Poppy, self-loathing, and self-rewarding bedroom punk from Philly, with a distorted recording that really lends it a fuzzy, warm vibe. The vocals make me think of BAD SLEEP and BIG EYES, but with way more bummer subject matter. Aileen Wuornos samples between songs let you know these people are on the right side. Killer.
The band was looking forward to being included in the last print issue of MRR, so our apologies that it looks like they missed that boat. This is some real high-energy, spazzy, angry punk that bounces back and forth between screamy streetpunk and legit ska-punk. The best parts are the fast, crunchy riffs that sound a little like early GRIMPLE. They also mention that they recently recorded a split with MDC.
This record really makes me realize that the only difference between a lot of the “cheesy” pop-punk that gets compared to NOFX and the “authentic” pop punk that gets compared to CRIMPSHRINE is production value. BAD YEAR’s songs are pretty great, but I kind of can’t get past the squeaky-clean delivery. There are moments where the grittiness sneaks in, but most of it lands closer to SCREECHING WEASEL. Hand-screened, one-sided, four-song picture disc.
No, not that BLACK DOTS band! I have to admit that I gave this one sided twelve incher an extra spin, because it looks like April from VENA CAVA plays bass in this outfit, and she is a stellar human being. This is well polished, Fest-ready, gruff melodic stuff. Despite it not being my favorite genre, it’s pretty fun, and at the last second they show off some FUEL influences, which is always acceptable in my book.
BOZO SHMO was a weird, freaky clown-punk band that existed in the mid-to-late ’80s on the eastern seaboard (New York?) and is definitely hard to pin down. When I looked at this LP and saw people dressed up like a low-budget hobo circus with big smiles, you better believe that I had my doubts. There are only five studio tracks on here, while the rest of the LP is made up of live recordings (good quality) and practice recordings (fair quality). Some of it sounds like new wave-y ’80s synth punk that makes me think of the DICKIES, DANCING CIGARETTES, and even traces of LOST KIDS. It can be super catchy, but then they trail off into super maniac mode. It can get really goofy and “zany,” treading into territory that is not unlike a less technical MR BUNGLE, or just outright freak-out music. They also cover the RAMONES, JIMI HENDRIX, and more, making it all their own. There is an archival zine included, which gives you a hint of what it might have been like to see a bunch of fucked up clowns on stage playing manic freak shit in 1988. I’m still confused.
Hyper-speedy post-punk earbuzz that comes on like the staccato hammering of a Morse code operator after a wrap of sulphate. Two tracks of kinetic pop that will wait for you in the subway underpass to mug you on the way home from the pub. At less than four minutes all told, it’s an all too brief introduction that will leave the listener with a sore jaw and a jones for more.
Moments like this are exactly why it’s such a pleasure to review records for Maximum Rocknroll. BUTTERFLY are a long-running traditional Japanese hardcore band (first album released in 2005) that I’ve never heard or even heard of before, and they absolutely destroy! This is exactly what you want to hear when you’ve got an itch for burly, aggressive, and uniquely Japanese hardcore punk. The backbone is hard rocking hardcore Á la TETSU ARREI plus touches of GASTUNK-style melodrama, with crazy over the top guitar solos, some of which are double-tracked in the style of DEATH SIDE. Singer Nora stands out as the female analogue of Tokurow of BASTARD, or Butaman of aforementioned TETSU ARREI: ultra-tough, but musical as well—super impressive! Really though, every member of the band gets to shine, especially drummer Tsukasa, whose playing has a creative jazzy feel that produces some unexpected and very catchy results. To top it all off, this self-produced CD includes excellent, if menacing, artwork by the rising multimedia artist Mega!
Could this lot really be related to my beloved JUMPIN’ BEANS AND WILLIE??? ’Tis true, but of an altogether different bewildering bash. CELEB HANDSIES wallop mightily from the jump: noize noise noize and barking weirdness that would do the Bulb and Blackjack imprints proud. Four really rough gems in total, each “centered” by the maddening-yet-spirited blur of their attack (drums, guitar scree, unhinged keys, bleeding and blown “production”). I was not prepared for this…Goddamn. Now I must obsess over their every move.
Midwestern hardcore punk with the requisite discordance and an adolescent-sounding voice that cracks constantly. You can’t fake this shit.
If band names like EA80 or FLIEHENDE STÜRME mean anything to you, you can safely file DIE ANGST in the same category: a very specific style of somber, dramatic German punk music that’s mainly distinguishable by a low-moaning vocal style, deep from the diaphragm, with every line held out for optimal dramatization. Like if Ian Curtis fronted a discordant German rock band. The vocal style is often a deal-breaker for some folks, but I like it. Four solid laments here, for the fifteenth year of their miserable existence, plus short intro / outro tracks. For fans of the aforementioned bands, or all things comparable to KILLING JOKE.
Loose, lurching rhythms and often tuneless and sarcastic vocal tone both result in a jarring listen. I’m getting an overall very ’90s grunge, noisy alt-rock feel from this Minneapolis duo. All five cuts are ugly, tense, and grating music that I cannot say I find appealing. Aside from an occasional vocal hook, I find most of this to be indistinguishable from one moment to the next.
Equal parts punk(er) CONCRETE BLONDE and pretty alt-rock. Very professional.
Cinematic and psychedelic rock from the Netherlands, complete with a ’60s garage tilt. Shine sounds like a true catch-all for this lot, as they freely try their hand at straight organ fuzz, campy go-go schlock, “vintage future” sci-fi traipsing, and general turkeyisms. As is so often the case with this thang, it’s got all the makings of wonderful night out at the garrrrage gig, but it’s not the sort of record you’ll throw on at home for a casual cruise.
Four tracks of pile-driving metallic punk. This trio has obviously listened to lots of early ANTHRAX and METALLICA, and end up sounding like a decent STRAW DOGS (the post FU’s metal band).
GUFF aren’t “traditional Norwegian hardcore” per se, though I’m hearing some ANGOR WAT influence in the guitar. What’s not to enjoy about the pure and honest scrappiness, scratchy riffs, and drum gallop? They sound fresh and unpretentious, dishing out relatable hardcore punk that’s not rehashed. Yes, please please send me more releases from fresh new Norwegian punk and hardcore bands!
So far as I can tell, HOWL IN THE TYPEWRITER have been a mainstay of the UK underground punk/electronic/noise scene since the ’80s. Indeed, I probably traded tapes with this chap back in the days when that’s what any self-respecting/somewhat self-aware young punker did with their time and dole money. Like many such projects, it’s the brainchild and labor of love of one individual. And this effort is a single-track concept album about the evils of consumerism, advertising, and all the bad stuff betwixt both. Clocking in at just over an hour, and with a mishmash of stylings that includes thrashy punk, noise, and electronica; with lots of cut-ups, loops, jingles, adverts and stuff in between songs, it’s considerably more akin to CRASS’s Yes Sir, I Will than NOFX’s The Decline or the SUBHUMANS’s From the Cradle to the Grave (or even the DAMNED’s “Curtain Call”), but there you have it. Dozens of other underground luminaries add their vocal stylings to the oft-repeated refrain that runs through: “We don’t fucking want / what you’re trying to fucking sell / shove it up your fucking arse / then fuck off and go to hell.” At its best, it reminds me of CHUMBAWAMBA’s Pictures of Starving Children Sell Records, along with the AUTONOMADS. My six-year-old kids thought it sounded “pretty crazy.”
Although this should immediately be picked up by the seven remaining folk punks out there, don’t let that be a turnoff. This is the shit! With just four hits, sung in Spanish, there’s not only really fucking beautiful violin and pedal steel guitar with proper crooning, enough to satisfy any train ridin’ shithead or redneck country music aficionado, but also some straight up street punk for when your friends come around. The leaps from genre to genre are fucking sweet, and not painfully forced like a lot of the shit that you heard way too much way back when. Get this ASAP!
A two-fer of malted Wisconsin gunk. There are bolstered chops across LAST SONS OF KRYPTON’s unexpected resurrection, both mental and musical, which is pleasantly surprising. They haven’t gone prog or anything, as this is still heavily indebted to Back From Samoa and similar sounds / spirit. Everyone grows up though, even LAST SONS OF KRYPTON! The FOAMERS? (nifty intentional punctuation) are shit-fi two-guy trash, barely together, but optimum for a basement rager. Tunes skip between jokers and rockers, all primitive but barely memorable. Neither side prompts repeat spins, but this could prove to be a winner with the locals-only crowd.
LAUNCHER plays manic punk that sounds more solidified, tighter, and crazier than their demo from last year, which was already good. They have hooks and melody, but also a wonky weirdness in the guitar that is part Greg Ginn and part just maniac energy. Total fucking bounce-off-the-walls punk. FREAKEES is more straightforward, with deranged, reverb-y vocals that are on the edge of a nervous breakdown at all times. They have an intense energy and rawness that I feel is lacking in much straightforward punk, and this is excellent to my ears.
Freaky robot punk about video games, killer zombie dicks, and sentient mustaches. If there is a such a thing as artsy metalcore, this is probably it. Simultaneously silly, fun, and totally terrifying.
Absolutely no information, save for a sticker that says “UHHUH,” but this is killer and has been on constant repeat. Just two quick songs, but a perfect mesh of spastic garage and drugged-out dancey teen angst (most likely played by old dudes). Low-budget sweet rock! Check it!
OK, so this LP actually came out several years ago, not long after Lou caught his last train uptown. As the title implies, it collects Reed’s earliest work, and does a pretty comprehensive job at that—the two doo wop-tinged tracks by the JADES date all the way back to the late 1950s. It’s not entirely clear how much (if any) the teenaged Reed is on that recording, but he did at least write one song and co-write the other. Most of the rest of the material is culled from early-to-mid-’60s releases, during which time Lou earned a living writing and performing knock-offs of popular music trends such as rock’n’roll and surf. My favorite here is the PRIMITIVES, an ensemble also featuring John Cale, Tony Conrad, and Walter de Maria. Don’t get too excited, though—their track “The Ostrich” is a nice palate-cleanser on other VELVETS boots, but as the standout here, it’s not quite enough to recommend this LP to anyone outside VU completists. Also featured is a rare Reed solo demo of “Heroin” from 1965.
Eight-song effort of fairly high-octane garage rock’n’roll. There’s some great guitaring in here, with lots of squeals and false harmonics, and riffage that’d make the STOOGES proud. The frontman is horribly off-key with the histrionic vocals, which I can’t really get past. The band is rocking, though.
Max is maybe the most prolific musician in the Bay Area right now, seemingly releasing something on cassette or vinyl almost monthly. On this release, Max augments found (?) sounds, field recordings, skronky gear, tape manipulations, broken shit, and saxophones, bending them to his will and creating a wall of cacophonous collapse. Max feels life, and you should feel it with him.
Holy fuck, I love the weird vocal harmonies on Finnish punk like this. Both are perfectly lo-fi—I can’t tell if these are full bands, or just a kid in his bedroom and Garageband. At some times sounding like ANDY CIGARETTES going through puberty, and at other times a teenager singing their own lyrics over the radio. This seems like it’s inspired by the early ’80s Finnish stuff I stumbled upon, like KOLLAA KESTÄÄ and RATSIA, but honestly, it’s just rad cheap punk with killer vocal melodies, and is totally and completely worth your time.
This starts out with something that pretty much just sounds like a later GRANDADDY song, just not as catchy or witty. The record moves on from that to sound a little more pop punk / indie rock, sort of like WEAKERTHANS with a hint of BUILT TO SPILL. It’s mid-tempo to mellow, with fairly clean guitars and slightly nasal, sung vocals. It’s not mind blowing, but it’s reasonably catchy.
Solid jams with anthemic riffs from Queens, New York. There’s far more than meets the ear at first. This record avoids the generic monotony of gruff bro pop punk, and steers more into the direction of being a little more musical, with thoughtful guitar leads and a killer vocal performance. Definitely something for fans of current sad, nuanced, wall-of-sound melodic punk like VACATION to check out.
This split by two American bands comprised of Filipino immigrants—with lyrics in Tagalog—is blazing fast and fist-pumpingly riffy. Though it’s definitely a hardcore record, both bands flirt with D-beat quite a bit. The NAMATAY SA INGAY side reminds me of some stuff WARCRY has put out over the years, while the ANINOKO side sort of has more of a CRUDOS vibe, or even AUS-ROTTEN. ANINOKO’s lyrics are translated into English, and delve into colonization, inequality, and the exploitation of immigrant workers. Though NAMATAY SA INGAY’s side is not translated, the insert says the band is “influenced by ’80s Pinoy punk bands and stories from the third world.” Overall, I think this is a very important release to cop. The tone of US punk in 2019 has centered around lifting the voices of immigrants and minorities, and for decades, bands comprised of immigrants and minorities have been left off of shows, and labels have failed to give them a chance to reach a larger audience. Bands like ANINOKO and NAMATAY SA INGAY are as punk as it gets and, as I saw at an ANINOKO show in San Francisco, bring a lot of joy to punks who feel as though they are being represented in the music they love.
While it may be best to lump NOX NOVACULA under goth or post-punk, that would do a disservice to their sound. While many goth-inspired bands worship at the feet of ’80s mainstays, this EP has a very modern feel, and one inspired by acts that have been inspired by the post-metal world. The tense verses in “Hitchhiker” scream CHELSEA WOLFE or MARRIAGES, which give way to a more dark punk sounding chorus that provides both a sense of resolution and desperation at the same time. “Drug” has a bit more of an atmospheric feel, perhaps thanks to the synths, with a danceable chorus that somehow adds to the tumult of the vocalist’s lyrics. In all, the variety and originality in this little EP could win over deathrock naysayers.
This is sort of long-winded, noisy indie rock. The whole thing is pretty fuzzy and spacey, but also very bright due to the guitars and the cymbals being real up front. The monotone vocals are sparse, sitting pretty far in the back, and not doing a whole lot to add to the music. At their best, the band has a ’90s indie rock feel, something like CHAVEZ in its catchy aspects and the interplay of the two prominent guitars. At their worst, the songs feel like they go on forever with unending instrumental parts. This would be really good if edited.
This is RED MASS’ first LP, which seems strange since they have been releasing records since 2008. RED MASS is an eclectic group of musicians led by Choyce, formerly of LES SEXAREENOS, THE DAYLIGHT LOVERS, and many other bands. Their music is an amalgamation of post-punk and modern garage rock. It’s fuzzy with pointy edges. It slowly creeps to the edges of the room. The vocals are serious and intense, but subtle. The combination sounds really nice.
What timing: I just returned from seeing RED CRO$S do Born Innocent live, and am still trying to collect myself. What a band—rabid obsessives that dreamed themselves into becoming one of Los Angeles’ all-time finest. That life-altering love of rock’n’roll is the very blood pumping through Teen Babes From Monsanto, their all-covers sophomore album from 1984, reissued now with revamped pin-up teen-dream cover art to boot. As the McDonald brothers cruise through STOOGES, KISS, and ROLLING STONES tunes (to name a handful), they reimagine the material via punk fandom and pure love, eschewing the nihilism & violence so often associated with the time and place for a tongue-in-cheek, glitter-rained rock-star dreamworld. It’s easy to get caught up, and that’s the goddamn point. One to reach for when all the shit’s got you down.
Angsty grrrl rock that is fun. The music is a harder edged metallic rock style, straightforward with no fluff. The vocalists harmonize in a ’60s girl group way. The songs joke about poseurs, haters, and gossip, and include a heavy cover of INXS. ROTTIES are rocking to get their frustrations out, and having a good time while doing it.
Anguished and furious hardcore punk from Toronto, with an overt anarcho-punk delivery. Breakdowns are everywhere, whether in the early ’00s screaming proto-grind or the dual-vocal ’90s euro-crust. There are some very ripping death metal riffs on here, with waves of pop punk, melodic hardcore, and D-beat. Songs clock in at about two minutes each, which is perfect, leaving me ready for more.
A solid debut from old hands from VIOLENT ARREST, GERIATRIC UNIT, FOUR LETTER WORD and MEATFLY. Perfidious Albion (an 18th Century French term of “Treacherous Britain” ) essentially reunites three quarters of HERESY, with Welly from Artcore zine on vocals. The early brute and mechanical Boston hardcore is such, plus underlying influence of a large swath of mid-’80s UKHC, and while this doesn’t seize on the speed of SIEGE that was so influential to that generation, it does echo some of that The Kids Will Have Their Say-style blunt, fast straightforward hardcore, twisted around a melodic, chorus-driven core. The strife and shadow of Brexit looms hard in these eight tracks, reactive in the best way of early hardcore. The vocals snarl over the top with clear condemnation of current greed, the soullessness of the digital world, the rise of the right wing, and horrific government rulers, while also reflecting about personal achievement and growth. It’s a worthy outing, with careful attention to the sleeve, and a great recording that captures their interesting balance of biting hardcore and punchy melodic punk—but maybe a nudge harder in either direction would sink the teeth in deeper.
Completely predictable, indie infused, dad punk from Grand Rapids. A real hard listen over here.
Anthemic, self-professed dad-punk. Their mix of classic ’80s US punk and catchy ’77 UK works frighteningly well, and I dare say that this one is a fair mark above their debut effort. This isn’t what I would reach for unprovoked, but fukk me if it isn’t great.
A trio of guitar and harmony-drenched “college rock” punk efforts, along the lines of Creator-era LEMONHEADS and the first MOVING TARGETS LP. These aging ears are delighted that the kids are still kicking out the melodic jams in this genre.
Although I had never heard of STATE DRUGS, it came as no surprise that it was some Americana type stuff which, if you know me, you know I’ll get down with that shit if I have to. Musically, this kinda comes off as WALLFLOWERS, but with an even less inspired singer. Some subdued PAVEMENT feels every now and then, but not enough to grab me and take me on a wild ride. NATO has an organ in the band now (or maybe I just forgot), which just solidifies his weird-yet-unchallenged position as the absolute best “E Street” punk you ever did hear, which, I gotta admit, I can be a fan of sometimes. Oh yeah, the organ on this gives off a total BLUES BROTHERS vibe, which I totally made fun of the first time, but here I am listening to it again. A few whiffs of early LUCERO-style songwriting seem to be creeping into his usual REPLACEMENTS / BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN-inspired tunes this time around. The punks are gonna trash this, for sure, but if you already like Nato’s stuff, these new songs ain’t bad.
Classic example of do not judge an album by its cover. This one looks pretty gothy, maybe psychobilly-ish. However, the music on the disc is more of an indie rock nature. It’s sweeping and sincere, and the singer is schizophrenic. The record lists only one singer, yet he sounds like different singers from song to song. He reminds me of GUY PICCIOTTO, then DAVE GROHL, then D. BOON, and so on. I enjoy the experimentation, and encourage it.
My presumption is that this German trio named themselves after the seminal RAZZIA 1983 LP of that name—RAZZIA also being a German band. Given that, to paraphrase ALL (sort of), “we don’t speak German, we just love German bands that sing in their native tongue, particularly those from the ’80s.” While this doesn’t quite rank with the best of RAZZIA, it nonetheless channels enough of those slightly off-kilter melodic late ’80s / early ’90s hardcore bands such as FARSIDE, PEGBOY, and SQUIRRELBAIT, that I can’t help but love this disc. And they do sing in German. So no complaints whatsoever. Save that I still have no idea what “Tag Ohne Schatten” means, let alone what they (or RAZZIA, for that matter) are singing about. But it sure does sound good!
This is somehow both super polished and shambling DIY-style RUNAWAYS worship from Finland…. The B-Side is a “Cherry Bomb” cover in Finnish, and has a sick falling apart REMO VOOR fee. The flip side is super sincere sounding: more polished but still charming and cool—totally worth checking out! Cover photo of the band looks like it could have been taken in 1976 or 1982 or 1992 or last week and the record has that feel too.
It’s dark, heavy, and grungy, but up-tempo. It’s sloppy rock with repetitive bass lines, fuzzy guitars, and reverb-heavy, monotone vocals. It’s like a gothy version of the PIXIES. It all felt a little like a boring wall of sound mess until it got to the last song, and all of a sudden it’s real cool. It’s more dynamic, the guitar strings are getting bent out of tune, but it’s actually real catchy, and despite the repetitive nature of all the band’s songs, this one feel fresh. At the very least, you should check out “Closer.”
This tape has ten tracks of blown-out fuzz pop. Song after song of anthemic melodies, recorded in a shack somewhere in Oregon. The band is from Austin, but may have picked up something in the air from Denton, Texas—there are echoes of MARKED MEN, REDS, etc., although the closest comparison that comes to mind is the THERMALS. Great stuff overall.
This appears to be the first complete and definitive singles / EPs collection from this Belfast group. The ’78—’79 material is classic jagged-edged adolescent punk with a dash of that mandatory pop that’s evident in basically every Irish punk band from the ’70s. Sort of akin to more distinguished and catchy ’70s punk like THE ADVERTS, but far more juvenile. I hadn’t previously ventured into the ’80-’85 material, and turns out they predictably become more refined, with prominent new wave tendencies, but the tunes remain enjoyable, or at least listenable. Song themes don’t stray far from love, adolescent misogyny, street life, or inspiration from whatever the songwriter was reading at the time. “I wrote this song about a girl I was dating. She told me one day she was now a Christian, so this line came to me: you’re a disease babe / your faith’s a disease I don’t wanna catch.’” Each song gets a little blurb or anecdote from the main songwriter Martin Cowan, laid out across a gatefold sleeve with the original sleeve art of each single and EP. The whole thing sounds great, and appears to be about as faithful of a collection as anyone could hope for.
Four tracks of bratty garage rock from Portland. Two original songs on the A-side, two covers on the B-side of good time, ’60s-inspired fun. Peppy songs with a bit of vocal whining that is emphasized by the organ sound.
Six songs of eclectic, melodic indie-punk. Mostly falling within a vaguely REPLACEMENTS territory sound-wise, with tongue-in-cheek, humorous lyrics along the lines of say, YOUR MOTHER, with a distinctly nasal vocal delivery that reminds me a little of PANSY DIVISION. Stylistically, the songs have jangly, poppy interludes interspersed with noisier, more distorted riffs. The longest and best song, “Tito” (at over five minutes), serves as something of an epic and takes the listener on a journey through diverse musical styles such as FIREHOSE and PINK FLOYD.
The TERRAPLANES originally formed out of the ashes of ANIMALS & MEN in 1980. Disbanding after one 1981 single, they reformed in 2017, and this album is the result. A sparse, post-punk mix of new originals, revisited old songs, and favorite garage / rock’n’roll covers of JONATHAN RICHMAN, ELVIS PRESLEY, ED COBB etc. The raw, simplistic recording and dual female (mother / daughter!) vocals lends the whole thing a HEADCOATEES vibe, which is never a bad thing! Great stuff, and a welcome return to the music scene.
Two songs of jangly garage pop. “Get Back” is a peppy rager. “Vampire” is a drony ballad. The singing is flat in charming way. I like it.
This DYS-worship demo packs a whole lot of punch, landing somewhere between HOAX and ARMS RACE. The riffs are simple, driving, and catchy, and the vocals sound gruff and desperate. The lyrics are super bleak, with lines like “blank as death I stare at myself” and “dead flies on the windowsill / bed-ridden corpse.”
The LUNGS are a new band to me, but I can absolutely dig what they’re laying down. Very BORN AGAINST-style, off-kilter hardcore with some weird tunings and tempo shifts and abstract lyrics, though a touch less heavy than the aforementioned band. TOTAL MASSACRE are a known commodity and they continue to be fucking great PIST / BRUTALLY FAMILIAR straightforward hardcore fucking punk with uncompromising, clever political lyrics and super catchy songwriting. Both sides are over a little quick, and I’m bummed that there’s no insert, but this is a super solid DIY split between two above-average punk bands.
There was a time around the turn of the millennium that I was simultaneously obsessed with WORLD BURNS TO DEATH’s The Sucking of the Missle Cock and TRAGEDY’s Vengeance. You could not fuck with the raw aggression of either, and they both sincerely, mercilessly charged a wave of Bush Jr.-denouncing US hardcore punk. Though I’ve never been opposed to changing up an approach in musical style, if you have lost track of TRAGEDY on their last two LPs, I highly recommend you visit Fury: a threatening, intense return to form, with the poignant lyrical content they have impressed with previously. Fury hits hard, if not harder and more calloused, with unhinged emotion than the philosophic, metaphoric content of Vengeance. Dare I say the flavor is more ’80s Japanese HC in vocals and leads, and more Scandi-core in rhythm and percussion? Fury is technically an EP that feels like a full-story LP. If WARCRY emulates the dawning battle strife, TRAGEDY is the madness, a blinding flash at dusk and the more-recent NIGHTFELL the smoldering grave…but I totally digress on PDX killer bands. Fury is dark, harrowing, fast as wildfire, and an unexpected phoenix woke as fuck.
UNKNOWN RIVER DRIVER are really reaching towards that ’90s alt / college / emo chalice—it’s moody and dark and kinda awesome, even though it fades into the background pretty quickly. Ironically, the drums in slow parts of the last song just remind me of “Everybody Wants Some” from Van Halen III (solid track, btw). An amalgamation of RATIONS dubbed R.A.T.I.O.N.S.N.O.I.S.E, on the flip, delivers manipulations of studio recordings, anti-drone war missives, and general tape loop fuckery. It’s an excellent way to get me hooked, and an excellent listen.
Longform dispatch #3 from Sunbelt’s favorite sons (suns?). As if their set-to-stun prior outings didn’t paint a bright enough picture, The Cosmo Cleaners immerses the listener in THE MINNEAPOLIS URANIUM CLUB BAND’s parallel universe: one bent on absurdist parables that serve to skewer concepts of society and self, achieved largely through mischievous plays on mega-corporation aesthetics and language, ultimately positioning creation and destruction as one in the same. Too heady? Well, the band’s conceptual dedication and admirable attention to detail is outdone only by their completely fucking ridiculous rocking / rolling—a forever-building, breathless, whip-crack punky attack that really does inspire legit awe (especially live). Every song is an epic, burners and excursions alike. Fans will find a considerably more patient and less scrappy collection of songs and performances here, but as a total work, The Cosmo Cleaners may be the most fully-realized outing from the band to date. “How does one remain breathing without going mad?“
This is a cool comp of modern garage rock bands. The bands are lo-fi, fuzzy, surfy, laidback, etc. Includes THE PRISTEENS, MR. AIRPLANE MAN, FREAK GENES, UK GOLD, DAMAGED BUG and more. The title is appropriate: Our Voltage is whatever feels right in the moment, and every band hits it perfectly. Even the covers of SIOUXSIE AND THE BANSHEES’ “Christine” (the MYRMIDONS) and BO DIDDLEY’s “Who Do You Love?” (ATOMIC SUPLEX) manage to sound fresh. Nice.
Five Kentucky bands, mostly on the early garage and/or proto-grunge end of the spectrum. VASELINES, EUGENIUS, a little bit of SCREAMING TREES maybe…that brand of laid back action. Not bad, and it definitely grew on me.
How do you describe a thing that is technically proficient and theoretically good…but kinda goes in one ear and out the other? I will try: VORTIS is from Chicago, and they sound like it (that’s a positive). Open garage chords and snotty midwest punk with an ear towards a distant past. It’s catchy and there are tons of hooks (check “Frog In The Pan” specifically, because that song jams). See? I did it.
Powerhouse hardcore bursts with a disjointed NYHC flavor, thrash metal churning, and posi-core changes, with an undercurrent of old school circle pit mosh. The solos are flashy fire over a steady punk drum attack. There are vibes of BUDGIE, YOUTH OF TODAY, EXODUS, and BASTARD, but WAR BISON play feel-good party crossover metal with a punk sensibility and experienced musical arrangements. The delivery is expected and familiar in an inviting way. Gang vocals galore bring me back to Lower East Side hardcore matinees or metal shows in any old random American warehouse. Acre is a classic post-hardcore metal album. I once saw a friend in a WAR BISON scarf, and damn the thing looked cozy and varsity, but I noticed the lettering was that of AMEBIX lettering, so I knew I’d be in for a bit of a treat that was all over the place. I love the full-color medieval jacket art too.
First of all, let’s give it up for the Finnish language for giving us a split EP between two bands whose names start with the prefix “Ydin.” A split doomed to hang out in at the very back end of any properly alphabetized collection. All linguistic concerns aside, this should be pushed up to the front of the queue in terms of quality! YDINASEETON POHJOLA are a fucking stellar example of a modern Finnish band carrying the legacy left by ’80s heavy hitters like KAAOS, offering two quick tracks of nasty, treble-y hardcore with vocals so raw that they’re almost plaintive, and hooks that’ll stick with you long after the record has left the turntable. YDINTUHO are just as raw, but mining a completely different vein: dropping three tracks of very early DISCLOSE-style blown-out D-beat, complete with crazed solos and some truly epic, conquering riffs. Fuck y’all, this is an early seed for best split EP of the year, and I can imagine that later contenders will have a hard time knocking it off. Fucking great stuff—buy now or regret it later as there are only 300 copies to be had!
Complete mindfuck intellectual noise-core. Fans of NOXAGT, BOREDOMS, or MELT BANANA will want to take note, and the uninitiated will want to strap in before diving into this Russian act. Chaotic pogo/blast drums, shrill screams, nonsensical construction, and manic horns throughout. It’s a fukkn mess to say the least, and it’s really, really great.
