Flip Tops: Ever been in a car that was once a prime hot rod, but when you’re in it, the brakes are shot, there are cigarette burns in the headliner, there’s a crack the length of the windshield, the tape deck only works when a matchbook is shoved on top of a tape, and its driver is almost always drunk and/or stoned? The Flip Tops remind me of that. If total care was taken, they could be owners of a cherry ride shown off during the weekend to impress fellow dentists and chrome enthusiasts. The Flip Tops hop the curb to 7-11, do donuts in neighbors’ lawns, and have everything held together with bailing wire and duct tape. ‘Tis, I believe, the way punk rock should be played. By miscreants barely holding their shit together, rumbling through a world of “misused” potential. Yokohama Hooks: I’ve, on occasion, wondered what Yoko Ono and Nico would sound like if they were, like, good. You know, like sorta arty, but rockin’, itchy and angular, but interesting for the ass and the mind and you didn’t need some sort of degree in asshole snob culture studies to “appreciate” it. Yokohama Hooks somewhat answer that to the tune of “for fans of the A-Frames and Operation S.” Women androids kill with high kicks, just like in Blade Runner. Me like.
–todd (Iron Goat)