SMOGTOWN: Tales of Gross Pollution: CD

You know what? Fuck Smogtown. Do they not know how fucking hard it is to simply FIND a favorite band these days, let alone flat-out adore every release said favorite band manages to release? This has been the case for notoriously picky-ass me, who has not gone more than a few days without listening to something by them since having Beach City Butchers blasted into my ears while taking a trip with Todd Taylor not long after its release. I even became a “Smog City Waver,” the first time I’ve EVER come close to belonging to anything even remotely resembling a fan club (thanks Todd, by the way). Smogtown was the ultimate statement of “real” Southern California at the turn of the millenium, a final “fuck you” to the limp joke that the ‘90s turned out to be and a rousing “where’s the fucking party, asshole?” welcome to the zero years we currently find ourselves in, a reaffirmation to those of us who’ve been around longer than Green Day has existed that the good shit was still alive and kicking and still not making radio waves. With two albums, a 10-inch and a slew of singles and comp tracks, these guys are responsible for ramming some truly crucial “we just don’t give a fuck” punk rock noise up the ass of an American punk underground that had apparently forgotten that it was supposed to be a threat to the cultural mainstream and not a breeding ground to tomorrow’s boy band heroes. And now they’ve fucked off and broken up. Yeah, they were kind enough to toss us this helping of early demos on their way out the fuckin’ door, and it is some righteous shit, but it just ain’t the same knowing that, aside from a rumored final album due from TKO, this is all there’s gonna be. They’re history now, the fucking bastards, and we are all the worse off for it. In emulation of Money’s sign-off on their obit a couple of issues back, I remain…

–jimmy (Disaster)