing the Toronto BlueJays dispatch the despised Minnesota Twins 4-0), only to be greeted by the shockingly unmis-takable sounds of some loose cannon playingdrums al fresco. There i am, making my wayfrom the premises in the midst of a throng of dis-persing Canucks, and i hear THUDDA WAPPATHUDDA WAPPA THUDDA WAPPA THUD!THUD! THUD! THUDDA WAPPA THUDTHUD! THUDDA WAPPA THUD THUDTHUD!!! I can’t tell exactly where the noise iscoming from, but i can tell that it is someoneplaying drums in the open air, outside the stadi-um. Oh my fucking gawd. It CAN’T be! Thedrumbeats continue. THUDDA WAPPA THUD-DA WAPPA THUDDA WAPPA THUD! THUD!THUD! They play a recognizable beat for aboutten or twenty seconds, stop, spend a few secondspissing around with some faux-stadium fills,then lunge back into a completely differentdrumbeat. My god. It HAS to be. In a ten-gazil-lion-to-one coincidence, my brief jaunt toToronto for a Blue Jays game has coincided witha Rhythm Chicken tour stop. It HAS to be. I startrunning around the exterior of the RogersCentre, looking for the Rhythm Chicken. This isgonna be the best thing EVER! I figure i will justcome running out of the crowd and tackle him,which will shock both the crowd and theChicken himself—then we can roll around, feigncombat, and stoke the crowd to a fever pitch (noRed Sox movie pun intended). Surely this will bethe jest of all jests! I round the corner, and findthe source of the mysterious ruckus. Shockingly,it is NOT the Rhythm Chicken. Planet Earth,please be seated—i have some rather, uh, intensenews you’d best not absorb whilst standing: Inthe parallel universe that is Canada, there existsA SECOND RHYTHM CHICKEN. AND HE ISBLACK. Let that tidbit sink in for a while. Roll itaround on the back of thy tongue, ‘til the flavordissolves fully: THERE IS A BLACK RHYTHMCHICKEN. AND HE LIVES IN CANADA. Imean, no, the guy didn’t have a majestic chickenhead, as is traditionally found upon domesticRhythm Chickens. And, when the Black RhythmChicken (“BRC” to you and me [alternately the“Soul Chicken”]) paused in his mighty arenarock ruckus, he didn’t point his Rhythm Logsskyward—instead, he would stand upright,holler some incomprehensible shit (presumablyabout the Blue Jays), then retake his seat andresume dispensing ruckus in the time honoredfashion of the North American Rhythm ChickensUnion. And why is this relevant? This is relevantbecause i don’t know what i am officially sup-posed to call Canadian black people. AfricanNorth Americans? Afro-Canadians? However, ido know that Canadian Native Americans arecalled “First Nation” (perhaps, “FirstNationals?” Was Mike Nesmith aware of this?),although i’d cast my ballot for “Canindians” if iwere allowed to vote, which i am not. And this isrelevant because all Canadians—First Nationals,Second Nationals, and zee Quebecois—use aquarter with a moose on the b-side, and i almosthit a fucking moose during my trip. Naturally, i

brought it on myself: I saw all these “MOOSECROSSING” signs, and started to think goddammit, you know, i’m really going to be disap-pointed if i don’t see a moose now. Of course, iwould just as soon see it in a retreating posture,returning to the woods, but i suppose i’ll takewhat i can get. Not surprisingly, about ten min-utes later, here’s this fucking moose—kind oflike a horse, but about 33% bigger—gallopingout of the woods at me. Now, if you’re familiarwith the street-crossing patterns of deer, you areaware of the fact that—unpredictable pausesnotwithstanding—they cross roads in a perfectly

straight line. They walk from one curb to anoth-er as if following a crosswalk visible only towoodland creatures. Moose follow no such lawsof transit. They start at one side of the road, thenbolt at a 45-degree angle DIRECTLY AT YOURCAR. They are also very large. Very, very large.Please take me at my word for this: Near-mooseencounters can be effectively qualified as “some-thing other than pleasant.” Of course, i didn’tactually encounter the moose in Canada. Iencountered it in New Hampshire. This is rele-vant because i was on my way to Maine. That isrelevant because i decided to celebrate the ten-year anniversary of the Boris The Sprinkler/Mr.T Experience/Riverdales Summer 1995 Tour bydriving from Montréal to Maine, because, duringthat tour, i was across a not-large river fromMaine and failed to realize it, therefore neveractually went into Maine, therefore had nevertechnically been to Maine, thus i felt compelledto rectify that whilst in the neighborhood. Thatwas a bad idea. A bad, bad idea. See, i had alsonever been to Vermont before either—thus, ithought, i would dip back down from Québec tothe US just deeply enough to follow the littlesquiggly lines on the map into Vermont, acrossNew Hampshire, and over the Maine border,

then back again. A simple jaunt, in theory—unfortunately, i forgot to take into account thefact that the squiggliness of the lines was due tothe fact that SOME JACKASS PUT A BUNCHOF FREAK-ASS MOUNTAINS IN THE WAY.So, yeah. Here i am, like any budding brain sur-geon, driving in pitch darkness and fog and mistand eighteen other fucking negative conditionsthru the ludicrously jacknifing back roads ofVermont—THEE motherfucking CREEPIESTSTATE IN THE UNION, BAR NONE.Vermont is so fucking fucked up and spookylooking at night that one expects to see a ginger-bread house with a smiling and drooling StevenKing sitting on the front porch and a mountedNazgul guy clopping up the driveway aroundevery corner. This horror of impending creepi-tude is broken only by the sudden rush of truck-ers—presumably Nazgul as well, and outfittedwith grotesquely adorned black mesh truckercaps—blasting over hills, hell-bent for leather,going about 200 mph on crazy roads no sanesoul would feel comfortable doing thirty-five on.When i looked at the atlas before commencingthis particular leg of the journey, i estimated thattraveling from Vermont to Maine would take meabout one hour, round trip. It actually took morelike three or four, every fucking second white-knuckled and horrible. In New Hampshire, i dis-covered the pleasures of Dixville Notch (“1.5miles of steep and winding road”—now there’sthe fucking understatement of the century), aswell as the added sensual dimensions that amoose attack can bring to one’s love life. Narrowroads, high cliffs, zero visibility. What’s not tolike? At long last, i pass Lake Umbagog or LakeUggamabob or Lake Umgubmagob or someother hideous, nameless thing that was likelyhideous and nameless and ancient when ourworld was young, and, in the midst of an other-wise distinguished woods, i come upon a small,blue road sign reading “MAINE STATE LINE.”I pull my car just short of the sign, and, barefoot,exit my vehicle. If this were i cartoon, i wouldnow suddenly get flattened by a speedingexpress train that would appear out of nowhere,literally inches from my goal. Instead, i stepacross the imaginary line separating NH fromME, and do a little tap dance to the line “Hello,my honey, hello my sweetie” from that song thatMichigan J. Frog sings in Warner Brothers’renowned “One Froggy Evening” cartoon, andget back in my car. After a second’s pause, idecide that this is roundly unsatisfying, so i getback out and tap dance to the next line—”Hellomy ragtime gaaaal!”—then get back in my carfor keeps, and head back for my tent in Ontario.And why this is relevant is because, when Borisplayed in New Hampshire, we played with theRiverdales and Mr. T Experience, and stayed atJoe Queer’s house—and the Queers andRiverdales and Mr. T Experience were all onLookout!, as were the Smugglers, who werefrom Canada, which was where i was vacation-ing, and Tomoko recognized me from my oncejudging a Smugglers’ Dance Contest™. And thisis relevant because Kid Spike saw me too, and,according to Tomoko, Supersnazz vocalist KidSpike “loves” me. ME! ME! ME REV. NØRB!KID SPIKE LOVES ME! Kid Spike is also thesame age as me (said age now approaching“none of your god damn business” proportions)!I, very conveniently, also love Kid Spike. Ialmost mention to Tomoko that i had Kid Spike

22

nnoott iimmpplliiccaatteedd iinn ppuullll qquuootteess

rated Top Ten in my “Top 50 Hottest Chicks ofRock” column, but quickly and wisely decidenot to mention this, given the fact that Tomokonot being rated as highly as Kid Spike wouldalmost certainly result in widespread characterassassination flung my way (i mean, putting upwith a lifetime of Dirt Bike Jeanie trying to puther metaphorical foot up my metaphorical assfor ranking her a comparatively paltry #41 ismore than enough negative fallout for one dwee-bly scribe, thanks [but, come on, how high didBlender rank ya, woman? Besides, that was WesUnseld’s number! Actually, Wes Unseld was afat tub of crap. But it is Dirk Nowitski’s number!So, i mean, come on! A little gratitude here!])However, Kid Spike is also married now, which

tends to throw a damper on my wild ardor. But,i mean, still—it’s the principle of the thing. KidSpike and me, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!“Spike will have her antennae out now,” saysTomoko, “she will know I am having fun withNørb.” The fact that Tomoko actually knows theEnglish word for “antennae” is almost as brain-boggling as the fact that Kid Spike digs me! Andthis is relevant because i really dig antennae!And that is relevant because the word “anten-nae” was uttered at the Rockabilly Fest, whichwas at the casino, which was where SocialDistortion were playing, which is what i didn’tgo see because i was on vacation to Canada,which is where they have a red maple leaf ontheir flag, which is relevant because the bestalbum i’ve heard in a while is that A-Linesalbum on Sympathy (but can somebodyPLEASE get me the lyrics to “Four”? What thehell are they saying? “If I get four moreboyfriends I’ll get it done?” What the fuck doesTHAT mean? And can i watch? Lick the bowl?Etc.?), and, on the cover, all the A-Lines aredepicted wearing red dresses, the same color asthe maple leaf on Canada’s flag, which is rele-vant because the best act at the secondRockabilly Fest, the one i danced with Tomokoat, was the Bobbettes, best known for their 1957smasheroo “Mr. Lee” (you know... “one, two,three... look at Mr. Lee! Three, four five... lookat him jive!”), which is relevant not only because“Mr. Lee” was a favorite in-van Boris pun whenwe passed Albert Lea, Minnesota (i mean... ifyou’ve ever been in a band and traveled togeth-er in a van for an extended period of time, yourealize that you will go thru certain periodswhere the band will be bored off their ass, look-ing out the windows, attempting to create thebest/worst rock’n’roll pun from that which pre-sents itself to them as a sort of geekly competi-tion. On Boris’ West Coast Tour of 1997, mymagnum opus was “One, Two, Three... look atAlbert Lea” as we passed the Albert Lea exit,which was deftly countered by bassist Ric Six,

who, as we passed the exit for Nodine, MN, sang“Nodine... aw honey is that you?” to the tune ofChuck Berry’s “Nadine,” which i thought wasexcellent work on his part), and the Bobbetteswore—you guessed it—red dresses (please seethe latest edition of the “Norton News” emailnewsletter if you demand to have my claims ofthe Bobbettes’ greatness that night corroborat-ed). I dunno about you, but i could stand aroundlistening to, what, sixty-year-old black ladies inred dresses singing four-part vocal harmoniesand doing goofy little synchronized dancemovements for... well... a darn long time,frankly. And how this is relevant is an enigma.And how that is relevant is that the Riddler’s realname was “Edward Nigma” (actually, i think

they later made up some cockamamie storywhere “Edward Nigma” turned out not to be theRiddler’s real name. Needless to say, fuck that),and Frank Gorshin, THE ONE, TRUE RID-DLER (apart from myself), is DEAD! I mean,the Joker is obviously the best Batman villain(actually, probably the best comic book villainever), but the Riddler was always my favorite,just because he had a cool green and purple suitcovered in question marks. And Gorshin, ofcourse, was thee Riddler. The Riddler againstwhom all other Riddlers shall be judged! He cer-tainly kicked ass on Jim Carrey’s toadying retardRiddler in the third Batman movie, and, as forJohn Astin’s embarrassing shot at Riddlerism...well... let’s let the fact that Astin’s performanceas The Riddler was so bad it actually drewGorshin out of retirement stand as testament tohis attempt’s general lack of worth. I can onlyhope that the guy from the “Let This Be YourLast Battlefield” episode of Star Trek who washalf-white and half-black in stark opposition toGorshin’s half-black and half-white characterdied at the exact same time as Frank, in orderthat the grand cosmic balance be maintained.And how this is relevant is, well, perhaps, if iwere Frank Gorshin, as Tim Stegall claims i am,and, by implication, the Riddler as well, then iwould almost certainly say Riddle me this:What’s more punk, Mickey Bradley of theUndertones’Beatles Let It Be t-shirt, or the leadsinger of The Busy Signals’ home-made PACKbutton? And, of course, this would lead to greatspeculation: I’ve been listening to theUndertones since i was fifteen (in point of fact,as i told the band after their performance atChicago’s Bottom Lounge, their first album isthe album i most closely associate with being fif-teen) (and let’s thank fucking Jah above that i’mold enough that the album i associate mostacutely with being fifteen isn’t by Fifteen!), butthat PACK album is a lot cooler than the BeatlesLet It Be album, and the Let It Be album coverisn’t even particularly well-designed, since John

Lennon is facing off the album cover (THEO-RETICAL HIGH TRUTH OF GRAPHICDESIGN: No one should ever be facing off apage. Everyone should be depicted facing intothe center of the page. It’s, like, a rule. You nowowe me one quarter’s tuition), and, besides,although everyone should be pictured on thefront of their album cover, NO ONE should bedepicted on their band’s t-shirts. And, of course,the PACK logo is that cool magenta scrawl,which looks pretty damn sweet across a blackbackground. And, of course, the Busy Signalswere pretty cool when they opened for theUndertones, and played a cover of Protex’s“Don’t Ring Me Up,” which was relevantbecause that Protex 45 was on the same label,

Good Vibrations, as the Undertones first recordwas (and, of course, both “Busy Signals” and“Don’t Ring Me Up” imply telephones, which iskinda funny because no one really gets busy sig-nals any more, because people either have callwaiting, or voicemail, or some goddamn thing,but, yet, in punkdom, the busy signal is now atits highest popularity [e.g. both Boris TheSprinkler and the Exploding Hearts havingsongs called “Busy Signals,” the band calledBusy Signals, etc., etc., etc.]), not to mention thefact that the singer of the Busy Signals isWAAAAY hotter than Mickey Bradley, so, imean, heck, a tough call, right? And, how this isrelevant is that I COULD VERY LITERALLYGO ON ALL FUCKING NIGHT RAT-TLING OFF VAGUELY INTERCONNECT-ED OBSERVATIONS INVOLVING THEUNDERTONES AND THE BUSY SIGNALSAND THE BLACK RHYTHM CHICKENAND THE WHITE RHYTHM CHICKENAND SUPERSNAZZ AND THE BOB-BETTES AND THE COMETS AND THEAND THE BEATLES AND THE PACKAND THE GROOVIE GHOULIES ANDBORIS AND THE RIVERDALES AND THEMTX AND THE QUEERS AND MY TRIPTO CANADA AND FRANK GORSHINAND THE A-LINES AND PROTEX ANDTHE SMUGGLERS and as fucking stupid andpointless as they might be, they would all beinherently more worthy of scholarly contempla-tion than the perceived sins of Social Distortion,a band who, to me, can do no sin because i couldnot possibly care less about them. That said, ifthe Inner Gorshin in you is just dying to knowwhat's punker, Mickey Bradley's Let It Be t-shirtor the singer for the Busy Signals' "PACK" but-ton, the singer for the Busy Signals had aboyfriend, so it's Mickey Bradley's Beatles t-shirt all the way!

Løve,Nørb

23

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II felt somebody’s foot nudging my ribs, try-ing to wake me up, but I wasn’t giving in justyet. It was one of those mornings where youjust don’t want to open your eyes, not becauseyou were too hung over or didn’t want face theindiscretions of the previous night, butbecause you just didn’t want to admit to your-self that you, in fact, really did sleep next tothat puddle of dog vomit, that that smell wasindeed an ashtray that someone had inadver-tently knocked over while you were asleep.During those first few moments before fullconsciousness, you can convince yourself thatyou’re at home in your cozy bed and you canget up to go to the bathroom whenever youwant without stepping in anything, and nopromise of coffee or breakfast or warm sun-light can pry that away from you.

Still, I could sense the person’s restlessness,and no matter how tempting ignorance can besometimes, I didn’t want to spend part of avacation hoping I don’t accidentally inhaleone of the many cigarette butts spread out nextto my face.

Mindful of the various spills near where Ihad slept, I crawled out of my sleeping bagand looked at Jay, the person who had pokedme in the rib, and asked, “Where’s everybodyelse, Jay?”

He gave a drowsy shrug and said, “They’reall still asleep.”

I scanned the room for my travel compan-ions and found them all with bedding condi-tions similar to mine. “Jeez. It looks likeeverybody just slept where they fell,” I said.

“Yeah, we gotta get out of here,” Jayreplied. “I’m starving.”

I agreed, as I wasn’t too jazzed on sittingin Jay’s living room, which smelled about aspleasant as one might expect from such sur-roundings. “How hard do you think it’sgoing to be to get all these fuckers up and outof here?”

Jay shrugged again. “Last night got prettyout of hand.”

Snippets of the previous night flashedthrough my head. I had finally retired at about4AM during the second viewing of TimeBandits and vaguely recalled war whoops anddrunken wrestling match proposals while Iwas asleep. I glanced around the room againand asked, “How many of them are even wear-ing pants?”

This didn’t elicit a shrug from Jay. This heknew. “Not too damn many.”

“So we’re probably looking at a late lunchinstead of breakfast, huh?”

Jay nodded his response and there were a

few moments where we looked at the groundand thought about our next course of action.After a few minutes, we both stood up and Jaysaid, “First I’m gonna put on a pot of coffee,and then I guess I’m gonna go look for somesticks to poke people with.”

The next several hours were a frustratingsearch for pants, socks, wallets, and anythingelse a person could possible lose during TimeBandits-inspired war whoops and wrestlingmatches. Several of us, myself included, hadtrouble getting both shoes on before we need-ed a smoke break. Soon the front yard wasfull of people in various stages of undress,slowly piecing together what had just hap-pened and coming to terms with the fact theywould never see that sock or retainer orshoelace ever again.

With his second cup of coffee, Tommy,surely the voice of reason among us, snappedout of it. “Buffet,” he yelled, slapping histhigh for added affect.

This, however, was not a rare occurrencewith Tommy and no one paid any attentionexcept me. “What?”

“Jay was talking about a fried chicken buf-fet last night and I want to go there,” he said,and then, just to reiterate, “Buffet!”

Jay looked doubtful. “People have beenmaking noise about a burrito run. I don’tknow how easily they’re gonna be swayedfrom that.”

Tommy’s face wrinkled up like it always didwhen he got mad. “You know what? Fuck bur-ritos.” He repeated himself loudly to get every-body’s attention. “That’s all we ever eat. Weate burritos all through Texas, we ate burritoswhen we went across the border, we ate burri-tos when we got back, and we ate fucking bur-ritos last night before we went to Jay’s house.We’re finally in a town where we can kick backand eat a fucking meal and you guys want thesame fast food shit we’ve been eating all week.Hey, I’ve got a better idea! Why don’t we justeat some ramen like we do when we’re athome?”

“But burritos are delicious,” offered Matt,who didn’t know Tommy well enough toknow that there would be no disputing hislogic.

Tommy just shook his head and said, “Fuckyour burrito, Matt. Fuck your burrito,” as he lita smoke and walked back into the house, likethe Lorax, finally losing faith in the ways ofthe people around him. I followed him.

“Wait,” I said, “I want fried chicken, too.”With a serious, workmanlike look on his

face, he nodded and said, “Let’s do this.”

Once we got in the van, I took stock of whoelse was coming. There was Tommy, Jay, Jay’sroommate Eric, Bill the all-time driver, andHeather, the lone female in our caravan out toCalifornia and the only other person who had-n’t felt the need to watch Time Bandits twice ina row. “So wait a minute. How many went withMatt to get burritos?”

Jay shook his head. “Too damn many.”“What’s wrong with people?” Tommy

asked. “It’s like just eating a bowl of vanillawhenever you want some ice cream. There’snothing wrong with it, vanilla ice cream’sgood, and hell, you can’t go wrong with icecream.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Eric said. “I’mnot a fan of butterscotch ice cream. Neverhave been.”

“Let’s not get into semantics. What I’m say-ing is vanilla ice cream is fine, but every oncein a while wouldn’t you like some marshmal-lows or some cookies on that shit? Wouldn’tyou like to try one of the other thirty flavors?”

“Are we going to get ice cream or chicken?”Bill asked.

“Chicken,” Tommy said. “The ice cream’sjust a metaphor.”

“Oh,” Bill said. “Can we get ice creamlater?”

Tommy was getting a little flustered.“Whatever, you’re getting me off track here.Listen, I love burritos as much as the next guy,probably a whole fucking lot more than thenext guy. I might as well change my name toJoe Burrito I love ‘em so much, but you haveto draw the line somewhere. Remember NewOrleans?” We remembered. “Who looks for aburrito stand in New Orleans? Surrounded bycheap Cajun food and the motherfucker wantsTaco Bell.”

Realizing that Tommy’s rants could andoften did go on all day, Heather wisely inter-rupted. “So Jay, what’s the deal with thischicken buffet?”

“Yeah, is it Popeye’s?” Bill asked.“Popeye’s doesn’t have buffets,” Heather

said.“They do, too, they’re just uncommon,” Bill

retorted. “I think it’s only like one in tenPopeye’s franchises has a buffet and the restare just take-out places.”

“Yeah, I’ve been to one,” I said. “Theydon’t put out fries…”

“But if you ask for ‘em, they’ll make ‘emfresh and give you your own basket!” Billinterjected. Bill didn’t get excited about amany things, but french fries really did thetrick.

JOSH LANE

KKKKIIIINNNNDDDD OOOOFFFF AAAA SSSSEEEEWWWWEEEERRRR“I guess I’mgonna go look forsome sticks topoke people with.”

We At e Sa n d .

“Nah, it’s not a Popeye’s,” Jay said, bring-ing the conversation back to earth. “It’s like aHomestyle Buffet, but it’s mostly just chickenand vegetables.”

“No salad bar or dessert bar?”“That stuff’s pretty bare-bones,” Jay said.

“It’s a pretty white-bread restaurant. It’s thebest chicken I’ve ever eaten, though. A bitpricey, but it’s worth it.”

Bill scoffed. “Popeye’s is like six bucks. Isthis place better than Popeye’s?”

Jay laughed. “Dude, this makes Popeye’staste like warmed-over Chicken McNuggets.”

We pulled into the parking lot and con-firmed Jay’s assessment: it was a pretty white-bread restaurant. Families piled in and out ofsensible cars, seemingly straight from church.It was odd to see so many people wearing suchmeticulously nice clothes going to a restaurantthat specialized in such messy food. Tommywas the first to bring up this point.

“I know it’s not like they’re going to a ribshack or anything, but jeez, fried chicken…you have to eat it with your hands if you wantto get all the meat off it. Otherwise it’s notworth it,” he said.

Bill, nodding in agreement, said, “And theseare the people that probably beat their kids forhaving bad table manners.”

“Exactly. Fried chicken is totally a roll-up-your-sleeves, elbows-on-the-table, lick-the-

grease-off-your-fingers food. Why can’t peo-ple go home and change clothes before they goeat? They’re obviously not in a hurry sincethey had time to take the Oldsmobile throughthe automated car wash. Why not swing by thehouse and throw on an old T-shirt and somesweatpants?”

“Well, they probably don’t want to look likeus,” Jay said. “Are we going to sit in the vanall day and talk shit about these squares or arewe going to eat?”

As soon as he looked at the menu, Tommygot the same wrinkled-up look on his face thathe got when someone suggested burritos.“Thirteen bucks?”

Jay nodded. “I told you that on the wayhere. It’s a bit pricey but it’s worth it. That’sexactly what I said.”

“Yeah, but I thought you meant, like, eightbucks pricey. I thought we were talking about‘more expensive than a hamburger but peoplelike us can still afford to eat here’ pricey,”Tommy said.

This got the same shrug from Jay that I hadgotten when I first woke up. “Well, you’re theone that wanted fried chicken. Fried chicken’snot cheap.” Bill once again pointed out thatPopeye’s was like six bucks but Jay ignoredhim. “If you want to go somewhere else, we’llgo somewhere else, but if I don’t get some-thing to eat in the next fifteen minutes, I’mgoing to be really pissed off. I already spent an

hour this morning looking for your shoelaceeven though we could have walked down toa damn drugstore and bought another pair ofshoelaces for a quarter.”

This made Tommy stop and think for aminute. He scratched his chin and said, “No.You know what? I’m staying. I’m gonna paythat thirteen bucks for the buffet just likeeverybody else here. And you know whatelse? I’m gonna get my money’s worth.”

I, along with probably everybody else atthe table, sensed another rant, Tommy’sfourth in the little bit less than three hoursthat he had been awake. “Let’s not to turnthis into some class war thing, Tommy, let’sjust eat some food,” Heather said.

“Fuck class war,” he said, shaking hishead. “This isn’t about bourgies or the rulingclass or the government or anything likethat. Look around. This place is packed,packed to the fucking brim, with nice, polite,starched-collar people that bring their kidsand grannies and whoever else out to lunchon Sundays and they plunk down thirteenbucks a head without even thinking twice.How many of them even eat five dollars’worth of food? They get a nice little saladand scarf down some complimentary breadand butter, then they pick at a thigh withtheir forks and announce that they’re stuffed.This place is making fucking bank, and noneof these people realize that they’re gettingripped off.”

25

illustration by Mitch Clem • www.nothingnice.com

We laughed in thefaces of thesePhilistines, unbuckling ourbelts andhigh-fiving each other enthusiastically all the way.

“And that’s not class-related?” I said.“Oh, I’m sure it’s got something to do with

class,” he said. “I’m sure it’s not an accidentthat this place was built in the middle of a sub-urban housing tract, miles away from any‘undesirable’ minorities, but that’s not whatI’m talking about. This buffet… I’m taking itback. For everybody that’s ever stayed awayfrom here because it was too expensive and foreverybody that’s too stupid to see their ownwastefulness, I’m gonna get my money’s wortheven if I have to go outside and make myselfthrow up to do it.”

At that moment, I realized that one ofTommy’s rants was actually making sense tome. It sort of confused me at first, because Icouldn’t believe that I agreed with him, but asI looked around the table, I realized that every-one else at the table agreed with him. And thusthe gauntlet was thrown. There would be nochicken tender baskets or hot wing samplersfor us that day; no, the thirteen-dollar friedchicken buffet would be the only way wewould be able to look Tommy in the face with-out turning away in shame.

The staff had no idea what they were in for.

I had never eaten at a buffet with any of myfive companions, but it’s important to note thatexactly half of our dining party (Jay, Bill, andTommy) were pretty beefy guys who lookedlike they practically lived by the mantra of “AllYou Can Eat” and might have even developedstrategies for times like these. The other half ofus were of pretty average build but with decep-tively large appetites; I had seen Eric andHeather wolf down enough burritos over thepast week to know that they could put a dent inthis place.

When we all sat back down after our firstround at the Sneezeguard, Tommy began tochastise Eric for foolishly piling too much onhis plate. “You never sprint at the beginning ofa marathon,” he said, like some fat MidwesternConfucius, “and you never pile your first platehigh with food.”

Eric laughed it off. “What the hell doyou know about marathons? Did you seeone on TV?”

“I’m not joking,” Tommy said. “This is seri-ous business. You have to get into a rhythm,pace yourself.”

“Otherwise the terrorists win, Eric,” Heathersaid. “Do you want the terrorists to win?”

Tommy shook his head disapprovingly. “Jokeall you guys want, you’ll be holding your belliesand begging for mercy after two plates.”

Eric started to respond but Tommy said,“Talking time’s over. Let’s go to town.” And soit began.

We started off slowly, sampling the selectionof vegetables, dipping our toes in their culinarylake. From then on, it was not-fucking-aroundtaken to the highest level: plate after plate ofdrumsticks dipped in mashed potatoes, freshbiscuits soaking in gravy, butter on everything.The staff was completely unprepared for suchan onslaught, and had to send two waitresses toclear off all of our dirty plates and refill ourwater glasses. The first hour and a half was afrenzy the likes of which I have never seenequaled, before or since. We practically drankthe chicken off the bone, and we could hear thekitchen staff cursing us for coming in that day.

But then the roof caved in. Eric began to

slow down and push himself back from thetable a bit. “I never thought I’d say this,Tommy, but I should have listened to youradvice,” he said. “I’m running out of gas.”

Tommy set his half-devoured chicken breastdown, wiped his mouth, and cleared his throat,while Eric braced himself for a tongue-lashing.“You had a good run, Eric. Let me just ask youone question: was it worth thirteen dollars?”Eric’s smile was the only response necessary.

“Here’s the keys,” Bill said, “in case maybeyou want to go somewhere for a while.”

Eric took the keys and said, “Nah, I thinkI’m just gonna take a nap. That took a lot out ofme,” and he began the deliberate, labored walkout to the van.

Soon after, Heather decided to make the sametrip. “There’s really only so much enjoyment Ican get out of this,” she said. “There’s a pointwhere I can’t even taste the food anymore.”

“I understand,” said Tommy. “It stops beingfun and it starts being… I don’t know, exerciseor something. You gave it a gallant effort,though, Heather. I’m proud to know you.”

It was at this point that we had pretty muchworn out our welcome, but this would onlyhave posed a problem to the weakest of men.When they stopped picking up our dirty plates,we set them on the floor. When they stoppedrefilling our water glasses, we refilled them inthe bathroom sink. When a man at a neighbor-ing table remarked, “Looks like you guys arestarting to take root,” Jay responded with,“Dawson’s Creek called. They want theirsweater vest back,” which would have pissedthe guy off if it hadn’t been muffled by amouthful of food. We laughed in the faces ofthese Philistines,unbuckling our beltsand high-fiving eachother enthusiasticallyall the way.

Suddenly Tommydropped his chickenand stood up.“Gentlemen, I thinkI’m finished eatingmy lunch.”

We were stunned.He had been so steady,such a beacon ofinspiration for the restof us just when wethought we couldn’teat another bite. “No,dude, no. You can’tthrow in the towelnow, not when we’vecome this far,” Billsaid, tugging onTommy’s shirt.

“No, lunch is overfor me,” he replied,then he smiled wide.“When I get back fromthe bathroom, I’mgonna start on dinner.”

Around 8:30, thedirty looks that wehad been getting sinceabout two in the after-noon turned down-right hostile, and we

knew that closing time was fast approaching.“That’s cool,” Tommy said. “They can take offwhenever they want. I’ll help ‘em open thismotherfucker tomorrow morning.” But in real-ity, we all knew it would have to end soon. Wehad all worked shitty restaurant jobs and we allknew how annoying it was to have customershanging out while you were just trying to cleanup and get the hell out of there.

After ten minutes or so, one of the busboyswalked over to our table, which was by thattime the only one in the restaurant that didn’thave its chairs stacked on top of it. “Listen,could you guys finish it up here? We’d reallylike to go home soon.”

“Sign says ‘All You Can Eat.’ We’re still eat-ing,” Jay said.

The busboy sighed. “I know what the signsays. The guys in the kitchen said they’d cookyou whatever you want to take with you, butyou have to promise to leave.”

Jay was about to take him up on that offer,but Tommy stopped him. “I think we’re justabout done here, thanks. The service wasexcellent, by the way,” he said. The busboyrolled his eyes.

We settled the check and walked out thefront door, sort of half-leaning on each otherfor support, bellies swollen but heads heldhigh, when all of a sudden Tommy grabbedonto my shoulder and puked in the shrubs. Weall looked at each other and laughed.

He finally made good on his threat.

–Josh Lane

If political humor is themotivation for comics,this paper has hog tied itand won the blue ribbonat the state fair.

GARY HORNBERGER

28

SSQQUUEEEEZZZZEE MMYYYY HHHHOORRNN

BBaseball season has begun, and besidesbeing just a game, the sport is a study inhuman behavior and a total lack of socialgraces. I have been to several games and everyone has been amazing. Far more “boo”s forpetty crimes than the majors. I’ve only been toDodger games, so this might be biased, but canit be that one stadium houses all the lunatics? Ifind that hard to believe. This sort of crazygoes beyond painting faces, no shirts in freez-ing weather, or wearing silly costumes. No,this is the sort of embarrassment that gets onebanned from ballparks.

It started with opening day. As we rolled upto pay for parking, we noticed that some nuthas made his $40,000 car into an anti-Giantsbillboard complete with a huge Dodger flagflying high above the trunk. Funny, right?Well, it gets better. Not twenty seconds later,we pull up next to a car with an inflatable dollin the likeness of Barry Bonds wearing an “I’ma Cheater” shirt poking out the sunroof. Now Irealize that this is funny to a Dodger fan, butwhat does that look like to someone drivingdown the 5 or the 101 freeways? More fun iswaiting inside.

If one does decide to wear the opponents’colors inside the stadium, they had best be pre-

pared to be tarred and feathered with peanutsand soda, and if they do let you find a seat, itwill be a verbal assault for nine innings. Ofcourse, don’t restrict the peanut throwing tojust the men; the woman and children are fullyencouraged to join in. It seems the fans willingto resist only if you are really old.

Back to opening day. Once the game hasbegun and the catcalls for the opposing lineupare over, the real fun starts. We are all familiarwith the beach ball at sporting events, but nowthe fans are getting creative. It seems that onecan make an inflatable facsimile of a Balcosteroid bottle and tap it around in the stands. Iwonder if they will do the same for Giambiwhen he comes to town?

As mild as these events are, let me nowdescribe some of the colorful characters thathave shared the sections in which we have satthis season. First is the obsessed beach ballfan. This guy wants one worse than my dogwants a tennis ball. He was sitting in front ofus, high in the outfield seats, when all of thesudden he spotted a beach ball. He leapt to hisfeet and yelled, “BEACH BALL!” for thewhole park to hear, and the whole while, hisentire body was shaking like a wet dog. I triednot to make eye contact with him.

Next on the list are the nuts at DodgerPhoto Day, or as my friend Ricky likes to callit, Dodger Petting Zoo Day, because there is athree foot high plastic fence and a line ofstring to keep us creepy folks away from theplayers as they walk down one of three aislesmade in the outfield. It is sort of like Dawn ofthe Dead except that the fans were not chanti-ng “BRAINS!” as they were pawing at theplayers. Okay, I did high-five Brad Penny, butI did not scare Izturus like one guy did byscreaming at him that he was the best, great,better than Jeter, over and over. Once again, Iavoided eye contact.

At the same event, as the crowd begins toexit the field, a camera crew came over towhere we were standing and asked a fewquestions to the woman next to us, but whenshe was told that she would be on television,she declined to answer. In moved the crazyDodger fan, and the man holding the mikeasked, “What does Dodger blue mean toyou?” This opened the floodgates. Theresponse was much like that of a first grader’sparagraph on why he likes sharks or some-thing. Dodger blue meant to him that hebleeds Dodger blue, like this one time whenhe was in jail and this guy shanked him, hebled Dodger blue. Notice that I didn’t usequotes, but it did sound something like thatand I decided that it would be best if I left. Ithas been so bad this season that the Dodgerorganization tried to get the L.A.P.D. to worksecurity the games and they declined, so thepowers that be came up with rules of conductthat were handed out, announced, and postedat the ball park. That seems to have done littlegood.

So what have I learned from all of this? I’mnot sure. There is something about Dodgerstadium that I like, maybe because that’swhere I went when I was a kid, though I willsay that I wasn’t always a fan of the team. Itend to follow players rather than teams. Whatis it that sets people off about sports? I can’tbelieve that these people act the same at theirjobs or at family functions, so what is theallure of acting like a jackass at a sportingevent, what snaps in some heads that says,“I’ll take a ride on the convict bus?” I don’tknow, but I will keep entertaining myself bywatching two games for the price of one tick-et. I don’t know why the fans have to be thisway. Hell, even today while pulling out of afast food drive-through window, I was politeand let the man pushing an ice cream cart go

Nine Innings of Verbal Assault

in front of me. He was wearing a Giants hatand I was wearing my Dodgers hat. Can’t weall just get along?

COMIC PRESS NEWSApril 2005Free if you’re in SacramentoSo there I am in Sacramento, waiting for my wifeto get out of her meeting, and I drive past thiscool indie record store. I think, “After I pick herup, we’ll go check it out.” It was a way cool storeand mixed in with the flyers at the front door isthis cool newspaper. The cover states, “EditorialCartoon & Humor Monthly,” what could be bet-ter for a long weekend getaway? If politicalhumor is the motivation for comics, this paperhas hog tied it and won the blue ribbon at thestate fair. The only thing that is lacking is that fora paper based in the city of the state capitol thereseems to be no fun being poked at the governor.I picked something similar to this up in SantaCruz once, but it wasn’t political in nature. Mostof the humor is directed at social security reformand energy consumption. Personally, I love thisstuff. It is so strange that this stuff shows the sim-plicity of doing things the wrong way, yet no onein government seems to pay heed. I love thispaper. Now I just have to see if they’ll mailcopies to the L.A. area. (Comic Press News, POBox 162429, Sacramento, CA 95816,www.comicpress.com)

30 DAYS OF HATE$3.00 U.S.By the Jessica Gao DynastyAll right, so I’m at the comic and card show

that I often frequent and there on a corner is aguy selling these indie comics. I haven’t seenan indie comic at this show for three years. SoI buy two titles, three comics in total, andthey turn out to be really cool. 30 Days isgreat. Literally, this girl lists things that pissher off for thirty days. I can’t believe howmany things we have in common and I hopethere are others like us, because she hits thetruth way too often. Not much in the way ofart, but the way she writes about experiencescan create a mental picture rapidly. She doesalso lists a few loves, just enough to let youknow that she’s not sitting in a cell some-where. The only problem is that there isn’t awhole lot of contact information on this book.There’s no press info, yet the book seems toowell put together to be a homemade book. Ifthis book can be found elsewhere, good luck,otherwise go to the Frank & Sons card showWednesday nights and Saturdays in Walnut,CA. (yeknom@ucla.edu)

DANG$2.00 U.S.By Martin CendredaBig heads and little bodies adorn the characterin this little comic. Dang is the autobiographi-cal musings of its creator. It’s kinda likeCalvin and Hobbes without the Hobbes. Thisguy creates some of the most bizarre situationsa comic character can think up. Dang may besmall physically but it’s big on humor whenyou crack it open. If you happen to procure theX-mas edition you’ll also enjoy some creativewrapping paper. This one was also found out

at Frank & Sons. (632 1/2 Micheltorena, LA,CA 90026, zurikrobot.com)

TOWN O CRAZIES Vol. 3, Issue 1Short stories by various writersThe bizarre art of Town O Crazies put to story isa must read. The previous issues of Town OCrazies have just been artwork from what I canremember, but having stories behind themmakes it so much creepier. If these shorts werea movie, it would be like letting Tim Burtonremake Creepshow. The best story is “Jed’sApple Tree” by Jerome Opena. It’s a brutalstory of revenge, yet so satisfying you can’t putit down. The artwork is horrifically beautifuland tweaks the brain into what witch trials musthave been like. If Town O Crazies ever goescollection hardback, push your way to the frontof the line, behind me, of course. (ScrapbookManifesto,1000 Powell St. #73, SF, CA 94108)

DUPPYBy AnsisThis one’s a collection of shorts that shows theartist’s fascination with zombies and robotswith a spatter of voodoo. The nice thing aboutzombies, I guess, is that there is no dialect;after all, the dead can’t speak. Didn’t find thisone giving me a ride, maybe because of theorder in which I read the comics this timearound. Not to say it was bad, it’s just kindadisjointed for me. Whenever I’d get into onestory, it ended abruptly and was followed by acomplete 180. (14 Saxon Rd., Newton, MA02467, www.ansis.info)

HHarvey kept telling me that I was gonnalose my job if I didn’t stop working so hard.Harvey was the boss. I needed to listen tohim, but I couldn’t get my mind wrappedaround it. I was used to working construc-tion jobs with a redneck breathing down myneck saying shit like, “Hurry, hurry, hurry.We gotta pour this slab in an hour.” Or, “Ifthis roof ain’t nailed off by lunchtime,you’re working through lunch.” This newjob at the School Board warehouse was astrange and beautiful world for me.

I didn’t actually work in the warehouse. Iworked outside of it, in an old schoolportable. My job was to stack obsolete text-books and library books by grade and sub-ject. I was given three months to do this.Three weeks into the job, I was more thanhalf finished. That was why Harvey keptwarning me to slow down. He told me, “I’llbring you one pallet of books this week.Make it last.”

I was working so hard because Christinawasn’t returning my calls. When I worked, Ididn’t think about her. I didn’t think aboutanything except the obsolete books. As soonas I stopped working, though. Boy, don’tyou know I was thinking about her.

The problem was that halfway throughMonday, I was halfway through my pallet. IfHarvey saw this, he’d get on my case. I did-n’t want Harvey on my case. I liked Harvey.And it wouldn’t do me any good to lose thisjob. So I slowed things down. I combedthrough the stack of old library books. Ifound a nonfiction book about unsolvedcrimes and read the chapter about Jack theRipper. But this wasn’t helping me kill time.I’d burned twenty minutes, tops. I neededsomething big and longwinded. Something Icould lose myself in for hours, so I startedlooking at spine sizes. I found one reallythick book called Tom Jones, and I couldn’tbelieve it, because this sucker was nine hun-dred pages long, and that seemed like a lot towrite about a lounge singer. I pulled it out ofthe stacks.

One paragraph in, I realized that it wasn’tabout that Tom Jones. It was an old Britishnovel about this kid who, pretty much fromthe time he crawled out of the womb, gotyanked around by women. I could relate. Iliked that, right from the beginning, theauthor said it was his job to tell a story toordinary people. I was nothing if not ordi-nary. So I walked around to the back steps ofthe portable and took a seat. From where Iwas, I’d be able to hear if anyone came to

check up on me. And I could catch a breezeoff the swamps to the west. I settled in for along read.

The thing about Tom was that he was nutsfor this broad Sophia, and he had good rea-son to believe that she dug him, but every-thing—class, society, some weasely rich kidnamed Blifil—conspired to keep them apart.But fucking Tom hung in there. And he hada good time hanging in there. He traveled allaround, he drank, he slept with olderwomen, and sure he ended up at the gallows,but it seemed like a fun ride there. So I real-ly got into Tom’s adventures.

I worked out a daily schedule. I’d stackbooks for my first hour at work, and for a halfhour before and after lunch. The rest of theday, I’d read. Sometimes I’d hang out at theback steps. Sometimes, I’d lie across a bed ofobsolete science textbooks. Sometimes I’d siton an office chair that I’d rescued out of thetrash and pulled all the wheels off of so that itwould sit flat. I spent about six hours a dayhanging out with Tom Jones.

I liked to see myself as Tom, too. I washanging in there. I wasn’t getting drunk ortraveling or sleeping with older women, butI was nuts for Christina and holding outhope. We’d dated for two months during thespring semester. When the summer hadcome along, Christina went home to LongIsland, and I went home to central Florida.We had plans for phone calls and letters andstuff. I sent two letters that she didn’trespond to. We connected once or twice onthe phone. After that, I left messages until Ifelt like a stalker. Then I quit calling.

My buddy George lived a couple of townsover from Christina. Their parents belongedto the same country club. George told methat Christina was running around with somerich kid from Long Island. I didn’t believehim. Blifil was trying to feed Tom Jones thesame kind of shit about Sophia. Tom hung inthere, and so did I.

At the end of that week, Tom got savedfrom the gallows. He hooked up withSophia. Harvey came by the portable, sawthat books on the pallet had been emptiedand stacked, and he said, “You’re doing agood job, son.” I started feeling good aboutmy chances.

The next Monday, Harvey brought meanother pallet of books and told me to makethem last all week. I nodded and said Iwould, but I was lying. I got right to work,sorting and stacking books. I worked like

mad. Broke a sweat, even. And the palletwas empty by two o’clock.

I sat on the back steps and unfolded theletter that was in my pocket. I reread it again.Tom Jones may have gotten away with allthat shit, but I wasn’t going to. I had myDear John letter in my hands. George wasn’tshitting me. Christina had another guy.

I thought back to the first date I had withChristina. We’d gone to a party that herfriends were having just off campus. It was aMardi Gras party. Everyone but us was incostume. The house was loud and tight andhot and Christina said to me, “Steal thosetwo bottles and let’s get out of here.”

I grabbed the tequila and margarita mixlike they belonged to me, and we went outinto the backyard. It was packed, too, butChristina told me to follow her. She climbedonto the handrail of the deck, and pulled her-self onto the roof from there. I handed thebottles up to her, and climbed onto the roof,too. We walked over the peak and sat downjust over the front porch. I pried the pourspout off the tequila, poured margarita mixstraight into the bottle, and shook it up. Itook one taste, just to make sure it was allright, then handed it to Christina. She drankstraight from the bottle but with a raisedpinkie. A child of breeding.

We hung out on the roof and watched theparty and costumes from up there. It wasexciting, way up there with a pretty girl anda stolen bottle. With everyone floatingaround below me. Christina drank and toldthe kind of stories that you can only tellwhen you’re twenty years old and on a firstdate: insignificant adolescent moments thatsound sweet when her eyes can glow a littleand the moon is right. In between stories,Christina kept saying, “I hope I don’t get toodrunk to climb down.” I could tell it scaredher, but she liked the fear. And that’s exactlyhow I felt about her.

So when she sent me that shitty, typewrit-ten letter and I read it on the back steps ofthat portable, that’s what I thought about: thesweet moment of anticipation whenChristina could’ve been everything. I didn’tthink about the times she called me herwhite trash toy. I didn’t think about that onetime when we were playing darts and shethrew a dart at me, just fucking around, butit went into an eyehole of my Chucks andstuck in my foot. And I definitely didn’tthink about all the bad shit I did to her,which was probably the worst of it. I justthought of that one perfect moment, and got

She drank straightfrom the bottle butwith a raised pinkie. A child of breeding.

SEAN CARSWELL

The Obsolete Books Department

AA MMOONNKKEEYYYY TTOO RRIIIIDDDDEE TTHHEE DDDDOOGGGG

31

mad that it didn’t work out.I was so angry that I went inside to ask

Harvey for another pallet of books, justbecause I knew it would piss him off. Hesaid, “Damn it, son. Slow down.” But hepointed to a forklift and a pallet, and I gotthe books my damn self.

I did slow down the next day. I found acopy of Catcher in the Rye in the stacks.I’d never read it and always meant to, so Isat down on the reclaimed office chair andgot started.

I don’t know if it was because I was madabout Christina or what, but I couldn’t getinto it. Something about that kid Holden.He was such a whiner. And so rich. I guessthat was my problem. He was so rich. He gotprivate school paid for him and he didn’teven care and even got kicked out and hereI was, working construction and in ware-houses to help pay my way through college.It pissed me off. I pictured Holden as exact-ly the kind of rich New Yorker whoChristina had taken up with. It made memad. It wasn’t the right book for me. I fin-ished it, but only because I didn’t have muchelse to do.

Next, I pulled a book out of the stackscalled The Joke. It was from Czechoslo-vakia, but translated into English. It wasabout this kid who couldn’t separate lovefrom hate and had a fucked up relationshipwith a really selfish girl. That calmed medown quite a bit. I spent so much time read-ing that Harvey came out at the end of theweek just to make sure I was still showingup for work.

The next week, I was depressed. All theanger had worn me out. It was easy to workat a slow pace. I plowed through half a pal-let of books in two days, not stopping to readbut getting about as much done as when Ihad stopped to read. No sweat was broken. Ijust picked up books, one at a time, trudgedover to the stacks, shelved the books, andtrudged back to the pallet. It was pitiful.

This probably would’ve gone on indefi-nitely if I hadn’t come across a copy ofGreat Expectations. I’d never been a fan ofCharles Dickens, but this was a really coolhardcover copy. It was tiny, like a cheappaperback, and the pages were made out ofthat paper that Bibles are sometimes madeof. The kind that you can roll up and smoke.I sat on the reclaimed office chair and gotstarted.

Again, it was a book about a poor kid whogoes nuts over a rich broad. I liked that. AndI could tell that this poor kid probably was-n’t gonna get the broad in the end. Or, if hedid, she wouldn’t be all that he’d hoped for.So I was down with this book. It was sad andself-indulgent and matched my mood. I readfor the rest of the day.

Towards the end of the book, Harvey cameout to see me. One of the warehouse clerkshad gotten arrested. It was a minor posses-sion charge, but the clerk was black and thiswas the South, so he got sixty days in thecounty pen. Harvey didn’t want to hire some-

one to replace the clerk, and I hadabout sixty days before the fallsemester, so he told me to getcracking with the rest of thebooks, then he’d transfer me tothe warehouse proper. I couldn’thave been happier.

I spent a week stacking the restof the portable. Harvey set asidea forklift for me, so in the morn-ing, I could grab a pallet, unloadit by eleven, get a new one, andempty it by quitting time. All thework felt good. I felt usefulagain. I started to accept thatChristina was part of my past. Istopped thinking much about her.

On my first day in the bigwarehouse, Harvey gave me apacking slip. I had to have all thebooks on pallets and ready to shipout by three o’clock. I was doneby noon. I asked Harvey for anew slip. “You’re gonna have tolearn to work right, son,” he said.“Now get out of here.” I asked theother guys in the warehouse whatI was supposed to do next, andthey told me not to be an asshole.I grabbed a copy of The Strangerfrom the racks and headed backout to my portable until it wastime to load the trucks.

I got the hang of the big ware-house pretty quick. I learned toload and hide my pallets early, then makemyself scarce. Sometimes I napped onboxes of salisbury steaks in the cooler.Sometimes I hung out with the old ladieswho repaired the instructional films. Theyweren’t all that interesting to talk to, butthey worked in the air conditioning, and sit-ting in air conditioning was better than sit-ting in none. They’d spend all day rewindingreels of film and taping the film wherever itcracked or split. Sometimes, they’d let meset up a projector and watch a movie. Themovies were the exact same ones I’d sleptthrough in high school, but it was more funto sleep through them when I was making$6.75 an hour. One old lady who repairedfilm was named Gertie. She took a littleshine to me. She kept telling me about hergranddaughter Tammy. About what a greatgirl she was, what a catch, and I should real-ly meet her. I humored Gertie. I’d put upwith a lot for air conditioning. And who wasI to crush ol’ Gertie’s daydreams?

Only, one day, with about five weeks leftin the summer, I went into Harvey’s office.All the clerks were hanging around, gossip-ing like a sewing circle. I got my packingslip and started to clear out, but Harvey said,“Get that filled out early. Go see the filmladies today.”

I thought he was getting on my case aboutslacking off so much. But really, how couldthe guy who sat in the office all day, gossip-ing with clerks and telling everyone to slowdown, really be cracking on me for workingtoo slow?

It didn’t make sense until a little justbefore lunch, when Harvey caught up withme as I was hiding my pallets. He said, “Youseen the film ladies yet?”

“Nah,” I said.“Go see ‘em. They got a new girl working

there,” Harvey said. He gave me a bigtoothy smile and a little elbow nudge andsaid, “Boy, if I was your age, I’d have thatgirl out in them portables. You wouldn’t seenothing through that window but my assbouncing up, if you know what I’m saying.”

How could I not know?

The new girl’s name was Tammy. Ofcourse. We met in the lunch room. She knewshe was being set up and I knew I was beingset up, so it was awkward at first. We dancedaround a few subjects and I told a few badjokes and she laughed anyway. She hadbrown hair pinned back in barrettes and thatlittle bit of extra weight that I like on girls.She was wearing her dad’s blue work shirtbecause she said she didn’t want to ruin hergood clothes at the warehouse. Part of it allseemed artificial, but damn if she wasn’t mykind of girl.

My heart still had a bit of a hangover fromChristina, but one sweet look from Tammyand that all started to fade away. I decidedright then that, if she asked me to sneak offinto the film stacks and watch a driver’s edmovie with her, I’d do it. Hell, I thought,maybe I’ll ask her myself.

–Sean Carswell

TThe Dinghole ReportsBy the Rhythm Chicken(commentary by FrancisFunyuns)[edited by Dr. Sicnarf]

(Good morning, folks. FrancisFunyuns here. I wholly regret toinform you that my identity accusa-tion from last issue’s column wasquite false. I was quite positive thatour own Todd Taylor was theRhythm Chicken. It all made somuch sense. I mean who WOULD-N’T want to be from Wisconsin?Not to mention all those unfortu-nate Californians! – F.F.)

[Excuse me, Francis. Maybe Ishould interrupt before you get usfired. We’ve found a few bits ofevidence that lend us to believethat Todd is indeed NOT theRhythm Chicken. After rereadingprevious Dinghole Reports con-cerning the Chicken’s visit toSouthern California, we noticedthat the photos of his travelingcircus of chaos were taken bynone other than Todd himself.Once again, this leaves us withthe great question, “Who is theRhythm Chicken?” – Dr. S.]

(I know what you’re thinking.The Doctor and I, being his twoclosest companions in his cru-sade, should know who the ClarkKent is beneath that furrywrestling mask. Well, truth beknown, the few times we’ve seenhim without that big furball on his head we’vebeen too drunk to truly recognize his nakedimage. So far, we are sure of three things: he isnot Todd Taylor, he is not the good Dr. Sicnarf,and he is not me. – F.F.)

[We’ve heard all the accusations, and some ofthem carry some weight. Being Polish andfrom Green Bay, the Rev. Nørb could very wellbe the Rhythm Chicken. But would Todd givetwo entire blocks of column space to the sameWisconsinite? Nardwuar? Ben Weasel? BrettFavre? Dan Panic? Paddy? Grant Hart? We’veruled all these folks out, simply by their supe-rior drumming abilities. – Dr. S.]

(Yes, they were all understandable accusations.But, only those who’ve heard the Chicken’stimeless slop-rock would know how truly BADa drummer he is. Unless you’ve been luckyenough to cross paths with one of his tours deruckus, you really don’t know how bad he is.Lucky for the Chicken, those damn ears usual-ly keep everyone’s attention off of his ailingrudimentary skills. I mean, how would some-one from Wells, Nevada or Monticello,Minnesota know that his percussive skills arequite nonexistent? I mean, unless you actuallywitness his Ruckusness, how are you to knowhe can barely drum at all? – F.F.)

—Suddenly, the door creeks open and a verytired looking Rhythm Chicken crawls in.—

So, you slick-slacks have startedmy column without me AGAIN!If I weren’t so damn busy I’d giveBOTH of your dingholes the ol’wire brush treatment! I have onlythree weeks left of being a Blatz-swilling American before I fly offto Poland again, and my dutiesbefore I leave are having meburning the midnight oil on anightly basis. Now, in the interestof wasting no time, let me seewhere you two dildoheads leftoff… ah, yes. If one is unfortu-nate enough to have not seen mydivine drumming, how could onepossibly know of my percussivegrace? Well, I guess this naturallybrings us to today’s story! Gather‘round, kids! My time’s shortthese days.

[Francis, you better keep yourmouth shut this time! – Dr. S.]

Well, today’s story began in themiddle of last issue’s DingholeReport. Somewhere inD.H.R.#66, I found myself quiteexhausted and thrashed up afterjust belly flopping onto my drumsin the men’s room at the Onopabrewpub. While attempting togather and move aside the rem-nants of my chickenkit, I wasapproached by one Mr. JohnGehring. John owns and runsHaunted House Recordings, abasement studio hidden in thebowels of Milwaukee’s southside.

He would lean over and say, “I think theRhythm Chicken really should record a recordwith me.” All I could do was laugh it off. Whatan absurd thought. I briefly pictured me settingup my thrift store drum kit in his professionalstudio with microphones meticulously placedhere and there to catch the “true” sound of theRhythm Chicken. Out of breath, I could onlytell him, “No, I don’t think so. That wouldn’tmake much sense.” I packed my kit away andretired to the bar. The rest of the night I putmore thought into his offer while putting moreBlatz into my belly. It did seem quite pointless,a record of just drumming. How would anyoneknow of the chaos? Then again, I had to remindmyself that pointlessness is one of the founding

It was juststupid enoughto be a prettygood idea!

TTHHEEEE DDIIIINNGGHHOOOOLLLLEEEE RREEEEPPPPOOOORRTTSSRHYTHM CHICKEN

The Ch icken , i n f l ight . . .

The Suck my Beak Tour 2005

cornerstones of Wisconsinism. If I could some-how capture that chaos, then I would considersuch a venture. At some point near bartime Ifound myself sitting next to John at the CactusClub. We were holding the Great Summit. Oneof these happens at the C-Club almost nightly.After bouncing a few ideas back and forth, a lit-tle compromising here, a little stubborn insis-tence there, a lot of chilled Blatz here ANDthere, and we had formulated a functioningcharter. That night we hatched the idea whichwill surely take punk rock into the next phase!

{You’re like the Elvis of punk rock! – LordKveldulfr}

Get him outta here! I really don’t have time forany hoppin’ hooshwash today! SOOOOOOO,that night we hammered out the plan. Weagreed that a Rhythm Chicken recording sure-ly could NOT be done conventionally in a stu-dio environment. It had to be done on his ownturf, the tavern! The Rhythm Chicken couldnot conceivably release an entire album of hisworks, though the pointlessness of it did soundappealing. The true fire and ruckus of aChicken recording could only be captured at alive show in his natural habitat. The focus of therecording could not be on the drumming itself,but on the sounds of the entire room. The drumswould be just another room sound in the mix,blended in with the bar glasses clanking, thecurses of the old man at the end of the bar, andthe drunken hoots and hollers of the patrons. Itwould be a symphonic composition evenChopin would appreciate! So we decided itwould be a live recording in the tavern settingwith just two room mics placed at the back ofthe room. It would be released as a 45. This gaveus a chance to choose two different venues to begrooved into wax. Instead of choosing differentsongs for each side, we were choosing differentvenues, two different “studios.” The decisionreally was not too difficult. The RhythmChicken live 45 would be as follows:Side A: The Rhythm Chicken live at NationalLiquor BarSide B: The Rhythm Chicken live at Koz’sMini-Bowl

The next morning I was at work thinking aboutthe previous night’s brainstorm. The more Ithought about it, the more I thought it was juststupid enough to be a pretty good idea! Top ofthe Pops, indeed!

—The phone rings.—

[Hello, residence of the Rhythm Chicken…Who is this?… Sire Records? – Dr. S.]

—The Chicken violently grabs the phone andslams it back down.—

Damn them! Can’t a Chicken get a columndone without all these interruptions?!! Now,where was I? Oh yes, the live 45. So, the vinyl45 was the obvious choice, with the large ding-hole. I began preparations. I put together aflyer advertising the event. It was on aSaturday afternoon, when the National LiquorBar was at its eclectic peak. The flyer read,“2:00 PM Cheap Beer Social, 4:00 PMRUCKUS! Bring your liver! Bring your

mouth!” How could I make it any more clear?This was going to be a recording capturing theauthentic sounds of a Wisconsin tavern! Fromlast issue’s descriptions of these venues, I’msure you would agree that they were fine choic-es for each side of this release. The arrange-ments were made. The plans were set. TheRhythm Chicken was actually going to recorda smash hit record! It was a long, anxious waittill that Saturday!

—The phone rings again.—

[Hello, residence of the Rhythm Chicken…Who?… Dave Geffen? – Dr.S.]

HANG THAT UP! If you two slick-slackscan’t even figure out who I am, how can themajor label fat cats find my phone number?That damn Chickenphone’s been ringing offthe hook!

Dinghole Report #67: The Recording of Ruckus!(Rhythm Chicken sightings #356 & #357)April 16, 2005 was just a day. The RytmKurcze fell out of bed, walked to the library,stopped at the Hi-Fi for some cluck-cluckjuice, and scratched his way back to his coop.Ruckus O’Reily and Andrzej showed up sothey cracked open some Zywiec. His beak wasglistening in Zywiec froth as they strolled intothe National Liquor Bar. It was shortly after2:00 and there were already Chicken fans sit-ting around the bar partaking in the cheap beersocial. I might just be flattering myself here,for they might have been there swilling cheapbeer at this time even if there wasn’t a sched-uled Rhythm Chicken concert. The drums weretossed into the corner as we were soaked up bythe crowd. More and more Chicken fansshowed up as their anticipation swelled. Thetwo scratchy-voiced old lady bartenders werecontinuously sliding bottles of Pabst over thebar. The bottles clanking, laughs and slurs ofthe patrons, and the creaking of barstoolssounded like the pre-show tuning of all thestringed instruments from the orchestra pit.Shortly before showtime, John Gehring andJohn Burger showed up with two armloads ofrecording equipment. They were quiteimpressed that the day’s equipment could fit inthe back seat of his Saturn and named the trav-eling recording company Haunted SaturnRecording. The bewildered regulars at theNational Liquor Bar inspected the stage setup.The barstools were pushed aside to make roomfor the crappy little drumset with the bass drumwarning “The Rhythm Chicken.” There was anodd sign duct-taped to the bar reading, “RytmKurcze jest krolewskie koszmar!” All the pol-ish-speaking attendees agreed. Within minutes,the recording equipment was assembled andthe concert hall quieted down as the orchestrafinished their tuning and quieted their instru-ments. The Rhythm Chicken then emergedfrom the men’s room and majestically walkedto his kit in the spotlight. The crowd clappedpolitely yet powerfully as the conductorapproached his riser at center stage. After ashort period of applause, he grabbed his batonand raised it skyward. The audience shushedand the room grew quiet. The Rhythm Chickenstood holding up his sign that read,

“SILENCE.” The eerie moment of silence wasalmost too much for the drunken concert goersto take, so our hero then held up the secondsign which had one beautiful word scrawledupon it: “RUCKUS!” The screams were deaf-ening and the patrons began ripping out theirtheater seats! The holy opera of ruckus beganwith the opening drumroll. The cement floorand tin ceiling of the National Liquor Barechoed the glorious thunder. Halfway throughthe opening drumroll, our hero dropped adrumstick and the crowd snickered. This wasno rehearsal! The tapes were rolling! Punkrock! Grabbing a spare stick, he continuedundaunted! What followed was a beautifulassortment of drunk-ass chicken rhythms inter-spersed with the beer-splashed cheers andheckles of the audience. Performer and audi-ence members fed off each other’s energy andlunacy as Haunted Saturn Recording capturedevery second of this great symphony. Thecheers grew in volume and intensity while thetapes kept rolling. The Rhythm Chicken wasgetting caught up in the usual rituals of hisshow and toying with the audience, when hesuddenly remembered the time limitations ofone side of a 45. ABANDON SHIP! ABORTMISSION! Before he could even utilize hismighty ruckus logs, our hero desperatelygrabbed his drumset and tossed it about beforedoing some type of nongymnastical leap ontohis pile of drum nestings. The concert hallerupted with great applause! Drunks wereyelling, “Hurray!” One stray voice even bel-lowed out the word, “FUN!” Somewhere in theheavens, the half-bearded Chopin looked downand nodded with approval. Soon, our herocrawled his way backstage (the men’s room) tothe ongoing cheers of the audience. Johnpressed the stop button and side A was fin-ished. No overdubs, no second takes, nohooshwash! This recording was the real deal!

—The phone rings again.—

[Hello, residence of the Rhythm Chicken…Herb Alpert?… from A&M Records? – Dr. S.]

—The Rhythm Chicken violently grabs thereceiver and thrusts it up his dinghole!—

Now, where was I? Oh, yes. So side A wasdone. The drums were thrown into the RoosterRoller and like an efficient MASH unit,Haunted Saturn Recording was once again inJohn’s back seat. The convoy of Chicken fansbegan the migrating carpool to the location ofside B’s recording, Koz’s Mini-Bowl. Uponentering the corner tavern, the traveling circusnoticed that the place was all decked out withballoons and decorations. There were manychildren roaming in an out while grandparents,aunts, and uncles sat at the bar downing onedollar mugs of Pabst. It turns out that there wasa birthday party for three of the neighborhoodkids. I thought the only way to ensure a fullChicken gig recording was to get the okayfrom the owner. After being asked if therecould be a quick concert in the back room,Mrs. Koz replied, “Well, as long as you play‘Happy Birthday’!” I thought about it for a bit.The Chicken has never really played “HappyBirthday” before, but what the cluck! We gotthe green light. The chickenkit and Haunted

33

Saturn were loaded in. Before long, the entireChicken-friendly crowd from the NationalLiquor Bar arrived. John and John excitedlyproclaimed that they noticed a large pig beingroasted along the side of the building for theparty! There were a few more Chicken fansthat missed the side A gig, but managed tocatch this one. “Happy Birthday,” huh? Well, Ifound Christeater, the official birthday songringleader from the Cactus Club. I knew hewould get the ball rolling, and the plans wereset. The Chicken fans were steadily emptyingthe tavern of their Pabst supply. The tapper randry and they were now selling $1 cans. I shareda few libations with my public, enjoying thevarious oddities displayed about the bar room.My newest discovery at Koz’s was a stuffedbadger up behind the bar that wears a littleminiature cheesehead, and the cheeseheaditself has a little mouth and eyes! I swear, everytime you look closely around Koz’s there’ssomething new, but it’s all been there for thelast thirty years! Yes, I was confident in mychoice of venue for side B. The badger wear-ing the smiley-faced cheesehead clinched it!Wisconsin, what a country! Soon, our heroemerged from the men’s room to the gatheringapplause. I sat at my throne and held up theSILENCE sign. Just then, the jukebox kickedin and the room filled with the soothing voiceof Willie Nelson singing, “When I was seven-teen… it was a very good year.” It was too per-fect. It couldn’t have worked out that well hadI planned it! Most of the ruckus militia thoughtit was orchestrated that way, so I played along.This is when I held up the RUCKUS sign andthe place just erupted with drunken cheers. Theopening drumroll commenced and wavereduntil I held both wings up to more applause.Then Christreater triggered the crowd with,“HaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappyBirthday to you….,” and the whole placebegan singing the well known tune. I was play-ing some sort of heavy metal backbeat to thetraditional favorite, thinking about how mostof the folks singing had no idea WHOSE birth-day it was. Well the third verse came aroundand, as I anticipated, the drunken crowd sang

valiantly, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEARHMMMMM-HMMMMM!” Listening back tothe tapes now I can even hear a couple peoplesinging, “Happy Birthday dear PEOPLE!”This was an unexpected addition to my regularchicken show, but welcomed nonetheless! Thesong ended and my heavy metal beat gave wayto my usual all-out chaos! More so than before,the room of drunk chicken fans cheered along!I toyed with them and played them like a grandpiano. I raised them up. I raised them down.They were in the palm of my wing. Then Iremembered what was absent at the recordingof side A and flung my little drum sticks aside.Reaching back behind my kit I found my terri-ble twigs, the RUCKUS LOGS! Raising themskyward, I rumbled the bass drum and dis-played my weapons to the gasps andWHOOOOOAH’s of the well-Pabsted clan. Iwas able to throw a few monster rock beats atthe crowd before I once again remembered mytime restraints. This time I chose to execute agraceful belly flop onto my chickenkit, tum-bling forward and landing on the edge of thefirst mini-bowling lane. The applause wasmore thunderous than ever. Men bellowed.Ladies shrieked. The Dalmatian howled. Did Imention the Dalmatian? I don’t think LandSpeed Record had a Dalmatian in the audience!Their cheers slowly died down and someoneyelled out, “One more set!” I grabbed the littlemini-ball rack next to the lane and raisedmyself up to more cheers. Christreater would-n’t let the show end and started everyone upagain with another “Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappy Birthday to you…” The entire roomwas even drunker and sang along with heartfeltpassion. No longer seated at my drums, I justdid a little tail-wagging dance with a littlechicken-booty shake-n-bake. “Happy Birthdaydear HMMMMM-HMMMMM!” The crowdcheered one last time, this time for their ownsinging and I crawled backstage. John pressedthe stop button and the day’s recording wascomplete. I had done it. The Rhythm Chickenhad completed his first ever real recording withintent to duplicate! I thought about it all again.Yup, it still seemed quite absurd. I loved it all

the more. While loading my drums out theybrought in the pig to the head table and startedcutting slabs-o-meat for the friends and family.The guy doing the butchering held out a largeslab of the other white meat to me and said,“Payment for a fine show!” I was more thandelighted to grab and inhale the other whitemeat, knowing it was not me.

—Phone rings again, this time from inside theChicken’s dinghole!—

I’ll get this one… Hello, residence of theRhythm Chicken… oh really? Warner Brotherswants to release my live 45?… Yeah?…Cocaine and champagne, you say?… Signingbonus?… Uh huh… HOOSHWASH! BUCK-AW! You keep your money. I’ll keep myrecording! GOOD-BYE!

—The Chicken rips the phone off the wall andthrows it out the window!—

(Wow, Chicken! You really are keeping your45 on a DIY level, aren’t you? – F.F.)

The release will have no record label’s name atall. It will be as if it just appeared from nowhere.A divine gift of ruckus, born of no label, directfrom my dinghole! And just to make it an all-outmedia blitz of ruckus, I’m including a bonusDVD inside every copy of the 45, video docu-mentation of both recording sessions and slideshow! This is truly groundbreaking!

[I’ve certainly never heard of a 45 with a bonusDVD included. Once again, you are pioneeringinto new areas, Mr. Chicken. Can I pre-ordermine? – Dr. S.]

(Yeah, and aren’t you leaving to go back toPoland in like three weeks? You certainly keepbusy, Chicken. You know what? I think I’vegot it! You’re from Green Bay… You now livein Milwaukee… I’ve got it. THE RHYTHMCHICKEN IS ANDY JUNK!!! – F.F.)

Need I remind you who took the photos for myDinghole Report #18?

[Dang! Well, let me think here… You’re fromGreen Bay… You live in Milwaukee… Youdrink Blatz… YOU’RE LORD KVELDUL-FR!!! – Dr. S.]

This is all getting quite amusing. If I actuallydid reveal my identity to you two, it would bequite anti-climatic and then I would have tokill you both. Well, you know, the Deepthroatguy from the Watergate scandal just revealedhimself yesterday. Maybe I’ll follow his exam-ple and wait till I’m ninety, but for now I’mjust gonna move back to Poland and keep youguessing. Before finishing up I would like toask all the Razorcake readers if anyone knowshow the Green Bay polka mass started?

Jestescie guwniaza!

–Rhythm Chickenrhythmchicken@hotmial.com

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Ch icken s n e v er f l y for v er y l o ng . . . a i r get s st uck i n the i r d i ngho l e s .

Ever wonder why some debut records simply blowother band's fourth or fifth release out of thewater? Sometimes it's the band members pastexperience-which all four members of this bandhave. Bill Nesper did time with Discount. Everyoneelse played in Jury Rig in the mid-1990s. WhenJury Rig spontaneously combusted, it took until2001 before Amanda MacKaye, Ryan Nelson, andTodd McDonald decided to regroup and makemusic again.

Their self-titled record, released in the fall of2004, was worth the wait. Intertwining vocalsfrom Ryan and Amanda seamlessly flow with thescientific precision of Bill on drums and Todd onbass. Ryan's guitar adds a fevered grittiness tothe proceedings. In other words, you want to goout and get their new record now before you haveto listen to some other retread garbage on theradio. This disc is miles away from anything like

that. With songs like "Messy Room" and "PussyPants," how can it not?The band was gracious enough to sit down withme in between band slots, where they had justfinished a killer set supporting Visqueen andShonen Knife. You can easily procure their recordoff Dischord Records' site, where it is a jointrelease with Sammich Records, the label Amandaalso runs. Or pick it up at their next gig-after therock of The Routineers has pummeled yourhead like a cheap billyclub.

Interview by Sean KoepenickPhotos by Ted TuelOriginal artwork byAmy Adoyzie

Sean: How and when did each of you get involved withmusic? Ryan: I started playing music when I was really young. Mybrother and I would play classic rock tunes. We just listened tomy Dad’s record collection a lot. We’d end up trying to playthose songs. Amanda: I was about eight or nine. My brothers had bands soI had to have one, too. I had a band with my neighbor who wasa year younger than me. I was nine, he was eight, and we start-

ed a band with his twenty-seven-year-old cousin. We had one instru-ment—the acoustic guitar, and everything else was cardboard boxesand kitchen utensils. Then my friend (the eight year old) tried to teachhimself how to play harmonica. Ryan: Because the band needed a harmonica! Amanda: Well, yes. But we had all the kind of regular band prob-lems—we had some management issues. We practiced for awhile andthen it started to fall off so we ended up breaking up. Then we addedsome other instruments—some keyboards and strings. It wasn’t reallyworking out, though. Ryan: Some tennis rackets Amanda: Did you see us? We ended up playing two shows. Ryan: Amanda had a white suit jacket on... Amanda: And a white Blues Brothers shirt underneath. We had rolesand I was the “cool” one. My friend Oliver was “the hobo.” Ryan: Who is “the hobo” in The Routineers? Amanda: You’re looking at ‘em—right here [points at herself]. Bill: My Dad played piano, so when I was really young. He tried to

““WWEE PPLLAAYYEEDD IINN AA

BBUURRRRIITTOO SSTTOORREE IINN

NNEEWW BBRRUUNNSSWWIICCKK..”

38

39

make me play piano and I really didn’t take to it. They convinced me tobe in chorus too. But I actually really enjoyed it. So I sang in school, butthen I realized it was kind of geeky and that I would rather surf. I startedplaying drums when I was like sixteen or seventeen. I lived in a smalltown. There were two bands in town, and in my circle of friends therewasn’t a drummer. So I got my set of “Jugs” drums. These were reallylow budget—more than the CB-700 set. They were like a Pearl knock-off. Todd: I had gone to shows and it seemed like anyone could do it, so myfriends and I decided we would start a band. Both of us were like, “Okay,whoever gets the bass will be the bassist and the other guy will be thesinger,” but my friend got the bass and then I ended up being the singer.I kept going to shows but I didn’t come to play bass until I was like twen-ty-two or twenty-three. Amanda: You’re twenty-four now? Todd: Yes, I’m twenty-four now. You can tell by the way I play bass. Idecided I would teach myself an instrument. Sean: What bands or artists did you listen to during that same time peri-

od? Ryan: When I first started playing music, we pretty much listened to any-thing we could get our hands on. We raided my father’s record collection.I remember finding a Grandmaster Flash tape in fifth grade. I couldn’t getenough of Grandmaster Flash and UTFO. At the same time I was listen-ing to the Beatles, Led Zeppelin, and the Beach Boys, so it sort of ran allover the place. We were listening to a lot of contemporary stuff. Back

then it wasn’t like punk stuff but, like, Judas Priest You’ve Got AnotherThing Comin’. Amanda: A lot of the same stuff. None of the classic rock stuff, but likethe Beatles and the Who and stuff. My brothers were into punk rock, soI started to like Stiff Little Fingers, Sex Pistols, and then their bands. Ryan: Your brothers listened to a lot of British punk rock. Amanda: Yeah, this was from ’77 to 1980 when I was getting heavilyinfluenced by them. Then they started playing in bands. First record Iever bought though was Kiss Alive. Somehow I thought it made sense.They seemed real punk in a way—real tough. It was mostly… Ryan: Paul Stanley’s sex appeal [laughs].Amanda: Yeah, right. But all the early punk stuff, and my brothers wereinto Ted Nugent and Santana. Bill: My dad played a lot of piano stuff. I know this sounds really funnybut my Dad used to play ragtime and boogie-woogie and things like that.So I was into that when I was really, really young. Then I got into Kiss.I liked the whole act. I just don’t get it now. What was I thinking? Amanda: “Calling Dr. Love?” C’mon, man! Bill: Prince was the first 7” record I bought. When Doves Cry. DuranDuran, The Reflex. Ryan: You have a Reflex tattoo right? Bill: Yeah, sure, it’s on my lower back! I’ll show you later.

““LLEET’’S NOT

GGEET TOO

PREECCIOUUS

AABOUUT

THIS SHIT!””

Ryan: The first two Duran Duran records I liked, but I couldn’t say it outloud. Todd: There’s different punk music I listened to before I started playingmusic. My whole musical experience was based around punk rock. WhenI was younger I liked The Beatles, The Beach Boys, and all that stuff. Myfirst record was Convoy. I was the youngest of five so I grew up on clas-sic rock from my other brothers. But as far as playing music, I wanted tobe in a band that sounded like Reagan Youth. That was the biggest thingwhen I was growing up. I like New York hardcore and the old MRRcomps. Anything obscure and fast I liked. We were in the Midwest. Wedidn’t have much of our own dynamic so we kind of picked from wher-ever. I mean, people liked The Replacements but nobody really consid-ered them our own. We liked the West Coast stuff because it was reallyfast and aggressive. I liked East Coast stuff, too, but it was kind of allover the place. Sean: Who played at the first concert you ever attended? Ryan: I love that question. Didn’t I ask that of the audience when weplayed at Josie’s? Amanda: First concert or first show? Sean: First live band you remember. Amanda: The Slinkees. And then The Teen Idles. Ryan: Mine is terrible. Van Halen with Sammy Hagar. That was my firstconcert. My Mom took my brother and I. But, technically, they weren’tthe first band since Bachman Turner Overdrive opened for them. Amanda: The first “stadium rock” show I went to was Aerosmith on thePermanent Vacation tour. For my twentieth birthday present, my brotherwas like, “You’ve never been to a stadium rock show?” So I went to seeAerosmith with The Black Crowes and somebody else. It was a dreadfulnight. Todd: My first punk show—I’ll try and get points—was Toxic Reasons.The first concert was a band nobody’s ever heard of called Clover. A ‘70shippie band. Ryan: Man, did he ever want to be a singer with that band. Todd: I just thought, “Man, if I could just play keyboards with them...” Bill: I can’t remember. It may have been at the county fair with the IsleyBrothers or something like that. Or it was more low-budget, like one ofthe Isley Brothers doing like a side project. Amanda: The Isley Cousins? Bill: Yeah, the Isley Cousins or something like that. I honestly don’tremember. Blood Sweat and Isley! Earth Wind and Tears! Where I lived

there wasn’t anywhere to go see shows. It wasn’t until I was like eight-een or so that we started setting up our own shows in this little school-house in Florida. We rented it out for twenty-five bucks per show. Webought a PA. Ryan: Twenty-five bucks? You can’t beat that! Bill: Fort Pierce, Florida. Sean: How did the Routineers first get together? Amanda: Todd, Ryan, and I all played in a band together called Jury Rig,and at some point three years ago, I begged Ryan to be in a band with me,or at least to record some songs. Many, many years ago Ryan and I hadsome “spoof” PJ Harvey songs that we played in my apartment. Heplayed acoustic guitar and I sang. We decided we should record them. Wethought it would be really funny. Ryan: It was funny. Amanda: We still haven’t done it yet. But somehow that worked intostarting a band. I ran into Todd and thought, “Hey, we should play musicbecause Bill’s moving up here and drummers are scarce.” So we kept iton the down-low. “There’s a new drummer in town.” Literally, the bandstarted when I mailed Ryan some lyrics while I was out of town and hewrote a song. Then I came back and went over to his house and we playedthat song together. Ryan: I think I had four songs. I had always played drums in other bands,but I had four songs on guitar that I didn’t know what to do with. So whenAmanda said, “Let’s play some music,” I was all ready to go. When shesent me some lyrics, I already had a riff and I tried to work a melodyinto it.Amanda: It’s the one we don’t play, “Song One.” Bill: It’s gone. Ryan: Yeah, it sucks to be us. It’s amazing because Todd, Amanda, andI were in Jury Rig, and I played drums in that band. Jury Rig’s break-upwas fucking hardcore. My recollection is sitting on a porch and lookingevery band member in the eyes and saying, “I don’t want to play with anyof you fuckers anymore!” Todd: I think that was the last time I spoke to Amanda until many yearslater. Ryan: Our break-up was terrible. Amanda: This is an earth-shattering moment because we were able tocome back together after such a violent breakup. Ryan: It was pretty crazy. But Todd and I became friends; we buried thehatchet. And Amanda and I, over the years, worked stuff out. We wouldmeet for coffee and talk and stuff. We were just friends again.

40

Amanda: It’s like Metallica. We all have to have the services of greatgroup therapists. Ryan: We lay down on my porch and he asks us how we feel. I wasthinking about this tonight. I’ve always played drums in bands. I loveplaying with Bill. In practice I smile constantly. It’s so exciting to playwith a drummer. I love what Bill comes up with. But it’s crazy for me tohear the music on one side of my head. I’m so used to the music beingall around me. It still fucks with me. It’s a weird dynamic. It’s a little biteasier in a practice space. Todd: You should play with headphones. Sean: Describe one of your most memorable gigs so far. Bill: Definitely the burrito show. Ryan: We played in a burrito store in New Brunswick. It wasn’t a chain. Bill: It was an original burrito place. It was all florescent lighting. Theydidn’t shut down, either. Amanda: People were like coming in, picking out their carry-out, andthen going. They would stand there with their bag. Todd: I think the only other band that had played there was like a lo-fi,two or three piece band. Ryan: They were like, “You are the loudest band that’s ever playedhere.” I was like, “That’s great!” Bill: It was so much fun. The cook spoke no English whatsoever. Ryan: He wanted a CD. Bill: He had no reason to get one, he just wanted one. Ryan: Yeah, it was awesome. But we also got added last minute to a billin Albany. I’m really thankful that they let us play. But the penalty forbeing added at the last minute is you play last. It was before a lot ofbands. I think it was a six-band bill? Bill: Oh yeah, at least. Ryan: It was a six-band bill including us. We played last. There werefour people there. Bill: There was a woman there at the show who was closer to our agewho came to see the show. And she was picking up her son who playedin the first band. I thought it was awesome because I thought it lookedlike exactly what I was doing at age seventeen. Ryan: There were a lot of kids there—except when we played. Bill: They had to go to bed. Todd: I remember the house in Columbia Heights. My right elbow washitting someone in the crowd. The end of my bass was under Bill’s cym-bal. You can feel people sweating on you. We were on top of each other. Ryan: Kids started doing a soul clap. Amanda: I had this opportunity during one of the songs that Ryan singsmost of. I just turned around and stood in the front with everybody else.I watched the band and sang from there. It was such an interesting oppor-tunity to watch my own band—while I was doing it. I encourage peopleto do that if you have the chance. Sean: How does the songwriting process work for the band? Ryan: Most of the time, Todd and I come to practice with riffs. We’llstring them together or have something all together. Amanda and I havegotten together and worked on lyrics and vocal melodies. We haven’tdone it in awhile now. Lately we have just been making tapes of thesongs. Amanda will think of something, or when I write a riff, we’ll justget a vocal melody right away, and we’ll just apply that to the song. AndAmanda and I will get together and work on what she does in the songversus what I do in the song. It’s kind of crazy, though. It’s still new tome to do vocals, so when I do vocals I usually don’t think about vocalsfor two. Sean: Are there any current musicians that you would like to write a songwith? Ryan: We talked the other night about having my brother, so in the backof my mind I would love to play guitar with my brother if the Routineersever did like a special “one-off” show with a special guest guitarist. Mybrother is Mark Nelson and I’m a huge fan. I love what he comes up withon guitar and I’m a huge fan of his lyrics. Sean: How did the recording process work for your debut versus yourprevious bands?

Ryan: We do a lot of home recording. I have a Tascam eight-track quar-ter-inch reel to reel. Most of the recording on the record was done on theTascam. I recorded my vocals, then Amanda’s brother Ian (MacKaye)came over and recorded Amanda’s vocals. The mix was done by me,Amanda, Ian and Don (Zientara) at Inner Ear. We brought my wholemachine to Inner Ear, then we mixed it at the studio there. Then we alsodo tons of four-track demos. We just throw mics up and do four-trackdemos, which I think sometimes sounds better than the other stuff. Todd: We try to re-create it but it’s a struggle. Amanda: I don’t know about Bill’s experience but I know these two havedone this together before. I have only recorded in a studio before. This isinteresting. Playing with the tape on and suddenly you have recorded asong. It’s nice, like taking the veil off of making a record. It’s kind ofintimidating to go to a studio because it’s a studio. It seems like such adeal. Ryan: You are always thinking about time and money. We’re here andyou have to perform.

Amanda: When you are in your own space,it’s a surprise; you’ve just recorded a song. Ryan: With Routineers stuff we want a dirti-

er sound. Todd and I are constantly talkingabout bands with like narly, gritty guitar

sounds. Vocals like puking and crack-ing and all that shit, like the garage-

est sound, which we didn’t do onthe record. But it was part of the

appeal. When we wererecording it we kept saying,

“Let’s not get too pre-cious about this shit!”

Then I would turn around and getreal precious on it. Amanda: The first band that Irecorded with, we did it in base-ment studios. GNS studios were inthe basement over in Arlington.Both Jeff Turner and Barrett’sbasements had been reconstructedto studios. I mean, I’m looking atthe furnace. There are no walls around thesoundboard. Ryan: You can definitely hear the furnacethrough the song!Amanda: It was good. When we recorded, itwas the winter and we had to turn the heat off inthe house so it wouldn’t keep clicking on andoff. Sean: Are there any current bands out there thatyou would like to share a double bill with? Amanda: There are too many. It’s so hard, espe-cially for me being totally biased and in lovewith DC. There’s not enough time or venues todo it. We played with Navies and Like Languagein Philadelphia. I had wanted to play with themfor so long because I had seen them and they’reamazing. I want to play with Horses, theThreads... Ryan: I want to play with The Kills. I’ve neveractually listened to them but Bill used to be in aband (Discount) with the singer, right? Bill: Yeah.Ryan: I just thought it would be cool to play

have Bill play. I don’t know if you guys actually talk or getalong or what? Bill: Actually, I asked her to put us on the show but shenever called me back. Ryan: That sucks. Bill: Whah, whah, whah, whah. Ryan: I don’t know if they have control over supportbands. Bill: She actually could care less but… it’s hard. Ryan: I thought it would be cool, I don’t know. Like someweird reunion for Bill. In DC, we play with our friends allthe fucking time. Todd: If you really want to play Omaha, I know somebands. Ryan: Yeah, like Todd’s town is Omaha. Amanda and I arespoiled being from here… I’d love to play with Hot Snakes,though. That’s just ‘cause I know the bassist. Amanda: I would love to. But in actuality, I just think itwould be too intimidating. They’re great. Ryan: I love that band. I think Rick’s lyrics are fuckingamazing. They have this great energy. And Prince, too. ARoutineers/Prince show would be amazing. Sean: What current artists do you enjoy listening to? Amanda: I just saw a local hip-hop band—Head-Roc. Areally cool guy. Great DJ stuff. He is so dope, just reallygrassroots, down to earth. His music is so good. Ryan: I’m been listening to M. Ward. I can’t stop listeningto one of his records. It’s on constant rotation. That andMark Lanegan. I’m also on a small Julianna Hatfield kick. Amanda: I spend a lot of time in the past, just for listening.Because I work here at The Black Cat I see a show practi-cally every night. Honestly, I’ll listen to a Trio record, overand over again. All day long, same record. Then I will goand listen to something brand new from DC. I need to beable to clear it all out and then see what’s happening. Afriend of mine sent me a CD of band called ThuderbirdsAre Power. Man, they are so good. Perhaps one of myfavorite things about them is there’s a girl singing. I per-sonally have noticed that there’s a weird aggression goingon. There are not as many girls anymore. I don’t see it hap-pening as much. I don’t see enough girls at shows, let alonegetting up on stage. Ryan: We have two girls in Beauty Pill. Your brother isalways correcting me. “Don’t say ‘girls!’” Amanda: I say “girls.” Ryan: I know. Now he’s planted this thing in my fucking head! Amanda: How about chicks, broads, babes, ladies? Ryan: Basla, Beauty Pill’s bassist, studied sociology. On tour she count-ed the women we played with. I swear there was a woman in every band.At least one woman in every band we played with on tour. I was actual-ly like, “Man, things are headed in a really cool direction.” I agree, it’sdefinitely in regression. I do want more women in music. Amanda: I have been steadily going to shows for half my life and this isthe most like the early ‘80s than it ever has been. I’ve been to showsrecently where I will stand behind the band and count individually howmany women are in the audience. There won’t be a girl for, like, four orfive people back. All dudes. It’s really weird. It’s uncomfortable for me.Too many young white boys. Ryan: A rodeo. Amanda: Yeah, too much of a rodeo. Sean: What’s the origin of the band’s name? Amanda: The actual word came from me sitting right here at the bar ofThe Black Cat. After everything was closed and it was just staff, we weretalking about people we know with severe drug problems. Somebodysaid, “Yeah, you know, they are like a total routineer (pronounced rou-tine-ers).” I had never heard someone use that word before. I thought it

was kind of a cool concept. Not in the drug problem way, but in themethodical practicing. So then I actually loved it more and I called Ryanand I was spelling it out for him over the phone and he was like “ohroute-in-neers?” I was like, “Route-in-neers, that’s so much better!” Sean: What are the future plans for The Routineers? Ryan: We don’t have any shows booked. We’ve been writing a lot of newstuff. I really, really want to finish our new batch of songs and record.That’s pretty much all I want to do. We’ve been playing the same set forawhile. Bill: I want to do the same thing, Ryan. Ryan: I think that’s what we’re going to do for the next couple months. Bill: We’ll go out of town for some shows. Todd: I think we’re on a pretty good tear at each practice. Every practicethere is something new popping up. Ryan: We’ve got four or five songs done. They’re just waiting for vocals.I never want vocals to be an afterthought. I’m so against that. But some-times that just happens. I feel like I can hear when vocals are an after-thought, so I like to keep working on it right away.

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This Bike Is A Pipebomb are good folk. There are plen-ty of people who love to make music, who love to travel,love to meet new folks, love to talk about their passions,and daydream about their fancies. There are plenty ofpeople who talk about all these things in a bar, around acampfire, on the couch, or in a café. They wait and theywait for the right time to make these ideas become a real-ity, and that time never seems to come. This Bike Is APipebomb is a rare group of folks who talk the talk andwalk the walk. They make things happen, and chancesare, if they verbalize the thought, they make the idea hap-pen quickly.

I know this firsthand. Along with the original drummerScott McDonald, I was an original member of This Bike IsA Pipebomb. Like the way most bands start, our smalltalk and our similar interests led us to play music in our

spare time. We got together a couple of times, had a goodtime and I figured it would be like most slacker bands Ihad played in—we will play some music, hopefully throwa set together, and maybe play a show or two aroundtown. Rymo and Terry had much higher goals.

That was about ten years ago and it does not appearto me that TBIAPB is slowing down any. In fact, it seemslike they are packing more and more steam over theyears. I was in the band for the first year. We did more inthat year than most bands do in ten years. I get tiredthinking about what this Bike Is A Pipebomb must havedone in ten years.

Like I said, Terry and Rymo make things happen.

interview by Scott Stanton : paintings by Causeypictures by Saucecherry

rymodee : guitar, harmonica, vocals terry : bass, vocalsted : drums, vocals

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Scott: When did This Bike Is A Pipebomb start?Rymo: Well, I don’t know exactly, I think itwas like in what? ‘94? It was me, Terry, andthese two guys named Scott .You being oneof the Scotts, and Scott Macdonald, thedrummer, being the other Scott. Terry had noidea how to play bass.Scott: I can’t remember exactly when theband started either, but yeah, Terry learned toplay the bass quick. Rymo: I was just playing folky countrychords behind your very Devo sounds and itgot pretty loud. It was a lot different than it isnow. We brainstormed and came up with aname and a two- week tour in two weeks flat.I’m really proud of that. We would playplaces and people would say, “Hey, how longhave you been together?” We’d say, “Oh, Idon’t know. Two or three weeks?” We getasked about our origin a lot for some reason. Scott: I remember oneof the very first thingswe did was pack our-selves and our equip-ment in a Gulf Powerutility truck that Terry’smama owned and wetraveled over to Mobile,Alabama. We played anopen mic night showthere. That was fun.Who’s in This Bike Is APipebomb now?Rymo: It’s me, TeddyTed, and Terry. We arefrom Pensacola Florida,but Ted has moved to theBay Area of California.Me and Terry have beenin the band for nineyears. Teddy has beenplaying drums for us foraround seven years.Before that, Terry and Iwere in This Bike Is APipe Bomb and it was alot different than it isnow. The old band brokeup and Terry and I decid-ed to do it differently,with more of a countryfeel. I guess me andTerry were really into old classic country atthe time. We wanted to do something com-pletely different, so we just started learningall my folk songs and we asked DaveDondero to drum for us. It was immediatelyobvious that we weren’t going to be as coun-try as we thought we were, but we reallyenjoyed it, so we kept it up.Ted: I used to not like the music too much,but when I finally figured out the lyrics andlearned how to play the drums better, I start-

ed to love it. It is amazing to play to peopleall over the U.S. and get to talk to them aboutissues that affect us all and learn how thingsare where they live.Terry: I want to say how much I love thesetwo guys after all these years of beingsqueezed into a little metal box, or cab—front seat solidarity; those were the days—and learning to tour for the long haul. I thinkwe’ve gone through everything together insuch close quarters that it amazes me.Scott: Country and folk music are a big influ-ence on TBIAPB. What artists were you into?Rymo: I was really into Johnny Cash, HankWilliams, Tom T. Hall, Loretta Lynn, aswell as a lot of blues. Not just Memphisblues, but some of the blues singers whosang more folk songs or crooned, like JoshWhite, Leadbelly, Jesse Fuller, Sonny Terry,and Brownie McGhee.

Scott: What accomplishments with TBIAPBare you all most proud of?Rymo: Just to see that people in states faraway know all the words and are really gladwe showed up to play their town. I really feltlike we made a mark.Terry: Highlights from the Pipe Bomb aredefinitely the Alaska tour, which was crazyand fun. Getting to play and tour with Spot(producer of early Bad Brains and BlackFlag, among other accomplishments) was

amazing. Every day we’d just look at him sit-ting there in our van and say, “Whooaa.That’s Spot!” He means a lot to us and to thehistory of This Bike Is A Pipe Bomb and Istill tell everyone that the first record is myvery favorite because Spot plays on it. Somany successes: three full length albums,solo records for Rymodee, great shows, evengreater meals cooked for each other andfriends we’ve made along the way, kidstelling us exciting “Pipebomb” stories, beingasked to play protests and actions all over thecountry that mean so much to us, art open-ings and art space openings and, unfortu-nately, art space closings like the 40th Streetwarehouse eviction party that we just playedin San Francisco, leaving shows laughing atthe fact that we were almost trampled, watch-ing the DIY community flourish and expand.The thing that I am most proud of is the fact

that through it all we have not changed theway we do things. I can honestly say that itall means and feels the same as it did in thebeginning—for all of us. We just played aback yard in Wyoming to six tall people andabout seven or eight little tiny people and itwas the funnest show of tour! We all still getso excited and it makes me love touring andplaying and so much more.Scott: What about accomplishments outsideof the band?

The bottom line is our friendship.

Terry: As just a regular mortal, my proudestaccomplishments have been making andkeeping this wonderful circle of friends. Didyou know that I can just pick up the phoneanytime I want and call Replay Dave (GrabassCharelstons)? I am proud of Sluggo’s (thevenue that Terry’s the proprietor of), ofcourse, and its evolution over fifteen yearschanging and mutating along with me. I’vemet and worked with so many inspiring andtalented folks in those years. I count myselflucky almost beyond belief. My crowningachievement is Grendel (Terry’s dog). He issuch a wonderful character—very handsomein his striped suit and if you’ve never met him,I encourage everyone to come to Florida andhang with him. Do make an appointmentthough... he keeps a very busy schedule.Scott: You guys tour a lot and many peopleprobably do not realize how much work goes

into driving around the country playing music.It’s hard work. It’s not like a KISS lyric: “rockand roll all night and party every day.”Rymo: In an ideal world, labor and creativityshould go hand in hand.Terry: We do tour a lot and have all made alot of effort to rearrange our lives—I thinkthey call that sacrifice to keep doing this. It isgreat fun and nothing is better than the feelingwhen we are playing live, all squeezed uptogether tight on the stage, just playing foreach other and our friends who come to theshows, laughing at each other’s mistakes andjust plain having fun. The bottom line is ourfriendship. I love these two guys. They are mybest friends and this is how we express ourfriendship. As an extension of that, we arefriends because we share a lot of feelings andbeliefs, have very similar lifestyles, and so wealso get to express our shared beliefs andhopes for our community, this country, andthe world even. We can also register ourshared complaints.Scott: Before the modern entertainmentindustry barged on us, music was mainlybased around faith, religion, and church. Folkmusic is quite important to y’all. Is religion? Rymo: I am not sure I believe in a higherpower. I don’t really like to talk about reli-gion. As much as I don’t like religion, I thinkit is still important for people to be able tobelieve in whatever they want.Scott: I am just asking since music has such astrong tradition in religion. Rymo: Religion is pretty important to me, butI’m not religious at all. I grew up a Southern

Baptist and actually dealt with that up to aboutage twenty-five or so. At times I really thinkthere is a higher power, but I have a hard timebelieving in God.Terry: I do have intense religious beliefs.However, they’re not traditional and very per-sonal and they involve the force of will, thehuman spirit and the power of punk rock.After all, it’s called “folk” music. It’s aboutpower in numbers and the force of will thatmakes a man beat a machine and the never-ending spirit of strong individuals who aregoing to live their lives on their terms no mat-ter what the cost. That is religion.Scott: Punk rock, in one sense, is just anothermarket of music created by a business thatneeded a label to sell a product. But it is obvi-ously something very real to you and manyother folks. What does punk rock means toyou?

Terry: When I say punk rock, I am not speak-ing strictly about music at all. It’s a generalterm I use when someone works so hard onsomething, anything—it could be art, it couldbe food, it could be a sewing project—for noreward at all except joy. I forgot about HotTopic and “punk rock” being played on theradio now. That’s outside of my realm. I am sopop culture illiterate that it’s almost embar-rassing. Maybe I’ll just make up my ownword, money be damned! In terms of a labelfor This Bike Is A Pipe Bomb, I think that weare lucky to get to play with great punk bands,but we’re also allowed to play on bills withacoustic acts or blue grass bands or whatever.The fact that we sort of straddle this fencemakes our travels very interesting because themusic that we get to enjoy every night on touris so diverse. But these are all punk to me. Weare part of that amazing community thatallows you to travel. You know that you willalways have a place to stay and someone willbe there to offer food or let you cook foodwith them. You will play shows in their livingroom and dance while they play and laugh andprobably sustain a head or knee injury at somepoint. Punk is a crappy old van held togetherwith a pickle jar lid that you have to hobble toin the morning and drive to another show!We’ll probably be doing this forever. Scott: Many folk songs were written and sungto lighten the load or to take one’s mind offthe hard work they had. What laboring or jobshave you all done over the years to financeyour tours or pay your bills?Terry: It would be hard to convince the tradi-

tionalist that what we do is work, but it suretakes up a lot of our time and we do occasion-ally get paid for it.Scott: Our society is warped on what work isor isn’t and that is messed up. Damn, over thelast nine years, you all have worked reallyhard, put more time, sweat, energy and pas-sion into this band than a person who now hashis own medical or law practice, and startedmed school the same time TBIAPB started.You all do work hard and it sounds like you allget great rewards for yourself. That’s great.Rymo: I guess Ted and Terry are the hardestworkers. I have actually tried my whole life towork as little as possible. I have been a life-guard, burger flipper, fireman, soccer coach,soundman, cook, dishwasher, professionalscreen printer, but as far as touring, I thinkthey usually go unfunded.Scott: It’s hard to find steady work when you

tour a lot.Rymo: I think if you don’t thoroughly loveyour job, you should quit! This is ideally,though. Some people have to feed severalmouths, you know, and not everyone is aslucky as I am. But, personally, I made a vowto not work at a job that I hated. Just think,eighty or probably ninety percent ofAmericans can’t stand their fucking job.There’s got to be something they’d rather do.A different job. Something they always want-ed to do or wanted to learn. Work is impor-tant, it really is, but right now there are justtoo many people out there who’d do anythingfor a paycheck, and I can’t be a part of thatforce right now.Terry: I’ve been working since I was ten. Ihad a pretty lucrative lawn cutting business bythe time I was twelve so I could buy schoolclothes and stuff. We were pretty poor. I feellucky every day that I was instilled with sucha strong work ethic because I believe a strongwork ethic plus healthy creative streak equalsI can do anything. We have toured for almostten years and lived like kings—well, our ideaof how a king would live—and Rymodee ispart of a vegan coffee shop café. I haveSluggo’s and Teddy is working with somefolks in San Francisco to open an all agesshow space there. We are superheroes.Scott: Terry, what changes have you seen inthe music industry since running a music clubin the mid-1990s to now? Terry: So many disappointments; watchingmusic turn into a giant business that trickspeople and destroys the true voice of inspira-

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That is what I have learned through the windshield of our tour van. Keep it simple and honest.

tion. We’ve watched so many of our friendsget swallowed up. Kids shouldn’t have to payten or fifteen dollars to see their favorite punkbands and CDs shouldn’t cost twenty dollars.Let’s face it, they only cost one dollar tomake. It’s utter robbery. We are not a part ofthat and never will be.Scott: Well, giant business is not a new thingin the music business, but I guess it is a newthing that has crept into the “undergroundworld” of music that we are involved in. CDcosts are insane with no doubt, but I thinkwhen all costs are factored in from recording,to packaging, to production, to touring aroundto sell the CD, it costs a little more than onedollar. Five dollars for a touring band is a veryfair price for everyone involved. Terry: It’s sad, but it has taught me muchabout the music business. Seeing things fromthis side for so long and knowing that it does-n’t have to be lavish. Keep it simple and hon-est. That is what I have learned through thewindshield of our tour van.Scott: In 1959 and 1960 Alan Lomax returnedto the South and recorded the traditions of ourcountry. He recorded blues, ballads, hymns,reels, shouts, chanteys, and work songs. Inthat tradition, suppose you had to gather fieldrecordings from the American South. In thespirit of Alan, where would you all go andwho would you record for this project?Rymo: Were you hoping I’d say he shouldrecord us or something? No, I don’t think he’dbe interested. There is some limited punk stuffthat is interesting in that vein, that isn’t just “fun”or “awesome,” but is unheard and would be con-sidered important in fifty years. I’d stay awayfrom all the punk jug bands, probably. I don’tknow. Should I record people doing amazingnew things, or doing renditions of folk songsthey downloaded on the internet? I don’t know ifit would really be appreciated on a true folk cir-cuit. It is not like it was before. Maybe I’d go tosome small towns in Mississippi, like the delta,and record freestyle hip hop artists. That wouldbe nice, to see the difference eighty to ninetyyears has made in the delta dance scene.Scott: Well, I was not really thinking about youall, but why the heck not? Y’all are just plainfolks playing songs for enjoyment and doingwhat you can to make it through the day. I thinkthat is what I like most about those field record-ings. The important thing is that it captured thefeelings of these folks and the day they lived in.We all have a story to tell and some tell itthrough music. Tracy (Scott’s wife) and Irecorded some “old timer” relative folks in theFlorida Panhandle area. We really wanted tocapture some of their music and their talkingbefore they die off. It was amazing! They justsat around at the end of the day, yelled out a keyto play the tune in, and they would let loose withmusic and words.

Rymo: Man, I think about that a lot. There’snobody sharing songs they heard or writinganything in that style anymore. You can’t goto prisons or small Mississippi towns with atape recorder and hit paydirt. I think a lot ofstuff is good on the streets, though, like somestreet performers and some one man bands. Ithink with the idea like Lomax, one wouldhave to wait another thirty years and findsome of the original hip hop guys from thelate ‘70s and early ‘80s and record them orsomething. There’s nothing much now. Scott: Yeah, I agree completely. I would loveto hear some of Grandmaster Flash’s (JosephSaddler) very first experiments with histurntables. Now that was truly groundbreak-ing and genius back in 1974! I wonder and Ibet people thought he was a fool back then. Terry: Alan Lomax would have a much big-ger job today than before in terms of findingthe roots music, protest music, and songs offreedom and oppression. He simply had totravel the Mississippi River delta to discoverall those beautiful songs and players then.Now he would have to buy a GreyhoundAmeripass and travel coast to coast to base-ments in Seattle and Portland and Kalamazoo,

and record stores in Denver and Gainesville,and collectives in St. Louis and Pittsburgh tofind the songs of protest now. As the under-current of dissent for corporatization and theself-appointed presidential puppet and warand murder for oil grows and gets morevocal, punks and anarchists and every otherform of radical are using music as a form oforganizing and constituting their communitiesso their voices can be heard. As the gapbetween rich and poor gets wider so does thedistance ol’ Alan would have to travel.Scott: Over the years, have you seen genderroles change in your scene? Rymo: Oh, definitely. At least at a firstglance, anyone looking in could see that moreand more women are involved and that is real-ly cool. But even deeper than that, women arein bands, in charge of distros, teaching class-es, and making this whole thing a communityinstead of a bunch of dudes in bands.Scott: Looking back over the years, I likedpunk music and the scene because it seemedlike it was open to anyone. There was some-thing smart about it. It was nice to hear impor-tant topics addressed in a song rather than thestuff on the radio. But I look back and there

was no shortage of sexist, homophobic, andracist music that was tolerated in the punkrock scene. I can’t believe some of the lyrics Iwould hear and I did not question it. I just fig-ured they must be cool people writing andsinging. I never thought, “Hey, these are red-necks in disguise wearing the punk rock uni-form.” I know things have gotten much better,but do you all see remainders or new breeds ofthese folks at your shows or in the scene?Rymo: Not nearly as much as I used to. Notjust in mainstream America, but even in thepunk scene in the South, nobody was evershocked or pissed off about homophobia orsexism. I think whenever you don’t under-stand something, a lot of people’s first reac-tion is to make fun of it, or even belittle it, andI think the punk scene has, for the most partanyway, jumped a lot of hurdles like that.There is always room for improvement, but Ithink we are definitely on the right path.Scott: You all worked with Tim Kerr on yourlast album (Three Way Tie for a Fifth). TheBig Boys are one of my all time favoritebands. How was it working with Tim Kerr? Rymo: It was great hanging out with TimKerr. We never had anyone want to “produce”our record, and we weren’t really sure what itmeant, but it was pretty cool. We butted headsa couple of times, and it got pretty stressful. Ican be pretty stubborn, especially when itcomes to my songs. He’s a really amazing guy,

and we’re all really happy with the record.Terry: Working with Tim Kerr was an honorand a pleasure. The man is about as sweet askey lime pie and helped us in the kindest but“No, I’m not kiddin’” kind of way. His houseis a punk rock museum and he is also a greatpainter. (He painted the cover of that record.)Hey Scott, remember when we first met TimKerr? It was so long ago. Scott: We met Tim way back? It’s all a fog tome. I remember seeing and meeting him whenhe was in a band called Bad Mutha Gooseback in my skateboarding days. He was tied inwith Zorlac skateboards. It is a small world.Tell us about your, and my, good ol’ home-town of Pensacola. Why is it unique?Rymo: I think we have about three songsfrom Pensacola. Ted Bundy was caught hereand there’s a lot of albino squirrels. It’s asmall town, and you know there’s not muchgoing on here, but the people are nice and Ilove it. But like most towns, it has anotherside that is not so friendly. A very good ol’ boy

side to it. The Pensacola highclass have no idea that they arebackwards rednecks.Scott: Earlier, when we weretalking about work, you all saidsomething about your restaurantsand cafes in Pensacola. Tell meabout that.Rymo: Actually, Terry and Ieach own separate vegan restau-rants. Hers is Sluggo’s which isalso one of the main venues intown, and ours is End of theLine, which is also a coffee shopand small venue. It’s really cool.When Terry first reopenedSluggo’s, we were like, “Oh no,we’re doomed! Two veganrestaurants in redneckPensacola?,” but it works reallywell. We all love each other’sfood and we’re all good friends.We each have our own regularcustomers and a lot of peoplelove both places. I get reallyexcited just thinking that both ofour places are doing well. It gets a little awk-ward at times, because our two places are kindof spread apart, and sometimes events orplanned meals will overlap, but it alwaysseems to work out and we are always excitedabout what the other restaurant is doing just as

much as our own. It’s really fucking sweet.Scott: Let us know something we don’t knowand would not expect from you all?Rymo: I served in the Air Force for two and ahalf years as a fireman.Scott: You were in the Air Force? What is itwith the armed forces and great countrysingers? I’m thinking about Johnny Cash,Kris Kristofferson, and Rymodee. Elvis worethe uniform as well. That is one extreme to theother for you; going from a point in life whereyou have to obey authority for honor andcountry, to a life of writing songs that fightauthority and question your country. Whatdoes your military experience play in yoursong writing?Rymo: Being in the military was probablyone of the worst things to ever happen to me.It was really bad times and I was getting intoa lot of trouble for my hair length and mychildish attitude. But some great things hap-pened to me too. I met some young kids in apunk band, and in Grand Forks, North Dakota

in 1990 there wasn’t much of that going on. Imade some great friends who I am still veryclose to, to this day. The best thing that everhappened to me ever was I went out and boughta guitar. The military has a lot to do with mysongwriting in that aspect alone. In a lot of mysongs I try not to seem as though I have theanswer, and sometimes I have had to come rightout and say, you know, I made a mistake, too.We have a song about our friend who joined thenavy and then the next thing you know he’s afighter pilot. Fuck. But, hey, I joined for the G.I.bill so I could go to college. All along, I knewthe military was stupid and I could have beensent to a damn war or something. Scott: Let’s talk about the unusual touringvehicles you all have had.Rymo: Our first vehicle was a van that brokedown in the middle of Florida and we did thedumbest thing we ever did. We traded it in ona new van. Scott: Lordy, I do remember that. That is oneof those stories that I remember and thinkback and see how determined you all are. If Ican, let me reflect. That was our first U.S. tourand it was going to be two months long.Anyhow, I remember our ol’ Ford Econolinevan named Midi that decided to quit just twodays into that tour. I remember that like it wasyesterday: sitting in the parking lot of a car lotat 12:30 AM in Vero Beach, FL. We were talk-ing out our options and the idea of buying anew van came up. I thought, “Y’all can’t beserious,” and, “How in the heck would wepull that off?” Then Terry explained a five-year plan for the band and a plan to pay off thenew van in that time. Five years flashed infront of my head and I just about had a panic

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Punk is a crappy old van held together with a pickle jar lidthat you have to hobble to in the morning and drive to another show!

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attack. Even though we had surpassed this ideamonths earlier, I was still in the frame of mindthat this was just a spare time band. I remem-ber it clearly. I said, “Count me out. I cannotpay for this. I can’t even pay for a can of beansat this point.” I felt like I was in deep. Well, wegot that van somehow and that’s just anotherstory that proves that you all make things hap-pen. Gosh, I remember us searching for a bloodbank in Salt Lake City, so we could meet thatmonth’s van payments. That happened to be atour that Ted did not go on. See what happenswhen Ted is not there? We had to get a van thatwouldn’t break down. Thank God for Ted! HeyTed, you are quite the auto repairman. How doyou keep those touring automobiles going andwhen did you learn that skill? Ted: I think it’s in my blood. When I was nine,I took my bike apart and my parents freakedout. I told them I just needed some part to putit back together. They humored me, and lo andbehold, I put it back together. I guess then Irealized forever I would fix the world onemachine at a time. We have had a lot of busted-ass vans. As the band’s mechanic I have had tofix many Dodges, two Fords—one mini andone full-sized—I fixed an ‘84 Chevy Impalataxi cab, The Ramen Cab, and I think somemini trucks and rental cars as well. My favoritewas The Ramen Cab that our friend Skott gaveto us when he moved to California. I rebuilt thetransmission in my bedroom and we packed itfull of our stuff and we piled into the front seat.That’s where “front seat solidarity” came from.Rymo: We toured in a van with a huge, uglywelded room on the back that looked like thespace shuttle or Tennessee. We like to arrive instyle and that van had a “Dixie”’ horn. Shit.

Scott: What was the seller of that van like?Rymo: We were in kind of a bind, and likeusual, it was about a week or two before tourand we didn’t have a van. We were looking atRVs, trucks, classic old RVs, you name it.Terry was driving down some random streeton the west side and saw this crazy lookingbeast of a van with a for sale sign on it and ranand told me. The owner was this old, retirednavy man who just one day up and decided toweld an entire back room onto his alreadyhuge van. He was a vitamin salesman and rightat the last minute after we paid for the van andhopped in, he tried to make us pray and wepeeled out. Scott: I know the origins of the touring taxi,but tell us about the Ramen Cab. Rymo: Our friend Skott Cowgill obtained anold, used cab and got some professional letter-ing put on it that said Ramen Cab and hewould give people rides for free or for ramen.He moved out to California and left the car torot. A tour was about to happen in a week ortwo and Teddy decided he could fix up thecab, if only we could all sit in the front seat.Lots of people started weird rumors, and tothis day there are a few people who think weactually paid a cabbie to drive us on tour withthe meter running and stuff!Scott: You all talked about doing a tour onbikes. You planned on carrying the amps andwhatever else you would need on a bike-trail-er attached to the bike. Have you all done this?Rymo: Honestly, I can’t imagine the band everbreaking up until we do that bike tour. At thetime we thought of it, we had never heard ofanyone doing a tour on their bikes, but there isa band called Bicycle and they have been

doing that for years. There was this bandcalled Dead Things who have done it also. Istill really, really want to do that.Scott: What are some ups and downs of tour-ing you all have faced?Ted: Alaska was amazing. We brought Tate andCraig D with us. The van kept breaking down,so I stayed busy. I had to put a used transmis-sion in at a lodge we played. I did this in theparking lot. As soon as I finished, we drove fiftyhours straight to Elkford, Canada only to missour show by half an hour. We woke up the nextday and played to some kids at 10 AM. We’veseen so much of America. We have seen lots ofswimming holes and punk houses. We haveseen the Grand Canyon, rooftops, junkyards,mountains. You get the picture.Rymo: One of the biggest ups for me is weweren’t very popular in our hometown but wewould go to some odd, tiny town in the mid-dle of nowhere and kids we never met weresinging along to our songs. They were justreally excited that we made it to their town. Icould have stopped playing right then andthere, you know. I think that’s all I ever want-ed. Probably the coolest thing that ever hap-pened to us on tour was when we played anIndian reservation, we’ve played a few, but weplayed in Chinle, Arizona and went to theircanyon instead of the Grand Canyon. It wascalled the Canyon de Chelly and these Navajopunks took us down there and told us all thelegends of the Anasazi and all the history ofthe land.Scott: Not many bands get that kind of experience.Rymo: Some of the downers are the argu-ments you get into on the road with your bestfriends over the stupidest things.

In an ideal world, should go hand in hand.

labor and creativity

Scott: What social concerns do you alladdress as a band?Ted: Well, my biggest concern is the generalpublic’s ability to believe everything themedia and the government tells them. I’m notsaying we all need to revolt, but it’s time wejoin in on the decision making in this country.Go to a city council meeting. Send letters togovernment officials about your concerns.Stop supporting media-controlling businesses.Basically, start doing what is right, not whatyou are told.Rymo: A lot of young kids go to our shows,like fifteen to twenty-year-olds, but there are alot of people our age, like thirty to forty. I hon-estly think the best thing I can offer them isletting them know that you can still do this andhave fun. Do something different at our age,not that we’re that old. The kids are alwayslike, “Whoa, you could be our parents. That’sso cool!” Scott: What motivates you all to be in theband this long?Ted: Touring Alaska.Rymo: For me, it’s all I can do. Plus it’s whatI wanted to do with my life when I was a kid.You know, just play dumb ass songs evenwhen you’re old and nobody cares anymore. Iget pretty motivated by Terry and Ted. Really,

we are a pretty funny outfit. I like beingaround you guys.Scott: We have talked about a culture close to ourhearts. Care to take a poke at popular culture?Rymo: Pop music is just a button to push, youknow? I got a standard answer about popmusic. It just sucks, and nobody wants it anydifferent, instead of just figuring out how youyourself want it to be or how you couldchange it. I do get excited about pop cultureevery now and then. I think about movies thatare about how sad everyone is and they don’teven know it, like Fight Club or AmericanBeauty. To me, they seem like they are tryingto wake up Americans and I like that. Scott: I think I know what you’re saying.Yeah, take what you can get. But we are in sadstate of affairs when we need a wake-up callfrom Hollywood.Rymo: I know I just sound like an old, jadedguy all the time, but, seriously, nobody isinterested in what happened in their own“scene” or culture or family or even their owntown, like five, ten years ago. I bet the onlyscene left to “discover” America’s new musicwould be stuff on subways, you know, peopleplaying songs for spare change. You’ll hearthe best sounds like that.Scott: I sometimes think the best music or

band is one I’ll never hear. They’re deep in theforest playing right now. I can’t hear it, butthat does not mean it’s not being played. Ted: I’ve recently realized that music worksin cycles. As I get old, I hear the radio and say,“This shit sucks.” Then I listen to the oldiesstation and realize, that old shit was just asdumb as the new shit. I think as the populationgrows there are just more people willing to lis-ten to crap. The underground will always bethe underground and in cycles it becomes pop.That way, us punks can always be bitter.Scott: As of now, what music brings you joy? Ted: Tough question. There are a lot of bandsthat we play with on the road. That is aboutthe only new music I know. I’ll just name afew: Carrie Nations, Allergic to Bullshit,Shotwell, The Bananas, Sexy, GrabassCharlestons, One Reason, the Visitations, theCan Kickers, o Madeline, Japanther, R3,AC/DC, David Dondero…Scott: Any final words?Terry: If any one can book a show for us inVermont, New Hampshire, or Hawaii. Thoseare the only states we haven’t played.

This Bike Is A Pipebomb, 720 Pickens, Pensacola, FL 32501

53

It was really easy for me to not want to have heroesbecause all my heroes are total idiots.

Do you ever notice the sky during the calm period before a storm? It’s notraining or anything yet, but if you look off in the distance, you can see the dark clouds spilling towards you and youknow you’re in for some nasty weather. That’s sort of what the Observers sound like: ominous, foreboding, and notnecessarily confrontational, but just enough to set you on edge. They reflect a sentiment felt by many of us, asense that the world is crumbling around us and that we might not be here tomorrow, but we still keep going, iffor no other reason than to prove that we can. Between the ground-swelling rhythm section and the ethereal singingand guitar-playing, the desperation in their collective voice is rarely equaled in music. Their legend is forming as wespeak; don’t wait twenty years for some American Hardcore book to mythologize them. Participate.

oBSERVERSthe

Doug: vocalsKashani: guitarColin: bassMike: drums

Interview by JoshPhotos by Megan Pants and Todd Taylor

Josh: How many different bands are each ofyou in?Mike: Why don’t you give him the latestcount, there, Colin?Colin: I’m in eight bands.Mike: Only eight?Colin: Eight that have played out.Mike: I’m in three at present.Doug: Just one.Kashani: Three.Josh: Do you find it hard to be in so manybands, like you have to cancel an Observersshow so Mike can go to Assisted LivingDracula practice?Mike: Oh, I guess that’s four bands. No, it’snever been a problem. It’s what I love doing,that’s why I do it.Josh: What do you get out of being in theObservers that you don’t get out of theother bands?Kashani: Nothing! [laughter]Mike: This band tours more than any of myother bands, and I like that a lot.Doug: Do you guys need me to leave theroom and then you can answer?Josh: Doug, why do you think it’s unhealthyto have heroes?Doug: I think that, too often, people will justend up emulating their heroes to the pointwhere they just become copycats or they puttoo much stock in what other people do. Ikind of think that we’re all the same, thatwe’re all just people. I don’t like when peo-ple worship a band or a person. For example,take a band like Social Distortion. So manypeople look up to Mike Ness, but there’sreally no difference between what he’s done

and what they can do. There are all thesepeople that will dress like him and try to actthe way they think he acts or something likethat, and you just end up getting a lot of peo-ple who aren’t themselves and a lot of musicthat’s already been done before.Mike: If you’re too caught up in what otherpeople are doing, you’re missing out on yourown history.Doug: [in funny voice] Just be yourself, man!Kashani: I like to have heroes. I have manyheroes, people who I like to fantasize about.The thing is, when I was younger, my twobig heroes were Johnny Thunders andIndiana Jones. One is the big survivor, withthe ball running after him and all that, andthen Johnny Thunders is the anti-survivor,the kind of guy who’s bent on self-destruc-tion. So you have both sides.Colin: It was really easy for me to not wantto have heroes because all my heroes aretotal idiots. I’m a huge Misfits fan [laughter],and talking with Glenn Danzig for an hourwould be the most horrific “let’s do coke offa stripper’s ta-ta’s” conversation. I just don’twant to talk to them. I like the music thatthey make, but it makes it easy to not want totalk to them.Josh: Were you guys surprised at all by theresponse that you’ve gotten? The album soldout the first couple of pressings pretty quick.It made a lot of people’s top ten lists at theend of the year…Mike: Floored. Colin: Absolutely.Mike: Totally taken aback.Colin: It’s really weird, like that review that

Todd wrote. That was really flattering.Doug: Obviously, I like the record. As far asthe music goes, I’m happy with the album,but to get that sort of response is… I don’tknow the person who expects that. Whoactually thinks, “I made this awesome recordand I know everybody’s going to rave aboutit and it’s going to sell out.” Who does that?Josh: A lot of people do.Doug: The sad thing is that they do. Yeah,it’s pretty amazing.Kashani: It’s kind of like we just threw ittogether, it seems like. I put more effort into put-ting together a guitar demo in 1998. [laughter]Doug: Just for the record, I don’t feel like Ithrew it together.Mike: “We didn’t really put in any timeor effort.”Doug: “Nobody worked on it.”Josh: Completely changing the subject,when was the last time a grown man shit hispants and showed it to you?Mike: That would have to be in earlyFebruary or late January in Austin, Texas,when a grown man did, in fact, shit his pantsand showed it to me. Mr. Patrick Costellofrom the Dillinger Four and I were playing ina band in Austin, where we spent a large partof our time drinking and sitting around ourfriend Ben’s living room. At one point,Paddy, as he put it, “Gambled on a fart andlost,” and then decided to drop trou and dis-play his… yeah.Doug: I’m impressed.Josh: Can you give me a rough estimate ofhow much beer and hamburger meat youguys went through?

Mike: We bought a ten-pound pack of ham-burger meat that we thought was $1.49 butwas actually $1.49 a pound [laughter], andthen beer… twenty-five cases of Lone Star,give or take.Josh: And that’s in how much time?Mike: Two weeks.Josh: What makes you guys feel like youcan’t look yourselves in the face?Doug: That song, “Lead Pill,” that’s aboutbeing at that stage in your life where you feelyou’re pretty much a complete failure ateverything you try. The idea that maybeyou’ve been on this course your whole life,where you’re doomed to fail and everyonearound you knew it but nobody’s ever toldyou, so you’ve ended up going way past thepoint of no return and you realize, “Oh, wow,I’m never going to succeed at this thing,” forwhatever reason: character flaws or intelli-gence or whatever. That song’s about thatmoment of just realizing that you’ve failed.Josh: That’s a pretty depressing follow-up toPaddy shitting his pants. [laughter] Colin,you’re an interviewer?Colin: Yes. I interview a host of people, real-ly. It’s also the same job that our friendKashani holds and Doug once held, at a placecalled BN Research in Portland, Oregon.Surveys and focus groups, mainly.Josh: About what?Kashani: It’s top secret.Colin: A host of topics, really. [laughter]Josh: Like, “Are you satisfied with the sizeof your penis?”Colin: I am, but that’s not what I ask themabout. [laughter] Banfield Pet Hospital is ourlead client. We survey their customers andsee how satisfied they are. For example,“Are you very satisfied, somewhat satisfied,somewhat dissatisfied, or very dissatisfied?”

Stuff like that.Josh: If you couldthink back to highschool and replaceany book that youhad to read withany book you want,what would it be?Colin: I wouldtake out All’s Quieton the WesternFront and put inGet in the Van.Josh: Why?Colin: There’s awhole differentkind of war.There’s one that I’ll have pretty much nothingto do with in my lifetime, but there’s alsoone’s that I definitely will. All’s Quiet, I did-n’t get all the way through it, to be honest, butit’s about life in the trenches and fighting awar whether you believe in it or not. I’m notever really gonna go to war. I’d go to Canadafirst or something. I don’t like it. I do likebeing in touring bands, and Get in the Van byHenry Rollins is this tour diary from being inBlack Flag. It’s okay to go crazy [laughter],it’s okay to live off Snickers bars or live offnothing. You don’t need anybody to survivein these situations. I didn’t finish that one allthe way, either. [laughter] I left it on aGreyhound somewhere between Los Angelesand Portland. If I had read it in high school…Josh: Whoa.Colin: Whole thing.Doug: I don’t know what I’d replace themwith but I’d definitely get rid of all the EmilyBrontë novels that I had to read, WutheringHeights and all that crap. No time for that.Kashani: There’s this book that I wish I

would have read a lot earlier in my life.Gravity’s Rainbow. It took me about a year tofinish, like an eight hundred page novel orsomething, and it’s all stream-of-conscious-ness. It was written by Thomas Pynchon. Iwas probably reading Lord of the Flies whenI was fourteen, but if I had read Gravity’sRainbow when I was fourteen, I’d be a com-pletely different prophet. I would have beenawesome.Josh: How do you think you would havebeen different?Kashani: I just think that the way my brainwould have functioned would have beencompletely maneuvered and realigned.Think of my brain as an automobile. It wouldhave been like a mechanic, a really good one.Mike: How do you follow that up? I’venever read a book.Doug: Mike reads pornography.Josh: So Mike, you hitchhiked fromArkansas to Texas?Mike: Oklahoma. I went with my friendLew and we hitchhiked from Oklahoma City

55

How do youguys avoidbeing dogmatic?

Q:I just

think that'sfunny. An

automatic dog.A:

to Austin. It took us two days, five rides, and itwas slow goings but no problems. I’m sure itwas a funny sight, Lew and I in matching hood-less red sweatshirts, like crewneck sweatshirts,with our thumbs out. His said “The Ergs!” realbig on the front and I just looked like a retard inmine. We really don’t have as many shockinghitchhiking stories as one might think. Didn’thave to felate any truckers.Josh: Didn’t have to…Mike: No, all of them willfully.Josh: In what ways have we been trivialized?Doug: I like that idea of everything beingoversimplified. Like by our government, forexample, they want us to believe that every-thing’s really black and white. Right now, withthe wars that we’re engaged in, it’s sort of thatwhole thing where they’re like, “Gotta get theevildoers. There’s an axis of evil.” And it’sreally simple like that. Our lives are being triv-ialized because we’re the ones losing our livesover this really bullshit war on the idea of ter-ror. That’s what the song “Paralyzer” is about.Mike: I didn’t write the lyrics, but my take ona line like that is taking matters of life anddeath and reducing them to good and evil,these fictitious notions that don’t have anybearing on our lives.Doug: It’s that whole idea of somebody likeGeorge Bush. To him, our lives are expend-able for this thing that he’s trying to do or forthis money that he’s trying to make.Josh: What’s the theme of the band?Kashani: I want to say dementia.Doug: There’s a couple of themes that I’mgoing for. I like to think that we’re a band thatjust focuses on the human experience.However, I think what happens a lot is thatbecause many of the lyrics or general tone ofthe songs and artwork deal with depression andisolation, some people really get hung up onthat and think of us as this really dark, depress-ing band, but I’ve never really felt like that. Ithink that’s just the way everybody feels. Thehappiest people you know and the mostdepressed people you know have these feel-ings. Everybody has these feelings. It’s just thatnot everybody talks about them. People hide itin different ways. With all the songs, I try totouch on everything—death, life, love, politics,and everything like that—things that every-body deals with on a day-to-day basis.Mike: And chicks.Doug: Chicks and babes. And drugs and rock-’n’roll and party time.Mike: And funny sunglasses.Josh: What gives you guys hope?Mike: Meeting like-minded people.Doug: Yeah, where even if you feel likeyou’re greatly outnumbered, just to know thatthere’s at least a small underground. It’s reallynice touring a lot and in every town, you stillmeet all the same idiots that you have at home.Whether that’s just your typical frat boy or…

Mike: Zinester…Colin: People from Alabama who I don’t real-ly care for and think their glasses are kind ofold hat…[laughter]Doug: Yeah, even people in the punk rockscene, there’s all these idiots, but then youmeet these really awesome individuals inevery town, too. That’s what keeps us goingand makes it worth it.Mike: Finding people who are fighting thesame fight, here and abroad.Josh: How does growing old leave you noth-ing to believe in?Colin: You love asking those questions,don’t you?Josh: You talk shit during bowling. This iswhat happens.Doug: Payback!Colin: Racist. [laughter]Doug: That’s a song about a relationship, aguy and a girl breaking up. Basically, they’rebreaking up because they found that they’regetting older and the thrill is gone and they’vegrown apart. I could get more in detail but Idon’t know if I will. The idea of growing oldleaving nothing to believe in… when you’reyounger, you’re more optimistic about things.For example, with this particular relationship,right off the bat people were probably like,“That’s not going to work because there’s thisobvious difference between the two people,”but when they were at the beginning of it, theyreally believed that there was a way that itwould work out. Then years into it, they’re notas optimistic about it. They realize that thereare big differences and it has to end.Mike: Clearly hypothetical.Colin: What was her name, Doug?Doug: I will say this: it is not about me.Josh: What impact has Portland had on the band.What does it offer that other cities might not?Mike: I find it motivating. The music scenethere is one of the best that I’ve ever encoun-tered. Being a part of that is inspiration to dowhat we do as hard as we can.Doug: There’s just so many really inspiringbands to have come out of Portland in the last 5years or so. There’s a lot to draw from and it’sa very diverse scene. One thing that I really likeabout Portland is that there aren’t too manybands doing the same exact thing. It seems thatabout five to 7 years ago, a lot of people movedto Portland from other places, Texas, Idaho,Bellingham, all over the place. That’s when alot of cool bands formed made up of these peo-ple with such different backgrounds.Eventually, you got the Triggers, the Hunches,the Minds, the Diskords, Electric Eye, Plan R,The Riffs, Riot Cop, the Epoxies, and theExploding Hearts, all playing the same showsor always playing with each other. That madePortland’s scene so interesting, and I’ve defi-nitely left out so many other bands, too.Mike: Also, Portland has good doughnuts.

Doug: The weather’s nice.Josh: How do you guys think you avoid beingdogmatic?Mike: We just don’t answer questions aboutour lyrics.Kashani: I just think that’s funny. An auto-matic dog.Mike: It’s not something that we consciously

oBSthe

avoid, but it’s not something that we’ve everbeen accused of.Doug: “Am I avoiding being dogmatic?”Mike: Next question, please. God.Josh: What’s the strangest thing Doug’s voicehas ever been compared to?Kashani: There was a live review that com-pared him to Shawn Stern of Youth Brigade.

Mike: I think it’s the most accurate one. Mostpeople in the band disagree.Doug: I agree. There are similarities. Nothingagainst Shawn Stern or Youth Brigade, but Idon’t get that excited about that, because Ihear it a lot and I’d rather not be compared toanyone, but I hear what they’re saying. Wehave a similar range.

Mike: Also, some nutjob (Todd Taylor)referred to it as “nearly operatic.”Doug: Yeah, that was weird.Kashani: There was a Morrissey comparison.Doug: Morrissey and Danzig. I don’t think Isound like either one at all. I just thinkI get compared to guys in punk bandswho sing as opposed to yell.

57

SERVERS

Like The Germs, a combination of theatrics andsuperb songwriting made them the darlings ofthe original L.A. punk scene. Unlike TheGerms, The Screamers never released a studiorecord, and so their legacy continues to live onin L.A. punk aficionados. Rough demos andlive recordings surface periodically, testifyingto just how formidable a band The Screamerswere. The Screamers were truly original—theclosest comparison being the minimalism andexperimentation of The Velvet Undergroundcombined with blaring keyboards and synthe-sizers. And that’s just for one short period ofthe band’s supernova existence.

The makeup of The Screamers was near per-fect. In main songwriter and synthesizer playerTommy Gear, The Screamers gained sharp wit.Front man Tomata Du Plenty was absolutelymesmerizing, both vocally and visually.Drummer K.K. Barrett provided the minimalistbeat needed to hold The Screamers together;and in keyboard player Paul Roessler, the bandhad one of the most talented musicians on theL.A. punk scene. And by 1981, they were gone.Not with a bang, but a whimper. Adding to theirobscurity is their almost complete unaccount-ability: Tommy Gear simply disappeared offthe music map; K.K. Barrett now has a suc-cessful career in the movie industry; and tragi-cally, the beloved Du Plenty died of AIDS in2000, leaving Roessler the only Screamer stillactive in music.

In the end, The Screamers’ complete disre-gard for conformity and stagnation proved tobe their unraveling. They did things on theirown creative terms; both musically, TheScreamers never had a guitarist or bassist; andin business, turning down multiple recorddeals. Unfortunately, these admirable attributesare not conducive to longevity, and without aproper record, The Screamers have been dealt ahard hand by time.

After The Screamers, Paul played with NinaHagen. He’s released several solo albums, and

continues to play with Hagen and Mike Watt(Minutemen, fIREHOSE). When not busytouring, Paul can be found producing andrecording (on the day of this interview, he wasputting the final touches on some Josie Cottonsongs). A complete listing of all the bands Paulhas been in would fill a phone book, but it’sThe Screamers he’s most remembered for, andfor good reason. To paraphrase Jello Biafra,“The Screamers were the greatest band neversigned.” Paul is very amiable, intelligent and isa big proponent of staying drug-free; he’s cur-rently in school to become a drug counselor.Much respect. —Ryan

Ryan: How did you and your family end upliving in the Caribbean?Paul: Well, I was eleven and Kira was eight.My dad was the head of the computer center atYale University. It was an intense lifestyle andI guess he sort of fulfilled a dream. I alwayssuspected that there was some dark secretinvolved in that, but the way it was proposed tous was, “Oh, I’m just following my dreams ofbeing an underwater photographer in theCaribbean.” My parents got divorced aboutfive years after that, so there was probablysome kind of trouble in paradise. There couldhave been some friction between my parentsthat they thought that was going to cure. Ryan: Is that where you got into reggae music? Paul: You seem to have some misplaced ideathat I’m crazy about reggae music. Ryan: You did have dreadlocks for awhile.Paul: Dreadlocks never really meant reggaemusic. What happened with reggae music wasafter The Screamers broke up, I started playingwith Nina Hagan and she had dreadlocks. I hadnever seen dreadlocks and I looked at her andwent, “Oh my god, your hair is so cool. Whatthe fuck did you do to it?” When we moved toNew York I was playing with her and we wentand saw some cool movies. We saw TheHarder They Come and Rockers. These were

cool Rastafari movies where the Rastafaris areportrayed as these saintly, in-the-woods, potsmoking guys and marijuana was really impor-tant to me at the time. I really related to it. I meta bunch of Rastas there, but when I startedreading about the religion behind it and hang-ing out with them, I realized that there weresome things with the Rastas that were hard forme to swallow. I thought that there was anintense misogyny that went on, and any kind ofdogmatic religion is hard for me to swallow. Iliked that they were rebels and the way theywere portrayed in the movies; that they havesome kind of spiritual wisdom that they backedup with machine guns. Dreadlocks meantsomething different, though. I’m willing to talkabout dreadlocks because I had them for solong—like twenty-five years. There are theseladies getting $600 haircuts and I think it lookshorrible. It just seemed like such conspicuousconsumption. So I had hair that I didn’t do any-thing to, and it’s a big “fuck you” to society. Ryan: What were you into before punk hit?Paul: My dad was into classical music when Iwas really little. I remember listening toWagner and Harry Parch. My mom liked folkmusic. When I was six they got me all thePeter, Paul and Mary records. For a long time Ithought that was cheesy until I learned thatPeter, Paul and Mary are a commercialized ver-sion of very deep-rooted folk music. Actually, Ithink that helped me develop a sense of melodyand an appreciation of folk music that bouncedoff the classical music my Dad listened to.Peter, Paul and Mary did a lot of Bob Dylansongs. I remember being seven years old andlooking at their records and going, “Wow, allmy favorite songs are written by B. Dylan!”And then I got into Bob Dylan. I also had anuncle who would give me a record on my birth-day and Christmas. He gave me The Band,Deja Vu and Sgt. Peppers. I really loved FrankZappa. I was taking piano lessons from the timeI was eight, so as my musical skills progressed,

58

In 1978, The Screamers were the biggest punk band in LosAngeles. Through Bowie-like media manipulation, image,and intelligence, The Screamers built a following beforethey played a single note. +++

Pau Roess er Interview by Ryan Leach and

Mor Fleisher Pictures by Jenny Lens and

Rawl Power

I went through this immature phase where I wanted com-plexity. Being a keyboard player, I got into Yes and ELP. Ryan: And that’s what led to Arc Squared? Paul: Yeah, I was in a prog phase at about sixteen. We livedin the Bay Area for a couple of years after the Caribbean. Myparents got divorced and we moved to L.A. I didn’t knowanybody when we moved out to Los Angeles. I started smok-ing a lot of pot and listening to a lot of prog rock. I met someguys in jazz band at school who had an Alice Cooper coverband. That band broke up and they said they wanted to do anoriginals band. So I started composing for that band and Iwrote a concept album. Usually, people are just stoned andsay they want to write a concept album, but I actually wentand wrote one. I’m kind of proud of it. I was sixteen and Ispent the next couple of years trying to get people to learnhow to play it. People would try and lose their minds. Mor: How did you get into punk rock from prog rock?Paul: David Bowie. While I was working on Arc Squared Iwent to this special school called IPS and I met Paul Beahm,who later became Darby Crash of The Germs. We becamereally good friends. I was already friends with Will Matta,who wrote for Slash, and I met Pat Smear, too. There was awhole clique of us. Darby was a Bowie freak. People told me,“Don’t talk to him. He’ll brainwash you.” Darby was reallyinto mind control and feeding people acid. He was kind oftwisting people up a little bit. I immediately thought he was areally interesting person and that there was something vul-nerable and endearing to him underneath the surface of com-plete megalomania and hostility. But I think Darby wasimpressed that I did Arc Squared. It really wasn’t his cup oftea, but he never insulted me about it.

To introduce myself to him I went [in goon voice], “Oh, soI hear you’re really into Bowie.” And he was so vicious. ThenI asked him if he liked The Rolling Stones and he goes [inpatronizing voice], “Oh, yeah, Mick Jagger’s really cool!”And he laughed at me, because at that point Mick Jagger was-n’t cool anymore. Darby was really impressive in how viciousand cunning he was. I followed him around and talked to him.Then I went to a punk show where The Deadbeats and TheGerms were playing—Darby had invited us. The Deadbeatswere this prog/punk band, so it really spoke to me. The Germswere this incredibly advanced, complicated theatre piecewhere the music was so secondary, but it was something thatyou hadn’t seen before. In high school, Paul Beahm was thenew thing. The Germs would go onstage and it didn’t matterwhat they did. I never saw a band get on stage and their goalwas to start a riot. With the Germs it was like, “We’re up here,but the audience is important, too. I’m going to talk to theaudience and ask that guy if I can have his pin and ask him toget me a beer. And my friend Melissa is over there, so I’ll yellto her.” Everything that was going on in the room was part ofit, and it was new and modern. Darby was fully developed attwenty. I’m still evolving and changing. That’s why there isstill this legend about him—to the people he knew, he touchedthem. There was something weird about him. Ryan: Being a classically trained pianist, did you have anyreservations about what role you could play in the punk scene?Paul: Probably a little bit. I remember reading a Slash article—it was an interview with Charlotte Caffey (Go-Go’s)—and shesaid that she started out playing classical piano. I had a bigcrush on her! And then I started playing drums. I had a feeling

Top: Paul today, in the SecondmenAbove: The Screamers, 1978© Jenny Lens Punk Archive, www.jennylens.net

that it would come around. As important andinfluential as punk rock was on me, I knew noth-ing stays the same. And then four months later,The Screamers happened. I knew keyboardswouldn’t be gone forever. Ryan: Was it the theatrics or the music of TheScreamers that interested you the most?Paul: Well, the amazing thing about TheGerms is if they did all that theatre stuff andthey sucked, they wouldn’t have had any stay-ing power. The Germs lyrics I can really pon-der. “I’m a Lexicon Devil with a batteredbrain.” And what’s a Lexicon Devil? It’s aDevil of words. And Pat was a great, talented,brilliant musician. He wrote great chord pro-gressions. The Screamers also had really goodsongs. Songs like “Better World” and “EvaBraun.” “Eva Braun” was such a super simplesong. And “Vertigo,” which is the silliest popsong. I liked their heavier songs. Stuff like“Going Steady with Twiggy” I really couldn’tget into. As I talk about it, The Screamers andThe Germs were not songwriters or musicians;they were performance artists that becamemusicians for a very short period of time.That’s why The Germs and The Screamersmight have never been able to make a secondalbum. They were a one shot thing. TheScreamers said we don’t want to make records,we want to make movies. And Darby goes,“I’m dead now. I said what I have to say and Imeant it. I wasn’t lying.”

So anyway, The Screamers’ music and the-atrics were great. The Screamers were so newand it was such a complete package: their lookto the way they moved. I watched them do aninterview when I was sort of on probation in the

beginning—I was the hired guy for the first sixmonths—and they did an interview withFlipside and Tommy Gear just shredded theirquestions: “Is that really what you want toknow?” “Is that what your readership reallywants to read about?” It just became a reallyhostile situation. It was incredible. Tommy hadthis real hostility and Tomata was a sweet per-son. K.K. was more of a livewire, a really edgyguy. There was a lot of talent in that band. Andtheir first keyboard player, David Browne, Ididn’t get the final story about how they split,but he was amazing. I was really young. I waseighteen or nineteen, and those guys weretwenty-five or twenty-six, and Tomata was thir-ty, and they were smart as fuck. They hadenough life experience to just shut me down. Icould never hold up my end in an argument. Iwas the kid and if I decided that I wanted tostand up to The Screamers as an equal, I wouldfail. I would embarrass myself. I could playgreat. I could play circles around any of them,which made me valuable. I was aggressive. I’mnot totally dumb, as I look back on it, but I did-n’t feel a strong confidence.

They had an idea of what it was to be aScreamer. It is a very interesting concept. Interms of art, what does that fall under? You’renot creating an identity, but a group identity.And that group identity is in all aspects of yourlife. It was like The Beatles. When I was grow-ing up, I thought The Beatles all lived in onehouse. And they slept in the same bed—thiswas before I knew what sex was. The illusionwas that they were a family. The Germs andThe Screamers bought into it. The Screamerswere very informed by advertising, persona and

image, which comes from post-modernism,Bowie, and Andy Warhol. They controlled howpeople saw them. And Darby got a lot of hisinformation from Scientology and philosophy.If your band is being controlled by you throughadvertising, you have a hold on your publicpersona. That’s something that is very direct.Tommy was really influenced by a book calledWinning through Intimidation, which is a busi-ness book. If your band is a business entity con-trolled through intimidation, that’s a very sharparrow pointing at the public. And Darby hadthis thing about, “Oh, I’m going to kill myself,so everything I do will be colored later. Andwhen I die, if nobody likes me now, I’m goingto construct just the right story so when I dieit’s like, ‘Fuck.’” Ryan: Did you have any inkling that he wasgoing to kill himself?Paul: Oh, he said he was going to kill himself.Ryan: Did you actually believe him? Paul: You never believe that. I knew he wasdifferent. I don’t know if he knew it. I think youcan look back and go, “Oh, he knew he wasgoing to kill himself.” Maybe it’s not that heknew consciously that he was going to kill him-self, he was always going to kill himself. Andhe had moments where he knew it. With a per-son like that, you always hope that somethingwill happen. Someone will reach him.Someone will turn him around. He was toosmart. He had a 180 IQ. When the mind is sickand damaged, a 180 IQ erects defenses to pro-tect the damage and the wound. Intelligencedoesn’t alleviate unless you decide, “I’m goingto live and turn my intelligence on myself andget the answer to this. I’m going to find out

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I would do things like take a streetsign with pickups attached to itand roll dice on it and play itthrough a fuzz box.

The Screamers, 1978© Jenny Lens Punk Archive

www.jennylens.net ++ +

what is wrong with me and I will survive.”With people like Kurt Cobain and Darby, theirintelligence has decided that the world isfucked and it makes sense that, to them, thatthey feel this way. And they are going to provethat the world is wrong. And they’re way toosmart to talk about it. It’s tragic. I’ve known ahandful of them. Mor: What did you think of The Screamerswanting to make a movie instead of a record? Paul: With all theories you wind up with theresults. For instance, Marxism: it’s a great the-ory but its results are questionable. So TheScreamers had this idea and it made them dis-appear off of the face of the earth. And themovie is not watchable. I have some bitternessabout it. The Screamers made a couple of weirdchanges. The Screamers were a minimalistpunk rock band until ’78. In early ’79, theydecided that they were going to play to tapes,incorporate two violinists, have another singercome out in the middle and drastically alterwhat they were doing. Now, it still kind ofworked. We were doing songs like “Scream”and “Why the World.” These songs were a lit-

tle bit more dance oriented. The Screamersrefused to stay the same. You gotta take yourhats off to a band that will go the extra nineyards, because it’s easy to plug in your guitarsand play your hits. And it is a pain in the ass todo all this extra stuff. So that was their philos-ophy. They kept doing it until it toppled. I havenothing but respect for them. My parents taughtme it was better to be average on the best teamthen the best on the bad team. I have nothingbut respect for them trying to do that. They paida really big price for being ambitious—not in abad way—but in an artistic, brave, courageousand not lazy way. That movie is Rene Daalder’smovie. You don’t see Tommy and Tomata’smovie. I think Rene Daalder could have madehis fucking movie and The Screamers couldhave been The Screamers.Mor: Where is Tommy?Paul: He’s in Los Angeles. He doesn’t reallylike to talk about this stuff. I think he went onwith his life. I’m a musician. I became commit-ted to music when I was eleven. And that was alove that never went away. If I’m not doingmusic I feel anxious and depressed. That’s notTommy. I think Tommy studied medicine. Hedid some serious school stuff. I hesitate to sayhe’s bitter. I hesitate to say he has regrets. Idon’t know. I think it’s possible that he’s total-ly fine with the whole thing. And Tommy beinga rock star was not really what he had in mind. Ryan: It’s odd because he’s unaccounted for.

Paul: Interesting. It’s really cool to talk aboutTommy Gear because Tommy Gear is one ofthe smartest and most impressive people ever.He was just so amazing. He would walk into aroom and just take it over. When the band brokeup, he lost that; it went away. I don’t knowwhether he was just sad or devastated. I don’tever want to judge because I don’t fully under-stand what happened. But I do know that whenI was working with him he had so many influ-ences and ideas. Tommy’s mind was so keenand he was a beautifully looking man—just thecomplete package. He was a really impressiveguy. Some of these people off themselves orjust disappear off of the face of the earth. Ryan: You were in two (The Screamers andNervous Gender) of the very few early L.A.punk bands with openly gay members. Didthese bands receive any homophobic threats? Paul: Well, I don’t remember that being a prob-lem. I think you had pretty informed audiencesin the early L.A. punk scene. I didn’t play withNervous Gender over the whole span of theircareer. There might have been shows later onwhere they had to deal with that—where

punkers and idiots were coming out. But I willsay that when you were standing in front ofNervous Gender, you did not want to fuck withthem. Whether they were gay or not, they wereso intense that if you didn’t like them, you left.You did not want to confront those guys. Andthat’s what was neat about them—they werescary. So, no, but that could have happenedlater. The initial punk scene was mostly artists. Mor: Speaking of Nervous Gender, what was itlike playing with an eight-year-old drummer?Paul: You have to accept the things you cannotchange and change the things you can. He was-n’t a particularly talented drummer. What hap-pened was I had to invent a new theory ofrhythm and I named it the avalanche theory;that if music is fast enough you can’t really tellwhat the beat is. So the music would sound justflutter. He would just go, “bop, bop, bop, bop.”For anyone that never heard Nervous Gender,they were playing early synths that were nothooked up to each other. So there were all thesemodulations going on, nothing was linked.Already you have the three synths pulsingwrong and they couldn’t play them that well,either. A band like Kraftwerk will have all thesynthesizers linked together so the music isplayed in unison. Ryan: So it was out of key and tempo? Paul: Yeah, and tempo. I don’t know if they gotout of key, but pitch wasn’t that important. Iwould do things like take a street sign with

pickups attached to it and roll dice on it andplay it through a fuzz box. Eventually every-thing sounded like it was rolling down hill andit was very fast. Ryan: You were a member of 45 Grave. Whatare your memories of the late Rob Ritter?Paul: Interesting. I’ve learned a lot aboutmyself and a lot about people since then. Myopinions of Rob Ritter always change. I was soagainst heroin. He was the first person I sawthat without heroin he was so miserable and sodepressed that I started thinking, “Why shoulda person go through a long life being so miser-able and so depressed? He should just go aheadand be a junkie.” Because it seemed like he wasso happy when he was on dope. He wouldalways be lit up and smiling and all cool whenhe was on heroin. And then he died. And forawhile that was my philosophy—if you’re sodamaged that you’re miserable all the time, fixyourself and live happy as long as you can. ButI don’t buy that anymore because I know thatwhat he was feeling could have been addressed.Even someone like Darby; anybody can bereached, and nobody has to die and be miser-

able forever. Rob was really depressed. He haddepression and they didn’t know how to treat itback then. He could have been treated. Mor: How did 45 Grave’s “Party Time” makeit onto Return of the Living Dead? Paul: We did a single with a metal producer—the same guy who did X’s Wild Thing—Michael Wagner, and when punk bands weretrying to sell out and get a big hit, they wouldgo to him. With 45 Grave there was some ofthat going on. 45 Grave was such a life-on-the-edge band, like if some money wasn’t going tobe made, people were going to kill each other,or hate each other. “Party Time” was a punksong and they made it a metal song. I think 45Grave were on Enigma at the time and I thinkthe label gave that song to the director of themovie. The skull pops up and the goes, “Doyou wanna party?” I think The Beastie Boysripped that off. It’s really close. Mor: What got you into producing?Paul: I don’t really like playing live that much.I really love recording. From the time I wasnineteen, I would get a hold of 4-tracks. Soevery 4-track I had I would rig together. I start-ed working with other people, and it was fun.When I was thirteen, I was compulsive to writesongs. It became compulsive to record them attwenty-two. But I like to work with other peo-ple, too. I like what they’re saying andI like almost everyone I work with; Imeld with them.

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Usually, people are just stoned and say they want to writea concept album, but I actually went and wrote one. + ++

Prologue

For five long and crazy years I was thelead singer and guitarist in an all-girlpunk band. We started in a classic girlband way: two of us knew how to playguitar, one of us had played drums sevenyears earlier, and one of us had neverpicked up a bass in her life. At our firstpractice in our drummer Misse’s base-ment, we played covers of Cub songsvery slowly and very badly.

Somehow within a few months, we man-aged to learn to play faster, write our ownsongs, buy larger amps and make it to prac-tice once a week. We moved our gear up tothe attic, put some Bikini Kill posters on thewalls, and the rest is history.

We may have been a band for five years,but our honeymoon period ended quickly.We spent a lot of our time in the attic fight-ing, manipulating, sighing, and rolling oureyes. Who was going to borrow a car so wecould drive our gear to our next show?Who made all the posters and put them upall over town while no one else lifted a fin-

ger? Why don’t the two of you want to goon tour? What do you mean that vocal partsounds out of tune?

What kept us going in the midst of all thatgrumpiness were the flashes of greatness thatwould occasionally come along. Like thefirst time we played a show where people inthe audience called out the names of songsthey wanted to hear. Or our big show in NewYork City where we played better than we’dever played before. And then there was thefact that we were one of the only all-girlbands in our city. There were girls who toldus that seeing us made them want to play

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All Girl BAnds onthe Big Screen

Overlooked and Underrated:

By Jennifer Whiteford

Illustrations by Art Fuentes

music too, and you’d have to be crazy to breakup a band after someone tells you somethinglike that. Being in an all-girl band began tofeel like a monumental accomplishment.

But even with all their greatness, all-female bands are often fraught with, in oneoverused word, drama. By the time my bandfinally broke up—during an emotional atticpractice where we all sat on the woodenfloorboards and cried—I had truly had myfill of girl band drama. I sold my amp and putmy guitar away. I honestly did not want toplay music ever again.

Slowly, though, I began to miss the band.I missed the camaraderie and the sheer cool-ness of it all, of being The Girl in the Band.It was like being a part of a secret society. Avery whiney, frustrating secret society. ButI’m a writer, really, not a musician. I like toappreciate drama from the outside. So Iturned to the movies.

Movies featuring girl rock bands are fewand far between. Like many all-girl bandsthemselves, these films are often overlookedand underrated. To find them requires a bit ofsearching or a lot of dumb luck. Once found,though, they are undoubtedly entertaining.How could they not be? Many all-girl bandsseem to stand perfectly on the tightropebetween power and disaster. The bands inthese movies are always on the verge ofsomething great, and are always dogged byeither their own internal calamity, or forcesbeyond their control willing them to fail. Thetension this creates will usually make for acompelling story.

To that end, I’ve selected six of the mostpoignant girl rock films that I’ve had theprivilege to lay my eyes on. Within these sixmovies, you’ll find teenage girl rockers andforty-something lady rockers, big budgetfilms and low, low, low budget films, girlswho rock and girls who dream of rocking,and, of course, lots and lots of drama.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains(Paramount 1982)

This film’s title is said to be a jab at the doc-umentary, Ladies and Gentlemen: TheRolling Stones, which is an accurate begin-

ning for a film chock full of raw, pissed-off, teen girl attitude. Ladies andGentlemen, the Fabulous Stains tells thestory of Corrine Burns (played by a fifteen-year-old Diane Lane) an orphaned teenagerwho we first see griping to TV news cam-eras about her desire for an adventurouslife that can not be found in boring smalltown America. Corrine’s band, The Stains,formed with a cousin and a mutual friend,has had only one practice when they luckinto a spot on a doomed cross-country tourfeaturing established punk band TheLooters. Fans of punk rock will want to seethis movie if only for the footage of TheLooters whose on-screen players includethe Sex Pistols’ Paul Cook and Steve Jones,as well as Paul Simonon of The Clash.

Corrine appears for her first gig wearingfishnet stockings, see-through clothing, andwith her hair dyed into black and whiteskunk-like stripes. When the Stains fail towow the crowd with their amateurish playingand general lack of confidence, Corrine takesit out on the crowd in a tirade, culminatingwith the statement that will become theStains motto: “We don’t put out!”

The Stains popularity explodes seeminglyovernight, egged on by the reports from localnews teams and the legions of young girlswho emulate Corrine’s hair, clothing, and atti-tude. As with many stories of meteoric rises tofame, the Stains are soon plagued by infight-ing, egos, and crooked management, all whichcontribute to their eventual downfall.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the FabulousStains is often heralded as a precursor towhat became the Riot Grrrl movement. TheStains’ attitudes, youth, and unconventionalfashion choices certainly call to mind theobstinate girls in babydoll dresses whoenjoyed a flash of media attention in theearly nineties. Feminists whose Riot Grrrlhangover has since worn off will likely notfind this film particularly feminist, due to thefact that, in spite of Corrine’s brave behavior,all the power lies with the men who consis-tently manipulate the Stains. In 1982, how-ever, the film was seem as so controversialthat it was never properly released after itsgutsy heroines made studio officials nervous.

Desperate TeenageLovedolls(Eclectic 1984)

Desperate Teenage Lovedolls falls into thecategory of the “so bad, it’s good” movie,which is likely why it’s often referred to as acult classic. Made for $250.00 on grainy,Super 8 film, this sixty-minute train wreck ofa movie tells the story of three teenage run-aways who form a band, rocket to stardom,and then, predictably, plummet into povertyand failure. Shot in Los Angeles, this moviefrantically tackles every stereotype of thesleazy music industry it can dredge up.

In the early stages of the film, lead singerKitty grows tired of her shrieking, intolerantmother and subsequently hits the streets ofHollywood as a runaway with her pal Bunny.They get high, steal guitars, and eventually,inexplicably, kill Kitty’s mom. From thatepisode stems this choice dialogue:

“Thanks for killing my mom.”“Hey, no problem.”Personally, I was taken by the fact that the

Lovedolls have a rival girl band called theShe Devils, led by the pouty and brilliantlynamed Tanya Hearst. The She Devils arenever actually shown playing any instru-ments, but they do get to participate in a cou-ple of the movie’s many murders.

My own band, truth be told, had a rival all-girl band. They were a bunch of bad-ass ladypunks, complete with a guitarist who drovearound wasted in her convertible Miata, and abassist who made late-night threateningphone calls to our own bassist about a varietyof issues. (The rival band subplot inDesperate Teenage Lovedolls doesn’t reallyreach its full potential, so for that you mayhave to watch some old Jem and theHolograms cartoons to see the Hologramstangle with their perfectly evil rival all-girlband named—I’m not kidding—The Misfits).

Desperate Teenage Lovedolls is moreabout spectacle than entertainment orempowerment. It plunges into tedium at sev-eral points and its jumpy plot and horrid act-ing are only amusing for so long. The movierolls out stereotype after stereotype untilviewers are forced to see its ridiculousness aspart of its charm. This is worth seeing only

The power of the all-female bandalways seems to go hand in hand with potential disaster.

for its cult status, unless grainy, choppy, per-plexing movies are your kind of thing. Thefilm did eventually enjoy a sequel titledLovedoll Superstars, which I haven’t beenable to get a hold of. Judging from the trail-er that follows my copy of DesperateTeenage Lovedolls, however, it looks like theviewer is in for more of the same.

All Over Me(Image Entertainment 1997)

While this movie doesn’t chronicle the upsand downs of a specific girl band, it so bril-liantly depicts the musical awakening of itsmain character, it had to make the list. AllOver Me serves as a kind of a prologue tothe other movies on my list, and Claude, theprotagonist, embodies all the wide-eyedwonder that comes with the first realizationthat girls can play music! Together! Whileother girls watch!

Claude is an almost-out-of-the-closetrock’n’roll lesbian teenager. Through mostof the movie she looks profoundly uncom-fortable in her own skin. Her only solacecomes from music (posters of Patti Smithand Helium adorn her bedroom walls) andfrom a one-sided love affair with her cluelessbest friend, Ellen. Things go rapidly down-hill when Ellen finds herself in an abusiverelationship with a guy who is likely respon-sible for the murder of a neighborhood gayman. The murder throws Claude’s life into amore urgent state of turmoil.

All Over Me cleverly uses Claude’s musi-cal awakening as a parallel for her sexualawakening. When she arrives at bar crowdedwith rock’n’roll lesbians she is stunned bythe all-girl band on the stage. The bandincludes the magnetic real-life musiciansMary Timony from Helium, and the pinkhaired Leisha Hailey (who now plays amuch-less-attractive character on the populartelevision drama The L Word) from The

Murmurs. Claude’s reaction to the music andthe girls playing it makes for a real hold-your-breath movie moment. The audiencecan practically see the light bulb illuminateabove her head.

After her trip to the bar, Claude’s lifebegins to take a positive turn. She is able—after one quick, Patti-Smith-induced emo-tional meltdown—to ditch her no-good, boy-obsessed best friend in favor of a potentiallyhot love affair with Hailey’s character. In oneof the movie’s final scenes we see Claudeand her pink haired, guitar-wielding lovergirl playing guitars and making out in herbedroom. Music, namely music made by theladies, is Claude’s redemption and the audi-ence can only hope that Claude’s ambitionsof starting her own band come to fruitionafter the credits roll.

Josie and the Pussycats(Universal 2001)

This live-action interpretation of the girlgroup from Archie comics would be placedfirmly in my “guilty pleasure” category if itweren’t so damn good. Easy to dismissbecause of its cheesy mainstream market-ing, the film actually manages to make astatement about popular music, productplacement, and mindless trend following. Itis also extremely funny, with flawless par-odies of everything from boy bands (theopening sequence features a performanceby the well-named band, Du Jour) to MTV.

Josie and the Pussycats tells the story ofthe fast and dirty rise to fame of the grrrlythree piece and, once again, we see egosget in the way of friendship and, sigh,musical integrity. Only this time the ego isactually the result of subliminal messagesplaced in the band’s recordings by theirevil manager (played with absolute comicbrilliance by Alan Cumming). Of course,the Pussycats triumph over the major labeladversity and Josie even gets to have an

onstage snog-fest with her hot indie rockboy, Alan M.

While the Pussycats’ comic book originsseem to have given the filmmakers a licensefor complete hyperbole, they haven’t takentheir responsibilities lightly. All threePussycat actresses (Rachel Leigh Cook, TaraReid, and Rosario Dawson) were sent to“band camp” for two weeks prior to filming.Once there, they not only helped to recordthe film’s soundtrack, but also had profes-sional musicians teaching them how to playtheir characters’ instruments. It is highly sat-isfying to watch a movie where the musi-cians’ fingers are actually following thechord progressions of the song the audienceis hearing.

The film’s soundtrack of pop punk gems(written and recorded by an army of profes-sional musicians that included the Go-Go’sJane Weidlin and Canadian lady rocker BifNaked) is more than just background musicfor the characters’ lives. The songs are heardin their entirety at many points throughoutthe film, which makes the film exciting forany music-loving audience member.

This is, essentially, a film about the vapidpop music industry caring more about salesthan it does about music. The film makes itspoint, but by the end of the movie the “paro-dy” product placements (french fry shapedsponges in your MacDonald’s bathroom,anyone?) becomes slightly nauseating. Still,if you have a niece, or little sister, or daugh-ter who thinks Avril Lavigne rules, thiswould be the perfect movie to watch withher. The songs in the movie are a non-threat-ening introduction to girl punk and themovie’s overall message is a great jumpingoff point for any little girl with a burgeoninginterest in media literacy. After you watchthe movie you can have a discussion aboutevil corporations, and then buy her anUnlovables CD.

Great music, hair pulling, arguments about tampons, sleazy rock boys, drunken parties, and a little bit of death.

Down and Out with the Dolls (Hart Sharp Video 2001)

Down and Out With the Dolls chronicles therise and fall of an all-girl group in that Meccaof girl groups: Portland, Oregon. It haseverything a good girl-band movie shouldhave: great music, hair pulling, argumentsabout tampons, sleazy rock boys, drunkenparties, and a little bit of death.

The Paper Dolls are the musical project ofthe heart-breakingly dorky Kali who has bigdreams for her little band. Kali isn’t pre-pared, however, for the thoughtless antics ofher primadonna lead singer Fauna, who per-sonifies every possible bad quality that leadsingers are known to possess. As The Dolls’popularity increases, their relationship witheach other falls apart (are you tired of this

plotline yet?) and their band eventually self-destructs. I went to see this film in the theatrewith the member of my own band whom Ihad the most volatile relationship with andwe cringed at the point in the film where theband mates chose to move into a housetogether. Is this ever a good idea? It mayhave worked for the Partridge Family, but itspells certain disaster for The Paper Dolls.

This film is like an underground version ofJosie and the Pussycats. The actresses areactual musicians themselves, so the songsand the performances are remarkably authen-tic. The characters and events of the movieare exaggerated enough to be entertaining,but realistic enough inspire empatheticgroans from the audience. Both its hyperboleand its realism add to the film’s pervasivehumor; the audience is either laughing at the

insanity of the plot or the understandablefolly of the characters.

According to one of the film’s actresses,Canadian hip hop sensation Kinnie Starr, thefilm was originally slated for wide release inthe fall of 2002. I talked to Starr after one ofher concerts just days after I saw Down andOut with the Dolls at a small queer film fes-tival here in Ottawa. She was happy to gointo detail about what went wrong, distribu-tion-wise. According to Starr, the problemlay with the all-male band in the film, theunfortunately named Suicide Bombers.Because of that band’s name Down and Outwith the Dolls was dropped by its distribu-tion company, just after the incidents ofSeptember 11th. At that time, no one wantedto distribute a film that even mentioned theconcept of suicide bombing, so Down and

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Out with the Dolls never truly saw the lightof day (uh, no reference to the JoanJett/Michael J. Fox film intended.)

On an unrelated but interesting note:Motörhead fans will want to watch thismovie just to see the one and only Lemmyplaying the mysterious and unintelligibleman who lives in Fauna’s bedroom closet.

Prey for Rock ‘n Roll(Lions Gate 2003)

Prey for Rock’n Roll is the work of punkrock writer/tattoo artist Cheri Lovedog, whohas achieved remarkable success writingabout how unsuccessful her music career hasbeen. The movie’s script draws onLovedog’s years of frustrating experiences asthe leader of girl punk bands in Hollywood.Lovedog’s story was first brought to life as amusical, which had a triumphant run atCBGBs in New York. Prey for Rock ‘n Rollwas then adapted into a powerful film star-ring Gina Gershon as Jacki, the growly bandleader turning forty and feeling low abouther lack of a recording contract. Gershontook guitar lessons from Joan Jett to preparefor the role, and this lends to the authenticityof her performance.

The movie establishes immediate punkrock cred as Jacki quickly details her ownlife story. As a teen, Jacki tells us, she ranaway to Hollywood with dreams of becom-ing a rock star. She fell in love with punkrock, her narration explains, when she saw Xperform in L.A. X is conjured up again laterin the movie when Jacki’s band, Clamdandy(yes, this is a terrible name) scores a gigopening for the legendary punks. It is this gigthat has the potential to propel the band tostardom, but, sadly, the recording contractoffered to them is less than dreamy. Whilethe band’s shot at stardom is unraveling,their lives take a turn for the worse whentheir drummer is raped. Jacki manages toexact revenge on the rapist and then risefrom the proverbial ashes of yet another dis-aster after a different band member is killedin a car accident.

This movie succeeds for so many reasons.It manages to marry some universal themesof girl rock—sexism, friendship, and powerstruggles—with a totally original and com-pelling story. The film touches on women’sfeelings of powerlessness and holds up rock-’n’roll as a way of combating that lack ofpower. The refusal of the music industry totake women seriously is exposed as just

another link in the chain of society’s generaldisrespect for women. It is refreshing to seea movie about a rock ladies pushing fortyand also exciting to see a plot that forgoes the“quick rise to fame” formula. In this film it isthe band members’ personal relationshipsthat are successful, not their music careers.This is a much more realistic direction, and itis one that creates the necessity of well-drawn characters and a superbly constructedoriginal story.

Epilogue

At a Monday night practice towards the endof my band’s dubious career, we workedtogether to write a song called“Flamethrower.” The song sprang from therealization that we were having that particu-lar band practice on the anniversary of thenight one of us had been brutally attacked bya stranger, almost ten years earlier. Thebridge of the song had me yelling,“Disappear!” and after a few tries we decid-ed that we would all yell the word together inunison. It was the only time in the band’s his-tory where we all used our voices at once. Iloved hearing us all scream in unison. Eventhough it came towards the end, it was one ofthe best things about being in the band.Yelling together with other girls during asong about our own experiences gave ourband the perfect blend of power, pain, hope,and aggression.

It is all of those elements that make filmsabout all-girl bands so compelling. Not tomention the fact that most of these films, likethe bands they chronicle, are only exposed tothe limelight for a brief period of time beforeplagued by bad luck or disaster. The power ofthe all-female band always seems to go handin hand with potential disaster. Walking theline between power and disaster is painfuland freaky when you have to do it yourself,but watching characters in a movie do thesame thing in undoubtedly entertaining.

Jennifer Whiteford’s first novel Grrrlfeatures many all-girl bands and will bepublished by Gorsky Press in the fall.

Where to find the films:

Ladies and Gentlemen, theFabulous Stains on DVD is almostalways up for auction on Ebay.Otherwise, it can be hard to find.

Desperate Teenage Lovedolls DVDis also often available through Ebay,but can also be ordered online fromwww.wegotpowerfilms.com.

All Over Me is available on DVDfrom www.tlavideo.com.

Josie and the Pussycats should befor rent at your local video storeand is available on DVD just aboutanywhere on the internet.

Down and Out with the Dolls DVDavailable from Madman Cinemawww.madmancinema.com.au.

Prey for Rock ‘n Roll is stocked inmany fine video stores and isavailable on DVD from your choiceof internet store.

Soundtrack albums are also avail-able for all movies except forLadies and Gentlemen, theFabulous Stains.

Some other suggestions for loversof girl bands and the movies thatportray them…

Satisfaction 1988 (criticallypanned movie about all girl bandstarring Justine Bateman andJulia Roberts)

Serial Mom 1994 (features L7 asthe all-girl band Camel Toe)

Girl 1998 (starring the Pussycatdrummer Tara Reid as a rebelliousteenage lesbian rock’n’roller)

The Go-Go’s: Live in Central Park2001 (everyone’s favourite all-girlband, LIVE!)

Edgeplay 2004 (a very well-reviewed documentary about The Runaways)

Megan: Davey, you once said, “Quit thinking about it in terms of ascene. It’s all personal to me.”Davey: I did?Paddy: Yeah.Megan: So, if there is no scene, then how is this even able to happen?Davey: We’ve got boners and buttholes, and that’s how it happened. Butseriously, I don’t know. I don’t know what kind of shit I must’ve beensaying then. When the fuck did I say something like that? I must’ve beenin Dubuque or something.Paddy: I’ve been traveling around for a long time. And Davey’s beentraveling around for a long time. Mike, he’s still kind of green, but he’sbeen traveling around a lot.Davey: He travels a lot.Paddy: Ben’s been traveling around for a long time. He’s met mother-fuckers I ain’t even met. And vice versa. I think this band is beautifulbecause I’m fucking wasted and I’m here to tell you that it was fourfuck-ups that found each other and we made some bullshit. And weknow it’s bullshit. But this is bullshit. This band is bullshit.Ben: It’s our excuse to get drunk for a week.Paddy: Goddamn, this is gonna be the best bullshit you’re gonna seeall month.Davey: The weirdest fucking thing is I’ve known Paddy for about tenyears, right? Maybe since ’95? Ben was in the first band that ever stayedat my house, this band Whirleybird…Paddy: You were in band called Whirleybird?!Davey: Yeah, they played our bar. Andy who owned the bar is comingto the show tonight.Ben: Oh, really?Paddy: Whirleybird?Davey: I mean, I never talked to Ben more than once or twice after that. Butthen Mike, I’ve known Mike since he was fucking twelve years old. I wasreally into little kids back then.Mike: You took me on tour when I was fifteen years old.Davey: Yeah, we took Mikey on his first tour and corrupted him, I hope. So,it was weird, we’ve all kind of known each other for a long time in one sense.

Paddy: It actually formed at the TripleRock (a bar that Erik of Dillinger Fourand his wife Gretchen own) becauseSnakepit was in town and the Observerswere playing at the Triple Rock and we allgot shitfaced. We were all sitting aroundtalking about dumb shit like dumb, fat,drunk bastards do.Davey: And then I came up.Paddy: We were like, “Hey, we’re talkingabout dumb, drunk, fat people. Hey, doyou know Davey?” ‘Cause this is like amafia and he’s the godfather. We calledhim and were like, “We gotta do a band.”“Okay, but this band’s gonna suck.”“Okay, let’s do a sucky band.” “Suckybands gotta go all over the country.”“Alright let’s all do it.”Davey: This is like the fourth phone callI’d gotten from him in two months. Everytime somebody goes to the Triple Rock

and hangs out with him. He fuckin’ ends up calling me to form a bandor something.Paddy: Well yeah! Because Tiltwheel… man everybody’s coming to meand telling me Dillinger Four doesn’t tour. Tiltwheel’s like the goddamnfucking pyramids, man. I mean goddamn. We’re like the fuckin’ Wham!to your Led Zeppelin, man.Davey: I see Mike more now since he moved away then when I didwhen he lived here.Paddy: That’s because he’s sixteen and he’s traveling all the time on afucking train. He rides his dirt bike from Portland to fucking San Diego.Mike’s riding on his fucking newspaper route.Ben: Bloodbath and Beyond!Megan: How do you make Champipple?Paddy: Well it kind of depends on where you’re from.Megan: I was going to ask if there were regional variations, too.Paddy: There should be. Champipple is what Redd Fox drank and itwas a mixture of really cheap wine and really cheap champagne. Theidea was that all day he would film Sanford and Son in Los Angeles anddrink this weird thing out of a coffee cup. But then he was doing everynight in Las Vegas. He’d fly out to Vegas and come back the next dayand do Sanford and Son all day. But the thing is, he would add weird shitevery day to make it flavored differently. So, the idea is that as long asyou start with Andre strawberry and Boone’s Farm, any sort of flavoryou want, or Mad Dog, or preferably both. Then you add whatever youcan to make it regional. So, in Minneapolis, it’s Bourbon, Sparks, andPilsner. Apparently here it’s—what is it Davey? Slimfast?Megan: Awwww.Mike: It’s Slimfast, horchata...Paddy: No, that’s what Davey told me. I didn’t make it—I’m fat!Davey: Here we were thinking Mariachi salsa, you know you got yourbases, your foundation. Then you add the adobe fuckin’ housing on top.You’ve got salsa—that’s the only really non-alcoholic ingredientbesides your Mexican lead-filled candy.Paddy: Yeah, that’s good, the sour apple.Davey: Yeah, the sour apple shit is really nice.

When the word “supergroup” is mentioned, I tend to think of people coming together toexpress something artistically that they haven’t been able to in their other bands. When I thinkof Bloodbath and Beyond, a few other things come to mind. Like drink, drank, drunk. A bandborn out of a drunken idea. None of the four members living under a thousand miles from thenext. With members of Dillinger Four, Tiltwheel, The Observers, J. Church, Cleveland BoundDeath Sentence, and Assisted Living Dracula, they fit the line-up of a super group. But whatare they? When I asked them what they sound like (one of the worst questions to ever ask any-body without the intention of good fun) Mike said, “You’re evil;” Ben: “ A big ol’ pile of bull-shit;” Davey: “A dumptruck being run over by a cheese grater mixed inside a burrito so thesound is a bit muffled and then dogs barking ‘til you shove pens up the urethras and likeM&Ms with peanuts;” but Paddy may have summed it up best in one word: “fart.”

The original plan was that they would meet up at Ben’s house in Austin, TX, hang outfor a week, play two shows, and record. They met up, ate pounds of meat, drank gallonsof alcohol, played the shows, but the recording equipment didn’t work. Does a band likeBloodbath And Beyond throw in the towel and say it was good while it lasted? No, theystart planning to meet up in a few months in Escondido, CA, home to Davey Tiltwheel torecord again. Bad for their livers, but good for me. These are some of the best guys I knowand this gave me ample time to see them, interview them, eat some burritos, and stillmake it to the 6am bar.

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Mike: Crazy mix!Davey: And then we put some of that salty Tamarind fuckin’ shit withthe duck on it, some of that stuff. We put whiskey, a little vodka.Mike: Japanese gin.Davey: Yeah, that we got from No People.Paddy: The Japanese gin makes you talk weird.Megan: How?Davey: Like this [pulling his eyes slanting back] Shit all fucked up!That’s your joke. It’s Paddy’s joke, not mine.Megan: Good one.Paddy: How’s that a good one?Ahoya hoy!Davey: We’ve been thinking aboutmaking a California martini. We figureit’s like gin and Colt 45 with a rolledtaco stickin’ out of it. But I think arolled taco might work in Champipplepretty good.Paddy: That would work for a Chicago‘Pipple, too. If there was a band fromChicago that was worthy of making‘Pipple. I mean, no offense, but like… Imean there’s bands I love from Chicago,but the Arrivals are too busy drinking forfree at their neighborhood bars. Theydon’t have time to make Champipple.Davey: They’re too busy making breadand all this crap.

Paddy: Exactly, we’re makin’ trouble.[Seeing three crust punks pushing a shoppingcart down the street] Man, those guys don’teven know, where the fuck are they going?Man, all these motherfuckers got patches ontheir back. The shows over here!Mike: Dumpster show! Dumpster show!Paddy: Can I just say that homeless just doesnot impress me anymore? I’ve had enough ofthis shit. For real, goddamn, I’ve paid twenty-seven dollars a month rent on a place, and you’regonna push a shopping cart around you dumbassmotherfucker? You’re an asshole and you don’tknow anybody that likes you enough to rent youtheir fucking laundry room for a dollar a month.You’re walking away from the show! Davey: I think without crust pants, I think fuckin’punks would have holes in their clothes.

Paddy: I’ve got some right here.Megan: Do you know how to play the Uliean pipes?Davey: Uliean, (Ill-e-an) like that matters.Megan: What is it?Davey: It’s these stupid Irish pipes. It’s kind of like bagpipes. Youhave the reed up here and a little pad you wear, but I don’t have a pad,so I just put it on my fuckin’ leg and let the fat stop it.

Ben: guitar and vocalsDavey: guitar and vocalsMike: drumsPaddy: bass and vocals

Interview and photosby Megan Pants

So we sit in front of a mirror So we sit in front of a mirror So we sit in front of a mirror So we sit in front of a mirror and eat fuckin’ burritos, naked, and eat fuckin’ burritos, naked, and eat fuckin’ burritos, naked, and eat fuckin’ burritos, naked, and we drink.

So we sit in front of a mirror and eat fuckin’ burritos, naked,

Paddy: Man, can we just cut to the chase? If you were strung out infuckin’ New Zealand and you needed to buy like seventeen pairs of AirJordans from 1984 in New Zealand right now, just fucking text messagefucking Davey. He’ll figure a way you can buy all those shoes for likea dollar. Tomorrow. He knows a guy who’ll show up at the bar.Seriously, I need every Dungeon Master’s guide module one througheight tomorrow for a dollar. And that dude’ll show up and he’ll be like,“Oh I fuckin’ met Davey when he was playing bass for Discharge inlike Eighteen Hundred and Seventy-Four.” Davey can get you tacos inSouth America.Paddy and Davey: They don’t have tacos in South America.Paddy: We just globetrotter on that shit!Davey: I had to show a lady in Mexico how to make a burrito.Megan: They’ve gotta have someone making ‘em for the white folks.Davey: They don’t have burritos in fuckin’ Baja, California.Paddy: They’ve got white babies for twelve dollars in fucking Paolo Alto.Mike: That’s in California, man.Paddy: Not the original. I just made that up.Davey: Not the original!Megan: You’re all in bands that have pretty serious lyrics. Bloodbathdoesn’t have the most serious lyrics.Mike: Most of it’s heartfelt, though.Paddy: Actually, we’re very serious.Davey: Fuckin’ totally serious. So fuckin’ serious, people are gonnastart to…Megan: I think what Paddy said earlier was, “It’s not even about stuff.”Paddy: It’s not about stuff, it’s about things.Megan: Is it any different than writing songs for your other bands?Davey: Here’s the deal. We’re all really sober, straightedged individu-als normally. Then we get together, and it’s like, “Well, what’s the one

thing that hasn’t been touched?” You’ve got the eyelinerpunks, and the guys that practice their jumps and shit. Sowe sit in front of a mirror and eat fuckin’ burritos, nakedand we drink. “Am I doing it right?” [Takes a swig with hismouth shut, beer pours over the front of his shirt.] Oh god. Imean we practice that shit. It’s a concerted effort. You put fourgreat minds thinking alike… wait, we’re talking about us, aren’twe? I think the amalgamation of the parts…Paddy: Amalgamation?Mike: Isn’t that word out of a Mike Farley song?Davey: It’s from a Propaghandi song, you mother…Paddy: This is point to this band: anybody can play any fuckingthing and we’ll show up and play that shit. Free. You could be afucking bro from Salt Lake City. If you write a good enough letter,if Ben reads it, and he thinks it sounds about right, we’re gonnashow up in Salt Lake City and play your bullshit. And this is fuck-ing why. ‘Cause music is fucking math and I passed that shit. Andwe’re gonna fucking win forever. All the time. Fart in mouth. Shitin my pants. Fucking seduction of the warlock. I’m telling you rightnow music is easy and we’re gonna prove it. This year. We’re playingall that shit.Ben: Music is easy. We’re gonna prove it.Paddy: It doesn’t matter. Led Zeppelin were a bunch of fuckin’ hacks.Bloodbath and Beyond!Megan: Paddy, how did you get involved in playing a 52.4 hour song?Paddy: Oh wow, you did some Google shit search or something.Davey: What’s .4 hours?Paddy: Uhhhh.Megan: Fifteen minutes. No, that’s be .25.Mike: Twenty-four minutes.

We’re gonna fuckin’ winWe’re gonna fuckin’ win

forevforev

Paddy: My friend, Mark Mallmen, he tried to go for the Guinness Bookof World Records to play the longest song of all time.Davey: And he failed miserably.Mike: No, he didn’t fail, he fuckin’ did it. I fuckin’ jammed with him.Davey: No, because Jim Planter has that fucking song. It’s been going fiveyears already. He wants it to go a thousand years, and that stuff sucked.Paddy: Yeah, but he still has to pee in Sunderland, c’mon man. He’s notplaying a song twenty-four hours a day.Megan: This was live; this wasn’t recorded.Davey: This was live? Who the fuck stuck around and watched you guysall the time?Paddy: I was fucking wasted and I played for two and a half hours. No,that’s a goddamn lie. I played for an hour and a half. Not two anda half hours.Davey: That’s good, I was worriedabout you.

Paddy: Mark Mallmen’s this dude from Minneapolis who’s totally out ofhis mind. He loves kissing girls, he loves eatin’ hotdogs, and he lovesgetting wasted. Then he asked me to play bass on his song that was gonnago on for 367 days. I told him I would do it if I could only play for a cou-ple hours. He said yeah. But then I went on a golf tournament that dayand I lost really bad, but I shotgunned Bud Lights all day. This is true.And I drank margaritas out of a bottle. Then I went and played with himfor a while. We jammed on some shit. That shit was tight. We’re doing asplit, actually, with Bloodbath and Beyond. The Bloodbath and Beyondside is two minutes long, but the Mark Mallmen side is three days.Megan: This is a seven inch, right?Paddy: It’s gonna be the biggest seven inch of all time. It’s a seven inch

in theory.Megan: Davey, what’s your opinion on recent legislation requiring tohave a passport to cross the Mexican border starting in 2007?Davey: Let’s not get into this shit. The last thing I need to do is getall political.Paddy: No, go get ‘em. Let me tell you something. I’m thinkingabout moving to San Diego just so that I can vote for Davey to bethe fucking king.Davey: If you move to Escondido you can vote for me. I’m gonnarun for city council.Paddy: Done and done.Davey: It’s really simple if you think about it. Just the U.S. andAsia are the only continents where you need a passport to trav-el to other countries that are bordering you in the entire world.I mean freedom… isn’t free. Freedom’s just another word fornothin’ left to lose. Except your mind. And when outlaws areoutlawed, only outlaws will be outlaws. Fuckin’ a, man. No,it’s terrible. I live in a border town. There is no problem withillegal immigration here. It’s not a problem.Paddy: I don’t know how you got in.Davey: Show me one fucking white guy who’s been denieda job here because some Mexican took it. Just show that tome, and I might start to think about it, but it ain’t gonnahappen. I don’t see fuckin’ Mexicans lining up to work atfuckin’ Starbucks or Alibi (San Diego bar) or some fancycracker’s—hey! [looks at Paddy because it’s a nicknamefor him]—thrift shop.Paddy: I didn’t apply for no job.Davey: My dad put it all in perspective for me a longtime ago. Because every Saturday or Sunday morningsomebody comes to the door at like seven in themorning. “Trabajo? Trabajo?” They want to work,clean windows, anything. And my dad says, “If awhite kid comes to the house and asks to mow ourlawn or trim our trees or anything just for a fewbucks to feed his family, then maybe I’ll startthinking that that’s a problem.” And I thoughtabout that, and was like, “Yeah, you’re right.”Paddy: I fuckin’ hate white people.Davey: We’re very racist against white people.Paddy: Seriously, as a band, we’ve talked aboutthis so much.Davey: Show me a white guy. Seriously, showme a white guy who doesn’t think he can dohis job better than the fuckin’ boss, and I’llgive you a dollar.Paddy: I’ll give you a member ofBloodbath and Beyond.Davey: I’ll give you fuckin’ Ben.Seriously, passports? C’mon, it’s just abunch of shit. You can’t buy beer with a fuck-ing passport in San Diego.

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everever

Paddy: You can’t buy beer in my bar in Minneapolis with a passport.Davey: You can’t go to a bar in San Diego.Paddy: I couldn’t buy beer in fucking Phoenix with my state ID fromMinnesota. I’m like 487 years old.Davey: In an airport. In a fucking airport. You know how many peoplein a fucking airport have fucking ID for the state they just flew into?Paddy: None.Davey: None of ‘em. Unless they’re like ex-pats or some shit like that.It just makes no sense. It’s pretty insane what’s going on out there. Forwhat? What are we protecting ourselves from?Paddy: The only protection I want is from the people who live around me.Davey: I want protection from the people who live around me. They justtowed fuckin’ Matty’s (Davey’s roommate) truck. I don’t have to worryabout fuckin’ ragheads, or whatever they’re calling them these days.Whatever racist shit they use. I have to worry about a cop who lives nextdoor to me. I want somebody todo something like that. Iwant my community tofucking back me up onthat. I’ve got this sign atthe front of my street:“Neighborhood watch.” Iwant my neighborhood towatch this asshole. Stringhim and his fuckin’ oldlady and burn ‘em. Parade‘em around like one ofthose fuckin’ Bush ragdolls in Iraq. Fuck.Paddy: See, this is why oursongs are about nothin’.Our songs are about howour country is the dumbestcountry I’ve ever been in mywhole fuckin’ life.Davey: It sucks.Paddy: We just got togetherand were like, “Fuck that.Let’s smoke a bunch of weedand get drunk as hell andmake fun of every fuckingthing.” Fuck ‘em ‘cause we’vegot that freedom that everyfucking conservative assholehas ever told us we’ve got.We’re gonna test that. I willsnort coke off the goddamnStatue of Liberty as long as Ican play at Bent Outta Shape’sfuckin’ warehouse space.Davey: They hate our freedom.You know what? I hate ourfreedom, too. It sucks.Paddy: Dude, you tell them we’re supposed to celebrate our freedom?Fuck yeah, this is what this band is all about. We’re gonna push that fuck-ing freedom, ‘cause I’m American. I was born into the fraternity, you god-damn assholes. I’m gonna fuckin’ shoot heroin, and I don’t even want to,but I’m going to do it just ‘cause you tell me I’m free. Well goddamn, allright. Fuck Catholicism. I’m gonna shoot heroin and fart in your mouth.Megan: Paddy, you had a vomit contest in a laundrymat? Did you win?Paddy: I did win. I won that shit.Megan: How do you determine a winner?Paddy: Because I did it first. Slug from Atmosphere he got all rap on meand…

Ben: He got all rap?Paddy: He did, dude. He did. He was like, “Mr. Dibbs can throw up.”That’s his DJ “on point.” I was like, “Cool, I can do that.” And he was like,“Let’s do it right now.” We just went into the laundrymat and I threw up.Davey: Why’d you go into a laundrymat?Paddy: Because it was right there.Davey: You know what’s the weird thing? Punks can throw up. We don’thave much going for us, but we can throw the fuck up. Even if youhaven’t eaten in a week ‘cause you’re pushing a shopping cart around,you can still throw up. You can throw up dust from the fuckin’ dumpster.Paddy: I could throw up right now.Davey: Let’s do it.Paddy: You want to throw up right now?Davey: Let’s have a fuckin’ puking contest.

Paddy: All right.Megan: While they’re doingthat, Mike, what’s a devil-mon-key?Mike: I have no idea.Megan: I found this picture ofyou, as a pirate…[Gagging noises from outside ofthe van, laughing from inside.Paddy wins.]Megan: … and it says, “Mike‘Devil-Monkey’ Napkin.”Mike: That’s from a high schooldance, taken with my highschool sweetie in my sopho-more year or something. Thedude who painted the pirategarb and scenery over it is somedude I’ve never met, norremember talking to, who usedto post on the same punk rockmessage board as I. He madesimilar images of other board-posters and gave them similar-ly inane names. I have no ideawhy. The internet is magical.Megan: Davey, who did yousay this about: “I’d be will-ing to commit a non-violentcrime and get a jail term so Icould get close enough tofuck him in the ass with ashank made from a brokenbroomstick.”?Paddy: Oh shit.Davey: The president?Megan: Yeah.Mike: Or the Pope.

Ben: Yeah, or the pope.Paddy: You must’ve been mad as hell that night, man. Holy shit.Davey: A non-violent crime because I don’t want to go down for a longtime. I don’t want to hurt anybody to get to the king shit.Mike: You could steal some big shit.Davey: But I think I would probably say my neighbor right now.Paddy: Yeah, fuck your neighbors, man.Megan: What’s the most impressive word you know, Ben?Davey: [whispering] Amalgamation.Megan: I’m curious about your brocabulary.Ben: Brocabulary. The most impressive word I know would be… dude.That’s a loaded word.

Paddy: My favorite word from brocabulary is whipapilla. That means abig ass. A big fuckin’ juicy ass.Mike: Whipapilla? Never heard of it.Paddy: It’s solid, it’s juicy, it’s where the booty comes from.Megan: You also won an award for knowing a word, didn’t you?Ben: I knew the Klingon word for heaven, which is qui-tu. I was at a StarTrek convention when I was eleven or twelve and I won the trivia con-test because I knew that word. I went up to get up my prize—it’s this bigcrowd of people—I walk up to the podium and they hand me my prize,and it’s a Klingon dictionary. I say into the mic—I’m twelve and I feellike I’m the fuckin’ shit—and I’m like, “I obviously don’t need this.” Allthe nerds laugh. I just thought I was the fucking shit, dude.Megan: …at the Star Trek convention.Ben: Yeah, dude.Paddy: Do you still have it?Ben: I didn’t need it.Paddy: We need to write a song in Klingon. We’ve already conqueredthe earth. We need to reach out to special planets.Megan: Mike, what’s it like to see the Spice Girls in concert?Paddy: Whoa.Mike: Wow.

Davey: Did you do it?Mike: Yeah, it was during their prime. It was awesome

because the Spice Girls are awesome, but alsobecause as a frequent attendee of tiny punk rock

shows it was totally bizarre and entertaining tobe in the exact opposite setting for live

music.Paddy: Dude, Sporty’s the coolest.

Mike: It was back when any-thing you bought could have

the Spice Girls on it. Youcould buy any prod-

uct with the SpiceGirls.

D a v e y :Ye a h ,w h e nw e

went toJapan. The

99 Cent Storethat we all went

to had Spice Girlshats. So, I bought

them all for the Japaneseguys. You know, because

you have to bring a gift orsomething. So, I brought them

all Spice Girls hats. I thoughtthey’d be all, “Thank you. Thank

you.” And, instead, they… [takes of hishat looks at it strangely, and reluctantly

puts it back on his head] I’ve never seen aJapanese guy who you give a gift to question it.

Mike: It was cool. Me and my buddy Willy wentand saw them. We were fifteen.

Megan: You’re a big fan of pop in general though.Mike: Yeah, pop’s pretty cool. I think the Spice Girls

were the last mainstream pop that was any good. I do likepop in my punk, having been exposed to punk by bands like

Screeching Weasel and the like, but as far as mainstream popmusic is concerned, the Spice Girls were a rare exception. On the

whole, I think mainstream music is a sham and ought not to be support-ed.Paddy: I liked the Spice Girls. That “Spice Up Your Life” song? WhenI don’t have coffee and I wake up in the morning and there’s no coffee, Ilisten to that song and it fuckin’ works the same.Mike: Hey, how the fuck did you know I went to see the Spice Girls?Megan: I do my fucking research, dude.Mike: Do you know my buddy Willy?Megan: No.Davey: Did you see the Spice Girls with Willy?Paddy: Razorcake is fucking retarded like that. They’ll bring up shit.They’re about to ask me about fucking a dude in the truck stop in 1989.Megan: Yeah, but who doesn’t know about that?Paddy: Only the dude.Megan: Ben once said, “We all have routines that we follow every dayand spend most of our lives trying to break those routines, but usuallythey turn out to be new routines altogether.” So, what’s the routine ofBloodbath and Beyond?Ben: Drinkin’ and smokin’ weed and drinkin’ and smokin’ weed.Davey: He’s so Nikki Six. Mike: I don’t even smoke weed and that’s how it works with me.Paddy: And listen to Hickey.

trouble.Exactly. We’re makin’We’re makin’

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400 BLOWS: Angel’s Trumpetsand Devil’s Trombones: CDNew hard tightness from this LA bandwho also puts on some of the best showsI’ve seen lately. I’ve described thembefore as Black Flag Sabbath: heavy,heavy dark riffs, math beats, some fuzzthrough big amps—although no bassguitar—and higher vocals swimmingover it all. Catchy quickness sharingtime with moody sludge. Awesome. TheBlows could appeal to metalheads butit’s also too confusing calculus (a laRuins from Japan) for hessians. They’veplayed with varied bands as The Fuse!,High On Fire, Fleshies, and The Locust.All makes sense to me. –SpeedwayRandy (GSL)

7 SHOT SCREAMERS: Keep the Flame Alive: CDProduced—horribly—by Levi Dexter,the immense sonic shrimpiness of thesewould-be punk/glam-informed rocka-billy brigands is not at all helped by thefact that there’s a chord progression in“Kickin Myself” that sounds like it waslifted directly from “Jumping SomeoneElse’s Train” by The Cure—though thisrecording is so thin and ball-less it actu-ally makes The Cure sound like a bunchof hairy, obese bikers in chrome helmetswith spikes coming out of the top bycomparison. One might be given pauseto wonder whether or not the instru-ments the band is depicted with on thecover are mere props, and if the bandactually recorded this disc with instru-ments constructed completely out ofSaltine crackers—but, on the brightside, if you’ve ever wondered what“Born Too Loose” would’ve soundedlike had the Dead Milkmen covered it,this might be as close as you need to getright here. Dudes: Levi’s got a cooljacket and all, but the next time youguys go into the studio, you mightwanna consider parking him down at thepub early on. Geez, i hope he at leastkept his shirt on. BEST SONG: “BornToo Loose,” duh. BEST SONG TITLE:“TV,” although it is not the Rose Tattoosong of the same name FANTASTICAMAZING TRIVIA FACT: I met LeviDexter. –Rev. Nørb (Haunted Town)

A FRAMES, THE: Black Forest: CDThink of the Fall as a coin. If a band likethe Country Teasers represents thefunny, ironic side of the Fall, then the AFrames would be the dark, edgy, sar-donic side. For a three-piece, the AFrames are amazingly tight; there’s aconstant push-and-pull going on, withnone of the instruments really takingcenter stage. I don’t really pay attentionto trends in music, but it seems likebands that draw from late ‘70s Britishpost-punk are getting a lot of hype thesedays, and I’d just like to say that the AFrames are too confrontational and non-commercial to be lumped in with all thatshit. As an album, it’s a bit spotty but

there’s some really great stuff on hereand it’s worth picking up. –Josh (SubPop)

ABI YOYOS: This World Is NotMy Home: 7” EPI have the feeling that someone in theAbi Yoyos really likes the Minutemenand Nomeansno and are channelingthem into the music without it bleedingdirectly into the notes. There’s a nice,anxious melody and approach that per-vades all of the songs. It’s a curious,not-quite-syncopated bounce and a wayto mesh quite a bit of experimentationand simultaneous approaches to a songwithout it sounding like chunks in musi-cal throwup. I got that feeling the firsttime I heard the Ergs! The surface is onething—they’re definitely a great firstlisten—but repeated listens are begin-ning to shower me with different-than-expected, hotter burning sparks. Apleasant surprise. –Todd (Abi Yoyos)

A-BOMB CHOP SHOP: Fromthe Coffin to the Rave: CD-RWe all know the staff of Razorcake doeswonders, aesthetically and otherwise,within the constraints of a budget—Iacknowledge this. However, it is at thisjuncture in time in which I wouldimplore, plead, and beg Sean and Toddto at least consider the possibility of tak-ing out health insurance policies on itsreviewers. Because I am fucking dyinghere. This is sickeningly bad psychobil-ly pabulum of the lowest order. Never agenre known for its lyrical brilliance,this is still incredibly, nearly majestical-ly stupid. In most cases, I would say,“Some lyrics or band information wouldhave been nice.” But not this time. Oh,and one more thing, Mr. Chop Shop, sir:if you’re going to put an $8.95 price tagon the front of your album, please makecertain the paper template you’vepressed onto the cover of your CD-Rdoesn’t show the lines from your laserprinter. Doesn’t look good at all, hoss. Ifyou’re gonna present something in aDIY but half-assed manner, I applaud

you, but please price accordingly. Ifyou’re gonna charge some sap ninebucks for a shitty six-song EP, makesure said EP doesn’t look like somethingmy drunk little brother did in Photoshopwhile he should have been out buyingme cigarettes. –Keith Rosson (A-BombChopShop)

ACTION SWINGERS: Self-titled: CDTrashy, sludgy gutter rock with big gui-tars and snarling vocals—what elsewould you expect from a band com-prised of members of Unsane, PussyGalore, Sonic Youth, and ChromeCranks? As evidenced on this reissue oftheir first album, these guys took thebest of ‘60s lo-fi, no wave, punk rock,and Stoogified rock’n’roll and justfucked ’em all up in the best of ways.This is definitely some mandatory lis-tening for your next garden party.–Jimmy Alvarado (Reptilian)

AGAINST ME!: Sink, Florida,Sink b/w UnsubstantiatedRumors: 7”For the fans: two alternate versions ofsongs from the Fat full-length. For thecollectors: the cover is a die-cut dement-ed piece of work. Imagine if you will:Gingerbread Man 1 appears to be hug-ging his counterpart, Gingerbread Man2. As you begin to open the cover to getat the music, you see that GM 1 hasactually punctured GM 2’s stomach andthat because of your meddling, his handis prematurely pulled back revealing thelarge wound. As you open the cover fur-ther, GM 1’s hand is released (you cansee the 7” at this point) and out of thegaping hole of GM 2’s stomach spewshis candy guts, all over the place in arainbow upheaval of epic piñata propor-tions. Fuck yeah. –Mr. Z (No Idea)

ALMIGHTY DO ME A FAVOR: Calibama b/wHoke’s Bluff: 7”One of my favorite memories in musiclast year was seeing the one-man-band

Almighty Do Me A Favor play in a gro-cery center parking lot, bashing awaywhile an upright citizen fed him a beermid-song. It was fun. Much better thanthe schwangled hipster fest that wasprancing by on the other side of theparking lot wall. What I wasn’t a hun-dred percent expecting was how goodBradley’d sound on vinyl. I mean, Iknew I’d like it, but part of the charm ofa one-man band is seeing all the limbsflailing, whacking all sorts of things,guitar strumming, harmonica honking,hootin’ and hollerin’. Almighty’s twosongs sound like they’re being played ina loved house that is burning all aroundhim and the only thing he can do is play.Playing somehow keeps the fire fromconsuming him. Both songs are, in turn,creaking and crackling; desperate andjoyful; all-beautiful in an entrancing,now-destructive, now-redemptive way.It’s like the flames are on the final vergeof no longer being controlled, of burn-ing so hot that the only memories theywill leave in their wake will be ash, sohe’s got to dig deep to extinguish it. Nota bad feeling to get from two songs. Ican see fans of Hasil Adkins and theBassholes cottoning to this real easily.–Todd (Kapow)

ALMIGHTY LUMBERJACKSOF DEATH: Always out ofControl, But Never out ofBeer: CDThe lyrics to “Where are We Now?”make me kinda wonder about wherethese guys are coming from, especiallyconsidering the “conservative” bent ofsome of their other lyrics. To wit: “Theliberals say ‘Equality,’ but equality is ajoke/Cuz they’ve got their hands aroundour necks and now we start to choke…The city hall is full of shit/and so are allthe schools/and now we’re waiting forthe day when once again we fuckin’rule/gave ’em welfare, gave ’em jobsand tried to educate/a century after wefreed the slaves all I see is hate.” I won’teven get into the blind rah-rah patrio-tism of “Soul of the Storm” or the hack-neyed odes to drinking and having towork that abound on this “complete col-lection.” The almost totally illegiblefont they used for the booklet didn’thelp matters much, either. Musicallythey ain’t all that bad as far as modernAmerican skinhead stuff goes (which Irealize ain’t saying much consideringtheir competition), but I don’t really seehow what they do is fundamentally anydifferent than your average moderncountry music concert, Fox newscast, orClear Channel-sponsored flag-wavingrally. Ultimately, the whole thing comesoff as a not-too-funny joke, which I’mpretty sure wasn’t their intention.–Jimmy Alvarado (Disconnected)

AMISH ARMADA: Give Up: CD Hard-rocking Christians are always ahoot. Few things jack the needle up onthe old laff-o-meter like constipatedreligious folk doing the Satan Rockthing. Remember Stryper? Sweet Jesus,what’s funnier than a bunch of born-again Christians wrapped in tight span-dex and playing hair metal? How aboutsome Amish gentlemen casting asidetheir hoes and butter-churners and pick-ing up electrical instruments to unleashan unholy sound that falls somewherebetween Jesus Lizard and Fear? This isthe Amish Armada’s second full lengthand I’m sure there will be those whowill describe them as an Amish Gwar;and while that comparison isn’t totally

Sadly, there is no stank tobe found on this release.

Hey Goober: Fullalbum art isrequired for

review.Pre releases gointo the trash.

-Josh Benke

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without merit, it’s a tad superficial. I heara myriad of influences here, everythingfrom Mr. Bungle and the Dead Kennedysto Merle Travis. And when you add tothat a crazed frontman with a mustache-less beard and a wide brim black hat whosounds like Lee Ving in his angrier days,you’ve got a wonderfully weird andpotent mix. There’s just something aboutthe notion of an Amish Lee Ving thatputs a little hike in my giddup. I neverimagined neo-Luddites could be thismuch fun. Eclectic, dastardly smart, andfunnier than an Amish circle jerk, theAmish Armada are a swift kick in thebritches and are worthy of much notori-ety. If I only knew the secret Amish ganghandshake, I would shake their handsheartily. Good stuff. Bring this disc toyour next quilting bee. –Aphid Peewit(Amish Armada)

ANTIGAMA: Discomfort: CDI asked the Missus to hit play on the CDplayer and initially thought the noise Iheard was a garbage truck emptying thedumpster behind our apartment—lots ofrumbling, some sort of industrial motorscreeching and chugging. But it wasThursday, and our trash gets picked upon Tuesday. The noise I heard was actu-ally the grinding, metallic sounds ofAntigama. This stuff is brutal: gruff, gut-tural, distorted vocals that sound as if thesinger’s vocal chords have been shred-ded with a weed whacker; mind-bog-gling time changes, starts and stops;frenzied drumming; violent, punishingriffage. Antigama go straight for yourinsides and rattle your core, sure to shakeloose the shit from even the most consti-pated bowels. I can almost get into itwhen they find a groove, like on“Bloodmaker” and “Who Is My Enemy,”but the rest of it is completely lost on me.Great if you’re into this kinda thing.–Josh Benke, Cultural Ambassador(SelfMadeGod)

ANTI-PASTI: The Last Call: CDThis is a reissue of this UK punk band’sfirst album, with requisite singles, livetracks, and alternate takes added on forgood measure. A bit of an anomaly onthe UK political punk scene at the time,Anti-Pasti played at a considerably slow-er pace and with less histrionics thanmany of their contemporaries, but theydid seethe with a righteous anger, andhad an uncanny knack for finding agroove in the simplest of riffs and milk-ing it for all it’s worth. The album itselfis quite good, but the real treat here arethe extras, which include the classic “NoGovernment” and “Six Guns” singlestracks and the live cuts recorded on the“Apocalypse” tour. –Jimmy Alvarado(Captain Oi)

ANTISEEN: Thee from Parts Unknown: 7”It’s heavy and simple. Gruff and mean.In other words, it’s a damn Antiseenrecord. Four blasts of rock’n’roll evil-ness here. No new ground covered, butthat would just be silly anyway. Whatyou see is what you get. Four scarydudes playing four scary tunes. I reallyliked the female vocal breakdown in thetitle track. This is the soundtrack to yournext backyard wrestling extravaganza!–Ty Stranglehold (Scarey)

A-SIDES, THE: Hello, Hello: CDGentle, lilting pop music which soundslike a throwback to the 1960s. It’s actu-ally a very pleasant surprise of BeachBoys-inflected, Pet Sounds-era sunshine

rock (which means that it comparesfavorably with contemporaries likeBeulah, the Pernice Brothers, theAluminum Group and other chamber-pop specialists). This album strikes meas one that will take some time to growon me, but don’t be surprised if you hearabout it again around the end of the yearwhen I do my “best of” list because itjust seems that there’s a little too muchhere to appreciate in the span of time thatmost critics (myself included, this time)have to evaluate an album’s merits. Markit eight, dude. –Puckett (Prison Jazz)

AT THE SPINE: First Day of Spring: CDI think what annoys me most about thisrecord is the plea on the back to supportindependent music and to avoid copyingthis record if you can help it. Dudes, youdon’t have to worry about that last bit—I like people and wouldn’t want to sub-ject them to this. As to the first point,fuck independent music. Support GOODmusic. This is everything but. I had real-ized over the years that there is simplyno end to the things I can’t do in music—I can’t play guitar, bass, drums, flute,saxophone, keyboards, tuba, bassoon…none of that shit. I can’t read or writemusic. I can’t even whistle in tune. Andsinging? You’re kidding, right? At anyrate, I thought I knew all of that until Iheard this and with the exception of acouple of pseudo-solos, I can play everygoddamned thing on this disc and do itbetter because I at least figured out howto play a Ramones song or two on everyinstrument over the years. I can’t sing,but at least I have the good sense not totry (meaning that, unlike this record,you’ll rarely hear me off-pitch) and toyell in something approximating thesame key. This? Fuck this. –Puckett(Global Seepaj)

BAKER STREET IRREGU-LARS, THE: Self-titled: CDDear Robert Daniel of Savannah,Georgia: I really like the first part of thisCD. To me, it sounds like a lower-fi,Southern version of Replacements. Theproblem, though, is that about halfwaythrough, the CD player starts freakingout and skipping, and I can’t even makeit to your version of “Mama Tried.” Irealize that it’s just a technological prob-lem and it’s nobody’s fault, but hopeful-ly we can find a way to blame BradleyWilliams for whatever went wrong. AndI was also wondering if your pseudonymwas an Andy Griffith Show reference orjust a coincidence. Thanks for listening.–Josh (Official UDC Headquarters)

BANG! BANG!: Electric Sex: CDEPA new band out of Chicago that is bring-ing back memories of ‘80s new wavewith a bass player that sings like TerryBozzio and music that has elements ofearly Devo and the Waitresses. Fun and awelcome change from all the death metaland thrash that I have been listening tolately. –Donofthedead (Morphius)

BARS: Introducing…: CDConsidering how many times I’ve point-ed out that merely listing bands that pro-vided members for a project is the cheap-est of a reviewer’s many cheap tricks, Ishouldn’t be surprised that—for once—itbit me in the ass. The Bars includesmembers of The Hope Conspiracy, GiveUp the Ghost, and the Suicide File, threeof my favorite hardcore and punk bandsof this decade to date, and it sounds likewhat you might expect from peoplesteeped in rock and roll and the more vis-

2. Career Suicide, Signals (Slasher)

Underground Medicine Mailorder, Conneticut

Damian of Fucked Up, who is a proud Pepsi enthusiast

Top 40 7”s

1. Reatards, Plastic Surgery (Shattered)

3. Catholic Boys, Actin’ Stupid (No Fuckin’ Chance)

5. Black Time, Beat of the Traps (Yakisana)

7. Nervous Patterns, Beautiful Brutal (Zaxxon Virile Action)

2. Observers, Walk Alone (Jonny Cat)

4. Tokyo Electron, Put a Charge in You (Shattered)

6. Nice Boys, You Won’t See Me Anymore (Discourage)

9. Tragicz, Television Slave (Hate)

10. Dissimilars, Jimmy’s Room (Out of Order)

1. Urban Blight, self-titled (Deranged)

3. So Be It, The Wrath of the Skies (Deathwish, Inc.)

5. Haymaker, Lost Tribes (Deranged)

7. Gorilla Angreb, self-titled (Feral Ward)8. Lion of Judah, Soul Power (Lockin’ Out)9. Clusterfuck, Midlife Crisis (Wintermute)

10. Restless Youth, State of Confusion (Painkiller)

8. DC Snipers/Shop Fronts, split (Your Permanent Records)

D i s g r u n t l e d M a i l o r d e r , C a l i f o r n i a

1. Dils, 198 Seconds of... (Dangerhouse)2. Functional Blackouts, Chemical Bath (Wrench)

3. Randoms, ABCD (Dangerhouse)4. Jeffrey Novak’s One Man Band, Stranded (Yakisana)

5. Real Losers/Illegal Movers, split (Ken Rock)6. Beat Beat Beat, self-titled (Douche Master)7. Earaches, Freedumb Fries (Steel Cage)

8. DC Sniper/Shop Fronts, split (Your Permanent Records)9. Dean Dirge, Chimpanzee (Ken Rock)

10. Black Time, Beat of the Traps (Yakisana)

These are the top 7”s since the last mag.

This is a recordplayer. It’s installedin the dashboardof a car. It’s likethe future!

6. Clorox Girls, The Dimension (Jonny Cat)

4. Observers, Walk Alone (Jonny Cat)

ceral side of hardcore (Black Flag andthe Funhouse-era Stooges are twobands that spring most immediately tomind, but there are a handful of groupswhich exhibited a similar level ofintensity and a similar approach torock‘n’roll damage and destruction).Simply put, this is a snarling, ferocious,steel-booted kick in the teeth—it’s farmore recidivist than most contempo-rary hardcore; instead of focusing onsmooth, polished riffs and more stan-dard modern hardcore production, itbristles with jagged edges, rock riffs,and menace. This is the Altamont tomodern hardcore’s Woodstock; as theBars rampage through these blisteringguitar-driven songs, it feels more like abats-and-chains street fight than anyrecent form of punk. To my way ofthinking, that makes this record evenmore enjoyable, precisely because itneither pulls punches nor takes theeasy, commercial way out. Perhapseven more importantly and impressive,even though Bars includes members ofa number of contemporary hardcorebands, it doesn’t really sound like anyof those bands—these musicians gottogether and created something differ-ent from what they had done in thepast. While I can’t call it new, it’s still avery welcome rabbit punch of rock-’n’roll. –Puckett (Equal Vision)

BENT OUTTA SHAPE: Stray Dog Town: LPDon’t get scared when I say Bent OuttaShape has matured from their tumbling12”EP and early 7”s. They’re notsinging about mortgages, elbowing intosweater vests, and ordering lattes inVolvos. But, this LP is a marked depar-ture from their delightfully rip-shodToys That Kill meets Horrible Odds

debuts. First and foremost, it remindsme of the Replacements. Not justgenerically Replacement-esque, but acelebration of almost their entire cata-log, cherry picked, distilled, and turnedinto a new form of DIY wine. Thesongwriting, although not as bombas-tic, and taking a couple of spins to letsettle in, is just as compelling whenthey go fast and when they cool theirheels. Megan Pants made the astuteremark when listening to this: “Itsounds old, like it came out awhileago.” And she’s right—old not mean-ing bad. Curiously, this has all the ear-marks of a landmark early ‘80s punkrecord without the distasteful smell ofburned-out rehash. Bent Outta Shapehave rediscovered a comfortable, excit-ing sound, one that I think got discard-ed before being fully explored. Whythe hell not revive the ghosts and pushthem further than they went before?Excellent stuff. –Todd (Recess / Tapes Records)

BLACK COUGAR SHOCKUNIT: Godzilla Tripwire: CDYou can tell me to shut the fuck upabout Panthro UK United 13 at anytime, but the fact is that I’ve put Soundof a Gun on consistently since 1998.Maybe I should just get over it. ButAlex’s voice and guitar are distinctiveas is Shane’s drumming, and when Ipop in House on Fire (whose debut EPruled) or Black Cougar Shock Unit, Ikeep reflecting back to PUKU 13 andcomparing and contrasting. And I’vecome to this conclusion: I don’t likehard rock noodling in my punk. WhenBlack Cougar Shock Unit blast fromthe gates, stomp holes in drywall, putthe cat in the oven, and piss in theneighbors’ ears while doing hand-clap-

ping push ups on the hoods of their vic-tims’ SUVs, I like them. When theystart playing originals that remindme—rightly or wrongly—of “WangDang Sweet Poontang,” I’m less thanenthralled. I just don’t like the wank-ing. I like it when they hit the after-burners. So, it’s a 50/50 proposition.–Todd (Newest Industry)

BLACK COUGAR SHOCKUNIT: Hello Black CougarShock Unit: CDEPI get the feeling this came out in kind ofa hurry. Four originals (one not listed)and three covers, with pretty minimalartwork and absolutely no informationsave for a lyric sheet. I have no ideawhere this band is from or what kind ofscene they’re in. I’m totally in the dark.Having said that, this is pretty good.It’s riffy, heavy rock that sounds likeit’s being made by ex-straightedgekids. Seriously, that’s what it soundslike to me. Or kinda like the JJ ParadisePlayer’s Club. The lyrics are real pissedoff (in two of the songs, the words “gofuck yourself” appear several times)and the artwork is just altered Sanriocharacters that must be one of theband’s inside jokes or something. I did-n’t like the slower-and-wimpier coverof Devo’s “Freedom of Choice” but Ireally liked the cover of Steve Martin’s“King Tut.” Hey guys, on the nextrecord just put a little bit of informa-tion, okay? Postscript: A few days afterI wrote this review, I got an email frommy old buddy Mick. He told me he’dmoved to Atlanta and joined a bandwith some ex-Panthro UK United 13dudes called Black Cougar Shock Unit.Oh. –Ben Snakepit (Newest Industry)

BLACK HALOS: Alive Without Control: CDIt took me awhile to “get” the BlackHalos. The lead singer, at first, soundsalmost like a cartoon character withlaryngitis. They definitely fit theJohnny Thunders, near-dead, spike-in-vein, blackened lips and eyes, pale-faced aesthetic. All fine and well, butthe fact that they released the underrat-ed and barely heralded magnum opus,The Violent Years, four years ago ratch-eted them up several notches. TheViolent Years sound like Thunders,except with compassion for a strug-gling culture beyond his own devices.Alive Without Control is excellent:catchy, swaggering, and confident, andalthough I like gems on it like “DarkestCorners,” I find myself reaching backand playing The Violent Years louderand louder. With that record, there justseems to be more lurking behind themall, like a feeling of being hunted. Whoknows? It took me a good year to fullyembrace the previous album. Maybeit’ll take some more time drinking withthis one to take full hold. I’m patient.–Todd (Liquor and Poker)

BLACK SUNDAY: Tronic Blanc: CDAnother side project of Alicja Trout,who has been involved with seeminglyhalf of the records to come out ofMemphis in the past five years. Hereshe’s playing almost all the instrumentsherself and doing a pretty damn goodjob. At times, it sounds kind of like theMouserocket album and at others, itsounds like a lo-fi Lost Sounds outtake.I can’t promise it’ll blow your mind—Imean, you can pretty much just read thefirst sentence of the review and decide

whether or not you need this—but shewrites good songs and has a good voiceand that’s about all you can ask for. Ifyou’re unfamiliar with her musicalefforts, a good primer is the Black Wavealbum that the Lost Sounds put out acouple years back and then this wouldbe your next logical step. –Josh(Dirtnap)

BLARE BITCH PROJECT:Double Distortion Burger: CDIn the vein of Los Angeles nightclubcock rock, this record delivers the goodsbut with only half the cocks. It’s high-octane rock’n’roll with heavy slather-ings of rawk, but one can still sense theghost of Gene Vincent lurking some-where behind all the power chords. Not,perhaps, one for the ages, but if recordsare like lovers, this is that wild girl youwent out with for two weeks and smileabout for the rest of your life. –The LordKveldulfr (Steel Cage)

BLASTOFFS, THE: Sin to Win: CDStripped down, no-frills punk’n’rollwith a crushing low end that makes mewant to break shit. At times it becomes abit dull and formulaic, but not that often,and some of these tunes knock me overlike a swift kick in the nutsack, but in agood way. –The Lord Kveldulfr (The Blastoffs)

BLOOD IN BLOOD OUT: Respect Our Loyalty: CDMusically, I love hardcore music. Youget the heavy guitar riffings of metaland the anger of punk. Lyrically, I find itamusing that there is so much posturingabout loyalty and such. Like it’s a self-esteem problem and you have to over-compensate to show that you belong.

You will most likely never find me at ahardcore show. From what I have seenin the past and seen on videos, I couldnot stand the crowd with all that machis-mo going around. In terms of musicthough, I’m pretty easy going. I usuallyfocus on the music. As long as it’s notracist, sexist, or lyrically remedial in thefourth grade sense, I can usually listen. Ilike to bang my head sometimes, so thisdoes appeal to me. With a great record-ing, the guitars are crunchy and the bassand drums are solid. Adding musician-ship, these chaps know how to play andwrite some mighty mean tunes.Everything I like in a band like Strife isrepresented here. Full of energy andrage. –Donofthedead (Spook City)

BLOOD, THE: False Gesturesfor a Devious Public: CDHaving only previously heard “SuchFun” on one of the oi compilations and“Stark Raving Normal” on anothercomp I forget the name of, the rest ofthis disc, a reissue of their album, was abit of a surprise. Although there’s quitea bit of metal in them geetars, there’s adefinite Peter and the Test Tube Babiesfeel to much of the tuneage here, a goodchunk of which thrashes along in wildabandon. The lyrics, for the most part,are either pointed potshots at the pope orof the cleverly dumb variety hell-benton offending as much of the populationas possible, an approach that is heartilyencouraged in these parts. The additionof assorted bonus tracks from singles,comps, and demos make this a niceoverview of the band’s career. –JimmyAlvarado (Captain Oi)

BLOWFLY: Fahrenheit 69: CDBlowfly, a contemporary of ‘70s X-rated comedians like Rudy Ray

“Dolemite” Moore, dishes up a bevy ofrap and soul flavored tracks addressingbooger-picking, sex, gay BlackRepublicans, ugly people, and “TheGreat Debate” (which is better: older oryounger pussy?), with the word “cunt”sprinkled liberally throughout andvignettes explaining what he will do toimprove the state of the country whenelected president. The results are a bit ofa mixed bag. When it works, like on “IBelieve My Dick Can Fly,” the resultsare pretty funny, but when it doesn’t, itsounds like he was just trying to comeup with enough material to reach thehalf-hour mark. –Jimmy Alvarado(Alternative Tentacles)

BLOWTOPS: Mad Monk Medication: 7” Two wild, fuzzed-the-fugg-out raversthat preen and pirouette on the fine linebetween noise, punk, and balls-out rock-’n’roll. The tune on the flip is a slow,twisted slab o’ psycho pop that decidesevery so often to whop you upside thehead with a noisy interlude. I’mimpressed. –Jimmy Alvarado (Big Neck)

BOMBSHELLS, THE: Self-titled: CDWhat better way to start a Saturdaymorning than with some punk rockrecord reviewin’ and tending to somepersonal hygiene? Kill two birds withone stone, or Bombshell, if you will.The first verse of “She’s Coming”sounds so much like the Problematics“Here We Come” that I started singing“And it happens all the ti-i-i-ime…”when it came time for the chorus whilelistening to this in the shower. I sham-pooed my hair and washed my face to “IWant You Mine” and “Oh Yeah,” work-

ing my way down to the armpits, crotch,and thighs without taking too muchnotice of the music: catchy, poppy,punky, in the same vein as SloppySeconds (from whom they ripped off anumber of guitar leads) and ForgottenRebels (from whom they pilfered theslowed-down, heartfelt intro to “I WantYou Mine” and nose-plugged-full-of-snot vocal delivery), sans the inspiredsong writing and stunted, juvenile sens-es of humor that made those bandsgreat. I began cleansing my anus as“One Track Mind” cued up. Not bad.Certainly my favorite song on the CD.The cruel twist is that my affinity for thesong and proximity of hand-to-rectumhave been intertwined, creating abizarre, Pavlovian response whereuponhearing it, I’m filled with a desperateurge to cram a few fingers into my ass-hole. Son of a bitch, I’m never shower-ing with these guys again. And, fellas, ifyer gonna call yerselves theBombshells, the least ya could do is puta smokin’ hot babe on the cover. ThatMiguel Hell ain’t so easy on the eyes.–Josh Benke, Cultural Ambassador (No Front Teeth)

BROKEN BONES: Time forAnger, Not Justice: CDAll right, I’ll admit it: I’m easily con-fused. But it’s taken me several orbitsaround our sun to realize that that’s a“good thing.” As human beings go, Iseem to be some sort of rough fish thatswims best in muddied waters wherethings are not clear and uncertainty pre-vails. So whereas your typical buttoned-up music critic might have his bloomersbunched around his ass regarding thisdisc—I am splashing about with stupidbullhead abandon. The rub of uncertain-ty, in the case of these Broken Bones

gents, is as follows: this is a band Iknow very little about, but it seems tome that they have been allied withWattie and the Exploited and have evenhad, at times, an ex-Exploited memberor two in their ranks. We all know thatWattie is, under a heat lamp, about asbright as a bag of horse boogers andrumors have continued to circulate thathe is a door-to-door salesman for aWhite Power organization called Blood& Honour. What does this have to dowith Broken Bones? Very little, I hope.It’s just that the way I’ve always heardit: Broken Bones, Exploited, andDischarge are/were like Siamese tripletsattached at the ass. That means whatflows through one, flows through theothers and that might very well includea gene for vicious canine stupidity. Atvery least, judging by the album art-work, they certainly share with Wattiean adolescent fixation with humanskulls. But maybe that’s about all theyshare. The lyrics of songs like “G8” and“Justify War” would seem to indicate,unless I’m missing out on some delicateBritish sarcasm, that these gents actual-ly fall somewhat left of center and there-fore, they would be unlikely to fosterany unorthodox sexual fetishes involv-ing Adolf Hitler’s smart little mustache.Bottom line is that this music makes meenvision shirtless goons with big hairyshoulders and too few teeth beating thedroppings out of a bunch of PromiseKeeper/Ken Jennings types in a darkalleyway. And music that makes methink happy thoughts like that alwayswarms the cockles of this old bullheadheart of mine. Bones and the boys serveup Wooly Mammoth slabs of metallichardcore similar in heft to that of theExploited but, thankfully, without theretard-o-centric trimmings of their bot-tom-feeding kinfolk. Ask Oprah: guilt-free hardcore is a beautiful thing.–Aphid Peewit (Dr. Strange)

BRUTAL KNIGHTS: Not Fun: 7” EPCanadian, punk-informed, hairy-voiced,Lemmy-lovin’ rock, matching the sensi-bilities and sounds of Minneapolis’sMidnight Evils. So, it’s not ironic. It’snot tedious. It’s not precious. They’vegot the good sense to shear off the solos,their songs are as sturdy as the buttonson a denim jacket, and they fly the punkand roll flag proudly. Not bad. Geeknote: They appropriated the VoltRecords label for the 45. –Todd(Deranged)

BUCKET FULL OF TEETH:IV: CDRubber gorillas fight fluttering birdieson the lip of a spitting volcano. A dwarfin chain mail stands by, grinding hisjaundiced teeth, and tosses ping pongballs into the crater where they inciner-ate in whispers, inches above the roilinglava. A dogcatcher pounds, intermittent-ly, on the dwarf’s dented helmet with abronzed horse dick, pausing now andthen to shift the weight of the brickstaped to the back of his sweater. Thealpha gorilla got gum in his hair. –CussBaxter (Level Plane)

CANDY SNATCHERS, THE:Ugly on the Outside: CDI start to sound like an annoying, skip-ping record whenever I speak of TheCandy Snatchers, so I’m gonna keep itto a minimum and only speak of the fewthings these nutjobs have done oh-so-well over the years. One, they continue

to make fantastic recordings, and two,when ripping it up live, they continue tomake believers of those who think thatrock and roll has gone off like an ailingcat to hide and die. These few things, bythe way, are the only things that trulymatter when being a band to begin with.Everything else is hot fucking air. Thissaid, the disc here is a Hungry Man®-sized portion of singles, tribute LP cuts,and the like from their past offerings.Surefire cuts that’ll result with some-one’s foot through the drywall at yournext house party are “You Want What,”“Picture My Face,” and the rip-roaringcover of Mr. David Bowie’s“Suffragette City.” Like their r’n’r col-leagues Motörhead, the Ramones,Throw Rag, or The Riverboat Gamblers,anything Candy Snatchers isn’t just ano-brainer, it’s essential. –DesignatedDale (Roulettes)

CAPITAL DEATH: Carbon: 7”In another review somewhere aroundhere I said that I couldn’t handle thatcrusty, growly grind stuff. I stand bythat, but this record brings up an inter-esting point (to me, anyways). How is itthat I do like crusty, screamy politicalhardcore stuff? Both are, for the mostpart, annoying and unintelligible, yet thelatter just seems more, you know,PUNK, I guess. At any rate, CapitalDeath play screamy, crust political punkthat will suit me just fine when themood strikes me. Somehow I knewthese guys were Canadian just by hear-ing them. Confirmation came well hid-den in the liner notes. Strange. –TyStranglehold (Punks Before Profits)

CAREER SUICIDE: Invisible Eyes: 12”I don’t know how Career Suicide keepsputting out records like this, but HOLYFUCKING SHIT am I glad they’rearound. Unlike many of the hardcorebands from the early ‘80s that they emu-late, who usually only managed one ortwo good albums, Career Suicide hasyet to let me down. And at this point,they’ve blown away their influences, tothe point where saying “radFreeze/Circle Jerks kinda stuff” doesn’tdo them justice. As a matter of fact, I’llgo ahead and say that if your taste inmusic ever veers towards the faster,more aggressive side of things, youneed this record. Christ, this is a com-plete smoker, through and through.–Josh (Feral Ward, www.feralward.com)

CASKET LIFE: The GoodTimes Are Killing Me: CDHeralded as a harbinger of the burgeon-ing (and long-suffering) Arizona punkscene, Casket Life is reminiscent ofFilth, Minor Threat, and Egg Hunt. Butdon’t call them emo. Or hardcore. Andthey’re too clean looking to be streetpunx. They’re just punks. And prettydarned good at it. It lacks some cohe-sion and I wasn’t totally glued to it, butheck, they’re young. It’ll develop. Notbad at all. –Jessica T(Stomping Ground)

CASUALTIES: En la Linea delFrente: CDWhy this sad sack of a group managesto survive, let alone enjoy any modicumof popularity, is bound to be the subjectof much future scientific research. Imean, c’mon kids, they are SUCH a pisspoor joke, more the embodiment ofevery lame punk stereotype the mediahas invented thus far than an actual

noteworthy band. Nothing, NOTHINGabout them is remotely creative, origi-nal, or interesting. Their music is ahackneyed, Nth-generation Xerox copyof what some middle-aged TV execthinks punk looks and sounds like and,ultimately, they are about as much asymbol of rebellion against the statusquo as Avril Lavigne or BackstreetBoys. They are the purveyors of zerostyle, zippo substance and, not beingsatisfied with making a mockery of theEnglish language, they have decided toprofane Spanish with their insipidattempts at songwriting. You’d get morefrom staring at television static than youwould listening to this. –JimmyAlvarado (Sideonedummy)

CATCH, THE: Get Cool: CDI sure have a soft spot for female vocalsthat are dreamy and pretty. The songs onthis caught me right away. A little newwave, power pop, and some pop punkmixed together to make their brand ofgarage music. Reminded me whatwould happen if you put togetherVeruca Salt, Elastica, the Go Go’s andthe Breeders and send them to the bub-blegum factory. Infectious.–Donofthedead (Made in Mexico)

CELEBRITY MURDERS: TheIsland of Man-Eating Rats:one-sided, four-song 7” EPDiscomforting New York-based hard-core that takes its cues of loathing, pes-simism, hatred (except of Mussolini,who’s thanked), from early AgnosticFront (barely tuneful, all energy’s in theattack, not putting on makeup) and earlySick Of It All (the shaved-down metalguitar, especially). It’s less tough guyand more miscreant/ bad attitude/ infect-ed boil/ stuck-behind-a-bad-driver-their-entire-lives, about-to-kill-the-next-fucker-who-doesn’t-use-their-turn-sig-nal vibe. Effective. Artie from theShemps is singing, but it sounds nothinglike the Shemps. –Todd (Chainsaw Safety)

CHARIOTS: Congratulations: CDEven with the keyboards this sounds tooscreamo for my liking. –Donofthedead(Troublemanunlimited)

CHIXDIGGIT!: Pink Razors: CDI believe we all go through phases inlife. I have been in the metal/thrashmode lately. But I’m not rigged. On thefirst track of this CD, I wrote this off asNOFX. But the second track, “IRemember You,” sucked me in. What agreat pop song! I can hear this one get-ting popular on alternative radio andmaking me feel sick because others arediscovering my dirty little secret. It’s asong that will live longer than the band,a song so perfect that it sticks in yourcranium for hours because it’s so catchy.I really don’t have to listen to the rest ofthe CD because I found a song that Iwill listen to for the rest of my lifetime.I have become a believer of their abili-ties to write a great melody. Anyonewho can put a smile on this old bitterguy’s face is a band you have to checkout if you want something more on thepop tip. –Donofthedead (Fat)

CHROME PISTOLA: Victimize Yourself: CDEPReminds me of those jerks that sang“The Bad Touch.” The singer’s(singers’?) delivery is flat (he/they rap

the first song) and he has a range ofabout five notes. Funky soul musicshould have attitude and be brought toyou with a heapin’ helpin’ of stank!Sadly, there is no stank to be found onthis release. –Josh Benke, CulturalAmbassador (Mindless)

COLTRANE MOTION: No Well OK Maybe Just a Little: CDEPFour “tracks” of fairly enjoyable, fairly“mellow” electronic “music” which, if ithasn’t “happened” already, I’m sure I’ll“appreciate” as the perfect “soundtrack”when I hear it on a “Volkswagen” “com-mercial.” –Cuss Baxter (datawaslost)

COMMANDANTES: Lieber fürDie Arbeiterhlasse: CDCommie street punk from Germany.Can’t say I’m all that hip to the commietrip, but I do respect ’em for taking aroad not often traveled in punklandia.–Jimmy Alvarado (Mad Butcher)

CONFLICT: There Is NoPower Without Control: CDWhile I’ll be the first to admit (beforemy homies call me on it) I’ve neverbeen much of a Conflict fan (basedmore on musical, rather than political,differences of opinion), I gotta say it’smighty fine hearing these guys making aracket again. One of England’s premieranarcho punk bands that has been per-plexingly lumped into the “street punk”ghetto for some reason in recent years,Conflict took the template laid out bycontemporaries like Crass (with whomthey shared a lead singer, although notat the same time), ratcheted up the inten-sity levels and tempos, and belchedforth angry sheets of noisy punk thatrailed against the government, animalabusers, war, and corporations poised totake over the world. Given the fact thatmany of the very things they wereattacking twenty years ago have, insome cases, become the norm, it willcome as no surprise that their latestalbum is chock full of musical assaultson that very same power structure.Musically, they are just as harsh as theyever were, but after more than a decadeof sugar-coated boy-pop preening andposturing as if it was somehow punk,their brand of sonic bludgeoning actual-ly comes off as fresh and invigorating.Good stuff. –Jimmy Alvarado (SOS)

CONVERGE: Petitioning theEmpty Sky: CDWhen Forever ComesCrashing: CDRe-mastered and re-issued, theseConverge records—now more thanseven years old—still destroy and stilldominate the ham-fisted and fumblingattempts to create truly heavy music.These albums may not have been thegenesis of metallic hardcore (dependingon what you consider metallic hardcore)but they are undoubtedly essential flash-points. These two records are prettymuch crucial if you like punk, metal,hardcore or music. –Puckett (Equal Vision)

CRANKED UP!: This Is a Weapon: CDA successful return to old. It’s been along, long time since I came across anovertly politi-punk band that I foundsatisfying, but Cranked Up! fit the bill.The lyrics revolve around differentmetaphors and means of resistingauthority/the state/the reactionary, etc.,

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but don’t really come off as clichéd—areal danger in such situations—andthey’re put to some truly energetic andcatchy punk; all in all, a good package.The liner notes do provide little blurbsabout the songs, though, and that irksme ‘cause as I see it, if you need toexplain your lyrics then your lyricshaven’t done the job in the first place.I’ll let that go, though, since the rest ofthe record merits my approval. –TheLord Kveldulfr (Creep)

CUT CITY: Self-titled: CDNo track names and zippo band infor-mation with this one, which is annoy-ing, but no matter. This is a nice bit ofindie pop with a smidge of lighterSonic Youth fare in some places and adash of ‘80s twee in others, neither ofwhich become so overbearing as toovershadow the band’s own strengths.Charming enough to grab your atten-tion and catchy enough to keep it.–Jimmy Alvarado (GSL)

DAN BAND, THE: Live!: CDIn the day and age of American Idoland karaoke, it’s an easier sell whenyou hear someone covering a song thatyou have heard before. So add the gim-mick that a man covers songs sung bywomen adds to the flair. Now picturegoing to Vegas and seeing a revue per-formed by Billy Joel of his favorite hitsperformed by women and this what youget. More fun actually being there, butI can picture myself pulling this outwhen I’m vacuuming the house. I haveno shame. –Donofthedead (Side OneDummy)

DAN MELCHIOR: Hello, I’mDan Melchior, aka Singer-Songranter: CD

It’s about what you’d expect when aguy makes a record with his wifeinstead of his ragged rock band;reduced volume and velocity, intro-spective lyrics set to contemplativearrangements (though pretty densearrangements much of the time—whilethe sound isn’t really close, there arecertain stylistic and conceptual similar-ities to Royal Trux), acoustic guitarsand pianos, and the performer’s ownvisual art. I can’t quibble with most ofit, and genuinely like a couple tracks(particularly the bouncy “AmericanaStrip Mall Rag”), but repeated listensdraw attention to just that: repetition.Melchior, on this record, tends to beatcertain lines into the ground, whichpuzzles me as he’s clearly smartenough to write a whole song’s worthof words. Ultimately that repetitionwill be the reason I won’t play thisrecord much. –Cuss Baxter (Shake It)

DAREDIABLO: Twenty Paces: CDWhile formulaic alt-country in appear-ance (map of Texas, muddy boot,catchy name, and song titles like “BillyGot Worse” and “Nife Fite on WifeNite”), I was quite perplexed when Iread that the Village Voice calledDarediablo a “jazz-funk prog-rocktrio.” I groaned audibly—what a night-mare. Surprisingly, this instrumentalthree-piece act is harmonious and wellsynchronized: a little metal, a littlesoul, and a little rock—with zero artsypretentiousness (that’s the best part).Constant attention is given to all emo-tions as they whisk up and down a riverof pensive and perpetual moodiness. Ialmost tossed this one, but my affecta-tion for excellent instrumental groupssuch as Pell Mell forbade me from

doing so without at least giving it a lis-ten. Not bad for what it is. –Jessica T(Southern)

DARKBUSTER: A Weakness for Spirits: CDIf you love catchy, drunk punk that’llstick to the top of your brain and you’llkeep on singing along to for years, Ihighly suggest Darkbuster’s side of thetheir split with Tommy and the Terrorson Rodent Popsicle that came out sev-eral years ago. That shit fuckin’smokes. I was stoked to get this. I wasdisappointed when I played it. Gone isthe feeling of guys who are—in theform of songs—breaking full pitchersof beer over your head and you can’tstop smiling. Gone is the feeling—again, in the form of songs—of spiltbeer in a full ashtray and they wouldgulp it up without a second thought;that liquid, dirty, sloppy, fun spirit. Nojudgement on the personalities behindthe band, but this is just “pro” in all thewrong ways, where fun has beenreplaced by calculation. There’s theirtake writing a Rancid-esque song.There’s their take on a SocialDistortion-esque song. There’s theirtake on writing a Dropkick Murphys-esque song. There’s their take on writ-ing a song for armed forces recruit-ment. And it’s all polished to a highsheen, like a brand new guitar, coveredin perfectly placed, highly deliberated,unscuffed stickers. Sounds untrue. Andwhat I wanted was more Darkbusterplaying Darkbuster. And getting hit inthe head by a pitcher again. It pains meto say this, but I’m wholeheartedly dis-appointed, even after listening to it tentimes over. Fuckin’ bummer. –Todd(www.darkbuster.net)

DEAD BETTIES: Summer of 93: CDGiven the band name and the albumtitle, I fully expected some lame poppunk tripe. What I got was skronkynoise punk. I guess sometimes youreally can’t judge a book by its cover.–Jimmy Alvarado (Heartcore, noaddress)

DEAD CELEBRITIES:Cleanup on Aisle: CDAfter a six-year run as one of the pre-mier bands on the St. Louis punk scene,the Dead Celebrities broke up in early2005. This album, the group’s onlyfull-length studio release, is a memo-rable mix of fury and humor. GuitaristElvis Kennedy creates jaggedly power-ful riffs and John Paul Nixon is a stand-out drummer. The band’s sound bears aresemblance to the music of the UKSubs and the Skulls, and vocalist SidSinatra is a witty voice of exasperation.The first song on the album is “Bail,” abreakneck hardcore rant about a dis-agreement with a policeman. The trackwould make a worthy pairing withT.S.O.L’s “Anticop” on a punk compi-lation album about law enforcement.(There’s an idea.) “Sweet Love Song”moves at equally high speed and isprobably Cleanup’s funniest track, withits mock-angry chorus of “Your uglybaby shoulda been mine.” Fittingly, thesong with the most anthemic chorus,“Dead Celebrities,” is also the mosttongue-in-cheek. It may also be theonly piece of music to referenceWinston Churchill, John Holmes, andMoe from The Three Stooges. Sinatra’svocal meltdowns and ironic lyrics areequally strong, and the music is infec-tious throughout. As this album shows,the Dead Celebrities played smart-assed punk at its finest. –Chris Pepus(Fat Fish)

DEADBOLT: Haight StreetHippie Massacre: CDProudly “Made in USA,” this 2003 ret-rospective thoughtfully covers all erasof Deadbolt’s arguably productivecareer. Includes staples like “Who theHell is Mrs. Valdez?” “Tiki Man,” “HitGone Wrong” and “Truck DrivingSOB.” Tossed in for good measure areseveral previously unreleased tracks: “ISaw the King,” “Go Tell Alice,”“Edie,” and “Listen to the Message.”For added value, a cover of BurtBacharach’s “Rain Drops Keep Fallingon My Head” has been tacked on at theend. Dedicated fans worldwide havehad most of this material for quite sometime, but newcomers will appreciatethe comprehensive peek down in thelab, especially since the liner notesinclude a complete roster of everyonewho has ever been in or with the band.Remorsefully, some of my favoritesongs aren’t included: “The Day I GotMy Spine Back,” “Slap,” “Creepy andWeird,” and “Twang Zombie.” –Jessica T (Cargo)

DEADLY, THE: The WolvesAre Here Again: CDCompetently crafted and producedmetallic screamo hardcore. While“These Are Cherry Blossoms” breaksinto a stellar melodic bridge whichcombines the usual chaos of the genrewith something resembling a hook, thisrecord strikes me as an average repre-sentation of the style. If you’re a new-comer to screamo or metallic hardcore,I wouldn’t suggest starting here.–Puckett (Pluto)

DEATH BY STEREO: Death for Life: CDDBS continue to be one of my favoritebands that wear the Pantera and Iron

Maiden flag on their sleeves, refusingto give a rat’s fat ass what you or any-one else thinks of them. Way talentedand way heavy, DBS have provenrecord after record that they can andwill play circles around most of thosecraptacular bands screen printed onback of that OzzFest T-shirt you had tospend two months worth of your lunchmoney on. Punk rock spirit with a fulldose of metal up your ass. And that’sgood metal, not that hair band pose ‘nwank shitty pap metal. Metal thatbassists Lemmy Kilmister and TomAraya have christened us with. Choicecuts here to mow your car throughKorn and Slipknot’s merch stands are“This Curse of Days,” “MiddleFingers,” and “Binge/Purge.” TheTorrez is fully backing the DBS, so thatalone should get your ass in gear. VivaDBS! Viva Torrez! YL in the house!–Designated Dale (Epitaph)

DEMON CITY WRECKERS:Inner Demons: CDI rolled my eyes. A psychobilly/punkband with a blank-city-noun name.What will they sing about? Aliens,zombies, necromancy, surfing on Mars,and maybe a murder or two after a tripto the asylum? Au contraire, this isgood. Really good. Not perfect, butthey will be—and soon. This Tucsonfoursome is creepy but not campy, dis-turbed but not mental, deeply painedand tightly wound. Their pressure-cooker steam is slowly relieved—acontrolled explosion, a slow burn,cathartic. Vocally reminiscent theMurder City Devils, the Demon CityWreckers blow past the pretentiousnessof the usual RAB/psycho outfits whilestill incorporating the expected ele-ments—a steady rhythm section (the

stand-up player actually knows morethan one bass line), metallic guitar, andheady, emotive vocals, albeit a bitstrained at times. But it works. Deep,throaty, rumbling, tight, and mesmeriz-ing from numerals I to X. Catchy androckin’ on “Left for Dead,” driving andpounding on “Inner Demons” and fan-tastically “Love You to Death”-esque(Meteors) on “Thirty-ninth andNorton,” presumably the homicidesong. (“The sun came up today, as Idrove away, I think they just found outabout me. Blood stains on dirty sheets,rolled up in my back seat.”) Shouldthey be graced with fortitude (and bet-ter production), they’ll be around blast-ing your ears for years. My kind ofrockin’. –Jessica T (Psychobilly US)

DESTRUX: Enter the Thrash Kick: CDEPWhile this would be considered bymany to be fairly generic thrashy hard-core and even though it sounds like itwas recorded in someone’s laundryroom, it won me over with its unbridledenergy and catchiness. I also like howthey manage to attack “the system” andsupport “the system” simultaneously,like in this line: “we thrash the systemand all the things we hate but we like todo rad things too, like drink Coke, playNintendo, and we like to skate.”Product placement and punk always gogreat together. So is this a Good CleanFun type of put-on or are these reallyjust half-witted teenagers obsessedwith skating and attacking/supportinggiant corporations? I guess it doesn’tmatter to me, because I have enteredthe thrash kick and I like it, whethertheir heads really are up their asses ornot. –Aphid Peewit (Blood Money)

DIALS, THE: Sick Times: CDEPFalling somewhere between 1960s mod(is that a Farfisa?) and 1990s riot grrrl,the songs are jagged, angular, bustedbeer bottles of music. They’re loose,simple, and raw, sounding like peoplefiguring out how to play instrumentswhile writing songs in a garage, unfet-tered by ideas of how something shouldbe done and, instead, creating whatsounds good. That isn’t to say that thissounds amateurish, merely that itreminds me of early punk bands creat-ing in a vacuum of interest when thepossibilities were still open and thehorizons of what a band could do had-n’t been narrowed by commercialprospects. –Puckett (The Dials,www.thedials.us)

DIRTBOMBS, THE: If You Don’t Already Have a Look: 2 x CDThere are few current bands that canlook so sweepingly and non-ironicallyinto the past, specifically at the roots ofsoul and rock’n’roll, and not only do itjustice, but plant a new flag in its ass.The Dirtbombs’ deep love of music thatmoves is obvious. The two CDs areseparated into originals and covers—fifty-two (!) tracks in all. I don’t have afavorite CD, and that’s another elementthat makes them so special. I appreciatetheir own take on what a modern bandcan do with such a rich history to tapfrom, but, man, I also love the fact thatthey cover such a wide umbrella ofmusic that wouldn’t or couldn’t be cov-ered by a less adventurous and confi-dent band. Cheater Slicks, SmokeyRobinson, Flipper, Gun Club, Soft Cell,The Ohio Players, and the English Beat

are all given the treatment in such a waythat it’s easy to come to the conclusion,“Shit, I never thought of listening tothem like that. Maybe I should re-listen.I must have missed something.” Andwhenever a band is that strong, youknow they’re onto something big. TheDirtbombs make so many other bandssound puny. –Todd (In the Red)

DIRTBOMBS: Merit b/wMystified (Version): 7”Mick Collins’ got stank. On “Merit,”he’s got the panty-wetting growl, thesmoke and assurance voice of a manwho knows where he stands: tall, incharge, and proud. And when you playanything flirting with soul and rock, likethe Dirtbombs do, they gotta makeyou—the listener—to want to get hip-wigglin’ stinky. They gotta bring thegospel, to spread both the word andlegs. On this song, they’re Booker T andthe MG’s precise (their meticulousnessjust further sharpens their blade) andI’ve if there’s any justice in this world,Otis Redding’s smiling down in theirdirection from above. The b-side is adub reggae song. Starts off soundinglike tugboats in the mist and then there’sa lot of reverb. I’ll be playing the a-sidea ton. –Todd (Kapow)

DISENGAGE: Application foran Afterlife: CDFirst off, the facts. 1) Derek Hess cover.2) Nice packaging. 3) Musically, pictureTool and Boy Sets Fire in a swinging-dick contest. 4) This CD includes avideo in which “action shots” of theband, like, rocking out are interspersedwith shots of some dude scribbling overanatomical drawings while a blondewoman, wearing what is commonlyreferred to as a wifebeater, throws wads

of paper at him. Then she gives him agrenade. That sort of vapidity permeatesthe entire record, and I’m left with areally, really bad feeling about thisband. Lyrically, I know it’s often diffi-cult to bridge the chasm between obscu-rity and obviousness, but these dudesjust go all the way for obscurity. I hon-estly don’t know what they’re shootingfor here. I mean, in the song “District 2Electric Boogaloo” the guy sings,“Baby cars but beat your babies, don’tget priorities straight/ Bingo stars, theycut in line, celebrities to the extreme/Are you Ghetto or Gummo?” and, “Thechurch is packed; the windows are stillcracked/ Time to forgive, use thatchange you found last night/ It’s time toeat, hungry mouths will complain/ Someet and greet, you’re all scum, youshould get along.” What the fuck is that?Vapid shit like that is all over the placeon this record—are these guys reallysaying that inner-city churchgoers are“scum?” That in the ghetto, everyonehas nice cars but beat the shit out oftheir kids? I mean, I’m not the quickestwhip in town, but I’m not dumb either,and I really can’t tell what they’re get-ting at. I assume the song “Bruise” isabout the aftermath of September 11,but I can’t tell if they’re honestly claim-ing they want to see “two towers climb-ing.” Do they really feel that we should“return the bodies to loving families andstart rebuilding immediately?” And I’msure a lot of folks in Afghanistan wouldbe thrilled and relieved to know that9/11 was simply “another crisis (that hasbeen) put out to pasture.” In “Cover theGlobe,” are they lamenting or applaud-ing the “slaughter” of “faith-based pro-grams?” There are a hundred othersketchy examples throughout thisrecord—if they’re shooting for a

tongue-in-cheek, “devil’s advocate” sortof lyrical attack, they missed the markby being way too fucking vague. And ifthey’re sincere, it just goes to show youthat even dipshit Republicans go to tat-too shops. –Keith Rosson (Fractured Transmitter)

DISORDER: The Riot City Years: CDAn assortment of early tracks from theseries of EPs the band put out on RiotCity back in the ‘80s, which translatesinto twenty tracks of primitive, blissful-ly sloppy UK punk that essentiallymines the same territory as earlyDischarge and, especially, the equallycrucial Chaos UK—no frills, no metal,just pure, balls to the wall, noisy as hellhardcore. –Jimmy Alvarado (Step-1 Music)

DISSIMILARS, THE: Jimmy’s Room: 7”I reviewed this band’s demo a whileback and I said that I couldn’t wait forthem to put out some vinyl. Now I don’thave to wait anymore. And, while it’sinexplicably lacking in Venom and Flagof Democracy riffs, it’s still great, fuzzy,bopping garage rock that sounds prettymuch like all those great bands thatcame out of the Southwest in the mid-‘90s like the Drags, the Inhalants, andthe Motards. It may seem like a disser-vice to compare them to so many otherbands, but with this kind of stuff, there’snot really anything new. However, I ampretty burned out on the we-used-to-love-the-Infections-but-now-we-love-Sonic-Youth stuff and it’s awesome toknow that bands are still playing thiskind of simple, straightforward punkrock with those catchy guitar parts thatwe can whistle to ourselves while we

clean the pool at the YMCA. And I hearthey’re straight edge. –Josh (Out of Order)

DOLLYROTS, THE: Eat My Heart Out: CDEat My Heart Out is bursting at theseams with an assault of yeah-yeahs,crunching guitars, heavy handclaps, andsoaring, sugary harmonies. Able to melttired punk rock hearts in a single bound!L.A.’s version of Sahara Hotnights gotme to love them forever and it only tookan instant. –Kat Jetson (Panic Button)

DOWNBEAT 5, THE: Victory Motel: CD...boy, i dunno. As much as i liked whati heard off the first album, and as muchas i am inclined to believe that J.J.Rassler generally does good work, all ihear here (note clever Hollies reference)is—quote me on this—A BUNCH OFROCK (the band is welcome to take thisas a compliment, though it was notintended as such). I mean, if thePaybacks are AC/DC—and who’s to saythey’re not?—then the Downbeat 5 arenow April Wine. Great. We’ll call youwhen we need another favor, or a themefor homecoming or something. This sit-uation is hardly helped by the inclusionof a way-too-Blondie Shangri-La’snumber, “Out in the Streets,” but, sud-denly! Without prior notification! At theexact moment that one would assumethe vinyl equivalent of the CD wouldcommence side two (well, okay, there’sten songs. I figure “side two” starts ontrack 6. If you fault my math, show meyours), the record, shockingly, stopssucking. The band abruptly drops theloathsome and undistinguished “ABUNCH OF ROCK” bit, and resumesthe high energy, sweet ‘n’ crunchy r’n’r

hijinx of their earlier efforts with“Army of One,” following it up with asecond (?!) Shangri-La’s cover, thistime “Dum Dum Ditty,” a song farmore to my liking than the semi-retard-ed “Out in the Streets” (exactly. “DumDum Ditty” is superior to “Out in theStreets” because “Out in the Streets” issemi-retarded, and “Dum Dum Ditty”is ALL THE WAY retarded. You knowme too well, Montresor!). These tworesounding avengements of the firstside’s unmeasurable shititude are fol-lowed by “Lonesome Town,” a coolcover ballad whose origins i cannotplace, and another quality original(“Climbin’ the Walls”), but the lastsong is a repeat dose of the Rock Drossof the first side, and thusly cannot beabided. All i can think of is that thisband saw the Paybacks, marveled(understandably) at their greatness,and, in their youthful (er...) vigor,attempted a sort of ill-advised emula-tion that they will, in due time, lookback upon with proper embarrassment.Please record another album when youare feeling better. BEST SONG: “DumDum Ditty” BEST SONG TITLE:“Dum Dum Ditty” FANTASTICAMAZING TRIVIA FACT: TheImperial 400 Motel—depicted on thetop of the album’s back cover—stands(albeit in more dilapidated form), tothis day, directly across the street frommy PO Box. Once, me and MichaelLucas hung out there and watched DanQuayle give a speech to a bunch offarmers in Iowa on TV. It was fun.–Rev. Nørb (Abbey Lounge)

DR. CHUD’S X-WARD:Diagnosis for Death: CDI remember the day I gave up on theMisfits. I was sitting in a diner,

wrestling was on the TV, and I sawJerry Only and Doyle gleefully squirt-ing ketchup and mustard on a fallenbad guy. That was it; the Misfitsjumped the shark. Dr. Chud, formerdrummer of the new Misfits, is thephysical incarnation of said sharkjumping. Completely riding on his“fame” of being the drummer for areformed band that was basically a par-ody of itself, he put together this atro-cious CD of the most boring, run-of-the-mill bar rock I’ve ever heard. Itdoesn’t sound like the Misfits. It does-n’t sound like anything. Maybe a littlebit like Alice in Chains, but a bustedbunch-of-forty-year-old-constructon-workers-that-jam-with-their-buddies-on-weekends-style Alice in Chains.Sorry Doc, crappy songs with lyricsabout Frankensteins and stuff are stilljust crappy songs. I hereby give thisalbum the ultimate dis! It sucks! –BenSnakepit (Bloodwork)

DRIVEWAY SPEEDING:Reasons Are Not Answers: CDEPThrough the years I have really latchedonto certain labels, Crackle being oneof them. Even with genres that I mightnot like, they have released bands that Ienjoy. I feel like they have a kindredspirit with my taste in music. A newband out of the UK, this band hasmembers from bands that I haveenjoyed from the past like Servo (whoare incredible!) and Ohno Express. Ihave heard references to Leatherfacethrown around. I can’t use that one. Ihave no releases from said band andhave made no effort on my part to lis-ten to them. I have seen them once live.But what I do know is that these guysknow how to keep things mellow but

write some great songs with a goodsense of melody. While keeping thingson the raw side, the magic of the musiccarries the flag in a bold manner. Likelater period Hüsker Dü and what Iknow of the Replacements, this bandplay a melodic rock that has enoughelements of punk to keep me satisfied.–Donofthedead (Crackle)

DUPLEX: Album: CDThe members of a grade school andhigh school play got together in oneroom, made up some stuff (rapidly),pushed the record button and let thetape roll for about an hour. That’s prob-ably not exactly what happened, but itsure as hell sounds like it. With suchmusical numbers entitled “SaladSong,” “Multiplication Treehouse,”and “Heatin’ Up the Milk,” it’s easy topass this one up—unless, of course,you’re shopping for your five-year-oldniece. FYI, this recording was “…madepossible through the assistance of theCanada Music Fund and the MusicSection of the Canada Council for theArts.” Canada should seek a refund.–Kat Jetson (Mint)

EASY ACTION: Friends of Rock and Roll: 7”Easy Action’s singer, John Brannon,has an unquestionable pedigree. Frombeing in one of the bar-none best hard-core bands of all time, NegativeApproach, to the gargling nails, hard-driving powerhouse of the LaughingHyenas, there’s no doubt that his dueshave been paid and his time has beenserved. For me, Easy Action flirts onthat same edge of rock’n’roll as theAntiseen. I appreciate what they’redoing, but half the time it’s hard to sus-tain enthusiasm. Easy Action are rough

and growly and thuddy. They’re defi-nitely not sugaring anything, but, musi-cally, they can be pretty standard,repetitive, and a couple ticks too slowfor me to really get behind. Wanted tolike this more. –Todd (Reptilian)

EERIE VON: Bad Dream #13: CDPoor Eerie Von. He was the Misfits’roadie, then he got to play bass inSamhain. When Samhain turned intoDanzig, Eerie lucked out and made thecut (I guess sticking it out throughFinal Descent paid off for him.) But, atsome point right after Danzig IV cameout, Eerie must’ve done something topiss Glenn off, ‘cause he got kicked outof Danzig, and ever since he’s been likea ghost, occasionally drifting by with asolo album like this one. It’s apparentthat Eerie wasn’t the secret songwritingtalent in either Samhain or Danzig,‘cause this CD pretty much relies ontricks to get by. Tricks, I imagine, thatEerie learned from Glenn during thekeyboard-and-drum-machine phase ofFinal Descent. Tricks borrowed fromthe bullshit that Glenn is trying to passoff as Danzig these days. Pretty much,this record sounds like a dude dickingaround on a four track. And that’s pret-ty much what it is. –Ben Snakepit(Ghastly)

EMERGENCY: 1234: CDSo far as I’m able to reckon, this is amodern Canadian skin band thateschews the requisite odes to drinking,blind patriotism, and right-wing war-mongering in favor of swipes at thevapidity of factory life, the army, theUnited States government, and thehomogenization of western society.Musically, the band recycles more than

their share of riffs, but, on the whole, thetunes work and they sound considerablymore authentic than the majority of theirbald contemporaries. I dig ’em. –JimmyAlvarado (Step-1 Music)

EPOXIES, THE: Stop the Future: CDI may not be able to articulate as well asothers at this here mag in regards to thisband. But I was highly anticipating thisrelease to review and listen. I missed thedebut 7” that sold real quick. But thedudes at Razorcake HQ made sure that Iheard their self-titled full length. I wasblown away like a scrap piece of news-paper on a windy day. That release hada long stay in the CD changer. A lot ofbands are playing the second wave ofnew wave, but like any scene, only afew stand out. This band stands out. Onthis sophomore release, the productionis much stronger and the songwritinghas shown a continued maturity. Theystill have an amazing knack of creatingand capturing the melody so that thesongs are memorable and keep youhumming. The guitars are much moreprominent this time around and thequirkiness of the synths are not in theforefront but more complementary. Inturn, the songs have more of a punchthat you can feel from a distance. Morerock and less novelty. Roxy Epoxy alsosounds more confident in her vocaldelivery. The vocals have more passionand I feel she gives the songs more emo-tional layers. Overall, they overcomethe sophomore curse and put a releasethat is so much better than their previousproduct. If you haven’t taken the time tocheck this band out in the past, now isthe time. Portland is kicking some majorass with the latest wave of bands com-ing out! –Donofthedead (Fat)

EPOXIES, THE: Stop the Future: CDIf anyone makes the snide remark thatThe Epoxies are an ‘80s rehash band,then their eyes must be dark brown dueto the fact that they’re full of shit. Yes,The Epoxies borrow a half-cup of thisand dash in a bit of that from some ofwhat reared its head in the ‘80s, but it’swhat they do with it that makes them sodamn good when it comes to makingrecords. There’s the winding synththat’s right in there with the pummelingrhythm section and rocking guitar, butit’s a pleasing mix that ain’t toorough/experimental, yet not too over-produced or slick like some of the clovecigarette smoke-filled, new-romanticdance hall slime that was spinning in thepast. Roxy’s singing is a bit hard to puta finger on, but try and think of a youngChrissie Hynde (Pretenders) with thevocal meter of a young Leonard Graves(Dickies). Kudos to the Fat WreckChords folks for getting this secondrekkid out in the hands of soon-to-be-fans. While you’re out doing yourselfthe favor of grabbing this, do yourselfanother and get their debut full lengthon Dirtnap. Both CDs will have youbobbing your head like a crack-riddenchicken in seconds flat (It’s true—ithappened to me the first time I saw themblow the roof off The Echo in L.A. afew years ago). –Designated Dale (Fat)

FATALS, THE: Yeah Baby: 7”Dunno what it is about this label, buteverything I’ve ever heard has eitherbeen over the top, flat-out rockin’, orsome combination thereof. Such is thecase with these guys, who take the ‘60strash thing, rip it to fucking shreds, andthen piss all over the remains. If you’reinto having your ears scrubbed with

wire mesh while you rock out, this willmore than do the trick. Good luck find-ing it, though, ’cause it’ll no doubt belong gone by the time you read this, butI highly recommend you put in someextra effort to seek it out. –JimmyAlvarado (Zaxxon Virile Action)

FEDERATION X: Rally Day: CDGritty rock with enough Sabbath-inspired sludginess smooshed in to giveit a stoner sheen. Not bad. –JimmyAlvarado (Estrus)

FIVE OUTSIDERS, THE: On the Run: CDSoft and reverb-soaked cowpoke instru-mental vistas as wide open as the highplanes, drifting along like so many tum-bleweeds. It’s kind of like having theVentures play the theme songs from allyour favorite spaghetti westerns whileyou sit in a warm bath tub, smoking aratty cigar with your cowboy boots on.Surprisingly refreshing. I bet it wouldgo good with a bottle of Mescal. –AphidPeewit (Acme)

FLEAS AND LICE: Recipes for Catastrophes: CDIt’s a repress of the LP that was origi-nally released by Skuld in Germany in2001 by a long-running band fromHolland that started in 1993 who contin-ues today flying the flag of crust punkand DIY. Male/female dual vocals areup front of the exchanging the messageof what pisses them off. Musically, mid-tempo to fast Discharge meets Nauseapunk rock that a lot of bands are playingtoday. Never really got around to buyingtheir stuff, but it’s great to finally hearwhat they sound like after seeing somany of their patches on the kids thesedays. –Donofthedead (Rodent Popsicle)

FOLSOM: If You’re a Viper: CDEPFirst thing as this blasts out of thespeakers is the thought, “My dick is big-ger than your dick!” The machismo isrampant on this one. Like a fight aboutto break out and the bravado is flying astwo males take off their shirts ready fora full-on brawl. No lyric sheet showsthat someone is not the most proud. Onthe bright side, the music is powerful. Itdelves into rap metal at times, but themetal/hardcore makes up for it.–Donofthedead (Spook City)

FUGUE, THE: Mysterious Animals: CDStraight up noise rock mongering goingon here with no attempts whatsoever tosugarcoat it. Whether it’s good or not isdependent on your personal affection oraversion to this type of stuff, but ifyou’re of a mind to crank this kinda shitup, you could do much worse. Nowexcuse me as I render myself deaf.–Jimmy Alvarado (RIYL)

FUNCTIONAL BLACKOUTS:Chemical Bath b/w Raw Dawg,Raw Deal + In My Vacuum: 7”The a-side starts out with a chant,sprints into guitar-laden looptey loops,crashes at an intersection, unzips itspants, flops out a horn, goes back to thechant “Chem-i-cal, Chem-i-cal,” pausesagain, and blasts for a third and lasttime. It’s part doses of the CloneDefects, the Tyrades, and the ThirteenFloor Elevators. My tolerance for“experimental rock” is limited, but theBlackouts succeed by the fact that theynever forget to continue the “rock” partand keep pushing forward. The b-side isthe more typical Functional Blackoutsdemolition derby. Lots of yellin’. Lots

of bashin’. The feeling I get is that thesefolks would roll up a carpet after a showif there was enough beer to wring out ofit, and drink in unhesitating, heavygulps. Something definitely ain’t rightwith ‘em and that’s what makes ‘em sodamn good. –Todd (Wrench)

GIMMIES, THE: Phonic Souls: CDFull-tilt, trashy ruckus’n’roll along thesame lines as Thee Machine GunElephant or Teengenerate with a smidgeof Stones mixed in. Nice cover of RadioBirdman’s “New Race.” A curt review, Iknow, but it’s damned hard to type whenyer rockin’ the fugg out. –JimmyAlvarado (Dionysus)

GLOW, THE: The Ghosts Are Out: CDFairly solid, yet also fairly pedestrianindie rock, heavy on the organ. Whilenot exactly the Replacements in theirprime, it does have its merits, especiallywhen they pick up the pace a bit. –Jimmy Alvarado (Bankshot)

GOLDBLADE: Rebel Songs: CDThis is much, much better than the pre-vious album I heard from these guys,with a more “traditional” approach tothe songs, some of which are plentycatchy. The lyrics, while at times a littletoo cryptic than are good for ’em,address governmental lies, plastic soci-ety, and war. Ultimately, though, I justcan’t seem to get into ’em as much as Iwould like. –Jimmy Alvarado (Captain Oi)

GORT: The Arrival: CDEPFrom one-fourth of El Monte’s mid-‘90snoise mongers Cascius Clay—specifi-cally their guitarist Frank—comesanother blast of aural agony sure to cur-dle your milk and cause your lawn todie. As with his previous musicalendeavors with the Naggs, Spread Ego,and the aforementioned Cascius Clay,sludgy rhythms and liberal doses ofnoise-for-noise’s-sake are slathered on aheaping pile of post-Melvins/Eyehategod heaviness, withmaybe a nod in the direction of earlySonic Youth for good measure. While Iadmit to being an admirer of his previ-ous endeavors, I also freely admit that Ithink this collaborative effort withdrummer Brad Baker is his best, mostconsistent effort to date. That’s a mightynice Circle One shirt yer wearing in thepic, too, Frank. Tell Mike I’m jealous.–Jimmy Alvarado (gortmusic@hotmail.com)

GRAVES BROTHERSDELUXE, THE: Light: CDA cornucopia of sounds emanating fromthis—Waits-inspired weirdness, a littlepunk, some (in the words of a Mr.Retodd) “squeaky balloon” free jazznoodling. Interesting listen. –JimmyAlvarado (Good Forks)

GRAVES BROTHERSDELUXE, THE: Light: CDFor some weird reason this reminds meof listening to Screamin’ Jay Hawkins ifhe played in a rock project. But some-times it gets weirder maybe due to amember participating in the Residents.A little too weird for my weird meter.–Donofthedead (Good Forks)

GRAVY TRAIN!!!!: Are You Wigglin’?: CDOakland’s raunch and roll here-ho’s,

Gravy Train!!!!, lay down another discof nasty and naughty party tunes withtheir second full-length release, Are YouWigglin’? Previous efforts gave uspop/rap sing-alongs about bouncing tit-ties, turning people gay and hamburgersthat fuck (don’t ask). More of the samewith Are You Wigglin’?, but this half-boy/half-girl foursome toned it downjust enough to make this release morefun/less shock. But not so much that youwon’t be smirking when you’re shakingyour ass to the sweet sounds of “PussySauce.” Providing that you still weren’tsold, all this goodness is smothered inbitchin’ organs and totally catchy guitarriffs. –Kat Jetson (Kill Rock Stars)

GUAPO: Black Oni: CDA weird, symphonic installation of fiveparts (or tracks) that combines the bas-tardization of free form jazz, noise, andaural textures. It is, in effect, a challengein patience and tolerance. Over fortyminutes of jamming. –Donofthedead(Ipecac)

GUITAR GANGSTERS: Let ’Em Have It: CDAs has become expected from theseguys, this is poppy UK punk of the firstorder from a band that fits nicelybetween Cocksparrer at their mostanthemic and the Undertones at theirpoppiest. The cover of the FourSeasons’ “Can’t Take My Eyes off ofYou” was quite good, but the cover ofDennis Brown’s “Money in My Pocket”was even better. Few bands mining thisterritory seem to get it right. This is oneof those few. –Jimmy Alvarado (Captain Oi)

GUN SHYS, THE: Self-titled: CDEPSounds like—and kinda looks like—that Code Blue album, minus the onegood song. Either that, or any of thereally bad songs on that misleadinglyawesome-looking Reds 10” on A&Mfrom 1979. My Fuckhead-O-Meter hasbeen emitting a steady and vociferousblare since initial contact with this item.Heed it. Heed it! BEST SONG:“Whisper/Touch,” if we’re still talkingabout that Code Blue album BESTSONG TITLE: “Madly in Action” FAN-TASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT:This is the kind of band that friendsevery single person they possibly can onMySpace. –Rev. Nørb (Aeronaut)

GUNPOWDER: Circle A Ranch: CDThis self-released album is not, as theirwebsite claims, “a musical juggernaut ofapocalyptic proportions bringing musicalecstasy, chaos, and joy...” I only feel crip-pling nausea as I recoil in horror. It is nei-ther counterpart of “Dick Dale meets NickCave.” They even wrote an unfunnycomedic ditty about receiving a parkingticket in Los Angeles. They queerilywhine, “Well, I’m from Oakland and theywouldn’t do that there.” Ppfffttt. Girl talk.Don’t take your guns to town, boys, don’ttake your guns to town. In fact, lay themdown forever and rejoin your hippiefriends—keep erroneously thinking, “It’sAmericans with guns who shoot peopledead.” –Jessica T(Gunpowder, www.gunpowderband.com)

HAIL SOCIAL: Self-titled: CDSome nice indie pop with splashes ofnew wave and post-punk to keep thingsinteresting. Wouldn’t be surprised a bitif they became darlings in the under-ground. –Jimmy Alvarado (Polyvinyl)

HATEBEAK/CANINUS: Split: 7” Hatebeak: Grindcore courtesy of twoguys, a drum machine, and a parrotvocalist. Yes, a parrot. Sounds exactlylike you’d expect. Caninus: Grindcorewith vocals comprised of dogs barkingand what sounds like someone slurpingthe last strawful of an unknown drinkfrom the bottom of a very large glass.–Jimmy Alvarado (Reptilian)

HBLOOCK101: Human Flotsam: CDFrom what I gather, this is a collectionof EPs from an Australian band that hasbeen around for a while. They serve upsome prime-grade punk rock here, withpolitically oriented lyrics that don’tcome off as preachy in the least andsome catchy, straight-ahead punkriffage. There are a few covers on here,all of which, with the exception of “TheHarder They Come,” (don’t fuck withJimmy Cliff, boyos) are quite nearly asgood as the originals. Most impressiveis that they describe themselves as play-ing “’77-influenced punk rock,” yet,even though they cover theHeartbreakers, they sound nothing likethe Thunders-worshipping lemmingsthat glom onto that description likejunked-out moths to a flaming kilo ofblack tar. Definitely worth a listen.–Jimmy Alvarado (Mad Butcher)

HITCHHIKERS, THE: Self-titled: CDMitch Cartwright, former bass slingerfor those sorely-missed nudniks TheHumpers, has been rumbling on with hisHitchhikers the last four years with ahell of an impressive band that he’s nowplaying bass and singing for. Steve“Spills” Swailes, who you might’veseen in the Neurotones, as well as vari-ous line-ups of The Gears and TheControllers, is also along for the ride onlead guitar. Musically, it’d be easy tocompare the ‘Hikers to The Humpers,‘cause the influence is there, but thisparticular group of nudniks are doingjust fine. Key jingle-jangles here are“The New Son,” “Strychnine,” “Life ofCrime,” and the song that will get yourdrunken, chain-smoking grandma upand shaking her ass, “NeckboneStomp.” Catch ‘em out at their next gig,if given the chance (and keep yourbooze away from Spills). –Designated Dale (Hitchhikers, www.thehitchhikers.com)

HOGNOSE: El Sombrero: CDThis started out promising. The firstsong was kind of a combination of thestraight for the throat rock of NashvillePussy mixed with the pop hook andvocal style of O from Fluf. Interestingfor sure, it too bad that everything dis-solved into the most boring of stonerrock as soon as the second track started.Too bad indeed. –Ty Stranglehold(Arclight)

HOLOGRAMS, THE: Night of1000 Ex-Boyfriends: CDI loved thrash, death metal, grindcoreand the like but I do have a soft spot forall-girl bands! So the mighty Retodd putthis puppy in my inbox at RazorcakeHQ. After so many years, he knows hiscontributors well. I’m guessing that thisa L.A. based band featuring twoJapanese and two Caucasian (one wholooks like a young Britney Spears onbass) players. They crank out somegreat bubblegum pop melodies with a

new wave bent. They also add a snotti-ness and energy of punk’s early years totheir songs. Dual vocal duties are han-dled with dreamy, yet strong, convic-tion. They lure you in with sweetnessand punch you back with a fierce attack.The music has the charm of seeing somany great garage bands that are rarelywitnessed by the masses. I hope I have achance to check them out live someday.–Donofthedead (Teenacide)

HOMBRINUS DUDES/LOADED FOR BEAR: Split: 7”I’m really not a fan of that crazy, wall o’death growly (grind? crust? who cares?)stuff, so I guess this might be a shortreview. My first tip off is the HombrinusDudes’ logo. It’s all barbed and all overthe place and you can’t really read it. Ifind that in most of my experience,bands with logos like that play tunesthat I don’t like. Yep, I was right.Loaded for Bear were already ahead inmy books since I could read who theywere. They also had funnier song titles(“The Jack Lord Fan Club” and“Machine Powered Orgasms”). Theyhad more song structure and less growl,but at the end of the day, I’m still not afan. –Ty Stranglehold (no address)

HORDE, THE: Join or Die: CDThe recent couple of years of hardcorehave raised the waterline. The land-scape’s been reshaped, expanded, andredefined, like a river backed up by adam. Bands like Fucked Up, CareerSuicide, Out Cold, Cut the Shit, DS-13,Tragedy, From Ashes Rise, and LaFaction, I believe, have dealt out handsthat equal the best from the early ‘80s.The Horde are good, not great. Takeearly Sick of It All, a less frenetic Force,and, especially, Death By Stereo’s firstrecord, and they’re in that camp.Borderline metallic, tough guy/positiveforce hardcore that’s not shameful, notwithout merit, but not entirely memo-rable or distinct in its own right. –Todd(1-2-3-4 Go!)

HUMAN EYE, THE: Self-titled: CDI don’t even fucking know what this is.At least one Clone Defect is in thisband, and it sort of sounds like there’s abackbone made up of that really art-damaged garage stuff that’s been mak-ing the rounds (Clone Defects, LostSounds, Functional Blackouts), but it’sso completely off the deep end that Idon’t even know what to say. And Igrew up with stuff like the ButtholeSurfers and the Cows, so for me to bethis stunned by noise is really sayingsomething. At times, like “Age,” theydo some cool shit, but for the most part,this doesn’t have enough hooks toappeal to most people and it doesn’thave enough parts where somebodyyells out, “cunt cunt cunt cunt cunt,” toappeal to a Butthole Surfers fan.Probably a great record to put on andclear out a crowded room, though. –Josh(In the Red)

HUMAN TANGA: A Ritual Sacrifice for the Big Nothing: CDWhat the hell is this? The CD cover is ahorrid cut and paste job that looks likean Urban Outfitters ad. The music ismid-tempo, heavy rock with lousy drumproduction and these irritating low-pitched, goofy vocals that seriouslysound like the dude from Gwar. I don’tunderstand why anyone in the worldwould like this. Even the band soundsbored. –Ben Snakepit (Nicotine)

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INDIAN JEWELRY: In Lovewith Loving: 7”Using the second Echoboy album onMute as my main frame of reference(and who wouldn’t?), the title tracksounds like one of the few real bombsoff that album, and “Climbing up theWalls,” while better, would probablyonly qualify as filler material on thatrecord—but “Lost My Sight,” whichoccupies the entire b-side of this slow-ly turning platter, sounds like one of thebetter songs thereon—trancey, echoey,fuzzy, repetitive, f’d up, and cool. Iimagine i’d be courting a lynching tosuggest purchasing a record of thisnature; having not been lynched in awhile, i suppose i’ll consider it. BESTSONG: “Lost My Sight” BEST SONGTITLE “Climbing up the Walls” FAN-TASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT:“These tracks were recorded as quicklyas possible.” –Rev. Nørb (On/On Switch)

INTERFUSE: Closed DoorsOpen Tracks: CDBased on the first track, I was going towrite this one off as another emorelease that sounds like At the Drive-In.That was until I heard track two, enti-tled “Jeff Truth” with its pounding bassriffs accented by the right mix of feed-back and distortion and drums that feelalmost tribal mixed with the right tonesto give it a driving effect. That song hasa unique quality to it that it was kind ofhard to pin down. At the moment, itsounds like a mixture of Crass meetsthe Super Heroines or Elastica. Butother tracks veer more towards rock,and punk—and one track I swearsounded like it could have been an Xtrack with its hints of cow punk. Theopening track almost made this a

throwaway, but with further inspection,this became a keeper. –Donofthedead(Tragic End)

JAPANTHER: Wolfenswan: CDThough Japanther’s anarchic crush ofsamples, lo-fi synth buzz, beats, cheapbeats, and poppy melodies doesn’t real-ly physically resemble Pavement, itdoes remind me of that band’s similarmethodology fifteen years back orwhatever it was. Throwing shit togeth-er because it was fun and because itwas what just came out always made atremendous amount of sense to me, andeven in the apparent disorder a certainhomogeneity gels when the work istaken as a whole. And so, even if this issomething I never would have soughtout, its lack of pretension generates apuddle of comfort into which I’mhappy to settle. –Cuss Baxter (Plan-It-X)

JFK JR. ROYAL AIR-FORCE: Androids: CDSludgy, sometimes almost jazzy artdamage, sorta like Flipper without allthe lyrics or Savage Republic at theirnoisiest and least Middle Eastern. Ifyou’re in just the right mood, this morethan delivers the goods. Factoid that’llprobably never come up in a TrivialPursuit game: this band features BillySyndrome, who was in the Pricks witha pre-Def Jam Rick Rubin. –JimmyAlvarado (Slutfish, no address)

JIYUNA: The Devil IsWaiting for Us in the Palace—Rush Courageously: CDBoy, the packaging on this is beautiful:screenprinted on chipboard and hand-cut in the shape of a cityscape, folded

in thirds with a little button for the CDto sit on, and with a tiny twenty-pagelyric book inserted. However, due tothe fact that the actual music on the CDis weak screamy me-core, I do believeI will cause the CD to not be at myhouse and instead install another oneon its top-flight little button. I just hopeI don’t forget what I did and start rec-ommending Jiyuna to my friends in acouple years, or—heavens!—acciden-tally go see them myself. Ah fuck, acouple more years at this pace and Iwon’t even like music anymore. –CussBaxter (ifb)

JOHN FRANCIS &IMPOSTERS, THE: The Earnest Manboy Suite inE Major: CDEPI cannot recommend this “opus”: pre-tentious typewriter solos bookend andinfiltrate one-dimensional two-manthree-practice guitar rock which I sup-pose gains “opus” status by virtue of:1) being a fifteen-minute song with: 2)a recurrent theme (i.e. one riff). I wishI knew enough music theory to disputeits E Major status, but I’ll leave that tothe Commissioner. And, oh yeah, don’tget mad at anyone named John Francis;this guy’s name is Jack Francis. –CussBaxter (John Francis, etc)

JOHN PODDY: Punk Rock Star: CDAn apparent one-man band singingsongs like “You Made Me Gay” and“Your Mom’s a Fag.” Punka dunka,dude. –Jimmy Alvarado (Long Bored)

JUDGE: What It Meant, theComplete Discography: CDFunny, but after all these, years I stillcan’t help but think of Crucial Youth’s

parodying of the whole “hardline”straight edge thing when I put this on,and I soon find myself singing “I’vegot a positive dental outlook” and “ifyou don’t shave clean, you’re not in thescene” at the top of my lungs, which is,of course, not what’s coming out of thespeakers. Judge was one of those late‘80s straight edge bands that justseemed to be flogging a plenty deadhorse by the time they came along, andnearly two decades later, they soundjust about as stale, with all their big,gruff talk about their crew and lookingdown on people for doing drugs, andyet apparently seeing no irony inembedding more than a little metalriffage into their sound and even cover-ing Led Zeppelin. It’s not that Ihad/have anything against straight edgeas a philosophy, but its more puritanicaladherents, with their virulent self-right-eousness and fashion sense inspired byCatholic school jocks, hold a specialplace in my heart, right next to dung-beetles, the Bush family, moco sculp-tures and born-again Christians.Subsequently, any band that alignsthemselves with any group ofNeanderthals who think that beatingsomeone up will keep them from get-ting high is not gonna rate very higharound these parts, as some of us are ofthe belief that such attitudes andactions run contrary to the whole punkethic. Anyway, if you’re into this lateperiod “youth crew” tripe you’ll behappy to know you can now play theirentire recorded output while you’regetting ready for the evening’s brain-washing session at the local Krishnatemple without having to stop once tochange the record. –Jimmy Alvarado(Revelation)

KEVIN K AND THE REALKOOL KATS: Perfect Sin: CDThis dude wants to be Johnny Thundersso fucking bad, I can smell the hairsprayfrom here. This album sounds like out-takes from Thunders’ Que Sera, SeraLP, which wasn’t really that good of arecord to begin with. Between the four-page booklet, the back cover and the CDitself, there are thirteen photos of theband. I don’t want to bag too hard onthis, as they seem to be, you know, fair-ly sincere in that Jeff-Dahl-rock-meets-punk kind of way, and apparently thisguy’s been around forever, but there’sonly so many times you can rhyme “allright” and “tonight” before I put anoth-er record on. –Keith Rosson (Kevin K)

KILL THE MAN WHO QUESTIONS: Industry Document: CDKill the Man Who Questions was apolitical hardcore band from the mid- tolate ‘90s and this is a collection of theirsingles and compilation tracks. They’rea band whose name I used to see aroundbut never got around to picking up anyof their stuff besides the Sugar IndustryLP, and listening to this CD, I feel like adumbass for not doing so. As with mostDIY (as in, “not on Victory Records”)hardcore from that era, and pretty muchfrom the whole decade, it’s raw, dirty,and doesn’t make the slightest effort tobe listener-friendly or commerciallyviable. It takes its share of cues frombands like Born Against, Crass, andLogical Nonsense, and the result isintense and explosive, fitting in wellnext to contemporaries (in aesthetic, notnecessarily sound) like His Hero IsGone and Los Crudos. It’s a rad way topick up any of their stuff if you missedout like I did the first time around. –Josh(Cheap Art)

KILL-A-WATTS, THE: Circuit Breaker Love: CDI somewhat enjoy the Kill-A-Watts’passable Infections impersonations.BEST BACK COVER PHOTOWHICH ILLUSTRATES A SONGTITLE: “Zipper Patience” BEST SONGTITLE: “Oh Cheeseburger” FANTAS-TIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Thefont that “KILL-A-WATTS” is typesetin on the front cover is called “LowerWest Side.” It should not be confusedwith Lower East Side, which just lookslike a bunch of wood. –Rev. Nørb (RipOff)

KINETO: Transform: CDNo matter how you dress it, package it,slice it, or dice it, metal bites the weenie.–Jimmy Alvarado (Kineto)

KOFFIN KATS: Inhumane: CDThe double-K spelling has always both-ered me, and the postured, blood-soakedoverindulgence on the cover kept this atarm’s length. Straight from my now-hometown, these Detroiters bang outfifteen tracks of fast, loud, and fuckedpsychobilly. Detroit’s caliginosityensorcells their collective maddenedmind, spewing forth fertile, bona fiderock with deference to the Damned andearly Misfits. Passes muster with the oldschool crowd—one of the better thingsI’ve heard in this vein for quite sometime. –Jessica T (PsychobillyUS)

KRUNCHIES, THE: In DeWinkel: CDDid I just stick my finger in an outlet ordo these fucking guys rip?!? I’ll answer

that for you. This CD is frying my brain!The Krunchies have the energy of a caf-feinated and sugared up five-month-oldpuppy that just took a hit of cocaine.There are twelve songs on this CD injust over nineteen minutes of sheerrock! Tinny guitar riffs and sloppy basslines layered nicely over flowing hardand fast paced, almost hardcore, beats.Male/female fronted vocals that singand scream over the top of the musicalinsanity. In fact, Amanda’s high-pitchedscreaming could break some glass. Notonly do they musically amaze me, butthey have song titles like “Reaffirmingmy Hatred of Humanity through FailedRelationships” and “Kill YourFace/Murder My Will.” It’s hard tomake comparisons and make it soundaccurate, because even though the genresounds similar, I can’t place a band thathas a similar sloppy fast garage/no wavesound that can pull off the amount ofenergy these guys have. This just maybe one of my new favorites. Now theyjust have to tour out west so I can seethem. –Newtim (Criminal IQ)

KUNG FU MONKEYS, THE:Coast to Coast with the KungFu Monkeys: 7”Music created by human Happy Mealprizes! Querents who wish to knowwhat it is that separates Elfin Masters ofTreacle-Core such as the KFM frommere wishful thinkers should look nofurther than “Chapel Hill, Surf City”—J. Cahill could have easily just let thelyrics contain the comparatively vanillaline “The California coastline is reallythe most,” but, instead, he spent theextra three seconds to think about it alittle bit and presented it in the subtly-but-powerfully altered form of “TheCalifornia coastline is really the most-line”—transmuting mere Vanilla tomighty Chocolate Chip Mint with onedeftly placed syllable! Please make anote of it. In a perfect world, JamesCahill would be playing Dr. Doom inthe upcoming Fantastic Four movie,and the Stormtroopers in Star Warswould wear sweater vests. BESTSONG: “Chapel Hill, Surf City” BESTSONG TITLE: “Candy Shoppe(Twice),” if only for the esotericModern Lovers reference FANTASTICAMAZING TRIVIA FACT: 1. Thisrecord contains the SwimminglyRecords Slip of Quality: “If it weren’tquality, we wouldn’t put it out, and wewouldn’t put this little slip of paper in iteither. That’s a promise.” 2. The KungFu Monkeys once bought me lunch.You’re goddamn right there was a milk-shake involved! –Rev. Nørb(Swimmingly)

KUNG FU MONKEYS, THE:Electric Tangerine Smile,Shindig Volume 3 in 3-D: 7”Having been born in the early 1970s, it’stough for me to hearken back to thebeach blanket bingo days of the 1950s,or the psychedelic garage pop experi-ence of the 1960s. I don’t know whenthe Kung Fu Monkeys were born, butthey’ve created a 7” that takes you backdirectly to these bygone eras, and more.“American Beach Party USA (We’reHaving Christmas for Breakfast)” issugary, not saccharine, bubblegum popwith a Beatnik Termites vibe that makesyou wanna bleach your hair, grab a surfboard, and show off for the babes sun-ning themselves in bikinis. “I Dig theWay That You Move” would fit nicelyon a Zombies record or Nuggets compi-

lation. The flip side has tinges of BeatHappening minimalism on the firstsong, finishing off with “Summertimein the Desert,” which I’m thinkinginspired one Todd Taylor to send this tome for review (that and the fact that oneof the guys in the band is, in a remark-able coincidence, called Reno!).“Summertime…” is that tune youwanna hear once the sun has set, thestars are out, and your best girl is snug-gled up beside you. You never want themoment, or song, to end. This is a per-fect piece of underground pop. Highlyrecommended. –Josh Benke, CulturalAmbassador (Whoa Oh)

LANGHORNE SLIM: Whenthe Sun’s Gone Down: CDFolk music has not been this good in along time; Langhorne Slim’s debut full-length is filled with finger-pickin’ blue-grass goodness with a dash of rock-’n’roll added to the fairytale. His voiceresembles Tiny Tim’s mixed with theraspy blues vocals of the past, while theguitar and banjo playing flows beauti-fully throughout the record. He singsabout love past and present, misunder-standings, awkwardness, and otheremotional attributes that any one personcan be empathic toward. You wouldn’tthink a twenty-two-year-old man suchas himself could do it all so well, but hecan and does. There have been a ton ofretro-minded artists coming along theselast few years, but I have not heard anyof them (with the exception of TheStarvations) do justice to the past upuntil I heard this album. Listen to “In theMidnight” or “Hope and Fulfillment”and you will understand why. Grab yourbest gal and get ready to shoot your eyesout; this is grade A material. –Mor(Narnack)

LEFT ALONE: Lonely Startsand Broken Hearts: CDLove songs to girlfriends past and pre-sent abound, as do odes to former band-mates and long lost cars, all of which aredished up in steaming turd-piles of poppunk and ska. –Jimmy Alvarado(Hellcat)

LETHAL REJECTION: 2, 1, 2, 2: CDDecent enough mid-‘80s sounding hard-core—not too fast, not too slow, naryany metal to harsh the buzz. Sometimesreminds me of mid-period Poison Ideawithout the intensity. –Jimmy Alvarado(Day 51)

LIDS, THE: Self-titled: CDThis band serves a valuable enoughfunction as sort of a sugar-frosted Loli& The Chones placebo, but 1) i thinkthey ought to pick and choose the timesthat they employ the schtick of the malelead vocals trading off with the chirpyfemale backup vocals a little more judi-ciously (e.g., here’s the first verse/cho-rus dealie from “Something to Do,”with the backup vocals in brackets: Justcan’t wait [CAN’T WAIT!] Been waitin’around all day [ALL DAY!] You say it’sall OK [OK!] In love with you [OHYEAH, OH YEAH, OH YEAH!]. Waytoo late [TOO LATE!] Been waitin’around too late [TOO LATE!] Beenwaitin’ around all day [ALL DAY!] Iwant something to do [OH YEAH, OHYEAH, OH YEAH]. I want... somethingto do [OH YEAH, OH YEAH, OHYEAH!]. I want... something to do [OHYEAH, OH YEAH, OH YEAH!]. Iwant... something to do [OH YEAH, OHYEAH, OH YEAH!]. I want... somethingto do [OH YEAH, OH YEAH, OH

YEAH!]—i mean, it’s cute and cool andall, but give it a f’n break here and there,willya?!); 2) Cripes, write a bridge oncein a while; and 3) i guess i have no othercomplaints, other than the overall feel-ing that i went somewhere for a burgerand came home with a kids’ meal.Chicken fingers are good food, though!BEST SONG: “Something to Do,” iguess, since i took all that time slander-ing it BEST SONG TITLE: “She’s BeenAround” (band is not much for thedying craft of song titlery it appears)FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIAFACT: I can’t look at the disc graphicwithout thinking of the cover of the firstEvery Mother’s Son album. –Rev. Nørb(Rip Off)

LOCUST, THE: Safety Second,Body Last: CDEPHaving read the previous line, youalready know if you are inclined to buythis or not or have any interest in it. Ifyou appreciate spazzy, grindy noisewith lots of screaming, I recommendthis, although this EP—while still TheLocust—seems to be missing something(“Hey wait, dude—it’s the fuckingLocust. They make Napalm Deathsound like Codeine on ‘ludes, man…how can you even tell the fucking differ-ence?” “Well, that’s a fair question. Ithink most music critics would be hard-pressed to identify how, in a case likethis, they distinguish between a qualityrecord and one which doesn’t match up.Frankly—and I realize that this is nor-mal for The Locust—there’s just toomuch keyboard on this disc whichsounds like someone who just shit theirpants squeezing their thighs and asscheeks together to smear the fecesaround. Other records in the genre don’thave as much of that blip-and-twitter,wow-and-flutter synth-grind twaddle.Clear enough?”). –Puckett (Ipecac)

LOCUST, THE: Safety Second,Body Last: CDEP There’s that old joke: Which came first,Combat Wounded Veteran or theLocust? CWV’s Duck Down for theTorso 12” sounded like the Locust if theLocust wanted to get in, get out, andquit fucking around. Anyway, you knowwhat you’re getting here—spastic,crazed, and intrinsically fucked up. Itlooks like there are seven songs on herelyrically, and four or six depending onhow you decipher the back cover tracklisting, but the CD itself only lists twotracks. So maybe the Locust is, like,working in movements now. Which ispossible: this sounds like an orchestrafor a madhouse. Think Ruins or otherJohn Zorn projects, or maybe a littleMelt Banana, couple it with nearly non-sensical, occasionally biting lyrics andyou’ve got Safety Second, Body Last.It’s only ten minutes long but by the endof it I want to pull my own fingers off.So there’s that, at least. –Keith Rosson(Ipecac)

LOS REACTORS: Dead in theSuburbs: CDThis long-defunct (as in 1983 kindadefunct) Tulsa band kinda reminds meof the Diodes, and i’m having troublefiguring out if that’s because of legitmusical similarities or because theDiodes had that song “Death in theSuburbs” or what. Probably a little bit o’both. Anyway, it always makes me a lit-tle happy, in here (thumps ribcage)(coughs up blood), to see bands fromWay Back When get something resem-bling an album out, even if it is twenty-plus years late. I mean, fuck, theydeserve it, and i don’t think a lot of peo-ple these days realize what an impossi-

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ble dream it seemed like Way BackWhen to get an album out. ALL HAILYOUR UNDERDOCUMENTEDEFFORTS, O BAND! That said, i couldpretty much take or leave Los Reactorsmusically—they sound like the basicCentral Time Zone punk/rock/wave ofthe late ‘70s/early ‘80s (i’m really notso sure the perpetually whistling key-boards aren’t just in the way most ofthe time, and the topical subject matter[John Wayne Gacy, Patty Hearst, theShah of Iran] that i’m sure seemedtimeless and edgy and brilliant andirreverent at the time now comes off assome sort of mere cultural identifier,like something from That ‘70s Show orsomething), and, with all due respectfor their efforts (efforts which we stillreap the benefits of today, i might add),when hardcore came along, although itdidn’t exactly kick this type of band tothe curb, per se, it did show it to itsseat... which it took, pretty much neverto be heard from again. It’s unfortunatethat the origins of the various record-ings are so poorly documented here, iwoulda liked to have known when theywrote and recorded the neo-thrasher “IDon’t Wanna Be Like You,” just so’s icould tell if it was like them reading the“hardcore rules!” handwriting on thewall or what... I’d also like to have hadthe liner notes written by a member ofN.O.T.A. or something, just to putthings into historical perspective forme... it certainly couldn’t be any worsethan the existing blather (i mean, theliner note guy calls Los Reactors one ofTulsa’s “most prolific” bands in thesame paragraph he states that the bandonly released two 45s during the fouryears of their existence). Chee! (ofcourse, if the guy who wrote the linernotes actually was in N.O.T.A. unbe-

knownst to me, i apologize to the plan-et) BEST SONG: “You Move Me”BEST SONG TITLE: “Dying PersianMonarch” FANTASTIC AMAZINGTRIVIA FACT: The video doesn’t playin my computer OR my DVD player...but, since it’s Track 01 on the disc, ifyou put it in a CD player and wait awhile, it will play THEE LOUDESTPROLONGED BLAST OF STATICyou have ever heard in your life. I gay-ron-tee! –Rev. Nørb (Rip Off)

LOW POINT DRAINS: Self-titled: 7”Lo-fi trash rock courtesy of a two-manband. I know that in a post-WhiteStripes world such things are a dime adozen anymore, but these guys actuallymanage to pull off some pretty goodtunes. Nice stick figure portrait on thecover, too. –Jimmy Alvarado (Kuriosa)

LUNGFISH: Feral Hymns: CDEvery so often, when the mood strikes,I’ll put on an older Lungfish record.Daniel Higgs writes amazingly poeticlyrics, which, in many cases, is a badthing, but Higgs is a really great lyri-cist. And I love the fact that not only isthis band completely lacking in com-mercial appeal, but they’ve beenaround for something like fifteen yearsand they’re ridiculously obscure. Butmusically, this doesn’t really do any-thing for me. Unlike their Dischordpeers such as Fugazi or Jawbox, who,arty or not, made music that wasdynamic and interesting, Feral Hymnsfinds a slow, drowsy groove and staysthere, and ultimately there’s nothingferal about it. –Josh (Dischord)

MAD COWBOYS: A Fistful ofDirty Dollars: CD

Have you ever wondered what it wouldsound like if the Marked Men wroteand played songs like Propagandhi? Ifso, then this is the disc for you. This isvery politically charged music with analmost lo-fi production value and guitarsound. The vocalist sounded so muchlike a Marked Man that I had to doublecheck… Yep, these guys areCanadians. I enjoyed this quite a bit.–Ty Stranglehold (Mad Cowboys)

MARVEL: Five Smell City: CDNot a bad approximation of that ‘70ssound via the KISS school of glam.Liked it more than I expected to orprobably should. –Jimmy Alvarado(Black Juju)

MARY TIMONY: Ex Hex: CDI loved Mary Timony when she frontedthe storybook fantasyland that wasHelium. In the indie-lovin’ ‘90s, shewas the cool and mysterious dark horsethat sang fantastically odd songs aboutsuperballs, vampires, and medievalpeople. But, just when things were get-ting good, Helium disbanded. Timonysoon ventured into the obligatory solocareer and I stayed behind, content withmy perfect little Helium catalogue. Butwith the release of Ex Hex, Timony’sback in fine form. Angular guitars surfaround in that space between your earsand dreamy vocals whisper you thesweetest rock lullabye. Oh yeah, andthere’s a song about pirates! –KatJetson (Lookout!)

METEORS: These Evil Things: CDI dunno if I’ve outgrown ’em, ifthey’ve lost their sheen, or if I’m justnot in the mood, but these guys justain’t movin’ me like they used to. The

songs are all right as far as psychobillygoes, but they seem to be variants onthe same theme and lacking in oomph.Found myself drawn more to the threeinstrumentals than the tracks withvocals. –Jimmy Alvarado (Headhunter)

MEXICANBLACKBIRDS/PINKSWORDS: Black VinylRevenge, Chapter 1: Split LPThe title line here sounds like somesketchy urban legend from a fictionalcity across the border made into a ‘50sso-bad-you-love-it exploitation flick.This record is also that cool. It com-bines previous CD releases: The Birds’Just to Spite You (2003, Dirtnap) withThe Swords’ One Night High (2003,Mortville). The music fetish factor getseven higher: both have amazing girldrummers from other great bands (Jillfrom Valentine Killers, Suzy Motard),half-black and half-pink vinyl, and onenew live track from each band. Catchy,hard-driving rock. Entire albums oneach side, except the Birds’ “Burn ItDown/Over the Edge” track from theCD is not here. Alas, still an awesomerecord. –Speedway Randy (Rockin’Bones)

MEXICAN BLACKBIRDS:Fear of Texas: 12” EPSmear on some Motards grease andresin, huff some gas with early Zeke,add the smell of burning hair, squeezeand screw in the punk’n’roll pyrotech-nic sensibility of The B-Movie Rats,and you’ve got a close approximationof the Mexican Blackbirds. It’s in thered, the vocalist sounds just short ofbeing strangulated, and it feels liketheir instruments are stabbing you inthe chest while slicing your tendons so

there’s no easy retreat. They’ve defi-nitely learned assault tactics of theirown and aren’t just pickpocketing thebands previous mentioned. Good stuff.It’s growing on me with each listen.–Todd (Mortville)

MICO DE NOCHE: Balls Deep: CDNice’n’sludgy rock/punk stuff here:very noisy with flamenco flourisheshere and there. Wasn’t expecting much,so it was a pleasant surprise that it was-n’t half bad. –Jimmy Alvarado (Violent Hippie)

MILLION DOLLAR MARXISTS: Stop: 7”The cover, for whatever reason, led meto believe that I’d be stumbling intosome lame ass sludge rock; an oldgrunge cassingle being eaten by a tapedeck, some Atomic 61 test-pressing 45being played at 33, you get the idea.Slow. Drrroooooning. Bass-heavy. Letme just say, I was surprised when I putit on and smoke started shooting out ofmy speakers. What we’ve got here issome burner-hot garage rock a la—Idon’t know—the Chinese Millionairesor the Screaming Bloody Marys. Thefact that there are only two songs onthis: lame. The two songs themselves:pretty goddamn ripping. A bit of freshblood here in a genre that at timesseems to be sagging and stumbling itsway out of the bar. Thanks, guys.–Keith Rosson (Blue Bus)

MIRRORS, THE: A Green Dream: CDSome pretty good psych rock here, trueto form, and with a solid ‘60s feel to it.Probably not something you mightwanna put on while you mowing the

lawn or anything, but good listeningnonetheless. –Jimmy Alvarado(Birdman)

MOIST HOST: Self-titled: CDWell, I guess these guys could bepigeonholed as “hardcore,” but thetunes are wildly disjointed and thelyrics are, to put it politely, fuckingweird, man. How weird? To wit:“AIDS killing apes campus style rapeeating Gilbert Grape a celibate retardman celebrates the century attractingwildabeast [sic] licking zebra butt crea-tures on the run hipsters having funbreaking through a patch raping bestialass save the best for last Obi-WanKenobi leader of Nairobi has large gen-itals open up you stupid bich [sic].” Trysinging THAT at your next churchsocial. –Jimmy Alvarado (Butter Flavored)

MOJOMATICS: A SweetMama Gonna Hoodoo Me: CDGood, catchy ‘60s-type tight mod rockfrom this merry duo of Italians dressedin properly creased monochromaticsuits with flashy ties and Quadropheniahair. MojoMatt and DaveMatic bangtheir way through sixteen ass-shakin’swampy punky rootsy bluesy hollerin’tracks. Their imitation and interpreta-tion of American music raises the barfor all Europeans influenced byAmerican music. And their English isimpeccable –Jessica T (Alien Snatch)

MR. PLOW: Mad Plow Disease: CDDo you like GG Allin? How aboutRaffi? Have you ever heard what thetwo would sound like if mixed togeth-er? Enter Mr. Plow! Acoustic punk rockdirtiness that will have you crying with

laughter at every turn. Why try anddescribe it when I can let the song titlesspeak for themselves. “CrackheadMomma,” “Are You Really a Guy?”,and “Morning Boner” are obviouslylove songs while “Officer BJ,” “BitchSlap Me Face,” and “Meat TruckCarnival” are just songs about life inEast Vancouver. Oh, and bonus pointsfor taking Joey Shithead up on his dareto write a song about him (“DOA”).The best in feel good, scuz-rockacoustichaos! –Ty Stranglehold(Crusty)

MUMMIES OF THE INSANE: Self-titled: CDI’ll bet you these guys smoke a SHIT-LOAD of marijuana. I wish I was intosmokin’ weed—it mighta made listen-ing to this a little less tedious, though itis good for a few laughs. “CivilizedExistence” boasts the line “Sit upright,you damn dirty ape!” and “Parasite”sounds like the music to a video gameon the technologically cutting-edgeAtari 2600. “Fuck Your Mummy,”despite the great title, is little more thanR2D2 noises and a rhythm section toofucked up to play together. Lots ofneedless instrumental farting around,taking their cues from Sebadoh’s FreedWeed but without any of the redeemingindie qualities of that record. Avoid thisstinker. –Josh Benke, CulturalAmbassador (Slutfish)

MURDER YOUR DARLINGS:Self-titled: CDLoud, brash rock’n’roll that would givesome o’ them Scandinavian rockertypes a run for their money. –JimmyAlvarado (Reptilian)

MUTINY: Rum Rebellion: CDThe Irish sounds of the Pogues orFlogging Molly has now gone interna-tional. Out of Australia comes thepirate sounds of Mutiny. A combinationof three women and two men, this bandbangs out a mighty good time withtheir brand of Celtic punk. Vocal dutiesare handled by two of the women andthe gent on drums, which is good tokeep things fresh in a sound that canget overdone quickly. They expel aspirit of fun that makes me want to goto the refrigerator right now and crackopen a cold one. Relying more onacoustic instruments gives the band atraditional feel and adds to the rawnessof the recording. I wonder how hard itis to learn how to play a tin whistle.–Donofthedead (Fistolo)

NARRATOR, THE: Such Triumph: CDSeeing as 1) those responsible appearto be male; 2) there are drawings of kit-ties, doggies, and flowers on the cover,I think it’s patently clear what kind ofmusic can be expected from this.Gonna hafta be extra diligent in clean-ing my ears with a wire brush after lis-tening to this. –Jimmy Alvarado(Flameshovel)

NEED NEW BODY: Where’s Black Ben?: CDFunky white boy rap, sound bits, andimprovisational noise jams abound, butit still wasn’t all that interesting.–Jimmy Alvarado (5RC)

NEGATIVLAND:No Business: CDNegativland, if you don’t know, are agroup of audio-collagists who have, for

something like twenty-five years,assembled found sounds (from radio,old records, etc.) into their “composi-tions,” and gotten sued at least oncealong the way for copyright infringe-ment or something to that effect.Negativland, if you DO know… well,you probably know more than I do,because they never did a whole lot forme other than the Weatherman’s spokenstuff whose voice I could listen to alldang day, even the longest day of theyear. Due to their legal troubles, they’vebecome champions of the idea that cul-ture’s products should be available forlater cultural workers (read: “artists” ofvarious sorts) to use as building blocks.In other words (among other things),that sampling (specifically in music, asanalogous processes in other disciplinesare generally fair game and unregulatedin the way music is) should not be acrime. No Business, as progression ofthat philosophy, is the first Negativlandwork to be COMPLETELY composedof components from other sources;nothing original to Negativland is onhere. And it’s funny as hell. EthelMerman blasting (I think that’s the wordfor sounds coming out of EthelMerman) “There’s no business likestealing,” and Julie Andrews’ favoritethings folded asunder (“crisp eyelash-es,” “brown raindrops”) are highlights,but there’s a dense wall of this stuff foryou to lean against. Also, there’s a fifty-page book (not to mention a specialwhoopee cushion) which explains veryclearly Negativland’s position on copy-right, the potential benefits and pitfallsof the internet regarding music distribu-tion and intellectual property rights, andeven what’s wrong with America’s cor-porate law that drives greed and bullshitfrom the top down. No Business may

not be the best introduction toNegativland for the uninitiated (thenagain, it may; I’m no expert), but as apackage, it’s going to be a worthy addi-tion to any free-thinking person’s pile ofstuff. –Cuss Baxter (Seeland)

NERVOUS PATTERNS:Beautiful Brutal, You Can’tChange: one-sided 7”The Nervous Patterns inhibit that tightlywound, anxious universe of the LostSounds (along with sharing members),where circuit boards in your brain rustand the sound of something big andstrong breaking in wrong ways, leakinga mysterious fluid permeates the firstsong. Makes me think of androids madeof meat, in revolt, working onKraftwerk songs with their fists. Thesecond song, “You Can’t Change” iswhat I wish they’d played at my prominstead of the theme song to “St. Elmo’sFire.” It’s swelling, aching, tender, batsabout bright Cure-like guitars, andtwines them around mournful but hope-ful female vocals. The second side isblank; needle just zipped right across it.–Todd (Zaxxon Virile Action)

NIKMAT OLALIM: Self-Devouring Land: 7” EPIsraeli hardcore with lyrics condemningthe Israeli government, conscription,shitty jobs, and blindly following ide-ologies. The inside of the cover alsoincludes two essays, one about how theconcept of anti-Semitism is abused byIsraeli hardliners and the government tojustify its actions, and another entitled“Did You Ever Think What It’s Like toShoot Somebody in the Head?” Nodoubt this release is sure to cause quitea stir in the band’s home country. Muchrespect to them for having the balls to be

a political punk band in a place wherehaving a point of view that doesn’t fol-low the party line could render a personvery dead. –Jimmy Alvarado (Boshet)

NOFX: There’s No Fun inFundamentalism b/w Fungus,I’m a Huge Fan of BadReligion: 7”I’ll admit it right off the bat that I’mprejudiced. I don’t like rich people.Pretty much hate ‘em. Class war.There’s a line you do not cross. Thattype of thing. Fat Mike’s probably theonly millionaire I actually admire.Because he could take the easy routeout. By some lucky horseshoe, NOFXhas had the suburbs in the palm of theirhands for over a decade. And instead ofjust going out and peddling some shoesat the Warped Tour, he makes it plainand simple (and funny, and catchy) onthe A-side that dogmatism in religion isunequivocally fucked. (Priests molest-ing children and how many MiddleEastern religions treat women are twoeasy examples.) And if that shakes somekid up—who’s stuck in the stucco night-mare inside the bowels of a plannedcommunity to a new way of looking—awesome. The b-side’s a throwaway.Khaki-colored vinyl. –Todd (Fat)

NORTH LINCOLN: Truth Is a Menace: CDI’m sure these guys are so sick of hear-ing this by now (or entirely proud), butmemories of hearing the first few HotWater Music records come to mind rightaway. The driving, medium-tempoanthems do well as a follow up to agenre that ended before it began. I canpicture a basement full of kids, fistpumping through every chorus. Even

though I made a heavy comparison to aband that has left its roots far behind,North Lincoln still has a style that istheir own. I’ve been listening to theseguys for a few years via many reviewpackages, and they continue to growand better themselves. This is theirstrongest release and fans of the band orthe genre should not be disappointed.–Newtim (No Idea)

NRA: Machine: CDThese seniors of the Amsterdam sceneare back with a new record and distrothrough Gearhead in the USA. Themusic is great pop punk that carries thesame feelings of later Ramones recordsand even reminds me at times of JChurch with a touch of rock’n’roll. Thechoruses are all catchy. It’s one of thoserecords that, at first listen, it just blendsinto punk homogeny, but after a few lis-tens it really digs into your brain and,days later, some song will be playing inyour head that you just can’t place. Thetune you can’t get out of your headsounds like a bunch of bands, and youreally dig the song, but you just can’tfigure out what the hell it is. Then whenyou finally remember listening to thisrecord it dawns on you that these guysare really good. –Newtim (Gearhead)

OPERATION CLIFF CLAVIN:Out of Control (A Discographyof the ‘90s): CDI just can’t believe how often theOperation Cliff Clavin CDs go out ofprint and then warrant a repress. Nowthat’s a cult following! This timearound, there are even MORE songsthan before and a nifty li’l live DVD.I’m glad to have gotten this though, oth-erwise I never would have heard theanti-Star Wars song, called “C3PO Can

Suck My Ass,” and the two amazingcovers: one of the Misfits song“Astrozombies” and the other of theoldies hit “Blue Moon.” –Mr. Z (Plan-it-X)

OPPRESSED, THE: Won’t Say Sorry: 2 x CDLong-running skinhead band that hasbeen a favorite, compile some coversthat run the gamut on this release. Theypay homage to Jamaican legendsSimaryp, the 4 Skins, the Clash, Eddieand the Hot Rods, Sham 69, CockneyRejects, Slade, and others who camebefore them. I can’t believe how maycovers this band has recorded. Makesme want to break out the hair clippersand shave the head, followed by clean-ing things up with a razor and dustingoff the fourteen-hole Doc Martins, grab-bing a wife beater out of the dresser,pulling out the suspenders out of the boxof clothes I haven’t worn in a couple ofdecades, and trying to squeeze into atight pair of pegged jeans. There are somany classics covered with competen-cy. Worthy of the price of purchase arethe two versions of the oi classic,“Skinhead Girl.” –Donofthedead(Insurgence)

ORPHANS, THE: Electric S b/w W.W.W.D.: 7”Live, the Orphans dominate. Wade, thebass player, is unplugged half the time,busy on conking someone over the headwith his stand and swinging his bass likea bat on a rope. Jenny can’t stand still,and is often cleaning the floor with herback as she slithers around, the arc ofher prowling defined by the length ofher mic cord. Brandon’s an absolutebasher. Dann doesn’t move too much,but it’s really a mind trick because he

gets so much sound out of what’s he’splaying, like he’s got a secret third handthat no one else can see. Live: awesome.On record: on par awesomeness. What’ssometimes not obvious live (via okayPA and the limitations of DIY) is thathow layered their songs really are.Smart, hardcore leads are snuggled upto blunt garage. Tricky little bridges andintros tie them altogether, so there’sboth considerable weight to the obvious“fuck-you-ity” and nimble movement tokeep it far and away from being gener-ic. Say, for purely hypothetical reasons,The Orphans came out in L.A. in ’77.They’d be neck and neck with TheBags, The Screamers, and The Weirdos.Being that it’s 2005 and L.A.’s fracturedall to hell, punk’s getting dirty andneglected again, and not as many peopleare paying attention, do yourself a favorand pick up one of the finest 7”s thisyear will likely see and people will beseeking out for years to come. –Todd(Vinyl Dog)

ORPHANS, THE: Electric S b/w W.W.W.D.: 7”Remember the time you drank so muchcough syrup at that Oblivians show thatyou puked up cigarette butts onto thehood of somebody’s car and then youwoke up the next morning on a pile oftrash with a black eye and somebodyelse’s pants on? This is like two songs ofthat. –Josh (Vinyl Dog)

PARTISANS, THE: Self-titled: CDHere’s another band I knew only fromassorted compilations and never reallythought much of, but I gotta say, thiswas some pretty good stuff. Fairly polit-ical English punk that thrashes alongquite nicely and has enough attitude to

appeal to cactus heads and baldies alike.This is a reissue of their first album,with assorted singles tracks tacked onand some really good liner notes to giveyou an idea where these guys and girlwere coming from. All in all, a greatintroduction to a band I now wish I’dpaid more attention prior to. –JimmyAlvarado (Captain Oi)

PEPPERMINTS, THE: Jesus Chryst: CDI generally avoid bands that sound likethey’re trying to be the Melvins, butwhen a band can sound sort of like theMelvins without sounding like they’reactually trying to do so, and whenthey’re seventy-five percent ladies toboot, I’m on board like Gord(on).Retarded record title notwithstanding(the last one was called Sweet ToothAbortion—much better), thePeppermints’ bluntly sparkling exercisein thud power is a solid monolith ofintention, and not inept, loose, noisy orshrill in any way. –Cuss Baxter (Paw Tracks)

PHANTOM LIMBS: Random Hymns: CDEPWay too fuckin’ short for my taste, butany new material from one of the bestpunk/death rock bands on the planet ismore than appreciated. Their sound isall mohawked clowns wreaking havocin the midst of one truly wicked fuckingcarnival. Mr. Dark in Bradbury’sSomething Wicked This Way Comeswould no doubt be cranking this up toeleven. If by some fluke you’ve man-aged to miss hearing anything by theseguys, I suggest you rectify the situationimmediately. –Jimmy Alvarado (GSL)

PLANO: Brigadoon: CDWeird soundtrack music for B-movie

films that span the time of the ‘60sthrough the ‘80s. –Donofthedead (Mint)

PLASTIC CONSTELLA-TIONS, THE: Mazatlan: CDI realize that dissing this band is theequivalent, to some, of pissing napalmon one of Minnesota’s sacred indiecows, but this form of angular indierock isn’t the one that does anything forme. The musical parts seem to changeevery half-second or so and there’s toomuch pointless noodling here (andfrankly, the chops aren’t that technical);it’s basically the post-punk equivalent ofprog rock. When combined with thevocals—which sometimes verge on rapand otherwise take their cues from all ofpost-core—there just isn’t much herefor me to like. For fans of whateverpost-core indie darling happens to be therage right now. –Puckett (2024 Records)

PLATE-O-SHRIMP/THE UNSTUCK: Split: 7” Plate-o-Shrimp: Their website describesthem as “high-energy punk-style/power-pop rock,” and I guess that’s accurate,based on what’s here. The one originaland cover of DOA’s “Fuck You” hereain’t bad, but not quite memorable,either. The Unstuck: Punk rock, poppyin an un-bad way, catchy in a head-bob-bing way. The Unstuck win this round.–Jimmy Alvarado (www.plate-o-shrimp.com)

PLAYERS CLUB:Coextinction: CDI think that when one picks up a CD bya group that calls themselves the PlayersClub, it’s perfectly valid to expect rapmusic and not post-Helmet/Unsanesludge metal. Shit, now I gotta put myKangol and Adidas away, cuz theseguys be bringin’ the wrong noise.–Jimmy Alvarado (Arclight)

PLEASE MR. GRAVEDIG-GER: Throw a Beat: CDEPArty skronk rock. Songs are short,vocals are screamed; you know the drill.–Jimmy Alvarado (Pluto)

PLEASE MR. GRAVEDIG-GER: Throw a Beat: CDEPYeah, yeah, yeah. I fucking get italready. You scream a lot, play angularguitar lines and throw in somechoogling keyboard lines for good mea-sure. Slow it down a little and it soundslike electro-clash to me—the Numbers,maybe? Erase Errata? I’m sure theremust be some bastardized new wave ofno-wave connection that I’m missing,but this just sounds like jumping on thebandwagon of a trend that’s alreadyover and wasn’t hugely interesting tobegin with. –Puckett (Pluto)

POINTED STICKS: Perfect Youth: CDDon’t let the name fool you into think-ing this is a hardcore band. This is the25th anniversary re-issue of some of thebest Canadian pop with punk sensibili-ties (spiky pop) ever released. I put thisup on a pedestal with The Go-Go’sBeauty and the Beat, The Vapors NewClear Day, and Elvis Costello’s My AimIs True. Non-sappy, exciting, timeless(well, two and half decades with no signof obvious wear) pop that, if you’re inthe mood to sing along to instead ofshaking your fist to, you can’t go wrongwith. Great for dates, also great as“ambassador music,” music you canintroduce to people who “don’t reallylike punk,” so they’ll soften up a littlebit before you turn up the heat. Geeknotes: Dimwit, drummer of theSubhumans, joined them pretty early onand the songs off of their 7” are thebonus tracks. –Todd (Sudden Death)

POTSHOT: Dance to thePotshot Record: CDThis is their fifth full length? Wherehave I been? Not that I have been thebiggest fan of ska lately, but this bandfrom Tokyo plays some fun stuff thatreminded me of Screeching Weasel,Beatnik Termites, and a little bit of theQueers if you added some horns. Catchychoruses of bad Engrish mixed withsome solid fun. It really brings me backto the ‘90s when I really loved this kindof stuff. I really could dance to thisrecord, but not in public. That would beembarrassing! –Donofthedead (Asian Man)

PRINCESS: Self-titled: CDTheir website claims that Princess “will-fully pushes musical contradiction andconfusion to its elegant limits,” and Ican go along with that to a fair degree. Itkinda reminds me of early Devo meet-ing hip-hop sensibility with some JohnZorn thrown in for flavor. (Or, is thatflava?) Those around me right nowclaim that its experimental nature getsannoying because they’re trying toohard to be clever, and at times that’strue. Intentional enjambment of at-oddsmusical stylings can be hit or miss;when this hits, I’m enraptured, andwhen it misses I go racing for the skipbutton. –The Lord Kveldulfr (TonyChaos)

RAT BYTE: Self-titled: 7” These guys have a thing for early ‘80shardcore and it shows in their songwrit-ing—not too fast, no metal pollution inthe guitars, and plenty of teenagepissed-offness to go around. Nice to seea song called “Fuck the Cops” on a punkrecord again. –Jimmy Alvarado (FNS)

REAL LOSERS, THE: Gimme Action: 7”Geez, by looking at the cover art—withthe heads of this boy-girl-boy band past-ed atop tiny cartoon character bodies—i’d expect something a little more maltshoppe oriented, like Junior Varsity; atbare minimum, sort of a barely compe-tent Rock & Roll Adventure Kids typething. Imagine the bedlam and tumultthat erupted when the needle hit thevinyl and—after one brief delay when ichecked to see if the needle had fuzz onit or something (always a good sign)—iwas bombarded with a bunch o’ fuzzed-out-to-fuck, needles-so-far-into-the-red-that-they’re-now-going-the-other-way-on-the-color-circle-and-are-now-into-the-magenta pounding (and when i say“pounding,” i don’t speak metaphorical-ly—the drummer only uses a snare, acymbal, and a floor tom. That leaves lit-tle room for paradiddles and the like)that sounds like what The Go’s crazyteenage siblings might let loose in thebasement when they got home fromtheir after-school jobs of picking upcandy bar wrappers strewn along theroadsides where Stooges trod—with, ofcourse, just enough Kennedy/Johnson-era kitsch flowing thru the proceedingsto keep it reet. Thank you sir, may i haveanother? BEST SONG: “Rejected at theHigh School Dance” BEST SONGTITLE: “Dum Dum Baby” FANTAS-TIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: This isthe best sleeve AND the best record igot to review this issue, so whomeversaid that you can’t judge a book by itscover can go fuck himself. –Rev. Nørb(High School Reject)

REASON OF INSANITY: Self-titled: LPThis record is a wonderful time machinethat will swoop you back to 1987 anddrop you smack dab in the middle of thepit at a DRI/Cryptic Slaughter show.Everything is perfect, from the so-bad-it-rules Pushead-inspired study hallnotebook doodle artwork to the badass,blown-out production and LOTS andLOTS of songs. Fuck this new-schoolshit of four songs on a seven inch. Thismonster has twenty-eight motherfuck-ing songs on it. Lyrics about killingcops, fucking the man, nuclear war, youknow how it goes. It even has one ofthose sweet collage inserts with showflyers and drunk fat dudes and wickedpits and the whole bit. This record istotally fun and if you like fun you willtotally like this record. –Ben Snakepit(Psycho Wolf, no address)

RIISTETYT: Kahleet: 7” The latest from these guys, who appearto have reshifted their focus back toplaying the straight ahead hardcore thatmade ’em all those millions back in the‘80s. There’s a bit more Discharge in themix than I remember them having, butdamn if it ain’t sweet as hell when youhear someone put that influence to gooduse. This is destined to be a classic, aswell it should be. –Jimmy Alvarado(Havoc)

RIISTETYT: Tuomiopäivä: 7”A reissue of an EP by this highlyrespected Finnish band, first recordedback in 1984 and released in 1991. Notas metallic as some of their later stuff,this is just pure, undiluted hardcore,pissed off and taking no prisoners. Thepressing is limited to 2550 copies, sostart scrambling for it before it slipsback into obscurity again. –JimmyAlvarado (Havoc)

RIISTETYT: Valtion Vankina: LPSkitsofrenia: 12” EPIn a generous move akin to getting fivehundred free boxes of peanut butter GirlScout cookies, Havoc offers up reissuesof this venerable band’s first album and12” EP, both from 1983 and, frankly, theworld is suddenly a better place. Fromits opening cover of the Varukers’“Protest and Survive” to the closing“Kukaan El Välitä,” Valtion Vankina isFinnish thrash of the highest order, theaural equivalent of being slappedaround for a few days by a four-thou-sand-pound gorilla with a toothache. Itsunrelenting ferocity has withstood thetest of time and could easily hold itsown against damn near any hardcoreband currently walking the planet.While it isn’t wound up quite as tight,Skitsofrenia is no less crucial a listen,with more than its share of wild, ener-getic thrashing, supplemented by theoccasional slower-burning tune to staveoff any potential eruptions of sponta-neous combustion. I gotta remember togive Felix Havoc a hug and thank himprofusely if ever I meet him for bringingthese, and so many other fjordcore clas-sics from the likes of Kaaos, back fromobscurity, even if it is in this case foronly five-hundred copies of each.Maybe I’ll send a couple of boxes ofGirl Scout cookies instead. So mandato-ry for the collection that to even say sois a wasted effort. –Jimmy Alvarado(Havoc)

ROSA: I Mississippi You: CDRefreshing acoustic punk with a countrytwinge and a wink of an eye. –Mr. Z(Plan-it-X)

ROSEMARY’S BABIES:Talking to the Dead: CDCollected here are what I’m assumingconstitute the complete sessions thatresulted in the band’s 1983 Blood Lust7” EP, plus some live tracks recorded atCBGB around the same time. What youget is twenty-five tracks of east coasthardcore that is very much of its timefrom a group whose biggest claims tofame is that they come from the sameNJ scene that spawned the Misfits andthat their drummer was none other thanEerie Von, who went on to play bass inSamhain and Danzig. While they soundnothing like their more famous neigh-bors, they do have a certain charm oftheir own, as evidenced by songs like“Let’s Molest 10-Year-Olds,” “FakeBabies,” “Alice in Murderland” and“Attack of the 50-Foot Cowboy.” Onlydownside to this is that, unlike the orig-inal EP, the cover of this ain’t hand col-ored. Bummer. –Jimmy Alvarado(Ghastly)

ROTTEN FRUITS, THE:Abomination: 7”Holy crap! Did The Evaporators moveto Chicago to start a “homocore” band?Seriously, this singer sounds so muchlike our own beloved Nardwuar TheeHuman Serviette, that it’s scary. Ratherthan sing about cheese addictions, rash-es and obscure Canadian historical odd-ities, The Rotten Fruits sing about beinggay, and having sex with skinhead boys.The record isn’t bad, but I just can getpast how much it sounds like The ‘Vaps.–Ty Stranglehold (Criminal IQ)

ROUE: Upward Heroic Move: CDSkronky art rock. No big whoop.–Jimmy Alvarado (Exit Stencil)

RUBBERMIILK ORCHES-TRA: When in Rome(Revolution): CDQuirky trampoline dorkcore with rub-bery bass lines and space lab guitarnoodling and post-modernistic vocalstylings. In other words: Primus junior.As it turns out, I found out a long timeago that my God-given allotment forliking this overly carbonated kind ofrock music is one-album’s-worth—andthat was used up with Primus’ FrizzleFry album long, long ago. Now thisstuff just mostly makes me dizzy andgives me gas. Sorry fellas, this just isn’tmy cup of pork soda. –Aphid Peewit(Chocolate Stain)

SADDLE TRAMPS: Nashville Swinger: CDWait’ll the big guns get a whiff of thisone. The Saddle Tramps are on par withlegendary gold-standard groups likeBR5-49, Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash,the Derailers, Shaver, the Paladins, andthe Blasters—well-balanced and well-written country rock. Capable of pound-ing out spaghetti westerns, blisteringpsychobilly, and Mariachi/ Norteño-infused country (Tex-Mex), the bandrounds out their sound with a light-hearted wit similar to Robbie Fulks andthe swaggering confidence associatedwith Twistin’ Tarantulas. Snicker-induc-ing titles include: “How Can I Say ILove You (with a Shotgun in MyMouth)?” “My Dick’s Too Big,”“Cotton Pony Express,” and “(You Putthe) Cunt in Country.” They’ve alsothrown in a surprising cover of theVandals’ “Susanville.” Live with threestudio tracks. –Jessica T (Split 7)

SCRUBS, THE: Return to the Basement: CDPainfully plain Midwest-mall emo punkwatered down for the most suburban ofappetites. Nice guys finish last. –Jessica T (Nice Guy)

SHAKIN’ NASTIES/THE HATE PINKS: Split 7”Shakin’ Nasties: They’ve got a nice bal-ance between the modern beach punksound (a la Hostage Records), mixingsnideness with sharpness, and splint itwith the best trappings of new wave:tight transitions, great interludes, andspot-on songwriting. They made methink of a stylish suicide. Everything’swell ordered, but feels fatalistic.Hatepinks: French version of the Briefs,which isn’t bad at all. They’ve got thesnot, sarcasm, and the bounce in spades,and with catchy song titles like “KissingCops with My Ass,” they’re fun to humto when you’re getting groceries. Notessential, but fun nonetheless. The pack-aging is great. Clear insert over a full-color cover gives it a ton of dimension,and it’s on thick vaseline-clear vinyl.–Todd (Relax-O-Matic Vibrator)

SHARK SOUP: Self-titled: CDEPPsychobilly from Germany with onepart stand up bass, one part guitar, andone part drums to create a trio; more funthan the Stray Cats and in league withTiger Army. I’m grateful that this wasreleased in the EP format instead of afull length. With songs not clocking inmore than three minutes, this is an easyand enjoyable listen. –Donofthedead(Shark Soup)

SHATTERED FAITH:Bootleg: CDOkay, gripes first: 1) What is this insis-tence in using the version of “Right Is

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Right” with the guitar intro cut off? Ifthe original master wasn’t availablewith the intro intact, why not find apristine copy of the second Rodney onthe Roq comp and use that instead?Most perplexing of all, who decidedstarting off the disc with that song wasa good idea? 2) Why are the Life Is…comp tracks absent and replaced withthe vastly inferior Volume 2 versions?Goblin did a fine job singing on them,and one of ’em, “The Omen,” isn’t rep-resented here at all. 3) Given the num-ber of rarities that didn’t make it onhere, why the inclusion of so muchstuff readily available on the CD GTAput out a couple of years ago? Seemslike such a waste, you know? Now thatI’ve gotten that out of the way, let mesay that any collection highlightingShattered Faith’s “golden era” is frig-gin’ mandatory listening. Althoughmuch is missing here, the fact that theinclusion of all the tracks from TheFuture Looks Bright comp,“Discontent” from the Who Carescomp, and one of the two tracks fromthe Destroy L.A. comp make this aninvaluable addition to the collection ofany self-respecting punker. Bitchingaside, I’m stoked as hell to hear thesesongs again. –Jimmy Alvarado (Finger)

SHITGIVEITS, THE: Let’s Get Shitfaced: CDEPIt’s hard to place exactly what theseguys have been influenced by. It defi-nitely reminds me of a mixture of earlyGrimple with the bass lines and hints ofpop. I can also tell these guys like theMeatmen because of the over-the-toplyrics and early ‘80s hardcore style.The recording is shitty, but it’s hard-core, so it works. A few songs are sungand a few screamed. There are a few

songs where they throw in some blastbeats. This is a decent hardcore recordthat brings the early ‘80s and early ‘90sstyles together nicely. This looks like abootleg of some early stuff, becausethere are notes saying this was record-ed in ‘94 and ‘96. I wouldn’t call itgroundbreaking, but I’m pretty into it.–Newtim (In Your Face)

SHITGIVETS, THE: Vicious Circles and American Dreams: CDMediocre hardcore/crusty punk. So-sorecording. But I can’t be a hater,because I’ve probably made demos thatsounded exactly like this. –Mr. Z (Loudand in Your Face)

SHIVER: Last Rides of theMidway: CDAn excellent recording of a whollyunremarkable pop punk band. Kudos toBilly Stevenson and Jason Livermorefor their ability to make even the mun-dane sound good. –Jimmy Alvarado(Da Core)

SHOP FRONTS: Self-titled: 7” Decent punk rock with enough thud tomake it interesting, but not enoughoomph to make it crucial. Compared tosome of the other amazing releases thislabel is responsible for, this was a bit ofa letdown. Not that the band sucked oranything, but I was just expecting out-right amazing considering the source.–Jimmy Alvarado (Rapid Pulse)

SKIT SYSTEM: Enkel ResaTill Rännstenen: LPA reissue of a record the band releasedin 2001, this is a fine example of mod-ern Scandinavian hardcore at its heavi-est. These guys take the requisite

Discharge influence and just fuckingrun with it in a direction that just pum-mels the senses like until all that’s leftof you when you’re done is a quiveringblob of flesh colored Jell-O.Recommended. –Jimmy Alvarado(Havoc)

SLANDERIN’: A Rumba of Rattlesnakes, A Murder of Crows: CDThis band is very popular—but heavilyformulaic and predictable. Nearlyredeeming quality: the lead singer(Chrisian Slander) has that instantlypanty-creaming, come-here-dirty-whore gravelly voice, just likeDemented Are Go. That just sends meevery time. But not enough to keep lis-tening to this album. Tangent: Onething that bothers me about psycho isthat a lot of singers think they have tosing forcefully like this to be psycho—but there are scant few who can actual-ly pull it off. So please, sing withinyour range and don’t force it. It’sunnatural for most of you. –Jessica T(Split 7)

SLEDGEHAMMER: Your Arsonist: CDWay too much metal, way too littleoriginality, and way too unimaginativeto warrant a second listen. If I wannahear aggressive music involving metalof any kind, I’ll put on EinstürzendeNeubauten’s first album. –JimmyAlvarado (Martyr)

SLOPPY MEATEATERS:Conditioned by the LaughTrack: CDMusic marketed for the Hot Topic setthat gives me the same sinking feelingwhen I see bands like Simple Plan or

Good Charlotte marketed as punk.–Donofthedead (Orange Peel)

SLOW POISONERS:Melodrama: CDThe Slow Poisoners are campy buttheir delivery of this shtick-y art-rock isdeadpan, theatrical, and strangely, itworks. It is melodrama—I feel like Ishould have worn my ostrich-featheredhat and paid for a dim candlelit dinnerof Cornish game hen with bread pud-ding and a tinkling glass of sherrywhile the actors pantomime behind thesheet stretched across the stage. Thissensation plus the Mystery!-esque songtitles (“Act Two: Nefarious Deeds,”“He Who Gets Slapped”) and player-piano ditties leaves the impression thatthis is solely a performance theatre duowho would change direction with theGrand Perseverance of the MostNortherly Wind. Why invest long-termin such unpredictable behavior?–Jessica T (Roctopus!, no address)

SNAKEBITE: Every Bad IdeaIs a Good Idea: 7”“RRRAAAWWWR!!” is how thisrecord starts off. Fast, pissed-off, goodol’ New Jersey hardcore. I love thiskinda shit. It makes me feel like I feltwhen I saw Tear It Up in 2002. Ah, thegood ol’ days. It’s got a cool WinstonSmith-looking collage artwork, good,angry lyrics, and blistering production.There used to be a shitload of bandslike this, but it kinda seems like thethrashcore fad is dying out. Good forSnakebite, ‘cause they’re too good toget lumped in as just another genericthrash band. They’re better than that,and this record is the fucking proof.This is music to punch out windows to.–Ben Snakepit (Don Giovanni)

SNUFF: Six of One, Half aDozen of the Other: 2 x CDI was first introduced to Snuff via theAbbey Raid 1: Fuck EMI comp LP thatcame out, I believe, in the late ‘80s. Onwhat label? I don’t know and I’m look-ing at the record right now. They playthe Tommy James and the Shondellssong “I Think We’re Alone Now.” Ithought it was brilliant. Most of the stuffthat was coming out of the UK that Iwas listening to was more crossovermetal or thrash. To hear a band playwith so much melody, but still had therawness of punk fascinated me. When Isaw a copy of their first 7” NotListening, I bought it without thinkingtwice. I’m not good at being a com-pletist when it comes to record collect-ing, but I have about fifteen differentSnuff releases, including some of theoffshoots like Guns and Wankers and aDogpiss CD. They are on my all-timefavorite list of bands. They are outsideof the cookie cutter of bands and are aband that stands the test of time. Youcan listen to one of their early releasesand listen to a current one and they bothare incredibly enjoyable. So disc one isa good sampling for a greatest hits.Enjoyable from start to finish. Not astinker in the bunch. Disc two is a realtreat. It has so many tracks that I havenot heard before: B-sides of singles Idon’t own, unreleased tracks and bonustracks from records that I never knewexisted. But to make things go full cir-cle, the first track is “I Think We’reAlone Now.” Even though it is refer-enced that it was on the Lie to Mecomp, I know this has been on a num-ber of comps through the years. Buthearing a cover of Macy Gray’s “I Try”made me grin like a monkey with a

banana. I’m not real big on greatest hitspackages, but this one was done rightand is quite enjoyable. Now if theywould only come back to the statesagain to tour. –Donofthedead (Fat)

SNUFF: Six of One, Half aDozen of the Other: 2 x CDWhere do I start with Snuff? Well, Iwas led to them in ’94 when told thatthey shared members with Leatherface.That was enough for me so I went outand got Demmamussabebonk… Andthen all the other records as fast as Icould. Yep, Snuff is one of those bandsthat can wrench just about any emotionout of me but in the end leave me want-ing more and more. Disc one covers the“hits” quite well. Well-rounded and agood listen. Disc two is the gravy forfans. It’s got all that Snuff crazinessthat we know and love (live antics,wacky covers and just plain goodsongs) and more. Highly recommend-ed. The whole package is a great wayfor someone to get into the band, but Iwould really suggest getting all of therecords NOW! –Ty Stranglehold (Fat)

SOME GIRLS: The DNA WillHave It’s Say: CDEP(Super-Extended Rock Critic CodeineTrance Mix)I haven’t figured out everything I needto say about this record yet; I usuallyhave an album or two that I strugglewith every year and this time, it’sbecause these six minutes are simplytoo fucking dense to parse on even thetwentieth or thirtieth listen. Perhaps it’sbecause these sounds are the auralembodiment of how I’m feeling lately;next Monday, I’m heading in for mysecond operation in less than a month

to try to fix some serious health prob-lems. The ferocious, grisly sounds onthis EP mirror the recent horror of mybody—spitting hemorrhaged blood intothe sink, looking at MRIs of cranialbone erosion, coughing up unidentifi-able masses of solid organic matter thatare the shape and size of the first twoknuckles of my little finger. My body,at the moment, exists somewherebetween the abject and the Kristevansense of the other; this EP falls alongsimilar lines, both alienated and alien-ating, ostracized and ostracizing. It isthe other side of pop music, thedeformed thalidomide twin revealing(and revering) the ugliness which isglossed over by production values andmarketing strategies. To understandwhat it sounds like, imagine running anindustrial meatgrinder at full poweruntil it starts to smoke and rattle, until itbreaks down completely—and fill itwith anguished yelps and screams. Itsounds like warfare—the sound ofmachine guns and dying soldierscaught in concertina wire. It is openlyhostile and abrasive; it is guitar-drivenand grinding. It is musical dermabra-sion for boring ideas expressed in dullways by uninteresting people and in adecade in which some punk bands haveessentially become collaborators, themusical equivalent of the Vichy French(and still more seem to aspire to thatcapitulation), Some Girls defiantlythrow potato mashers whilst engaged indoor-to-door partisan combat. This is,effectively, musical terrorism in anysense that matters. It is also the onlylogical response to contemporarymusic—the proper reaction to bland-ness is a sprint to an extreme, to seekout new terrain and leave the old world

behind and the new ground unmapped.Let others follow at their own risk;whether they also find the way is irrel-evant because they will find somethingnew regardless. In many ways, SomeGirls occupies similar music space asother seditious musical minds likeAlbert Ayler, John Coltrane, CharlieParker, Archie Shepp, and OrnetteColeman—not in the musical style, butthe approach, in the sense that some-thing more is going on or could be hap-pening and that ignoring what is knownand staring into the abyss may revealexactly what that is while teetering onthe edge of chaos. These songs spillover with dizzyingly complex musicalideas; like a reservoir well past capaci-ty. Rather than explore an idea or two,Some Girls throws a mass of conceptsinto a blender and liquefies thembeyond recognition, transforming theminto a corrosive substance which willeat through steel and concrete, and thenplays the result faster than I everthought humanly possible. The lyricsaren’t what I expect from grindcore orhardcore; they’re simply too literary,using near-rhymes and alliteration tocraft images and borrow ideas fromboth prose and poetry. There is alsohumor here, although it’s hanging froma gallows as Wes spits out lines like“Yea, well, fate is fucking romantic ifyou can get off on failure.” Like mostof the albums that I love, this EPrequires just a little more engagementand commitment; it is not easy toabsorb and it is not catchy in any tradi-tional way (we aren’t really talkingabout verse-chorus construction here).This record requires that you dedicateyourself to it a bit, that you put asidewhat you think you know about music

and engage it on its own terms—itdraws you onto its own ground for thefight, which is a dangerous place foryou to be and an immediate disadvan-tage. However, you will learn from thebeating this record dishes out, eventhough it’s only six minutes long, and isnot for the faint of heart or for peoplewho have weak stomachs. You willlearn, you will expand your musicalhorizons, and you will grow. (Sidenote: While it’s true that other bandshave created similar records—NapalmDeath, Universal Order OfArmageddon, The Locust, et. al., just toname a few—Some Girls happens to doit exceedingly well. ‘Nuff said. Fornow.) –Puckett (Three One G)

SOME GIRLS: The DNA WillHave It’s Say: CDEPSeven songs in a little over six minutes.Comes with a video that shows the bandplaying, paint being thrown against awall, and dudes making out. The juxta-position of the music (a la CombatWounded Veteran, the Locust, Reversalof Man, etc.) and the album art (super-bright colors, rainbows, a winged bunnywith its guts falling out) is brilliant.Charged, frantic hardcore that’s maybea little too cute and smart for its owngood, but I dig it. Karen from the YeahYeah Yeahs screeches along with theboys on one song. The typo in the albumtitle is theirs, not mine. –Keith Rosson(Three One G)

SOUTH FILTHY: Crackin’ Up: LPSouth Filthy are some legends from the‘90s (Monsieur Jeffrey Evans, JackOblivian Yarber, Walter Daniels) show-ing their roots by doing legendary song-writers’ work from back in the day;songs by Marvin Rainwater, Tom T.Hall, Gino Washington, Bo Diddley,and others are covered here. Soul, blues,old school country—respectability. Ihope it makes the true crossover andplays in truck stops. Two-hundred andfifty copies are a deluxe edition doublevinyl set with their first album onSympathy. –Speedway Randy (Rockin’Bones)

SOVIETTES, THE: LP III: CDThe Soviettes’ LP II was easily one ofmy top five albums of last year. TheirLP I was in my top five for the yearbefore. So the real question with LP IIIwas whether or not they could keep upthe trend. Three top five albums in threeyears. That’s a lot to ask of any band.My expectations were so high that Icouldn’t imagine being anything butdisappointed. And, to be honest, myfirst listen was a little tepid. I wasn’tsure if this album could stand up to theirfirst two. There was that third song thatsounded like Pat Benatar could’ve sungit. And there are definite rock starmoments to some of the songs: bigpower chords and riffs that sound likethey could become guitar solos. Still,there was enough of the Soviettes to getme to spin it again. As songs startedseparating themselves and all the partsstarted fitting together, this album madesense. It’s punk rock and eighties popand some of the best elements of fellowMinneapolis bands like the Selby Tigersand Dillinger Four. It’s also never farfrom my stereo. I burned an extra copyto keep in my truck. I can’t stop listen-ing to it. It’s early to say, but I think theSoviettes are gonna make my top fivelist three years running. –Sean (Fat)

SPACE CRETINS: Rocket Roll: CDDecent enough junkie rock with fright-eningly disposable lyrics. Produced byJack Endino. –Jimmy Alvarado (KillingPig, no address)

SPACEHORSE: Self-titled: CDEPI love promotional material sometimes.This label proclaims that this band isfast hardcore in the vein of Double O,Die Kreuzen, Battalion of Saints,Articles of Faith, and the Offenders.Being an old guy, let’s look at thisclaim. The bands mentioned all sounduniquely different from each other. Iwill give them hints of Double O,Articles of Faith, and the Offenders. Idon’t hear the Die Kreuzen and defi-nitely not Battalion of Saints. You knowwhat this band sounds like to me? Ciril.–Donofthedead (Gravity)

STARVATIONS, THE:Gravity’s a Bitch: CDI’ve been waiting for Gravity’s a Bitch’srelease for months now. See, not toomany albums get me all worked upnowadays, and unless Greg Cartwrightappears on a recent release, I typicallypass up the new stuff for something stu-pid like a Little Eva 7”. But not theStarvations! No, no, especially takinginto account 2003’s masterpiece, GetWell Soon. ANYWAY, I’d heard someof the new stuff at shows and had a feel-ing this record’s arrival was going tocure some of my audiophile/record col-lecting withdrawals. And it totally did!Fuck, Gravity’s a Bitch totally rules!The album’s success lies in theStarvations’ growth as songwriters andmusicians; Gabriel Hart comes throughagain with chord progressions so per-fect, I keep listening to individual songsover and over again—it’s like whenAllan Freed would play songs to death,only I don’t get payola and have neverbeen sauced on the air. Hart’s slide gui-tar is fucking ridiculous, too—“Nightshade Sweats” reminds me ofsome Kid Congo’s work on Las VegasStory. His formidable, morbid narra-tives are back too, most notably in the“were going on vacation as soon asBlind Lemon Jefferson’s ghost comesthrough with the tickets” blast of “Lostat Sea;” Jean-Paul Garnier is quite pos-sibly L.A.’s best bassist not namedTommy Branch. The dude works thefretboard like Rob Ritter did on Miamiand has something most bassists don’thave: creativity! Piano/accordion playerVanessa Gonzalez continues to demon-strate how integral her multi-instrumen-tal pallet is to The Starvations’ uniquesound. And therein lies the Starvations’secret: they know how to write idiosyn-cratic, solid tunes and play their instru-ments really fucking well. They alsosound well-versed in America’s musicalhistory, a lot like the Clash in ’79 andthe Gun Club in ’81. If you know thosebands, you know how fucking scary thatis. And until I drive my roommates’ nutswith repeats of this record, I’ll finally beable to leave my In the Red Recordsaltar unmanned for longer than a day.Goddamn. –Ryan Leach (GSL)

STATE, THE: No Illusions: 7” One of the good things to come out ofthe whole Killed By Death phenomenonis that a lot of attention has beenfocused on bands that otherwisewould’ve continued to wallow in obscu-rity and remained unheard of outside of

the small group of people who actuallybought one of the, say, two hundredcopies of a given release by said band.So much about punk and hardcore in the‘80s (at least in the circles I ran aroundin) was not as much about whether youhad the latest from more popular bandslike Hüsker Dü or 7 Seconds (althoughbeing familiar with them didn’t hurt) asit was about what amazing obscurityyou stumbled upon that week. Throughthis ritual, bands like the Mentally Ill,Void, Italy’s Raw Power, Germany’sInferno and damn near anyScandinavian band to commit music totape garnered more than a couple offans as far away from their hometownas East Los Angeles could be. Sadly, Iwould further venture to say that it’sthat peculiar punk habit that somewherewent haywire and resulted in dumb-fucks unclear on the concept payingridiculous prices for records they’reonly gonna store in a hermeticallysealed box in an airless room and never,ever play and, thus, taking such gemsout of circulation. Fuck that. Recordsare supposed to be played often and,more importantly, shared with otherswho might find them crucial. So thiswhole bootleg and/or reissue culture ofreintroducing long gone bands back intothe punk rock conversation is justpeachy, I say. Not only has it kick start-ed the musical career of the Queers,which may or may not be a good thingdepending on how you feel about them,but it’s also exposed a lot of people(myself included) to bands they nevernew existed, such as the State, whichbrings us to the record currently up fordiscussion. This is a reissue, not a boot-leg, of this Michigan band’s first of tworeleases (the other being a 12” that,according to some sources, is nowherenear the caliber of this, but I digress).The band cranks out seven blasts ofquirky thrash that are finished fasterthan it takes to read the lyrics. Althoughthey don’t really sound like them, com-parisons would lead to other now-obscure Midwestern bands, like DieKreuzen, whose Cows and Beer EP wasjust as crazed, chaotic, and quirky aswhat’s here, and the Fix, who were justabout as rough around the edges andmean-sounding as these guys.Ultimately, this deserves a spot in hard-core’s hallowed halls just as much asany of the genre’s more celebratedgroups. Thanks to Felix Havoc, you canget a copy of this bad boy, which wasmastered from the original tapes andfeatures a faithful reproduction of theoriginal cover layout, for 3/100 theprice you would pay for a copy of theoriginal. Better snatch it up quick,though, ’cause there’s only a thousandof ’em out there (well, 999 if you countthe one that ain’t gonna be leaving myhome anytime soon). If you do manageto get one, be sure to play it often andshare it with as many friends as you can.–Jimmy Alvarado (Havoc)

STATIC AGE, THE: NeonNights Electric Lives: CDIf you grew up in the 1980s, you knowthat you simply couldn’t get away frommusic like this—dark, synth andeffects-driven gothic pop that echoes fordays. Think somewhere along the linesof the guitar tones of A Flock ofSeagulls with the general mood of B-Movie or The Cure; think along thedarker, unhappier fringes (though notquite as dark or unhappy as ChristianDeath or Joy Division—Clan Of

Xymox or another synth-driven 4ADband with pop edges will do nicely).Toss in a dash or two of shoegaze (likeRide, My Bloody Valentine, Lush, etc.)to round out the songs and provide somemusical depth and texture. Add somebreathy, crooning vocals (not entirelyunlike Flesh For Lulu, only with moreof a husky quality). What you shouldwind up with, as I said when I firstheard “It Never Seems to Last”—a songthat should (and in any other worldwould) have been a massive radio hit—is a soundtrack for a John Hughes filmthat never got made (and think aboutJohn Hughes circa Some Kind ofWonderful or Pretty in Pink, the twomovies he made that seemed to captureteen angst and class awareness mosthonestly). I won’t claim that this is bril-liant, innovative, or great, but there aretimes when I don’t expect or need arecord to change my life; right now, thiswell-crafted album is perfectly satisfy-ing and that’s good enough. –Puckett(Tarantulas)

STRAIGHTJACKET: Modern Thieves: CDNothing flashy here, just straight aheadpunk. As Todd alluded to in his reviewof their 7” in the last ish, there’s hints ofgreatness here, but oftentimes I feel thatit stops just short of those possibilities.Like watching a prizefighter whostrings along his opponent, I keep wait-ing for a knockout blow that neverseems to materialize. Instead there is astring of solid body blows and jabs tothe face that do the job over time ratherthan all at once. A good record, but Iwanna be KO’d. –The Lord Kveldulfr(TKO)

STRAPS, THE: The Punk Collection: CDCaptain Oi shines a spotlight on anotherband that has fallen through the cracksof time, this one featuring alumni fromthe class of ’78, a number of whomwent on to bigger and better things inbands like Theatre of Hate and SexGang Children. A number of “guests”make appearances here, including theodd Damned and Subs member.Included here are the tracks from theband’s single and album, both of whichare fine examples of UK punk at itsbest, alternating between thuddingprimitive tunes and proto-post punkexperimentation. This ’un’s a keeper.–Jimmy Alvarado (Captain Oi)

SUPERSUCKERS: Devil’s Food: CDThis self-released “Collection of RareTreats and Evil Sweets” is intended tocrash the Supersuckers-bootleg marketand “shortens the wait” between studioalbums. If you’re a SS fan from wayback (like the eMpTy days), feverishlysought out dozens of live shows, shame-fully bowed out around 1999’s EvilPowers of Rock ‘n’ Roll, and wish toGod they’d put out another countryalbum, then this is manna from heaven.There are no overtures of shamelessSpaghetti-strapped forty-year-oldwomen dry-humping Eddie’s leg fromthe front row while screaming, “Oh,Eddie. Ooohhh, Eddie!” This is not forthe rock ‘n’ jock crowd. This album tra-verses the group’s garage, punk, andcountry highways and divergent inter-sections over the course of a sixteen-song (eleven originals and five coversincluding OutKast, ElectricFrankenstein, and Lionel Richie) road

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trip. Upbeat ass-shakin’ punk in “ShakeIt Off,” country versions of“Doublewide” and “Born with a Tail,” ablunt discussion of everyone’s favoritemakeshift paraphernalia in “Tin Can,” afantastical doo-wop tune with a table-spoon of Andre Williams’ humor called“Rubber Biscuit” and a hopeful nod towishing others well in “End of an Era.”Damn, that’s good. Now, where’d I putthat roach? –Jessica T(Mid-Fi Recordings)

SWEATMASTER: Tom Tom Bullet: CDO MERCIFUL GOD, KILL ME NOWTHAT THIS MAY BE THE LASTRECORD THAT I HEAR ON THISEARTHLY PLANE SO THAT I BOPAND SHIMMY INTO THE AFTER-LIFE WITH SWEATMASTER’SINFECTIOUS, GOOEY-GROOVYROCK ‘N’ ROLL SOUL-PUMMEL-ING GUIDING MY SPIRIT INTOETERNITY… –The Lord Kveldulfr(Bad Afro)

SWING DING AMIGOS: The Mongolita Chronicles: CDThe Amigos smack you around like acrack bitch with twenty tracks, most allclocking in at under a minute and a half.Being a trio, these guys have got theirshit together. Tight, yet loose, a la ToysThat Kill. This disc is a big-ass wall ofraw, bleeding rawk that sounds likewhat Minor Threat would have soundedlike if they took to emptying cases ofbeer and fifths of booze in their sparetime. The Amigos would’ve been arepeat opening band for Black Flag, butlucky you, you get to see The Amigosthe next time you get the chance. Don’tblow it. –Designated Dale (Rock N RollPurgatory)

TALK HARD: War Journal: 7”Here’s one that takes me back. Metallichardcore, but not in the current dark-and-suffering-band-of-the-week mold. Imean this sounds like Struggle or some-thing off of an Ebullition comp from theearly ‘90s much more than it does likeIsis or anything off Hydra Head today.It’s pissed, it’s smart, and there areweird little breakdowns and parts pep-pered throughout the songs so that ithooks you, keeps you listening, andnever turns into a snoozefest. Withsongs like “American Idle,” “HardcoreKids Say the Darndest Things,” and “IfYour Local Anarchist Collective Ruledthe World,” you know what you’re get-ting here: short, furious, intelligentsongs by kids that are just as ready tocritique the fallacies of their own sceneas they are to the government or con-sumer culture. A twelve-song seven-inch from a band I’ve never even fuck-ing heard of, and also a record that justso happens to come heartily recom-mended. –Keith Rosson (Don Giovanni;www.sonofabitchbastard.com)

TEENAGE BOTTLEROCKET: Total: CDI had heard mp3s and must admit Iwasn’t too impressed. But listening toit now and thumbing through the book-let, I think I’m falling in love. Thevocals, lyrics, and attitude rule. If thephrase “pop punk” doesn’t scare you,and you’re a HUGE Ramones orLillingtons fan, this disc is for you,hands down. Two thumbs way up.“Stupid Games” is by far the best trackon the album. Push the repeat button,QUICK! –Mr. Z (Redscare, www.redscare.net)

TEENAGE CASKET CO.: Dial It Up: CDReviewer rule #316: If any of the bandmembers is sporting the last name“Wylde,” the odds of the record suckingare upped exponentially. Reviewer rule#848: If one of the song titles is “BadGirl,” and a member of the band issporting the last name “Wylde,” careful-ly place the offending article down, stepaway slowly, call for the mass evacua-tion of a thirty-mile radius, and nuke thewhole area to ensure any traces of theoffending record have been eliminated.–Jimmy Alvarado (Trashpit)

TEMPER TEMPER: Self-titled: CDThese sons of Milwaukee have a record,and a good one at that. It combines thehypnotic yet andrenalizing qualities ofbig beat dance music with the freneticurgency of a life too short to be lived tofull satisfaction, giving it an air of ele-gant, artful destruction. Magnificent.–The Lord Kveldulfr (Revelation)

THOR: Thor Against the World: CDI thought there was a bad heavy metalband in the ‘80s that has used this namethat sounded like Manowar. I don’tknow if this is the same band, but, man,this is painful. This band has the AliceCooper cheese theatrics to it whilebeing backed by Quiet Riot. It’s proba-bly more fun being on the other sidemaking this music, but I’m not amused.–Donofthedead (Smog Veil)

THROUGH YOU: Silhouette: CDThis thing is absolutely amazing: a clas-sic case of some record label PR dick-

head just firing blind and sending outpromos to every magazine with a glossycover. Through You’s got a mixture of“sweet riffs,” chunka-chunka hard rockstuff, and acoustic ballads. The vocalsalternate between rap rock and an eye-wateringly high, lilting singing. Threeof the four members thank God in theliner notes. Includes the lyrical gem, “Isee fire in your eyes controlled andmolded into stars and God’s given youHis wonders to hold and blessed thislove of ours and it is so unbelievablehow beautiful this has become.” I readthe lyrics to Anna and she started vom-iting everywhere. If I had to sum it up ina one-word review (and was allowed ahyphen), I’d say soul-killing. If ClearChannel and the CIA ever put theirheads together and came up with ablack-ops studio band meant to nullifythe general populace’s will to live, theseboys’d be hired on the fucking spot. Ipredict a 7-Up commercial or two intheir future. –Keith Rosson (Parafora)

TORCHE: Self-titled: CDI don’t know anything about Cavity, inwhich as at least one Torche was, butlast year’s Floor CD was a top-shelffavorite on the Baxter farm, and twoFloors are in Torche, and you can hearit. I also don’t really know anythingabout Queens of the Stone Age, but Ithink that’s the general territory onwhich tread Torche: heavy on the heavy,but also on the smooth. Guitars aretuned so low you’re not sure whetheryou’re hearing them or feeling them, thevocals flow like Guinness and there’shardly any bullshit to fuck with yourenjoyment of the rolling of the thunder.The whole thing’s under thirty minutes,which is a shame, but you’ll find it only

seems like about twelve. And, yes, I’mignoring the hideous cover and middleschool lines like, “war is beautiful.”That’s my right. –Cuss Baxter (RoboticEmpire)

TOY DOLLS: Our Last Album?: CDDunno whether the title is accurate andthis is truly their swan song or they’rejust having a laugh at our expense, butif it is, indeed, true, then we are theworse off for it. In recent years they’vegotten into a groove, of sorts, crankingout LPs that, while not always as manicor inspired as their earliest work, weresolid additions to their recorded legacy,and this is no exception. Olga’s guitarwork is as jaw-droppingly good asever, Tommy Goober and Dave the Nutprovide the requisite precision backing,and the lyrical subject matter remainssilly, as evidenced by titles like “NoOne Knew the Real Emu,” and “TheDeath of Barry the Roofer withVertigo.” This album’s cover tune ofthe Boomtown Rats’ “She’s SoModern” is serviceable at worst, andthere are a couple of “bonus” tracks aswell, “Tony Talks Tripe” and a re-recording of “Yul Brynner Was aSkinhead.” These guys are/were one ofpunk’s truly original voices and will bemissed if this is their last hurrah.–Jimmy Alvarado (SOS)

TOYS THAT KILL: Don’t Take My Clone b/w Breakin’ Out: 7”The hyenas haven’t been tamed. Thelions haven’t been declawed. Thewheels on the TTK wagon rarely stoprotating. Secret muscles developed andcardiovascular fitness improved fromcontinuous touring turns what could be

a bunt situation into another crackin’hit. Side A’s quintessential TTK: gui-tars and vocals battling it out like man-nered vultures picking at the world’scarcass, pure outpourings of dragstrip-ping energy that mess up electronicdevices, octopusal drumming, and mid-dle-eastern scaling that only I seem tohear. “Breakin’ Out” borrows a Clashriff, is wildly poppy, and may stumpexisting TTK fans if you don’t tell themwho it is before playing it. But, man, doI like it. –Todd (Dirtnap)

TRACTOR SEX FATALITY:Live It Down: 7”Noise rock from a band that featuresformer members of the HoneymoonKillers, the Gloryholes, and the Primate5. Annoying in all the right ways, espe-cially “Cagematch,” which just mightbe my favorite new song of the week.–Jimmy Alvarado (Big Neck)

TRIGGERS/ SPITS: Split 7”The Triggers are the kings and queensof dirt melody. They sound so sloppyand catchy at the same time. I’m asucker for dual male/female vocals andfor ripped-jean, piss-your-pants-and-continue-your-conversation-like-noth-ing-happened, alcoholic punk, and it’shard to find a finer specimen than theTriggers. They’re the Avengers if theAvengers were more crumpled, surly,nihilistic, and toured in a shitty vanwith a muffler holding on by a guitarstring. Spits: It’s too soon to put it incement, but the Spits have theRamones-height ability to make songsseem too simple, too easy to do, and areplayed in a way that’s obviously asheart-felt. Gloriously retarded and ill atease. Even at their more fungal (thefirst track) and noise loopy synthesiz-ery (the second one), I’m willing to fol-

low them down many a dark alley andhear what they stumble over and kickback at. Not for geniuses or people whobeat off to complexity, just a damn fineband. –Todd (Puke)

TROPHY: Made Out of Babies: CDFace it, guys. No matter how manyloud guitars, no matter how manygoth/rock/punk riffs you fire off, nomatter how much racket you make totry to hide it, your singer still soundslike Bjork. Only when you admit thiscan the healing truly begin. –JimmyAlvarado (Neurot)

UNDERHILLS, THE: What Went Wrong: CDEPWhen you’re in a band ready to releaseone of your recordings for the world tohear, you don’t say, Let’s not put ourband name on the outer packaging! Ireally thought this band was calledWhat Went Wrong. There was a symbolwith a lower case “u” that was under-lined inside a circle. Boy, that suredoesn’t say that this is an UnderhillsCD to a guy who has never heard orseen them before. If I hadn’t actuallylooked at the insert and seen in tinyprint that was the band name, I wouldhave never found out. Anyways, thisband sounds like early Blink 182 meetsthe Queers to me. –Donofthedead(Cabana 1)

URBAN RIOT: Public Enemies: CDIf the music on this disc was food, Ithink it would be a meatloaf, with plen-ty of thick chest hairs baked in and bro-ken teeth sprinkled over the top. Withtheir stubborn, workmanlike attitude,you could say Urban Riot is “lunch-box” street punk, both because of its

utilitarian approach and because theseguys sound like they eat entire lunch-boxes whole—and I mean the old-school metal kind with the glass-linedthermos inside. Though this is not verytuneful and I can’t imagine anythingmore insipid than people who exert thismuch effort trying to convince theworld what tough-ass galoots they are,this is serviceable oi and it is not with-out its brutish charms. Pass theketchup. – Aphid Peewit (Headache)

VAN ERMANS, THE: Under the Gun: CDEmo. What does that even mean? Itwas pretty funny when ScreechingWeasel named a full-length Emo. –Mr. Z (Broken Spoke)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: 80 Records and We’re NotBroke (Yet): 2 x CDI’ll give Level Plane this (and littleelse): they did the right thing makingthis a double CD. The first disc is stan-dard label sampler, with tracks fromavailable product, but disc two is allunreleased material. Sadly, the majori-ty of both parts is twisted up fromeverybody fiddling with high strings,so busy building tension with theirweird keys and drone notes and break-ing new ground (mm hm) they forgetthe Riff and Groove, thus neglectingwhat makes rock music rock music.There are exceptions: Bucket Full ofTeeth, Transistor Transistor, MeltBanana, Newgenics, Avorza (eventual-ly) and Nixon do remember to rock;and Air Conditioning andLickGoldenSky (on disc two only! Thesong on disc one is crap!) are so farfrom Rock to begin with they can’t

really be said to be missing the boat;they’re on the train. –Cuss Baxter(Level Plane)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Dance Hall Troops Vol. 1: CDThe days of the compilation have longbeen over. Gone are the days ofSomeone’s Gonna Get Their HeadKicked In and Let Them Eat Jellybeans.Other than a few standouts (Hostagefucking Records!), the compilationrecord has somehow morphed into the“label sampler.” Rather than put a kickass bunch of songs, labels seem to optfor putting out a weak cross section oftheir tepid roster. As I noted that thiswas comp was sponsored by a recordlabel and a clothing company, I wasexpecting the worst. BOY, WAS IFUCKING WRONG!!! DancehallTroops just my be the savior of thePunk Rock Compilation (along withHostage fucking Records!). GoodGoddamn, this record rules. And thebands, THE BANDS!!! So many goodbands, that I’m sure that I’ll miss men-tioning some of the best ones. It’s allgood, but here are the standouts. TheSleazies, Die Hunns, Smut Peddlers,Smogtown, Broken Bottles, my local(Victoria, BC) favorites Keg Killers,Curb Slappys… It goes on and on. Thisthing has been in the stereo since I gotit. I’m waiting for Volume Two. –TyStranglehold (No Front Teeth)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: GetOutta Philly: CDA mighty fine compilation of punk inall its permutations from, drugged-outsurf rock to ‘60s trash to borderlinehardcore to Dolls-influenced rock.Given that this is subtitled

“Rock’n’Roll from the City ofBrotherly Love,” I was wholly expect-ing bad bar rock, but this is quite possi-bly the most consistently good sceneoverview I’ve heard since the Let’s GetRid of L.A. comp. Featured bandsinclude Thee Minks, The Bad NewsBats, Bad Penny, The Chance,Toothless George and his One ManBand, The Blow Goes, The PartyWreckers, Econocaste, TheMisteriosos, Dragon City and theJukebox Zeros. This is gonna get wornout pretty quick. –Jimmy Alvarado(Tick Tick Tick)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Live atThe Continental / Best of NYCVol. 1 & Live at TheContinental / Best of NYCVol. 2: CDBoth of these discs showcase NY bandsand artists doing their live thing at theContinental bar, a place where many avan-travelling band has done a gig ortwo at when their tour pulls throughNYC. Both discs boast a gang of namesyou’ve come to be familiar with: JoeyRamone, The Ramainz, Jesse Malin,Cheetah Chrome and Handsome DickManitoba, Agnostic Front, Cro-Mags,Murphy’s Law, The Bouncing Souls,Lunachicks, The Voluptuous Horror ofKaren Black, Toilet Boys, The Bullys,The Waldos, and a helluva lot more.While the sound lags a bit on some ofthe tracks, these discs are great back-ground music to crank up for your nextinebriated get-together. –DesignatedDale (The Continental)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Mixo de Punko! Vol. 2: CDThe faux-Spanish title of this now-series of punk comps still sticks in my

craw (I bet naming a comp GringosGoing Gaga or A Hectare of Honkieswould raise all kindsa hackles), butmusically this is a marked improve-ment over the pop punk crap that per-meated the first volume. So far as I’mable to tell, the bulk of the bands hereare from California, a number of themresiding to the north of Los AngelesCounty. All but one specialize in hard-core (the lone exception being a noisepiece by The Mouse and the Moose)and some heavy hitters are representedhere, including KatKiller, Ill Repute,Dr. Know, Bad Samaritans, and TheMissing 23rd, with nearly all of themturning in some good work. In short,this is a good compilation (a raritythese days) marred by a truly stupidtitle. –Jimmy Alvarado (LTE)

VARIOUS ARTISTS:Norrland D-Beat Compilation: CDIt never ceases to amaze how theScandinavians have managed to takethe sound and style of a single band,namely Discharge, and turn it into anentire sub-genre. On this comp are ninebands from the northern end of Swedenwho take the basic template inventedby Cal and the boys more than twodecades ago and manage to come upwith nine wholly different takes on it.From the metal of Ambulance to thegrinding noise of UrUg to the more tra-ditional thrash of Human Waste, awhole host of noise is here, waiting tolay waste to your eardrums and induceconvulsions if you crank up the volumeanywhere past four. Besides the above,other bands representing here are AnaBarata, Earth Died Screaming, 365Dagar Av Synd, Reign of Bombs,Auktion, and Uncle Charles, the latter

of which provides the requisite Mob 47cover, “Rustning är ett brott.” Mostdefinitely a comp worth tracking down.–Jimmy Alvarado (Wasted Sounds)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Oi! Made in Holland: CDA decent enough overview of all thingsoi coming from Holland. Musically, it’spretty much along the lines of oi frommost anywhere else in the world, withgruff vocals and lotsa violent soundingband/song names, like “Bootknife,”“Fuck ’Em Up,” “Another Dead Ref,”“Banner of Thugs,” and the like. Of thetwenty-five tracks here, Discipline’s“Hell Is for Heroes” is the standouttrack, just as it was on their most recentCaptain Oi release. Overall, not bad,although I will admit I made a point ofnot paying any attention to the lyricslest the illusion be shattered and Iwould come to the realization thatHolland’s batch of baldies were just aslame and thick-skulled as so many oftheir brethren elsewhere. –JimmyAlvarado (Rebellion)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: PunxUnite—Leaders of Today: CDA collection of thirty-two so-called“relevant punk bands of today,” ofwhich a grand total of three truly standout, with the remaining “leaders oftoday” falling somewhere between“very mildly diverting, like a heat rash”and “why bother?” Special mentiongoes to Complete Control who, in addi-tion to saddling themselves with such acreative and original moniker (yes, I’mbeing sarcastic), have ripped offCocksparrer so blatantly that I’m sur-prised they’re not up to their eyeballs inlawsuits. Bands contributing to thisinclude Toxic Narcotic, The Voids,

Monster Squad, Cheap Sex, theCasualties and a myriad of parrot punkbands heavy on the Crazy Color andfashion but anemic on originality, con-viction, or substance. Maybe I’m get-ting a bit old, jaded, and cynical, but asI listen to this, I can’t help but think theonly thing relevant here is the DeadKennedy’s line, “Punk’s not dead it justdeserves to die when it becomes anoth-er stale cartoon.” –Jimmy Alvarado(Sideonedummy)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Smash the States: CDOne of the truly great things about com-pilations that has been more or less lostsince punk rock became the musicindustry’s latest cash cow is that theywere once a great way to get acquaintedwith what was going on in other parts ofthe punk rock world, both within a cer-tain geographic area and within a sub-scene. In some cases, they were the onlyway less affluent scenes could provetheir existence to the larger world, andmany of them became classics in theirown right. In the U.S. alone, Flex YourHead, Boston Not LA, Not So Quiet onthe Western Front, Cottage Cheese fromthe Lips of Death, No New York, Yes LA,and the Rodney on the Roq and Life Is…series introduced the likes of MinorThreat, Void, Jerry’s Kids, The Freeze,Gang Green, MDC, 7 Seconds, UrbanAssault, Flipper, Whipping Boy, BigBoys, Dicks, DRI, Teenage Jesus andthe Jerks, DNA, The Germs, BlackRandy, Shattered Faith, Black Flag,Saccharine Trust, and literally hundredsof others. In recent years, however, theonce-noble compilation format has seenits reputation sullied by ignoble labelsshowcasing the meager efforts of theirtalent pool, much of which sounds

indistinguishable from one song to thenext, and faux “regional” comps that areoften nothing more than thinly dis-guised versions of the aforementionedlabel showcase format. Thankfully,though, it appears that the true “scene”compilation is making a comeback,thanks to the likes of Hostage Records,Lengua Armada, and a few others.Which brings us to this bad boy.Subtitled as “redefining punk rock fromthe South,” a large contingency of thebands here represent the Carolinas, butother parts of that area of the UnitedStates are represented as well. Thesounds are diverse in execution, withnary a band sounding like another else-where on the comp, even though muchof what is on here could fall under the“hardcore” umbrella. Most significant isthat the lion’s share of the groups heredo not seem to have any professionalaffiliation with Suicide Watch Records,who put this out. The only significantgripe I can muster is, outside ofemail/web addresses, there’s a lack ofinfo about the bands provided here.Sure, it saves on printing costs, but,being the curmudgeonly old schooler Iam, I like info on the band—in all itsspelling error-riddled, cut-out-of-maga-zines-and-pasted-helter-skelter glory—being provided with the comp. Outsideof that, you could do much worse thanpicking this up and marveling at theracket being raised by the likes ofAllergic to Bullshit, My So-CalledBand, New Mexican Disaster Squad,Carrie Nations, The Fighting Mailmen,Forgotten Youth, and a bunch of others.Does it rival Flex Your Head? No, but itisn’t 1981, and this is one cool-ass lookat what’s going down in the Southernunderground circa 2005. –JimmyAlvarado (Suicide Watch)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Walk the Plank Vol. 1: CDDISCLAIMER: My band is on thiscompilation but I won’t mention themany further. Here we have a benefitcompilation for a member of one of thebands who has Multiple Sclerosis. Thatis as good a cause as any, as MS is anevil disease that needs to be stopped. Onto the music. The first few bands herekind of dashed my hopes for this. Sortof a post-hardcore emo deal.Uhh…yeah. My discouragement wassoon forgot when I got to the middleportion of the disc. Bands such as LoveMe Destroyer (ex-Pinhead Circus),Handy with Shovels, Whiskey Kiss andSack had me rocking. The majority ofthis rocks and you can’t beat a goodcause. –Ty Stranglehold (Mutiny)

VARUKERS: The Riot City Years: CDI had a buddy, Matt, back in the ‘80swith an unflagging adoration forEnglish punk and girl bands. On onetrip to the Rock Shop on HollywoodBoulevard, he procured a dubbed cas-sette with Skrewdriver’s All SkrewedUp on one side and another band we’dnever heard, the Varukers, on the other.Once his initial fascination with the A-side wore out, he began playing the flipwith increasing regularity and it soonbecame a listening staple while cruisingEast L.A. in his Toyota truck. This discacted like a kind of time travel back tothose misspent summer days for me.Those not familiar with the band willfind on this CD tunes that musically fallsomewhere between Discharge and theExploited—mostly fast ’n’ furious withlyrics a little more complex than either

of those bands were able to manage intheir prime. –Jimmy Alvarado (Step-1 Music)

VCR: Self-titled: CDThis EP is not as bad as the cover artand song names would lead me to think.Best description I can think of is 2005post-art-punk/synth-rock like the sort ofnose-in-the-air stuff you’ve come toexpect from Dim Mak or GSL. It’s likea comatose This Is Revenge. For theband consisting of only two keyboards,drums, and bass, it’s not all that bad.One thing is for sure: it doesn’t seemlike the type of band that would besigned to Side One Dummy. I know,tripped me out too. –Mr. Z (Side One Dummy)

VICE SQUAD: The Riot City Years: CDMatt Wingrove’s truck, summer 1988.That’s what this CD conjures up. Myfriend Matt was a total Anglophile whenit came to punk and a sucker for a bandwith a girl rockin’ the mic, so it wasalmost a gimme that Vice Squad wouldbe one of his favorite bands (well, them,the Superheroines, Pandoras, and L7,the latter of the three he liked so muchhe roadied for them during that period),and he played them CONSTANTLY.Normally, some would find such repeat-ed listenings of the same band day inand day out intolerable, but Vice Squadwere such a good goddamn band—grade-A ‘80s British punk fronted bythe legendary Beki Bondage—that youreally didn’t notice that the same tapewas being played over and over again.At one point, he bought a copy of everyVice Squad single he could find and,voila, a whole new slew of tunes for our

listening enjoyment. A good hunk of thetunes that comprised that second ViceSquad tape are here (as well as threesongs from a demo by their side bandthe Sex Aids), essentially the tracksfrom the pre-Stand Strong, Stand Proudsingles, all of it crucial listening.Haven’t seen Matt since 1991 and last Iheard, he was living in San Berdoo.Listening to this, though, with the stereocranked to its full, wall-shaking maxi-mum, I find myself back in that batteredmini-truck of his, complete with “Yogiis a sex dwarf” and “The Rejected” (thename of the band he and Yogi had at thetime) graffiti in the bed and exhauststreaming in from the hole in the cabfloor, cruising the hills of City Terrace,looking for a gig to go to, some troubleto get into, or some combination there-of. –Jimmy Alvarado (Step-1 Music)

VIKINGS, THE: The Best Head Ever: 2 x CDThere are some releases I have no busi-ness reviewing. This is one of them. Iwill pick up practically anything up atRazorcake HQ to review so I can see ifit will float my boat, especially the“Mystery Meat” pile where only a few(including the infamous JimmyAlvarado!) will venture. The Vikingsare not my thing, but this band compro-mises of a former Devil Dog (who Ihave never listened to) and someScandinavian dudes including aTurbonegro (who I admit, I have neverreally spent that much time listening toeither). From what this looks like, this isa discography CD with a bonus live discfrom a show in Sweden. I can’t say thatthis one grabs me by my sweaty balls.This is a little too straight forward rockfor my tastes. But I can tell you that they

do it well. I wasn’t completely turnedoff by listening to this. –Donofthedead(Just Add Water)

VIOLATORS: The No Future Years: CDRemember these guys from theirappearance on one of the Punk andDisorderly comps and not being all thatimpressed with ’em, but this release isanother matter entirely. A collection ofassorted singles and such that they madewhile signed to No Future, the bulk ofthe music here is very dark and experi-mental, almost post-punk in sound,which was a surprise given their lookand their fairly by-the-numbers punkname. The songs, many of which are abit on the long side, are nevertheless agood listen, with their non-Xerox takeon punk, and specifically English punk,it’s a nice change of pace in an era (boththen and now) when everyone seemsmore interested in sounding like every-one else. Good stuff. –Jimmy Alvarado(Captain Oi)

WILLOWZ, THE: Talk in Circles: CDThis band has swiftly devolved to thepoint where they’re at their best whentrying to either sound like a) a thriftstore version of the second side of thefirst Television album, or b) some sortof high school biology experimentembarked upon with the aim of findingout what Redd Kross would’ve soundedlike had they been remiss any particu-larly good songs. The JeffersonAirplane-ish psychedelic she-mum-blings, the quasi-free-jazz-improvisa-tionings, the neo-White-Stripe-White-Stripings? Uh, no. Please. No. No more.I can’t even think of a funny way to say

this. Please stop. Thanks. BEST SONG:“Ulcer Soul,” maybe. BEST SONGTITLE: “Linear Communication,”although i’m really starting to leantowards “We Can Die Now” FANTAS-TIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: I’dlike to thank the Milwaukee Brewersand Washington Nationals baseballclubs, for it was the radio broadcast ofyour May 16th, 2005 game that mademy stopping listening to this CD possi-ble. –Rev. Nørb (Sympathy)

WINKS, THE: Too Hot to Be This Cool: CDSounds like a post-Supercharger editionof Girlschool (but factoring in someother factor that allows the subjects torocket thru thirteen songs in eighteenminutes), which is not, in and of itself,enough to seriously renew or resuscitatemy flagging interest in The Punk Rock;however, when i clicked on the multi-media content files (that means“movie”) and the Quicktime™ fileopened up not in a generic player, but ina cool oval with a thick pink border anda Winks logo above the screen and abackground that blended from white onthe top to pink on the bottom, in whatwould be the rough equivalent of a 20lpi screen, with little white control but-tons with pink arrows and such on them,well... holy shit, color me reborn. Youheard it here first, folks: MULTIME-DIA CONTENT IS GO!!! BESTSONG: “Saturday Night” BEST SONGTITLE: I dunno, “Saturday Night”seemed to go down a storm for the BayCity Rollers. FANTASTIC AMAZINGTRIVIA FACT: As much as i love thecustom-made winkin’ pink WinksQuicktime™ player, it is my sad duty toreport that the thing doesn’t have a

pause button, and that neither the fastforward nor rewind buttons are func-tional on my computer. I frown uponsuch slipshod functionality! Also, i can’tspell the word “resuscitate” withoutsinging the Sweet Baby song“Resuscitation.” –Rev. Nørb (SuperSecret)

ZATOPEKS: Ain't Nobody Left but Us: CDCatchy UK pop punk apparently influ-enced by the sounds of early rock'n'rollwith a smattering of Tom Waits-ish sen-sibility. There's an air of retrospectivesentimentality to this, in the sense of"Where have all the good days gonewhen greasers spent Friday nights get-ting into fights?" and rock'n'roll wasstill fresh and simple. Based on themood on this record, the Zatopeks arehard-charging, looking to rock above allelse, but they seem to be a bit ill-at-easein a modern world that doesn't alwaysappreciate the beauty of simplicity. Thelesson here is that there can (and shouldbe) excitement in the seemingly mun-dane, be it a three-chord tune or chancemeetings that seem innocuous at firstbut still haunt us for reasons unknown.–The Lord Kveldulfr (Stardumb)

• 1-2-3-4 Go!, 732 56th St., Oakland, CA 94609 • 2024, PO Box 580482, Minneapolis, MN 55458• 5RC, PO Box 1190, Olympia, WA 98507-1190• Abbey Lounge, 3 Beacon St., Somerville, MA 02143• Abi Yoyos, 25 Juanita Ave., Mill Valley, CA 94941• Acme, PO Box 441, Dracut, MA 01826• Aeronaut, PO Box 361432, LA, CA 90036• Alien Snatch, Morikeweg 1, 74199Untergruppenbach, Germany• Alternative Tentacles, PO Box 419092,SF, CA 94141• Amish Armada, PO Box 852, Hudson, WI 54016• Arclight, PO Box 302978, Austin, TX 78703• Asian Man, PO Box 35585, MonteSereno, CA 95030• Bacon Towne, PO Box 1063, Tallevast, FL 34270• Bad Afro, Sandbjerggade 11 St. Th., 2200Copenhagen N, Denmark• Bankshot; www.bankshotrecords.com• Birdman, PO Box 50777, LA, CA 90050• Black Juju, Box 2140, 10314 Stockholm, Sweden• Blood Money, PO Box 241, Orland Park, IL 60462• Bloodwork, PO Box 16, Lodi, NJ 07644• Blue Bus, PO Box 31130, SF, CA 94131• Boshet, 44 Shabtai Negbi St. Apt. 2,Jerusalem 93825, Israel• Broken Rekids, PO Box 460402, SF, CA 94146• Broken Spoke, 19983 Lexington,Redford, MI 48240• Butter Flavored, PO Box 1041, SiouxFalls, SD 57101• Cabana 1, PMB #195, 315 S. Coast Hwy.101, Suite U, Encinitas, CA 92024• Captain Oi, c/o PO Box 501, HighWycombe, Bucks, HP10 8QA, UK• Cargo Music/Headhunter, 4901-906Morena Blvd., San Diego, CA 92117-3432• Chainsaw Safety, PO Box 260318,Bellerose, NY 11426• Charged, PO Box 3118, Jersey City, NJ 07303-3118• Cheap Art, PO Box 2101, Philadelphia, PA 19103• Cheapskate, 297 Stoodley Pl.,Schenectady, NY 12303• Chocolate Stain, 2741 Burns, Dearborn, MI 48124 • Continental, 25 Third Ave., NY, NY 10003• Cormac, 820 Bay St. #4, Santa Monica, CA 90405• Crackle, PO Box 7, Otley, LS21 1YB, England• Creep, PMB 220, 252 East Market St.,West Chester, PA 19382• Criminal IQ, 3540 N Southport, Chicago, IL 60657• Crusty, PO Box 59, 1895 CommercialDr., Vancouver BC, Canada, V5N 4A6• Da Core, 4407 Bowes Ave., West Mifflin, PA 15122• datawaslost, PO Box 19401, Cincinnati, OH 45219 • Day 51, 4742 42nd Ave. SW #357,Seattle, WA 98116• Deranged, 1166 Chaster Rd., Gibbons,BC, V0N 1V4, Canada• Dionysus, PO Box 1975, Burbank, CA 91507• Dirtnap, 2615 SE Clinton, Portland, OR 97202• Dischord, 3819 Beecher St. NW,Washington, DC 20007• Disconnected, PO Box 632741, SanDiego, CA 92163• Don Giovanni, PO Box 15482, Boston, MA 02215• Dr. Strange, PO Box 1058, Alta Loma, CA 91701• DSK, 1723 Park Meadow Dr., Jamestown, NY 14701

• Epitaph, 2798 Sunset Blvd., LA, CA 90026 • Equal Vision, PO Box 38202, Albany, NY 12203• Estrus, PO Box 2125, Bellingham, WA 98227• Exit Stencil, PO Box 110775, Cleveland, OH 44111• Fast Music, PO Box 206512, New Haven, CT 06520• Fat Fish, PO Box 26953, St. Louis, MO 63118-9998• Fat, PO Box 193690, SF, CA 94119-3690• Finger, 18092 Sky Park Circle South UnitA, Irvine, CA 92614• Fistolo, PO Box 2836, Upper Darby, PA 19082• Flameshovel, 1658 N. Milwaukee Ave.#276, Chicago, IL 60647• FNS, PO Box 1299, Boston, MA 02130• Fractured Transmitter, PO Box 33518,Cleveland, OH 44133• Friends and Relatives, PO Box 23,Bloomington, IN 47402• Gearhead, PO Box 421219, SF, CA 94142 • Ghastly; www.ghastlyrecords.com• Giant Haystacks, PO Box 22971,Oakland, CA 94609• Global Seepaj, 1907 11th Ave. East,Seattle, WA 98102• Good Forks, PO Box 42455, Portland, OR 97242• Gravity, PO Box 81332, San Diego, CA 92138• Greyday, PO Box 2086, Portland, OR 97208• GSL, PO Box 65091, LA, CA 90065• Hairball 8, PO Box 681674, San Antonio, TX 78268-1674• Haunted Town, 1658 N Milwaukee Ave.#169, Chicago, IL 60647• Havoc, PO Box 8585, Minneapolis, MN 55408• Headache, PO Box 204, Midland Park, NJ 07432• Hellcat, 2798 Sunset Blvd., LA, CA 90026• High School Reject, Berlageweg 12,9731 LN Groningen, The Netherlands• Hopeless, PO Box 7495, Van Nuys, CA 91409 • I Used To Fuck People Like You InPrison, Schäfterstrasse 33a, D-44147Germany• ifb, 4447 St. Clair Ave., Ft. Myers, FL 33903• In the Red, PO Box 50777, LA, CA 90050• In Your Face, PO Box 2261, San Diego, CA 92192-2661• Insurgence, 2 Bloor St. West, Suite 100-184, Toronto, Ontario, M4W 3E2, Canada• Intricate; www.intricaterecords.com• Invisible Hand, PO Box 241, Orland Park, IL 60462• Ipecac, PO Box 1778, Orinda, CA 94563• John Francis & Imposters, The, 140Noe St., SF, CA 94114• Just Add Water, PO Box 420661, SF, CA 94142• Kapow, PO Box 29597, LA, CA 90029• Kevin K, PMB 108, 9061 U.S. 19 North,Pinellas Park, FL 33782• Kill Normal, PO Box 17, Durham, CT 06422-0017 • Kill Rock Stars, 120 NE State Ave., PMB418, Olympia, WA 98501 • Kineto; www.kineto.net• Kuriosa, Beizenveld 48, 7943 MCMeppel, The Netherlands• Level Plane, PO Box 7926,Charlottesville, VA 22906• Light in the Attic, PO Box 31970,Seattle, WA 98103• Liquor and Poker, 2323 El SegundoBlvd., Hawthorne, CA 90250• Long Bored; www.longboredrecords.com• Lookout!, 3264 Adeline St., Berkeley, CA 94703• Loud and in Your Face, PO Box 22661,San Diego, CA 92192

• LTE, 1344 Oak Trail St., Thousand Oaks, CA 91320 • Mad Butcher, Kurze Geismarstr.6, D-37073, Göttingen, Germany• Mad Cowboys; www.madcowboys.cjb.net• Made in Mexico, PO Box 70297, Seattle, WA 98127• Martyr, PO Box 955, Harriman, NY 10926• Mid-Fi, PO Box 666, Heber City, UT 84032• Mindless, 410 S. Lincoln Blvd. #285,Venice, CA 90291• Mint, PO Box 3613, Vancouver BC,Canada V6B 3Y6• Morphius, PO Box 13474, Baltimore, MD 21203• Mortville, PO Box 4263, Austin, TX 78765• Mutiny Promotions, 301 Thelma Dr.#209, Casper, WY 82609• Narnack, 381 Broadway 4th Fl., NY, NY 10013• Neurot, PO Box 410209, SF, CA 94141-0209• Newest Industry, Unit 100, 61 WellfieldRd., Cardiff, CF24 3DG, UK• Nice Guy, PO Box 42815, Cincinnati, OH 45242-0815• Nicotine, PO Box 165, Tortona, 15057 (AL) Italy• No Front Teeth, PO Box 27070, London, N2 9ZP UK• No Idea, PO Box 14636, Gainesville, FL 32604• Official UDC Headquarters, 316 E.Gaston St. #4, Savannah, GA 31401• Omega Point, 4707 N. Springfield #2F,Chicago, IL 60625• On/On Switch, PO Box 641122, SF, CA 94164• Orange Peel, PO Box 15207, Fremont, CA 94539• Out of Order, PO Box 72775, Davis, CA 95617• Panic Button, 3264 Adeline St., Berkeley, CA 94703 • Parafora, 37 W. Pine St., Orlando, FL 32801• Paw Tracks, PO Box 20368, NY, NY 10009• Plan-It-X, PO Box 3521, Bloomington, IN 47402• Pluto, PO Box 1201, McKinney, TX 75070• Polyvinyl, PO Box 7140, Champaign, IL 61826-7140 • Prison Jazz, 431 Birch St., Scranton, PA 18505• PsychobillyUS; www.psychobilly.us• Puke, PO Box 99456, Emeryville, CA 94662• Punk Core, PO Box 916, Middle Island, NY 11953• Punks Before Profits, 537 Caroline St.,Rochester, NY 14620• Radio Is Down, PMB #1436, 120 StateAve. NE, Olympia, WA 98501• Raging Sea Design, PO Box 741688, LA, CA 90004• Rapid Pulse, PO Box 5075, Milford, CT 06460-1475• Rebellion, Mgr. Van Roosmalenplein 24,5213 GD Den Bosch, Holland• Relax-O-Matic Vibrator, 13 RueTerrusse, 13005 Marseille, France• Reptilian, 403 S. Broadway, Baltimore, MD 21231• Revelation, PO Box 5232, Huntington Beach, CA 92615• Rip Off, 581 Maple Ave., San Bruno, CA 94066• RIYL, PO Box 2318, Times SquareStation, NY, NY 10108 • Robotic Empire, PO Box 4211,Richmond, VA 23220• Rock N Roll Purgatory, 710 Arch St.,Salem, OH 44460• Rockin’ Bones, c/o Gualtiero Pagani,Borgo Palmia 3a, 43100 Parma, Italy• Rodent Popsicle, PO Box 1143, Allston, MA 02134

• Rumble Gulley, 1112 Stanley Dr.,Newport, WA 99156• Scarey, Casella Postale 516, Succ.76, 10121 Torino, Italy• Seeland, PO Box 1154, El Cerrito, CA 94530-1154• SelfMadeGod, PO Box 46, 21500Biala Podl, Poland• Shake It, 4156 Hamilton Ave.,Cincinnati, OH 45223• Shark Soup, PO Box 3406, 91056Erlangen, West Germany• Shitgiveits, PO Box 22661, San Diego, CA 92192-2661• SideOneDummy, PO Box 2350, LA, CA 90078• Slutfish, 327 Bedford Ave. #A2,Brooklyn, NY 11211• Smog Veil; www.smogveil.com• SOS, PO Box 3017, Corona, CA 92878• Southern, PO Box 577375, Chicago, IL 60657 • Spastics, PO Box 42, Negaunee, MI 49866• Split 7, 12405 Venice Blvd. #265,LA, CA 90066 • Spook City, PO Box 34891,Philadelphia, PA 19101• Spookshow, PO Box 93817, Phoenix, AZ 85070-5070• Stardumb, PO Box 21145, 3001 ACRotterdam, The Netherlands• Steel Cage, PO Box 29247,Philadelphia, PA 19125 • Step-1 Music, PO Box 21, Tenterden,Kent TN30 7ZZ, England• Stomping Ground, PO Box 64862,Phoenix, AZ 85082• Str8 N True, PO Box 1299, Boston, MA 02130• Sudden Death, Cascades PO Box#43001, Burnaby, BC, VSG 3HO, Canada• Suicide Watch, PO Box 9599,Charlotte, NC 28299• Suit of Lights; www.suitoflights.com• Super Secret, PO Box 1585, Austin,TX 78767• Swimmingly, attn: Patrick Smith, 155W. 60th St. Rm. 18E3, NY, NY 10023• Sympathy for the Record Industry,4450 California Pl. #303, Long Beach, CA 90807• Tarantulas, 411A Highland Ave.#348, Somerville, MA 02144• Teenacide, PO Box 291121, LA, CA 90029• Templecombe, PO Box 602,Bayshore, NY 11706• The Blastoffs, 91 Vermont St.,Rochester, NY 14609 • Three One G, PO Box 178262, San Diego, CA 92177• Tick Tick Tick, 1324 S. 9th St.,Philadelphia, PA 19147• TKO, 8941 Atlanta Ave. #505,Huntington Beach, CA 92646• Tragic End, PO Box 30248,Middleburg Heights, OH 44130• Trashpit, 95 Flamstead Ave., Loscoe, Heanor, Derbyshire DE75 7RP, England • Troublemanunlimited; www.troublemanunlimited.com• Up, PO Box 21328, Seattle, WA 98111• Vinyl Dog, 8941 Atlanta Ave. #505,Huntington Beach, CA 92646• Violent Hippie, 1010 Nipsic Ave.,Bremerton, WA 98310• Wasted Sounds, Skologatan 110, 90332 Umea, Sweden• Whoa Oh, 21-36 43 St., 3rd Fl.,Astoria, NY 11105• Wrench, BCM Box 4049, London,WC1N 3XX, England• Yellow Belts, 125 S. Ashland Ave.,Lexington, KY 40502• Zaxxon Virile Action, C.P. 1218,Sorel-Tracy, QC, Canada J3P 7L5

C O N T A C T A DD DD R E S S E Sor posted on www.razorcake.com in the last two months.to bands and labels that were reviewed either in this issue

9 AND A HALF LEFT, #10, $1, 5 ½ x 8, 36 pgs.This reads more like a small autobi-ography than anything else. I guesseveryone loves to talk about them-selves, but at least this guy wrotesomething down. It talks mostlyabout the author’s fiancé and babyson, as well as his experiences andtheories. The stories are interestingwhile staying mostly personal.Quitting smoking must be a drag; hiswritings make me even gladder Inever started in the first place. Theguy also likes dinosaurs... a lot. Pluspoints for mentioning The Bags inthe favorite records section, too. Thegrammar and spelling could begreatly improved. Case in point:“too,” “two,” and “to” mean verydifferent things; using the word “to”for every single one can get confus-ing and irritating to an educatedreader. Simple grammar errors arenot “DIY,” they’re just annoying. I’lllet it slide and say, sans all the tech-nical errors, 9 and a Half Left is agood read. –Mor (9 and a Half Left,Mike Rodemann, 13426 Meri Ave,Lakewood, OH 44107)

BIG TAKEOVER, #56, $5.99, 8½ x 11, 280 pgs.If you have a short attention span, goahead and skip to the last sentence. Ihave an undying amount of respectfor Jack Rabid, the publisher of TheBig Takeover. The guy has beenaround since the embryonic stagesof punk rock and is still as enthusi-astic about music as he ever was.Although his taste in music hasshifted from the extreme corners ofthe underground to more lightweightstuff, he writes about it with suchfervor that, after reading his reviewof a Guided By Voices show, I feltlike he just witnessed Hüsker Düannihilating an audience at a VFWhall in 1982 or something. And eventhough I’m pretty sure I wouldn’tlike the new Doves album, hisreview almost makes me want topick it up. Hell, I never thought I’dcare to read a Wilco interview, letalone enjoy it, but that’s The BigTakeover for you. (Rabid also finds away to mention Void, the Effigies,and the Circle Jerks over the course

of the interview.) It’s not Spin tellingyou what’s cool or what the next bigthing is; it’s people with an honest-to-God love of the music that theywrite about . And even if you don’tlike the current state of indie rock, ifyou’re just looking for overlookedgems spanning from the dawn ofrecorded music to hardcore punkbefore the knuckleheads took over,Jack’s taste is immaculate; thisissue’s got the Raspberries (the bandthat directly inspired PaulWesterberg to play guitar!), andrecent issues have had the Urinals,the Zombies, Savage Republic…probably every band you can thinkof that’s worth listening to.Honestly, along with Trouser Press,this magazine has led me to so manyamazing bands that we’ll never hearon classic rock radio and will neverget their due. It’s one of my fivefavorite magazines ever and I seri-ously look forward to all 280 pages.Absolute highest recommendation;it’s the way things should be. –Josh(249 Eldridge St #14, NY, NY 10002)

BIKE, #4, $1.50 or trade, 5½ x 8, 32 pgs.Daniel, who does Bike, seems likea really cool guy, the kind of guyyou could eat tacos with and talk toabout records that most peoplehave never heard of. So I don’twant this review to be miscon-strued as negative, because I like itand I think it has potential. It’s justthat if you put a sticker on yourbike that says “This Bike Is aPipebomb,” park it in a pretty con-spicuous place, and then find outthat it’s been dismantled by thecops… Dude, that’s not The ManTrying To Keep You Down.Granted, it sucks, and I wouldn’twish that on my worst enemy, butcome on. You have to admit it’skind of a bonehead move, right?Anyway, aside from that, there’s alot of really cool, sloppy cartoons,and I like Bike, but I think I’d loveit if it went a bit deeper than copstories. The split zine that he didwith List is much better. –Josh(Daniel Shea, 1605 Park Ave #3,Baltimore, MD 21217)

BIKE, #5 / LIST, #6, $2, 5½ x 4¼, 32 pgs.So yeah, I do like Bike a lot morewhen it’s not cop stories. His half ofthe split is more of the sloppy car-toons that got my attention in the lastissue. The illustrated stories areabout busting out his teeth doing abike jump, getting caught stealingaspirin from a drug store, and someother stuff. The List half is… um…well, a bunch of lists. A list of thingsshe wants to learn (including how tobuild a sailboat), things to look for-ward to, things to accomplish thissummer, that sort of thing. Bothhalves of the zine have a lot ofcharm, and a hand-screened coveralways gets a thumbs up from me.I’d really like to check out futureissues of both. –Josh (Daniel Shea,1605 Park Ave #3, Baltimore, MD 21217)

CITIZINE, #8, $3.25, 8½ x 11, 48 pgs.Lots of good stuff, including part twoof their interview with Kira Roessler.Also, separate interviews with DerfScratch and Spit Stix from Fear, withvery different perspectives. About abazillion CD reviews, including JelloBiafra with The Melvins, Frank Blackand Two Pale Boys, Coffin Lids (whoI love!!), NOFX, Neko Case, andmany more. Also some fiction, somesocial/political commentary, someanalysis of the declining creativity ofsome major stars (Eminem, U2,REM), poetry, news… pretty muchanything you could want. And it’s allwell written and cleanly laid out.Worth the $3.25. –Brian Mosher(Citizine, 2513 West Fourth St., L.A.,CA 90057)

FLESH WAVE, #1, $3 or trade, 8 ½x 11, photocopied, 20 pgs.This one features lots of originaldrawings, an interesting interviewwith the Detroit hardcore band BillBondsmen, and a very entertainingcomic about a military science exper-iment. Catering to the Detroit hard-core scene, there are lots of show fly-ers and a few reviews. It’s a little dif-ficult to read because of the way thewords are laid out on the page, andmuch of it isn’t worth the required

effort. But, some good stuff nonethe-less, especially if you’re fromDetroit, or planning to be in Detroitany time soon. –Brian Mosher(Fleshwave, 21620 Hoffman, SaintClair Shores, MI 48082)

HARD AND PISSED, Vol. 1, 8½ x 11, 32 pgs.Newsprint zine with decent layout, Iguess. Essentially, the entire focus ofthe zine consists of a series of point-ed rants denoting the sad state ofhardcore today. Great. Perfect topic,one that needs to be addressed, right?Especially with humor, which iswhat these guys are attempting to do.Unfortunately, their humor essential-ly consists of calling everyone theytake issue with 1) homos, 2) fags 3)pussies and/or 4) bitches. By pagethree, they’ve exhausted every possi-ble combination thereof and are justshamelessly repeating themselves.What’s worse, the writing just isn’tthat good. Guys, I suggest spendingless time complaining about otherpeople’s haircuts and doing uninter-esting interviews with Madball, whopretty much sucked the first timearound, and spending more time withthe old thesaurus. And give proof-reading a shot. Edit, edit, edit. –KeithRosson (c.rap.com)

IT'S ALL GRAVY, #8, $1, 5½ x8½, photocopied, 30 pgs.Enthusiastic ska zine put out by kidsin Compton. Yeah, it's totally sloppyand doesn't stray far from the stan-dard zine agenda, but there are a fewthings here that made it interesting.One thing: all the bands interviewedor profiled (Los Skabrones, LasUltrasonicas and Rude Pleague) inthis issue are Hispanic, women, orkids under eighteen, or a combina-tion thereof. That alone sets this zineapart. Say all you want about theundying power of white kids in tightpants screaming and gibbering abouttheir broken hearts; these folks areplaying ska, a genre of music that'sbeen cashed-out commercially foryears, at backyard parties in an eco-nomically fucked locale, parties thatare routinely busted by cops, often-times by force. If nothing else, Iadmire this zine for the simple sin-

Send all zines forreview to Razorcake,PO Box 42129, LA,CA 90042. Pleaseinclude a contactaddress, the numberof pages, the price,and whether or notyou accept trades.

"I'll do anything

legal for $7.05an hour."

–from Lazybones #4

cerity that exudes from it. This issuealso includes a few reviews, an L.A.scene report/show listing, reprintedarticles, a story, and a letter from aprisoner. I mean, ska doesn't interestme a bit, and the writing and layouthere is more than a little rougharound the edges, but the earnest-ness and perseverance shinesthrough here. If you like the genreand live in the area, hit these kidswith a letter and a buck. –KeithRosson (Nick G. c/o Libros Revo,312 W. 8th St., LA, CA 90014)

JUNKET, #1, $3, 5½ x 8½, 36 pgs.I haven’t laughed this hard in alooooooong time. It’s a bunch ofquick stories about stuff that’s hap-pened to the guy during his stint as ataxi driver, and it’s completely fuck-ing hysterical. From a bunch ofcokeheads who yell out “Taxi Driverdoesn’t give a fuck!” to TedNugent’s assistant, it’s all here andyou’ll be able to read the wholething in twenty minutes. Can’t waitfor number two; it’s like Revenge ofthe Lawn, but with punk rock andtaxis! –Josh (Justin Cummings, POBox 7183, Pittsburgh, PA 15213)

KERBLOOM!, #51, 4 x 5½, letter-pressed, 12 pgs.Super-short essay written by a guywho’s apparently part of theSlingshot Collective; the essayfocuses on his difficulty differentiat-ing anti-capitalist endeavors andprojects with capitalist work- andproduction-models. In other words,the trouble the collective had withpartaking in projects that haveinherently anti-capitalist intentionsand then trying to discern if theyshould stick to the work model of“supply and demand” for a certainSlingshot project that’s gotten hugeover the past couple of years—theSlingshot pocket calendar. It is okaybecause the people involved areunpaid volunteers and profits go tofund the paper? Is it not okaybecause certain distributors are mar-keting the purchase of the calendaras a way to fight capitalism? Hedoesn’t come to any conclusions bythe end of the zine, but I’ve rarelyread such a short essay that’s beenwritten with this much clarity. If theintention here was to get the readerthinking, then this guy did great.–Keith Rosson (Artnoose, PO Box3525, Oakland, CA 94609)

LAZYBONES, #4, $1, 5 ½ x 8 ½, 27 pgs.More diary than anything else, thisis a well-written, often humorouslook inside the life of a semi-employed aspiring writer inPortland, Oregon. He tells abouthis attempt at a cleansing fast, hisappearance on the local news pro-gram, and his attempts at findingodd-jobs by sticking flyers all overthe city, in which he says, “I’ll doanything legal for $7.05 an hour.”You’ve gotta love the honesty of

that. –Brian Mosher (Marc Parker,2000 NE 42 Ave #221, Portland,OR 97213)

MEDIA WHORE, #5, $2, 5½ x 8½, 32 pgs.Generally focuses on feminism andthe media's portrayal of women,from what I gather. This issuespecifically covers whether of notRiot Grrrl really is or is not a deadmovement, the advent of the websitewww.takebackthenews.com, vari-ous zine and Ladyfest reviews and apretty in-depth review of videogames that positively portraywomen. It's a decent read, I suppose,if a little static in presentation. Attimes, the articles read like straight-up journalism, with a severe lack ofemphasis on the personality of thewriter. A spiced-up layout, morepersonable writing, and not usingthat goddamn Courier font wouldhave helped. –Keith Rosson (MediaWhore, 12 B Walcott St., Malden,MA 02148)

MY VIVID BLANKET, #3, $2 ortrade, 5½ x 8½, 32 pgs.This one’s something I can get into;My Vivid Blanket #3 is nothing morethan a standard, solid, quality zine,and I don’t mean that in a bad way atall. There’s nothing flashy aboutit—there’s no insane die-cut tri-foldstenciled cover, there’s no spot-color slipsheets with cryptic illustra-tions inserted anywhere, it’s justsome kid and his friends, an exactoknife, a gluestick, a copy machineand a shitload of care. Consideringhow much crap is out there that’seither haphazardly thrown together,that looks and reads like shit, or istrying to pass itself off as “intellec-tual” when it’s really just obfuscatedand pretentious, it’s absolutelyrefreshing to just read a zine thatisn’t attempting to be what it’s not.MVB #3 is subtitled “TableManners,” i.e. it’s a collection ofwriting by Corey and some friendsabout their experiences in the foodindustry: something that all of uscan probably relate to. Some of it’shilarious, some of it’s disturbing(foodworker revenge stories alwaysgive me the shivers) but the threadrunning through it all is that theseare intelligent kids who’ve taken thetime to write their stories well. LikeI said, the care here is evident. Keepputting these out. They’ll only getbetter. –Keith Rosson (Corey c/oMy Vivid Blanket, PO Box 7880,Tampa, FL 33673)

OH NO! THE ROBOT, #6, $2 or amixtape trade, 5½ x 8½, 28 pgs.This basically revolves around a guyand his relationships with his room-mates, his band, and a girl that hehas a crush on. No, but it’s good.There’s noticeable similarities toCometbus, but one of those similari-ties is that it’s easy to read and easyto relate to. He talks about theirhouse and their jobs and their day-to-day lives, but it never gets

bogged down by trying to be pro-found and he never tries to be too lit-erary for his own good. Overall, it’sjust kind of like getting to knowsomeone during a long drive, pureand simple. –Josh (829 Main St,Saskatoon, SK S7H 0K2 Canada)

PROFANE EXISTENCE, #47, $5, 8½ x 11, 100 pgs.I’m stoked on P.E.’s new format:perfect-bound, full-color glossycover and offset printed. Higherprice but higher quality. Reallyclean layout and 90% of the photosare great. Interviews with Extinctionof Mankind, Blown to Bits, Ballast,Spoke Pizza Collective, Avskum,Iskra and punk artist KieranPlunkett—nice job on interviewingnon-band punks. Also features aJilted/Beyond Description tour jour-nal, and a lengthy, well-written arti-cle regarding the currentAdministration’s relation to theChristian Right and why it’s doingwhat it’s doing in regards to same-sex marriage. When I was a youngerkid, I’d pick up the occasional issueof P.E. but felt fairly disconnectedfrom its area of focus, music-wise.As it stands now, I still couldn’t givemuch of a shit about the bands theychoose to cover, but between the restof the material here and the fairlynewfound quality of the zine’s pre-sentation, I’m backing this one forsure. –Keith Rosson (ProfaneExistence, PO Box 8722,Minneapolis, MN 55408)

PROOF I EXIST, #6, $1, 5½ x 8½,photocopied, 32 pgs.Hand-written zine from a nice-sounding kid named Billy. He talksabout his dog, how much his dadrips, spitting on jocks that gave himshit, spending the night on the streetso he gets a small taste of what thehomeless experience every day.Nothing too earth-shattering; mostlywhat you see is what you get. Itwasn’t the most riveting read, but heseems like he’d be a fun kid to hangout with. –Keith Rosson (Proof IExist c/o Billy, 1357 W. Augusta #1,Chicago, IL 60622)

RETURN OF MONKEYS INTHE SUN, THE, $4 or trade, 5½ x8½, 52 pgs.Emma writes a fun zine full oflengthy show, record, and moviereviews. There are profiles on JohnWaters and Frida Kahlo, a traveldiary of the time she and herboyfriend spent in Mexico City anda nicely written memorial to JohnPeel. Nothing groundbreaking, butshe’s positive and excited abouteverything she writes about. There’sa monkey on every page and thecover is pasted over with cloth, col-ored paper, and even strips of weirdgreen and black fake fur; you cantell what you’re getting here, just bylooking at it. –Keith Rosson(Emma, 34 Sydney St., Brighton,BN1 4EP, UK)

SKATE AND ANNOY, Vol. 2 No.2, $3, 5½ x 6½, 54 pgs.As you can probably tell by the title,this is a skateboarding-related zine.The thing that makes it stand out,though, is that it’s put together bypeople who are really emotionallyinvested in it. As with any subcul-ture, there’s the people on one levelwho have a passing interest in itbecause it’s cool, and then there’sthe people with a deeper love for it.A good analogy for punk rock wouldbe Warped Tour versus basementshows, and Skate and Annoy is aperfect antidote to advertising-dri-ven skateboarding mags that aremarketed towards the people whoeat up the Tony Hawk video games.Even if you have no interest in skat-ing, this is still a great read becauseit’s done by people who have beenskating since before Hollywoodmade another Dogtown movie andwill still be skating when GilbertGodfried is hosting the newDogtown movie at two in the morn-ing on the USA Network. –Josh(3439 NE Sandy Blvd, PMB #666,Portland, OR 97232)

SNAKEPIT QUARTERLY, #11,$2, 5½ x 8½, 36 pgs.Goddamn, what can I say about thisone? Just about everyone readingRazorcake has probably read anissue of Snakepit. And if youhaven’t, check it out. The idea(three-panel comics for each day ofBen’s life) is brilliant, it’s hilarious-ly executed, and the capper is thatBen just financially squeaks by, con-sistently, by living his life. As in, heworks part time, plays in bands,tours, travels and does thesecomics—the debauchery of hislifestyle nearly fucking pays foritself. I’m the same age as Ben andknow that I just don’t have the samekind of stamina he does, whichmakes the reading of these comicsall the more compelling.Intellectual? Naw. That’s not, I don’tthink, the intent. Entertaining? Yes.Addictive? Sure. I’m a fan. Also: thecover’s another Christy Road piecethat’s just frickin gorgeous. –KeithRosson (Young Amercian Comics,4409 Illinois St., San Diego, CA 92116)

STATIONAERY, #4 and 5, $2.00each, 5½ x 8½, 24 pgs.This is the sort of thing that makesdoing these reviews worthwhile.Both of these issues are filled withfascinating pieces of short fictionand poetry, along with intriguing—sometimes breathtaking—art work.Their contributors come from allover the world, and offer a widevariety of viewpoints on life in the21st Century. They’re both so good Iactually re-read them, in their entire-ty. When was the last time you didthat with a zine? –Brian Mosher(Stationaery, 4456 Avenue delHotel-de-ville, Montreal, QuebecH2W2H5, Canada)

105

TED, #1, 4 x 4, 24 pgs.Ted is a cat. Ted is a bunch of pic-tures of Ted. Some are of Ted nap-ping, some are of Ted playing,some are of Ted walking, andsome are of Ted just chilling out,but it’s all Ted, all the time.There’s no address, but I bet ifyou point your browser towww.crap-aesthetic.com and dosome poking around, you mightfind this and you might find a tonof other cool stuff. –Josh(ted@crap-aesthetic.com)

UNDERGROUND SCREAMS,#2, free, donations accepted, 4 x 5, 20 pgs.The product of a cooperative typeoutfit, wanting simply to sharetheir creativity with anyone who’sinterested, this comes packagedinside a folded brown paper lunchbag. And it’s good stuff. Poetryaccompanied by original artwork,which consists of a variety of dif-ferent media—sketches, photog-raphy, cartoon-style illustrations.There’s no real theme, but it allhas to do with disenfranchisementand disenchantment with the sta-tus quo. Send these kids a coupleof bucks, or some stamps at least.–Brian Mosher (www.under-groundscreams.com)

UNDERGROUND SCREAMS,#2, free (but a donation might benice), 4 x 5½, 28 pgs.DIY-spirited zine that consistsalmost entirely of poetry and pho-tos. Their initial statement is that“anything can be art” and thatthey’ve put the zine out simply asa group of kids expressing theircreativity. A quick read; hit ‘emup if you want to read somepoems. –Keith Rosson (under-groundscreams@gmail.com)

VERBICIDE, #13, $3.95, 8 x 10 ½, glossy cover, bleached paper, 64 pgs.Jackson Ellis is putting together astronger and stronger zine. Theinterviews are thorough, interest-ing, and diverse (from IanMacKaye, to Amy Schroeder, edi-tor of the feminist magazineVenus, to a graffiti artist, to TimKerr). Verbicide is to the point ofthat they do what they do so well,I may not be initially interested ina subject or a person, but howthey approach them and interactwith them is engaging, memo-rable, and well worth the timespent reading. It’s a good mag byan editor who’s fighting the goodfight. –Todd(www.scissorpress.com)

WONKA VISION, #27, $2.95, 8½ x 11, 90 pgs.Okay. I have no ideological prob-lem with bands on major labels(or bigger indie labels, for thatmatter) or people that supportbands on major labels. I do, how-ever, have a problem with peoplethat support bands on major labelswaving the banner for indepen-dent music. Why put Jimmy EatWorld, who have never put out afull-length album on an indepen-dent record label ever, on yourcover under a banner that says,“Your source for independentmusic and thoughts.” If JimmyEat World thinks their place in theworld is on a major label, fine,and if you like Jimmy Eat World,that’s fine too, but for the love ofChrist, since when is independentmusic bankrolled by CapitolRecords? I mean, I understandthat there comes a time when yourealize that you’d like to make alittle bit of money off of a maga-zine that you put a lot of hardwork into, but there are ways todo that without having to put adsfor the new Juliette Lewis and theLicks album on the back cover,just like there are ways to be in aband without having a video onMTV2 and playing shows at rockvenues. –Josh (PO Box 63680,Philadelphia, PA 19147)

ZISK, #10, $2, 5½ x 6½, 22 pgs.I figure I’ve already run out ofways to creatively say, “ReadZisk, it rules,” but there’s some-thing I think I need to get off mychest. I never thought I’d say this,but there’s a little bit too muchClemens bashing in this issue. Imean, yeah, I hate the guy, too.Not only do I hate the guy, I hateevery team he’s ever played forjust by association. But you know,I read Zisk for a couple of quickjabs about what a poodle the guyis and then I’m ready to move on.I don’t need to see his stupid faceon every page (it’s actually onlyon one page, but it feels like everypage); nobody needs to see that,not even Hitler. Here’s my think-ing: maybe if we ignore him, he’lldisappear like Freddy in the firstNightmare on Elm Street movie. Itseems like the fact that he’s an oldasshole has actually helped hiscareer, so maybe he gets strongerevery time we make a joke abouthim? I don’t know. All I know isthat the guy has been playing pro-fessional baseball for the entireduration of my life so far and I’mwilling to try anything to makethat stop. Read Zisk, it rules.–Josh (801 EaglesRidge Rd, Brewster, NY 10509)

Alternative: 25 Poemsby Doug Saretsky, 27 pgs.

Doug Saretsky, guitarist of Envenomed andpublisher of Vile Dominion fanzine, has puttogether an often thought-provoking chap-book of twenty-five poems that continue thepoetic underbelly tradition of Rimbaud, theBeats, and Bukowski, and as with those Bardsof the Margin, Saretsky makes good use ofmetaphor to create some particularly wrench-ing images. He is particularly effective whenhe’s writing on topics such as the often ridicu-lous and clichéd nature of what is supposedlyavant garde. One of the best qualities ofSaretsky’s work is his thoughtful ruminationon how we unwittingly create traps for our-selves, be it a relationship, a job, needs andwants, or even more general and inclusiveconceptions such as what constitutes the“alternative” when defiance of conventional-ism becomes conventionalized itself, such asthe “garden variety punk rock shitheads” towhom he refers in “Columbus Damn Poem.”This is not to say that the poet is divestinghimself from the underbelly and creating anew underbelly beneath that one; at the sametime these poems convey a sense of pragma-tism regarding such traps and a begrudgingacceptance of the limitations of originality.Saretsky’s work senses the need to defy allconvention for its own sake, even the conven-tions of the “alternative,” but still acknowl-edges that we must knowingly participate inthe same community that is to be defied,negotiating the thin lines between creativerestlessness, comfort, and complacency.

The one problem that I have with Saretsky’swork is a matter of economy. His poems tend tohave a rambling, conversational style thatfreely uses enjambment over several lines.Admittedly, such unlimited application of freeverse is now quite the norm in the world ofmodern poetry, particularly among subculturesand the lunatic fringe who make use of freeverse for that very reason—a means of freeing

the poet from convention. Alas, as Saretsky’swork so succinctly points out regarding otherareas of alternative thought, even free verse hasbecome clichéd and banal, and I feel that toooften the ideas in these poems (and their power)are blunted by too many words finding theirway to the paper. Saretsky’s best poems in thisvolume are those in which he maintains morerigid control regarding the poetic image—poems in which there is brevity and economy inthe imagery, so that it has a much keener impacton the reader. Very often Saretsky’s final linesto a poem are wonderful in this regard; in a fewshort lines he will arrive at a brief yet powerfulconclusion to all that has come before, but I’dlike to see that powerful brevity throughout thepoem. –The Lord Kveldulfr (Black HoodyNation, 1970 Westwood Northern Blvd. #5,Cincinnati, OH 45225)

Angel Dust Apocalypseby Jeremy Robert Johnson

This collection of short stories is not diffi-cult in the literary sense; it is difficult in theshocking and nauseating visual image sense.Angel Dust Apocalypse hits the reader in theguts and goes to work.

The stories are void of heroes, and few ofthe characters possess any likable traits. Thetrue core of these tales seems to be the ideas,and not the humans created to act them out.Within these pages, the dark underbelly of thehuman subconscious is captured: those thingspeople think about but never mention, fearinga breach of proper human etiquette.

Johnson gives his readers extraordinarilydeep cuts out of a defining moment in thelives of his characters. They find themselvesin situations that few have experienced, butthat many of us carry in the back of ourminds along with our deepest fears. Theyfind themselves on bad trips, riddled withparasites, facing nuclear holocaust, surren-dering to their own delusions, and cravingattention so desperately that they are willing

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to employ any means necessary.There are no happy endings. In fact, none of the

stories contain any real denouement. The reader isleft with an imprint on their psyche, and free to drawtheir own conclusions, which are often more grislyand elaborate than any definitive words laid downby an author.

I could not put down this book once I picked itup. I am not sure if it was because I was soenthralled by the imaginatively gruesome scenar-ios, or because of the realization that the sooner Istopped reading, the sooner I would be left with mythoughts, free to imagine each tale's conclusion.–Denise (Eraserhead Press, 205 NE Bryant,Portland, OR 97211, eraserheadpress.com)

Comics Journal, The, #267, $9.95, 204 pp.Wow, i think i used to cut up copies of this mag-

azine in the ‘80s to make collages for my fanzine,except it used to be a little more... uh... geez... “nor-mal” back then. You know, it had staples in the mid-dle, and superheros on the cover, and black and whitenewsprint on the insides—kinda what you’d expectfrom a magazine about comic books. Somewhere, inthe interceding years, The Comics Journal hasbecome this sort of dry, scholarly, almost academicsquare-bound tome that has little more graphic gustothan a tech school course catalog. SAMPLE DIA-LOGUE: “...here is graphically the reason why mostmoderns cannot be brought to any penetrating orrupturing realizations about the culture that has themin thralldom. ‘Postmodernism’ is a presumptuousacademicist school of theorizing that assumed theprevious and arcane ‘death of modernity’ bestowssome kind of privileged standpoint on their thinking.In actuality postmodernists are nothing but crypto-modernists par excellence, selective and self-unre-flective enforcers of the modern ideological impris-onment: they are bourgeois intellectuals who imaginethey can intellectualize their way out of being bour-geois.” ... uh... okay, so we won’t be discussing NewAvengers any time soon, i take it? I mean, geez, i’mall for high thinking and such, but i tend to like mycomic book related discourse a bit more lowbrow, i’mafraid. I also tend to like my comic book related dis-course to not cost me ten bucks. Then again, i’m kindof a comic book dumbass who has read little else butMarvel and DC superhero books for the last thirty-five years, so consider the source. In any event, thisissue is heavy on features on the recently departedWill Eisner, which is cool... they actually devoteabout forty straight pages to reprinting some ofEisner’s early work, but the fact that two big chunksof said forty pages are given to “A Medal forBowzer” and “The Sad Case of Waiting RoomWillie”—essentially pro-animal experimentation andanti-socialized medicine propaganda comics—kindof seems like a poor choice of materials, if you askme. I’d write a letter of complaint, but i can’t spell“bourgeois” without using spell-check, so i guessthey’re off the hook. –Rev. Nørb (FantagraphicsBooks, 7563 Lake City Way NE, Seattle WA 98115)

For Workers’ Power: The Selected Writings ofMaurice Brintonby Maurice Brinton, edited by David Goodway, 380 pgs.

Holy shit, I am out of my league here. Where’sMaddy Tight Pants? She actually knows what she’stalking about. She actually comprehends this stuff.She actually reads a paragraph like “...And stress thatno collective autonomy is meaningful which does nothave organizational repercussions. Autonomousactivity and life—whether in the realm of practice orin the realm of ideas—is impossible in hierarchically-structured organizations. As Bookchin points out ‘the

tragedy of the socialist movement is that itopposes organization to spontaneity and tries toassimilate the social process to political andorganizational instrumentalism” and under-stands it, probably fairly effortlessly, the firsttime she reads it. Not me. I feel that I am, atbest, vastly unqualified to review this thing. It’sa tome. It’s a gorgeous book, but it’s a tome:380-some pages, tight leading, ten-point type,footnotes galore. There is a lot of stuff here andfrankly, by the time I finished Dave Goodway’sintroduction (seventeen pages in and of itself)and footnotes, I was already overwhelmed. So,the following consists of what I, a fucking doltwhen it comes to even the basest tenets ofsocialism and/or libertarianism (which is whatthe majority of this book covers), could cull anddecipher from For Workers’ Power.

1) Members of libertarian/ socialist/ anarchistgroups in 1960s Britain disbanded, splintered,reformed, and switched teams more thanDischord bands did back in1988.

2) Though not entirely, the majority of thisbook actually consists of Maurice Brinton’screative translations of Cornelius Castoriades’swritings in French for Solidarity, a magazine/pamphlet outlet/ activist group with whichBrinton was involved with for years.

3) Brinton is at his best when he manages tomerge political theory with personal experi-ence—his diary entries from both the BelgianGeneral Strike of 1960 and yeah, his twoweeks spent in Paris in May of 1968 are primeexamples—when he writes like this, Brintonis able to build a body out of a working skele-ton of political theory and the flesh-and-blood, I-was-there quality of eyewitness testi-mony, something that’s practically necessaryif you want to keep the attention of a readerwith my less-than-working knowledge ofsocialism and/or libertarianism.

4) As a whole, I admire AK Press—as ananarchist publishing house it’s seemingly inde-fatigable, one that’s done an incredible amountto resuscitate and reprint old (but still valid andimportant) texts and collections and make themavailable to a new readership. At the same time,like many of their titles, I wouldn’t suggest thisone for the layperson just getting into thetopic—at times Brinton’s writing is incrediblystiff, and there are internal references to somany other texts and authors (the majority ofthem dating back to the ‘60s or earlier) that it’seasy to become overwhelmed. Still, I’d imaginethat those with a working knowledge of social-ism and libertarianism, and those familiar withBrinton and his output, would be thrilled tohave so much of his previously-out-of-printwork collected into one book. –Keith Rosson(AK Press, 674-A 23rd Street, Oakland, CA94612-1163)

Orlando’s Punk Rock Flashback & Tattoo Art BookCompiled by Orlando Januar, 128 pgs.

Orlando Januar is the guy who’s publishedthe Swiss fanzine Artcore for about a billionyears. This book, like the title states, compilestons of his tattoo flash, as well as everythingfrom old shirt and poster designs to record cov-ers and even Christmas cards he’s drawn. It’sobviously a labor of love; tons of work wentinto the visual presentation of the material here.Januar’s style, if not his content, is pretty tradi-tional; it’s solid, mostly brush-drawn stuff that

reminds me a bit of Crumb stuff or those oldhippie comics, The Fabulous Furry Freak Bros.As far as the content: there’s the requisite col-lections of skulls, punks with guitars, womenwith monstrous boobs, rats, etc. He’s as consis-tent in his execution when he’s doing color stuffas he is when he’s just doing black and whiteimages, and that’s pretty amazing, consideringthere’s material here that dates back twenty-fiveyears. Subsections of the book include “T-shirts& Logos,” “Record Covers,” “Fanzine Covers& Illustrations,” and “Pin Ups”; the second halfof the book is made up of his tattoo stuff, whichI found to be less interesting, if only because thetats and sketches he included are less of a cul-tural and historical landmark of a lifestyle andtype of music that I love, and more of just aseries of images. Plus, his tattoo work, whilesolid, is made up of stuff like hearts, flowers,dragons, tigers; stuff that doesn’t really interestme.

This thing’s self-financed and limited to1,200 copies—the love and care is totally evi-dent. Hopefully he’ll find good distribution forthe book, sell out, and eventually even be ableto reprint it. Someone who’s been working thistirelessly for this long, I think, should havesomething like this—some kind of testament,some gathered collection of his output. My onlycomplaints, and they’re minor, is that some ofthe backgrounds of some of the images have somuch Photoshopped alterations and coloringthat it detracts from the actual image itself. Andsecondly, this guy has been around forever—Iwould have loved to have had at least a minoramount of information accompanying theimages, beyond “Single Cover” or “A QuitePopular T-Shirt Design.” But again, minor com-plaints; the book’s beautiful and Januar’sworked long and hard on the material in here;he deserves all the praise he’ll undoubtedly getfrom this. –Keith Rosson (ZCM Records/RoadTo Ruin Europe, Josef & Shelley Loderer, AmKesselhuas 9, 79576 Weil am Rhein, Germany,www.zcmrecords.com)

Rocket to Riyadh: Tales from the Terror AgeBy Jason Galore

I’ve seen how long the Razorcake bookreviews get, and how long they normally are,and although I quite enjoyed Galore’s writingstyle I’m not so sure I can fill up that muchspace talking about it. The book is divided intofour parts. The first part, entitled “TheMachine Does No Good, It’s Gotta Go,” is awonderful story that is totally Sean Carswellmeets Hunter S. Thompson set against a back-drop of post 9-11 United States’ politics andday-to-day life. The rest of the book reads likea blog or journal that purposely melts proseand poetry, fiction and non-fiction. To tell youthe truth, I’ve never really kept a journal, I’venever REALLY had a blog, and I’ve neverbeen addicted to reading them, so the rest ofthe book kind of lost my interest. If Galore hadkept the book going as he had started it by fol-lowing the story with similar short stories orby continuing the web of a plot he had begun,this book might have become a quick favorite.–Mr. Z (Jason Galore is Famous, LLC, 24500Galena Ave., Belle Plaine, MN 56011)

Blank the World: DVDSigns of the impending apocalypse: 1) Whenpunk-oriented groups and their releases shyaway from profanity. In this case, there seemsto be an aversion to the word “fuck” in thetitling of this disc. If you’re fucking afraid touse the fucking word, don’t even fuckingallude to it, as you just fucking look like abunch of fucking half-stepping sellout fucks.And don’t think the irony of so-called “punk”DVD makers being averse to the word “fuck”while happily including a promo for another oftheir DVDs featuring dumb so-called “punkchicks” showing off their tits and scumbagrock stars cooing and bragging about fuckingsaid chicks is lost on the viewer—ain’t no hes-itation to exploit the drunk and the stupid, butgod forbid you should threaten sales by includ-ing a profane word in the title. 2) When aninternational collection of fifteen bands yieldsa grand total of one good song from one band,and that band is the Blind Pigs, while the otherfourteen sound like they’re content to phone inwatered down approximations of pop and“street” punk. Seeing as in a lot of the countriesrepresented, sporting a mohawk is tantamountto open rebellion against the government and,therefore, punishable by death, one can’t helpbut wonder if this is a collection of govern-ment-approved faux punk bands. Given theinflux of “Christian punk” bands in recentyears, it ain’t all that far outta the realm of pos-sibility. 3) When your average coffee housefolksinger is more of a threat to the status quothan the average “overground” punk band, andthese bands are only too happy to demonstratethis fact. 4) When a DVD this bad, thiswretched, this utterly lacking in any sort ofquality or interest is not only made, but actual-ly has a market. 5) That it is only one of thou-sands of bad, bad “punk” DVDs being market-ed out there. This DVD is soooo beyond beinglabeled as shit. This is stuff that even shit does-n’t want to be associated with. Let’s just hopethat when the apocalypse does start revving up,the people responsible for this are on the frontline, sans weapons. –Jimmy Alvarado(www.intermediavideo.com)

Climb off Ease up and Suck Down: DVDWow, great bands and little skits in a DVD—and it’s rad. Recess Records buddies, so loadsof stuff in San Pedro, and bands that sort of runin that circle. Craig Flipy put it all togetherfrom tons of videotape of dicking around andbands playing live and hanging out. A wonder-ful antithesis to Live at House of Rules arenashows—this is live footage in record stores,bite-sized clubs, warehouses, fucking bed-rooms and a concrete slab at the beach. Withthe stage exception of the great DillingerFour… but yeah, coz it’s them… duh. Loadsand loads and choads of the best current bandslike Toys That Kill, Leeches, Fleshies andShark Pants and more, mixed with rare stufflike Panty Raid and the late, lamented Blacks(AZ). And the skits… usually it’s only funny ifyou know them. I stand corrected. Two hoursof funnin. Get it before Bigfoot does.–Speedway Randy (Recess Records, PO Box1666, San Pedro, CA 90733-1666)

Tales of the Unexplained: DVDIt seems like this is a collection of fourepisodes from a failed TV Show, sort of alongthe lines of In Search Of or Ripley’s Believe it

or Not. They pretty much cover all of thebases—aliens, serial killers, ghosts, vampires,monsters, all that kinda stuff. Each episode isnarrated documentary style, a la UnsolvedMysteries, but pretty low-budget, giving it thefeel of a local news broadcast. My guess is thatthese episodes were all shot together to use asa TV series, and it never got picked up, butthey figured they might as will put it on aDVD, since they went to the trouble to make itanyway. It’s fun, and it’s about as good as any-thing else on TV. –Ben Snakepit (CrescentEntertainment, no address)

Toxic Narcotic: Live in Boston: DVDYou gotta love Toxic Narcotic’s dedication tothe ’core. After nearly sixteen years, they con-tinue to be active in the punk scene, both local-ly and internationally. Even if I haven’t adoredevery single release that their Rodent Popsiclelabel has put out, I freely concede that their hitvs. miss ratio is extraordinarily high, and thisDVD easily falls under the “hit” column.Recorded live at a show celebrating their fif-teenth anniversary, all the stops were pulledand they cranked out one fine document of thisband at their finest, with multiple cameras, 5.1surround sound, a spirited performance andsome wild ass fans going bonkers. You gettwenty-two songs here, with most of their hitsrepresented (although “Beer in the Shower” isnoticeably and annoyingly absent), plus a cou-ple of bonus videos and some footage of theirfans waiting to get in. While it could be arguedthat few hardcore bands deserve such a fussthese days, there is no question that ToxicNarcotic is one of those bands. –JimmyAlvarado (Rodent Popsicle, PO Box 1143,Allston, MA 02134)

X: Live in Los Angeles: DVDOutside of saying that Exene’s embarrassinglyclumsy attempts at self-promotion and secur-ing her place in the punk rock hall of fame haveeffectively killed the mountains of respect Ionce had for her, I will try to limit my com-ments to those of an X fan, which I have con-sidered myself for more than two decades.While I won’t go so far as to say that they arethe be-all and end-all of Los Angeles punk, asI think no band can possibly embody an entirescene, I will say that they are one of many thatmolded how L.A. punk was regarded. Being afervent follower of the punk rock religion, Ihave partaken many, many times of the LosAngeles/Wild Gift/Under the Big BlackSun/More Fun in the New World communionwafers and continue to do so regularly.Needless to say, this was well worth the time ittook to watch it. Everything about the produc-tion is just great, from the camera editing to thesound, the latter of which was handled by BillyZoom himself. The band is in as fine a form as

I remember them ever being. They look greatand, more importantly, they sound great, whichis saying quite a bit considering their “prime”was more than twenty years ago. While italways feels like a burn when a band stickssolely to their tried and true “hits” rather thanexpending the effort to come up with newmusic, in the case of X it seems to be a betteridea to do things this way, as anything they’vedone from Ain’t Love Grand to the present hasbeen, um, not too hot. One need do nothingmore than play “Sex and Dying in HighSociety” and “Burning House of Love” back toback to see how bad things truly got. Here theyrun through twenty-one tracks of some of theirfinest work, from the opener, “Your Phone’sOff the Hook (but You’re Not)” to the closingcover of the Doors’ “Soul Kitchen,” and whileit would’ve been nice to hear renditions of “IMust Not Think Bad Thoughts” or rarities like“Heater” or “Delta 88,” the tunes they do serveup are done so well that you don’t miss whatthey didn’t do. Watching this reminded me ofwhy I dug ’em so long ago: not only were theirsongs intelligent and intellectual without com-ing off as pretentious, they fucking rocked, andthey still fucking rock. That, my friends, iswhat is most important, and that is what pissesme off most about Ms. Cervenka throwing herego around: if you rock, the world knows it,and Exene can rest assured that their place inthe punk pantheon is quite secure. Take a cuefrom your band mates and humbly let otherstoot your horn for you. –Jimmy Alvarado(www.shoutfactory.com)