I recently came to the realization that the reason I hate so much of the new “street” punk stuff is that I find a lot of the lyrical content to be pathetic, vapid and just plain stupid. I mean really, how alienated can one possibly feel when they hang out only with people who look exactly like them and listen to the exact same bands? As far as
Imagine Pantera’s vocalist singing to the slow parts of a Slayer song.
–jimmy (Indecision, PO Box 5781, Huntington Beach, CA 92815)
A much more focused and flat-out rockin’ album than the first one. There’s considerably more energy in the performance and the hooks are much catchier, as the song “Homicide,” which everyone should know by now, illustrates. There are some B-sides here as well to round things off nicely. Good stuff from long gone days.
A re-release of this long-running band’s first album. The album itself ain’t too shabby, but the real gems on this release are the B-sides to their first few singles, which blow away everything before them.
Kevin Seconds and crew are presented here, recorded live at the Troubador in Los Angeles earlier in the year. The sound quality is great, the performance itself is top-notch and most of the biggie “hits” are here as well (What? No “I Hate Sports?!?”). Best of all, the songs from “The Crew” album don’t sound like they were recorded at the bottom of
Bubble-gummy punk, sorta like a Muffs light with maybe a dash of early Elvis Costello. My initial reaction was to hate it, but I was quickly won over. Hey, the songs are catchy as hell.
–jimmy (Daemon, PO Box 1207, Decatur, GA 30031)
Sergie really held his own, making up for James’s absence like a pro. Also, with Jason Beebout’s mesmerizing voice, after the first few songs, you could hear James’ spirit coming through Sergie’s playing.
Amidst the candles, the religious kitsch, the glowing CIA sign (Causey Is Awesome, Causey Is an Asshole, Causey Is Anarchy), the all white uniforms, the go-go boy, and the intermittent Causey sermons, the band never forgot to fuse their bizarre duel keyboard-fueled, new-wave inspired rock’n’roll.
The next day as I unclothed myself to take a well earned-shower, I saw the black and blue Dalmatian prints of bruises littering my body. All I could do was smile knowing that each bruise counted as each song in the long repertoire of the last great American band to survive the punk rock heydays of CBGB’s.
Q: If you could blow something up, like with a bike pump, so it was huge, what would it be and why would you do it?
A: It would probably be my ball sack. Then it would look proportionate to my cock.