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#8

Razorcake is made by: Sean Carswell, Todd Taylor, ktspin, and Skinny Dan.Congratulations: The marriage of Julia Smut and Pete Hucklebuck.Thank you list: We’d probably still have a newsprint cover if it wasn’t forJulia; Matt Average for his cover shot of DS 13, help with the cover, the corre-sponding interview, live Starvations shot, and the Henry pic.; Jen Hitchcockfor her helping Kat with the Squab interview; Dan Monick for his Starvations studio shots; say hi to Dan’s new photo pages; Frank Mullenfor the live Jello Biafra pictures; Harmonee and Kat for the Jucifer interview; Graham Russell for the Nero Burns interview and ShawnScallen for the photos; say hey to our new columnist Ayn Imperato; Cuss Baxter for his zine, record, and video reviews; Roger Moser Jr.for his book and record reviews; Bradley Williams for his zine reviews; Sara Isett for her book reviews; Donofthedead, Nam, Toby Tober,and Jimmy Alvarado for their record reviews; for all of those who participated in the Razorcake Slave Labor Insert Extravaganza - SaraIsett, Stacy, Kat, Designated Dale, Katie and Gary Hornberger, Jessica, Bradley, and Donofthedead.

IIthought I’d planned it all out perfectly. Long discussions. Carefuldeliberations. Some shuffling. I was going into the wild of

America’s Northeast for ten days, away from the warm hearth ofRazorcake HQ’s record and CD collection. Packing was tight. Onlyone bag. Flask. Thermie undies. Two books. One wallet worth ofCDs. That was going to be my musical umbilical chord into thegreat void otherwise known as “The Part of America WithoutReadily Available Punkrock.” Truth be told, it’s most of America,but I was up to the task.

MMy compatriot and I discussed the pros of Dillinger Four,Smogtown, Johnny Cash, AC/DC, Tiltwheel, The Beltones,

Turbonegro, Leatherface, DS 13, Pogues, The Arrivals, Out Cold,and Misfits. We were pleased, perhaps a little smug. We thought wewere so fuckin’ smart. Even got a Y-adapter for a portable CD play-er so we could listen in tandem and rock out at our leisure.

WWaiting for the plane, we tried the contraption out. With theEpoxies’ new wave slither and pounce we shimmied in our

seats, bobbed our heads, and people watched. It drowned out trav-ellers on their ubiquitous cell phones, telling people that they werestanding in an airport at 5 AM waiting for their flight, discussingthe color of the carpet. Important stuff like that. I learned a trickabout ten years ago. I’d mute the TV and crank Dead Kennedys. Ifyou arm yourself with a good soundtrack, almost anything’s fun.Having the world be a video, it’s strange how people synchronize abutt scratch or a nose pick to music that only you can hear. I suspect

it’s sort of like how crazy people hear things, but only, like, healthy.

FFunny thing with families that you like. Everyone got along andthere was a lot of talking. Not a lot of time to listen to music.

Then it happened. We piled into the car for the first of many trips. Ipulled out the CD case, and in mid un-zip, my hand slapped myforehead... a cassette player. I stared and stared at that wide slot,hoping that my glare would make it thinner or that greater, compas-sionate forces would swoop down and magically turn it into some-thing that played CDs. No such luck. We were at the mercy of com-mercial radio, one cool comp tape, and George Michael’s Faith.

TThis isn’t the point where I tell you that I’m now a fan of bothparts to “I Want Your Sex.” It’s also not the point where I say

I’m an open-hearted listener to Boston and Three Dog Night. It’sthe point where I tell you about our cover. Punk rock and hardcore,in the grand scheme of things – when positioned next to the FM dialand malls filled with pedophile-loved pop stars – is so, so small.Why splice it down more and more, until all we’re left with isephemeral subgenres as small as atoms?

FFlorida’s Beltones and Sweden’s DS-13 play the two types ofmusic I love: punk and rock. Their hearts couldn’t be more true,

nor their songs more fit for struggle, celebration, and release. Onfirst listen, they may sound worlds apart from one another, but ifyou get unplugged and are thrust into a world where the options arecommercials, disco, and eighty-five flavors of wank, you gottacherish every good band that comes your way. Rock it.

• Sean <sean@razorcake.com> • Todd <retodded@razorcake.com> • • Rich Mackin <richmackin@richmackin.org> • Nardwuar <nardwuar@nardwuar.com> •

• Designated Dale <lemmyramone@hotmail.com> • • Rhythm Chicken <rhythmchicken@hotmail.com> •

Everyone else can be reached c/o Razorcake.

-Todd

Henry, book, and Hawaiian shirt.

Table of Contents

Rich Mackin ....................... The Twisted Balloon ......................... pg. 6Art ........................... Beez-Nuts featuring Bad Ol’ Lil’ Beez ................ pg. 5

Sean Carswell .................. A Monkey to Ride the Dog ....................... pg. 20

ReTodd ....................... Complete, Utter ReToddNation ............................ pg. 8

* * * * *

* * * * *

* * * * *

The Rhythm Chicken ........... The Dinghole Reports ................... pg. 16

Maddy ..................................... Shiftless When Idle ............................... pg. 10Money ......................................... Pog Mo Thon .......................................... pg. 12

Designated Dale ......................... I’m Against It ..........................pg. 24

Squab ............. Interview by Kat Jetson and Jen Hitchcock .................. pg. 42

Ayn Imperato ................................ 94103 ................................... pg. 4

Jucifer ................... Interview by Harmonee and Kat Jetson ..................... pg. 36

DS-13 ............................... Interview by Matt Average ........... pg. 54 Nero Burns ....................... Interview by Graham Russell ................... pg. 60 Jello Biafra ........ Interview by Nardwuar The Human Serviette ........... pg. 64

Dan Monick ...................... People Watching Photo Page ................... pg. 69

The Starvations .................. Interview by ReTodd ........................... pg. 48

The Adicts ............................ Interview by Money ..................... pg. 32The Beltones .................... Interview by Sean Carswell ..................... pg. 28

Record Reviews ... A Lovely Lost Soul Grooving through Go-go Purgatory .... pg. 70

Book Reviews .............................. Slipping in Silico ..................... pg. 102Zine Reviews ................... A Guinness after Drinking Schlitz ....................... pg. 98

www.razorcake.com and PO Box 4422112299, Los Angeles, CA 9900004422

Razorcake is bi-monthly. Issues are $3.00 ppd. in the U.S. Yearly subscriptions (six issues) are $15.00. Plus you get some free shit. Theseprices are only valid for people who live in the US and are not in prison. Issuesand subs are more for everyone else (because we have to pay more in postage).Write us and we’ll give you a price.

Cutting. Tasty.

Issue #8, June/July 2002

Ay

n I

mper

ato

I feel good. I haven't inflicted gratuitous violence on a drunk man. I am in control of my destiny!

94103Ay

n Imper

ato

One Dollar EachWaiting for the 14 Mission bus off 22nd

Street, this small wrinkled dude in a 49ers base-ball cap staggers up to me and shoves two rosesin plastic sleeves in my face hollering, “Onedollar each!” Except he is so sauced it comesout: “Onedollaeash!”

“No thanks,” I say, but he keeps asking. “Hey, you want a rose?” He thrusts them at

my face like plastic swords, stabbing. “Rose?”“No,” I say firmly, but he leans in way too

close. He may be five feet tall, but his breath is80 proof.

“Onedollaeash?”His week-long-bender booze breath hov-

ers the air – an invisible cloud that passes overme like a bad intoxicated dream. “Rose! Rose!”he yells. His voice is raw and strangled, asthough escaping from a dark, jagged crevice.

“Leave me alone, please!” I say because,goddamn it, I don’t want a plastic rose. His faceassumes a completely blank look for a moment.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “Reallysorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say and turn to scan thestreet for the bus.

He taps me on the arm. “I’m reallysorry!”

“Fine!” I say, literally throwing up myhands.

He stumbles off only to return less thantwo minutes later. “Onedolleash!”

I’ve been in the city too long. I’m dam-aged enough and this nonsense isn’t helping. Iturn to him and stand with my legs apart in amean stance, give him the evil city eye. “No!Go away!”

He doesn’t budge. He stands there staringat me, swaying. I can feel my fingers curlinginto tiny fists so I just walk away. Just walkaway, down to the glass bus shelter where thereare other people gathered. I feel good. I haven’tinflicted gratuitous violence on a drunk man. Iam in control of my destiny!

He lumbers off, Quasimodo style, to acluster of girls waiting to cross the street at theother corner. Well, at least that’s over.

Maybe I should have bought the damnrose. I have a dollar in my hand for the bus – thelast dollar I have because it’s Thursday. Onemore day to go. It’s been a hard week, so athome all I have is a roll of quarters and two rollsof dimes lying on a coffee table fashioned fromwooden fruit crates, from what I’d gleanedunder the seat cushions of the leopard couch.And a wad of ATM withdrawal receipts from

the previous week. Many from

bars.The bus finally pulls up and the people

shuffle in one at a time. I sit down in a sidewaysseat across from the bus window. Thirty sec-onds later, as though I am in some freakishlylong Star Trek episode, the rose man material-izes and sits down directly across from me. OhJesus Christ.

He leans over towards me as though hehas never seen me before and slurs,“Onedollaeash?” I shake my head and look vio-lently to the right. I put on my dark sunglassesto shield out all the madness and the rose menof the world.

After the bus lurches forward, he standsand stumbles back through the aisle asking inearnest, “Onedollaeash?” the only word heseems to know and repeats like a scratched 45.In his vacated seat sits a near empty 40-ouncebottle of malt liquor nestled in a crumpled paperbag, swishing around, next to a pink plastic sackof potatoes.

When he finally stumbles back to his seatholding the same two plastic sheathed roses, hesits down and grows strangely quiet. Frombehind the black little shields of my sunglasses,I look at him. He wears a matted blue quiltedjacket, dime store sneakers and jeans too longso they sag over the tops of the sneakers. He isnot an ugly man, but rather an almost handsomeone. Small, but with a rugged, tanned face,leathery with age. Early forties maybe. He hasaged reasonably well, considering the little maltliquor problem. It makes me sad for him. A deeplonging sad. The fact that he isn’t completelyhideous makes it worse somehow. In different

clothes he could be driving the bus. Selling thebus. Directing the bus. He could easily do somuch more – he probably didn’t and wouldnever even know how much more.

And was more really better? In the win-dow behind him I can see myself, sitting acrossfrom him. I’m on my way home from my ownjob, peddling a different product, not drunk buthalf-wishing I was.

He looks at me and speaks up again, slur-ring, “You look nice! Hey! You look nice!” Heleans forward and takes a slug of malt liquor.“Tell me your name!” he erupts. His eyes arehuge and violent. Beer drools from his mouth.“Hey! Hey, tell me your name!”

Hell, can’t a girl just sit on a bus? Doesshe have to buy a plastic rose? I look away fromhim, silent, thinking my thoughts. I was nogood at making things better. It would onlymake it worse to speak.

Instead, my silence whips him up into afrenzy. He starts cursing and spitting in my gen-eral direction. I can’t win. When I get off thebus he throws his empty 40-ounce bottle out thewindow where it crashes on the street gutter infront of me. I look at the jaggedy glass sliverson the pavement, lying there shining like fallenstars. What a waste.

I walk the six blocks home with his oneword spinning over and around me. After me.“Onedollaeash.” A word that basically sums upeverything that sucks about life. Souls for sale.One dollar each. I walk home thinking that inone way or another we all sell roses in thestreet.–Ayn Imperato4

Beyond Rock and Roll

Anyone who knows me or my rants wellknows that I hate the whole “here we are now,entertain us” mentality of most Americans, andtheir complaints that there is “nothing to do.” Thisis usually heard by suburban kids who mean it tobe, “We want more bands we like to come totown.” And I hear it as, “We are so spoiled that wecan’t think of anything we want to do to improveanything, so we will whine about it.”

Anyway, in young and punk circles, “some-thing to do” does usually imply seeing a band, orgoing to a club... something involving rock music.(Arguably, or watching sports.) This is silly andsimplistic. Let me school you guys on some funstuff I know about that goes beyond the whole“show” mentality. This is mostly stuff in my back-yard, but hopefully it’ll give you insight into whatcould be in your town already or with some workon your part.

(Keep in mind that I do live in a city witheighty-some colleges and a lot of history, so I dohave some advantages. And since I drink, someinvolve alcohol, which makes certain situations agerelated and socially lubricated in a certain way. Usethese as springboards, not rules. Also keep in mindthat some people go to a big school, live near coolclubs in a big city and still watch bad TV and sit insilence on a Saturday night.)

One of the weirdest things to go see in theBoston area is called Kaiju Big Battel. (Yes, likeBattle, but spelled wrong.) The basic concept is artstudents interpreting a Godzilla movie in awrestling context, so people in elaborate monstersuits wrestle in a ring filled with model buildings.The suits range from twelve foot lizard like thingsto sandwich costumes, and when I say wrestle, Idon’t mean wussy punch pretend fighting, I meanfull-on pick up and throw “rasslin.” Meanwhile,multi-lingual announcers, weird backgroundmusic, and a between-match set of antics thatmakes WWF seem tame and that logically com-plete the show. Not that I expect every city to havesomething like this, but it certainly gives you anidea of an atypical activity. Some shows even haveentire crowd interaction. One show was at a collegewhere many students had no idea of what they wereinto, and it was hilarious to us veterans of the Battelto see randomly handed out Dr. Cube and anti-Dr.Cube signs being held proudly by people who hadno idea who Dr. Cube was, nor why they wouldcare.

Slightly easier to recreate in any town are theGuerilla Poets. Formed by Emerson students someyears ago and living on, even though the core mem-bers are all graduates with real jobs, the idea ofGuerilla Poetry is the reading of poetry. Out loud.

Anywhere. On a nice day, a public6

The Twisted Balloon

Nowhere else have I seen skinheads party with seventy-something publishedpoets, and get along great while doing so.

square or park, on a rainy or colder day, theBoston Guerilla Poets might start spouting ina Burger King, until they get kicked out, orone may jump on a table in a food court in amall. Until they get kicked out. Being kickedout of somewhere often means leaving“Poetry Free Zone” stickers. The local groupmeets Sundays at 2 P.M. and emails placesweekly on a list, but feel free to randomly startspeaking art when it strikes you.

Critical Mass is something that I wouldguess most readers know about. Simply put,every last Friday of any month, people meetsomewhere and ride bikes together. The onlyreal “official” decision is when the meetingplace is made, and once that happens, it tendsto be the meeting place forever. Some citieshave aggressive rides when riders block traf-fic, others are just fun group rides. (I havenoticed that the level that drivers get annoyeddepends on drivers as much or more than whatthe bike riders do.) But you don’t have to limityour ride to once a month. During a blackout(actually, it was a deliberate “rolling black-out,” but anyway...) my friend Turtle orga-nized a night-time blackout bike ride, meaningwe all used battery power (or not) to get out ofthe house and not rely on the electric grid fora while. And let me say, that you get somestrange, amused looks when a bunch of pirateszip by cars on bikes. A Boston area mannamed Lucas has a couch mounted on a plat-form with bikes on either side, pulled by thebike he rides. You can imagine the interestlevel that adds.

You can of course have any sorts of

themed bike rides, and you can even throw atheme into the old keg party. Yeah, yeah, togaand all that, but remember how fun it waswhen you were eight and you had a theme tothe party? For people my age, Star Wars mightjar a memory or two. My friend Chris cele-brated his birthday with a pirates vs. Vikingsparty. Despite what you might guess as adecidedly pirate leaning backdrop, about 70%of attendees were in Viking garb. The cos-tumes alarmed the workers at nearby liquorstores, who knew Halloween was months ago.My one word of caution: if the local sportsteam is playing a team with a pirate mascotthat day, don’t walk in public as a pirate. Notbeing a sports fan, it was after three generalprofanity throwings and a “Raiders Suck”when I realized what team the Patriots wereplaying that day. Odd sports-fan-related issuesaside, having two hundred people in characterdiscussing how, if you think about it, Vikingsare a kind of pirate after all, sure beats the typ-ical between beer sips banter. In any case,while “normal” parties came and went, thepirate vs. Viking party was something peoplewere looking forward to for weeks, plannedcostumes for, and surely will have photos thatare recalled more specifically than, “Here I amat some party. I think in 2001, I guess.”

Perhaps the bestest theme parties intown were the monthly Blind Man’s Balls thatKevin P. O’ Brien would throw. Okay, let meset the stage with Kevin O’ Brien. This guyused to work on big Alaskan fishing boats sixmonths a year, which meant he made enoughto live all year, but had no rent or food expens-

es for half of it. He was the guy who would dis-appear, show up months later with a huge beard,and lots of money to buy beer for everyone. Thiswas the kind of guy who you wouldn’t see for ayear and when you did, he had a new scar. Whenasked, he wouldn’t tell you the story. He wouldhand you the zine he just came out with with thestory in it. Blind Man’s Ball events could easilybe described as a poetry kegger. There was a bigroom with a stage and had an open mic sign up.While a keg party was going on. So it had thedrunken stupidity of a kegger diminished bypoetry, and the false air of pretentiousness cutdown by a keg. Nowhere else have I seen skin-heads party with seventy-something publishedpoets, and get along great while doing so. Ofcourse, this was merely one good example of the“art” party – many other people I know have allsorts of readings, or group mural projects. Hell,two guys I know would clear all the furnitureout of their apartment (hiding it with a friendlyneighbor) and have art gallery nights at theirhouse. They also had indoor bowling.

Near my house is an art collective calledPan 9. Instead of having parties, they haveinsane mixed media events combining perfor-mance art, comedy, atypical music (like theband Livesexact, that mount drum heads instuffed animals), theatre, and visual art. For sev-eral years, a group at MIT had monthly “showand tell” nights where people would perform orshow off weird stuff they had, or do strange sci-entific experiments.

If you want to make your party more thanmerely themed in an entertaining way, there isalways the Amnesty International write-a-thon,or get a bunch of your friends to work togethervolunteering on the same cause. Stuffing

envelopes sucks as a task, but if you and yourfriends can talk over coffee or beer at a place ofbusiness, why not over altruistic paperwork? Ifyou do a zine, there is always the zine party (or,as my circle calls it, the zine sweatshop) whenyou just get everyone together and do the gruntwork together. It’s like a latter day quilting bee.

Hell, it even seems like a lot of people aregetting into quilting bees. And sewing circles.Hell, why NOT be productive and fun. Not onlydoes this mean being social while getting some-thing done, it has been leaning towards punkand indie craft fairs and the like.

Of course, you can always simply add anentertaining spin on something already goingon. Instead of watching a parade or marathon,see what you can do to add to it. This I will leaveopen to the imagination. One semi-related idea is at the last BeantownZinetown (zine fair), Zhenelle ofBorn Ready and her friends wouldapplaud every now and then. It was“because they are positive” and it wasfunny to watch other people join inthe clapping with confused looks.

You can find entertainment andinterest in day to day life, not justFriday and Saturday nights.(Although a lot of punks know thisfrom Tuesday shows since the clubsreserve weekends for bands withmore draw.) You don’t need some-thing “to do” when you are someonewho just does things. Pranks, situa-tionism, good deeds… have you seenAmelie or Fight Club? Make the mostof each day. Heck, if you are a scarylooking, unwashed type with spikes

aplenty, simply watch what happens when youhold doors open for people. If you have moreambition, try doing what some of the Pan 9 peo-ple did. They made up some fake quizzes thatmade no sense and took to the streets and gotthem filled out. The answers provided humor foryears to come.

And, as many of you already know,protests are your best entertainment value…

Here you are now, entertain yourself.Or, as the song goes, if you’re bored, your

boring.–Rich Mackin

(Rich and Sean Carswell are on tour now.See the ad on page 104 to find out whenthey’re going to be in a town near you.)

Hey there, co-editor, co-pub-lisher, co-founder Retodd here. Ihad a tiny bit of a freak out. I’vebeen working on a book – anunwieldy 1,200 page monster – forthe past eight years and it neverseems to get done. Even though, atfirst it was because I was workingtwo jobs, then helping Flipside stayafloat, and now making Razorcakea viable, trustworthy magazine, I’ddo chapters here, dialogue there,but I could never get my handscompletely around it to choke it andput it to its final sleep. I’m not aguy who likes to keep things unfin-ished. So, yeah, I was drunk andbabbling about how I should com-plete it once and for all and cut outthe writer/artisitic drama I wasmaking for myself. But I realizedthat something had to give. I keepmy thumb-up-my-ass time down toa minimum and I’m a busy guy, soI had to make a couple of hardchoices.

Here they are. Aside from the

interviews I’ve already agreed toand will do with six bands, I’m per-sonally going on interview sabbati-cal until the book’s finished. I alsorealized I tend to write a term paperof a column each issue, so I decid-ed that I’ll be light on writingcolumns until the book’s beentucked away, shelved, and I’mhappy with it. If my presence in themagazine is light, that’s why. I’llstill be working full-time puttingRazorcake together, just writingless for it.

So, why the fuck do I have acolumn this issue if I made mymind up on playacting as a novel-ist? Money (the contributor, not the

fiscal entity) asked me to do a read-ing for his Punk Rock Revival (asin, “Can I have a ‘hallelujah’?”, notresuscitation). It’s short, it’s light.There was polite clapping.

# # #I like punk rock. I think about it,

perhaps, a little too much. I’venever had any success in coming upwith a definitive term of what is orisn’t punk rock, and I think that’sthe point. It’s like an unsolvedassassination, culturally speaking.It’s better to have this impossiblepuzzle because the interpretationsof the facts, the fictions it eddies in,and most importantly, the sounds it

creates haven’t stopped for over aquarter of a century and show nosigns of slowing down. It’s a world-wide infection.

Punk rock is a putty-like term. Itcan be stretched, molded, con-formed, and contorted, but, likemost long-living, constantly vitalterms, it can’t be trapped. If it doesbecome domesticated on largestages and in arenas, those isolated,denatured strains – like SpragueDawley rats – are quickly killed off.What’s a Sprague Dawley rat?Basically, these rats are inbred forresearch, born and raised just to becarved up or rubbed up or whathave you. Someone did this experi-ment where they went to this islandand let the lab rats go to see if theystill had survival instincts. The rat’sa survivor. They’ve been around forso long. And the scientists wantedto see, “Did this get bred out ofthem or are they still rats?” The sci-entists dropped them off and thencame back and found their little

Complete, Utter ReToddnation

“You mean records you play on a record player?”“Yeah. Yup.”

“You mean people still make records?”“Some do.”

“And you play them?”“All the time.”

skeletons. They got totally devoured by thenative rats. They couldn’t cut it.

So I did a lot of chin scratching. Almostseven years of it, and I came up with one, Ibelieve, irrefutable element that can’t be sepa-rated from the formation and continuation ofpunk rock as I know and love it.

It is vinyl. No, no not little rubber pantsthat’ll make you sweaty. Records.

Here goes:We have one of the best post office boxes

in Los Angeles. Gil, Joe, and Sylvia are threevery un-disgruntled postal workers who totallylook out for us. When we started getting a reg-ular stream of mail, they’d ask, “What’s in thebig, flat boxes?” that wouldn’t fit in our PObox.

“Albums,” I’d say.“Why do they ship CDs in such big

boxes?”“LPs.”“You mean records you play on a record

player?”“Yeah. Yup.”“You mean people still make records?”“Some do.”“And you play them?”“All the time.”“I haven’t put a record on in years and

years.”

And so it goes. It makes me smile becausethere’s a chance I can pick up another recordplayer, for dirt cheap, at an upcoming garagesale. Vinyl’s a pretty cool physical manifesta-tion of punk rock. It’s got a comforting pres-ence about it. Nice people, regular people whodon’t listen to a lot of music that’s not on theradio or on TV don’t know it still exists. Likepunk, vinyl was supposed to be obliterated bysomething newer and fancy dancier. Vinyl andpunk are both intentionally a bit antiquated, yetthat acknowledgement to the past, that justbecause it was already supposed to be perfect-ed and over, doesn’t mean it’s obsolete, does-n’t mean there’s no bright future for it.

Many people are looking for the newestand best, be it putting three thousand songsinto a palm-held player, or the most realisticfeeling pocket pussy the world has everknown. With vinyl records, while the marketmay be smaller than it once was, I don’t thinkit’ll ever be completely usurped, much like apiece of rubber molded into the shape of awoman’s vagina is in no position to overthrowgood, old fashioned fucking.

“But what about CDs, smartass? Afraid tocome out of the seventies?” you may charge.

Why does everything have to be a rival-ry? I’m no hippie, but I think vinyl and CDscan get along. Sure, CDs have their advan-tages.

Records are a pain in the ass to play in thecar. One pothole, one curb launch, and yourneedle’s wrecked, your vinyl’s scratched. Oneunexpectedly hot day, and you’ve got a bunchunplayable vinyl tacos. Hell, I love the abilityto find the one song on an album with thetouch of a button, and the fact that I can burncopy after copy for my friends at twenty centsapiece appeals to me.

But are easy and fast all we’re lookingfor? I say nay. Loud, and fast, to be sure. Buteasy? Again: is sex better when it’s purely justeasy? Is fast food better because it’s easy?

That takes me to another reason whyvinyl’s perfect for the punk rocker. Ritualdoesn’t go out of style. Just ask a nearbychurch. While you may no longer feel as coolwith a bunch of bandanas wrapped aroundengineering boots, and perhaps you no longeruse a safety pin though a bleeding nipple as anicebreaker to meet new people, but the simple,satisfying ritual of sliding a record out of itsjacket, of plopping it on the post hole, of theneedle touching the groove, that’s somethingthat can’t go out of style. It’s like making freshcoffee. You can see how the sound is made. Ifyou put your ear to it, you can hear the needlebouncing around in the groove. I like that. It’snot all 007-ish lasers with shiny discs spinningat incredible speeds in darkness. It’s just like abunch of scruffy punkers plugging in and beat-ing the hell out of their instruments. You payattention to the sound, not a light and smokeshow. You can see the music being made, andthat’s the satisfying ritual.

Consider this. Nowadays, if you press aseven inch, the best that can happen, financial-ly, is that you break even, maybe make enoughmoney to buy a pack of gum. People alwaysbitch and moan that punk rock’s on the cusp ofselling out, of watering down. A lot of italways has been. Even in 1977, Christ Child, acompletely manufactured punk band from LA,released material, but be smart, see under theclouds and fall to the underground. Especiallyin 2002, vinyl is one of punk’s truest arms.There is so little money to be made. In nosmall way, that’s its purest strength. It, literal-ly, can’t be sold for a heavy profit – it can’t sellout. That’s beautiful. Name the last time an LPor a 7” was on any type of slick-ass magazine’stop 300 or nominated for a Grammy.

The only time that vinyl is mentioned inthe national media is the past tense, mostlylikely twenty, twenty-five years ago (asidefrom hip hop’s vinyl, which I’m in no positionto even pretend that I know what’s going onwith that.). Good. It keeps the record binsteeming with great music at reasonable priceswhen the newest “Gotta Hear ‘Em” CD is sell-ing for $20 a pop.

Oh, but there’s drama. It’s a paradox thatcertain 7”s by obscure bands that could onlyscrounge up enough money to make 300records and xeroxed copied covers, who neverhad the chance to make a living off their music,are having their records sell for over $1,000,and it’s even more ironic that the only viableway to preserve the music is to burn it onto CDand hand it out to friends. But don’t despair.This will always happen.

Some of the best records ever made stillcost a buck and were released last year. Someof best punk bands still cost five dollars or lessto see.

You just have to hunt. Use your ownradar.

Just like you don’t go to a record store ina mall to find a vinyl record, don’t think thatwhat’s in an arena represents the current stateof punk rock.

You just have to hunt.Become your own historian. Become a

vinyl librarian.You just have to hunt.It ain’t gonna come to you.Start today.

-Retodd

Maddy

Mr. Piggy was lying on his side, stuck to the plastic cage, with his four legs stuckstraight out in one of the funniest examples of rigor mortis the world has ever seen.

Shiftless When IdleMad

dy

IIdo NOT like animals. Keeping an ani-mal in one’s house (“having a pet”) isone of the worst ideas humans have

ever had (up there with disco and sugar-freecandy). The history of humans and animals is along and sordid one, involving countless acts ofco-habitation.

In the Middle Ages, pets even lived in cas-tles with kings and queens. Servants would putabout two to three feet of hay on the floors ofthe main rooms and replace it periodically whenit became filled with feces and urine. Yum.Now, unless you’re a crusty punk or an animalfeces fetishist (which applies to approximately.3% of all Razorcake readers) this probablydoes not appeal to you, correct?

Well, take the current practice of owningpets. Basically the same idea, in a slightlyrevised form. Instead ofhay on the ground, wehave litter boxes. Insteadof servants taking care ofthe dirty matters, we do itourselves. Okay. But themain difference, whichno one seems to realize,is that WE NO LONGERNEED TO KEEP ANI-MALS INSIDE OF OURHOMES! In the MiddleAges and earlier, lots ofpeople had animals toeat, do work, or sell, andthese animals had to liveinside when the weather got cold. Do we havethis need today? No! I have yet to meet a singlepunk rocker who subsists entirely on cattle salesand pig flesh! So, should we have pets today? Adecided and whole-hearted GOOD GOD NO!

Hopefully all of the above will somehowjustify the tales which follow, in which my cru-elty towards animals is revealed to the punkcommunity, followed by countless angry lettersfrom animal rights activists. Sorry Razorcake!Let the PETA boycott begin!

When I was about seven or eight, my dadbought a lot of tropical fish. He let me chooseone fish to be “mine.” I chose a small red fishwith tiny eyes. I called him Swimmy. Swimmydid quite well, due entirely to my dad’s dili-gence in feeding him (and all of the fish) andcleaning the aquarium regularly. And then, mys-teriously, the fish started dying, one after theother. My dad couldn’t figure out why. After afew weeks, only two or three fish were left.Swimmy was one of them. And then, one dayeven Swimmy succumbed and floated to the topof the water. I was quite distraught. I could go

into the whole “this was my first

real experience of death” etc, etc, but really,although I was quite distraught, I recoveredsoon when my dad suggested that we go toMcDonald’s. There are few things that a twistcone can’t fix.

After Swimmy died, I wanted to get a newpet. My dad was extremely opposed to pets ingeneral, with the sole exception of fish, so I gota goldfish. I can’t remember his name, but I wasgenuinely excited when I first got him. I had asmall aquarium and even bought one of thoselittle fake castles that, for some reason, peoplelike to put in aquariums. (A connection to thecastle-residing pets of yore? Perhaps!) But,after a few weeks, I got bored with my goldfishand began to realize that having a fish wasannoying. It brought me no joy, and I had tofeed it and clean the tank. I couldn’t talk about

Punky Brewster with my fish, and I couldn’ttake it to candy stores. So I did what any rea-sonable person would do. I stopped cleaning thetank. Mold started to grow on the edges. After afew months, mold would sometimes even formon the top of the water. I also began to be ratherinconsistent with feeding my fish as well. Itwould sometimes go for as long as a week with-out nourishment.

So imagine a goldfish, living in a filthytank, hardly ever getting fed. You’d suspect itwould die soon, right? Unfortunately, I was notthat lucky. (And don’t think that I didn’t hopefor him to die all of the time, because I mostcertainly did.) The stupid goldfish WOULDNOT DIE. Months passed and he lived on,swimming in and out of the mold-covered fakecastle. I decided to do some research at thelibrary, where I learned that the average life-span of a store-bought goldfish is less than ayear. So I figured that, at the very most, my stu-pid fish had a few months left. Wrong. It wasnot until a full THREE YEARS later that myfish died, defying all laws of goldfishery.

In the meantime, I had experimented with

a few other animals, for, rather than acknowl-edge that maybe, just maybe, I did not like pets,I figured that it was just a question of certainKINDS of pets. Maybe I just did not like fish.So I decided to get a hamster. This took a fairamount of pleading to my dad, but eventuallyhe gave in. I named the hamster Cuddly andbought him a very cool cage, complete with awheel and even a tube that he could climb upinto. For the first few days, even the first fewweeks, having a hamster was fun. But then, yep,you guessed it, I got bored. And then I started toclean the cage less and less. And then the noiseof Cuddly on the wheel annoyed me and so Istuck the cage in my closet. And then, of course,I ended up cleaning the cage less and less.

And then I realized that, unlike with fish,you could actually do cool (read: mean) things

with/to a hamster. So Istarted taking Cuddlyout of his cage andmaking him dangleonto the side of achair until finally hecouldn’t hang on anylonger and he fell.And then I would do itagain. And again.Fun!

Unfortunately,Cuddly did not havethe strong will to liveof my goldfish. Afterabout two years, he

died. We buried him in the backyard, in a holeabout six inches deep. A few months later, wegot a dog for a few days (who we had to returnbecause he enjoyed peeing everywhere andattacking us), and he promptly dug up Cuddly.His rotting corpse would’ve made even GGAllin squirm. Maybe.

So, at this point you’d think that I’d giveup on pets, right? After a fish, a hamster, and adog, you’d think I’d have learned my lesson.But no. I decided to get a guinea pig. And I gavemy cruelty free rein like I had never donebefore. (FORESHADOWING! FORESHAD-OWING!) Of course, at first I was genuinelyinterested in Mr. Piggy. I even had a fairly large,very clean glass aquarium with fresh cedarshavings. I put the aquarium about three feet offthe ground, on a metal stand that used to holdmy dad’s aquarium. About a week or two intothe beautiful relationship between myself andMonsieur Piggy, disaster struck and our rela-tionship turned sour. One of my siblings, I haveforgotten which, knocked the aquarium off thestand and glass (and Mr. Piggy) went flyingeverywhere! Mr. Piggy ended up in a corner,10

surrounded by shards of glass,shaking violently. From that pointon, Mr. Piggy was not a normalguinea pig. If you tried to touchhim, he would jump into the air andthen start shaking. He spent most ofhis time in the corner of his newblue Tupperware cage, staring intospace. To say that he was disturbedwould be putting it mildly.

After awhile, I naturally gotbored with having a neuroticguinea pig. And then my sisterdecided that she wanted him. Wewould constantly switch the owner-ship of Mr. Piggy back and forthbetween the two of us. Afterawhile, one of us would forgetenough about how dull and annoy-ing it was to have a guinea pig andbegin to think that it might be excit-ing again. So that person wouldthen request ownership of Mr.Piggy, which the other personwould gladly relinquish. Eventuallyit got to the point where neither ofus wanted anything to do with Mr.Piggy. So we took the huge blueTupperware cage and moved it tothe garage. Keep in mind that a.) itwas the middle of the summer, withtemperatures in the 90s, and b.) thegarage most certainly was NOT air-conditioned. Of course, after wemoved Mr. Piggy and his house outto the garage, it became much easi-er to forget entirely about feedinghim or changing his water, to saynothing of cleaning his cage. If wechecked on him more than twice aweek, it was amazing, shocking,and, by our standards, incrediblyoverly kind.

This went on for much of thesummer, until one day we checkedon him for the first time that week.Mr. Piggy was lying on his side,stuck to the plastic cage, with hisfour legs stuck straight out in one ofthe funniest examples of rigor mor-tis the world has ever seen. When Itold my mom and she came out tosee, she had to try hard (and a bitunsuccessfully) to keep fromlaughing. When my dad camehome, he was put in charge of thedisposal of the corpse. But when hetried to pick up Mr. Piggy so that hecould either bury him or put him ina garbage bag and throw him away,he ran into a problem. Mr. Piggywas stuck firmly to the side of thecage. So my dad tried pulling onhim harder and harder. Then hepicked up the entire cage and start-ed banging it against a garbage can.Mr. Piggy STILL would not comeunstuck. Eventually my dad justhad to throw away the entire cage,with Mr. Piggy still stuck on theside, into the garbage can. I oftenwonder about the reaction of thegarbage men when they had to dis-pose of it.

After Mr. Piggy, I still had notlearned my lesson. And I got a cat.

Only this time I wasn’t incrediblycruel. The cat was even fed regular-ly, mostly because my mom likedthe cat and did most of the cat-maintenance work. If it hadn’t beenfor my mom’s involvement, I haveno doubt that my cat would havesuffered the same fate as the rest ofmy pets (cruel, long, and painfuldeath).

Finally, after the death of mycat a few years later, I came to mysenses and realized that I HATEPETS! No more pets for me, thankyou! I do not need some creatureroaming around the house, who Ihave to buy food for and take careof. At least when one of your brokefriends shows up on your couch fora few weeks, you can talk aboutRadon and get drunk together! Fieon pets! Death to the pet industry!And here, oddly enough, is where Ireach a point of agreement with theAnimal Liberation Front (albeit fordifferent reasons). Humans shouldNOT own pets! See, it did end upbeing an animal rights conclusionafter all!

Random Notes:1. NYU has decided to give me aton of money to go to grad school,for some unknown reason. So, I’mmoving to NYC August 1st.Anyone with any apartment tips,punk rock NYC info, etc. email meat: cerealcore@hotmail.com.2. Best zine I’ve read in the past

month: 949 Market. Its all aboutthis squat/art space/showspace/hangout space in SanFrancisco that got closed down afew months ago. It features writingby Iggy Scam, which is reasonalone to pick it up. When I visitedthe Bay Area last year, I missedseeing the grand opening of thissquat (complete with a Shotwellshow!) by one day. Curses! Send afew bucks or whatever to: Zara,3288 21st St. PMB #79, SanFrancisco, CA 94110.3. In case you were wondering, theDillinger Four is still the best bandin the world! This means nothingbut great things for Ms. Tight Pants,because the D4 will remain the bestband in the world until, someday, aband manages to be even betterthan the D4, and gains the title. Andeven the thought of a band beingbetter than D4 is unfathomable. AmI making sense? I don’t care! TheD4 are better than Lucky Charms,the Dickies, and Chekhov all puttogether! And that’s saying A LOT!Check out a super fucking longinterview with Erik and Paddy inSick to Move #3. Send a buck ortwo to: Sick to Move, PO Box121462, San Diego, CA 92112-1462.– Maddy

Maddy

11

The Discovery of America(Part IV)

PillsvilleAfter some days, the leader of The

Defeated prescribed a three-day drunk. Theydrove to a Rite Aid store, bought all eight casesof Pabst Blue Ribbon on the premises and drankthemselves insensate.

Then when the three days were over ahelicopter was seen flying near the van, carryinga bunch of photographers, or, perhaps, snipers.A small plastic canister fell from the helicopterand landed in Spike’s cup. It was filled withpills. Spike called this to the attention of his van-mates and said:

“Look at the gift Jimmy, our tour promot-er, has sent us. Let’s take them all now.”

The pills were huge, as big as acorns. Theleader of The Defeated divided them, one eachamong the band and he who traveled with them.Each man took his pill and ingested it in his ownfashion. Some guzzled it with beer, whiskey or,in Skeebo’s case, both, a mixture he affection-ately called “Tijuana Donkey Piss.”

The punk rockers reported a wide varietyof effects.

“It’s more mellow than meth.”“Perkier than Percocet.”“Ludier than Xanax.”“Nothing like Noludar.”“Less tranquil than Psoma.”

“But not so dopey as Oxycoton.”Of all the punk rockers, only Seany Rock

failed to have a pleasant experience with theenormous pill.

He said:“Spike, you who have fought the good

fight from New Jersey all the way to thePromised Land of the Punks, tell us, what is thename of this drug?”

Spike answered:“I know not, but I believe it takes its name

from the story of a traveler, a traveler not unlikeourselves.”

The punk rockers murmured in approval.Seany then said to Spike:

“Would this traveler’s name be ‘Suppo’?”Spike replied:“It would.”To which Seany Rock rejoindered:“I thought so. You have given us supposi-

tories.”At this the punk rockers became very

upset, except for Felch, who had shoved his por-tion up the old mustard road, as was his habitwith all manner of objects, big and small.

The members of The Defeated, and hewho traveled with them briefly, considered tar-ring and feathering Spike, but they had no tar,and fewer feathers, and were in no position toobtain either. Further, they had no mechanismfor heating the tar and, or so some recalled, itsmelled icky and would require, like, effort.

Sensing he’d upset the always-delicatebalance inside the van, the avatar of TheDefeated called for another three-day benderand this time he picked up the tab.

Baduzi’sNow on the third day they found a club

not far away from them, covered completelywith aluminum foil. They parked the van. Thepunk rockers disembarked and went in the clubso that Spike might negotiate with the manager.The club stank like the oldest, deepest, foulesturine pit in all the land.

The punk rockers went back outside andwaited in the van until the leader of TheDefeated should return to them. All the whilethey could not rid themselves of the stench fromthe club that had followed them back to the van.Spike returned reporting he’d secured a gig.

“This is Baduzi’s. Disembark, set-up yourequipment, and get ready for sound check.”

But no one moved. Spike said to them:“Do not be afraid. Jimmy says it’s cool.”Just then, suddenly, the helicopter, which

had brought them the canister with the pills,fired a missile at the club, which exploded in a

great fiery ball. The helicopter then flew high upinto the sky to return, presumably, to its ownplace.

Measles said:“I think we’re getting closer to

Hollywood, the Promised Land of the Punks.”Piker asked:“Do you still want us to unload the van?”Spike made no reply.

Cattle ProdNot many days afterwards, Spike and his

vanmates caught sight of a cowpunk bar calledCattle Prod. They dropped by and gave muchglory to Punk Rock. When the show was over,the avatar of Bergen County Punk Rockreceived a phone call on his cell phone. It wasJimmy.

Measles and Morty sat at the bar drinkingshots of Mount Gay Rum.

Measles said to Morty:“Can I ask you a question?”Morty replied:“Sure.”Measles continued.“Do you believe in Jimmy?” Morty gazed at his empty shot glass.

When he held it up to his eye and gazed at thelight over the cash register, the rest of the clubseemed to melt away.

“You already asked me that.”Measles was taken aback.“Well, do you?”Morty answered.“For the second time, no, I don’t. But

maybe the important question we should all beasking ourselves is this: ‘Does Jimmy believe inus?’”

To which Measles replied:“Whoa. That’s deep.”

An Inexplicable ThingIt happened on one occasion that as the

men were driving in the van, they found the roadso clear they did not see another vehicle for sev-eral hours. It was eerily quiet. All kinds of wildanimals stood at the side of the road: coyotes,deer, tragic possums, even a pack of feral hyenadogs. It was if their van was the last machine onearth, and the creatures of the earth had come totake back what had once been theirs.

Ape turned off the tape so that the quiet ofthe desert might envelop the van. The leader ofThe Defeated turned the tape player back onagain. He said to them:

“I am surprised by your foolishness. Whyare you afraid of these beasts when you are notafraid of much fouler creatures, like skinheadsand tow-truck drivers? Why do you sit on your

“Haircut, we are here to show you the great and marvelous wonders of Punk Rock.”

Pog Mo ThonPog Mo Thon

mower. He took my silk skivvies, my mono-grammed shirts and my ball-cap collection.He absconded with my Star Wars action fig-ures, my goal-plated tweezers, and mystuffed Bengal Tiger with the rubber anusretro fit. He stole my Charles Lindberghstamps, my custom-made putter and my drib-ble glass collection. He vamoosed with mycashmere sock monkey, my Sea MonkeyOcean Zoo, and my favorite mittens. Heganked my Sister Sledge records, my tuft ofMark McGwire’s scrotum hair (with certifi-cate of authenticity) and my personalPolaroid photo collection. He even revokedmy Hair Club for Men membership, thefucker. Now I must sit here like a lump ofmolten lead in a pot, day and night, in thecenter of this miserable heat, and reflect onthe fate I have purchased with such an evil

bargain.” Spike said to him:“This does not sound like the Jimmy I

know. The Jimmy I know is a great man. Akind man. As generous as he is good looking,or so he tells me.”

The unhappy dude said:“Verily, it is the same man of whom I

speak.”Spike replied:“How can you be so certain?”The Unhappy Dude answered:“Tour promoter. Very private. Does all

his business on the phone. Trigger happycoke freak who travels the country in a blackhelicopter. Any of that sound familiar?”

Spike said:“Did you say black helicopter?”But before he could

thumbs like a bunch of monkeys? Indeed, you shit-ass ferrets are not worthy of being in The Defeated.Is Jimmy not doing enough for you?”

The men of The Defeated kept their eyes onthe wild creatures during the course of this lecture.As if bidden by the leader of The Defeated’s voice,the animals came out from their station at the side ofthe highway and blocked the road in such a way thatthey swiftly circled the van. The punk rockers couldnot see beyond the beasts, so great was the multitude.The beasts did not interfere with the van, but circledit in a wide arc. And so The Defeated continued on,slowly now, with a halo of flesh and fur and teeth. Itwas eight hours before they saw another car, a blacktruck with California plates. An omen?

The Unhappy DudeAnd then they reached the desert where many

strange and not-so-wondrous things occurred. Thestrangest and not-so-wondrous of them all was thetime when Spike and the members of The Defeatedhappened upon what appeared to be the outline of aman sitting on a rock surrounded by a curious moat.The contents of the moat were being tossed about inthe wind like a waterspout.

Spike said:“What manner of moat thriveth so in the

desert?”Some members of The Defeated said it was

beer, others recycled oil. When the avatar of BergenCounty Punk Rock heard them discussing the matteramong themselves, he said:

“Pull over.”When the van drew near, they could see that

the man was ringed round with a trench filled withvomit, so they kept their distance. He was shaggyand soiled, and he sat on a rock, spewing puke inevery direction. The wind sometimes drove the vomitinto that portion of the moat in front of him andsometimes it blew it back, drenching him entire. Itwas a most disgusting spectacle.

Spike got out of the van and questioned him asto who he was, and what he was doing there.

The man replied:“I am an Unhappy Dude, the most woeful man

that ever knew woe, the most begrudged man in themusic industry. Once loved, now I am hated by all.Still, I am not here in accordance with my desserts,but because of the ineffable evil of Jimmy.”

Spike said:“You know Jimmy?”To which the unhappy dude replied:“Of course I know Jimmy. Who among us can

afford not to?”Spike said to him:“Explain yourself.”The Unhappy Dude spewed into a bucket with

great force. The members of The Defeated watchingfrom the van were most impressed.

Measles said:“The Unhappy Dude makes the Regurgitron

look silly. He gives much glory to Punk Rock.”Morty countered:“That, or the dude has a serious fucking flu.”The members of The Defeated and he who

traveled with him nodded their heads at this aptassessment.

The Unhappy Dude continued:“I signed a contract with Jimmy. When record

sales failed to cover my tour expenses, Jimmy tookme for all I had. He took my house, my villa inTahoe, my mother’s New York apartment, my uncle’scondo in Sedona, and my sister-in-law’s stepfather’smotor home in Cyclone City, Missouri. He got mycars, my his and her Cigarette Boats and my lawn

13

...the avatar of The Defeated called for another three-day benderand this time he picked up the tab.

answer, the Unhappy Dude began to get very,very sick, making the Unhappy Dude evenunhappier.

When the wretched fellow finished retch-ing, Spike said:

“Why is it you are so desperately ill?”The Unhappy Dude answered:“Every two weeks Jimmy poisons me so

that I cannot hold down food, water and otherthings necessary for human life. At the end ofthe second week, I begin to feel better and cantake meals again, but then each fortnight Jimmyfinds me and I am poisoned anew.Jimmy says it is my punishment thatI must forever feel the same feelingsmy music inspires.”

“Tell me, Unhappy Dude,what is your name?”

The Unhappy Dude answered:“My name is Michael

Bolton.”Spike began to get a very

unhappy feeling.

Club GlugAnd still there was more

desert to cross. Spike and his comrades drove

west, drinking beer and destroyingbrain cells and small animals inequal measure. On the evening oftheir fifth day in the sweltering sun,there appeared to them a small club.The club was little more than a mud-brick hut with a strip of galvanizedsheet metal for a roof.

A hand-painted sign told themits name: Club Glug.

The club was surrounded onall sides by dessicated cacti, aban-doned automobiles and ruined patiofurniture. Sensing his vanmates’excitement as they approached theclub and parked the van, Spike saidto them:

“Men, brothers, stifle your-selves. You are about to meetHaircut the Hermit, who has run thisclub for twenty-five years without asingle punk band. Wait here until Ireturn to you. Do not enter withoutmy permission.”

Before Spike could egress thevan, Morty said:

“Spike, Measles has passedout.”

Spike answered:“What happened?”Morty replied:“He passed out.”Spike removed a pink bandana from his

back pocket and mopped his brow. It was impor-tant to remain calm and cool, even in tempera-tures in excess of a hundred degrees and sur-rounded by those who could be counted on tobehave in a manner that could only be charac-terized as criminally stupid whenever a crisisarose. All this and more, Spike pondered, untilhe was, once again, cool.

“Wake him,” he said. “Give him somewater.”

To which Morty replied:“We can’t.”Spike answered:“Why not?”

Morty hemmed and hawed. He hung fireand beat around the bush. Finally, he spoke:

“We can’t wake him because Measles hastaken his pants off.”

This, Spike mused, is truly horrible.“Jonaz?”Jonaz, the violence enthusiast, snapped to

attention. “Yes, sir?”Spike responded:“Accelerate this man’s return to con-

sciousness.”

Jonaz picked up a can of beer and threw itat Measles’ head.

“Ow!” Measles exclaimed.Spike said to Measles:“Defeated One, why did you remove your

pants?”Measles replied:“To air out the basement. I guess the, um,

odor got to me and I passed out.” Spike said:“Put your pants on.” And then he left the van. He thought of

Suzy Swallow, as he often did at 6:34 in theevening, the precise time he first heard ThatSong on the Radio, and he wondered if Suzyever had conversations like the one he had justhad with her bandmates in The Swallows. Thenhe thought about Suzy Swallow, pantless, as heoften did at 6:35 in the evening, and felt a des-perate need to get disastrously drunk as quickly

as possible. When he reached the club entrance, his

old friend Haircut the Hermit came out to meethim, saying:

“How good and joyful it is that brothersmeet again.”

When he said this he requested Spike toorder the members of The Defeated and he whotraveled with them to come from the van. As thepunk rockers entered the club, Haircut theHermit called each of them by name, and thebrothers were greatly amazed by his power.

They were also greatly confoundedby his appearance. For Haircut theHermit had not had a haircut sinceReagan was President and Hall &Oates ruled the airwaves, albeit in amanner befitting a weak sister orflatulent baboon. Haircut the Hermitwas entirely covered in hair fromhead to foot. All the hair was whiteas snow on account of his great age.Spike could see only his face andeyes and a few shitty tattoos. He hadnot other clothing on him except abreech cloth fashioned from a HankWilliams Jr. t-shirt. When Spike sawthis he was discouraged within him-self and said:

“Alas for me who is a punkrocker and has given much glory toPunk Rock to see standing before mea man who will very soon die if hedoes not receive the power and gloryof Punk Rock.”

Spike added:“Haircut, we are here to

show you the great and marvelouswonders of Punk Rock. We havebeen showing the people of thisgreat country. You say in your heartthat you are better than Punk Rock,but you are not worthy to carry astudded belt or anarchy button. APunk Rocker uses the labor of hishands with which to make loudmusic and never, ever shakes a tam-bourine. How have you come to livesuch a useless life here? Don’t youknow that a life without Punk Rockis no kind of life at all?”

Haircut the Hermitanswered him:

“I was brought up on folkmusic, country western, adult con-temporary, and Christian hardcore

hip-hop hybrid.”At this the brothers recoiled in horror at

the sufferings of this very old and very stupidman.

Spike ordered The Defeated to load in andset-up immediately. And then they unleashedPunk Rock in the town that Punk Rock had near-ly forgotten.

When the show was over, Haircut theHermit opened the taps and let the beer flow.

“My sons,” he said, “you have givenmuch glory to Punk Rock. You have passed thetest. You are now ready for the Promised Landof the Punks.”

The leader of The Defeated drank his beerwith great relish. He sensed their long and ardu-ous journey was very nearly over. -Money

15

“...maybe the important question we should all beasking ourselves is this: ‘Does Jimmy believe in us?’”

The Dinghole ReportsBy: the Rhythm Chicken

(Commentary by Francis Funyuns)[Edited by Dr. Sicnarf]

Ich wixe oft! What more can I say? Twoweeks back in Europe and I’m excreting thatpastey grey substance till my diet evens out.East German bar Olympics! Absinthe in Prague!The Hofbrauhaus! Belgian genevre! Eatingevery unimaginable part of the pig, both cookedand RAW! Zywiec! The Wisconsin invasion!

(Slow down, Chicken! You’re not making anysense! – F.F.)

Okay, okay, so I’m still vibrantly ga-gaover my vacation. Can you blame me? Ich wixeoft!

[Mr. Chicken, could you please back up andstart over? We’re a little lost here. – Dr. S.]

Well, it began on the opening night of theWinter Olympics. The opening ceremony beganon my coop’s TV. Just then, Ruckus Thomas andthe Chez walk in and drag me out into theMilwaukee night for some ruckus juice.

(Yeah, I’m sure they really had to twist yourwing. – F.F.)

It was the Chez’s birthday, so Thomas andI had a mission. We begin at the Cactus Club

where bartender Christreater hands me a weirdwooden chicken that another patron had left forme. NICE! Many numerous Pabsts and gin shotslater we find ourselves at a fancy Irish pub withlive Irish folk music. The Chez decides to createa dance floor in front of the band, causingruckus, merriment, and dismay. His feet are fly-ing every which way until they quickly scufflehim out to the back parking lot where he vomitsvaliantly amongst the Audis and BMWs.Mission accomplished. And so began our LiverOlympics which coincidentally mirrored thoseother Olympics in Salt Lake City.

[Hey, RC. Is there a Dinghole Report in heresomewhere? – Dr. S.]

First of all, only Ted Perry can call me“RC.” Second, I’m gettin’ to it. Just sit back andenjoy the build up.

(Here Doc, have a Pabst. I have a feeling this isgonna be a long one. – F.F.)

—-sound of threePabsts crackin’ open—-

(gulp, gulp, gulp).... smack! Aaaah! So the nextafternoon the Chez drove Ruckus Thomas and Ito the airport. I walk in carrying a small bag ofclothes, my chickenhead, the weird woodenchicken, and a case of Pabst. As we check in andwalk around I’m getting the most inquisitivelooks for my chickenhead. The security checkswere the best! MY CHICKENHEAD GOT X-

RAYED! Some security workers would hold upthe head to their coworkers and crack jokes.They searched inside for weapons or drugs orwhatever. I was worried that the years of beingsoaked with beer, sweat, blood, cum, vomit, andspit would harbor some detectable biohazardousspore or life form. The chickenhead and I bothpassed our cavity searches and were allowedthrough. Whew! We stopped at the Milwaukeeairport’s Renaissance Books so I could pick upJames Michener’s Alaska for the endless flightsahead. A used bookstore in an airport is sheerbrilliance! Milwaukee to Minneapolis toAmsterdam to Brussels in just thirteen hours.Pure joy.

Soon we are at Dan and Ben’s Brusselsapartment (see Dinghole Report #12) drinkingdown what are most probably the only cans ofPabst in all of Belgium. Dan and Ben receive theweird wooden chicken as a house-warming gift.The Liver Olympics continue as we hit thestreets of Belgium for some Hoegaardens,Jupilers, and Duvels. Belgium may not havePabst, but they do have some fine substitutes!We continue to strive for the gold.

The next morning Dan, Thomas, and Icatch a train up to Amsterdam, find a hotel roomin the pouring rain, and prepare for ruckus,Holland-style. I leave the chickenhead proppedup in our first floor window so we can find ourroom later: a clucking homing beacon! Cluck.....cluck..... cluck..... So we hit a few pubs, a fewcoffee shops, and stagger around the red lightdistrict looking at ladies under glass. It’s aweird, dirty city. I finally got to see the“Catboat.” No cats. We kept walking and drink-ing and walking and drinking until we were lost,internal chicken compass be damned! Barely abronze.

The following day Dan goes back toBrussels while Thomas and I fly Czech Airlinesto Prague. The chickenhead gets more qualityglances and security reactions. We are met at thePrague airport by our most gracious host, Mr.Paul Drake. He gives us a long tour of the cen-tral city. Prague castle, St. Charles Bridge, theAstronomical Clock, etc... An ancient city ofendless beauty. Being of mostly Bohemiandescent, I make myself at home. The beers areabout twenty cents per half-liter. I AM HOME!Pilsner Urquell, Budwar, Velvet, Staropramen!We try the absinthe. The locals show us proper“absinthe etiquette” with the snifter and theflaming spoon of sugar. We most certainlyearned our gold medals THAT night!

[So, did the Rhythm Chicken even PERFORM,or did you just carry the head around for goodlooks? – Dr. S.]

Like a royal knight of ruckus, I slayed the silence.

(Cripes, Chicken! No one cares about this shit!Get on with the Dinghole Exports! – F.F.)

Okay, moving right along. Two days laterwe were train-bound to Wroclaw, Poland. I’mcurrently in my second semester of learningPolish, so I figured it would be a good thing tothrust us into the belly of the beast, Polandzilla!Poland’s Pabst-equivalent is called Zywiec.Poprosze dwie Zywiec! Dwie wiecej! Dwiewiecej! I get to practice my Polish mostly withbartenders. While in Poland I read some ofJames Michener’s Alaska, which I find all tooamusing since I read his other book, Poland, lastAugust while in Alaska. Huh! Leaving our roomone day I flag down a housekeeper lady, hold upthe chickenhead, and ask her, “Jaki to jest popolsku?” (How do you say it in Polish?). Shesmiles and says, “Ooooooh! Maskotka!”Dziekuje bardzo! Two nights of high Zywiecintake earns us each a silver. From Poland wealso call JJ’s La Puerta in Sister Bay, Wisconsinto send ’em dial-a-shots from across the globe!Clucka polka clucka polka!

Next we are train-bound to Dresden,Germany. The chickenhead continues to getfunky looks everywhere we go. We hop off thetrain at Dresden’s Hauptbahnhof. We are greet-ed by Germany’s branch manager of the TavernSquad, The Chancellor, and his friend Claus.They are both waving little American flags thatThe Chancellor stole from my Milwaukeeneighbor’s front yard in late September. I wavethe chickenhead back at them. Soon we aredowntown having bratwurst with gluhwein(spiced steaming-hot wine! yum!). Later thatnight The Chancellor takes us to “Club Cult,”the modern discotheque in his small hometownof Frohburg. It is an old East German coal bri-quette factory turned into a three floor ultra-modern night/dance club. We make our way tothe top floor. The place is PACKED. We startdowning an endless supply of Diebals,Kostrisser, and Radeburger. The DJ finds outthat two Americans are there and starts yellinginto the microphone, “INDIANA!”

(INDIANA?!! For cryin’ out loud, WHYINDIANA?!! WISCONSIN! WISCONSIN!

WISCONSIN! – F.F.)

That’s what I told theguy, but he keeps on yelling“INDIANA!” Soon, Germans are asking usquestions, offering us drinks, and wanting toexchange e-mail addresses. Weird!

[Excuse me, Mr. Chicken, but why Indiana? –Dr. S.]

(NO DOUBT! WHY FUCKIN’ INDIANA?!! –F.F.)

Well, The Chancellor explained to us thatthey see us as “native” Americans, being bornhere, which makes us “indians,” hence“Indiana.” Somewhere, somehow, this mightmake sense, but I don’t believe it. The nightbegins to make less and less sense. I requestsome Heino songs...... AND HE PLAYSTHEM! Since the DJ was so hell bent on yellingthings into the microphone I told him to yell“GREEN BAY PACKERS!”...... AND HE DID!The four of us go wild! I told him to yell “JJ’SLA PUERTA!”..... AND HE DID! I told him toyell “LET THERE BE RUCKUS!”....... towhich the four of us replied,“OOOOOOOOOOOOH YEAH!!!” The EastGerman version of Chris Farley/John Belushi iswalking around making everyone sip from hisliter of “mystery booze.” He befriends the“Indiana duo.” Yes, the Liver Olympics were infull swing when they were shockinglyECLIPSED by the German bar Olympics!!!Teams of four staggering Krauts each are com-peting in the “bar bobsled.” Each team of fourstraddles a 2x6 wooden board with empty RedBull boxes on their heads as helmets, one handholding the board between their legs and theother holding on the cardboard helmet. The DJcounts down to zero and yells, “GO!” The fourdrunks charge around the bar at breakneckspeeds and cross the finish line to the screams ofthe crowd. Salt Lake City’s got NOTHING onthese guys! Finally, the DJ calls up the last teamto the starting gate, “TEAM INDIANA!” Theplace screams! We had already been at goldmedal status in our own Liver Olympics when

we suited up and straddled the board. TheChancellor, myself, Ruckus Thomas, andClaus..... the dream team. Huh! The DJ countsdown and yells, “GO!” We start charging andthe first thing we do is hit a table full of emptybeer glasses. SMASH!!! We stop in drunkenconfusion, but the crowd is yelling, “GO! GO!GO!” So we continue to swerve around the bar,across the dance floor, through the back room,and across the finish line. The whole way, all Ihear is broken glass as we knock EVERYONEand EVERYTHING over! I’m preparing to getmy ass kicked, but everyone just CHEERS!!RUCKUS!! OUT OF CONTROL RUCKUS!!These people know how to raise a ruckus! Thesepeople know how to DRINK! Thomas and I arein awe. Frohburg is like a little Wisconsin snugin the former GDR. Ich leibe Heino! Ich wixeoft!

{OK, Rhythm Chicken. Get to a DingholeReport or I’m pulling your column! – Retodd}

(Holy shit! The big man himself! – F.F.)

<HEY! – Sean>

[Mr. Chicken, I would advise you to deliveryour report NOW! – Dr. S]

Dinghole Report #19: The AusgeflippterTour!(Rhythm Chicken sightings #235 to #238)

The Chancellor wakes us up in his par-ents’ guest room and immediately opens the bal-cony door and windows. Apparently the intensemethane haze was a bit too much and his eyeswere watering. “It’s time for the RhythmChicken tour!” he says. Thomas and I arebeyond hungover. We are beyond dead. We arestill in gold medal form! We walk downstairs toa traditional German breakfast, uncookedground pork spread on rolls and bread. RAWPORK! Punk Rock! We pick up the makeshiftChicken kit from a friend of a 17

(opposite page) Chicken plays the drum stage at BurgGnandstein. (right) Chicken at Volkerschluchtdenkmal.

(above) The Bayern Parlaiment Buliding in Munich.Notice the sticker.

friend. The Chancellor has the tour all laid outand we’re off.

The first gig is in the small town squareof Kohren, in front of a pottery shop. TheChancellor’s friends are already there as acheering squad, not exactly knowing what toexpect. The lady from the pottery shop bringsout a basket full of ceramic painted eggs and aceramic chicken to put in the show! A photogra-pher and journalist from the Leipzig newspaperare there! The opening drumroll starts and it hasbegun. RHYTHM RUCKUS IN THE EAST-ERN BLOC! FINALLY! The Chicken’s ears areflapping. Sunday shoppers stop to check out thesilly American. The photographer is taking tonsof photos. The journalist is grilling TheChancellor for an explanation. The crowd cheersduring the breaks, but I’m not sure if they knowwhy! I can’t help but to think that for them theshow must have been like seeing an elephant inTime Square, or seeing He-who-cannot-be-named french kissing George W. Bush at aFugazi show! I don’t know. Does this stuff makemore sense in Wisconsin? Who cares! We’re ontour!

The second stop was at a rural castle out-side of Kohren called the “Burg Gnandstein.”We carry the Chicken kit into the castle court-yard where I found an empty little stage with abig empty throne. Royalty! It was surely meantto be! The stage was set, the chickenhead pulledon, and I took the grandest drum throne of themall. My first ever castle show began. Chivalry isnot dead! Like a royal knight of ruckus, I slayedthe silence. The castle was ROCKIN’! CASTLEROCK! Unfortunately, there was no peasantmoshpit. The passing tourists did stop and clap alittle. I was quite overwhelmed. From the out-

field of a professional baseball stadium to a cas-tle in Germany, and I ask myself the whole time,“What the hell am I doing?” The crowd thins outand we move on.

The third show takes place just outside ofLeipzig at the Volkerschlachtdenkmal. Yes,that’s ONE WORD! It means “people’s battlemonument.” It’s an ENOURMOUS structure onthe site of the Battle of Nations, where Napoleondefeated the Prussians in 1813. What betterplace for a Rhythm Chicken show, right?Tourists watched as the Chicken kit was throwntogether. The chickenhead was adorned and peo-ple started to congregate and chuckle. Thencame the rhythm ruckus. Rock on, Napoleon!Have Green Day, Journey, or the Grateful Deadever played the Volkerschlachtdenkmal? I don’tTHINK so! Another feather in my cap... er…wing. I think this is where my hangover startedto fade. Ungh.

The fourth and final show took place inthe Marktplatz (marketplace) in central Leipzig.It was a busy shopping district amongst the tallbuildings downtown. Other street “musicians”were already doing their thing. Russian immi-grants were all assembled with their bongos,wind chimes, flutes, and mandolins, playing forpocket change. I’ll never forget the looks ontheir faces as they saw a drum set being assem-bled near them, as if just saying, “Oh no.” Thenthe thunderous rock rhythms began. TheChicken ears were flappin’ this way and that.The powerbeats echoed tenfold between all thebuildings. The other street acts could only stopand wait till my rock opera was completed. Theydidn’t even TRY to compete.... and they hadELECTRIC SOUNDSYSTEMS and stuff! HA!The ruckus wound down, and the day’s tour was

over. We packed up and found a café.Two days later we picked up the Leipzig

newspaper before driving down to Munich.HOLY SCHNITZEL! There, on the front page,is a full color photo of the Rhythm Chicken. Lifecan really be just too much at times! The arti-cle’s title reads “Ein Verruchtes HuhnMusizierte in Kohren” which means somethinglike “A maniac chicken made music in Kohren.”VERUCHTES!!! It also refers to the Chicken asan “Ausgeflippter US-Amerikaner”......I’M ANAUSGEFLIPPTER!!! FUCK YEAH! Later inthe article it also says, in German, that I play the“cafés and streets of Lake Michigan.”.....mmmmwaaah ha ha ha ha!

(That’s just amazing, Chicken! How do you getaway with that shit? – F.F.)

ICH WIXE OFT!

[So, what else happened? – Dr. S.]

Well, the Liver Olympics continuedwhole-heartedly in the Hofbrauhaus andMunich’s other swank beer hall, the Augustiner.Gold medals all around. We knocked ‘em backwith the Burgermeister Meisterburger. We tookthe train back to Brussels, spent a gold medalday in Leuven, Belgium, one last night inBrussels, and the horrendous flights home. Soonafter landing in Milwaukee, we were watchingKiss play the closing ceremony in Salt LakeCity. We ended our Liver Olympics back at theCactus Club. I played the Who on the jukeboxfor our closing ceremony. Ich wixe oft!–Rhythm Chickenrhythmchicken@hotmail.com

The Road to the OdeonI stood on the corner of Mission and

Valencia, staring up at the marquee in front ofthe Odeon Bar. It read “Tonight Only: One Manvs. Corporate America.” I thought to myself,tonight’s gonna be a good night. I said to Rich,who was standing next to me, “I’ve got a goodfeeling about tonight. It’s gonna be a goodshow.”

“You say that every night,” Rich said.And he was right. I’d said that every night

of the tour, and most of the time, I’d said it justto make myself feel a little better. But on thisparticular night, I meant it. We were on the mar-quee. People driving down Mission Street in SanFrancisco could see that we’d come to town todo a show. It was one man vs. corporateAmerica. Sure, if you looked closer, you couldsee that Rich Mackin, Retodd, and I were alllisted as performers, and sure, technically, that’sthree men vs. corporate America, but I didn’tcare. It was going to be a good night.

It had been a long road to the Odeon, a tenday spoken word tour full of highs and lows,strikes and gutters, and a lot of lessons learned.And, to be honest, I never intended to set up atour at all. Things just happened that way.

The short version of the story went likethis: Retodd and I (the publishers of this hererag) teamed up with a local record label andbooked four rock’n’roll shows. During one ofour meetings with the record label guy, he sug-gested that we get one of our writers to MC theshows. I thought of Rich Mackin, partiallybecause Rich is a funny guy, and partiallybecause Retodd and I published Rich’s book(Dear Mr. Mackin…). Rich agreed to MC, andhe bought a plane ticket. Then the shows wentsour. It’s a long and typical punk rock story, butthe end result was that Rich still had a planeticket and was still coming to LA for elevendays. I felt responsible, so, by way of making itup to Rich, I set up a small tour. At first, I triedto just set up a bunch of spoken word shows inLA. I figured, hell, the LA area has about 132different towns. I should be able to set up showsin ten of those towns. But, like everything else,things weren’t that simple. A mini-tour wasborn.

One Day on the Roadwith Sean-NNa-NNa

Our first show was in Flagstaff, Arizona –an eight hour drive from LA. We pulled out ontothe freeway and Rich started telling me stories.He told me about some of his crazy friends anddifferent things they’d done. He told me aboutprotests he’d gone to and ex-girlfriends of his

and his Thanksgiving weekend

and so on. Listening to him talk was just likereading his columns, and it became really clearto me that, up until that point, I pretty much onlyknew Rich from his writing. Now, his writinghad a physical voice and it was coming from aphysical person. That was kind of a trippythought for me to have. At the same time, it wasmy first clue as to why this tour needed to hap-pen in the first place.

Rich also amazed me with his ability to talknon-stop for hours. He explained his worldviews and he told stories and jokes pretty muchfrom the time we left LA until we were deep intothe Arizona desert. The conversation took a hai-tus while we listened to the Dwarves Blood,Guts, and Pussy album twice in a row. Then, werambled on the rest of the way to Flagstaff.

I lived in Flagstaff a few years ago. DrivingI-40 into town, climbing the foothills out of thedesert and into the ponderosa pine forest, seeingthe patches of snow gradually get bigger as wegot to a higher elevation, and catching a glimpseof the snow-covered Humphries Peak loomingnorth of town all made me feel like I was head-ing back home. Like the past few years hadn’thappened and I was coming back from a roadtrip, not starting one.

Rich was stoked about getting to Flagstaff,too. He kept singing bastardized snatches of theAtom and His Package song, “Shopping Spree”:Flagstaff, Arizona, one day on the road withSean-Na-Na…

“I’ve got a good feeling about tonight,” Isaid. “It’s gonna be a good show.”

Rich smiled and told me a story about aspoken word show he’d done in some snowytown once.

I’d performed a bunch of spoken word-typeevents in Flagstaff. When I first moved there in‘94, a guy named Ricardo would put on coolshows in a basement space downtown. I did mything there a couple of times, and I went there afew more times to watch other people do theirthings. Those were good nights: twenty or thirtykids crowded into an unheated basement, catch-ing warmth off each other, listening to a fewpeople tell stories or read poems under aportable worklight that was clamped to exposedplumbing. I even got to see Retodd perform indrag there once. After Ricardo got sick of beinga one-man scene and closed the basement space,an art gallery off Beaver Street started havingspoken word nights. I read at the art galleryonce. Only once, though, because the owners ofthe gallery let a DJ spin techno records while Ispoke. I also entered a poetry slam competitionin a downtown Flagstaff bar once. There wereabout fifty contestants and a two-hundred-dollarprize for the winner. I won the first two roundsby a huge margin, but by the time I got up on

stage for the third and final round, the Mickeysbigmouths and shots of Early Times had alreadybeaten me. And so on. The point is, Flagstaffhad always been a good place to read. So whenwe showed up in the ice-covered parking lot ofthe near-empty bookstore where our show wasscheduled, I still felt optimistic.

We walked up to the store. Our poster wastaped to the front door. A good sign. We walkedin and I saw a couple of old friends millingaround the crime-book section. Another goodsign. A bunch of Rich’s books and my bookswere on display in front of the magazine rack. Istill felt optimistic. Then, I heard someone struman open G-chord and I remembered what I hatedabout Flagstaff. Oh christ, I thought. I forgotabout the fucking hippies.

The acoustic guitar sound slapped me inthe face. I turned to see a fifty-year-old long hairbumbling his way through “I Am a Rock.” Iwanted to turn away, but something else caughtmy eye. Something even more painful. On theeasel next to the hippie was a flyer that listed thenight’s events. On the top of the list was RichMackin. Below his name was my name. Belowthat was the hippie’s name. He was our openingact. Doh.

I waited until the hippie was packed up andgone and until enough time elapsed to make itclear to anyone who cared that I was definitelynot part of the same show as that guy. Then, Irounded up whoever I could and started tellingmy story.

Only about seven or eight people weregathered around when I started my story, but Ididn’t really mind. It was the first night of thetour. Things were bound to get better. Besides, itwas snowing outside and a hippie was our open-ing act. Hell, I thought, if I still lived inFlagstaff, I wouldn’t come out to see me tonight.By the time I finished reading, about fifteen peo-ple were gathered around.

Rich took over the stage and launched intohis Consumer Defense Corporate Poetry, andthat’s when I saw something I couldn’t under-stand. Rich read through his letters, and the fif-teen people all laughed. I sat in the back, behindeveryone else and glanced around the bookstore.I noticed a handful of people shopping, andwhenever Rich neared a punch line, I glancedback at the shoppers. They were straining tohear what Rich had said and seemed to want toknow why people were laughing, but they neverwalked close enough to hear. Strange.

Rich finished his set and almost all fifteenpeople who had been gathered around Rich andI during the readings started talking about whichbars they were going to take us to. The nighttook a big turn for the better. Fifteen is a smallnumber of people when they’re your audience20

One guy even said, “I’ll book you, but if you read any poetry, I’m gonna throw shit at you.”

and you drove all day to perform for them, butfifteen is a large number of people when they’resuddenly your friends and you’re all going outdrinking. As we left the bookstore and descend-ed on the bars of Flagstaff, it became clear to methat going to a town and performing isn’t every-thing. Staying in that town and making friends issomething, too.

Cheer Up, Emo KidTucson was four hours south and a world

away from Flagstaff. We left the lush, green for-est of Flagstaff, the snowy mountain and the icyroads and headed down into the wide, flat desertbroken up only by saguaro cacti and high, flatmesas. When we hit Tucson the temperature wasin the high seventies. It was December 1st.

Our show was at a downtown record storecalled Toxic Ranch. We were scheduled to per-form with two local Tucson bands: theOkmoniks and the Knockout Pills. The owner ofToxic Ranch, Bill Sassenberger,used to run a cool record labelcalled Toxic Shock. He also used tobook shows out of a boxing gym inPomona in the early eighties. A lotof now-big-name punk bandsplayed there. I knew this about Billbefore I walked into Toxic Ranch,so I expected his record store to becool. When I walked in, I was stillsurprised at just how cool it was. Itwas one of those stores where Iwanted to check out everything:every CD, every record, every flyeron the wall.

I introduced myself to Bill andstarted chatting with him, but it wastough for me to focus on the con-versation. Every time I turned myhead, I saw an album or a 7” or aCD that I wanted to add to my col-lection. I’d turn away and see an oldissue of a now-defunct zine that Iused to like. I’d remind myself thatI didn’t have any money and could-n’t buy anything, so I’d try to justlook down, but as my glance shot itsway to the floor, I’d see the “CheerUp, Emo Kid” bumper sticker in thedisplay in front of me and think,how can I pass that up? Finally, Isettled for looking Bill in the eyesand talking about music for a while.Pretty soon, the Knockout Pillsshowed up.

The Knockout Pills are kind ofa Tucson super-group. And I knowthat being a “super-group” inTucson is like being the smartest kid in thedumb class, but everyone in the Knockout Pillscame from a band that I liked. The guitarist,Jason, and the drummer, Gerard, used to be inthe Weird Lovemakers, the bassist/singer was inthe Fells, and the other guitarist/other singer isin Los Federales. Knowing all of this, I expect-ed great things from these guys. For the timebeing, they just set up their equipment.

Two of the Okmoniks were late, so wemilled around for a bit before starting the show.I got a chance to catch up with Gerard andJason. Gerard told me about English class (he’sa school teacher). Jason told me about the smutbusiness (he’s a programmer for porn web sites).A crowd gradually filtered in and joined us in

the milling around.After a really long time, all of the

Okmoniks still weren’t there, so we went aheadand started the show anyway. A decent crowdhad gathered in the record store. I’m not sureexactly how many people were there, but theplace seemed full. I told the same story I’d toldin Flagstaff – a story about five roommates whoget snowed in for two weeks and start solving alltheir problems by boxing each other. The storyseemed to go along without a hitch. Peoplelaughed. I had fun. I told my story for afterabout fifteen minutes. Then, it was theKnockout Pills’ turn.

The Knockout Pills were awesome. I wassurprised that such a small record store was ableto accommodate all that rock’n’roll. I expectedthe walls to shake, the cans in the Coke machineto explode, the windows to rattle out. But thebuilding held together; only the crowd wasblown away.

Next up was Rich Mackin. Day two of thetour. I’d listened to him talk for four hoursstraight, from Flagstaff to Tucson, and he wasstill funny. I still laughed at all of his jokes.

And yes, all of the Okmoniks did finallyshow up. And yeah, they were definitely worththe wait. They tried to rock the house down, too.The store held together pretty well. It was atough little building. I, on the other hand, wasgoing a little out of my head, stoked to be a partof a show with two really cool, brand new bandsand one really funny spoken word guy. A showbooked by a guy who’d booked SocialDistortion and the Adolescents twenty years ear-lier. And, coolest of all, a well-attended, fun-as-hell Saturday afternoon show.

Fat Off $3 BurritosAfter Tucson, it was back to LA. I’d set up

three shows in the greater LA area: one atMidnight Special Bookstore in Santa Monica,one at Zine-O-Rama in Silverlake, and one atHeadline Records in West Hollywood. TheMidnight Special reading was a little rough. Theonly people who showed up were a handful ofRich’s old high school friends and one fifty-something-year-old woman. The womanthought Rich was hilarious. Rich’s friendsthought the woman was hot. I can still hear themnow, “Come on, dude. Admit it. If you had tohave sex with a woman who was in her fifties,you’d pick her, wouldn’t you?”

We fared a lot better at Zine-O-Rama, andeven better at Headline Records. The LA NewTimes listed the Headline show as a top thing todo in LA on that particular Wednesday night.Plenty of people came out to see Rich. We soldsome books, had some fun, lived through some

things that were bound to becomegood stories. But I was getting rest-less. We were in LA. My home. Icould sleep in my own bed andshower whenever I wanted and puton clean clothes every day andwork on the magazine and answermy email and go back to getting fatoff the three dollar burritos from theMexican joint around the corner. Iwanted to get back on the road.

I should’ve been careful what Iwished for.

A Capella-bbillyThe show was at the Truth Art

Gallery in San Diego. DaveyTilthwheel had set it up. Thingslooked good when we first pulledup. The owners of the gallery werereally friendly. They knewRazorcake and gave us free beerfrom their little bar and talked to usabout art and music and stuff.Davey told us that he’d called abunch of his friends to come downand play some acoustic punk songsbetween our readings. “Is there suchthing as an acoustic punk song?” Iasked Davey.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t thinkanyone’s gonna come down any-way,” Davey said. But it was typicalDavey – always underestimating hisdraw.

By the time my first beer washalf empty, the gallery was half full.Almost everyone in the place had

an acoustic guitar with him, or was with some-one with an acoustic guitar. Davey sat on thecorner of the bar, writing the night’s line-up ona bar napkin. He called me over and said, “Imixed you guys up so that a few people willplay music, Retodd will read, a few more peoplewill play music, Money’ll read, a few more peo-ple, then you, then a few more, then Mackin. Isthat cool?”

“How many acoustipunks are there?” Iasked.

“Not too many.” Davey counted down hislist. “Nine,” he said.

“That’s cool.”The music began and I learned a real quick

lesson: most punk rock guitarists21

Bulldog Front by Tom Wrenn

really need all the noise and distortion and back-up band to cover up what bad guitarists they are.The first couple of acoustipunks apparently had-n’t even practiced their songs before startingtheir set. It wasn’t good. I accelerated my drink-ing.

Retodd started his reading and a big groupof people gathered around him. He read his storyand people laughed and paid attention and, ingeneral, were very cool. I turned to Rich, whowas standing next to me, and said, “This isgonna be a good night.”

More tattooed guys showed up with theirguitars and added themselves to the bill. More ofthem played unrehearsed songs. One or two ofthe guys actually pulled off a good song or two,but they were definitely the minority. I keptdrinking harder. I was definitely in the majority.

Money came up next. He wore a monk’srobe with an anarchy patch and punk buttons allover it. He preached the word of Discovery ofAmerica (the story he’s been running in his col-umn for the past few issues). He had to screamabove the drunker contingent in the crowd, butthere was still a good sized group hangingaround him, hearing the adventures of Spike andthe Defeated. They gave much glory to PunkRock.

Shortly after Money finished, the bar ranout of beer, so the crowd turned to hard liquor. Iran into Chris Fields, who used to be in JohnCougar Concentration Camp but is now in theDwarves. I hadn’t seen him in years. We talkedfor a while. We emptied out the whiskey in myflask. We talked some more. We ran into anoth-er guy who had a bottle. He offered us a shot. Iturned it down, thinking, if I have one moredrink, I’m gonna be too fucked up to perform.Then, it occurred to me that, if I didn’t performsoon, the crowd would be too drunk to care. Ilooked around the art gallery. The crowd wasalready looking too drunk to care.

I hunted down Davey. He was sitting on theside of the stage, looking down at his bar nap-kin. By this time, his napkin had about twentynames on it. Way too many acts to perform inone night. “Hey Davey,” I said. “You thinkmaybe me and Rich could go next? Beforeeveryone’s completely wasted, you know?”

Davey nodded. “I was thinking the samething,” he said.

I looked up at the acoustipunk on stage.He’d just started a song. I said something toDavey, and we started talking about something.I can’t remember what it was now, but it wasinteresting enough at the time so that neither ofus noticed when the acoustipunk finished hissong. And before I could jump on the stage andtell my story again, some rockabilly guy jumpedup there. He sat on a stool, strapped his guitarover his shoulder, adjusted the mic, andlaunched into an a capella rockabilly song. Andhe couldn’t sing. At all. Never in my life had Iwanted to go deaf so badly. I looked around thegallery. People were guzzling their drinks andheading for the door. The a cappella dude gotabout two minutes into his song, stopped, said,“Sorry, I fucked that up,” and started the songover again. Believe me that I’m not exageratingwhen I say that more than half of the crowd leftduring that guy’s six minute a capella-billy. Theonly people who stuck around were the onesdrunk enough to ignore it or the ones who werestill waiting to perform.

Shit, I thought, everyone who was soberenough to give spoken word a

chance has either just walked out the door or ison the way out. And don’t get me wrong.Alcohol is generally a good thing at a reading. Itloosens people up. But I’ve also performedenough readings to know that your set better beover before the crowd gets on their third orfourth drink, or you’re gonna have a rough go ofit. This crowd had already drained their firstkeg. The garbage can behind the bar was fillingup with empty liquor bottles. This was a desper-ate situation. Either Rich or I could still perform,but it was pretty clear that the crowd wouldn’tsit through both of our sets. I thought about it.Rich had come all the way out from Boston. I’dset up this tour for him, not for me. I decided totake a knee and let Rich have my spot.

I hunted Rich down just as the a capella-billy guy was halfway through slaughtering hissecond song. “You want to go next?” I asked.

“I want to go now,” Rich said.Davey gave the rockabilly guy the hook,

and Rich started into his set. At first, only ahandful of people gathered around and listened.Rich stuck to short letters, ones that had quickpunchlines. He got a few laughs, and more peo-ple came over to see what was so funny. He gotmore laughs, and more people came over. Oneby one, Rich won over the room this way. I satin the corner, watching the whole scene unfold,thinking, day seven of the tour, and Rich’s let-ters are still funny.

Davey went up on stage next. He playedjust one song. “Manila.” I’d like to say it’s myfavorite Tiltwheel song, but every Tiltwheelsong is my favorite Tiltwheel song. It had asoothing effect. I listened to Davey, and hismusic seemed to wash away all the bad stuff thatcame before it.

After Davey’s song, I set up a merch table.I figured, hell, some people laughed when Richread. Maybe one or two of them will want to buythe book. I also set out some copies ofRazorcake since three of our columnists had per-formed that night. Then, I sat back and watchedthe crowd continue to get drunker and listenedto more bad music.

I was out of booze and out of money. Onlyone person came up to the merch table: a womanwho hung on to the surfer girl look ten yearsafter she was too old to pull it off. She picked upRich’s book and said, “Are these free?”

“No,” I said. “Ten bucks.”“That’s too bad,” she said. “They should be

free.”I gave her my best take-a-hike,-lady look.

She put the book down and walked away.Something about that lady’s comment real-

ly hurt, though. I thought of a whole speech Iwanted to give her. Ask her if she had any ideahow much work went into putting out a book.Tell her about all the nights I stayed up or daysI spent scanning Rich’s letters into the comput-er, photoshopping them, laying the book out,typesetting, getting ISBN numbers and barcodes and registering it with the Library ofCongress, designing the cover, getting the bookprinted, writing press releases, sending the bookout for reviews, and so on and so on. Not tomention the eight years Rich spent writing thebook. And all of that was perfect bound andready to read for probably one fourth of whatshe spent at the bar that night. I almost wantedto walk over to her and tell her all of that, but Iwas already feeling like a fool for getting somad over one little comment. My anger turnedinward and I started feeling like I was just feel-

ing sorry for myself because I didn’t get to readthat night and because I was out of booze andout of money. Part of me knew that a little badluck and a bummer of a night was nothing to getupset about. But as I sat at that merch table, Iwas getting really upset. I started asking myself,what the hell are you doing? Why on earth areyou doing a spoken word tour? I thought backagain to how I’d gotten into this mess, to howthe rock’n’roll shows had gone sour and to howI came up with this idea of dragging Richaround the west coast for no apparent reason. Ithought about when I booked the spoken wordtour. Before I’d started scheduling the shows, Ieven refused to use the term “spoken word.” Ijust called it a “reading.” I’d talk to promoters orwhoever was booking the show and I’d say thatI wanted to schedule a reading. They’d invari-ably say, “What, like poetry?” Or hang up. Oneguy even said, “I’ll book you, but if you readany poetry, I’m gonna throw shit at you.” Andreading wasn’t exactly right, either, since bothRich and I had practiced and memorized ourrespective performances. So we didn’t actuallyread. We told stories. I tried to tell promotersthat we were storytellers, instead. Invariably,they’d say, “You don’t need to book a night totell stories. You just gotta find someone at thebar who’ll listen to you.” I even tried a fewother terms, but eventually gave up and startedcalling it spoken word. And cursed myself forbeing a writer who couldn’t come up with a bet-ter term than spoken word. It just sounds so pre-tentious. I can’t think about it without thinkingabout some old punk rocker who can’t get alongwith her band anymore, so she tells ramblingstories and reads bad poetry. And that’s not whatI’m about, I thought. Why would I do this? Andmaybe there’s no term for it because, deep downinside, no one wants to go to a show like this?

Again, part of me knew that I was taking itall too hard and that I was letting self-pity getthe better of me. Another part of me, though, feltlike I was trying to reinvent the wheel. I felt kindof foolish.

The next night was much worse. We wentto Anaheim.

Get Off the StageIt was the only remaining rock’n’roll show.

We’d set up a night at the Chain Reaction inAnaheim, which is generally a pretty coolvenue. We’d booked Tiltwheel, Smogtown, andthe Smut Peddlers before everything went sourwith that one record label. The promoter at theChain Reaction said he’d bail us out, though. Hesaid, “I’ll get you a new headliner. Don’tworry.”

The new headliner was Total Chaos – theMotley Crue of punk rock. I mean this in theworse way. They’re fucking awful. But we fig-ured, what the hell? Three of our favorite bandsare still booked. Rich can still MC. And we canleave when Motley Chaos comes on. So that wasour plan.

The night went like this: Rich started toMC. He was funny. Someone screamed for himto get off the stage. Tiltwheel played. They wereawesome. The crowd screamed for them to getoff the stage. Smogtown played. They wereawesome. The crowd screamed for them to getoff the stage. The Smut Peddlers played. Theywere awesome. The crowd screamed for them toget off the stage. I sat behind the merch table allnight, slipping whiskey into my cokes, trying

22

not to let on that I was drunk since this was anall ages show. No alcohol was allowed in thevenue, and the promoter would’ve been prettyoffended if he knew I brought a flask in with me.When Total Crue came on (and yes, the crowddid scream for them to get off the stage) Retoddand Rich cleared out. I got stuck with all themerch. I had Retodd refill my flask, made awhiskey and coke that was almost all whiskey,and started heckling Total Chaos. Their merchgirl, who was sitting right next to me, gave me areally shocked and dirty look. Forty-five min-utes later, the show mercifully ended. The kidsfinally got what they wanted: an empty stage.

Eight PabstsI walked into the Odeon. It was one of

those really dark, drinkers bars. They had Pabston tap. Two good signs. I introduced myself andRich and told the bartender that we were theshow for that night. The bartender propped hisfoot on a cooler, leaned forward, and spoke likehe was telling us a secret. “I wouldn’t charge acover if I were you,” he said. “No one evercomes here on Sunday nights.”

After Anaheim and San Diego, I wasprimed for failure. Fuck it if no one comes in, Ithought. The owner of the Odeon had promisedme free beer. That was all that mattered to me. Iordered a Pabst. The bartender told me that Ididn’t have to drink Pabst. That any of theirdraft beers would be free. I stuck with Pabst,though, because it was the cheapest beer on tap.With the night I planned on having, I figured I’dbankrupt the bar if I drank anything more expen-sive.

About two Pabsts later, people started tofill up the Odeon. It was around nine-thirty atnight. The show was supposed to start at ten.People were coming in early and paying fivebucks a head to hear three unknown, out-of-town guys tell stories. Everything started to feelstrange to me.

On the third Pabst, Retodd told a storyabout an Ohio farmer who set the land speedrecord. Somehow, according to Retodd’s story(which later became his column in Razorcake#6) this Ohio farmer and his land speed recordjustified Retodd’s enthusiasm for punk rock.The crowd at the Odeon seemed to understandthis. Everywhere I looked, people seemed to bepaying attention. They were even smiling andnodding.

On the fourth Pabst, I stood on the littlestage in front of the bar and told my boxingstory again. I knew the story so well by this timethat telling it made me feel like I was re-livingit. I even rolled around to one joke in the storythat had bombed every single night on the tour,yet somehow, on this night, the crowd got it andlaughed. Woo-hoo.

The fifth Pabst brought on Rich Mackin.As Rich started to read his letters, I set up themerch table. Once everything was set up, Ikicked back to listen to Rich. Day ten of the tourand Rich’s letters were still funny. And this time,there was something to make them funnier. Itwas the woman who sat a few tables over to myright. That woman became an echo for Rich’spunch lines. Whenever Rich said anythingfunny, that woman would repeat it, then breakout in the one of the loudest, most infectuouslaughs I’d ever heard. Halfway throught Rich’sset, I couldn’t tell if I was laughing because Richwas making me laugh or because that woman

was making me laugh. By the end of Rich’s set,I felt like I could go to a funeral with thatwoman and she’d make me laugh.

She came up to the merch table during theseventh Pabst. I told her, “We should take youon tour with us. You could be like our EdMcMahon.”

She smiled. “You could hear me laughing?”I nodded and didn’t say what I was think-

ing, which was, lady, the people in Oaklandcould hear you laughing.

After Rich’s set, a local San Francisco DJnamed Marlene played some records – theBuzzcocks, Stiff Little Fingers, the Vibrators,the Ramones, and a bunch of newer stuff. It waslike punk rock radio in a perfect world. The barstayed crowded for a while. A few people cameup to the merch table and bought books andchatted with me. I also had a lot of time to drinkan eighth Pabst and think about my little tour,which had officially ended that night. I leanedback in my chair and gazed across that dark barand felt a little better – not because people hadbought stuff and laughed and had a good time.Don’t get me wrong. That did make me feelgood, just as the a capella guy who assed me outof my turn in San Diego had made me feel bad.But little things like that don’t really tend to con-trol my moods much. The real reason I felt bet-ter had more to do with another thought that hadcome to me in the eighth Pabst. I realized that Iwasn’t trying to reinvent the wheel and thatreading or spoken word or speaking toursweren’t something new. I wasn’t trying to thrustanything on anyone. In fact, Rich and Retoddand I were just three more in a long line of writ-ers who took their stories on the road. A hundredand fifty years ago, Charles Dickens had cometo the US. He came to San Francisco and readstories about being a poor kid growing up inLondon. A hundred years ago, Emma Goldmancame to San Francisco. She read her essays to

five thousand people and inspired half the SFpolice force to camp outside the lecture hall,waiting for a reason to arrest her. Fifty yearsago, writers from all over the US converged onSan Francisco and, out of little bars like the oneI was in, those writers gave a face and a voice toa vital new literary movement. And now, Rich,Retodd, and I came to San Francisco, and, ifnothing more, we gave forty-five to fifty peoplea reason to turn off the TV and have fun at theOdeon for a night.

DJ Marlene played Jawbreaker’s“Condition Oakland.” The song rolled aroundto the part where it samples Jack Kerouac read-ing passages from “October in the RailroadEarth”: but it was that beautiful cut of clouds Icould always see about the little S.P. alley, puffsfloating by from Oakland or the Gate of Marin…I’ve listened to that song hundreds of times, andI even have the Kerouac album where he readsthat passage. Listening to it made me feel athome. I thought about San Francisco and thelast spoken word show. I thought about JackKerouac and the beats and their shows aroundSan Francisco. I thought of writers like JackLondon and Richard Brautigan and DashiellHammett who were from that area or who wrotea lot of their best work while living in that area,among the factories and train tracks and hillsand bridges and bays that surrounded me. Isomehow felt a very real connection with thosewriters – and not just because I rip them offevery time I write. I felt like, in a very small wayand without anyone noticing, I’d been able totap into that tradition and feed off of it a littlebit. That feeling made everything worth it.–Sean Carswell

(Sean and Rich are back on tour now. See the adon page 104 to find out when they’re goingto be in a town near you.)

23

Storytime for Deviants by Art Fuentes

Dale: All right, what I want to know is, whostarted this band?Scotty: Me, Bob, and Suzy.Dale: Was that when you were sharing thelockout with Calavera? Bob: Yeah! Calavera!Scotty: No, actually it was with Savage’sband, Pygmy Love Circus.Dale: And that was…Bob: Three years ago.Dale: As far as adding and subtracting yourband members since then… let’s see… Scotty,you were obviously in Verbal Abuse. Whoelse were you with?Scotty: Ahhh, Condemned to Death andElectric Frankenstein.Dale: And Bob? Would you like to share withthe little children who you’ve been with?[laughter]Bob: Blount!Dale: Mark C. Nical? Would you like to sharein regards with the bands you’ve been in?Mark C: Not really, but I will, just becauseit’s you. Dale: Thank you. Humor me.Mark C: Ahhh, in chronological order –Legion of Doom, Ratpack, The Living End…and currently – Cynical and Hollywood Hate.Dale: And the HoCakes?Mark H: Okay… Poor Kids On Glue,Shocking Truth, Cynical, and this one.Dale: And Suzy, I saved you for last, becauseeveryone in LA knows that Suzy’s played…Mark C: She has the longest roster!Dale: Yeah, but besides Sean (Sean “BigBaby” Antillon), she’s drummed for aboutevery band in LA. Who were some of yourfavorites, Suzy?Suzy: Ummm, can you guys help me? ‘CauseI can’t remember…Mark C: Total Chowse! (Total Chaos)[laughter]Scotty: Total Chowse, Nina Hagen, UXA…Suzy: Snap-Her, Last Round Up,Monoshocks, Lisafer…Dale: Why should other people, young andold alike, come to see you? Now, I know whyI come to see you guys – I’ve had the advan-tage of hearing you in practice and catchingshows. But why should kids in Bumfuck,Kansas come and see you?Scotty: Because I think kids in Bumfuck,Kansas are pissed off. And we are the bestbackground music for it.Suzy: They gotta get out aggression. And theydo it by listening to our…Mark H: What else is there in Kansas?Besides…Dale: Kansas meaning anyone, anywhere –generally why should anyone come to seeyou?Mark C: They need to suffer.Dale: Because, Mark, do you care about what

the kids think?Mark C: FUCK, NO!Mark H: We’re just trying to spread the hate.Scotty: [cracking a grin] We haven’t evendone an all-ages show yet, so how the fuckcan we say what the kids think? [laughter] Iknow what the big kids think. They wanna getliquored, and they like getting pissed off,too… beatin’ people up, ya know? Tooth-chippin’ music – it’s good.Dale: There ya go – tooth-chippin’ music.Mark H: Bob’s pretty sexy when he playslive.Dale: You mean The Penetrator? Bob –what’s up with that name, The Penetrator?Without sodomizing me, can you explain thename, The Penetrator?Bob: If you ever date eighteen-year-olds…then… you’re… fuck, what the fuck youwant?Scotty: Let him think about the question![laughter]Mark C: Hey – you’re gonna have to editthis! [laughter]Dale: And Mark – Dirty Ho – where did thatcome from?Mark H: Dirty Ho? Ahhh… uhhh…Dale: Keep drinking, Mark. [HoCakes smil-ing, raises his glass to me]Mark C: His name and number’s all over theSouth Bay.Dale: Are you claiming the Pedro?Mark H: [effecting a rapper voice] WestSiiide!Dale: Are you backing Pedro? This is for ToysThat Kill.Mark H: I migrated a little. I’m in RedondoBeach, now.Dale: But you’re representing?Mark H: Always representing.Dale: Out of the five members in HollywoodHate, I’ve noticed that 3/5 of the band are DogPatch Winos. Does this make anyone ner-vous? Suzy?Suzy: [smiling] No!Scotty: [laughing] She lives with the fuckin’Winos! Dale: Trick question!Mark H: I have my application in. Pending.Dale: Scotty, what evolved into HollywoodHate? What made you start up the band withBob and Suzy?Scotty: We’re tired of seeing bad bands.Dale: Are you generalizing LA or just every-where?Scotty: Everywhere. From fuckin’ coast tocoast.Dale: [smirking] Name some please.Scotty: There’s a lot of ‘em! So fuckin’ many,I can’t even name ‘em. Honest to God’s truth.And just nothing was movin’ me. I don’t likepop music, so I’m not gonna… ya know…I’m pissed.

It’s a pretty rare find these days todiscover a band that can rock yourass off as powerfully and strongly astheir own personal beliefs and con-victions, but it’s even rarer to find aband of the like kicking around theLos Angeles area. Enter HollywoodHate, the five-piece band of well-sea-soned, veteran punk rock fucker-uppers, all who have paid more thantheir fair share of dues in this dirtybusiness called rock’n’roll. When theycome to play, they come to FUCKINGPLAY. Hollywood Hate strictlyenforces the no-bullshit policybecause everyone’s on the samelevel. Example: they’d just as wellhook up a gig with any willing bandthat would have ‘em as they’d tellanother band to get fucked becauseof some jive like, “It’s nothing per-sonal, but we can’t do a show withyou.” Each member here is mightyproud of their own past and presentendeavors, good and bad, and theymake absolutely no apologies aboutit. And they can be pretty fuckingfunny, to boot. Very rare, indeed…

HOLLYWOOD HATE IS:Scotty: lead vocalsBob “The Penetrator” Peterson: gui-tar, pickslides, and assorted adultentertainmentMark C. Nical /a.k.a. “Sunshine &Sassy”: lead guitarMark Ho /a.k.a Dirty Ho/a.k.a.HoCakes: bass guitar from hell Suzy Homewrecker: Drums

Interview and photos by DesignatedDale24

I’m Against ItI’m Against It,

Dale: Mark, would you agree? Are you pissed?Just like your singer Scotty over here?Mark C: Yes.Dale: And what would your two favorite fingersbe?Scotty: [grinning evilly] Fuck you.Mark C: Fuck you. Kill yourself. Die, filth.Scotty: Cut your scrotum with fishing knives…Dale: Is that why they call him (Mark C) sun-shine, Scotty?Scotty: [with lisp] Sunshine and sassy! [laugh-ter]Dale: Are you really that sassy, Mark? As peo-ple think? [laughter]Mark H: [laughing] I just try to blend in, that’sall! Bob: LARGE AND IN CHARGE!!!Dale: Bob! Scotty’s telling me that you’ve beenwinning the hearts of young punk rock womenon the internet! Explain?Bob: I offer them lots of…Scotty: He’s the Penetrataaaaah!Bob: I write them bad checks and they love me.Dale: In LA, what pisses you off the most? Thepromoters or the bands that clique together toget shows?Scotty: [smiling] Oh, so this is the questionthat’s the death of me, right?Dale: I’m not gonna give a fuck, ‘cause I feelthe same way!Scotty: All of it. All of the above. You’re gettin’frustrated with it, you just fuckin’ pick it up, doit yourself, man. Why the fuck are we out inCorona? Because fuckin’ LA ain’t happenin’.There’s really nowhere to play in LA. You haveto be in this little circle and we’re not in a littlecircle, so…Dale: So you’re saying even bands that youguys are friends with – it’s even hard to hook upshows with those guys anymore?Scotty: Totally. But the weird thing is they allcome and they see us and they like it, but thenthat’s, you know…Dale: So they gotta be won over with the truth,basically?Scotty: Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck… Isay fire ‘em all! And that’s what we do.Dale: That’s Mark’s line, isn’t it, Mark?Mark C: Yeah! Fire ‘em all! Fuckin’ sign it up!

Dale: Okay, far as recording the full length, howdid last weekend go? It didn’t happen?Suzy: We’re gonna record on the 13th and the14th (April) and finish the CD…Bob: He (their producer) had problems with hisboard. Some technical problems at the studio.Dale: [ribbing Bob] Are you making excusesbecause of your ineptness to play, Bob?Bob: [pointing to Mark C] Are you kidding me?He’s playing all my parts! Fuck! [laughter] Ain’tplaying shit on the record! C’mon! I want it tosound good! [laughter]Scotty: Bob’s a live man, that’s it.Dale: Bob are you live? Are you like FramptonComes Alive?Bob: I’m not a musician. I just play one onstage.Mark C: Bob Comes On Your Face.Dale: As far as doing this record, what are youlookin’ to do? Support tour?Scotty: The record? Just do it. Look, we do thefuckin band because we do what we do and wethink we do it good. No expectations, no disap-pointments. That’s all there is to it. So, we do analbum, we’re happy with it, that’s all that mat-ters. We put it out ourselves…Dale: So, basically, you do it all yourselves andif you make yourselves happy, fuck everybodyelse?Scotty: I ain’t waiting for anybody else. Theycan all piss off, but then you never know whocomes along and says, “Hey, I kinda like thatshit!” and then we’d sit down and we’d talk…Dale: Like tonight at the show. You wouldn’texpect that the big, burly drywaller was gonnaknock the cholo biker on his ass while you wereplaying.Scotty: [laughing] No! I wasn’t!Bob: I egged him on!Dale: You egged him on, didn’tyou Bob the Penetrator!Bob: [snickering proudly] Yeah, Idid!Dale: Speaking of recordings,Scotty, are you and Mark C. Nicaltentatively planning on puttingout some re-releases?Scotty: Of our old bands?Probably put out a bunch ofVerbal Abuse together. None ofit’s ever been out on CD, I don’tthink. Dale: So this is unreleased stuffof Verbal Abuse that you record-ed with them at the time? Not theoriginal lineup?Scotty: Which is basically theoriginal lineup minus NikkiSikki.Bob: (rudely, as usual) I play aLes Paul!Dale: How high did you jumptonight, Bob?Bob: Dude!Dale: Did you make Face to Facelook like shit on a shingletonight?Bob: They’re fags! [laughter]Dale: And that is being printed bythe way!Bob: Good!Dale: You’re laughing,HoCakes…Mark H: I just wanna thank allthe tweakers that came out toCorona tonight. Primarily come

here and still trying to score.Dale: Are you going bonkers for honkers?Mark H: [smiling] No comment. [laughter]Bob: I’ve been honker-free for…Mark H: Two WEEKS!Bob: Two months! God it’s been a while…Mark C: Not by choice!Bob: [smoking] I’ve been sick! The emphysemaand my tuberculosis is kicking in…Dale: As you’re smoking your cigarette?Bob: I’m down to two packs a day! Dale: And you have to put up with all this, don’tyou, Scotty?Scotty: [laughing] Everyday. It’s beautiful!Dale: Who would be some of your ideal bandsto support? Mark H: We could go out with PaulMcCartney!Dale: You’re after his tight, English ass, isn’tthat right, HoCakes?Mark H: Nah, I’d bang his dead wife. I’ll skullfuck her.Scotty: Oh, you know what? We wanna playwith Psychopunch…Bob: Psychopunch and The Backyard Babies…Scotty: Yeah, we need to go to Sweden.Sweden’s jumping off right now. I don’t knowwho the fuck to play with. Just whoever calls up.“Yeah, fuck it, we’ll play with you.” The wholething behind the band is no expectations, no dis-appointments, let’s just play. That’s why youhave a band – to play. So call us up, we’llfuckin’ do it with ya!Dale: Here’s a question for all of you. For thepeople who don’t even know what

I think kids in Bumfuck, Kansas are pissed off.

And we are the best background music for it.

you sound like, what would yousay influences each of you inHollywood Hate?Mark H: I’d say ‘80s hardcore.Punk/hardcore.Mark C: I would just say it soundsMEAN.Suzy: Um, I think it’s hardcore.Bob: Kinda like a cross betweenGuns ’N Roses and Culture Club.[laughter]Dale: Now which one would beBoy George? Would that be you,Penetrator?Bob: Hey, I ain’t sayin’! I mightlook good in a dress, I don’t know.Dale: Scotty, who and what bandsinfluence the band the most?Doesn’t necessarily have to bemusicians.Scotty: Now, a big influence on uswould obviously be, like,Motorhead. There’s Ramonesinfluences, Black Flag influences.All the shit we grew up on –Adolescents influence us – doesn’tnecessarily mean that we soundlike that, per se, but it all influencesus. In other words, we’re trying to bring back…it’s just hard rock, is what it is.Dale: More of a presence than a sound then?Scotty: Yeah, yeah. I mean, the same way BlackFlag was – kinda like in-your-face type shit. It’slike the early ‘80s punk stuff, you know what Imean? With a rock edge to it. A heavy, hardrock. Not metal.Dale: And not afraid to use lead guitars.Scotty: Exactly.Dale: There’s nothing wrong with that.Scotty: Absolutely not! If you can play ‘em, do‘em!Dale: Right! Look at most of the late ‘70s punkbands that had lead guitar players (with the rareand probably ONLY exception being theRamones). I mean, in just LA alone – TheControllers, The Gears, The Plugz… This is forall of you – recapping on my earlier question –if and when you do tour, or if people get thechance, what’s the one reason why peopleshould come out to see Hollywood Hate?Bob: You know why? We’re gonna put all intoit. We’re gonna put everything into the show.That’s all there is to it. We’re gonna jumparound; we’re gonna sweat – and that’s it. See, ifthey wanna be entertained, they come to see me. Dale: The Penetrator has spoken!Bob: [dancing wildly, like a frickin’ go-godancer] Can you translate my dance, too?Dale: I’ll put that in, Bob – you’re dancing likea wild motherfucker. That ain’t no dirty dancing,either! Suzy?Suzy: I guess what Bob said. We give 100%, a101% every time.Dale: I’ll agree with that. Far as live, you guysdon’t fuck around. Mark?Mark C: Because people pay a lot more to seea lot worse bands ALL the time. [laughter]Dale: I couldn’t have said it better myself, actu-ally. HoCakes?Mark H: The Penetrator!Dale: Hey, Bob just ain’t the band here! C’mon!It’s gotta be something more than Bob…Mark H: It’s his fuck faces that he makes whenhe plays! Imagine if you’re the female lookingat that face when he’s fucking you?! [laughter]Dale: Thank you. Now I am going to vomit.

Scotty?Scotty: Ditto what Mark C. said and also… it’sjust… you need to see good rock now. Wake upand come see us. You’ll see when you come tothe show, guaranteed. You will not be disap-pointed, guaranteed. That’s all I gotta say.Dale: One more question to go around, and youcan go fuck off – if there’s one thing you couldchange in LA, what would it be?Bob: OOOH!!! Homeless people asking me forfuckin’ money! Fuckin’ ship out the homeless!Mark C: Traffic. HBI.Suzy: One thing I’d like to change… more all-ages clubs with, um…Bob: Underage girls! [laughter] I want underagegirls at all the shows!Suzy: …with less crooked promoters!Dale: Scotty?Scotty: Everything. Everything needs to change

quick. This city’s gonna self-destruct again, worse than 1992.You know what? Attitude. Attitudeneeds to change. Overall attitude oneverything. LA’s got so glamorized,but right now, it’s the most shittycity there is. I lived in New York,San Francisco – LA’s probably themost dangerous place in the fuckin’world to be, now. New York is tamecompared to LA, now. You get shotfor wearin’ purple fuckin’ shoelacesin this fuckin’ shithole by a ten-yearold fuckin’ kid.Suzy: That’s why we call our bandHollywood Hate.Dale: Thank you! Suzy read mymind! Where did the name comefrom?Scotty: The name came becauseit’s… Hollywood’s like this “glam-orous, bitchin’ place,” and I ranaround in Hollywood in the veryearly ‘80s, and shit like that. It’s nota glamorous place – it’s a fucked upplace. The only time it gets glam-orous is for five days during theOscars, after they ship everybody

in jail. This place is a shithole. And they justneed to come clean and say it’s a shithole. Andwe like it as a shithole, so they need to quit pret-tying it up – it’s a fucking piece of shit. And wefigure if we put “Hollywood Hate” instead of“Hollywood Beautiful” people will know thatit’s a shithole. We are the shithole. We are thereal shithole…Dale: Well, you’re proud of that shithole!Scotty: [beaming proudly] Damn fuckingstraight!Dale: It’s part of the shithole you helped build!Scotty: That’s right! It seemed like when it wasa shithole, everybody was cool to everybody.Now that it’s not a shithole, everybody hateseverybody.Dale: Turned into a violent attitude.Scotty: That’s all it is. And the cops ain’t no bet-ter than fuckin’ anybody else with a mother-fuckin’ gun.Dale: What was that story you told me a longwhile back, Mark? About that guy who came outhere to LA to work for GIT? (Guitar Institute ofTechnology) What did he end up doing? FixingVCRs or something?Mark C: They stuck him in a closet with abunch of Betamaxs and a screwdriver.Dale: So that’s what happens when you get on abus and come to Hollywood with a bunch ofdreams?Mark C: Yeah. His name was Derwood. He wasfrom Iowa. [laughter]Dale: In closing, so you guys can go drink, whatwould you say to anybody who has even aninkling of coming to Los Angeles?Mark C: Kill yourself!Scotty: Pick a different city.Bob: Bring your Mom and credit card! [laugh-ter]Suzy: Umm, get a handgun.Mark H: First of all, Scotty and Suzy don’tdrink. And, uh, Go Raiders.

CONTACT HOLLYWOOD HATE :

www.hollywoodhate.com* O R *pensacolabob@yahoo.com 27

The Beltones are:Bill McFadden: vocals, guitarRob Sessions: guitarMike Mutti: bassWill Thomas: drums

Sean: You guys started in 1994, right?Bill: Yeah. Me and this guy. [points to Rob]Sean: I saw you guys in 2000 at DIYRecords in Orlando, and you still didn’thave enough material to play a thirty minuteset. Why is that?Rob: Because I’m lazy.Bill: No. It was just one goddamn thingafter another. A lot of member changes,

bullshit, and so on and so

forth. Where we’re at right now, we’re actu-ally a band. Before, we were just bullshit-ting around. Having fun on the weekends.We tried to get people to be down and topractice and all that shit you have to dowhen you’re in a fucking band, but… Rob: We had a bunch of people whoweren’t really into it. Bill: Now we’ve got people with us who areinto it. It’s funny. It really sucks because wefinally got together with some people whowere really cool and, as soon as we goteverything settled as a band, we got in thatvan wreck thing. All our equipment in thevan got destroyed.Sean: What was “that van wreck thing”?

Bill: Jesus Christ. It’s gnarly. Basically, weavoided being dead by about fifteen sec-onds. And the whole van, everything in it,all our equipment and merchandise wasdestroyed. Seven cars hit it. We somehowemerged unscathed. But all our stuff, every-thing… You know, none of us come frommoney. We’ve all worked hard to get theequipment we have. We like good things.We like Gibson guitars and Marshall ampli-fiers. We worked our balls off to get thatstuff and, splat, all over the road.Everything destroyed.

I can bitch about it for hours andhours, but I feel bad because somebody diedthat night. And it’s like, yeah whatever, we

I was stoked to see the Beltones at theTroubadour recently. I’d seen them before.They’re from Florida and I used to live inFlorida, so it wasn’t all that unusual to catch aBeltones show. I got a little used to the weirdphenomenon wherein they’d play a twentyminute set, then stop. The crowd would screamfor more. The Beltones would scratch theirheads for a second, then start their set all overagain, playing the exact same songs.

Things have changed since then. Theywrote a bunch of new songs and released theirfirst full-length album, Cheap Trinkets (on TKORecords), which meant they’d finally haveenough material to play a full set. And that’swhy I was stoked.

The Beltones opened up for Youth Brigadeand Slaughter and the Dogs. The Troubadourgave them thirty minutes – typical for an open-ing band. The Beltones ripped through it, mix-ing up songs from both their now-legendary On

Deaf Ears EP and songs from Cheap Trinkets.They tore it up. Will Thomas attacked his drumset, pounding his sticks into splinters. Thestage shook from all the jumping around Rob,Bill, and Mike did. And the crowd went nuts. Iwas standing right next to the speaker whenthe Beltones wrapped up their set with “FuckYou, Anyway” and I couldn’t hear Bill sing thechorus because everyone around me wasscreaming along so loudly. When that songended, the crowd demanded more so forcefullyand so belligerently that Youth Brigade waitedto take the stage, the sound man turned off thehouse music, and the Beltones blasted through“Let the Bombs Fall.”

I couldn’t believe it: the second band ona four band bill – three thousand miles awayfrom home – got an encore like that. I’d neverseen anything like it. I had my tape recorderwith me and an interview set up already. And Iknew I was doing the right thing.

Interview by Sean Carswell

Photos by Retodd

28

bought things and they were destroyed, butsomebody lost their life. And that’s hard.Rob: I almost saw my best friend here [patsBill on the back] die that night. He barelyescaped that shit.Bill: Yeah, I thought Rob was dead. I’mfucking yelling into this black, empty van.It’s flipped over and everybody who I loveis in there. These are my best friends, you

know.Sean: Well, how did you get out so quick-ly?Bill: I was already halfway out. The moth-erfucker got hit by a car and it spun around.I was sitting in the front seat. I had no seat-belt on. And when the van flipped over, Ipopped out the windshield. For some rea-son, my legs decided they’d grip on whatev-er they could. I was hanging out the wind-shield while the van was dragging on itsroof. So, yeah, I had no problem getting out.[laughs]

But I’m looking in the van and threeof my best friends were in the back seat andI don’t know where they are. It’s all pitchblack. And I’m freaking the fuck out. Thatwas the scariest thing to me. Honestly. I’vealways thought that death would be reallyscary. But my own death, I acknowledge it.I was like, all right, I’m dead. When thefucker starts spinning around like that, I’mlike, all right, I’m done with. But myfriends. To not know what happened tothem and it was black and I couldn’t seewhat was going on. That was the mostfrightening thing.Sean: [to Rob] How tough was it for you toget out of the van?Rob: Me, Mike, and Will were sleeping inthe back seat. I woke up with Bill scream-ing, “Oh fuck.” I wake up and the car hitsus and we hit the guardrail and flip upsidedown. I was sitting right by the door, so Ipopped the door open and crawled down.We’re like, “Where’s Mike? Where’sWill?”Bill: I turned into a fucking drill sergeant. Iwas like, “Where the hell are you guys? Getthe fuck out of the van. Get on the otherside of the guardrail.” And ten or fifteenseconds after everybody pulled out, thissemi truck comes along and clips the vaninto the left lane and bam bam bam bam.Rob: Smashes everything.Bill: All the shit, man, it was fucking…

[long pause] If it wasn’t for all the destruc-tion and death, it would’ve been the coolestfucking thing. The whole fucking in thingwas pretty gnarly. It was like, man, this is acool roller coaster. When I busted throughthe windshield and the wind was blowingon me, honestly, I know it sounds prettysick, but it was fucking cool, man.Rob: The only injury I had was losing my

voice from screaming so loud.Bill: And I watched this truck come and runover my guitar. I went and pulled it and itwas just, fucking, nothing.Sean: Wow. That sucks. I won’t make youtalk about the van wreck any more. Youguys grew up in Ft. Lauderdale, right?Rob: That’s where we met, yeah.Sean: What was it like growing up there?Bill: Nothing. You go around the countryand you see that there are things going on,but no one ever came down to our area. Idon’t know what it’s like now because Ihaven’t been there in a while, but when Iwas a kid, it was one of the most violentplaces I’ve ever seen.Sean: How so?Bill: Violent. Fucking gun fights and stuff.Rob: People showing up to shows, and it’slike, beyond fists. The guys carry guns andshit.Bill: Everybody. All my friends.Everybody.Sean: In Ft. Lauderdale?Rob: We’re only a half hour from Miami.That’s where we’d go to shows.Bill: Ft. Lauderdale’s worse.Rob: Yeah, and West Palm Beach, youwouldn’t think so, but there’s a bunch ofmeatheads up there.Bill: I grew up as a little skinhead, andsouth Florida, particularly Ft. Lauderdale, isone of the gnarliest goddamn places you’llever fucking find.Rob: People think it’s all palm trees andspring break.Bill: And it’s funny because I’m so desensi-tized because people think things are violentand they think things are bad, and I’m like,really? I’m used to thinking, it’s Tuesday,has someone I know been shot? Seriously.It was that bad. I don’t know what it’s likenow.Mike: It’s lamer. There’s nothing going ondown there now. There’s no bands. There’sno scene. There’s nothing.

Bill: It used to be cool because no one evercame down. It’s really out of your way tocome down, so we had this really tight, self-absorbed, shitty scene. It’s funny becausewe go out and play now, and people arereally shocked that we’re not fromCalifornia. I don’t know what the fuckthey’re talking about. People are like, “Ithought you guys were from San Franciscobecause you have that sound.” I’m like,“Dude, you have no idea what you’re talk-ing about.” It was all about me and Rob,who were the two guys in Ft. Lauderdalewho were into Stiff Little Fingers and theVibrators. We would hang out and drinkand be like, “These bands that play aroundhere suck. How about we start a band?”

Rob: “Let’s quit the shitty bandswe’re in now and start our ownband.”Bill: That’s basically how westarted. Because, at that time,music was all the Less-Than-Jakey-ska thing. That was the fla-

vor of the month. That and Weasel rip-offbullshit.Sean: What about Far Out Records (a now-defunct Ft. Lauderdale record label. Far Outreleased the first stuff by the Beltones andAgainst All Authority)? What happened tothem?Bill: I can’t explain what happened to them.Rob: He was a friend of ours. He put outour seven inch. Things didn’t go exactly asplanned.Bill: Say what you will, but that guy wastotally rad. The first time he heard any shitthat we did, he said, “Jesus Christ, let meput out a seven inch for you guys.” Over theyears, people have asked us, “How did youget on this? How did you get on that?” Theanswer is, we didn’t do shit. We just playedand people were like, “Hey, you want me tomake records for you?” “Yeah, sure.”Whatever. We’re just fucking bums.Rob: [in a cartoonish slur] “You’ll make arecord? What’s that?”Bill: We go out and we play shit and we getdrunk and if somebody likes it, great.

But Far Out Records was a fantasticfucking idea [laughs]. I remember when Ilived in south Florida, this one time – I wasworking at a record store – and this personcalled up and said, “I work at this distribu-tion company and we’re really trying to getahold of Far Out because we want to buysome Against All Authority records and wecan’t get ahold of Far Out.” So they had justlooked in the phone book for any recordstore in Ft. Lauderdale. It was that bad. ButTim (the guy who owned Far Out Records)is a sweetheart. He’s a cool guy. But Ialways figured he could do more. I figured,he doesn’t have a job. He’s got nothing todo. This seven inch will work out, right?Sean: What happened to your first drummer(Kevin Crook)?Rob: [groans] Bill will field that one.Bill: That was entirely too much incestuousshit going on. He was good

It was like, man, this is a cool roller coaster. When I bustedthrough the windshield and the wind was blowing on me, honestly,I know it sounds pretty sick, but it was fucking cool, man

If it wasn’t for all the destruction and death,

it would’ve been the coolest fucking thing...

29

shit, you know. When me and Rob decidedwe wanted to start a band, he’d neverplayed drums in his life. He was my girl-friend’s little brother, and he’s like, “I’llplay drums.” And we’re like, laughing. Andhe goes and gets a set of drums and startsplaying and we’re like, oh, maybe this willwork… I don’t know. It was really just a lotof tension, mostly due to the whole thingwith his sister being my girlfriend. Therewas a lot of crap.Sean: Is it true that Paddy from DillingerFour was in your band for about ten min-utes?Bill: [laughs] Paddy is always in our band.Paddy’s the fucking man. Unfortunately forhim, he got stuck in Gainesville for entirelytoo long, but I’ll tell you about Paddy: I’venever seen anyone who would order a pizza,cover it with chili and cut up hot dogs. Thatmotherfucker is the man. Paddy is the man.He is the fucking king.Sean: Let me ask you a couple of questionsabout songs. On Cheap Trinkets, the song,“Ain’t No Life,” it’s basically about a guygoing to a bar and getting in a fight and get-ting arrested, right?Bill: It’s kind of about me getting a DUI.Sean: What’s the whole story?Bill: Oh, Christ. My mom died of cancerand I had a little period when I was com-pletely insane. One night I went out and gotshitfaced. In Florida, it’s a lot like LA. It’sfar to drive to go someplace. And I’d justbought this new Plymouth. ’66 Belvedere.That motherfucker could go. And I went tomy favorite bar in the world. This placeDeuce. They got the best jukebox. I gotliquored up. I remember looking down atmy hands and seeing three whiskey sours,and they’re all for me. The next thing Iremember is the cop’s light in my face.And, you know, it ain’t cool driving drunklike that. He fucking clocked me at a buck-twenty going down the highway. ‘Cause I

was wanting to get home, you

know. But that’s what the song’s about.Sean: Well, the song “Let the Bombs Fall”(off On Deaf Ears) is about your momdying. I don’t want to get all BarbaraWalters on you, but is it tough playing thatsong night after night, or does it help you?Bill: It can get tough. Because it’s real.Every little thing. Every stupid word inthere is real. It can hurt sometimes. But,fucking whatever. People love it. And thatkills it. I’m not gonna get sad when every-one’s happy and down to see us play it. It’skinda risky sometimes, throwing your ballsout on the table, like, “Here. Here’s mywhole life.” But it works out. Whatever.That’s the only song that has people comingup to me and telling me about shit that’shappened to them that’s really fucked upinvolving family and stuff. And my songmeans something to them. And that’s whatmeans something to me: playing music thatmeans something to someone else. That’sfucking important. It makes it worth it todump my heart out.Sean: Then the other Barbara Walters ques-tion: the song “My Old Man” is about yourdad, right? Is he really a drunk?Bill: I haven’t seen him since I was sixteenyears-old. And… uh… that’s a rough one.That’s harder, I think.Sean: You don’t have to answer it.Bill: Yeah, that’s a tough one. He’s my dad,you know. A lot of hard shit going on withthat thing.Sean: I’ll just ask something else. On thatfirst album, you have three or four songsabout naming your bullets or wanting tostart shooting people or leaving everyoneblack and blue. How close have you reallycome? You ever actually named a bullet?Bill: Well, you know, the point of thosesongs: “Fuck You, Anyway,” “Naming MyBullets,” all those songs. It’s when thingspiss you off to the brink of something, butthere’s something that will keep you fromgoing over the edge. I guess those songs

work in the way that, there’s always thingsthat piss you off, but there’s always thingsthat make your life worthwhile. Yourfriends and stuff like that. Sure you mightslip, but everything’s good, you know.Sean: The song “Casualty” (which is abouta coke addict), is that about a real person?Bill: Yeah, it is. And the actual person it’sabout really wasn’t that much of a fuck up. Ithought they were, but they weren’t. Butthere are a lot of friends of mine whocould’ve had that song written for them. Imean, drugs are drugs and things are thingsand people do whatever they do, but somepeople just take shit and live for it. Takeweed. It’s the most benign substance youcan think of. Drinking is so much worsethan smoking pot. But there’s still peoplewho are like, “Yeah man, fucking smoke it,dude?” It’s like, “What the fuck are youtalking about? Shut the fuck up.” Andfriends of mine doing heroin and dying andstuff. That hurts. I’ve had friends who werereally sweet people. Really good people.And died, just from doing drugs. But every-one has that shit in their lives. It ain’t justme. I ain’t special.Sean: Cheap Trinkets has a lot more songsabout women. Why is that?Bill: Basically, just because, I was with thesame girl for about eight years and I brokeup with her. It opens up the floodgates tosongs about women. I’m married now, sothe next record will be about tractors orsomething. I’ve got the sweetest goddamnwife you ever saw. I ain’t writing any moresongs bitching about chicks. Fuck that.Sean: What’s your day job?Bill: I’m a cook. We’re all cooks.Sean: Does the song “Garbage Picker”come from that?Bill: A lot of songs aren’t about what youthink they’re about. That song’s actuallyabout a girl.Sean: Can you explain that?Bill: It’s kinda rough. Do I want to spell30

It’s kinda risky sometimes, th rowing your

b alls out on the ta ble, like,

“Here. Here’s my whole l i fe .”But it works out.

that out? I think I want to keep that in my pocket. That isactually about a girl. It’s not about work. But we all goddamncook ‘cause there ain’t nothing else for us to do.Sean: I can hear where the Stiff Little Fingers come from inyour music. We already talked about that. But where did therockabilly influence come from in Cheap Trinkets? You havea little tinge of it.Rob: All we are is rock and roll. It didn’t even occur to me.Bill: The thing is, with this record, we’re playing what wewant to play. We actually have a band that can play. We havea drummer who can fucking move. Now we get to do whatev-er we want.Sean: Will (the drummer) started off as your bassist, too,right? How did that happen?Bill: That was really funny. Rob and I moved to Gainesvilleand we didn’t have a bass player. We met Will at a party onetime. Our old drummer was on a roof, funnelling beers topeople, screaming, “Col-lege.” We met Will there and startedtalking and, for some reason, he’s like, “I’ll play bass for youguys.” And he’d never played bass. He had no idea what thefuck playing bass was. And he played bass for us. ThenKevin quit and Will took over on drums. That’s it. Seriously,that guy is an amazing drummer. It ain’t flashy, but it’s fuck-ing sweet. And now we’re a band. Because of that.Rob: We feel good about the line-up as it is now.Mike: Except for the new bass player. That guy’s got a prob-lem.Rob: Yeah, after this tour, we gotta change.Bill: [to Mike] You’ve been playing for a while. You’realmost out of “new guy” category.Mike: It’s been two years.Rob: Mike played in a band called the Breaks in Florida…Bill: A fucking amazing band.Rob: But he lost the band…Mike: Same kind of shit. Rock and roll influenced punk rock.Rob: Bill was like, “We need someone who can play basslike Mike.” Me and Mike were working together in a kitchenat the time. I was like, “We should just ask Mike to play forus. He plays just like Mike.”Mike: I remember I was riding my bike and my cell phonerang. I picked it up and it’s them asking me to join the band. Iwas like, “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve been beggingyou for two years to let me play bass for you fuckers.”Bill: We’re on now. We’reactually a band. We maderecords, blah, blah, blah.Whatever. But we’re actually aband now.Sean: Who’s the girl on thecover of the Shitty in Pink sin-gle?Mike: Married men can’t say.[laughs]Bill: My wife went to highschool with her, but, uh, any-one want to field this one forme?Mike: Okay. No comment.Next question.Rob: She’s a friend of oursfrom Gainesville. She’s an ex-girlfriend of Bill’s.Sean: Is she aware that her nip-ple’s visible in that picture?Rob: [laughs] Yeah, I saw thenipple, too.Bill: She saw the picture. She’saware.

The Adicts formed in the late ‘70s and were part of the nextwave of British pop punk. They enjoyed considerable successnot just at the beginning of their career but well into the‘80s and ‘90s as well, and they did on various independentlabels at a time when the majors were players in the punkrock racket . F rom “Bad Boy” to “V iva la Revo lut ion ,”“Chinese Takeway,” to “Joker in the Pack,” The Adicts writegreat songs that are as strange as their Droog get-up.

Nearly twenty-five years later, The Adicts are still goingstrong. They’re in great shape and although they’ve takentime off from time to time, they have never broken up.They’re the same blokes from Ipswich. The interview tookplace backstage at the Whiskey on a cold night in February. Iasked the questions, but it was Pete who ran the interview.Read on and you will be regaled with tales of sheepshagging,venereal disease, and pigeons that fly upside down. Theykept me on my toes, but it was more fun than, well, a barrel

of monkeys.

$: Who are you?Monkey: I’m Monkey. I don’t do much.Kid: I’m Kid. I hit the things. Pete: I’m Pete. I strum.Mel: I’m Mel. I twang.Scruff: I’m Scruff and I help him [points to Pete] out on guitar.$: Who lives in LA and who lives in England?Pete: Monkey lives in LA.$: That’s it?Mel: And Pete.Pete: I don’t live in LA. America is where I live. I don’t wish todivulge where I live. Because of the children.$: (trying, and failing, to be funny) The illegitimate children?Pete: (deadpan) Yes. Correct.$: Give me some reasons why LA is better than Ipswich.Pete: Mel doesn’t live in LA.Mel: Big plus.Pete: And I don’t live in Ipswich!Kid: The sun shines.Pete: That’s true, Kid. The sun does shine! What do you reckon,Mel?

Interview andphotos by

Money

32

Mel: Hmm.Pete: [laughs] I have a job.$: On the flipside, name some reasonswhy Ipswich is better than LA.Mel: Because it’s not fucking LA. That’sthe biggest bonus!Pete: Mel’s a true Ipswich boy.$: How so?Pete: Sheepshagger!Mel: There aren’t any sheep in Ipswich.Pete: I killed them all.Kid: Pete got fucking syphilis andshagged all the sheep.Pete: Pigeons fly upside down in Ipswich.(Although Pete’s comments may strikeyou, dear reader, as non sequiturs, there isusually, although not always, a context forhis remarks. The context however is miredin laughter and slang and familiarity offriendships spanning two continents andnearly three decades, which is impossibleto duplicate. That is, I have no idea whatthe fuck they’re saying, nor any clue as towhy Pete thinks pigeons fly upside downin Ipswich. Perhaps he is on medication.)$: What’s the extent of this tour?Monkey: Three more shows after tonight.$: At the Showcase Theater?Monkey: That’s right.Pete: We did the Tony Hawk show theother day, which was a huge honor for us.We were invited to play the twentiethanniversary of Tony being the king, basi-cally. And we’re his favorite band in theworld.$: Really?Monkey: Yeah.Pete: And it was a big surprise. It was fan-tastic. It’s going to be on “HollywoodExtra.” The clown prince of punk rockcrowns the king with four little wheels anda piece of plywood. We knighted him withan Adicts skateboard. (For pictures, go tothe Adicts home page atwww.suburbias.com.)$: Excellent. Pete: Quite a nice honor.$: So you’re avid skateboarding fans?Pete: Haven’t got a fucking clue! [laughs]When you think about it, it’s really cool.Punk rock was outlawed. Skateboardingwas outlawed. And we came together.Way before snowboards and chicks, mindyou. Chicks driving snowboards. Thatshows you what a male chauvinist bastardpig I am. $: Are you going to play Holidays in theSun?Monkey: We’re going to do someHolidays in the Sun shows and other festi-vals. Gig-wise, we don’t know. Mel: It’s pretty hard for us to get together. $: I would imagine. That must make it dif-ficult to rehearse.Pete: It’s easy.Kid: We were thinking about getting somekids to take our place.Pete: We’ve been together a long time.Fucking twenty-seven years.

Kid: Monkey came up with a great idea.We get four sixteen- or seventeen-year-oldboys. Dress them up. Teach them thesongs. And they can go out and play forus. The Adicts, Mark 2.$: Do you ever get tired of the greasepaint?Monkey: Not unless it messes the sheets.[laughs] I used to get tired of it. But Ihaven’t done it in so long the last coupledays haven’t been too much of a burden.$: How many sets of sheets have youruined?Monkey: Twenty-seven.$: A lot of bands cite you as an influ-ence…Pete: [to a pack of noisy randoms] Fuckoff out of the dressing room! Fuck off!You’re annoying me! Get out! [to me] Weinfluenced Ozzie. I don’t know how. Buthe wears Adicts shirts onstage all the time.Kid: And Tom Green’s a fan. Tom Greenplayed bass guitar and drums for TheAdicts the other night. It was fun.$: How did that go?Mel: He was shit. Pete: Pathetic.Kid: He’s a nice bloke and the divorce isgoing well.$: When was the first time you playedLA?Monkey: ‘82 or ‘83?Kid: I think it was ’83.$: And who did you play with?Monkey: Was it the Test Tubes? Or theToy Dolls? Lots of bands. It was at theOlympic.Kid: Who cares?$: Obviously LA must have made a bigimpression on you…Pete: Fuck yeah! We all had to line up atthe clinic when we got home! That wasclass! We all came out with a differentdose.Mel: It was scary because, when we first

came out, AIDS was first being talkedabout.$: What’s in your CD player right now?Kid: Hardcore.Monkey: Buzzcocks, Undertones.Pete: I bought the new Ramones CD. Liveat the Roxy…$: ’76.Pete: That’s it.$: Why just the one “D” in Adicts?Mel: Can’t spell.$: Really? Come on?Pete: I told you he’s from Ipswich. Kid: We used to be The Pinz. And thenwe were The Afterbirth. We actually did agig as the Pinz. Pete: And then we found out there wasanother band called The Pinz.Kid: No we didn’t.Pete: And then we found out there wasanother band called The Addicts, andthat’s why we changed it. [Cell phonerings, he answers it.]Pete: Hello?Kid: We’re not very good at interviews.Pete: No, the car park’s around back.Kid: We’ll interview you if you like. $: Interview me?Kid: Sure why not?$: (Sensing, mistakenly I might add, thatI’m boring the Adicts to death, I decide towrap things up.) One last question. Thereseems to be a resurgence of English punkand Oi! bands reuniting and playing again.Do you finds this to be the case or is thatjust an American perception?Pete: We’ve gone long stretches where wehaven’t played any shows. This tour we’redoing right now is our first since 1994.Kid: We put out an album in between.Pete: We’ve never split up ever. We’re thebest of friends. There’s nothing going tostop us. Plus we look pretty good for ourage compared to some other fuckingbands. We’re not as fat as 33

them cunts. If you think about it, it’sembarrassing. I was embarrassed to seecertain bands, which I won’t name, stand-ing up there on stage with big beer guts,looking like they’re going to be droppingdown dead at any minute. I think it’s a bitof a sham, really. Mel: If we think we’re getting old, we’llcall it quits.Pete: That’s right. One thing about us iswe’ve always been an honest punk band.Totally down to earth.Kid: We still bullshit though. Pete: If you look at his shirt (Kid’s), itused to say: “I don’t care.” Now it says“Who cares?” We have evolved. Isn’t thatamazing?Kid: I’m evolved.Pete: Most of us are daddies. Some of usare religious ministers. I am. I paid fivedollars for us.Kid: We are now two sets of brothers anda monkey. Pete: We’ve got Mel’s young brother onguitar to back me up. I’ve been sick forquite a long time and I don’t know if I canget through the gigs. The whole point is ifI don’t feel very well on stage I can walkoff and Scruff can keep on playing. Itmight happen tonight. Who knows? $: Gentlemen, thanks for your time.Pete: That’s it?Kid: You don’t want to talk about any-thing else?Pete: Come on, let’s talk about somethingelse. What’s our subject matter?Kid: Fish.$: Fish to eat?Pete: No.

Kid: Let’s have a look at thosequestions. (Kid takes my notes fromme. I have officially lost control ofthe interview, if, indeed, I ever hadcontrol in the first place.) Pete: Monkey, what do you want totalk about?Monkey: I have nothing to say,really.$: Monkey looks preoccupied.Pete: Mel, what’s on your mind?Mel: Nothing.Pete: Kid?Kid: Who cares?Pete: There’s the New Age sayingfor the new millennium: Who cares?Kid: [reading from my notes] “Howmany times have you readClockwork Orange?” You didn’t askus this one. $: Did I miss that one?Kid: Yes. Pete: That’s a good one. Good ques-tion, Kid!$: So how many times have youread Clockwork Orange? Monkey: I can’t remember. Kid: Twenty-seven.Pete: It’s an amazing book. Youdon’t get to see rape scenes choreo-graphed with delicious music in the

background very often.$: Which is better: the movie or the book?Kid: Book. Monkey: I like the book better. Kid: Quite different actually. (A brief conversation about the differencesbetween the book Midnight Express andthe movie ensues, but no one can quiteremember how either ends, or how theyare different. As for why we are discussingMidnight Express and not ClockworkOrange, I can offer no expla-nation.)$: Do you have a song thatyou’re absolutely sick to deathof playing? Pete: No, actually. Are yousick of any, Mel?Mel: No. I can’t think of any.Oh, yes I can. “Sensitive.”Pete: That’s because youcan’t play it. Kid: Mel doesn’t like it.Pete: He’s only got fourstrings. We’re waiting for himto graduate up to six. (Athought comes to Pete’s mind.I get nervous, anticipating apersonal question or anotheroutburst, but he poses hisquestion to Mel.) Would youlike to fix the comments youmade about the Twin Towers?Mel: I never said anythingPete: You fucking did! Mel’sselling pieces of the TwinTowers on eBay. Mel: You bastard.

Pete: (letting me in on a secret) You see,he’s feeling guilty because he knew one ofthe guys who was one of the hijackers. I’msaying nothing else. [laughs]Pete: Show him your teeth, Mel.(Pete cackles, gleefully furthering yetanother stereotype about the English. Heseems intent on convincing me they’renothing but a bunch of sheepshaggers withbad teeth.)Pete: What have you got to say for your-self Scruff?Scruff: As the outsider of the band, I wantto say that I don’t think they realize howpopular The Adicts are. Or maybe they do.Pete might know it.Pete: I don’t know it. I don’t know any-thing.Scruff: They always downplay it. Pete: What about you?Scruff: What about me?Pete: Why are you here? Aren’t you hon-ored to be here?Scruff: I am honored to be here. Pete: You’re blown away aren’t you?Scruff: I am.Pete: [to me] He’s blown away. He grewup with us, you see. $: It must be quite an honor sharing astage with you [laughs]. Scruff: I have to keep showing him thebloody chords!Kid: It’s what you’re here for.Pete: It’s lovely having him onstage. Heused to sit in practice crying, “I want to gohome!” He learned to play the guitar toThe Adicts. And now he’s on stage withus. It’s really cool for all of us. He’s notvery good looking though.Imagine what he’s going to looklike when he’s our age?

Harmonee: This is so exciting! I’m sohappy I finally get to interview you! Sowhat’s the story with Capricorn Records?It’s still technically the same people. Didthey change the name? What did theydecide to do with all that?Amber: Basically, whatever business part-nership dealings they had, changed, andwhen that changed they couldn’t continuewith the name Capricorn. They have a newname (Velocette) with new business part-ners, but it’s the same people and the labelis much, much smaller, which is cool for us.Harmonee: You finally got your vinyl.Amber: Yeah, exactly. They’re gonna re-issue Calling All Cars on the Vegas Strip onvinyl, which I can’t wait for. We’re vinylpeople and we always intended our music tobe heard on vinyl. It’s always been frustrat-ing ‘cause Calling All Cars… has been out

since ‘97 and people have

always asked for vinyl.Harmonee: Can I make a little guess? Isthat going to be on white vinyl by anychance? I was noticing a theme of the colorwhite in a lot of things. I don’t know if thatwas a conscious or if I’m reading into it. Ihave examples, too. Three different songtitles make references to white, one on eachalbum.“44: Dying in White” from Calling AllCars…, “White Devils” from the Lambs EP,“Black Satin, White Ice” from I Name YouDestroyer.Amber: Ah! I didn’t even know that.Harmonee: Calling All Cars… has a whitecar on the cover.Kat: And the CD is white.Harmonee: Lambs EP – lambs are white.Amber: Oh shit!Harmonee: I Name You Destroyer has lotsof snow. There’s lots of white.Kat: And your hair is white.Everyone: Ahhh!Amber: And my wrist band is white.Kat: The Winnebago is white.Amber: Actually, Ed and I would bothprobably wear all white all the time if we

could find clothes that we like that werewhite. Kat: They don’t have snappy white cloth-ing.Amber: No. If you’re looking for white,you get t-shirts, maybe some painters pants,or some really bad jeans that you wouldn’twant to wear.Harmonee: Even if you can find snappywhite outfits, it’s usually only at a certaintime of year.Amber: Exactly. There was this show inthe wintertime where I just needed a whitedress. I went to every store in Athens.There’s not a lot of stores, but I wentthrough all of them and not a single whitedress. So I break down and I go to the mall.Ed and I have walkie-talkies and we splitup. He was looking for white dresses and sowas I. When I was looking for white dress-es, I found not white dresses but some otherthings to try on, and I was in the dressingroom and, all of a sudden, Ed talks to mefrom the walkie-talkie and for a second Ithought he was actually in the room withme until I realized how improbable thatwas. It was really funny ‘cause people could

36

Interview by Harmoneeand Kat Jetson

Photos by Kat Jetson

Jucifer is a band from Athens, GA.They play collossol, turbulent music.Kat and I were really excited tointerview them. I think it shows.

hear us talking to each other and they could hear his voice in thewomen’s dressing room. But he found the white dress and it was alittle girl’s dress in, like, Bealls or something. So we got it. We lovewhite. I think white has this sort of majestic kind of purity qualitythat’s appealing, you know? It’s the antithesis of black [laughs].Kat: And sometimes the music feels black ‘cause it’s so heavy.Amber: Yeah, and I think something about stuff that would stereo-typically be classified as black when it’s made white or presentedwhite it changes the aspect of it. Harmonee: It’s almost like a nice, delicate balance. A yin andyang. Are you a big cereal fan?Amber: I love cereal.Harmonee: Really? Is Honey Nut Cheerios your favorite?Amber: Honey Nut Cheerios is my favorite kind of standard popu-lar American brand. I actually usually buy this stuff called Barbaras.It’s an oat square cereal and it’s alittle sweet but not frosted or any-thing. It’s good out of the boxand in normal cereal form, withsoymilk for me. And my dogloves it. He freaks out. Twofavorite people foods for the dogare pizza and that cereal. It’sfunny because it’s a cereal and itreally doesn’t have a strong fla-vor but he loves it so much.Harmonee: That’s a weird com-bination.Kat: Maybe he likes the crunch.It’s like the dog food, but cereal.Amber: Yeah, but lighter.Fluffier. [Girly giggles.]Harmonee: Have you evertripped in your shoes? You havean extensive shoe collection.Amber: I, um, can’t talk aboutmy LSD usage. [laughing] I actu-ally thought that’s what we weretalking about first ‘cause there’san LSD reference in the middleof “Malibu.” The only time I’vefallen in really big shoes was infront of about two thousand peo-ple during a show. Ed had hisheadphones on and it was the endof the show and he ripped hisheadphones off, knocked hisdrums over, and threw his head-phones down on the groundbehind me. I was still freakingout, making noise on the guitar,whatever. I picked the guitar upover my head and stepped back-wards onto the headphones.Kat and Harmonee: (Long,descending) Ohhh!Amber: I totally would havetwisted my ankle no matter what kind of shoes I had on and to makematters worse I had on a skirt and everyone saw up it. That wasgreat. Of course there was this massive cheer when everyone sawup my skirt, and Ed was backstage at that point, so he was like,“Oh, they loved it!” I came off stage and I was all gimped out. I hadtwisted my ankle and I twisted my wrist when I caught myself. Iwas like, “Oh god!” and he was like, “What? What?”Kat: “It was great honey!” Rock and roll. So I guess if you’regonna trip you might as well do it in front of a lot of people so theycan all see it.Amber: Usually, if I wear flat shoes I trip over my feet. It’s weird.I’m much more clumsy in normal shoes.Kat: How tall are you?

Amber: Classified. I’m just kidding. I’m 5’6”. These are aboutseven inches, yeah. I’m about 6’2” in these.Kat: Are the big shoes part of the big sound?Amber: I like big things. I like big guitars, big amps... I just likebig stuff.Kat: When I saw you last time I think you had two stacks (of amps)and that was only last year. Now you have, is it eight?Amber: I don’t know what we’d say with tonight. We didn’t playwith the complete array and I didn’t count. I guess it was maybethirteen tonight? I have fifteen different cabinets now.Kat: That just blows me away. I’m curious, what’s going on withyour guitar strings? They’re not guitar strings, right? Are theresome bass strings on there?Amber: They’re a special alloy that I made in my kitchen. I’m notgoing to give away my sound secret because I think it’s dumb to

copy and people want to copystuff if you tell them how to doit. I figured out how to do mystuff. It’s more fun to figure outstuff. Kat: I was staring at themtonight going, “I just don’tknow!” And I was surprisedthat you only have one distor-tion peddle.Amber: Yeah, people are moreusually surprised with that, andpeople always think that it’s anoctave peddle, but it’s a distor-tion peddle.Kat: And it’s great becausewhen you turn it off, it’s silent.And when you turn it back onit’s, “Vvvvv.” Your wholebody just fuzzes, I love it.Amber: Awesome.Harmonee: It’s a warm andfuzzy blanket.Kat: A white one, of course.Amber: That’s funny. I actual-ly have to restrain myself fromusing the word “white” morethan I do, and I didn’t realizedthere was a white song on eachalbum and now I’m freakin’out.Kat: Don’t worry about it.Harmonee: I guess it’s notreally that obvious. I just tendto notice things weird like that.I’m kind of a dork that way.Amber: It’s good to be a dork.Harmonee: Well, speaking ofdorky questions, your “ROCKSTAR” tattoo (one letter perknuckle)... you are so nice. I’venever met a nice person with a

“ROCK STAR” tattoo. Was it just one day, “I’m gonna get it”?Amber: It really was. And the only regret I have about it is that“rock star” became an insanely popular phrase within a year after Igot this tattoo. Now it will eternally be connected to the rock starcraze. In a sense, the craze sort of stems from the same philosophythat my tattoo stems from which is that “being a rock star” orabsolutely anything is completely in your control and in your ownmind. It has nothing to do with what the world tells you. So I thinkit’s kind of healthy for lots of young girls to be wearing their little“rock star” shirt. But, at the same time, it’s not necessarily some-thing I like being associated with or especially a big budget movie.Uhh, that’s the last straw.

My friend that I worked at a restaurant37

with, he was in a band. We were all in bands ‘cause it’s the only jobyou can have when you’re in a band, and he’d be like, “Hey rockstar, why don’t you get back to work? Hey rock star, why don’t youwait on those people?” Just fucking with me. My whole life sincethe first time I saw some biker with knuckle tattoos I always wantedthem and I could never think of something that fit and one day hecalled me rock star and it gelled and the next day I got it. It was justlike that.Harmonee: It’s perfect.Amber: And I like it because people with a sense of humor get itand they’re not put off by it. People who are put off by it don’t havea sense of humor, so I probably wouldn’t get along with them any-way. It’s kind of like a good divider.Harmonee: Have you ever broken any glass with your sound?Amber: Yes. And we caused plaster to fall from the ceiling. Lastnight the promoter for the show told me that, behind the bar, piecesof paper were actually levitating.Kat: Wow!Harmonee: Weird!Amber: The vibrations were so constant that they were levitatinglike a half an inch above the bar. That was really neat.Kat: I just wish you had a video camera for that.Harmonee: There was something that fell today, but I wasn’texactly sure what it was.Kat: There was a vent and there was a cover over the vent and itfell maybe this far [holds up hands about a foot apart] from Ed. Itwasn’t a flimsy thing. It was a heavy, metal thing. He was obvious-ly not aware, but I think at one point he looked behind him.Amber: He tends to look when either one of my amps sound weirdto him or something weird is happening. Kat: I love it when he’s just sort of laying back there, like he just

wants to get more sound in his ears, just to feel it.Amber: We both love that feeling you’re talking about.Harmonee: Have you ever heard a sound or frequency in someoneelse’s song that you wish you had done first?Amber: I don’t really look at other music and want to emulate it. Iappreciate it for its own value. So, I guess no. There’s all kind ofmusic that I love in various forms.Harmonee: How does a Jucifer song manage to formulate itself?Amber: Every possible way you could imagine involving Ed and I.We both make up music and we both make up lyrics and melodies.Sometimes I make up a drum part. Sometimes he makes the guitarpart. Sometimes one of us makes up a whole song and the other onefigures out what to do with it. Sometimes it’s half and half. Everypossible way that you can collaborate, we do.Harmonee: Just from sheer observation I’ve noticed how you twohave a really good relationship both personally and musically. Ithink one of my favorite stories was when you were on collegeradio and you played in one room and Ed was in another room butshit managed to completely go together. Amber: The radio station has better equipment now but at the timehardly had anything and everything that they had was from thefifties. In order to be able to hear vocals at all they had my amp andEd and the drums in one room, and I was in a hallway and there wasa heavy metal door between us. It had a window that was reallyhigh and a couple inches wide. I couldn’t see through it and hecouldn’t see me and we had to play like that. We couldn’t see eachother at all and we couldn’t hear each other well. It was very iffy.We got a tape of it, they recorded it, and it’s not as tight as we’veever been but we managed to get through it. Kat: That’s weird.Harmonee: To me, that’s a sign of a great band. Kat: Did you belong to any fan clubs when you were younger?Amber: Ed reminded me recently that when we moved a coupleyears ago I’d gotten some boxes, my parents had cleaned their attic,and we went through those boxes for the first time since I’d gottenthem and he found my Men at Work fan club newsletter. Harmonee: That’s awesome!Amber: That’s the only one.Kat: I still hold a Man or Astroman Intergalactic fan club card. Ican’t help it. They’re my favorite.Amber: We like them a lot, too. We toured with them for a weekone time, and it was one of the most fun times we’ve ever had.We’ve been really privileged. Every band that we’ve toured withfor more than a couple shows has been really great. Harmonee: That reminds me. Kat’s first question was going to be,”What did you do today?” and I just think that that’s funnier now,than if we hadn’t talked to you before. Kat: I thought it would be like an easy, really mellow question. Amber: Our days are never simple, it seems. That’s part of theadventure. We like that, even though sometimes you get the badstuff. But at least you’re always being surprised.Kat: I noticed the Windex bottle there. Ed was telling me he justkicked out some Windex and wiped off the mark where theWinnebago destroyed the car. This car’s totaled and he’s like[makes wiping motion with squeegee type sound].Amber: He wiped it off? I didn’t know that. That’s awesome. I wasdoing the insurance report and I realized the woman was asking meabout the damage to our vehicle and I said, “My passengers lookedat it. I haven’t even looked at it.” I immediately got on the phone. Iwas on the phone for two hours.Kat: Apparently you’re good to go.Harmonee: You Windexed the damage off… The miracle cure.Amber: We have a camera ‘cause we’re trying to document ourtour and we photographed the accident scene immediately after ithappened. Placement of vehicles and damage and whatever. We hada great witness. Martinas Carlotta. A beautiful name and a beautifulperson. Those things and the fact that we didn’t damage our ownvehicle, how can our insurance company be any happier?Kat: Have you heard anyone covering your songs?Amber: Yeah. Only a couple times so far. I’ve heard of peopledoing them more than I’ve actually heard them. I’ve only heard it

twice. It’s really amazing. We bothhave a lot of awe of the fact that peo-ple can be fans of our music the waythat we’re fans of music. To feel some-thing that strongly, it’s really cool.Seeing someone cover your song is theultimate testament to that. One bandfrom Athens and one band fromCarolton, Georgia.Kat: Did you know they were going tobe playing it? Or were you just sittingthere going, “Hey, I know that song”?Amber: Actually, they always ask ifit’s all right, which is even sweeter.There’s a band called Ampethy, andthey covered “Code Escovedo.” Andthere’s a band called Born to Pleaseand they covered “Long Live theKing.” It’s really cool to have yourcreations translated through someoneelse. Seeing someone else do one ofyour songs is almost like playing in aband with them for a song. It’s reallyneat.Harmonee: Are there any cover songsin your future?Amber: We’ve done covers. We usually do them at local shows orwhatever. Encore situations. You don’t want to put it in your setbecause a lot of times people think it’s your song. One time weplayed an Abba song in the middle of our set and then we realized,firstly, that most of the crowd was probably too young to rememberAbba and then we realized that probably everyone who did knowAbba thought it was a very strange Jucifer song. But we’ve done“SOS” (The Police) and we’ve donea couple Blondie covers ‘cause weboth love Blondie. One of ourfavorites is “Give a Dog a Bone” byAC/DC just because I like to takethose misogynistic songs and playthem. It’s really fun and it’s a goodriff. It’s fun to play. The rock hand.Kat: There used to be a big, puffyfinger rock hand. They need one. Iactually saw one at a Supersuckersshow. I don’t know if they were selling them, but I saw some guywith one. I thought that was brilliant.Harmonee: I notice that on I Name You Destroyer, it has a veryconstant fluidity. I was just wondering if that was a conscious deci-sion to do that or if when you were recording it, it just happened tobe the mental state you were in?Amber: It’s both. We both feel that albums should be albums – along piece of music intended to be listened to from beginning toend, but also hopefully, you can listen to individual songs andthey’re good. [laughs] Some records, you can tell they just put thesongs that are probably going to get played on the radio first andjust throw the other songs on there. We definitely don’t approach itthat way. Being in the studio is really creative in weird ways so italways manifests itself in some way we never anticipated by the endof the whole process. Kat: I don’t know if this is going to bring back horrible memoriesbecause if I think about it, it’s just wretched for me, but did you goto your prom and do you remember what the prom song was?Amber: I almost went to the prom and at the last second my parentswould not allow me to go. It would have been probably silly any-way.Kat: I went to mine because I felt like I needed to or something.Amber: It’s so ingrained in your brain.Kat: I hated it. It was the worst, worst, worst.Amber: I wasn’t one of those people that would have had fun at theprom. My whole point of going to the prom was to bust it up. We

were going to wear our combat boots and stuff. It was veryBreakfast Club.Harmonee: The prom’s going to remember me!Amber: The thing about high school that’s great though, and grow-ing up in the deep south is that if they don’t kill you, they make youreally fucking strong. I’m actually grateful for all that kind of shit.Now I don’t care what people think of me, which is a really goodthing to have.Harmonee: Have you ever thought of re-locating?

Amber: Yeah...? When we firstgot together, we really wantedto move to Montana but we justreally didn’t have the money todo it, and belatedly we realizedthat it’s way too cold for us inthe winter. We couldn’t reallylive there. Now, with thisWinnebago being our newhome, we’re going to be able tokind of set down somewhere

for a little while, which is cool. But Athens is really great. We’vebeen there a long time and it’s a place where you have really strongrelationships with people that last for years and years. It’s comfort-able to live in. There’s action enough if we want it but it’s not apain in the ass like a city is to get around and deal with strangers.Harmonee: People drive on the right side of the street.Amber: It’s getting congested. It’s starting to become a suburb ofAtlanta. Atlanta is going to be Los Angeles in thirty years or some-thing. Growing up around Atlanta and with the sort of southernmyths about the rest of the country, New York and LA were sup-posed to have the worst rush hour and the worst drivers and the beltway around DC was supposed to be this nightmare. I’ve done all ofthem in rush hour. I’ve done all of them in a big vehicle and none ofthem compare to Atlanta, because in Atlanta, the highways are real-ly curvy, like race tracks, and people are always going about ninetyand that’s like the main string of traffic, and they don’t signalbefore they merge. I’ve actually got a theory that Atlanta, sort ofpsychologically as a city, that, because it’s southern, it kind of has achip on its shoulder and it’s got to prove how much of a city it real-ly is. People are so violent and they’re more rude. We’ve had peo-ple be so nice to us in New York and Los Angeles, places wherepeople are supposed to be so mean and people are generally muchfriendlier than all the other cities. It’s very weird.

They have some amazing architecture though. A lot of thestuff is really old. It’s defiantly got its own charm as a city, but theroads, phew, awful. All the streets are one way, too, 39

I had on a skirt and everyone saw up it.That was great. Of course there was this

massive cheer when everyone saw up my skirt,and Ed was backstage at that point, so he

was like, “Oh, they loved it!”

so if you get lost you can’t find your way back. That was my crisisas a teenage driver, sneaking off to try to go to shows and stuff andbeing lost for hours in the city.Kat: You’re big into thrift store shopping. What was your coolestfind?Amber: On the way back from shooting our cover and the bandphotos for I Name You Destroyer we were driving through Kansasand we tried to camp and we slept in a couple places that were justtotally terrifying, where we felt like we would just get killed if westayed there. We finally found aplace that seemed all right and wecamped there that night and in themorning we went into town and itwas one block. There was this placeand it was called “Ed’s Junk.” It’s agood sign. These people had a storefront and they had a warehousefilled with stuff. They were in theireighties, and they were really cool.They probably had ten thousand records, and we’re vinyl hogs. Wespent six hours going through. It was back breaking. It was hot anddusty. We already had a couple thousand at that point and we could-n’t afford to buy their whole stock and we didn’t even have any-where to put it all. Personally, we had our trailer with us and we hadbrought it just in case something like that happened. It was amaz-ing. We picked up like three thousand records for like forty dollars.It was awesome. I can’t even think of anything we got right now.We got some great rare stuff too. We’re not the kind of collectors

that ever want to sell anything. We have to keep it all, but it’s stillcool knowing that something is really valuable. I got all these 78s, awhole box. They’re so good. They’re all from the thirties and for-ties. The music is so crazy. Some of the songs are so strange lyrical-ly.Harmonee: You have a phonograph player then?Amber: We have lots. It’s not like Victrola records or whatever,but we have one record player that only plays 78s, and we have lotsof record players.

Harmonee: Do you have anyfavorite musical instruments inyour possession?Amber: All of them. Musicalinstruments to me are like dogs,cats...Harmonee: Part of the family?Amber: Yeah. I love every one.There’s not a dog I don’t thinkisn’t cute and there’s not an

instrument I don’t want.Harmonee: Does piano represent a particular emotion for you, andif so what? Piano shows up every once in a while on an album, usu-ally on a very emotional or melodic song.Amber: Piano is... [drawing a blank] I almost had that fuckingword and it was the perfect word and I don’t want to use any otherword to describe it.Harmonee: Do your instruments represent particular emotions foryou?Amber: Definitely. Piano is stately. That’s the word I was lookingfor. Piano is stately and sad to me, or frightening. That’s the kind oftexture I use it for.Harmonee: It was an upright piano too – correct? – which has adistinct sound all of its own compared to the other sized pianos.Amber: Yes. I love pianos. We were in a music store that’s inAthens that has really beautiful baby grands. It was the first time Ihad ever looked at the price on them, and it’s amazing. It costs morethan people’s houses cost. We have a twenty dollar piano that wegot at a thrift store. It’s great for scary. Andy Baker, who we alwaysrecorded with, had it in his old studio. Part of why I got the twentydollar piano is because it had a similar sound to it, like in the lowerregister it’s so scary. We just haven’t used it yet, but we will. Harmonee: If it has wheels, you can just drag it behind you.Amber: The piano behind the trailer. I can think of some interestingreversing. Harmonee: Have you always played guitar? Were you drawn tothat instrument in particular?Amber: I particularly love stringed instruments. I love dissonanceand slightly bent notes and all that stuff that you can only get fromstrings. I enjoy other instruments, but emotionally I get the most outof stringed instruments. My dad had guitars around the house and Iwould sneak them when he wasn’t around and teach myself stuff onthem, so that was the first stringed instrument I learned. I boughtmyself a violin and never got really good at it before I accidentallycrushed it. It was really sad. It was in the corner and we’ve alwayslived in places that were too small for all of our stuff. It was in thecorner of this room and it was wintertime and some coats had gottenthrown in the corner. We were trying to reach something up on theceiling and somebody stepped on the coat pile thinking it was justthe coats, then crack! Gone. Kat: Why does Ed play on a kitchen chair instead of a drum stoolbesides the fact that it looks really cool. It’s so Brady Bunch. Amber: It’s just what’s comfortable for him. Kat: Did he just start that way, ‘cause he didn’t play drums before.Amber: He’s basically a low rider. Drum sets don’t go as low as hewants to sit.Harmonee: He has everything set up very meticulously. Kat: Even the drum sticks.Amber: We’re both meticulously aesthetic people. We can reallyspend some time arranging things so that they look good to our eye.Kat: Even Forrest, when he was placing your little ponies yester-

As far as trying to do something artfulwithout falling off into cheeseland, I feel likeI’m closer to accomplishing that kind of thing

than I ever have been in the past.

day, he put much care into it.Amber: We have a pony girlwho has unfortunately been incollege lately and hasn’t beenable to come on tour with us. Heronly jobs were doing that andmerchandise. She was great. Shereally had her whole system. Shelearned my system ‘cause I usedto do it, but the bigger my equip-ment got, I didn’t want to be thatasshole who’s out there wastingtime in the eyes of the peoplewaiting to play. They don’talways get to come out but I havea whole box of My Little Poniesand their little toys. [Amber holdsup a bunny with puffy sparklesand the three of us get very gig-gly and girly. Ed discovers ourlunacy.]

Nobody has any ideauntil they actually go on the roadwith us. People always say stufflike, “It must be so easy withonly two people,” when there’s five times as much equipment asany normal band and the same amount of work that would normallyhave been distributed between five to eight people. Harmonee: What do you think led the both of you to a life inmusic?Amber: Necessity, destiny. I don’t think there’s ever a questionever since we were kids that we wanted to play music a lot. Ofcourse, it’s presented to you as being this unreachable goal to actu-ally do it, especially when you’re a kid, but we’re determined.Harmonee: I really admired one of things that you both said in oneof your interviews, and maybe this is why I’m drawn to you as aband. Everything you do and everything you make all comes backto music. All the money you make goes back into buying instru-ments, making more songs, producing, stuff like that. It’s just areally admirable quality to have with a band because it proves thatyou’re not trying to do something for other people, you’re doing itfor yourselves, which in turn makes it better because it’s a true formof art. So I guess I’m just trying to say thank you.Amber: Thank you for noticing.Harmonee: There’s such a lack of that in the world and in musicthese days.Amber: So much of everything is commerce. We have to be com-mercial enough to be able to keep making music, which is a differ-ent approach than just wanting to make money off of it. But, unfor-tunately, you have to have the commerce. Reading my own wordssomewhere not that long ago, I said this and I thought it was actual-ly kind of a smart thing that I said, so I’ll repeat myself, “InAmerica art patrons, there aren’t patrons like in Europe. I thinkthere’s a lot more support for all forms of art as far as governmentgiving you money or rich people/families supporting arts and someof that goes on here, but to a large extent it’s being part of pop cul-ture that sustains art. A lot of fantastic stuff falls by the way sidebecause it doesn’t become popular and it’s too bad.” Wow. Thatwas smart! Sometimes I come across very well.Harmonee: Is there any reason why you choose to not include lyricbooks with your CD inserts?Amber: There was and I’ve changed my mind. There will be lyricswith I Name You Destroyer. I don’t like to dictate to people whattheir experience of music is. I always felt like that was kind of aweird thing to try and do, and I sort of felt that including lyricswould do that to some extent. Then I got confronted with so manypeople getting the lyrics wrong in a way that made the lyrics reallybad, to me, and embarrassing. So if I’m gonna be hung for mylyrics, I want them at least to be my lyrics, so I’m going to includethem. Also, I think, with the lyrics on I Name You Destroyer, I’m

evolving. Poetry is inherently pretentious and bad and lyrics areeven worse. As far as trying to do something artful without fallingoff into cheeseland, I feel like I’m closer to accomplishing that kindof thing than I ever have been in the past. I feel more capable ofputting it down on paper.Harmonee: When I was interviewing Rizzo, one of the girls saidsomething really funny. You can make stuff into a song – lyrics thatwould never make it as a poem or as a story or anything – you canput into a song and it makes perfect sense.Amber: Yeah, it’s totally different. I always wrote. I wrote beforeanything else except for drawing as far as artistic shit. [laughs]Writing lyrics, you’re not really dealing with words. When you readpoetry or prose it has your own inflection on it, the reader. Whenyou listen to someone singing, you don’t want to listen to themsinging big words that could be really cool on paper. There’s allkinds of sounds that don’t work for singing so you have to try tomake words that both read well and sound good sung. It’s a realchallenge and it makes a lot of lyrics suck when you read them, butthat’s okay. I have this continuing fascination with The Cars record,the really big one, “Let the Good Times Roll” and all those songs. Ican’t remember but it’s a record that got played a lot at the restau-rant I work at and every time I listened to it I thought about it andanalyzed it and I couldn’t believe some of the lyrics. They’re goofyas hell. They’re stupid. The combination of the great pop music andthe vocal delivery make them so poignant. Silly things like… awwshit… I’ve got “Let the Good Times Roll” in my head right now.Harmonee: Me too! I’m totally singing that right now in my head,my background music.Amber: “It’s not the perfume that you wear, it’s not the ribbons inyour hair.” Those words sound really stupid when you say them, butthe way he sings them within the realm of the music, it’s reallymoving. Crazy.Harmonee: What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever seen your stick-er stuck?Amber: [laughs] I like the way you said that. It’s a good tonguetwister. I personally haven’t seen them anywhere really weird.Someone told me they found me on a mustard bottle in a restaurantin the Midwest, so that was good. I have been told regularly by peo-ple who say, “Oh we’ve got your stuff in our house,” it’s almostalways that they have our poster in the bathroom. So, we’re like abathroom band. Harmonee: Well, now I know where to hang my posters. Amber: That’s where it belongs. I’m not sure what thatmeans.Kat: That is a beautiful way to end an interview, I say.Amber: We’re a bathroom band. 41

Squab are by far one of the mostentertaining and charming bunch ofladies creating music today. Since theirinception almost four years ago, theLong Beach based Squab have grown tobecome a strong band of intelligent andpolitically active women, playing beauti-ful and moody synthesized rock. I imag-ine David Lynch sneaking into theirbedrooms one night and whispering intheir ears as they slumber, “Bring methe music that is in my head.”

Before Jen and I interviewedSquab, we were a bit concerned. Goingon the little we knew about them as peo-ple, we thought they’d be really shy andquiet, and that it would be difficult forus to get a good story out of ‘em. Butdang, they totally threw us for a loop! Itgets downright wacky in here with talkof bad haircuts, Mr. T kicking DarthVader’s ass, the water dogs rescue mis-sion and, of all things, braking for tofu.Don’t worry if you don’t “get it.” We’restill in the silent part of our laugh, too.

Kat: What’s the most interesting thing anaudience member has shouted out duringone of your shows, or some other showyou’ve been at?LaDawn: “I wanna have 10,000 of yourbabies.”Tracy: Yeah!

Chris: Someone said that?LaDawn: Our friend Crystal.Kat: Squab babies?Chris: Squablings. Tracy: She just shouted that out. Chris: 10,000. Wow! That’s pretty hard-core. Jen: I guess I want to direct the next ques-tion at LaDawn.LaDawn: It’s ‘cause I’m not wearing anyunderwear.Jen: I was wondering if you played drumsin a marching band and that’s where youswiped that thing you hold the drum on.What’s that called?LaDawn: The harness. Uh-uhn. I boughtthat at the store, but I did play marchingdrums in high school. But that idea comesfrom a surdo, a Latin drum. Jen: So that’s where you got the idea to dothat?LaDawn: Yeah, but a surdo you typicallyplay with a mallet and your hand. Jen: So is it just freeing to be able to standup and play some songs on the drum likethat during your show?LaDawn: Yeah, it is. It’s a whole differentfeeling to be able to stand up and move, ascompared to being stuck behind the drums. Jen: It’s cool as shit and it sounds good,too. Kat: At what point did you decide that youwanted another drummer?

Tracy: She kept coming up to me atshows.Chris: Bugging the shit out of her.[Lots of laughter.] LaDawn: Yeah, I wanted to practice rudi-ments. Not with everybody, just withTracy.Tracy: And then I asked her to be in theband.Chris: We always talked about gettingmore people in the band. To make morenoise. Rosy: We wanted to do more with elec-tronic equipment and we didn’t haveenough hands. Kat: It’s a cool addition. I hardly ever seetwo drummers in a band.Jen: The Allman Brothers. Kat: Yeah, cause they’re so much likethem. That’s going to be the comparison. Tracy: Well, that was the secret band wewere ripping off. Chris: Bow Wow Wow.LaDawn: The Grateful Dead.Kat: All right! What-EVER! It’s not likethis. Geez, let me have my moment.Anyhow, at your first practice did youknow that you were going to be utilizingthe keyboards more?Tracy: Well, we came to the studio aloneand I was going to either ask her to be apart of my thing or make her a part of this.Either way, I wasn’t going to let her go.

42

Kat: I want to know what would be thething you’d want to show off most in yourhouse?Rosy: My shrine. Jen: What’s on it?Rosy: Instant mashed potatoes. All kindsof pictures of different gods and goddesses.Top Ramen. Jen: Instant food and gods and goddesses.Kat: That’s awesome!Rosy: And a lighter. Jen: So it’s something you’ve been build-ing slowly, or…Chris: How many Top Ramen do youhave there?Rosy: One. It’s called Smak. It’s a genericTop Ramen.Jen: Could it be more generic?Kat: It’s only 29 cents! LaDawn: My dog, Rimshot.Tracy: My cat Emma and my Star Warsstuff.Kat: Chris?Chris: Probably all the naked bodies. [Thelook on Tracy’s face at this point waspriceless. Eyes all wide and a bit fright-ened.] Nah, probably those silly, little catsand those damn water dogs we rescuedfrom you, Tracy. Kat and Jen: Wha? What are they? Waterdogs?Tracy: They look like salamanders. Chris: They look like Godzookie. Forthose of you who watched Godzilla. Kat: And they’re living things in water? Chris: Yeah. They’re cute!Jen [to Tracy]: Well, what were you doingto them?Chris: She wasn’t taking care of them.Kat: Were you neglectin’?Tracy: Just busy and…Kat: Busy?LaDawn: Yeah, Ms. Animal Activist,

what were you doing to the water dogs?Tracy: That’s why I gave them away.Chris: We begged you…Tracy: Nuh-uh. I asked you.Chris: We’re like, arguing. [There’s a bit of dissension in the group atthis point.]Jen: And Squab breaks up…LaDawn: Over the water dogs.Chris: Well, I liberated them. Anyhow,maybe my Siouxsie stuff. I’ve got somerare Siouxsie stuff.Jen: How does your activism influenceyour music? I just think it’s a good thingthat there’s bands like you playing benefitsand such. What are some you’ve played?Tracy: We’ve played for Food NotBombs, Queer Women of Color, women’sshelters... Animal activism is really impor-tant to me, but it’s not something as agroup that we collectively agree on. LaDawn: On that note, it’s cool that we’reall passionate about different things. Webalance each other out.Jen: So is it something you guys did indi-vidually before you got in a band?LaDawn: Well, I know that I’d be activewhether or not I was in Squab. To me it’simportant to take initiative and be active inany way you can. Whether it be helpingsomeone out, or playing a benefit. Justspreading the knowledge that you have,whatever it is you are passionate about. Rosy: The band, too. We’re all women.Queer. LaDawn: Yeah. That in itself is hardcore.Kat: Ugh! You guys are queer? I’m justkidding. I thought I was being funny, butno one laughed.Chris: I laughed! Do you see me cryingover here?Jen: I’m still in the silent part of my laugh. Tracy: I think what really keeps us going

is that we’re passionate about all theseissues but we’re equally passionate aboutmusic. Each of us love music. We’re notin a band just so we can do those things,even though we try to do what we canbecause we care about those things.Kat: You mean you’re not in a band justto get chicks?Chris: Dammit! She discovered us.Jen: What are some of the things you

sing about?Rosy: Life experience. I mean, that’s notthe only thing we write about. Kat: It’s strange because they have a funquality about them. They’re up and dance-able, but you can tell the lyrics are sayingsomething more.Tracy: It’s kinda weird… This one songcalled “Hanger,” like, what it’s about...Everyone likes to dance to that song.Chris: It’s weird watching people. [ToRosy] Do you want to go into what it’sabout?Rosy: It’s about female genital mutilation. Kat: Wow!Tracy: And people are all dancing. Jen: Next time I won’t dance, I’ll justclutch my…Chris: You can start a new dance.[This is bad, but we’re all laughing now.]LaDawn: I’m still in the silent part of mylaugh. Kat: Webster’s Dictionary’s definition ofthe word “squab” is either a.) A newlyhatched or unfledged pigeon, or b.) A soft,thick cushion as for a couch. Which areyou?Chris: Neither. It’s early, pre-’20s slangfor a young female. And in ‘50s/’60s it’salso slang for a well-endowed woman. Inpresent day it means to fight.LaDawn: Or a baby pigeon if you’re in arestaurant. Chris: Or a delicacy. Originally it camefrom this slang dictionary that I found.Squab started out with just Rosy and I, andwe were just screwing around playingstuff. And then all of a sudden we had ashow. And we were like, “Shit, we needsongs in two weeks.”Jen: How did you have a show just likethat? Chris: Friends of ours were playing this

43

Winter Madness show at Koo’s (a nowdefunct all-ages co-op in Anaheim)…Tracy: In ’97.Chris: Yeah, in ’97. So me and Rosy hadjust been messing around and playing andthey asked us if we wanted to play. That’swhen we switched all of the time.Sometimes I was on bass, sometimesdrums – which wasn’t very good. Then wedrugged Tracy in there. We drugged herand brought her in.Kat: Is that, like, the word drag that youused in past tense?Chris: No, we drugged her and broughther into the band.[Hysterical laughter.]Chris [still talking about Tracy]: She does-n’t remember.LaDawn: Yeah, and she’s still on ‘em.Jen: You’re like, “I just woke up…”Chris: And she was behind the drums. Wedrugged LaDawn, too.LaDawn: Still drugged, too.Jen: Where do you guys get your samplesfrom? Those speaking parts in your songs.Tracy: They’re in Rosy’s head.Jen: Okay, they’re in your head, but howdo they get on the keyboard thing?Rosy: It’s Sylvia Plath.Chris: Readin’ a little poetry. Causesomeone’s a Sylvia Plath fan.Jen: Where did you get that?Tracy: I have an audio tape of hers.Jen: I never even knew that she recordedanything.Tracy: I haven’t found anything else.Jen: And she’s reading it?Chris: Yeah, it’s nice.Tracy: Her voice is haunting. Kat [directed to Tracy]: So, you go by thename Tracy Jupiter, you have a song called“Jupiter,” and you have a tattoo of theplanet Jupiter…Chris: And her cat’s name is EmmaJupiter.Kat: Explain.Tracy: Well, Jupiter’s the largest planet inour solar system, and it’s magnetic pull,with especially Io, is so strong that the sur-face is always changing… The size, the

strength, the changing makes me feel fear-less like I could change anything if I needto. Kinda just know that I’m myself andI’m the only one who has the power to doanything. Kinda like that.LaDawn [ecstatic and clapping]: That wasgood Tracy!Kat: Io is actually my favorite planet. Tracy: Yeah, I wanted to change our bandname to Io.Rosy: The album was going to be calledIo. Chris: But there’s already a band called Io.Kat: And there’s also a girl named Io.That’s her real name. She’s in this bandcalled Project K. Jen: If Squab were a late night infomercialwhat quasi-celebrity would you want to beyour spokesperson?LaDawn: Mr. T!Kat: Ooh, that’s good.Tracy: John Travolta.Chris: I’d say Siouxsie. How awesomewould that be? LaDawn: “If you already have theFlowbee, try Squab.”Chris: Or better yet, Nina Hagen. Everyone: But Mr. T is cool.Tracy: Darth Vader, really.

LaDawn: JamesEarl Jones!Tracy: We all agreewith Darth Vader.Chris: We do? No,I want Nina Hagen.LaDawn: NO! Mr.T would kick DarthVader’s assssss.Tracy: No way.Darth Vader wouldbust out his lightsaber. Kat: Are you moreprone to buy a prod-uct that smells goodor does the job bet-ter?Tracy: Does the jobgood.

Chris: Yeah, I’d go for doing the job good.But I am a sucker for something that smellsgood…Kat: Bed Head products are putting me indebt.Chris: That’s why you just use glue.Kat: Glue?LaDawn: What are you talking about?Chris: You were talking about Bed Headproducts, right? Then you said it puts youin debt, so I said to just use glue.Tracy: But it doesn’t smell good!Kat: People would be sniffing my hair andgetting high.Chris: Glue smells good.Tracy: That’s probably what’s wrong withme, Chris, hanging out with you all of thetime…[We are all laughing uncontrollably at thispoint.]LaDawn: That was another good one. Kat: “Gee, your hair smells terrific.” Doyou remember those shampoo commer-cials?Chris: Yeah!Kat: That’s going to be my next pick-upline. The next cute girl I see I’m going tojust say, “Gee, your hair smells terrific.”Chris: But what if they stink?Tracy: Yeah.Kat: Well then, I certainly wouldn’t wantto go out with them.Jen: But they might get the job done.Tracy: Good one.LaDawn: Awwww yeah.Kat: I don’t even know how to respond tothat. [At this point Jen and I notice Tracy andRosy whispering.]Jen: What are saying? No whispering!Chris: I shoulda stuck the mic there.Jen: It picks up everything. Tracy: They all take it to like, the FBI…Kat: We drop the sound of everything butthat.Jen [speaking about Rosy]: “She was like,‘I lied. I really like things that get the jobdone.’”Kat: LaDawn, you didn’t

45

answer that question.LaDawn: What?Kat: The job done or smells good question.LaDawn: I like smelly things, but I likethings that do what they’re supposed to do.Tracy: I see you in stores at the body careproducts section, sniffin’…LaDawn: I like incense, body…Chris: Foo foo stuff.Tracy: Yeah, she doesn’t look like foofoo…Chris: She sure smells foo foo and good.You’re always smelling good at practice.You don’t have to get all embarrassedand…LaDawn: Job done! Job done! As long as itdoesn’t smell really bad.Kat: Like poop.Chris: Boy this poop works good! That’ssome amazin’ shit![We’ve lowered ourselves to poo jokes andwe really think we’re funny.]Jen: I love poop, it’s always funny. Allright, this is a question in series. Who in theband is most likely to get in a bar brawl?Tracy: LaDawn!Chris: LaDawwwn. No, Tracy. I take thatback. Tracy got kicked out of The Brit.LaDawn: Yeah! Not me. I’m a lover, not afighter.Rosy: It’s Tracy. Tracy: This guy pushed a friend of oursand I was like, “Hey!”Chris: That alcohol pumped you up!LaDawn: Got kicked outta The Brit. All ofus.Chris: And the cops were going down thestreet asking us “Were you girls at TheBrit?” And we were like, “No, we’re justwalking down the street. Why would we goto a fag bar?”Tracy: I won’t fight with girls, though. Jen: Okay, you’re all still in the bar…Who’s is most likely to go home with aphone number?All in unison: Tracy!Jen: Get out on the dance floor…All in unison: Tracy!Chris: Rosy dances, too. LaDawn: Not me.Chris: I don’t dance.Jen: Drink a fruity drink…Chris: ME! I love fruity drinks.Kat: Finish this sentence: I BRAKE FOR_____________.Chris: It makes me think of those stupidones like, “I brake for rainbows, I brakefor…”Tracy: That’s what it is. Well, you brakefor what, Chris? “I brake for tofu?”Jen [a little too sincerely]: Do you brakefor tofu?Chris: Nooo, I don’t brake for tofu! I liketo eat tofu, but I don’t brake for tofu.Jen: You just kinda slow down. Tracy: You get a good look.[Laughter has completely taken over at thispoint.] Jen: So technical. [Mocking Chris in aplayful way] “I like tofu, but I don’t brake

for it. Well, maybe sometimes I do if I’mstopping on the way home from work.”Kat [continuing on with our Chris ribbing]:“If it’s on the right side of the road.”Jen: “I’ll never make a left for tofu.”Chris: Oh man.LaDawn: Animals in the road. Tracy: Pedestrians.LaDawn: I brake for… Can I have anexample?Tracy: Big boobs.LaDawn: Big boobs?Jen: Tight t-shirts. They’re always some-thing cheesy.LaDawn: Oh wow! I brake for…Kat [directed to Rosy]: Hey, what do youbrake for?Rosy [said as if it’s themost obvious thing]:Yer daughter.All: Oooooh!Jen [laughing]: Didyou just say “Yourdaughter”?Rosy: Yeah. LaDawn: That wasvery good.Jen: What would youbrake for Tracy?Kat: Jupiter?Tracy: Spaceships. LaDawn: Spaceships?Tracy: Yeah, so Icould go to Jupiter. Jen: If Squab were aboard game whatwould the player’s pieces look like, or be?Chris: Tracy’s gonna be a rocket ship,probably, right?Tracy: Yeah. Chris: How did I know! What would yoube LaDawn? Would you be a furry bunny?All: What?!Tracy: Where did you get furry bunny?Chris: I don’t know.Kat: Cause she. Likes. To pet. Cuddlythings?Jen: Furry things. Chris: Ooh, Jen’s getting steamed overthere. Need me to crack open a window?Tracy: Rosy, you were just gonna answer.Rosy: A crow. Chris: Oh, I don’t know what I’d be.Jen: Tofu chunk?Tracy: Soy bean?Chris: I’d be a soy bean? Puh-lease.LaDawn: That was fuckin’ funny. Chris: I’d probably be a car.Tracy: Or tools.Chris: Yeah, or tools. Kat: Tools?Chris: I’d be a Craftsman torque wrench. Jen [to LaDawn]: Bunny?LaDawn: Yeah, bunny. Just call me bunny. Chris: A drum?LaDawn: That would be my answer foreverything. I’m making myself not saydrum. Like the house question, I was like,“I’d show my drums.”Tracy: I know… I was too.

Kat: Tweety Bird… Male or female?LaDawn: Male.Kat: With those long eyelashes?LaDawn: Gay male. Kat: Who do you think had the coolestpunk rock name? Like Bobby Pyn orFarrah Fawcett Minor.Tracy: My favorite is Rosy Face. Kat: Aww…LaDawn: I like James Brown.Chris: Ya know, Dinah Cancer is a goodone. Jen: Have you ever had a really bad hair-cut? When? Explain.LaDawn: I’ve never had a haircut. Chris: I had a bad haircut. [Directed toTracy] Do you know what I’m going to

say? She was cutting my hair and didn’thave the guard on the razor. She was sayingsomething and I turned around and“vrooom,” I had this big bald spot up theback of my head. And Tracy was just like“Oh shit!”Kat: That’s definitely not something youwant to hear. You don’t want dentists tosay “Oh shit!” and you don’t want someonecutting your hair to say that, either. Tracy: When I was sixth grade I tried tocut my hair myself and I gave myself a baldpatch. I wore a hood in, like, the summer-time. Jen: Just a hood. No jacket?Rosy: I was in the sixth grade and went toFantastic Sam’s and I wanted to make itseem like I knew what I was doing, so thelady was like, “What do you want?” And Itold her a perm, but I didn’t know what aperm was.Tracy: You had a perm? A permanent?Rosy: Yeah, and it was right before schoolstarted. Everyone called me MichaelJackson. Chris: That’s awesome!Rosy: It was just really tight. I didn’t knowwhat the hell was going on. Jen: Do you guys have any last words?Anything you’d like the public to know?Do you do parties?Chris: When’s your next one?

47<www.squabmusic.com>

On a rare occasion I overhear a commercial radio station. In that sliver of time between advertisements, themusic that comes out almost always sounds like a demographed-to-death blood clot, a congealed mass thatwould prove fatal if popular music itself was a body. Gone is the fluidity of the heart blood. It’s so far removedfrom what I consider music, what I consider vital, that I start to question if my ears work right. So many peo-ple love it. Am I one of the few who doesn’t enjoy sugary concrete pumped into my ears, couched betweenexperts telling me teeth whitening and hair implants will make us all happier?

Contrary to popular belief, all the choices haven’t been made. Music – the intentional formation of sounds –hasn’t yet been monopolized. Away from large media’s never-ending monologue of self-praise there are bandsthat are creating their own worlds of rare (but not endangered) music. The Starvations are one such band.They make one hell of a din. Basically, they’re making their own shit, be damned if you listen to them or not.They’re obviously not a musical manufacturing plant strong-armed by what’s in thirteen-year-old girls’ make-up kits.

As much of a copout this may seem – it’s usually my duty here to extend a hand as to what they sound like – Ihope it will become apparent in the interview why I won’t. The Starvations appear to exist for themselves – Ijust happen to really like what they do – and the music they make is instantly identifiable. It’s as red as blood,slippery as sweat, as invisible yet tangible as a soul. Sure, they vaguely sound a little bit like other bands, pastand present, but at the core is their own strength of vision. You wouldn’t be wrong if you called them rock-’n’roll. I guess what I’m getting at is that they’re real. You can hear it’s music made by exposed human beingswilling to bare themselves, not characters nor caricatures.

Todd: Why the name The Starvations,instead of the singular, The Starvation?Ryan: Because it would be heavy metal.When you put an “s” on it, it’s not heavymetal.Gabe: It had to do with being up for twodays on speed and it ended up soundinglike a really good idea at the time.Todd: When it’s “starvations” – plural –it’s always plagues and starvations. It’spretty epic or biblical.Gabe: Totally.Todd: Is that intentional?Ian: Lots of it came with it after the fact.Todd: Are you happy with the name?Gabe: We’ve definitely grown into it.Todd: Just a little background. You guyshave been around for, what, eight years?Ryan: I turn four tonight, actually, being inthe band. Ian: The first single came out in ‘96. Ithink the band originally formed about twoyears before that. Todd: Is all that vinyl still available?Gabe: Mike (Lohrman, owner of VinylDog Records and lead singer for theStitches) just found a box of them. It’sfunny how that keeps happening everyyear.Ian: We’ve probably only sold three.Gabe: He told everyone it was out of printafter the first two months but miraculouslyhe finds another box of records every year.All the Revenge Records singles are out ofprint.Jean Paul: And The Church of theDoublecross (Kapow Records) singles aregone. He only has a couple left.Todd: Where did your sound come from,sonically speaking. How did you get theguitars to sound reverby but not surfy?How did you get the vocals to sound “des-perate thin” without having them soundpaper thin and shitty?

Jean Paul: That’s just

straight out of our hearts, I’d have to say.Ian: That’s just the way it happened.Everybody’s influence together. Todd: But didn’t you start out moregaragey?Ian: Yeah, originally. When TheStarvations first started, it was Gabe andthis guy Louis and our friend Darren. ButDarren got sent to rehab three months after.Ryan: Before Ian joined, me and my friendpicked up Gabe hitchhiking one night andhe told me he had a new band and he toldme it was “axe murderer rockabilly.”That’s a direct quote. Even though we juststarted, it was still kind of something new.We were just experimenting with it. It keptevolving and evolving and evolving. I start-ed playing bass first. I’d never played bass,but I was in another band with Jean Paulcalled The Prescriptions and that was end-ing. When Jean Paul came in, I startedplaying guitar, which was totally different.Everyone was coming from differentplaces.Jean Paul: I didn’t play the bass when Ijoined the band, either.Todd: You guys play like a band, as a unit,instead of a loose bunch of people wantingto do solos or different tangents. It’s inte-grated.Ian: And that’s a lost art these days.Todd: That’s what separates a lot of bands.You can’t teach this at Guitar Institute. It’santithetical to that.Ian: It’s like an “in our blood” type band.This band is definitely like a soul band, forlack of a better term. Not like soul music,but this is heart and soul. Blood. Nobodyelse could be in it ever again. There’s nevergoing to be a band like this from any one ofus if this band broke up.Todd: Speaking of, how did the recentdecision to get an accordion player in theband come about?Jean Paul: Well, I used to play accordion,

but thank God she got drunk one night.Vanessa: They have a song on their firstalbum with accordion and it’s one of myfavorite ones and they never played it liveand I was at his house and saw his accor-dion and I was like, “I’m going to learn thesong and I’m going to go up there and playit.” He was, like, “Wow, you play accor-dion?” Jean Paul: Thank God I don’t have to do itanymore… and she’s playing piano now,too.Todd: How many songs are you playing onnow?Ian: Recording-wise we’re trying to putpiano in a lot of stuff. I don’t think we’reever going to do that live; maybe do it liveon a few songs. Mainly accordion live.Todd: What steps have you guys taken toavoid being a Fonzie band – a stereotypicallook-at-me greaser band. Ian: Because we don’t care about image.Jean Paul: It’s just not the shit I listen to,personally. I’m mostly into experimentalmusic. I don’t listen to rock’n’roll, for themost part.Gabe: Our songs are all about real life, too,so it’d be impossible to be cartoon charac-ters, like I think you’re saying.Ryan: Gabe writes magnificent words.Ian: He’s an excellent songwriter, really.That helps fuel the whole thing… Look atall five of us, too. We’re not all one thing.There’s no image. We’re not, “Hey, we’rethe slick band.” Or, “Hey, we’re fuckin’ atattoo band,” or “We all have matchingleopard print cabinets.” Everybody in thisband has different musical outlooks.Jean Paul: We actually fight a lot.Ryan: We share the same interests andstuff but everybody’s stretching out in theirown way of what they like. Ian: It all comes together. We made ourown image with all of these different walksof life that are in the band.

Interview by Todd • Studio photos by Dan Monick • Live photos by Matt Average

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(l-r) • Ian Harrower: drums • Ryan Hertz: guitar • Vanessa: accordion, piano • • Gabriel Scarecrow Hart: guitar, vocals • Jean Paul Garnier: bass •

(l-r) • Ian Harrower: drums • Ryan Hertz: guitar • Vanessa: accordion, piano • • Gabriel Scarecrow Hart: guitar, vocals • Jean Paul Garnier: bass •

(l-r) • Ian Harrower: drums • Ryan Hertz: guitar • Vanessa: accordion, piano • • Gabriel Scarecrow Hart: guitar, vocals • Jean Paul Garnier: bass •

(l-r) • Ian Harrower: drums • Ryan Hertz: guitar • Vanessa: accordion, piano • • Gabriel Scarecrow Hart: guitar, vocals • Jean Paul Garnier: bass •

(l-r) • Ian Harrower: drums • Ryan Hertz: guitar • Vanessa: accordion, piano • • Gabriel Scarecrow Hart: guitar, vocals • Jean Paul Garnier: bass •

Todd: Am I getting it correctly that I see alot of voodoo references with your musicand packaging?Jean Paul: You know what? That’sfuckin’ bullshit.Gabe: No, hold on. A little bit of it is true,but it got sensationalized. An article in theOC Weekly was a good lesson on how stuffgets transcribed and how journalists takeoff on a certain subject. It has nothing todo with the rest of these guys.Ryan: I think there might be one song thatmight say something.Jean Paul: I want to clear my name up onthat one. I had a voodoo wedding, whichhas been fucking mentioned in a couple ofthese articles. It has nothing do to with thefucking band and it’s definitely no one’sfucking business. I got married. Neitherone of us were religious. I don’t know howthe word spread because that was privateshit. I don’t know how that leaked out tothe press, but they fuckin’ ate that bullshit

stuff.Todd: What are the recurring thematicsthat you visit in your music? If the audi-ence is listening to your records or seeingyou live, what do you hope that they’lltake away from that experience?Gabe: There’s definitely no message oranything like that.Ian: There’s the sort of cliché undertoneswith the broken hearts and the women andlife and friends.Todd: I don’t quite buy that. They are verythematic, story telling songs. There has tobe some direct intention. There’s a lot ofrevenge involved, a lot of sickness, a lot ofdrug use.Jean Paul: You know, it’s what happened.Ian: It’s like a documentation of the histo-ry of our lives. I think it refers back to ifpeople are going to be impressed with us,be impressed with the fact that five peopleare pouring what’s in their blood out intothe music and it’s not really a message.

It’s not like we’re going, “God, we’redying.” We’re not trying to be morbid, butthat’s just the undertone.Todd: When I listen to your full-length, Idon’t feel like killing myself, but there isthat definite underlying tone of desperationthat’s somehow redeeming. I get that lis-tening to Johnny Cash, too.Ryan: People get that way. A perfect waythat people get through that is music.Jean Paul: We’re a pretty emotionalbunch and it causes a lot of problemsbecause we get at each other’s throats andshit. But it comes out on stage in a goodway. There’s a lot of fucking tension andit’s not because we don’t love each other.It’s because we’ve been together for solong and it just happens when you’re closeto people. I think that’s where a lot of thedarkness comes from.Ian: But give us something happy to writeabout and we’ll do it. You know what Imean?

up. It pisses me off because that’s my pri-vate life, which I’ll expose with these guyson stage, but it doesn’t have shit to do withthe music. Todd: I got two things directly from yourmusic. On the back of your first album,you have doll parts glued onto a whiskeybottle – sort of like a voodoo doll…Gabe: I made that. I’ll be honest. I used topractice that stuff but I don’t know if thatwas thought of too much, really, into ourband. That would be one way to get us toopigeon holed. People throw that wordaround too much, anyway, how to describe

It’s, “Hey, we’re telling our story.” We’replaying our rock’n’roll and just relate tothe topics. Most people have drug prob-lems. Most people have revenge theories.It’s just shit that we figure most peoplehave experienced.Todd: Would it be possible for you guysto write a happy song, then?Gabe: You know, I wrote my first oneabout three weeks ago. I’m really, reallyproud of it. ‘Cause I tried for years andyears and years to write one and it wouldalways have a horrible ending to it.Ryan: I think it’s probably just our nature.

Todd: You guys seem to have good tim-ing putting out records. You put out thefirst single that Revenge put out and thelast one that Vinyl Dog put out.Ryan: It’s not planned though.Todd: How could it?… But you seem toknow a lot of active people in the musiccommunity. Why would that be? Just beenaround for so long? Kapow’s putting outan EP. GSL’s putting out a single.Ryan: Revenge Records is us. Ian: None of us really bounced around. Alot of people grew up in Orange County,then moved to LA, New York, Europe. We

Jean Paul: When my roof caved in and a couple thousand of cockroaches fell down and Isprayed them with hairspray to try and kill them and they turned into little kitties and thekitties were covered in the hairspray and dying and I felt super bad. It wasn’t a real experi-ence, but that was the worst cockroach thing.

80

Gabe: It was a twenty-four hour jack-off joint. So guess what I was cleaning up.Todd: Not tears.Gabe: No. That smell will never leave my nose. It’s cum mixed with bleach and shoe scumand lots of other unnamables. It lasted three days.

pretty much stayed put between OrangeCounty and LA. From playing over theyears we met more and more people. Ryan: I think the last year and a half, that’swhen we’ve been getting more attentionand people want to help us out with shit.Before, it was pretty desolate. We weredoing our own thing, besides Mike andVinyl Dog.Ian: We’ve only been a serious band nowfor three years now, out of eight. Put astructure to it.Ryan: I’m surprised you said we had tim-ing putting stuff out because it took forever– after we recorded A Blackout toRemember, it took almost more than a yearto get it out.Gabe: And it was stressful as hell, too,because the engineer guy was a disgruntledVietnam vet guy. The guy turning theknobs for us was missing fingers. And himand Ryan would almost get in fights andshit.Ian: Blackout took way too long for arushed product. I like it, but with all thenew stuff, that album can pretty much go tosleep.Jean Paul: I think we recorded that albumin four or five days.Ryan: That was our first time in a studio,too, realizing what we could do.Jean Paul: And it was all digital. What wedo now is all analog, which is way better.Ryan: Digital doesn’t work with us. Wehave to record with two inch (master) tapeand that’s the bottom line.Todd: What song are you happiest withnow?

Gabe: My favorite song is a brand newsong, which is actually going to be the a-side of that GSL single called “HorrifiedEyes.” It’s about when you’ve been drink-ing all night and you go for a walk in themorning and everyone’s looking at you likeyou’ve got crabs crawling out of you.Seeing the tourists gawking at you. I thinka lot of people know what that feels like.Todd: What’s one show you didn’t want toplay because another band you really, real-ly like was playing nearby? Gabe: One thing I’ll never forgive Ryanfor – we were playing at the Doll Hut(Linda’s Doll Hut, a now-defunct venue inAnaheim) one night and he got all starryeyed and wanted to play with Buck Owensin Bakersfield.Someone: [muttering]Ryan: I’ll tell the truth right now. Backthen, I had a mess with a girl and backedout of that show because that particular girlwanted to spend time with me and I didthat. I did go to Bakersfield…Jean Paul: …but there was no BuckOwens.Ryan: There was no Buck Owens. This is acouple years ago. When I came back fromthe trip, and lied to everybody, Gabe hadactually got me a fuckin’ Buck Owens 45that he drew all over – dicks in his mouthand arrows pointing down where I was giv-ing him a blowjob…Gabe: I totally forgot about that.Ryan: …and all that type of shit. What didthat sticker say? “There’s no heroes in the99 cent bin.” It was fucked up. I didn’t livethat down for a really long time. But I feel

so good to come clean about that. That’llnever happen again.Jean Paul: We miss other bands’ showsfor a good reason, though.Gabe: This isn’t supposed to be big headedor anything, but I can’t honestly think ofone band I’d rather see than play a gig.Todd: What’s been the most off-base criti-cism of you guys?Gabe: Granted, we all maybe drink a lot,but there’s a real bad rash of bands rightnow that totally pride themselves on that.Ryan: “Oh, beer. ‘77. Everybody drink.”Fuck that.Gabe: Murder City Devils and DropkickMurphy bullshit. What a stupid thing. It’ssomething you do, like brushing your teethevery day. It’s not something to make a bigdeal about. It’s just kind of silly.Ian: It’s happened a few times, at shows,we’ll get criticized for, “There’s a bunch offucking drunks that can’t tune their instru-ments.” That pisses me off because we’renot trying to give you the flawless Dodgerstadium show where everything’s perfect.It goes back to, that’s our soul up there. So,if a guitar happens to be a little out of tuneor if someone breaks a string, who gives afuck? That’s not the point. Ryan: I think it’s hard being out in a bandbecause anybody who’s interviewing youor talking about you, wants to go, “They’rethis type of band.” I mean, it soundsclichéd and weak-hearted to say, “Whycan’t people just say it’s music?” Youknow what I mean? We’ve been comparedto ‘77 bands. I don’t think we’re anywhereclose to anything like that.

Gabe: Or psychobilly.Rockabilly.Vanessa: That everything has tobe put into a category.Ian: Psychobilly is fuckin’ wayoff. That’s a fashion show. It’s allabout the hair and the hot rods.Ryan: You can’t say shit like thatbecause there are bands like thatwho are fucking ruling.Gabe: It’s more of like a showything. There’s no real life vibefrom that stuff. It all seemsthought up and rehearsed.Ryan: I was talking about realshit, not like Social Distortion. Todd: Switching gears altogether,what’s the worst experienceyou’ve had with a cockroach?Jean Paul: I’m kind of a bitch when itcomes to bugs and they come in the houseall the damn time and you can hear mescreaming. But the worst experience I hadwas in a dream, when my roof caved in anda couple thousand of ‘em fell down and Isprayed them with hairspray to try and killthem and they turned into little kitties andthe kitties were covered in the hairsprayand dying and I felt super bad. It wasn’t areal experience, but that was the worstcockroach thing.Gabe: I don’t think that cockroaches arereally bad because they’ve been so much apart of my life. Every apartment I’ve everlived in. They’re almost like my friends bynow. When I used to be stupider, if therewas a girl I liked, I’d kill a cockroach andgive it to her, like, “You know how longcockroaches have been around for. I hopeyou stick around for a long time.” Only acouple of them got it. I’m really fond ofthose things. Maybe we’re cockroach rock.Ryan: A cockroach flew into my girl-friend’s hair and I had to put her in a head-lock on the floor to get it out. I thought shewas going to die, actually. It sounded likeit.Todd: What’s the worst job you’ve everhad?Jean Paul: Every job.Ryan: I worked at a Burger King for a yearand I was on probation and I couldn’t goout past ten, so I got a job. I worked for$4.25 an hour and they gave me a raise tofive bucks and I thought that was thefuckin’ best thing in the world. But I wasdumb.Vanessa: I worked at a flowershop with amidget re-born Christian with a glass eyewho would make me listen to Christian AMradio and would preach to me about how Ineeded to sell all of my possessions.Gabe: A Christian re-born midget?Vanessa: Yeah. Born again, whatever, whowould beat his children.Todd: Did he at least arrange nice bou-quets?Vanessa: Not at all. It was the worst train-ing ever and his stock room was his slashkitchen and there were cockroaches any-time you moved anything.

Gabe: It’s funny how history repeats itself.I come from a long line of cum moppers,actually. I was really hard up for moneyand I ended up at this place in NorthHollywood. I answered the ad. No, theydidn’t say what the place was called. It justhad the address. It said “Apply in person.” Iget there. It’s a sex shop. I think,“Occasional vacuuming, bathroom checks,no big deal.” I fill out the application and Ileave and I look at the center of the placeand there’s this other door which lead tothe nerve center of the place – twentyrooms. It was a twenty-four hour jack-offjoint. So guess what I was cleaning up.Todd: Not tears.Gabe: No. That smell will never leave mynose. It’s cum mixed with bleach and shoescum and lots of other unnamables. It last-ed three days.Ian: I’m a barber. That’s the best fuckingjob. Are you kidding me? If you’re notgoing to play rock’n’roll, be a barber, I tellya. Anyways, I’d just turned sixteen, wenton independent studies, and got an oldMercedes. I’m like, “Fuck yeah. Time towork. Let’s make some money.” I wasdoing school work once a week. My buddy,who lived down the street from me said,“Hey, I work at this maid’s service. Wedrive to people’s houses.” It was a bunch ofdrug addict guys, and they go and cleanhouses. So, I’m like, “Yeah, I’ll do that.” Iworked there for a month and a half. Therewas this one lady, I remember, we’d go toher house twice a week and she was aboutsix hundred pounds and the holy terror…what she could do to one toilet every cou-ple of days is fucking amazing. I can’t for-get it. Shit I didn’t think that could comeout of a human body would be stuck in thistoilet. Finally, I just couldn’t handle it.Todd: What has been the largest show offan devotion to the band?Someone: [muffled sounds]Ryan: It was not a suicide note.Gabe: Did you read it? It was a hard luckmotherfuck of a note.Jean Paul: Gabe said, “We got a suicidenote from this kid in Pennsylvania.” Thiskid would write us all the time, telling ushow he liked to get drunk and drive aroundlistening to our music and shit.

Gabe: The last one we got was anapparent suicide note. There wasnever any return address or any-thing. I pray to God it was justsome sick joke, but that’d take asick motherfucker to pull a jokelike that. It creeps me out prettybad. Ryan: Fan devotion? We playedthis arcade in south OrangeCounty, where it’s fuckin’ a barrenwasteland for any kind of bandsplaying. We ended up playing anarcade one night where it wasfreakin’ two hundred kids.Ian: Kids just stacked up on eachother.Ryan: We were so pushed up

against the wall, standing on our amps,playing, while these kids just… Gosh, thehigh from it was incredible. It was nuts.Kids standing on top of pinball machines,fucking punching each other.Jean Paul: I put down my bass and foughtfor a song.Todd: Are you guys fearful of getting pop-ular?Jean Paul: I’m not afraid of anything.Ryan: I don’t think we’d reach that level ofpopularity. I think we can reach a levelwhere lots of people knew about us and wecould play a lot and tour a lot, but I don’tthink that people would get it.Ian: The masses.Gabe: It’s a band you either get or youdon’t get. So, it’s hard to say.Ryan: If something like that happened, Idon’t know how I could possibly react to it.I don’t know if it’s something that I want.It’d be ideal to play music that other peopleenjoy and tour and whatever and put outmusic and get paid to put out music, andstuff like that.Todd: Do you think there’s a burgeoningscene – not of a specific style, but of like-minded bands – happening in SouthernCalifornia?Ryan: I don’t see anything.Jean Paul: The Alleged Gunmen, CrashLogic, Neon King Kong. Dagons. LipstickPickups – Vanessa’s other band – I dig allthose other bands.Ian: All-ages shows are definitely good. Ifthe place is full, it’s because a bunch ofkids want to watch all the bands, bottomline. Maybe it’s two fourteen-year-oldsmaking out in the corner for the first time,but other than that, they’re all there forrock’n’roll and they want to support youand buy all your shit and that’s rad.Gabe: I’m totally excited to be in a bandright now. I think there’s actually a lot ofgood, good music coming out right now,more now than the last ten years. I’m proudto be playing music right now because itfeels like there’s some kind of momentum.I actually buy new records thatcome out right now and that’ssomething I never used to do.

53

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Nero Burns: Singer and GuitaristHoney: BassPaco Loco: Drums

Graham: So how did you two (Nero and Honey) meet in the firstplace? (Nero and Honey – the Lux Interior and Poison Ivy ofTufnell Park, North London – are an item offstage, too.)Nero: We met at a Link Wray gig at The Bottom Line in

Shepherd’s Bush in 1996. The band I was playing in

at the time was at the bottom of the bill. A trashy band called TheCannibals. That was the very first time we met. Honey: We didn’t even speak to each other that night.Nero: I just thought she was cool …Honey: No, you thought I was with somebody! But I wasn’t …Nero: But I thought you looked cool.Honey: I thought you looked cool too.Graham: [To Honey] So did you like his band that night?[Honey splutters with laughter and then says, “Shhh.” Gigs by TheCannibals, the veteran garage punk band fronted by Mike Spenser,can be charitably described as “shambolic” and “ragged”. Legendhas it that Malcolm McLaren auditioned Spenser for Sex Pistolsvocalist before discovering Johnny Rotten.]Nero: I have to admit it was a fairly awful gig. It was my first gigwith The Cannibals. I just remember it being really horrible! ButI’ve never played to as many people since.Graham: How long were you in The Cannibals for?Nero: Only about a year. Previous to that I was in a band called FistFuck Deluxe. And then that kind of fell apart in a welter of baddrugs and recriminations. It was me and Johnny Deluxe. We record-ed a single. I don’t think it came out in this country, but apparentlyit sold out in Belgium or something! Fist Fuck Deluxe is still going.They’ve just been tearing it up in Japan.Graham: When did you actually form Nero Burns?Nero: Nero Burns officially started as just me as a solo projectwhen I was still in The Cannibals. I was looking for other people.When I met Honey she seemed absolutely perfect for it. We were60

Interview byGraham Russell

Photographs byShawn Scallen

made for each other. It was obvious. Honey: I said I’d be in a band with youwithout hearing any of your stuff! A friendof mine would see me going to therehearsals and said, “You don’t want to bein his band – you just fancy him!” And Iwas like, Yeah! [Laughs]Paco: [Incredulous, obviously hearing thisfor the first time] You fancied him, so yousaid you’d be in his band?Honey: Yeah, because I didn’t have anyidea what his stuff sounded like. It was agood thing I liked it!Nero: Otherwise it would have been a dis-aster! In the first couple of weeks I wasthinking, I’m really glad she’s joined theband, but I really, really fancy her! Andthen nature took its course. We worked as aduo for about a year. Which was kind ofhard work: when you’re playing to a back-ing tape without a hulking sex beast behindthe drum kit, it all seems a bit karaoke. So,cue the hulking sex beast behind the drumkit…Graham: [turning to Paco] So how do youand Nero know each other?Paco: We grew up together in Reading andwe were doing dubious bands there…Nero: Extremely dubious!Paco: The weird thing about the Readingscene is that people keep in touch despitemoving all over the place, and he remem-bered years before I’d played drums in hisfirst band. And he asked if I’d like to playdrums in his new band now. And I saidyeah. That was ’98.Graham: Tell me about the part of Readingyou grew up in, then.Nero: It was horrible!Paco (who still lives there): It still is horri-ble! Nero: That’s why I live in London.Paco: But it’s cheap, so that’s why I live inReading. Nero: There’s actually very little to do inReading, but there’s about 50,000pubs so all people do is drink. It getsreally lairy late night on weekends.You just have to avoid it otherwiseyou have a really good chance of get-ting your head kicked in. Paco: But equally it’s got its punksand hippies and dopers. And Hell’sAngels. They used to run the localclubs.Graham: The Hell’s Angels have achapter in Reading?Paco: Oh, yeah – they used to bouncethe doors and sell us speed.Nero: They’ll be coming for you now,when they read this in print!(Nero Burns’s three-song ZombieQueen EP came out in 2000).Nero: That was recorded in ’98,before Paco joined. So it was justHoney and I and a drum machine. Idrank half a bottle of vodka and turnedall the distortion pedals up, and that’show we got our sound.(They released the EP themselves on

Nero’s own one-man DIY record labelRemo Records – which he’s since re-chris-tened El Ray Records.)Graham: What was that like, doing it allyourself?Nero: Dispiriting. It made me realize theamount of hard work you’ve actually got todo. For ages we were on track for being oneof the laziest bands in existence! It’s onlywithin the last year we’ve managed to getour acts together and get out and play.Graham: How many copies of the EP didyou press?Nero: I think it was 5000. And they’ve allsold out. [This elicits snorts of derisivelaughter.] No, seriously….Honey: It was a limited run of 100.Nero: And we’ve still got loads!Honey: People just don’t know about it,that’s all.(I ask American émigré Honey more abouther background. She grew up in NewYork’s Chelsea district – “about five blocksfrom the Chelsea Hotel” - and as an under-age juvenile delinquent was an enthusiastichabitué of the city’s punk fleshpots likeMax’s Kansas City and CBGB’s, then intheir late 70s prime)Honey: I used to always go see JohnnyThunders. The Heartbreakers. The DeadBoys. I don’t remember the first time Iwent to Max’s, but I remember the first timeI went to CBGB’s – because I got draggedout by my mom and my friend’s mom! Westupidly told them where we were going,and we got dragged out. Nero: That doesn’t do much for your punkrock credibility, does it?Honey: The Talking Heads were playingthat night, but I wasn’t going to see theband, it was just to go to CBGB’s. It wasactually my birthday, so I’d just turned six-teen. And I got caught standing right by thebar! Paco: [Shocked] I have this image in my

head now of your mother coming toCBGB’s to collect you! That’s so wild!Honey: Why? Paco: That your mother would go to a punkclub… most parents just stay up waiting andask where the hell have you been? Honey: But it was getting late. She thoughtit was time for me to come home. It wasmore my friend’s mom. It was her idea.Graham: She was more pro-active.(Honey later became more cunning).Honey: All the times after that I’d sneakout, and stuff my bed with a doll with a wig.And I’d get dressed in the stairwell of theapartment building. So if I got caught goingout, I’d be wearing a dressing gown. Myfriend and I would go out, like, three times aweek. At school the next day I’d have hadno sleep and so people were suggesting tomy mom that I was probably on drugs – butit was actually from going to see bands!(Memorably, she once saw the doomed SidVicious perform at Max’s Kansas City notlong before he killed Nancy Spungeon.) I’msure he played a couple of nights. They hadtables at the front and I sat next to his mom!(The notorious Anne Beverley, who com-mitted suicide only a few years ago. It wasshe who unwittingly provided the fatal, finalbatch of heroin that killed Sid in 1979).Paco: Did you ask her, “Are you proud ofyour son?”(Sid’s all-star backing band at the timewould have included ex-New York Dollsmembers Arthur Kane on bass and JerryNolan on drums, with the Clash’s MickJones on guitar).Graham: Did he seem like a mess? Did hefinish his set?Honey: Well, he seemed fine to me. I sup-pose he was a mess but in my eyes he wasperfect. He looked great, even though hisarms were all swollen.Graham: Was Nancy there? Honey: I don’t remember seeing her. She

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probably was.Graham: Did you play in any bands in New York before youmoved to London?Honey: Very, very briefly. We never played any gigs. But one ofthe guys I used to play in the band with, Eddie, used to be in theTop Cats, before they became the Stray Cats. The Stray Cats werethe Top Cats before they became The Stray Cats. He was in theoriginal line up. But then he fell out with Brian Setzer. Graham: When did you move to London?Honey: About fourteen years ago. I was an Anglophile, I guess. Ialways thought London was the coolest place to be. I thoughtEnglish people were cool.Nero: She doesn’t hold that view anymore.(Honey’s mentioned in the past one of the bands she used to followin New York was The Rock Cats, often credited as the first punka-billyy band. Unsurprisingly, Nero Burns have cited The Cramps asan influence, but also the electro-art rocker Foetus, which givesyou some clues to their sound.) Graham: So have all three of you always into rockabilly and psy-chobilly?Nero: I think it was more rock’n’roll across the board. When Istarted doing Nero Burns stuff it was because what I was doingwith Fist Fuck Deluxe was more of an industrial techno punksound, and whilst I played guitar in it, it was very much in thebackground. And so I wanted to rock out. It re-awoke my love oftrashy stuff like The Ramones. It’s all punk, whether it’s old 50spunk like rockabilly, or 60s garage punk or 70s punk. It’s more thespirit of the music rather than the music itself. Graham: Why the samplers?Nero: I didn’t want to be purist about it. For years I was workingon my own with a four-track and teaching myself programming,just so it meant I could have a fully formed thing. So I started offon my own, and then I started trying to integrate that into the liveperformance. I don’t see any point in looking too far back.(Technology) is so easily available nowadays. Why not use it andtry to move things on just a little bit? Graham: Your sound is distinctive because you use electronic per-cussion and a live drummer at the same time.Nero: It’s more noise!Graham: You’ve certainly been playing a lot lately.Nero: Yeah. We worry we play too much, but the gigs keep oncoming. We’re supposed to be playing with Demented Are Go, anda couple of other things in the pipeline.Paco: Flying in the face of the band’s inherent laziness!

Nero: We’re making up for lost time.Paco: It’s been fun. We’ve been playing to someweird people. At the Fusilier & Firkin gig inJanuary, Honey had people trying to snog her.(It’s true: they opened for the psychobilly bandJim Dandy that night and afterwards a startledHoney told me total strangers were approachingher and kissing her full on the mouth. I assuredher it was probably a sign of appreciation.) AndNero had some guys trying to snog him, too!Nero: And half of them were Portuguese. (Hemeans members of the wild Anglo-Portuguesepunk band Parkinson’s, another Razorcake pro-file in waiting.)Paco: There were some old punks in the cornerthat night. Charlie Harper (of the UK Subs) wasthere, and Steve Diggle from the Buzzcocks. It’sbeen fun.Nero: I mean, if we only get three people turn upto see us, it’s still fun for us. It’s just not very funfor the promoters.

Contact Nero Burns on: neroburns@clara.co.uk.Contact Shawn Scallen on: scallen@spec-trasonic.com. Shawn Scallen’s website:www.scallen.com.

I was in a band called Fist Fuck Deluxe. And thenthat kind of fell apart in a welter of bad drugs and

recriminations.

Nardwuar: Who are you?Jello: I wish I knew.Nardwuar: You are J. Lo. Get it? J-elloBiafra.Jello: What, did my pink ruffle panties giveme away? We all know what you like,Nardwuar.Nardwuar: And I want say, Ba-boom! Butthe new CD you’re going to put out iscalled Ka-Boom!Jello: Tentatively, yeah, but it’s not namedafter the cereal, it’s named after the WorldTrade Center being reduced to cereal. It’sThe Big Ka-Boom, Part I. There will beother parts in the series as this ill-advisedwar on terrorism continues to evolve ordevolve. It’s not a triple album like theother spoken word. It’s just a single discthis time. It’s sort of a teaser for the longerone. I’m not too sure what I’m going to callthat one yet. It might be called MachineGun in the Clown’s Hand. It might be

called Osama McDonald.64

Nardwuar: Boucher (Jello’s last name.) Isthat a French name? Do you have Frenchroots in your family?Jello: I think several hundred years back Ido, but for all practical purposes, I’mgeneric.Nardwuar: Now, there’s a rumor goingaround that you’re up for the lead inVampire Hookers II.Jello: Well, that’s the first I’ve heard ofthat one, but as long as I can play one of thehookers, I’ll be okay. I’ve been alreadythinking about the implants and all.Nardwuar: Don’t you actually sing thetheme song to Vampire Hookers II? Steveof the Neos told me that. You sang it tohim.Jello: I think I saw Vampire Hookers at hishouse or something. Maybe I sang it to himwhen I was at Cecil English’s place when Iwas doing those albums with DOA andNomeansno. I can’t remember now, exact-ly. Maybe I had to do that to describe the

song to him. Ofcourse, since then,it’s been covered byThe Show BusinessGiants and severalother bands, but Idon’t think it evercame out on recordin its original ver-sion.Nardwuar: JelloBiafra, the Neos,Steve, how comethey were never onA l t e r n a t i v eTentacles? Steve,you said, helped getNomeansno get onA l t e r n a t i v eTentacles. Howcome the Neos neverwere? They couldhave been as big asDRI!Jello: We didn’thave money to putout everything wewanted to put out.Kind of like now, inother words. If we’dhad money then, likeSST had later orEpitaph or Fat hasnow, that’s probablyone of the bands wewould have workedwith.Nardwuar: Do youhave some sort ofaversion toVancouver Island at

all? I heard you didn’t like Nanaimobecause your parents honeymooned there.Jello: No, all I knew about Nanaimo beforeI went there was that my parents spent anight there on a travelling honeymoon andsaid it was the thinnest walls of any motelthey’d ever been in their lives and they did-n’t get any sleep as a result.Nardwuar: How did they pick Nanaimo?Jello: I’m not sure they picked it. Maybe itwas getting dark. That’s the way both theyand I travel sometimes. Pick road at ran-dom, and when it’s time to pull over, youpull over and hope you can find a place tocrash.Nardwuar: And, Jello Biafra, you’realways hanging around Canadians. Tell meabout your collaboration with I AmSpoonbender, featuring Robynn Iwata fromVancouver, British Columbia, Canada.Jello: I didn’t know she was fromVancouver.Nardwuar: She used to be in Cub.

Live Photos by Frank Mullen

Jello: That explains the Mint (Records)connection, I suppose.Nardwuar: Yes, who stayed at your houseonce.Jello: When I wasn’t there.Nardwuar: Right. On the DOA tour.Jello: Apparently... It’s part of a tributealbum for, maybe, the best band ever thatnever made a record, to my knowledge,namely The Screamers, an LA band whowas a huge inspiration to me when I firstmoved to San Francisco when I was tryingto get my own band going. They were themost original punk band then and maybe ofany other time. They didn’t even have gui-tars. They had fuzztone electric piano, areal creative drummer, a sound driven byan ARP Odyssey synthesizer stacked onmilk crates and a trained mime namedTomata du Plenty, who had a lot of stagepresence and all. I miss them dearly. Andso, we’re doing a song called “Eva Braun.”I’ve heard, I guess it would be a rough mix,that Dustin of I Am Spoonbender wantedto use as the final mix but it needed somerepairs.Nardwuar: You’re involved with so manycollaborations. Last time in Vancouver,didn’t you do “Taking Care of Business,”with Randy (“the Riff Scientist”)Bachman?Jello: Not as far as I know. Is that ChrisHouston’s latest tall tale?Nardwuar: I’m not sure if it’s some sort oftall tale, but did you record with ChrisHouston some sort of song. What was it?“American Woman”! That was it. I’msorry.Jello: It was Chris’ recording, but I wasjust dubbed in after Chris and, yes, RandyBachman and Brian Goble. Was the drum-mer Jon Card or somebody else? Can’tremember. Anyway, they laid down thetrack and I’d heard Brian sing it before andhe did a pretty good version. I did it a num-ber of different ways and learned some-thing from that session in that one way todo vocals – if you think you’re done andthere’s one extra track, do the absolutelymost obscenely bad version you can possi-bly come up with and some of it actuallywinds up being used.Nardwuar: And that was like a super jam.Or at least Randy Bachman was on that.Weren’t you in Sweden and did some sortof jam with Wayne Kramer? What sort ofsuper jams have you been involved with,Jello Biafra?Jello: Well, that was a super jam. It was thetwentieth, maybe even the twenty-fifthanniversary of that Swedish garage band –I’m sure you know...Nardwuar: The Nomads.Jello: The Nomads. And they flew overspecial Guests of Dishonor, I guess you’dcall it. Handsome Dick and Ross the Bossfrom the Dictators, Nick Royale from theHellacopters came out. The main guy fromSator played. Chris Bailey from The Saintsdid “(I’m) Stranded” and they brought me

out to do “Let’s Lynch the Landlord” and“Five Years Ahead of My Time,” that oldThe Third Bardo ‘60s garage song that theyre-did and when I learned the lyrics, I real-ized they were just clear off the scale ego-centric. They had to have been writteneither by a fundamentalist Christian evan-gelist or Charles Manson or maybe both atthe same time, so I did it maybe in the styleof the singer of the God Bullies might havedone it or something. And then at the end,they brought out all of the guitarists andWayne Kramer to do “Kick Out the Jams,”which I got to do one of the versus of andthat was pretty cool. It was five guitars atonce and the sound guy was able to handleit so the other instruments didn’t get buried,so it felt like Ministry covering “Kick Outthe Jams”; the whole stage taking off like ajet plane and all of these emotions runningthrough my head about how much mytwenty-five cent copy of Kick Out the Jamsmeant to me in high school at a time whenmost of my friends were abandoning rock-’n’roll for Emerson, Lake, and Palmer orYes or something and all these years later,I’m on stage with Wayne. I couldn’tbelieve it. Many things have gone wrong inmy life, but every once in a while, some-thing goes right.Nardwuar: Let’s skip over to SouthAmerica for a moment. What was it likedoing, “Holiday in Cambodia” withSepultura in front of 70,000 people andwhen was that?Jello: That never happened.Nardwuar: Didn’t you sing “Holiday inCambodia” with Sepultura in Brazil orsomething like that?Jello: It was one or two people fromSepultura and then one or two from RatosDe Porao, the Brazilian hardcore band weput out on Alternative Tentacles and it was-n’t 70,000 people. It might have been, oh,three or four hundred in San Paolo and dou-ble that or more in Rio de Janeiro.Nardwuar: How come Brazilian hardcoreis so cool? Like, that Ratos band is amaz-ing. How come they’re not huger? What’sso great about Brazilian hardcore, JelloBiafra?Jello: Uhhm, with them, they came from atime when just being able to buy instru-ments and play was a real struggle, so a lotof the bands rehearsed playing the sameequipment at different times and the record-ings were in real crude studios, which actu-ally enhanced them, in my opinion, becausethe guitars sounded like an electric razor orsomething and they just went on and grewand have a following and whatnot, but havenot lost their intensity or extreme nature.There’s all sort of wimpy, poppy ways todo punk, and the generic side of hardcore,but when any type of punk is done well, oris as extreme as it’s ever been, or breaks themold, I’m as into it as I ever was and Ratosde Porao do it to the extreme.Nardwuar: Now, speaking of cover bands,guess who’s playing tomorrow night in

Tucson, Arizona, Jello Biafra?Jello: Uhhm, are you hitting at the fakeDead Kennedys that they advertised as areunion and put my picture on the flyer andin the ads to bilk people paying twenty dol-lars American to get in?Nardwuar: Yes I am. What the hell isgoing on there? Brandon Cruz – who doeshave some hardcore cred; he was in Dr.Know – he’s replaced you, Jello Biafra,right?Jello: I don’t know whether you’d call itreplaced or just fronting a really cynical,inept karaoke or cover band who happensto have the same members of DeadKennedys, but have none of the conscious-ness or the soul anymore and their motiva-tion is sheer greed. Apparently, they wereasked in Denver a few nights ago, “What’sthis with Brandon not even bothering tolearn the words?” And they just laughed.Nardwuar: And lyric sheets are falling outof his pocket in Brazil?Jello: Yup.Nardwuar: He didn’t know the lyrics to“Viva Las Vegas.”Jello: Maybe he didn’t care.Nardwuar: Now, I was curious, Jello,regarding the court battle, I read inExclaim! Magazine, a Canadian publica-tion, about how you didn’t make the jurylaugh enough.Jello: I didn’t isolate that statement.Nardwuar: Vale said that.Jello: When there’s people on the otherside of the room trying to wipe out your lifeand things are stacked against you, you canget nervous.Nardwuar: Jello, there’s a book out bySteven Blush called American Hardcoreand in it, it says that you were the first guyto crowd surf.Jello: I don’t know whether if I was or not.I definitely did a lot of stage diving before Ieven had a band, although I wouldn’t call itdiving because Mabuhay Garden stage isonly about a foot and a half off the ground.I don’t know. I mean...Nardwuar: Iggy went into the crowd.Jello: There’s Iggy. There was DarbyCrash. Stiv Bators. Apparently StevenLeckie or Nazi Dog, which ever name hewas using at the time, did that, too.Nardwuar: Of the Viletones – but, did youfloat around the crowd?Jello: Could be.Nardwuar: Rather than just getting heldthere.Jello: Could be.Nardwuar: And in that book, also, there’san interview with Winston Smith, Jello, andhe mentions about how Dead Kennedysgraffiti is actually in a Moscow jail. Wherehave you seen a Dead Kennedys graffiti.Jello: All kinds of places, including partsof people’s bodies that probably shouldn’thave graffiti tattooed on them. I think myfavorite was the people in Live Skull sentme a postcard from some little town inMinnesota and all they could

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put on the postcard to show how wonderfultheir little town was was a photo of an oldtank in the city park and guess what wasspray painted on the tank.Nardwuar: D...Jello: K. And on top of that, I also collectnewspaper clippings of local articles ofmysterious satanic cults where it shows acop or somebody shining a flashlight onsatanic graffiti, and, again, it’s the DKlogo.Nardwuar: And in that book as well, JelloBiafra, and this is kind of a personal thing,but I think you’ve addressed it before,maybe. It mentions that you got a Mercedesor a BMW for a wedding gift? That’s acool gift.Jello: That’s not even true.Nardwuar: What did you get as a gift?Jello: I don’t remember now. My formerwife took them all.Nardwuar: And speaking of “tooking” andtaking – do you know that FrankDiscussion of The Feederz still brags aboutstealing your ex-wife?Jello: Well, as far as I’m concerned, at thispoint, they deserve each other.Nardwuar: Speaking of San Francisco andmarriages and stuff, what were The Vatslike, Jello Biafra? The Vats.Jello: I wasn’t in them much. It was thestomping grounds at one point of MDC,DRI, and many others. A lot of tweakersthere, too. In some places, there wererehearsal spaces.Nardwuar: It was a squat, right?Jello: I think you rented there. I don’t thinkit was strictly a squat, but people did live inold beer vats. They put floors in. No win-dows, no nothing, and everybody fromMDC to Helios Creed had a rehearsal spacethere. There was almost an entire Vat ratcompilation at one point. The darker side

was that it was also a magnet for a lot ofteenage runaways who turn into speedfreaks and things. It had a pretty seedy side,too. And some people didn’t do what theycould have done to discourage that.Nardwuar: Jello, I was searching the inter-net. I’m sure you love questions that arepreambled by that, and I found some web-site that had some story about how HenryRollins melted a rat on you.Jello: Again, this is what happens whenyou exaggerate things on the net. I wascrashing in his apartment one night when Iwent back to DC with DOA after a DeadKennedys east coast tour in ‘81 and he wasstill Henry Garfield then. And when I final-ly fell asleep as the sun was coming up, aroommate took Henry’s late pet rat, whowas in a little milk carton coffin in thefreezer, who was still being mourned, andheld the rat over me and the water started tomelt, so this rat was sort of dripping anddrooling on me when I woke.Nardwuar: Yuck. That was the story. JelloBiafra, who is behind the September 11thterrorist attacks? Who really is behind it?Jello: Paul from The Diamond Center.Nardwuar: What can you tell me about theCarlisle Corporation?Jello: It’s a shadowy little group that buysup failing defense contractors and turns thecompanies around and sells them at a bigprofit and the people on their so-calledboard of advisors includes King GeorgeBush I, one of his old friends and oldDefense Secretary Frank Carlucci, FidelRamos, the old President of the Philippines,James Baker – Bush’s campaign dirty trick-ster who he made Secretary of State. For along time, there was also a substantialinvestment by the Bin Laden family.Nardwuar: Do you lend any credence tostories, such as that kid who crashed that

Cessna into that building in Florida that hecrashed it to draw attention to his dad, whowas a member of the CIA?Jello: I suspect he was a troubled kid,mainly. There’s other ways to do that.Nardwuar: How about war? Is force justi-fied in any means at all, Jello Biafra?Jello: That’s a tough one. It depends on thesituation. I mean, on one hand there’s theargument that people should be left aloneon the other hand, there’s the argument towade in a stop slaughters in places likeBosnia and Kosovo and what we probablyshould have done in Rwanda. Respectingother people’s cultures is well and good,but I draw the line at where some branchesof Islam, what they do to women. It’s inde-fensible.Nardwuar: Jello Biafra, do you lend cre-dence to the story about that this is all foroil again? That Colin Powell knew before –and you discussed a bit of this tonight aboutthe invasion of Afghanistan and set up thiswar – for an oil pipeline.Jello: I don’t know about that. They’vesaid that there’s enough oil underKazakhstan that it’s bigger than the SaudiArabian oil field, but looking at a map – allyou have to do is look at a map and thepipeline theory kind of falls apart becauseyou’d have to put the pipeline through hos-tile territory like Afghanistan, Pakistan,etcetera, to run it to the gulf and the IndianOcean, and you’d have to build it up andover all those Himalayan peaks and if youbuild it going west instead of south, youhave the Caspian Sea and the Black Seaand hostile people there, too, but probablynot on the same scale. I don’t think it’sstrictly about that.Nardwuar: Now, winding up here withJello Biafra, Jello, what do you thinkshould happen to your countrymen, JohnWalker?Jello: Oh, I think he should be onHollywood Squares.Nardwuar: Ba-boom!Jello: How am I supposed to respond tothat?Nardwuar: Ka-boom!Jello: I though you had a different sign off.Nardwuar: No, we’re not quite finishedyet. We’re not that “winded” up yet. I wascurious, what was the longest you’ve spo-ken for your spoken word?Jello: Five hours plus, maybe. I haven’tcaught up with Fidel Castro yet. I’m notsure I should.Nardwuar: I just want to ask you quickly.Your finding records stories. I love thatstory about finding a record in AmoebaRecords in Berkeley. That’s amazing. Inthe washroom of Amoeba. Could you tellthe people about that, Jello Biafra?Jello: Ohh, I was just taking a leak in theBerkeley Amoeba store and stapled to thewall was an original Ike and Tina Turner –really heavy R & B album on Sue Recordsfrom a long time ago. Never seen it before,never saw it again. And I thought, could it

be? And I pushed on it and noticed there wasa disc inside so I thought, I wonder. I don’tmind beat-up records if it’s the only way I canhear the thing. I have two needles for that pur-pose, plus I clean them off pretty good. So Ithought, I wonder if I can talk them out ofthis. So, I went up to the counter with the sta-ples still sticking in there: “Would you sellthis to me?” I think they sold it to me for sixbucks or something, cleaned it up, and it playspretty good.Nardwuar: I loved the way you found thatrecord when you were at a flea market inVancouver and you had that guy Ty rip downthat record. What record was that? Some sortof prog record. Do you remember that one atall?Jello: No.Nardwuar: It was some record that you said,“I want that.” And, sure enough, the recordwas inside of that.Jello: Usually, the records are inside. That ishelpful.Nardwuar: I meant, for decorations, whenpeople put stuff on a wall, it’s unusual thatthey put the record up as well.Jello: Oh, that one. It turned out to be a discoalbum.Nardwuar: Aww, damn. Jello Biafra, what’sthe most you’ve ever paid for a record?Jello: Oh, that’s classified information, butit’s not all that high. I’m a bottom feeder.Nardwuar: And how about exotica? Haveyou thought of singing any exotica? You’vedone hardcore, you’ve done punk. Have yousung any exotica?Jello: Not really. There’s sort of an open offerto work with a guy in Los Angeles who doesbig band and orchestra arrangements who wasat least an acquaintance to Les Baxter beforehe passed away. But, I haven’t really come upwith that kind of material or the time to reallypursue that.

Nardwuar: In that book, AmericanHardcore, they hint that The MiddleClass’ record was possibly the first hard-core record ever. What do you think wasthe first hardcore punk record was?Jello: Either The Middle Class or Soundof Imker Train of Doomsday single inthe late ‘60s in Holland. The only true‘60s hardcore record I know.Nardwuar: Just curious – that picture ofyou and Tammy Faye Baker on theAlternative Tentacles website. Have youjoined the enemy? You are kissingTammy Faye Baker there.Jello: Uh, I think she’s kissing me.Nardwuar: And did the guys fromAgnostic Front ever threaten you?Jello: I got that impression from theirinterviews.Nardwuar: Do you know where NikiSiki of Sick Pleasure is?Jello: I hope he’s not in jail because at

one time he was up on a three strikesoffence, but I hope he got out of that.Nardwuar: And what was that guy youwere referring to tonight? You said he wasfrom a northern California anarchist bandwho had a BMW and a cushy computerjob.Jello: That, I’m keeping quiet on. It’s notanybody you would have known.Nardwuar: Well thanks a lot, Jello Biafra.Really appreciate your time. Anything elseyou’d like to add to the people out there?Jello: Oh, boy.Nardwuar: Why should people care aboutJello Biafra? Why should people care?Jello: That’s for them to answer. I’m notsure I care sometimes.Nardwuar: And lastly, lastly, lastly JelloBiafra, in retrospect, was Governor JerryBrown all that bad?Jello: Well, the ones that came after himcertainly made him look good. He did dosome good things. He also made statementsat the time like, “I’ll move left and right atthe same time. You watch me.” Which he’sdone as mayor of Oakland, now, too. Thestatement that really bothered me at thetime was that people were looking for aleader on a white horse and the strong hintseemed to be that he was that person, and Iwas fresh out of a town that was filled withwhat now would be called new age yuppiesand stuff who were all getting a little toocomfortable and looking for gurus to tellthem what to do and I thought that if apolitician ever grabbed on to that, we werein trouble. Thus, the “California UberAlles” song. When Reagan got in, I real-ized that was much bigger trouble. So,“We’ve Got a Bigger Problem Now” waswritten.Nardwuar: Thanks very much Jello Biafra.Really appreciate the time. Keep on rockin’in the free world and doot doola doot doo...Jello: Ka-boom.(To hear this interview and five other Jello

interviews dating back to 1989, jump overto http:///www.nardwuar.com )

Dan Monick’s

Photo Page

People Watching

I have watched a lot ofbands. Started watching thepeople watching the bands.The bands are pretty good.Sometimes the peoplewatching them are better.

(above) Dillinger Four at abasement show in

Minneapolis.

(right) The Slaves atSpaceland in LA.

20 DOLLAR WHORE: Teenage Fuckin’ Boredom: 7” EPDon’t quite understand the significanceof the Black Panther and Cassius Claypics on the sleeve…. The music is superfuzzed punk rock that’s pretty strong onhooks and drive. Not bad. –JimmyAlvarado (Big Neck)

ADAM WEST: Right On!: CDTestes, testes, one, two, three. This CDhas more conejos than a stag Mexicanbachelor party tour bus! Yikes, I lovemachismo punk if it’s done right, i.e.The Dwarves, GG Allin, The Knack,etc. but Adam West leaves quite a largeamount to be left desired. It’s inane 3chords are played over and over againwith seriously corny guitar yanks (note:use cock rock sparingly). The lyricsspew evolutionary arrested develop-ment, like Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer,if he was defrosted and told to writerock songs. I’d probably liken thisrecord to a man who buys a Porsche –small wee wee, small brain. My lividself has grown tired of this crap, I wantto get up, drink some cheapass SteelReserve malt beverage and shave thenperhaps get in a fight with someonemuch smaller than me. Try, try againboys. –Namella J. Kim (The TelegraphCompany)

AMAZING TRANSPARENTMAN: The Death of the Party: CD Recorded at Sonic Iguana, so you’vegot the classic pop punk sound. Okay.Nothing mind-blowing. When I hearpop punk of this vein, I wanna hear real-ly cool harmonies. Nothing that elabo-rate here. Songs about girls and being ina band. If this were a cereal, it’d beKellogg’s Corn Flakes ‘cause you knowwhat you’re getting here. –Maddy(Springman)

AMDI PETERSENS ARME: Self-titled: 7”I heard a few people tell me and readthat “APA is coming, APA is coming!” Inever heard of them. Where are theyfrom? Copenhagen, Denmark. Whatkind of music do they play? Old schoolpunk that reminded me of Minor Threatmixed with the Big Boys. I got off myfat ass and had to find out what I wasnot aware of. A real raw and low budgetrecorded 7” that reminds me of dayslong gone with the guitars that are bare-ly distorted but forced. Sounds like aclassic from the past available now.–Donofthedead (Kick N’ Punch)

ANTI-FLAG: Mobilize: CDPolitically conscious, melodic hardcoreis a hard thing to pull off. It’s toughbecause it begs the question: how canyou take an angry cry for revolution andturn it into a catchy song? Several bandshave tried it. Very few have done it well.You can almost count the good ones onone hand: Good Riddance, StrikeAnywhere, Kid Dynamite,Propaghandhi, and, of course, Anti-Flag. Anti-Flag has been pulling thissound off for years, now, and their lastalbum, Underground Network, is proba-bly their best so far. So when I saw that

they were releasing

Mobilize – which has eight new songsand eight live versions of previouslyreleased songs – so soon after havingreleased Underground Network, I won-dered if they’d put the time and thoughtinto this that they’d put into their previ-ous albums. Listening to the first eightsongs, though, convinced me that thiswasn’t a throwaway album. Mobilizedoesn’t seem to be a collection of songsthat were left off of they’re last albumbecause they weren’t good enough to goon it. It seems like Anti-Flag has justbeen paying attention to a lot of thefucked up things that have been goingon lately, so they wrote some powerfulsongs to discuss these fucked up things.And, again, it works. The revolution isstill fun to sing along with. Long liveAnti-Flag. As a special bonus, too, thisCD comes with an A-F Records sam-pler. You get a taste of some of the morepopular bands on that label, likePipedown and The Unseen, but the sam-pler also has a lot of stuff from theirlesser known bands. Among myfavorites were the two songs byThought Riot and the two songs byWhatever It Takes. The big surprise,though, was the Voids song at the end ofthe sampler. All of the bands that comebefore the Voids have releases on A-FRecords. The Voids, though, aren’t onany label. As far as I know, they onlyhave one seven inch out. But the lasttime I saw them play, they had enoughoriginal material for a full-length. Couldthis mean that the Voids are gonnarelease a full-length with A-F? If theVoids are gonna release a full-length,can I start getting excited about it now?–Sean Carswell (A-F)

ANTISEEN: Screamin’ Bloody Live: video-enhanced CDWhat we have here is the latest sonicassault of roarin’, rootin’-tootin’Antiseen fury! It’s loud, live, violent,and brutal; fuelled by a barrel full ofJack Daniels and a washtub brimmingwith homemade meth. This is the audi-tory equivalent of a monster truck rally,Armageddon, and a pro-wrestling tag-team match between Godzilla,Gigantor, King Kong, and Satan him-self! Antiseen pack an explodin’ cannonball’s wrath of frenetic unrelenting

aggression into this performance, and itsounds uncannily like a ragtag troop ofConfederate forces shelling the fuckoutta a garrison of blue-bellied Yankeesons-of-bitches. Indeed, if this crazedquartet of rough’n’rowdy good ol’ boyshad been fighting alongside theirJohnny Reb brethren during the CivilWar, we’d all be full-fledged card-car-ryin’ members of the Confederacy ofScum right about now. Yeeeeehaw,motherfuckers, Antiseen are the undis-puted ragin’ aural warriors of the NewSouth! Kiddies, beware: this dastardlylil’ disc is definitely not for lily-liveredpolitically correct pussies. If you unfor-tunately fall into that category, go playsome of your cuddly-sweet emo musicand drown your putrid lil’ miseries in abig ol’ glass of latte. Amen and a-bur-rrrrppp… –Roger Moser, Jr. (TKO)

AUTHORITY. THE: The Fight: 7”Oi-inflected 77 punk. The B-side, “TheEnd,” is the better of the two trackshere, with a pretty good hook. Betterthan I thought it was gonna be. –JimmyAlvarado (77 RPM)

BAD RELIGION: The Process of Belief: CDI must regretfully confess: I haven’tpurchased (or even heard) any of BadReligion’s auditory output since 1996’sThe Gray Race. Although it was a fairlyrobust release, I felt that Mr. Graffin andcompany were mellowing with age.They just seemed to be lacking the fer-vent energetic conviction of their earlierreleases. But what the hell, we all unfor-tunately tend to lose our youthful zealfor life the older we become, so I surelycannot judge one of my all-time favoritebands on the merits of nature’sinevitable aging process alone. Withthat said, my ears are downright tickleddelirious by this latest Bad Religionoffering of inimitable melodic mastery.As soon as the first addictive track,“Supersonic,” frantically kicked intohigh gear, I was immediately enthralled,enchanted, and delighted by BadReligion’s splendiferous return to top-notch aural originality. The perfectlycrafted songs fluctuate from acoustic-layered maturity to melodiously fren-

zied kineticism – lyrically articulate,intricately structured, and sporadicallyraging with all-out passionate fury. Yes,indeed, Bad Religion have aged welland matured gracefully. These impecca-bly pristine anthems of the 21st centuryare proof-positive that the ultimate inlife’s cultivation often comes with time.–Roger Moser, Jr. (Epitaph)

BANTAM ROOSTER:Mexican Leather: 7”I can imagine the flipside “Summer inHamtramck” on the soundtrack to a JimJarmusch film. It’s dirty, sensual, andimmoral. The guitars ooze all kind ofsexy love juice while the poundingrhythms collide into an orgasmic explo-sion. Oh, oh, the sax, don’t forget thebig sax, slithering an improvisationalburst in the midst of the song. “Harder,harder,” she said as she flipped the discover and haphazardously slammed theneedle down while trying not to breakfrom the beat of her “music apprecia-tion.” The primitive drums kick off“Mexican Leather” and the sloppy wetguitar slide back and forth, back andforth the long, hard, wooden neck of hisguitar. He screamed into her ears, loudand clear, the intense gratification hefelt during the song. She sighed, lit acigarette, and called her boyfriend aftershe heard this single because she feltstrangely guilty. –Namella J. Kim (Big Neck)

BETTY RAGE: Self-titled: CDWahooooo, motherfuckers! Betty Ragesure do know how to raucously kick itinto high gear with the utmost of sinfulsonic sizzle! This is devilish, booze-fuelled auditory hedonism at its mostanimated, boisterous, and rambunc-tiously unrestrained. Hell yeh, imaginethe Supersuckers as an inbred back-woods clan of toothless, cross-eyedhucksters tanked-up on moonshinewhiskey, tobacco spit, and Tabasco-laced pork rinds. It’s trashed-out rock-’n’roll evilness with a rip-snortin’,truck-drivin’ rockabilly edge! Damnshootin’, this here purty lil’ platter ofdemented musical sassiness is the liveli-est and sleaziest shit-kickin’ hootenannythat my ears have ever yet attended.Yeeeeehaw, pass them pork’n’beans anda couple of cold brews on over to ol’Rog, ‘cause I’m more’n ready to passgas and burp up a storm in perfect har-mony with Betty Rage. –Roger Moser, Jr. (Betty Rage)

BODIES, THE: Firepower Is Our Business: 12” EPCoulda swore Vulture Rock had someties with shadier elements of the “baldand Caucasian is beautiful” crowd.Anyway, you know the drill when itcomes to these guys: great songs withlotsa drive and “oomph,” great vocalsand lotsa parts you can sing along to.On that criteria alone, this is worth yertime. Lyrically, though, the Americanpride/flag-wavin’ stuff kinda rubs methe wrong way. I mean what exactly arewe talkin’ about being proud of here?The land? I can go along with that. Thepeople? Fine. The government, which1.) thrives on stealing land from otherpeople, 2.) loves sending young malepeople off to kill and be killed so that afraction of the people left (the rich, oldmale people more specifically) can have

...this is like a big thick concrete slab tobuild your own personal torture chamber on.

-Cuss Baxter

70

Underground Medicine Mailorder, Conneticut

Top 40 7”s

Underground musicwouldn�t be half asinteresting without

little slabslike these.

These are the top 7�ssince the last mag.

1. The Eat, God Punishes (*****)

3. Mud City Manglers, I Wanna Kill My Friends (Rep of Chersterfield)

5. Shrinks, My Mind's Gone (Radio)

7. Briefs, She's Abrasive (Dirtnap)

2. Teenage Rejects, Teen Trash Vol 2 (Alien Snatch)

4. Radio Reelers, Radio Feelin (Zaxon Virile Action)

6. Briefs, Love and Ulcers (Dirtnap)

9. Kill-a-watts/Catholics Boys (Electrorock)

11. Jewws, I Need Your Lovin (Alien Snatch)

13. Dixie Buzzards, Save It for Me (Therapeutic)

15. Leghounds, Prisoner of Love (Alien Snatch)

10. Okmoniks, Take a Spin with (In-Fi)

12. Mistreaters, No More (Goodbye Boozy)

14. Nazi from Mars/Foreheads, split (Raw Suger)

17. Pushers/Homoplastik (Eat Me)

20. Dirtbombs, Ode to a Black Man (Sweet Nothing)

1. Nausea, New Generation (Freed For Freaks)

16. Fuses, High Rate of Speed (Incognito)

18. One Man Show, It Don't Matter (Call & Response)

2. Lube, Music of Chance (Revenge)3. Bonecrusher, For Your Freedom (77 RPM)4. Zeke, Rock & Roll Catastrophe (Black Lung)

17. Rocket 455, Cross-Eyed (Get Hip)18. X, Home Is Where The Floor Is (RockNRoll Blitzkrieg)19. Les Sexareenos, We Gonna Ball (Corduroy)20. Mistreaters, No More (Goodbye Boozy)

5. BellRays, Suicide Baby (No Tomorrow)6. Tyrades, Detonation (Big Neck)7. Hellacopters, High Visibility (Get Hip)8. Piranhas, Garbage Can (Tom Perkins)

9. Skulls, Life Ain't So Pretty (Headline)10. Fu Manchu, Don't Bother Knockin (Elastic)11. Starvations, Shut-Up Sirens (Vinyl Dog)12. Flash Express, Who Stole The Soul (Revenge)13. Hives, Hate to Say I Told You So (Gearhead)14. Numbers, Letters (Stereodrive)15. Negatives, Wanna See What You Got (Hostage)16. Clone Defects, Bottled Women (Tom Perkins)

8. Mighty John Waynes, She Get's Dirty (100% Dirt)

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

more stuff than their great-great-grand-children will ever need and 3.) system-atically lies about damn near everythingit does? Whoa, we have a problemthere, Sparky. Save that nonsense forsomeone who actually believes what hehears on the corporate 6 o’clock news.–Jimmy Alvarado (Vulture Rock)

BOMBSITE BOYS: Top Hits: 7” EPA little bit o’ somethin’ for everybodyhere: a little bit o’ ‘60s jangle, a little bito’ ‘70s power pop, a little bit o’ punk.Kinda reminiscent of those ‘70s bandsthat liked skirting the fine line betweenmod and punk. Not bad at all. –JimmyAlvarado (Myopic)

BOTTLES & SKULLS: I AmNo One, He Is No One: 7”Motherfuckin’ hell, this is some of thehardest hittin’, most maniacal rock-’n’roll fury to ever relentlessly attackmy auditory senses! B&S sound uncan-nily like a deranged scientist’s experi-mental mutation of Black Flag, earlySuicidal Tendencies, Jesus Lizard, anda fiery life-annihilating nuclear holo-caust. It’s the ultimate brain-bruisingmusical maelstrom, folks! Now ifyou’ll please excuse me, I’ve gotta rushmyself to the nearest emergency roomso the doctors can hopefully alleviatethe profuse bleeding in my ears beforeI’m fuckin’ drained dry. Thanks a lot,B&S. –Roger Moser, Jr. (TKO)

BOTTLES AND SKULLS:Never Kiss the Wasp: CDThis was a hard CD for me to review.First, ‘cause I’m retarded. But mostlybecause this band is hard to pigeonhole.The foundation of their sound isgrounded in garage style rock’n’roll.Throw in the best aspects of hardcoreand street punk and spit this out on fast,loud, skillfully played guitars that con-stantly switch things up and alwaysleaves you wanting more. This isBottles and Skulls. You don’t knowwhat to expect next from them exceptthat it will knock you upside yourfuckin’ head. The lyrics are pretty basicstream of consciousness ramblingsabout drinking, girls and just being anall around bad ass. This goes well withtheir sound. Check them out. –Toby (Cheetah’s)

BOX THE COMPASS: Run the Easting Down: CDEgads! Emo! Emo! Take it out! Make itstop! –Jimmy Alvarado (Substandard)

BRACKET: Live in a Dive: CDDuh, I didn’t think this was a liverelease. –Donofthedead (Fat)

BRIAN JAMES MEETSFLATPIG: New Rose 2001:CDFormer Damned dude revisits two oftheir “hits” (the title track and “NeatNeat Neat”) and another track I knownothing about so I assume is a newercomposition. Musically, this is on tar-get, sounding like a dead-on update ofthe sound the Damned achieved ontheir first album, all slash, stutter andswagger. The vocals, though…well,let’s just say there was a reason that

Dave Vanian was the singer. –JimmyAlvarado (Boss Tuneage)

BRIEFS, THE: She’s Abrasiveb/w Like a Heart Attack: 7”To be a self-contrarian, I tell myself TheBriefs really can’t be this good. I’lleven convince myself of that time totime, until I pop one of their records onthe turntable. Fuck it. They’re great.They continue to rule. This single ripsthe Buzzcocks a new asshole and feedsit back to Pete Shelley, buffet-style, inpenance for the last three albums the‘Cocks put out. The Briefs continuetheir legacy of fun, poppin’, waveypunk that isn’t afraid to glorify the bestof the late ‘70s/ early ‘80s and make itbetter than a lot of the originals. Greatstuff. –Todd (Dirtnap)

BURDEN OF LIFE: Self-titled: LPGorgeous wax, terrible noise/hard-core/metal to go with it. Buy, place onyour wall as a decorative objet d’art,but under no circumstances should youplay this. –Jimmy Alvarado (AttentionDeficit Disorder)

BUSINESS, THE: Hell 2 Pay: CD EPWell, if it ain’t the original godfathersof oi in all of their menacing cockneyglory! It’s been several topsy-turvyyears since I’ve acquired anything newfrom these mean and nasty psychopath-ic hooligans, and I’m damn sorry Ihaven’t been more attentive as to theirrecent attitude-driven output. This isboot-stompin’, bottle-smashin’ pub-punk bravado at its nostalgic best, thekind of musical maliciousness thatinspires a man to drunkenly stumblethrough the cobblestone streets of hishometown late at night with his closestmates by his side boisterously singingan old Irish ditty or two. “Hell 2 Pay” isa ferocious metal-tinged screamer(think of Motorhead as oi street-scruffagitators, why don’t ya!), and the othertwo tit-twistin’ tunes, “Gangland” and“Do Anything You Wanna Do” (anEddie & The Hotrods original), areprime sing-a-long examples of mid-tempo pub-prowlin’ rockers. It just goesto show: some things do indeed get bet-ter with age. The Business are moresonically stout than ever! –RogerMoser, Jr. (TKO)

CARRION: Self-titled: 7” EPPart Sabbath sludge, part hardcore, andit has a weird wobbly quality to it,which adds a sense of uneasiness to theproceedings. Do I like it? Dunno. All Iknow is that it makes me a little uneasyfor some reason. –Jimmy Alvarado(Lysergic Soul Drain)

CIRIL: Huntington Cliffs: 7” EPThis starts out mighty fruity, much likethe Pennywise piano solo that JackGrisham did at the end of Full Circle,but I won’t complain, due to the factthat both were dedicated to people whocommitted suicide. There are a lot offamiliar Southern California touch-stones in Ciril – hints and wisps, notoutright thievery. I hear guitar snatchesof Shattered Faith (desperate and tre-

bly), Agent Orange (the surfy under-tones in “The Grip”), and the youthfuldamn-it-all-ness of the Adolescentsover breaths of Hammond organ. I cantotally appreciate it. They’re definitelytrying to expand a long-revered andemulated sound, but perhaps sincethey’re all longer songs that tend to draga little in the middle, I don’t find myselfflat-out floored or totally enthralled. It’sdefinitely fine music, but it’s missing acertain cohesion or tightness (musically,not instrumentally) from making meshit myself. Worth watching out for inthe future, though. –Todd (Headline)

CLASS ASSASSINS, THE: No Justice… No Peace: 7”This is European-style street punk witha frenetic, melodic edge. It’s a catchyand captivating foot-stompin’ auralromp that includes a rousing upbeatoriginal (“No Justice…”) and an up-tempo punk rock cover of “One TinSoldier” (the theme song from the clas-sic hippy flick, “Billy Jack”). Indeed,this is a sonically riveting 7” throughoutboth sides, and I feel wholeheartedlycompelled to fervently recommend it toyou all. –Roger Moser, Jr. (Insurgence)

CLITCOPS, THE: The Harder They Cum: CDThis is angry, vile, vulgar, and ven-omous rock’n’roll thunder-roar from asick, twisted, and seedy skull-pummel-ing perspective! It’s wild, primitive, pri-mal, and raging auditory deviance loud-ly overloaded with full-throttle bowery-punk sonic self-abuse! Damn straight,these sadistically blistering songs are aberserk fitful whirlwind of sexuallydemented musical mayhem that frac-tured my skull, imploded my internalorgans, singed my flesh, and curdled myblood. I will never piss a straight lineagain. I’ll no longer sugar-coat thickwads of snot before thunkin’ it directlyfrom my alcohol-worn esophagus intothe aghast, wide-open eyes of authority.I’ll never, ever aspire to be anythingmore than a disastrously drunk, sexual-ly perverse, swaggerin’-proud, standin’-tall sonuvabitch, thanks to the soul-stab-bin’, gut-stompin’ sounds of this deca-dently divine disc! Yes, it’s inherentlyobvious: The ClitCops have sonicallypossessed my soul. –Roger Moser, Jr.(Intensive Scare)

CLOCKED IN: Tied to the Mast: CDThis is fast, furious, and hard-hittin’punkrock unruliness with a slight bit ofa crunchy metal edge to it (think athrashin’ Hot Water Music crossed withthe Rollins Band on meth steroids). It’spacked to the gills with such freneticraging fury that my knees uncontrol-lably knocked together, my teeth fright-fully chattered like a speed-addledskeleton, and the hair on the back of myneck stood straight on end after just onelisten. Then I had the sudden com-pelling urge to madly leap around theroom and repeatedly smash my headinto the walls while the brutally blister-ing sounds of Clocked In noisily blaredoutta my stereo speakers over and overand over again. Even though I’m nowbloodied, battered, and bruised beyondrecognition, I just can’t get enough of

this ferociously spectacular sonicslaughterhouse. I’ll see you in the pit,kiddies. –Roger Moser, Jr. (Radical)

CONFLICT: Now You’ve PutYour Foot in It: CDEPNow here is a band that I used to loveback in the mid ‘80s. I think I havealmost every release they put out up tothe point of them breaking up. I got tosee one of only three shows that theyplayed in 1984 in the USA and hung outwith them most of the day they were inLA. I heard many rumors that thesinger, Colin, became a soccer hooliganand rave promoter after the band dis-banded. I saw them last year perform ontheir second US tour and came awaywith mixed feelings as I thought about itmore. I know their ideology was impor-tant to me back in the day. But seeingthem was just not the same as seeingthem in their heyday and hanging outwith them. They seemed like they weregoing through the motions and did notfeel genuine. The same goes here. Itdoes not compare with their great EPsand LPs of the past, like Increase thePressure. The two studio songs here fol-low the formula of songs past but thatdoes not translate to the same energy.Not that it’s not a good listen but it justdoes not compare to their classics. Thetwo live tracks are throwaways. It’stheir attempt at playing reggae. I foundit boring. Conflict fans new and old willfind it worth the purchase though for thestudio tracks. Before I got this copy, Ireceived an email newsletter fromConflict saying that they want people toboycott and not purchase the licensedreleases from Go Kart. The reasons theycited were bad communication with thelabel and not following their instruc-tions regarding artwork on this release,which led to their removal of theirlicenses. Since it’s out there, you decidewho you want to support. You can eitherbuy this from Conflict’s longtime labelMotorhate (<www.conflict.org.uk>) ordomestically through Go Kart. Youhave a right to choose! –Donofthedead(Go Kart)

COOKIE: Sweat-Soaked and Satisfied: CDThis was a surprise ’cause I half-expect-ed it to suck. Some dang tasty, occa-sionally country twinged, rock/punk,very heavy on the rock, that falls some-where between Texas Terri and DeepPurple, which explains the cover of“Highway Star.” Though this band isdancing on a very thin wire where anymisstep could send them tumbling intoan abyss rapidly filling with somemighty shitty bands, they manage topull it all off and come up with onemighty nice piece of work.Recommended if this type of stuff isyour bag. –Jimmy Alvarado (Infect)

CRIPPLERS, THE: One Morefor the Bad Guys: CDFun, fast, and loud rock’n’roll with asouthern tinge. Very cool shit here.Their adrenaline level and attitude setsthem apart from many other bands inthe same genre. They do not disappoint.–Toby (Dionysus)

CRISPUS ATTUCKS/DE NADA: Split: 7”This was supposed to be a CrispusAttucks/Voorhees split but the Voorheeshad to back out. De Nada who replacesthem are a short-lived band from the DCoutreachs that played around ‘97 to2000. Crispus Attucks gives you fourhardcore numbers to sink your teethinto. If you haven’t heard anything bythem before, you need to. They areessentially, in my opinion, one oftoday’s bands that is keeping the hard-core flame alive. Vocals are throaty butscreamed. The music brings you up anddown with their mixture of fast andmid-tempo. De Nada, on the other hand,is grind/thrash/metal/noise. Distraughtis the mood I feel here but they do havea sense of humor. Their side is all overthe place. Cool old skateboard photos ofMark Gonzalez and Chris Miller on thecover. –Donofthedead (Vendetta)

DAYGLO ABORTIONS: Feed Us a Fetus: CDI have never heard this band’s musicbefore but I know they have beenaround a while. They have an classicpunk sound out of the ‘80s. Reminds meof early Black Flag mixed with someearly Guttermouth. Early as in whenthose bands were good. The only thingwrong with this CD is that while listen-ing to it, you can pick out a shitload ofobvious guitar riffs stolen from manypopular rock and metal songs. It’s verypeculiar. Is this their usual schtick?Someone please let me know. If not, Iwould definitely by more of their music.–Toby (Beer City)

DEAD ENDS, THE: Self-titled: CDThese Aussie punks play songs reminis-cent of the Ramones – End of theCentury Phil Spector experiment, onlylouder and faster, which is another wayof saying they sound just like vintageQueers. Fun, fast, friendly, and forget-table. –Money (Rabbit)

DEAD INSIDE: No. 4: CDSomething about this reminds me ofB’last, but not in a dated way – soundsplenty modern. Insistent skin paddlingvies for the lead spot with the chunkyguitar. I’ve tried to cut down on my useof the word “emo,” but let’s just say thelyrics are of a decidedly personalnature. I’ll let it slide this time. -CussBaxter (Firefly Recordings)

DEATH RAY DAVIES, THE:Without a Trace: 7”The A-side is a nice piece of jangly,slightly gloomy college pop. The B-side, though, sucks pretty hard. –JimmyAlvarado (Has Anyone Ever Told You)

DHARMAKAYA: Faces M’boro, TN 11/20/01 –Live Bootleg #1: CD-R and The End 01/12/02 – Live Bootleg #2: CD-RDamn, these native sons of Nashvilleenergetically churn-out new auditoryreleases as often as I giddily cut loosewith a rapid-fire succession of volcani-cally disruptive farts! I’ve now receiveda grand total of four different

Dharmakaya discs during the past tenmonths, and my ears are still as recep-tive and enthused as ever regarding thegaragey alt-rock liveliness of thisTennessee combo. Even though thesound quality is questionable (muddy,murky, and muffled… these are live“bootleg” recordings, after all!), theband’s genuine devotion to their musi-cal craft is as blatantly obvious as a two-dollar whore’s crack habit! For therecord, I recommend the second CDmore than the first. The mix is clearerand more evenly toned, plus the guitarsare delightfully drenched in a colorful,thick coating of fuzz effects. Either way,Dharmakaya ecstatically perform forthe audience as if they’re takin’ ‘em fora ride on a rocket-propelled roller coast-er through a booze-soaked sinner’stheme park. So if ya like spirited bar-room rock’n’roll that’s perfectly athome in an out-of-control atmosphereof sloppy-drunk rowdiness, then getyour grubby lil’ mitts on these here twodiscs, and let the good times roll wherethey may… –Roger Moser, Jr. (Spat!)

DILLINGER FOUR:Situationist Comedy: CDI can’t fucking believe how good thisalbum is. I know you read a zine likeRazorcake and think, man, there’s somany good albums out there, so manygood bands, but are there any essentialalbums? Any albums that I just have tohave? The answer is yes. You have tohave this album. Imagine walkingthrough the snow on a wet, windy dayand no amount of bundling up can keepthe cold out. The cold just seems likeit’s going right through you. Right intoyour bones. Now, imaging that cold ismusic, and it’s a good thing. That’s whatlistening to Situationist Comedy is like.I wasn’t sure how much I’d like it. Sure,I’m a huge D4 fan. I love their first full-length, Midwestern Songs of theAmericas. I still listen to it a lot. When Ifirst got it, I had to pace myself. I fig-ured, if I listen to this album every timeI want to listen to it, I’ll get sick of it.I’ll ruin the album for myself. So I con-trolled myself, and that album hasalways been close to a CD player ofmine since it came out in 1998. D4released This Shit Is Genius a year later.And that shit was genius. I had to pacemyself again. But I also have to admitthat, once I got used to hearing ThisShit, I started reaching for MidwesternSongs more often. It was still myfavorite. Then, D4 put out Versus Godin 2000, and, if you ask me, they won. Itwas another amazing album. But, again,after I got used to hearing Versus God,Midwestern Songs took back the lead asmy favorite D4 album. Shortly beforeSituationist Comedy came out, I listenedto Midwestern Songs and wondered ifD4 could possibly top that album. Now,I think they may have topped it.Situationist Comedy takes all the ele-ments that make D4 a great band: theinfusion of four musicians going nutsbut keeping everything together, theability to seamlessly and perpetuallyfuck with the tempo of a song, and theperfect balance of Eric’s poppy vocals,Billy’s gruff hardcore vocals, andPaddy’s is-he-really-singing-in-a-punk-band-like-that? Irish tenor. Beyond that,they seem to be growing up as a band.They play together sowell. It’s like every 73

note, every riff, every symbol crash isintricately woven to keep the song fromunraveling. There’s a constant tensionand release in every song. And above itall are some fucking awesome lyrics.After listening to the album about adozen times, I got sick of trying to singalong with words I didn’t know, so I satdown with the lyric sheet and read alongwith the songs. I realized that theselyrics are gonna be quoted in nearlyevery fanzine in the US for the next twoor three years. These guys keep tacklingtheir common religious and politicalthemes, but this album adds one morewrinkle – the songs about how the forty-hour-week, work-until-you-retire, iden-tify-yourself-by-your-job mindset ofour society is sucking out our soul. Andit all comes together at the end in whatis probably the most powerful D4 songyet, “New Punk Fashions for the SpringFormal,” driving forward to the lastline, “Where’s the do or die? It’s staringyou in the eye.” Then the album endsand I get to my only complaint aboutthis CD: I don’t know what to do withmyself when it’s over. –Sean Carswell (Fat)

DIRTY SWEETS, THE:Bubblegum Damaged: CDRip Off Records seems to love trashyrock’n’roll that sounds like it’s tearingup your speakers, no matter how goodyour speakers are or how loud the musicis. The Dirty Sweets fit right in. Theyhave a blown-out garage sound thatreminds me of the Motards or the RipOffs themselves, but when you factor inThe Dirty Sweets’ female vocalist, withall her snottiness and attitude, and it’shard not to compare them to Loli andthe Chones. So this album and thissound is nothing new or groundbreak-ing, but it’s fun as hell and definitelyworth a listen. –Sean Carswell (Rip Off)

DISCONTENT: Shot Down: CDEPA high water mark was made withDiscontent’s Who Killed Vinyl 7” a cou-ple years back. It is, bar none, of the offinest examples of true-grit workingclass punk the United States has evermade. Shit you not. The six songs onShot Down follow suit. They doesn’t letup and kick you in the ass so hard rightoff the bat that you’ll be puking up thelaces later in the week. What’s impres-sive is how hard they sound withoutbeing explicitly macho, and without theslightest hint of metal. Conviction, per-haps? Because they’re taking elementsthat seem to be at the disposal of almostany band, the power comes from tittytwisting them until everything’s on theedge of breaking: the strings, the drumheads, the stereo, your ears. Totallyworth your time. –Todd (Hostage)

DISCOUNT: Singles #1: CDFor a while, when I was living inFlorida, it seemed like Discount playedat every show I went to. It wasn’t that Iwas hunting them down, necessarily.They were just the only good, activeband in the area at the time. Theyalways tipped the scales for me. I’d beindecisive about checking out a show,but see that Discount was on the bill andfigure, well, at least Discount will begood. Now it’s hard for me to decide ifthey were really that good of a band, or

if their music just brings back goodmemories. I’ve heard two basic criti-cisms of them: that Alison sometimessounds like she’s nagging when shesings, and that they don’t have enoughof a separation between music andvocals. I can understand the criticism.Neither of these things bother me. I likethe way Alison sings. I don’t feelnagged. And, it’s true that the songsmight be better if there were moreinstrumental parts. The music is power-ful. It builds and releases a lot of ten-sion. At times, I wish the focus wasmore on that music and less on thesinging along. But, really, all that meansis that I want more. And is wantingmore really a criticism, anyway? So thisis a collection of their early singles,stuff they released in ’95 and ’96. Theydefinitely grew a lot as a band after ’96,and they got a lot better on their lateralbums. Still, their early stuff has a sin-cerity and energy to it that I really enjoy.I’m glad they re-released all of thesesongs. –Sean Carswell (New American Dream)

DISTILLERS, THE: Sing Sing Death House: CDThe Distillers have once again put out aCD I can’t stop listening to. This one isa bit harder than their first (which is stillon high rotation here). This is kick-assfemale fronted punk rock. It’s catchybut not poppy. Some of my friends havelistened to them and were surprisedwhen I told them a girl was singing. Shehas a great voice. For those unaware,the singer is Brody Armstrong, Timfrom Rancid’s wife. They give Rancid(when at their best) a run for theirmoney. She also happens to be one ofthe hottest girls in punk. I felt like ateenager in heat when I saw them live. Ithink I have a crush. Anyways, theyactually sound great too. Do yourself afavor and listen to this band. (aside: forBrody fans, you can find a poster of herin the new Hellcat comp.) Damn, I feellike I should be reading Teen Beat.Fuck. –Toby (Hellcat)

DMZ: Live at the Rat: CDMonoman Jeff Connelly is a demi-god.He’s still rocking after all these years.Time, drugs, and plain human dramahas not been able to stop this man. Ifyou went to the last Shakedown, you’dknow exactly what I’m getting at. DMZis still alive and I hope they get a chanceto play around more before they reallycall it an end. OK, in case you have noidea what I’m talking about, those right-eous people at Bomp Records want youto hear and fully understand the powerof DMZ. Boston in the mid ‘70s had amicrocosm of bands who played localbars/ restaurants such as Cantone’s andThe Rat. DMZ played in front of enthu-siastic crowds and although they did notcontain any record executives yet, theywere making history and garnering sta-tus as a band whose influences wouldtouch other musicians through the hallsof time. At the time, no one would haveguessed the wiser, according to fellowBostonian, Real Kid John Felice whorecanted those days. Well, DMZ eventu-ally did get signed and released a terrif-ic rock album, but alas, the world wasjust not ready to rock when they had theinsolent luxury of Walter Murphy’sDiscosymphonic and DMZ fizzled

away. Not for long though, becausedeep in the hearts of rock fans every-where, they still held a torch for thesepunk rock titans. They passed theflames to younger generations who eas-ily become rabid DMZ-philes. DMZ isa mixture of the best sixties garagepunk, soul, and basic American rock-’n’roll. They covered the best fuckingsongs and gave them their own signa-ture sound. I don’t have to tell you to getthis album because you probably have itby now. If you don’t, what the fuck areyou waiting for? Now if only peoplewould pay attention to The Customs,too. –Namella J. Kim (Bomp!)

DOC HOPPER/EL SECOND-HAND: Please Send Help: CDDoc Hopper: maybe I’m feelin’ a littlesoft or somethin’, but their tracksweren’t as painful as I expected them tobe. Their sole original here, “Meister,”was a pretty nice melding of All-litedrive and vaguely Hüsker structure, andtheir cover of “Kids Don’t Follow” wasgood, if not as intense as the original.The cover of Black Flag sucked, butthat’s just ’cause the song itself suckedto begin with. “South of Heaven” wasfinely executed, but still pales to theoriginal. Secondhand: They didn’t leaveas positive an impression. Their originalwas not as memorable and their covers,although perfectly executed (especiallythe Slayer tracks) lacked any sense ofimmediacy and, ultimately rang hollow.Maybe next time. –Jimmy Alvarado(Attention Deficit Disorder)

DROPSKOTS, THE: Self-titled: CDBy-the-numbers modern poppy hard-core. They’re fast, tight and have all therequisite parts to ensure they’ll becomehuge radio stars, but I still lost interestby the third song. –Jimmy Alvarado(King Bee)

DUANE PETERS AND THE HUNNS: Wayward Bantams: CDThe mighty, outspoken, tattooed one isback with a vengeance in all of hisdisheveled, snaggle-toothed glory! Onthis here skull-pummeling platter ofraging punkrock fury, Duane Peters andhis maniacal band of thuggish noise-mongers ballistically blaze through aflesh-scorchin’ swirl of sonic unrulinessthat quickly crumbled the infrastructureof my house and completely leveled itto the ground! I shit you not, these fero-ciously spectacular songs slash straightfor the jugular like a freshly sharpenedstraight-edged razor being violentlywielded by a deranged, psychopathicmadman. The lyrics are humorouslysentimental (“Dog Bowl Love”),descriptively disturbing (“Canker Soreof Greenwich St.”), venomously vitri-olic (“War of the Worlds”… a well-deserved Duane-style tirade against acertain despicable bin Laden ass-wart!),heartfelt and harrowing (“Jet 757”… ahorrific, realistic account of thehijacked jet that crashed in the ruralPennsylvania countryside on September11th), and uncannily observant of themiserable circumstances facing theunfortunate and desperate rejects of ourso-called civilized society (“HoboJungle” and “Dead Man Talking”). My

personal auditory favorites containedherein include “Surf Sacrifice,”“Wayward Bantams,” and “ForeverAfter” (a hilarious California-style Sid-and-Nancy story on which dastardlyDuane loudly duets with Texas Terri!).By far, this is one of the most energeti-cally inspired discs that’s yet laid wasteto my eardrums, and it’s hands-downsome of the liveliest working-classmusic ever conceived. –Roger Moser, Jr. (Disaster)

DWARVES: How to MakeFriends and Influence People: CDIt’s the raucously demented Dwarves,so you can assuredly expect some of themost psychotic, decadent, and perverserock’n’roll noise ever put to tape! Thisis a killer-crazed collection of re-record-ed Dwarves classics (includin’ “Let’sFuck,” “Anybody Out There?” [my per-sonal all-time fave!], “Saturday Night,”“Detention Girl,” “Dairy Queen,” andseveral others) and a furiously smokin’smattering of new material, as well. Inmy humbly inebriated opinion, it all fre-netically sounds like the Ramonesmaniacally payin’ homage to theDwarves while jubilantly doin’ thecretin hop in the basement of a lunaticasylum. Hell yeh, it’s that damn spastic,upbeat, and savagely intense!Rock’n’roll just doesn’t get any moreviolent, destructive, and criminallyinsane than this. –Roger Moser, Jr.(Reptilian)

END ON END/LIFE IN PICTURES: Split 7” EPGreat packaging. Silk-screened sleeve,hand-stamped vinyl, translucent paperinsert, limited to 300. End on End:Completely took me by surprise when Isaw them live. Andy’s a frontman whoknows how to work a crowd, go aggro,but never hit anyone who didn’t want toget hit. I was less than impressed bytheir Headline single, but they’velearned their lessons well. As they arelive, the two songs here are punchy,dynamic, sweaty, and most importantly,don’t sound like a Rites of Springreunion tour. What’s immediately obvi-ous on this recording is how tightlywound yet well composed the songs are.They’re both gruff and huffy, yet expan-sive – somewhere between hardcore andemo, but not in a pussy or shitty way.Life in Pictures: Crank up the screamodial, tap into some metal licks, slow itdown, get all moist, drop a tear on theirshoes, then go back to yelling.Tough/tender guy stuff that’s a hardersell for me. –Todd (Coldbringer)

EPOXIES: Self-titled: CDI was quite excited when I saw the coverof this CD. Cool band photo, black andwhite, with a very new wave/Rezilloslook to it. And the sound is of the key-board/new wave punk persuasion. MoreRezillos fashion influence than musicinfluence. Girl and boy vocals. And theyhave cool, Rezillos-esque names likeRoxy Epoxy, Viz Spectrum, and KidPolymer! (Question: How many timescan I write “Rezillos” in a non-Rezillosreview? Answer: A lot!) Pretty decent! Ijust wish the songs were more catchy. Ifthat happens, I could imagine their nextalbum being great! If

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this were a cereal, it’d be Kix. Good!–Maddy (Dirtnap)

EXECRADORES/SIN DIOS: Split: LPThis was originally released in 1998 onEsperanza Records on CD. Now a vinylcopy is available. Execradores’ homebase is Sao Paulo, Brazil and they are aself-proclaimed anarcho punk band. SinDios share in the same beliefs and calltheir home base Spain. I couldn’t tellyou exactly what the beliefs of bothbands are because this came with nolyric sheet. The song titles, for the mostpart, are in Portuguese and I’m prettydamn sure that the lyrics are definitelyPortuguese for the Execradores songsand Spanish for the Sin Dios songs.What I can describe for you lusciousreaders of my writing is the music.Execradores play straight forward fastpunk that is short and sweet. No extrabaggage to keep you from losing inter-est here. They bash into your foreheadseventeen songs of what injustices theysee. Sin Dios provide ten songs in thesame vein; a little more melodic at timesbut every bit as powerful. One goodthing is when you don’t understand thelanguage, you can focus more on theenergy of the music and the rage is feltequivocally. –Donofthedead (Sin Fronteras)

FAKES, THE: Everything’s Fake: CDEPWhat’s ultimately creepy about TheFakes is how almost unmistakable G.Edward Stasi’s voice sounds almostexactly like Duane Peters’ – down to the

drawl at the end of long vowels. Theyprobably use the same mouthwash orsomething. This EP is almost like primecuts of ultra-prime US Bombs or DuanePeters and the Hunns, down to theKerry Martinez-like guitar work, thebackup vocals, and the California bum-mer song topics. What’s also funny isthat I’m not complaining in the slight-est. It’s fucking enjoyable, if not a littlecreepy, but I already said that. –Todd(Hostage)

FALL SILENT: Drunken Violence: CDI came about these guys by accidentwhen I got a copy of their previousrelease, Six Years in the Desert. I wasblown away because I didn’t expect tobe punched to my skull by the sheerspeed and rage that was forced into mysenses. Continuing on with their manicways, a new episode is unleashed. Man,I love that traditional speed metal soundthese guys present to me. My neck goesspastic and start to bang out of controlwhen I hear the riffage. If you hatemetal, go away. But you have to respecta band that puts their heart out frontwhen they are playing Heart’s“Barracuda.” Playing it seriously andnot for a joke. Like if Judas Priest wasdoing a cover of it. Bang your head.Metal health will drive you mad. Ha, ha,ha. –Donofthedead (Revelation)

FASTLANE: Hold Your Breath: CDEmo-saturated hardcore. I nearly madeit trough the fourth song before thewretchedness of the music caused me to

begin vomiting uncontrollably. –JimmyAlvarado (Aggravated Music)

FAT ASS: Another Great Dayin Shithole: 7”Hell fuckin’ yeh, this is blistering, balls-out rock’n’roll thunder at its trashiestand most wrathful! It cacophonouslysounds like AC/DC, El Diablo, and theSupersuckers savagely runnin’ amoksmack-dab into a furiously raging torna-do, and then harnessing all of its cata-strophic roaring energy and blasting itthrough a towering stack of Marshallamps. Unbelievably intense! –RogerMoser, Jr. (Diaphragm)

F-BOMB: El Diablo Dinner Theatre: CDA melding of college rock, punk andmaybe a dash of emo, resulting in a CDthat’s as boring as that descriptionsounds. –Jimmy Alvarado(Groundswell)

FIELDS OF FIRE: Demo: CDFast, spazzy, and satisfying punk rock inthe vein of The Zero Boys (whom theycover), Black Flag, and JFA with flour-ishes of newer incarnations like theThumbs and Dick Army (not the violinLA one, the good one in NYC). It’s fullof melody without being outrightpoppy. It’s fast, but every note’s stillbeing hit (so rule out powerviolence),and it’s hard to type when I listen to itbecause my fist always wants to raise upand pump along. The cool thing aboutFields of Fire is that although theyremind me of past great bands from theearly ‘80s, I don’t get all misty with

nostalgia, but get the sense of a bandlooking ahead while using some of thetools of the past, and sharpening themfor the songs ahead. Looking forward tothe progression. This ain’t bad at all.–Todd (Fields of Fire)

FIFTY-TWO: Lead or Follow: CDPretty straightforward hardcore (mean-ing no abundance of metal wanking)with a dash of country here and there.Not too bad, although the guitar playerlooks more like Yogi Fuentes thanshould be humanly possible. –JimmyAlvarado (Aggravated Music)

FLOGGING MOLLY: Drunken Lullabies: CDThink of being at the pub with a groupof your closest friends sharing a goodtime of a few pints of Guinness, Harp orsome black and tans. The atmosphere isset for just a boost. The perfect accom-paniment to this grand time would beFlogging Molly. With their mix of thePogues, traditional Irish folk and punkenergy, you would have to be dead notwanting to jump and dance. What I amassuming is their second full length, isevery bit as good as their previousrelease Swagger. It’s a perfection oftracks that carefully takes you up anddown and keeps you interested through-out the whole disc. Seeing them at theirrecord release shows here in LA, I’mguessing that their infectious energy hascaught on quite strong. I can’t wait ‘tillthey record and release their cover ofTom Jones’ “Delilah.” –Donofthedead(Side One Dummy)

FRANKENSTEIN DRAGQUEENS FROM PLANET 13,THE/ NERDS, THE: Split 7”Despite the stupid name and terribledrag/horror outfits, the FDQFP13s man-age two pretty swell Southern scumrock numbers. They’re from NorthCarolina. Italy’s Nerds (I’m not surethey know what a nerd is, as their sideof the record is called “Satan’s Rise”and bears a painting of four hooded fel-lows introducing a cross to a strippednun’s most holy area) sacrifice speed forpower and turn in a couple of metallicones. –Cuss Baxter (Scarey)

FRANKIE VIOLENCE ANDHIS DEPUTIES: John Pill Sessions 4 Hits: CD-EPThis is fist-shakin’, skull-throttlin’ pub-punk rock’n’roll madness! It’s lean,mean, and spastically crazed like amotherfucker! It sounds uncannily likea musical brick-tossin’ riot between TheDamned, Subhumans (U.K.), andJohnny Thunders. Hell yeh, I’mabsolutely fascinated by this sonicallystripped-down display of rip-roarin’,over-amped aggression. It’s indeed agut-pummelin’ piece of truly turbulentpunkrock paradise, so I give it the loud-est and most robust of burp-ridden rec-ommendations! –Roger Moser, Jr.(Frankie Violence And His Deputies)

FRUSTRATORS, THE:Achtung Jackass: CDHell yeh, this is giddy, silly, and euphor-ic pop-punk pizzazz at its most jubilantand upbeat! It sounds incredibly likeGreen Day (no small wonder, sinceGreen Day’s Mike Dirnt lends his brashbass-thumping abilities as well as back-ing vocals to this sonically spectacularproject!), and my tickled-drunk earsalso detect the melodic and lively influ-ences of the Buzzcocks, Dickies, andThe Vapors. But I’ll be damned if “.25”doesn’t sound like a long-lost Nirvanatrack from their angst-ridden “Bleach”sessions, and a spastic cranked-to-the-max cover of The Cars’ “My BestFriend’s Girl” is enthusiastically includ-ed herein for your toe-tappin’ listeningpleasure, as well. Indeed, this cheerful-ly smashing CD is impressive, exhila-rating, and dazzling beyond belief. It’sguaranteed to provide the ultimateaurally rollicking good time for all ofthe entire world! –Roger Moser, Jr.(Adeline)

FURIOUS IV: …Is That You?: CDThis is intricate, energetic, and youth-fully exuberant pop-punk spasticity thatrobustly thumped a whoppin’ dinosaur-sized knot upon my head in thirty sec-onds flat! It’s all-at-once melodious,mercurial, and frenetically charged likea motherfucker! Furious IV brazenlyremind me of One Hit Wonder withsnottier, more boyish vocals; and less Ihesitate to mention the crunchy rapid-fire rhythms and riffs, stratosphericrocket-fuelled guitar leads, a startlingbone-breakin’ rumble of bass bombard-ments, and a thunderously raging dis-play of skull-cracking percussive skill-fulness. Indeed, these jubilant and juicysongs are feverishly performed with afast-paced sense of urgency and the

utmost of juvenescent swagger. I onlyhave one valid complaint to lodge: thefinal detestable tune, “Cop-Out,” is amass-appeal acoustic abomination thatsounds uncannily like an MTVUnplugged reject. Next time leave suchlackluster musical bilge at home, fellas(I know acoustic-tinged antics like thatare popular with the suburban mall-bratpunks, but it’s a redundant and over-rated pop-punk cliché that’s been doneto death already, gawddamn!). Anyway,other than the aforementioned, FuriousIV have frenetically released a stellarfirst-rate pop-punk classic that’ll con-stantly be blastin’ from my stereo at allhours of the day and night. –RogerMoser, Jr. (Pointed Finger)

FUSES, THE: Self-titled: 7”Not to be confused with The Fuse (sin-gular, from LA) or The Short Fuses (thepunk’n’roll band with the lady), it’s TheFuses. I’ll be honest. I yoinked this assoon as it came in because it had aplayable cover, which is a pretty fuck-ing cool thing. The packaging is impec-cable. The songs? Ehh, so-so. “If theCommunists Don’t Dance” is jangly,androgynous, repetitive and disaffected.“The Fix Was In” continues the art-holeing. It gets right to the edge of beinginteresting, of exploding all over, then itrecedes. “The Poor Need Opera” has asparkle of Gang of Four angularity, butit just seems so, well, very not danger-ous or risky but calculated: too muchhead, not enough heart. The cover song(in two senses of the word – it’s on thecover and it’s a cover of Fashion) is thebest of the bunch. Spastic, jumpy, andshort. It’s never the best sign that myfavorite song is written by someoneelse. Fair, but I doubt I’ll be playing thismuch. I’ll just be showing people theplayable cover. –Todd (SlamdanceCosmopolis)

GADJITS, THE: Today Is My Day: CDFirst rule is: The laws of Germany.Second rule is: Never trust a ska band.Third rule is: Never trust a band that hasformed within the past two years to playpunk rock and roll. Fourth rule is: Nevertrust a ska band who jumps onto thepunk rock and roll bandwagon. That’sreally all you havta know about theGadjits. If you’re one of those trendjumpers, HERE’S YOUR TREND!Bluesy punk rock, complete withretro/emo-y package design. If this werea cereal, it’d be whatever Cap’n Crunchis dishing up this month. (There havebeen a ridiculous number of differentkinds of Cap’n Crunch – and all of themsuck.) Can I declare a moratorium onmore bands forming that sound likethis? If not, please kill me. –Maddy(Thick)

GAS HUFFER: The Rest of Us: CDWow. I wasn’t expecting this from GasHuffer at all. It’s like they took thetrashy rock’n’roll that made themfamous and threw out the trash. Not in abad way at all. This is the musicalequivalent to the whole Pygmalion fan-tasy, where you take a hooker, clean herup and make her presentable to all yourfriends and everyone loves her and she’sa great girlfriend, etc., but deep downinside, you know she still fucks like a

pro and you’ll never have to lose that. Itjust makes sense, though, that, whenyou have this much talent swimmingaround beneath the distortion, youshould probably drain a bit of the dis-tortion out of the pool. And that’s whatThe Rest of Us does. Everything aboutGas Huffer is solid in this album: a stur-dy rhythm section, catchy vocals, andgood lyrics (“the kids are listening tothe radio. They can’t tell the songs fromthe ads, but who can these days?”). Butwhat makes this album amazing is TomPrice’s guitar. Without any kind ofwanking or showboating, Price roundsout the songs with perfect soundingriffs. Every time I listen to this album,one of Price’s guitar parts will jump outat me and I’ll think, how the fuck did hedo that with only six strings? I’ll think,people have been playing guitars forhundreds of years, why hasn’t anyoneelse thought to do that? And that? Andthat? It’s not just impressive; it’s greatmusic. –Sean Carswell (Estrus)

GASOLHEADS: Red Wine andWhite Russians: 10” They thank Teenage Head! They arefrom France! This is pretty decent rockand roll. If only they sounded like aFrench Teenage Head! Then I could diehappy! If this were a cereal, it’d be reg-ular Cheerios. Not great, not bad. Andcould all bands from non-Englishspeaking countries stop singing inEnglish, please? –Maddy (Dead Beat)

GASOLINE: Take It to the People: CDJapan’s Gasoline is truly a sight tobehold. They ripped a new one to eachand every member of the crowd thatwas lucky enough to witness the all outrocking at the Garage in beautiful sunnyLos Angeles. Singer Gan glides effort-lessly through a host of front man anticsincluding the James Brown, getting’ sodown, he has to crawl all over the stagewhile he dons a majestic shamelessmetallic purple embroidered cape;inducing the crowd to lay low during ahushed portion of their cover of “Shout”by the Isley Brothers then commandingthem to leap to their feet at his discre-tion; as well as a full frontal cover ofThe Pack’s classic punk anthem“Nobody Can Tell Us.” Man, theseJapanese soul bros take it to the heart!So, ReTodd was nice enough to popover their latest full length CD, courtesyof the fine folks at Estrus records. Itstarts off with a swampy blues harmon-ica thang – Take It To The People(which they reprise at the end of thevinyl version, but what do you know theCD version actually has more bonustracks – get smart and buy the CD ver-sion will ya, cause they’ve got classicslike “We Are Gasoline” for your edifi-cation) but don’t fall asleep on thatsweaty Mississippi porch yet my friendsbecause Pearl Harbor #2 is goin’ offright in your ear! There’s a consistentgarage punk tone but it’s laden withhefty servings of soul sonic reductionDetroit rock and early rhythm and bluesinfluences to keep your feet moving andyour butt shaking. Gan gets downrightgutwretchingly blues vocaled out (he’s avirtual Japanese Son House), Hiroshianchors the tunes with precision basslines, and drummer Shuhei hits ‘emhard babies! Mr. Tim Kerr takes the

reigns and makes it swing. Take It ToThe People is another instant classicfrom Japan that belongs in your recordcollection. Can I get an amen?–Namella J. Kim (Estrus Records)

GENERATORS, THE: State of the Nation: CD EPDamn straight, I wish more punk bandshad the balls and sonic blister of TheGenerators. This crazed mad-dog quar-tet of insurgent noise-makers sure knowhow to raucously kick it into high gearwhile furiously thrustin’ their middlefingers into the wan, expressionless faceof our complacent, corporate-fed soci-ety. Both melody-wise and within theirsurly snarlin’ attitude, The Generatorsare very much chaotically akin to theU.S. Bombs. The songs irately screamwith bile, venom, emotion, and unre-lenting snottiness. This is auditorydestruction at its most severe with sevenbone-crushin’ originals, a skull-splittin’cover of Cock Sparrer’s “Runnin’ Riot,”and a bit of video-enhanced imagery, aswell! DESTROY! –Roger Moser, Jr.(TKO)

GENERATORS, THE: State of the Nation: LPPretty solid old style punk band. Theyjust sound too much like a mediocreversion of the US Bombs. However, itstill isn’t bad. They can be found onTKO’s latest comp if you are wearyabout buying this before you hear whatthey are like. –Toby (Deadbeat)

GOVERNMENT ISSUE:Complete History Volume Two: 2XCDDr. Strange finishes up its look at thecareer of Government Issue on this disc,compiling their last three albums (twostudio and one live) and a couple unre-leased tracks onto two CDs. Taking bothvolumes of this as a whole, it’s prettyneat to see how the band went frompoint A to point B, from playing tune-less, over-the-top hardcore to mid-tempo punk with pop overtones. Youcan hear the progression and see moreclearly how they ended up where theydid. While I’ve never been a fan of theirlater work (and still ain’t, to be honest),I can now say I’ve earned considerablymore respect for it, and can now see thatwhat I once thought was a total 180-degree turn in abject wimpdom wasactually (as was the case of many oftheir peers in DC) an attempt to stretchthe narrow parameters they found them-selves in by aligning themselves withpunk rock, and create a new kindaruckus from the old. Can’t say it worksfor me, but it is good for what it is and Iappreciate their effort, even if my appre-ciation is 10+ years too late. As I said inmy review of the first volume a fewissues back, I really wish they’d seen fitto include the early demo with“Everybody’s Getting Mad” and theirversion of “Stepping Stone,” but, thisgripe aside, both volumes of CompleteHistory still serve as an essential look atan often essential, usually underratedband that had the gumption to slam andspit with the rest of ’em and had theballs to take a chance on growing up. -Jimmy Alvarado (Dr. Strange)

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GRANDPRIXX, THE: …Drive Me Crazy!: CD I used to pronounce this band “grand-pree” until several people informed methat its pronounced “grandpricks.” Ack.Even worse. Very mediocre pop punkwith slightly annoying vocals. Remindsme of the lesser Mutant Pop bands. Ifthis were a cereal, it’d be generic FruityPebbles. Not much here to get excitedabout. –Maddy (Fork in Hand)

GUAPO, EL: Super/System: CDMoody synth-driven music. Not partic-ularly manic, kinda jazzy sometimesand maybe a little more artsy than isgood for it, but an interesting listennonetheless. Yup. Definitely interesting.Recommended for the robot voice ontrack fifteen alone. I’m a sucker forrobot voices. –Jimmy Alvarado(Dischord)

HAMMERLOCK/LIMECELL:Split: 7” “Die Hard” is the single byHammerlock. Hammerlock is a greathard-ass southern rock band but this isnot one of their better songs. I think Ijust listened to it for the last time.Limecell, another great band in thesame category as Hammerlock, have thebetter side. “Buried Alive” and “LiveLike an Angel, Die Like a Devil” aretheir songs. The first drags too much butthe second is up to par for them. I’d goby any of their CDs and ignore this. -Toby

HANK PLANK & THE 2x4s:Venus Hair Trap: CDHot damn, these rural white-trash ruffi-ans proudly produce a rowdy, rip-snortin’, horndog hootenanny of full-fledged, grade-A, countrified aural jovi-ality! It’s backwoods, banjo-fuelled,“Deliverance”-style sonic sinfulnessthat’ll make the devil feverishly dance ajig in the shadowy pale moonlight witha hedonistic honky-tonk mama. Duringa couple of the dandy delightful ditties,a frenetically out-of-control fiddleshreds the inner sanctums of my earswith its wildly swirling banshee-wail ofscreeching insanity. Sure as shit, this issome sourmash-stewin’, moonshine-brewin’ mountain music that’ll quiveryour liver, twist your titties in a knot,and knock your dick in the dirt some-thin’ fierce! So hey now, Junior, just dothis for ol’ Rog right this very minute:grab your partner and swing her around,tap your toes, then go to town, and whenyou get to town, lay your money down(for the saucy swaggerin’ sounds ofHank Plank and his 2x4 compadres, ofcourse!). Yeeeee-fuckin’-haw, this isdamn near as invigoratin’ as passionate,sweat-drenched sex with a farm-bredgirl in a tub full of Jim Beam and maplesyrup! –Roger Moser, Jr. (no contact address)

HARUM SCARUM: Suppose We Try: LPI read about this band in MRR awhileago. That piqued my interest but I nevergot around to getting anything by them.I did see this release and said to myself,I have to finally check them out. I’m not

sure how much they have put out in thepast, but I need to get more! An insertannounced that singer Erin no longersings for them anymore. I’m more curi-ous now that they seem to be perfect asthey are. The music is strong and thelyrics are thought provoking. Socio-political are their leaning in regards tolyrical content. Musically, they are tightand mid-tempo in style that is reminis-cent of the early ‘80s UK anarchistbands like Conflict meets Flux of PinkIndians meets Icons of Filth. The musicis well written and has no hints of stale-ness. Power is produced by musician-ship and not with overblown produc-tion. The female-led vocals are strongbut also add a quality of fidelity thatmakes understanding the lyrics easier.Fantastic first taste for me from a bandthat I should have been listening to ear-lier on. –Donofthedead (Hex)

HELGAS, THE: Why You Wanna: 7”After several listens, The Helgas slowlygrew on me like blue fungal mold on aloaf of bread. At first, I honestly didn’tknow what to think of their distinctlyunique musical quirkiness, but then Idecided that they sound vaguely similarto the Ramones (rhythmically),Buzzcocks (vocals and catchy poppyedge), and even Buddy Holly to a cer-tain degree. Yeh, I’ll definitely give thislively lil’ 7-incher several more spins onthe ol’ turntable during the next fewdays, ‘cause it makes me feel all giddyand tingly inside. Aw, shucks! –RogerMoser, Jr. (They Still Make Records)

HONOR SYSTEM, THE: 100% Synthetic: CDI was about to start liking this, but it justhad too much of an emo feel for me.Back into the case it goes.–Donofthedead (Double Zero)

HOPELESS DREGS OFHUMANITY: Rock

Revolutionary Apocalypse: CDAin’t too hip on the rockin’ circa-’80s-Berkeley punk sound of this, but thelyrics are pretty witty and well written.Liked it for that reason alone. -JimmyAlvarado (Ever Reviled)

IDIOT HUMANS: Self-titled: 7” EPIf I remember right, these Clevelandguys were around from ‘83-’85 and theRies brothers split up and went on toThe Laughing Hyenas (fronted by JohnBrannon of Negative Approach, whowas fucking amazing. If you want to getbeat up by a record, listen to You Can’tPray a Lie.) and RC5. This EP is solidfor the early-to-mid ‘80s – on that teetertotter, toying with all-out thrash onsome songs and being arty and JoyDivision-y on others, but the entiresound owes maybe a little too much to ablender of GBH, Subhumans, and slow-er Rudimentary Peni to become particu-larly distinct and memorable. It’s okay.Not pioneering, not embarrassing.–Todd (Smog Veil)

IRONBOSS: Rides Again: CDPost-AC/DC biker punk that’s all rightfor what it is, I guess, but probably

won’t get more than a first listen fromme. –Jimmy Alvarado (Reptilian)

IRONBOSS: Rides Again: CDWho needs that cliched, watered-downNashville Pussy shit when these heretrue gods of thunder are sonically pil-laging and plundering this great land ofours in all of their monstrously deafen-ing fury?! Indeed, IronBoss sounduncannily like the screamin’ vengefulroar of 100,000 howitzer cannonsunleashing a relentless torrent of fire,brimstone, death, and destruction. It’s asif AC/DC, Motorhead, Roller, a motor-cycle-gang Molly Hatchet, and a harderrockin’ KISS (circa 1975) were all bit-terly embroiled in a fever-pitched,aurally violent fist-flailing fight to thedeath! This is cacophonous, motor-revvin’ crankshaft rock’n’roll at itsheaviest, meanest, and most ruthless.Sure as shit, it’ll put the fear of Sataninto you pretty damn quick! In myentire brew-sponged lifetime, my earsain’t never been this aggressively bru-talized… and that’s a down-home god’shonest fact, bub! –Roger Moser, Jr.(Reptilian)

JANITOR: There Are No More American Heroes: CDThe packaging would never lead you tobelieve what is inside. Even looking atthe band picture, you would kind ofexpect more of a melodicore band tocome out of your speakers. What spewsout is a strong blaze of old school punkrock that is short and abrasive. Thesongs have a Discharge and theVarukers meets Negative Approach

mixed with mid-’80s hardcore feel tome. I have no idea where these guyscame from, but damn, they are good!–Donofthedead (Plethorazine)

JEDI FIVE: Relentless: CDMore useless pop-core for the just-start-ing-high-school crowd. Fuck musicquality and relevance, the guys in theband are cute! Ain’t that right, girls?–Jimmy Alvarado (Hell Bent)

JEWWS, THE: I Need Your Lovin’ (But I Don’t Need You) b/w We Come Out at Night:7” EPSweet, snotty, no-nonsense garage rockthat huffs fabric softener (for thatinstant, wicked high which leaves blis-ters in your nostrils but smells nice) thatspazzes from the gate like a mis-med-icated retard hucked off the short busand dragged along by his leash. Themusic trips down to the bare essentialslike a meth’d hooker in an ass-flossthong, kicks for the balls on the firstnote with combat boots and ConverseAll Stars (care of Omari and Matt), anddoesn’t stop until a spiked heel (care ofRebecca) grinds it all to a halt shortlyafter. For fans of the Kill-a-Watts,Motards, and Dirtys. Think ChuckBerry and radioactivity. Me like. Melike. –Todd (Alien Snatch)

JOEY RAMONE: Don’t Worry About Me: CDI bought this disc a few days after itsinitial release several weeks ago, but Iunfortunately haven’t had time to lis-

ten to it until now due to a hectic, unre-lenting schedule of academics, home-work, exams, beer, and sleep. Todayhas been particularly grueling andstressful (whatever could possibly gowrong has done so tenfold!), so fuck it,I’ve nonchalantly resigned myself toan inebriating afternoon of cold, ice-chilled brew and the spirit-rousingsonic uniqueness of Joey Ramone. Assoon as the powerfully upbeat strainsof the opening number, LouisArmstrong’s “What a WonderfulWorld,” kicked into high gear, I sud-denly felt alive and replenished with ayouthful zeal for life, ready to conquerthe world, baby! And it just gets moreinspired and delightfully titillatingfrom there: “Mr. Punchy” soundsincredibly like a long-lost out-takefrom The Who during their youthfulspeed-addled mod era; “MariaBartiromo” could’ve very well beenperformed by Cheap Trick live at theBudokan in ’79; “Spirit in My House”is the closest semblance to a Kinksclassic since their very own “YouReally Got Me”; “Venting (It’s aDifferent World Today)” and “Like aDrug I Never Did Before” (with itsfiercely smokin’ Steve Jones-style gui-tar swagger) sound similar to updated,more polished versions of theRamones’ “I Wanna Live” and“Strength to Endure”; “Searching forSomething” is acoustically along thelines of “Lonely Planet Boy” by theNew York Dolls; the brutally honestlyrical content of “I Got KnockedDown (But I’ll Get Up)” is a heart-wrenching account of a bedriddenJoey’s miserable suffering during his

routine hospital stays; and then there’sa spectacular sizzlin’ rendition of TheStooges’ “1969” (a select treat hold-over from the Iggy tribute disc “WeWill Fall”). With special musicalguests Daniel Rey, Andy Shernoff,Marky Ramone, Captain Sensible, Dr.Chud, Jerry Only, Joey’s real-lifebrother Mickey Leigh, and other suchmulti-talented notables, this is one hel-luva aurally stellar release enthusiasti-cally packed with some of the mostwell-scrubbed and crunchy rock’n’rolloriginality ever put to platter.Wherever Joey may be, he should bedamn proud of himself for leavingsuch an indelibly unique imprint uponus all. –Roger Moser, Jr. (Sanctuary)

JOHN STAMOS PROJECT,THE: Take Your Best Shot: CD Okay. There are few things I dislike asmuch as punk bands singing about theirpopular, preppy girlfriends. To para-phrase Turbonegro, “Punk rockersshould go out with punk rockers.” Imean, if I went out with some boy wholiked Dave Matthews Band andshopped at the Gap, well, I’d try to keepthat a SECRET, not record a song aboutit! Geez! Lame! So, um, this band singsgeneric pop punk songs about havingpreppy girlfriends, being in a band toget “chicks,” and why Billy Joel stinks.I can only relate to the last of thosethree. If this were a cereal, it’d be Kashi– that weird cereal middle-age womeneat to lose weight. Uncool. –Maddy(Reinforcement)

KICK, THE: Self-titled: CDEP-RTotally uninspiring rock’n’roll. I’mabout as excited as a narcoleptic ondowners. –Jimmy Alvarado(<www.the-kick.com>)

KUNG FU KILLERS: Game of Death: CD EPIf you were raised in a bland semi-nor-mal household, your mother assuredlywarned you about pugnacious punkrockbands like this. Well, all I gotta say is:FUCK PARENTAL AUTHORITY!This is some of the most gawddamn ass-kicking, riot-inciting punkrock rebel-liousness to rear its ugly, unruly head inan extremely long time, and it certainlyhas the “old school” seal of approvalvigorously stamped all over it and everysong in between! KFK are the most bru-tally raging group of auditory hell-rais-ers since Black Flag, Circle Jerks,Descendents, and The Cheifs. So yes,kiddies, please fervently ignore yourparents’ constant pleas for complacentnormalcy within their household.Smugly defy them by loudly blastingGame of Death at all hours of the dayand night while savagely running amokthrough the neighborhood and destroy-ing all forms of conventional medioc-rity. That’ll do the Kung Fu Killersproud, I’m sure. –Roger Moser, Jr. (TKO)

KUNG FU KILLERS: KFK Theme: 7”This is fast-and-furious Cali-style “oldschool” punk that makes a personwanna permanently ditch his or her job

and then form a band that plays nothin’but the most passionate of anti-corpo-rate punkrock noisiness. I’ve been loud-ly blastin’ this ear-sizzlin’ lil’ 7-incherall damn afternoon, and I just can’tseem to stop stompin’ my Converse-enshrouded feet while spasticallyknockin’ holes in the wall with my headlike orange-haired Vivian of “TheYoung Ones.” If I were God, I’d makeboth songs contained herein our newnational anthems that would be raucous-ly played each and every time PrezDumbshit Dubya showed his gooberishHowdy Doody persona in public. Hellyeh, this is a spirit-rousing auditoryruckus if ever I’ve heard one! –RogerMoser, Jr. (TKO)

KYLESA: Self-titled: 7”My special lady friend is really helpingme out appreciating rock’n’roll. Myparents were too busy listening to Abbacover bands (like Galaxy) to pull outany AC/DC or Black Sabbath in myreally formative years. I went directlyfrom the soundtrack to Jesus ChristSuperstar to Minor Threat. Twentyyears later, I’m almost on the cuspwhere I can name some rock songs.Point? Kylesa owes about equal defer-ence to both Black bands – Flag andSabbath. They’ve got deep-draggingnets of heaviness (not quickness. It’s notblur-core but there’s a ton of weight)that pick up and explode from sweepingup floating mines in their songs, erupt-ing at unexpected times. If you want meto get into this decade, think along thelines of Dillinger Escape Plan, tradingin their jazziness for more pounding,grinding, and woven punishment.

Features former (?) members of Damadand Cobra Kai. The B-side is a Fartzcover, (who, did a Sabbath cover on oneof their albums, so this whole thingcomes full circle) and features ChrisBickel of Guyana Punch Line singingalong. What makes this even sweeter isthe Pushead cover art, the foil stamp,the colored vinyl, and mine came with asquished earwig inside the sleeve. Not abad gig at all. –Todd (Prank)

LAST CALL, THE: Out of Ideas: CDThese lads of Lompoc, CA havecoughed up a CD worth giving a listento, that is, if you happen to spin thevinyl fantastic of Decry, Riotgun, oranything sounding faintly reminiscentto the likes of Fat Wreck Chords, butwith balls. Balls here meaning heavyand thick. You could see these guys get-ting drunk together and playing withPegboy, but not sounding exactly likeeach other, know what I mean, Cocko?I’ve had the chance to see these guysperform live in the famous backyard(R.I.P.) of Santa Barbara’s most gra-cious, liquored-up host, Mr. TonyFranco, and although I’ll never see anymore great (illegal) shows in Tony’sbackyard, I’ve got this disc to remindme of some of the great bands he’s hadthere, including this one. Check it out,fuckers. –Designated Dale (The LastCall)

LAWRENCE ARMS, THE:Apathy and Exhaustion: CDThis is poppy, punky, spastic, and snot-ty as all get-up! Crunchy guitar rhythms

are perfectly complemented by sporadicsky-rocketing leads, a slap-happy dis-play of wooden barrel drumbeats, and arapid-fire succession of bursting bassbombardments. The vocals are gravelly,yet harmoniously pristine. Indeed, theintricately structured songs of TheLawrence Arms are heavily textured inrich swirls of well-blended melody, butthey possess the utmost of unbridledenergy, youthful exuberance, and fer-vent frenetic passion. I found this to bean immensely enjoyable listening expe-rience of which I won’t soon forget. It’saurally flawless! –Roger Moser, Jr.(Fat)

LEGHOUNDS, THE: Self-titled: CDThere are things that simply make myquality of life better and I take stepsnever to take them for granted. Beer(cold preferred, concussion optional).Wrestling (without commercials). In-home plumbing and electricity. Sex (nopets). Rock’n’roll (that, uhm, rocks).The occasional pork chop. It sounds likea pat statement and it’s in one of theofficial documents of American-dom –but stuff like the Leghounds is part ofthe pursuit of happiness. That’s whatthey provide. Good, old-fashioned, non-ass, Devil Dogs-spawned,Teengenerate-whipped, Jam-weaned,Motards-soaked, rock’n’roll. Definitelynothing less. Fine, fine stuff. Thealbum, in its entirety, is presented hereboth in mono and stereo. They recordedthree simultaneous records. The othertwo will be available presently. –Todd(Bulge)

LIE: Why!?: 7”If my memory serves me right, this is atour release 7” that the band was sellingon their tour of the west coast. I missedthem but I did pick up a copy viamailorder through Some Strange Music.Side A provides you with three songs ofthrash, thrash, thrash with some punkthrown in. Side B is the title track andcarries the tradition of great Japcore likeLip Cream and early Gastunk. TheseJapanese noise makers blitz throughtheir songs with precision but sound rawenough to show that they are what theyplay. –Donofthedead (625)

LOPEZ: Self-titled: CDHigh-octane rock’n’roll falling some-where between Speedealer, theConfederacy of Scum bands and morerecent Dwarves efforts. Damn good. I’dsay more, but I’m a little flabbergasted,frankly. –Jimmy Alvarado (Infect)

LOS HUEVOS: Stick ‘em Up: 7”Take the abrasive sloppiness of theGerms, the livid fury of Minor Threat,and the cacophonous disarray of theDicks, toss ‘em all into a fully crankedwood chipper, and there ya have theraging out-of-control sounds of LosHuevos. This is as musically angry as itgets, folks, and I wouldn’t have it anyother way. –Roger Moser, Jr. (Dragnet)

LURKERS: The Punk Singles Collection: CDA seriously good compendium of thisgroup’s singles, from their first onBeggar’s Banquet to their last. All thehits are here: “Shadow,” “JustThirteen,” New Guitar in Town,” et al.Most interesting for me was the tracksfrom their years with Clay Records,which appears the period in which theirsingles were most consistently good.Jeez, I was completely unaware thatthey survived that long into the ‘80s. Anewer track, “Go Ahead Punk, MakeMy Day,” is one monster of a song, withenough hooks and shouty bits to makeany Cocksparrer fan smile. So recom-mended it ain’t funny. –JimmyAlvarado (Captain Oi!)

MEA CULPA: CorporateNation: 4-song 7” EPFour songs and not a dong in the bunch.It truly surprised me how well realizedthis new band is. It’s catchy as heck andnot merely socially conscious but hyperalert and literate. Although there aresome bands that can a.) rock b.) thinkexplicitly political thoughts c.) don’tsound exactly like the past d.) aren’thyper-fast or Cookie Monstery (so youcan hear the lyrics), there aren’t a lot of‘em. Off the top of my head, Swedenbrought us Randy; England, Four LetterWord; Canada, Propagandhi; The U.S.,D4, the GC5, and Moral Crux. I mayblaspheme here, but I’ve alwaysthought there was a lot to be desiredwith Billy Bragg (liked his ideas, but henever got these toes really a-tappin’)and don’t even get me started with themelodramatic blubberfest of Fifteen.Sure, some of Mea Culpa’s cues aretaken from The Clash, especially on theguitar work, but there’s a ton more atplay here: twinges of country via the

Dils (and Rank and

File) and the breathless rebellion ofReally Red. Perhaps thinking of a moretuneful Strawman would help you place‘em, and they’re modernly updated.Regardless, if you come up with thelines like “There are police on everycorner. Their badges say, ‘Place YourAd Here,’” I’d probably like your band,too. Fantastic. –Todd (Empty)

MIDNIGHT EVILS, THE:Self-titled: CDRock’n’roll doesn’t get much fasterthan this. Fans of Zeke and REOSpeedealer should pick this up. I brokea sweat just listening to it. –Toby (Dart)

MIGHTY JOHN WAYNES, THE: Kill That Girl: 7”Attention Zodiac Killer/Rip Off HonchoMr. Greg Lowery – if you don’t getthese guys in the studio, you are makinga grave mistake. Indianapolis boys –The Mighty John Waynes smoke, cuss,spit, guzzle and epitomize all that is trueand punk rock in the world: Dead Boys,Crime, The Kids, etc. I mean, howmany times have you wished you couldjust Kill That Girl. When a band likeTMJW’s deliver it with such, er, convic-tion, you just want to go out there witha shotgun and make her “famous.” Idefy any man to do this to me for they’llget a size five and half shoe sideways uptheir candy ass! Miss Namella heartilyrecommends this platter for good tymepunk rocking or drinking cheapo beeron the couch all week during the weeafternoon while watching repeats ofPokemon. –Namella J. Kim (MightyJohn Waynes / Record Records)

MILLOY, Belt Up: CDEPTired of anger and speed? I am some-times. When I need a little melody,Crackle Records always sends mesomething that gets the melody backinto me. Case in point, Milloy. If youare a fan of Snuff, Hot Water Music orLeatherface, you should not have anyreason to not like these guys. For mepersonally, I prefer this to Leatherfaceand Hot Water Music. They haven’t bit-ten me in the ass like Snuff has. Back tothe band here. They seem more maturein their song writing for a band that has-n’t been around that long. The songs arestrong and well crafted with a pinch ofsheer energy to keep my attention. It’salso well produced to add a presence ofemotional tension. Would have liked tohave more than six songs, but I will takewhat I get. Another offering from agreat UK band that should take theworld by storm. –Donofthedead(Crackle!)

MODEY LEMON: Self-titled: CDLo-fi rock’n’roll that started off okay,but I found myself completely ignoringit by song three. –Jimmy Alvarado (A-F)

MOONEY SUZUKI, THE: Electric Sweat: CDThe Stooges had Raw Power, The MC5had Rocket Reducer, well, The MooneySuzuki have Electric Sweat. This CD,babies, will be the first and last thingyour ears will ever need to hear on adaily basis. The Mooney Suzuki havebeen making quite a name for them-

selves since their inception back in therock dormant days of 1997. The buzzstarted on the Bomp List and spread likewildfire from the mouths of music con-noisseurs who spoke with frantic fanati-cism of the coming of The Mooney rev-olution. The rest, they say, is rock’n’rollhistory, for countless many nights onthe road (with a man-tasy sandwich billopening for The Donnas andBratmobile) yielded new believers andconverted the naysayers who insistedthat rock was dead. The Mooney tooktheir voodoo mojo and worked overtimemaking the fans swoons with the intox-icating auditory sweet poison of gut-busting, soul bearing, kick-out-the-jamsrocknrolla of People Get Ready, thenow classic, clap yo’ hands, Tim Kerrproduced Estrus debut. Electric Sweatfinds The Mooney finessing their wayinto a (gulp) mellower Otis Redding ter-ritory but still delivering their customhipswaying boogie chops. Motor CityDetroit Dirt-maestro, Jim “DiamondJim” Diamond of Ghetto Recordersfame has his way with the Mooney boysthis time and the result of their gloriousmisspent summer, oh those ghetto hotdays, is this Electric Sweat album. Youknow, Jim half jokingly told me thiswas going to be the title awhile backand I thought for sure they wouldrethink their decision, but I have to givethem ultra-props for stinking – I meansticking to this title. Ooooo, make itfunky! –Namella J. Kim (Gammon)

NEKROMANTIX: Return ofthe Loving Dead: CDWhooooo-diddle-diddle-hey, this hereis some prime demented devil’s musicat its everlasting booty-twistin’ best!Yeh buddy, I’m a-talkin’ about a ram-bunctiously delivered smorgasbord offire-and-brimstone rockabilly rowdi-ness injected with a hard-hittin’ wallopof psychotic, bad-ass aural revelry! It’scriminally insane and musically hedo-nistic like blurred reflections of TheAddams Family giddily slaughteringchickens in full view of the image-dis-torting crazy-mirrors in a funhouse atthe county fair. It’s as hot, piercing,and disruptive as a flaming pitchforkplowing through a fiery heapinghaystack in Hades while hyperactiveone-eyed demons dance a dosey-doejig in swirling haphazard circlesaround it. Sure as shit, this furiouslysizzlin’ CD is flame-broiled to perfec-tion! With such evil and immoral songtitles as “Nice Day for a Resurrection,”“Gargoyles Over Copenhagen,”“Murder for Breakfast,”“RubberMonks & LeatherNuns,”“Generation 666,” “I’m a Hellcat,” and“Haunted Cathouse,” you can damnwell expect a definite guarantee of onehelluva sinfully ingratiating goodtime! The sonically blazingNekromantix trio sure knows how tosavagely unleash an energetic unre-lenting conflagration of devilish audi-tory madness that tickles my soulsomethin’ fierce. Yep, this decadentlydelightful lil’ disc will more than like-ly be the flesh-scorchin’ soundtrack forSatan’s very next barbecue in the infer-nal flaming pits of Purgatory… andyou’re all cordially invited to attend, ofcourse! –Roger Moser, Jr. (Hellcat)

NERVES, THE:

25th Anniversary: 10”Dude, the Nerves were the quintessen-tial rock band because they were thesum of each part (member). You gotyour Jack Lee on guitar, Pete Case onbass, and the irreverent Paul Collinsthumping out the drums – no litteredsolos, no fucking around! They began inthe garage of San Francisco and foundshort-lived fame on the dirty boulevardof dreams: Hollywood. There appears tobe evidence of critical buzz aroundthem but they never really caught onwith the dumb hicks lighting up candleson their windowsills for Boston. Christ!If only we were there during that time.Perhaps the elusive nature of antiquitymake the Nerves a worthy cult band forhero worship. I’d much rather bowdown to “Hanging on the Telephone”than “More Than a Feeling.” Of course,The Nerves split up and Paul Collinswent onto form The Beat (not the limeyska band). Blondie immortalized“Hanging” by recording the song, prac-tically word for word, note for note.This 10” is a welcome sight for those ofus who never found the original singleof The Nerves for under $90! It’s anessential piece for those who enjoypower pop and just good rock’n’roll ingeneral. Thank you Penniman Records,you are one helluva rocking labelbecause not only did you have the rightsense to put this Nerves comp out, youalso put out The Fun Things reissue too.May the universe bless you and TheNerves. Now how about a reunionshow? What’s next? The Shoesreunion? The Pezband? Yeah! –NamellaJ. Kim (The Nerves)

NINE SHOCKS TERROR: Zen and the Art of BeatingYour Ass: LPThis is a re-issue from 1999, and quitepossibly, some of the finest stuff thatNine Shocks Terror ever released. Thestage: picture in your ears Raw Powerwithout the metal overlord stuff coupledto Japan’s Gauze for the speed, trajecto-ry and smashing instruments to obliv-ion, and a skinny guy screaming like atractor’s running over his foot. In otherwords, thrash, but done extremely,extremely well. Come to think of it, 9Shocks Terror takes a bunch of cuesfrom the Japanese (it’s almost impossi-ble to decipher the words in stuff likethis, no matter what language they’resinging in) and is sieved through hard-knocking Cleveland sensibilities. Noisybut not mushy, angry but not asinine. Anass spanking, to be sure. –Todd (Havoc)

NOFX: 45 or 46 Songs that Weren’t Good Enough to Go onOur Other Records: 2xCDIt’s so hard to review NOFX becausepretty much everyone who reads thiszine knows who NOFX is and what theysound like, and pretty much everyonehas made up their mind already. I can’teven pull off the old, act-like-you’ve-never-heard-of-them-and-piss-off-the-fans trick because I did that with theRancid/NOFX split last issue. Anyway,this album is exactly what its titlepromises. A lot of the songs here arehilarious (“Drugs Are Good”), some arepretty powerful (“We ThrewGasoline…”), some are really good, buttoo out-of-character for NOFX to84

include on a normal album (“Lazy”),and some are absolute throwaways(“Timmy the Turtle”). The Germs andMisfits covers are awesome. The LouisArmstrong cover isn’t so good. DiscTwo has most of the Surfer and FuckThe Kids seven inches (minus a fewsongs, so collectors still have somethingto ebay with). For both of those seveninches, NOFX went into the studio andrecorded a bunch of songs that they’dnever rehearsed. It sounds exactly likeyou’d expect it to. All in all, this isn’tthat great of an album, but I like NOFXa lot and I’m glad to own this. It’s stillin high-rotation around me. The linernotes are pretty funny, too. –SeanCarswell (Fat)

NOISE RATCHET: Till We Have Faces: CDNow what kind of name is “NoiseRatchet” for a shitty emo/college band?About as exciting as watching golf is toa blind guy. –Jimmy Alvarado (TheMilitia Group)

NOOTHGRUSH: Failing Early,Failing Often: CDLike a depressed Melvins (and, merci-fully, without the nine-minute drumsolos) Noothgrush lives in the samedark region as Grief, a place whereeveryone’s smile muscles are atrophiedand thermobaric guitar riffs are thepeacekeepers. This ‘grush stuff was allrecorded in 95-97 and some of it’s beenreleased on 7”s and stuff (none of whichI have, so at least I’M happy now) butthis ain’t exactly hit material, so a wholeheap of it on a reissue like this is like a

big thick concrete slab to build yourown personal torture chamber on. -CussBaxter (Slap A Ham)

NUMBSKULL: The Great Brain Bake-Off: CDSee, there’s a reason why some bandsgo unnoticed for eighteen years. Thesong “FBI” wasn’t too bad, though.–Jimmy Alvarado (Smog Veil)

OBSCURE, THE: The Politics of Person: CD-EPFar-fuckin’-out, man! This is stylistical-ly perfect psychedelic garage pop that’sthoroughly saturated in an aurally color-ful layer of jangly crunch-driven divini-ty. The sizzlin’ hot lil’ ditties containedherein conjure an intoxicating image ofdroppin’ a couple of tabs of acid in themiddle of a dayglo-hued poppy fieldwhile a mind-swirling soundtrack ofThe Sonics, Them, Shadows Of Knight,and Between the Buttons-era RollingStones continuously blares in the back-ground. Of the seven songs that decora-tively adorn this delightfully upbeatdisc, two (“The Human Condition” and“The American Scene”) are downrightfunky, and one (“Those CommieBastards!”) absolutely rocks withpelvic-thrustin’ surf-style swagger! Theraucously insane raver, “Give Up,”sounds as if it’s a long-lost mid-‘60sgarage-rock blaster that’d ideally fitalongside any of the savagely stellartracks on the original Nuggets comp.Hell yeh, The Obscure frenetically struttheir unique sonic stuff all over thismind-blowin’ platter of dazzling musi-cal magnetism. It’s just too damn addic-

tive for mere mortal words to adequate-ly describe. –Roger Moser, Jr. (A.D.)

OKMONICS, THE: Take a Spinwith the Okmonics: EPThis here’s a busy bass player. Heweaves, he bobs, he bangs, he rocks hisprize fighter agile fingers through 3songs of infectious, sweet yet unsappypunky pop – or is it poppy punk?Helene coos like a bird (of prey) andpounds keys like Jeff MonomanConnelly (minus, like 100 pounds).Guitarist Sammy is a Teen Beat layoutwaiting to happen! On drums is Sarahlaying down the fat beats. This band’sreally fun to watch live and they’resuper duper cool. They played a funfilled set at Mr. T’s Bowl along with theSeeds on one of those rock-actionpacked nights here in Los Angeles andbelieve me, it’s nice to hear a band thatisn’t trying to be The MC5 or TheStooges (excuse me, I love the afore-mentioned bands but can we please geton with it! Detroit Christ on a crust!).Okay, let me break it down like this:they’re like that band your big brotherjoined during his sophomore year athigh school, but The Okmonics aremuch better because they probably lis-tened to much better bands like TheTroggs, The Lyres, The Devil Dogs, andmaybe even that gay ass Gary Numanrecord your brother’s band tried to playalong to. (If you’re over the age of 25 –replace “brother” in the above sentenceto “you”). Word up, Tucson rocks!–Miss Namella Kim (The Okmonics)

PAINT IT BLACK:

4-song demo: CDEPHell yeah. I still spend many a day dri-ving around with Kid Dynamite blast-ing out the stereo, and even though I trynot to dwell on the past too much onbroken-down bands, I wished theywould have continued. Ahh, sweet ful-fillment. Guitarist, songwriter, licensedkid head shrinker, and all-aroundthinker, Dan Yemin has teamed up withhis Lifetime and KD drummer, DaveWagenshutz and a three other like-minded hardcore fools and made fourall-too-short, all-so-sweet songs that hasme sitting next to my stereo with a lineof drool that connects my mouth to thefloor. Sooo good. It’s hard but it’s so, socatchy. Want more. Gimme, gimme,gimme some more. –Todd (Paint It Black)

PINK HOLES: Breakfast with the Holes: CDSeventies trash punk a la the Pagansfrom a band apparently active duringthe same period. Some of this was pret-ty darn good and others were, well, notso interesting. If you’re some kind ofcompletist, this’ll probably float yourboat well enough. –Jimmy Alvarado(Smog Veil)

PLUS ONES, THE: It’s a Calling: CDGoddamn the Plus Ones. I hate mostpop music these days, but the samething happens every time I hear one oftheir friggin’ releases: just as I’m aboutto dismiss it as the pile of pop pap it is,they throw in that one song that just putsa wrench into the whole thing and I

gotta go back to square one and reeval-uate the whole damned release again.This release is no different. The song inquestion is “Serve in Heaven/Rule inHell,” a nearly flawless piece ofTeenage Fanclub-esque punked-out popwith a seriously infectious hook. Beforethat song made its appearance, I waspretty icked out by the whole affair.Now I’ve gone back and, lo and behold,I’m hearing all kindsa weird shit buriedunder those guitars, including echoes ofthe Who, the Jam and, of all things, thefriggin’ Vapors. Now I gotta keep thisdamned thing ’cause I found I actuallylike more than three quarters of thesongs on it. I hate when that happens.Goddamn the Plus Ones. Who the hellare they to make a pop album that does-n’t blow sheep? Cheeky bastards.–Jimmy Alvarado (Asian Man)

POCKET ROCKETS, THE:Discrete and Powerful: CD-RThis is straightforward grunge-stylebarroom rock that’s musically similar toThelonious Monster, Dinosaur Jr., MeatPuppets, and early Soul Asylum.Although the vocals are just a tad tooslurred, whiny, and annoying for myinebriated tastes, the tight instrumentalinterplay is perfectly created with theutmost of talent and finesse. And eventhough a couple of the well-versedsongs on here suffer from watered-down sluggishness, this is still a fairlyunique aural offering that will assuredlyreceive a decent amount of attentiveaffection from my ears. The PocketRockets just might be on their way to ahigher plateau of sonic splendor in thevery near future, so be on the look-out,folks. –Roger Moser, Jr. (Independent)

PSOMNI: Minimalism: CDMan, this is a well-structured musicalcollage of exotic, lightly industrializedsounds with hypnotic soul-stirringflourishes of Eastern mysticism! It’s asif a shamanistic band of gothic electron-ic minstrels were performing in an alter-nate dimension in a sacred Hindu tem-ple in Calcutta. Imagine The Cure,Bauhaus, and Jane’s Addiction beingsubmerged in the spiritual holy watersof the Ganges River for one mortal life-time and then being reincarnated as anethereal sonic swirling dervish that cannever be tamed, quieted, or put to rest.Psomni are aurally omnipresent and asresplendently colorful as life itself.They are to my ears what frothy brewednectar is to my soul. Now if you’llplease excuse me, I’m gonna turn offmy mind, relax, and float downstreamawhile. –Roger Moser, Jr. (Spat!)

PUT-DOWNS, THE: Wrong Side of Texas: CDI don’t know anything about MortvilleRecords except that they seem to have areal ear for great rock’n’roll. I saw thisalbum in the review bins and remem-bered that I’d had luck with Mortville inthe past. I was surprised just how luckyI got. The Put-Downs are the real find ofthis round of record reviews. The toughthing is, I’m not sure exactly why. It’sgood, solid rock’n’roll. There’s not awhole lot of punk to it. It’s not verytrashy. It’s uptempo, but not that fast.On the surface, it’s not really all thatoriginal. The key to The Put-Downs,though, is that they follow through on

their punches. They remember to followthe rock up with a good bit of roll. Theypile one catchy song on the next. Theycreep into your brain and have yousinging along with songs before you cansay for sure what the band’s name is.More than anything, they give me thesense that they’re the only three punkkids in some small town in Texas and noone will hang out with them so theyhang out with each other, listening toBuddy Holly and the Motards records,practicing all the time, and playing gigsat places where the guys at the bararen’t sure whether they want to fightthe punk kids or join into the pogo.–Sean Carswell (Mortville)

PUT-ONS, THE: A Different Kind of Single: 7”Hey, this is snotty melodic pop punkwith Clash leanings. There’s lots ofchant-along lines. Hee hee, I likes themeven with my cheap record player skip-ping continuously. If the Buzzcockswere in OC during our modern times, Iguess they’d play with The Put-Ons.Then again, I could be wrong and theycould really be from England. Oi!–Namella J. Kim (Manic)

QUETZAL: Sing the Real: CDDepression has a funny way of creepinginto your life. For me, a few events havehappened recently that made medepressed. The magic of music is that itcan ease your pain in many ways andmimic what you are feeling. This CDhas come to be cherished by me becauseof events that have transpired. Fromwhat I know of this band, they are basedhere in LA. I saw them as an openingact for Ozomatli and was taken abackby their beauty of expressing them-selves by music. It’s mainly sung inSpanish with a few songs sung inEnglish. They blend an almost Santana-like mix of latin beats with a jazz andblues mix. What I took to heart is theirsong “Jarocho Elegua.” I have no ideawhat the song is about. But the beautyof the song, lyrics sung in Spanish, andthe music it transfers is the rare event ofthe perfect song. I would not changeanything about it. Brother and sister,Martha and Gabriel Gonzalez, interactwith such passion that knowing thetranslation to this song might spoil it forme. I feel it, so I enjoy it.–Donofthedead (Vanguard)

REAL PILLS, THE: Nine Long Years: CDThe Real Pills have a very straightfor-ward, mid-tempo garage sound, andNine Long Years is a sonic driven popalbum. There’s a lot of Mersey Beat inhere, with the drums bouncing mostlyon the snares and symbols and very lit-tle bass drum. The Real Pills definitelyaren’t treading on any new ground here.In fact, they seem to be following a verysimilar path to the one that the Gearstook over twenty years ago. Still, it’s apretty good path to follow, and this is anenjoyable album. –Sean Carswell(Mortville)

REPROACH: Thrash Mayhem: 7”Holy fuck! From the country ofBelgium, these straight, to-the-pointfastcore monsters graciously record an

EP for the world to hear. Manic vocalsare screamed to express his point. Theguitar and bass are strummed to nearcollapse. The drummer pounds away ata manic rate of beats per minute thatmust look like he is an image of a blur.There’s nine songs that go by so fastthat I have to keep getting up to flip therecord over. Grrr! –Donofthedead (Kid for Life)

REV. NORB: Touch Me, I’m Weird!: CD From the spandex-sportin’ singer ofBoris the Sprinkler comes a themed soloalbum! If you have just broken up witha lady or man friend, and wanna bepissed off with someone else, why notRev. Norb? Songs about bein’ donewrong, bein’ mad, bein’ spazzed out,and bein’ sad. It’s not Boris theSprinkler, it’s all Norb, all the time. Ifthis were a cereal, it’d be Lucky Charmsafter your ex stole all the marshmal-lows. –Maddy (Bulge)

RIFFS, THE: Dead End Dream: CDThese scruffy, leather-jacketed musicalmarauders are the ultimate balls-outdefinition of crazed punkrock belliger-ence in all of its vicious flesh-slashingglory. The songs are structurally similarto the snotty pogo-bouncin’ madness ofthe Sex Pistols heavily loaded with thecocky, guitar-struttin’ swagger ofJohnny Thunders and the trashy gutter-roamin’ auditory demeanor of the DeadBoys. The coarse urban-jungle lyricsbrusquely conjure decadent inner cityimages of trash-strewn back-alleys

inhabited by pimps, prostitutes, anddrug-addled razor-wielding commoncriminals. “Dead End Dream” is thesick’n’sordid sound of hopelessness,despair, boredom, addiction, and unsa-vory nocturnal unruliness. It’s thecacophonous clamor of an indignantgeneration of youth outta their heads onamphetamines, ale, and loutish insolentmisbehavior. Definitely my kinda incor-rigible sonic sleaziness! –Roger Moser, Jr. (TKO)

ROCKET FROM THETOMBS: The Day the EarthMet the...: CDA collection of assorted demo and livetracks from this long dead but veryinfluential band, slapped together torecreate “the greatest album NEVERmade.” For those not in the know, this isthe link between Pere Ubu and the DeadBoys, a super group, if you will, con-taining members of both of those bandsbefore they were anybody. With great(although occasionally a little raw)sound quality, this is a must have forfans of either band, if for no other rea-son than to hear early versions of now-classic songs like “Sonic Reducer,” “30Seconds Over Tokyo,” and “FinalSolution,” not to mention a couple ofStooges covers. Hell, the majority of thesongs from the first Dead Boys albumsare here, and let me say that until you’veheard David Thomas belt out “WhatLove Is,” you just ain’t lived.Recommended. –Jimmy Alvarado(Smog Veil)

ROMANS, THE:

You Only Live Once: CDThe Romans were an LA surf band inthe early ‘80s. More muscle car than hotrod, these songs have moxie, and it’seasy to imagine Estrus founder DaveKreiger listening to The Romans in theReagan years up in Yakima,Washington, and sporting a Douglas fir-sized woody. Make no mistake about it,The Romans are a surf band, but likeThe Mermen and Man or Astroman?that came after them, surf is a spring-board that launches them into a placeswith the freedom to explore somethingnew and different. Punk rockers takenote: Rob Ritter of The Bags, Gun Cluband 45 Grave was in the band for aminute. Dinah Cancer also appears onthe record, belting out a screen sirenscream on a tune called “Blob!” Thebonus tracks are the real gems here. Theinstrumental “Black” is pretty cool, and“It’s a Lie” and “Slave” are great punkrock songs that are reminiscent of AgentOrange and could not have come fromanywhere else but Southern California.“Chasm,” the apocalyptic final track islike Tarzan trapped in an ancientAfrican temple on mescaline, the slo-mo drums seeping into his skull as theenslaved masses chant his soul to hell.A totally bitchin’ horror show. You OnlyLive Once is the first release fromWarning Label Records, and it’s a greatone. –Money (Warning Label)

SACRILICIOUS: Seven Songs: CDMore fucking emocore. Wouldn’t havebeen so bad if the singer didn’t soundlike such a whiny prat. –JimmyAlvarado (New Disorder)

SCAREDYCAT: Self-titled: CDGoofy, funny hardcore from a group ofvery proficient musicians. This is a pret-ty fun disc and the music’s tight, but Ithink they probably go over much betterin a live setting and, not having seenthem live, this album most likelywouldn’t make it to a second listen here.Put another way, this ain’t bad, but itain’t mind blowing, either. –JimmyAlvarado (No Label)

SELBY TIGERS: The Curse of…: CDI love it when you can listen to an albumand tell that the band has a great recordcollection. Take the Selby Tigers, forexample. You can hear a bit of theUndertones, a little Vibrators, a healthydose of X-Ray Spex, some of DillingerFour’s give and take, some of EddieCochran’s guitar work, but you can’tnail down any of those bands and say,“These guys sound like this band.”That’s the brilliance of the Selby Tigers:they have great influences and knowhow to blend them together and comeout with something very original. Everytime I listen to this album or their firstalbum, Charm City, I wonder whyeveryone isn’t going nuts over thisband. Everything is here. Their music ishonest and sincere and energetic androckin’, but they’re also really skilledmusicians, and they write great songs.So why aren’t they huge? It has to dowith the Curse of the Selby Tigers,which is this: you have to listen to aSelby Tigers album five times to love it.The first time you listen to it, you’ll like

it, but you won’t know why. You’llthink, it’s different. It’s quirky. I think Ilike this. The second time you listen toit, you’ll still like it, but you won’t be sosure. Maybe it’s too different, tooquirky. The third time you listen to it,you’ll think, yeah, it is too different. Itjust doesn’t match the rest of my recordcollection, like a collared shirt in apunker’s closet. The fourth time you lis-ten to it, you’ll think, I don’t understandwhat I saw in this album in the firstplace. So you’ll listen to it once more,and everything will open up to you. It’llbe an epiphany. You’ll have listened tothe album enough to start picking upbits and pieces that you didn’t noticebefore. A guitar riff. Drums gatheringspeed. Arzu ripping through her vocalchords, then softening back into key. Ahidden bass line. It all comes together.You’ll be hooked. You’ll want to listento the album every day for months onend. You’ll wonder why everyone does-n’t love the Selby Tigers. Then, you’llrealize that no one listens to an albumfive times to understand it. You’ll real-ize that the Selby Tigers are victims ofsnap judgements. It would make yousad, but the album is too fucking good.You can’t be sad. All you can do is keeplistening and singing along. –SeanCarswell (Hopeless)

SELL OUTS, THE: Songs for a Knife Fight: 10”Well, allrrrright! Slip’n’slide rollickingguitar work and inspiring, snottyman/boy vocals from the Sell Outs isdefinitely not one to miss. Reminds oneof the great punkers of the past withoutreally breaking down and copying themto an annoying “T”(eengenerate) – likemost bands, you know who you are…Give it a try if you liked The Dirtys andinstinctively know what to do whensomeone yells out, “Gimme action!” orbetter yet, “It’s beer time!” –Namella J.Kim (Ken Rock)

SHRINKS, THE: My Mind’s Gone: 7” EPTaut, straight-ahead punk rock fallingsomewhere in the gray area between theHostage beach punk and the Rip Offtrash punk sounds. After two smokin’singles, these guys are making a namefor themselves and you’d be a completeidiot not to add this to your collection.Also included is an uncreditedSkrewdriver cover, which, althoughdevoid of any nazi lyrics, should piss offall the right people. –Jimmy Alvarado(Radio)

SHRINKS, THE: My Mind’s Gone: EP Decent punk rock in the Rip Off vein.Four songs, all rockin’, all catchy. Plus,the back cover has a photo of Corkyfrom Life Goes On! I bet these guys puton a good show. If this were a cereal,it’d be Cheerios – a cereal you canalways count on to be at least prettygood. –Maddy (Radio)

SICKTERROR/LEGION 666:Split: LPI’ve been in that fast punk rock modelately and was sent a copy of this awe-some split. Sickterror hail from Braziland unleash a fury of fast and heavypunk numbers that make you pretend

that you are doing stage dives usingyour couch. They provide with plenty,with fourteen songs that makes meapeshit for how good it sounds to myangry head. Legion 666 hail fromCanada and give you a reason to head-bang. Double bass drums, intricate gui-tar riffing that sounds dark, tuned low,and vocals that sound so evil that thesinger’s crying from singing in such alow tone. Fans of death metal shouldcheck this out. Its mixture of old schoolspeed metal, death metal, and crustmakes this a nice, sinister representationof your dark side. Odd combination forthese two bands but it can introduce anew fan to each other’s scene. Don’t becheap, send out the $10 to get this!–Donofthedead (Schizophrenic)

SIGN OFFS, THE: self-titled: CDThe Sign Offs belligerently unleash aberserk ear-blistering roar of crunchy,hard-rockin’ punk’n’roll ferocity that’sas spastic, crazed, and out-of-control asit gets! They’re angry, young, insolent,and pissed-off, and they raucously gen-erate a chaotic cacophony of hopeless-ness, desperation, and self-destruction.Take the most hyperactive elements ofSmogtown, D-Generation, Sex Pistols,and Dead Boys, launch ‘em through thehuge, gaping barrel of a megatonnuclear cannon, then sit back and enjoythe auditory fireworks as The Sign Offsturn the entire rock’n’roll world upsidedown. This full-force sonic spectacle isutterly amazing and downright impres-sive beyond belief! I demand that it beplayed at my funeral, because it’ll sure-ly raise me from the dead with a big ol’shit-eatin’ smirk draped across my face.–Roger Moser, Jr. (Disaster)

SIXSOUTH: A Hole Where theHeart Once Beat: CDPennsylvania screamo. Surprised mewhen the CD ended because I wasn’taware of the song breaks: sounded tome like one endless, humorless, spine-less weepathon. -Cuss Baxter (Scooch Pooch)

SLANDERIN, THE: ZombieGang b/w Burn Burn Burn: 7”EP (Headline) and PsychobillyLives: CD (Destroy)Psychobilly. I won’t even pretend toknow much about it beyond the standupbassist pulling triplets, pompadour buz-zcuts, spooky lyrics, and the proclivityfor hotrods, cemeteries, and ladies withshort bangs and corsets. I guess myaversion is that most of the time itcomes across like an uninterestingmusical version of Tales From the Cryptby people who spend a lot of timecombing their hair and getting concus-sions in their bathrooms from slippingon all that fallen grease. Slagging anentire musical genre – and their fans –aside, I give The Slanderin a heartythumbs up. Their gas is high octane,they’ve got fat guys on guitar and drums(which, for some reason, is always aplus for me when liking bands), it’s fastenough for a punk to like without think-ing too much, and although the lyricsare completely retarded, it just seems toadd to their desired deranged ambience.Nice change of pace. If you wish TigerArmy was spliced with street punk or

The Reverend Horton Heat neversmoked so much weed, you’d get TheSlanderin. –Todd (Headline, Destroy)

SLANG: Skilled Rhythm Kills: LPJapanese hardcore, in my opinion, isone of the greatest scenes out there.Almost everything I get to hear fromJapan is great. This proves my point onemore time. One sheer powerful outburstof angst that holds you by the skin ofyour teeth. The power builds as the introto the first track entrances you intofocusing what might lead ahead. Onceunleashed, hardcore mayhem throwsyou back against the wall as the noiselevel forces you backward. No happi-ness here. Just straight forward hard-core. Modern day hardcore mixed withhints of Japanese punk from the past.The intensity does not withdraw fromsong to song. Menacing songs are sungin Japanese with a powerful backing ofslightly metallic guitars. No genericposturing here. The song writing is wellorchestrated and perfected for the earsto hear. Anger management at its best.It’s absolutely incredible how withoutunderstanding what is sung, you areaware what is supposed to be felt.–Donofthedead (Conquest Wake)

SMACKIN’ ISAIAH: Benefitsof Thinking Out Loud: CDI saw these guys open up for the Co-Dependents at Chain Reaction and theyknocked my dick in the dirt. Multiplesingers, stop-start rhythms, sophisticat-ed time changes compounded with furi-ous guitars – I thought I was back atBollocks watching Dillinger Four forthe first time. Never mind they hadcome all the from New Bedford,Massachusetts, where Moby Dick waswritten, the thirtysomething O.C. teensdidn’t quite know what to make ofthem, and Smackin’ Isaiah held nothingback. No chorus, scant repetition, eachsong is a prose poem set to music, along message left on an answeringmachine at three o’clock in the morningthat you can never take back. Benefits ofThinking Out Loud gets my vote for bestsurprise album of the year. –Money(Smackin’ Isaiah)

SPIDER VIRUS: SV Action: CD-RThis is upbeat, poppy, crunchy, intoxi-cating, dazzling, and inviting! It’s a per-fectly structured blend of euphoric pow-erpop intricacies and harder edgedbursts of frolicsome rock’n’roll raw-ness. It’s jubilant, bouncy, and down-right addictive like a lemonade slushcoolin’ the throat on an uneventfulhot’n’humid summer afternoon. Mybrew-sloshed old ears distinctly hear asweet swirling whirlwind of influencesthat range from The Beatles and Weezerto Badfinger, Cheap Trick, SoulAsylum, Paul Westerberg, andPortastatic. This is exactly the kind ofdisc I’d play in the calm shade of awarm spring evening while lounging ina hammock, sipping a cold brew, anddreamily gazing at the fluffy lumberingclouds lazily floating high overhead.Aaahhh, I’m feelin’ all bubbly inside…–Roger Moser, Jr. (Spat!)

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SPITALFIELD/DON’TWORRY ABOUT IT: Split: LPDWAI suffer from trying to be goofyand woah-woahy, like Gorilla Biscuitsplaying a senior prom in a Sha-Na-Na‘50s style. Innocuous, as confusing as itis annoying, but ultimately bland. Notso good. The more I listened to it, theless I liked it. Spitalfield: Harmless popthat has its moments but largely solelyrepeats the good parts until over andover until it gets boring. Dude, I thinkmy tolerance for second-tier pop punkjust bottomed out. Even the hypnotizingyellow and blue swirls in the wax aren’tconvincing me otherwise. –Todd (Walk in Cold)

STAKEOUT, THE: Jaded: 7”I’m going to use the reference that myfriend used when he gave this to me. Hesaid that this band is like “Boston/DChardcore from Finland.” I definitelyhear it. With a mixture of GovernmentIssue, The Freeze and the FU’s, theseFins have paid tribute with high regard.Ah, the memories. Brings me back towhen I first started hearing bands fromother states before other countries. It’samazing how good this sounds to theseears and that good musical genres canstand the test of time and can get recre-ated for new generations to come.Brutal, tough and direct without fallingapart in a mass of noise. –Donofthedead(Burst of Anger)

STRUNG OUT: An American Paradox: CDMaybe I’m wrong, but the kids shouldbe loving these guys. They have thatperfect MTVX sound that would appealto the masses. Melodic punk rock that isinfused with a slight metallic guitarsound and big production. I might notbe into to it now, but later could beanother answer. The publicity photo isworth having this for me.–Donofthedead (Fat)

STRUNG OUT: An American Paradox: CDThis record gives me anal drips.–Money (Fat)

SUNDAY DRUNKS, THE: Self-titled: CDThink New York Dolls with just a dashof ‘60s garage rock. Not bad. –JimmyAlvarado (Dead Beat)

SUPER CHINCHILLA RESCUE MISSION/ THE TIMVERSION: …Go Halves on aBastard: Split CDOf course, we’re big fans of SuperChinchilla Rescue Mission here atRazorcake. Why else would we haveput this unknown band that had releasedonly one EP on the cover of issue #5?So am I stoked to have new stuff fromSCRM? Yes, I am. These guys seem toget tighter every day. They take all thepassion and drive of Jawbreaker circaTwenty-Four Hour Revenge Therapy,throw away the whining parts, add anamazing second guitarist, and blow shitcompletely out of the water. On top ofthat, the singer, Seth, writes some of thebest lyrics I’ve ever heard. Each songtells its own story of drunkenness and

disenfranchisement, but, again, hethrows out the whining parts. If youhaven’t given SCRM a chance yet, Idefinitely recommend that you pick upthis CD. The toughest thing aboutputting out a split with SCRM, though,has to be trying to figure out who canfollow them up. Luckily, the TimVersion steps up to the plate drives therunner home. Think of a more melodicHot Water Music. Or think of Radonpicking up the tempo and adding anoth-er guitarist. Or Tiltwheel with a south-ern accent. The Tim Version are catchywithout being poppy, and they’re theperfect match for SCRM. It’s one ofthose immaculate splits, where you caneasily tell when one band ends and theother starts, yet both bands complimenteach other really well. –Sean Carswell(ADD)

SUPER CHINCHILLA RESCUE MISSION/ THE TIMVERSION: …Go Halves on aBastard: Split CDPicked this outta the pile based onTodd’s raves about the first band, anddamned if he ain’t right.Superchinchillayaddyadda are a mostexcellent band, poppy without beinglame, hard without being macho, emo-tional without being wimpy and prettyrockin’ to boot. We sometimes disagreeon music, but I feel where you’recomin’ from this time, homenugget. TheTim Version sounds pretty much thesame as Superblahblahblah, so I guessthat means they’re pretty nifty as well.–Jimmy Alvarado (ADD)

SWEATMASTER: Hold It!: 7”“Hold it in your mouth.” Hee hee. Hesaid, “in your mouth.” Huh huh huhhuh. White trash, whiskey tarnishedvocals mix with simple three chord dirttracked rock’n’roll. I still get gigglywhen I hear shit like this. “Wanna See ItDone” is more of the big drum soundsand pervy, double entendre lyrics. Heehee, sexy. –Namella J. Kim (Bad Afro)

THINGZ, THE: Self-titled: 7” EP A decent slab of ‘60s-influenced lo-fipunk. A little more “oomph” could’vebeen put into the performance, though.May I suggest shotgunning twenty cupsof coffee each right before your nextrecording session? –Jimmy Alvarado(The Thingz)

THIS BIKE IS A PIPE BOMB:Front Seat Solidarity: LPIn its finest hours, DIY breeds ingenu-ity, not whining. I can’t stop listening tothis LP. TBIAPB and Plan-It-X Recordsliterally reek of doing it themselves,from the hand-printing record covers oninsides of other bands LP sleeves, toincluding a hand-made sticker andpatch, and just the fact that theyreleased this on vinyl because Rymodeedoesn’t have a CD player is so reassur-ing that all’s well and good in the under-ground. However, all of the precedinggood intentions would mean dick-all ifthe band wasn’t good. They’re not.They’re flat-out great. They’ve got thewarm fire of Woody Guthrie burning onpunk’s mattress and the result is the bestof both worlds. Intelligent, story-tellinglyrics about cancer being the new black

lung disease, the glorification of bodycounts on TV, the Selma FreedomMarches, and how depression can be auseful tool, all sung in a real arm-around-a-friend unpretentious way.What’s striking is how straight, true,upbeat, and believable their voice ofrebellion is. The oscillating male/female vocals just sweeten the pot.There’s no affectation, no pretense, justgood ol’ fashioned, forward thinkingprotest music. Listened to this at leastfifty times already and like it more eachtime. –Todd ($7 ppd. Plan-It-X, ThisBike Is A Pipe Bomb)

TIME SPENT DRIVING:Walls Between Us: 10”Time spent dry heaving. –Todd (Sessions)

TOKYO ADVENTURES: One Kiss for Luck: CDThis falls into the school of needing afew listens before you can judge if youlike it. On first listen, I hear a slowerversion of the Teen Idols mixed withWeezer. It just doesn’t come right outand smack you in the face. So if you arenot paying attention, it can be easilywritten off. With more attention, youhear the great melodies. The back-ground choruses are infectious with allmembers participating. For pop fanat-ics, this is a great discovery.–Donofthedead (Boss Tuneage)

TOTAL SOUND GROUPDIRECT ACTION COMMIT-TEE: The Party Platform...Our Schedule Is Change: CDFrom the packaging, I totally expectedsome sort of Nation of Ulysses pseudo-philosophical soul rock, which I guess itis, but I didn’t expect it to sport bothTim Kerr AND his former fellow, singerMike Carroll from the truly great Poison13. Just to hear those two workingtogether again is a real treat. TSGDACis less locomotive than that band, butnearly as good, with Tim’s magic, rol-licking string work and fine organmanipulation on top. The folks at Estrusmust be terminally constipated, becausethey haven’t dropped one single turd inthe music pool yet. -Cuss Baxter(Estrus)

TOXIC NARCOTIC: Had ItComing: 7” EPThe a-side, “Cockroach,” plays muchlike Citizen Fish or Against AllAuthority, who can also pull off slowerska textures, increase the pressure, andrelease the trap door into free-falling,free-wheeling gutter hardcore. On topof that, Toxic Narcotic can also tacklepolitically aware songs without sound-ing like they’re reading it off the side ofa cereal box. “War Song 2k” is a rustyknife of a song with almost goat-throatyvocals that people who don’t bathe andlike to patch up their pants tend to love.My ears may be deceiving me, but Ithink I also hear a double bass. ToxicNarcotic’s definitely always beendiverse (I remember a bag pipe onanother song) but it just seems thatthey’re getting more and more powerfulas time goes on. Great 7”. –Todd(Rodent Popsicle)

TRAGEDY: Can We Call This Life?: 7”How many 7”s are there that you cansay sound like war from the trenches?Not War, the funk band, but flat-outwarfare. It’s three heavy, punishing,huge, fast, thickly textured, and essen-tially flawless hardcore songs. Insidethe bombast are tight hooks, soaringguitars, and a black, atmospheric feelinglike you’re about to be mustard gassedand the enemy’s popping up a flare intothe darkness to triangulate exactly howto kill you through your stereo. Theplaying’s impeccable (it flays andslays), the recording’s incredibly thick,and it’s surprisingly catchy. As an addedbonus, it has one or several folks fromHis Hero Is Gone. If you’ve got one hairon your body (even a tiny one near yourelbow) that likes hardcore, you can’tpossibly go wrong with this. I can’tseem to crank my stereo high enough.–Todd (Tragedy, no address, but I got itthrough Some Strange Music)

TRAILER PARK TORNADOS: Heroes of the Hopeless: 7”Man oh man, my ears ain’t never beenthis brutally roughed-up! TPT brazenlyunleash a loud, amped-out cacophonyof trashy, barroom-brawlin’ rock’n’rollmadness that’s undeniably beastly andprimal. They’re sonically similar to TheHot Pockets, Big Boys, The Bulemics,and The Daylight Lovers – only sloppi-er, grittier, and more aggressive! Ear-mangling musical mayhem like this isalmost always guaranteed to crack myskull wide open, flip my brain upsidedown, and then make me commitunspeakable acts of drunken debauch-ery. Waaaah-hooo, that’s just how I likeit! –Roger Moser, Jr. (Big Neck)

TRASSELS, THE: Grifter: 7”It’s amazing where you find interestingand rad stuff from around the world. I’mnot as connected as many might think. Ido actively trade with a friend fromFinland. He always sends me greatstuff. My criteria to him for sending mestuff is always anything. This is one ofthose things. This band is an all-starband of sorts. Featuring members ofFinish punk bands Kuolleet Kulat, ValseTriste, Mellakka and others. Going forsomething different, they do more of astraight forward rock escapade. I hear a‘60s garage punk influence mixed witha surf beat ala Agent Orange – melodiesthat make me want to jump up anddown doing the shimmy, go out and buysome mod clothing and grow out myhair and wear a Beatles bowl cut.People that are into the (International)Noise Conspiracy will relate to this. I,on the other hand, feel this is far superi-or to the latter. –Donofthedead (Killer)

TULLYCRAFT: Beat Surf Fun: CDLame college smart-guy pop with adash of surf thrown in an embarrassingattempt to garner cool points. Should bekicked in the nuts for false advertising.–Jimmy Alvarado (Magic Marker)

TYRADES: Self-titled: 7” EPA damn good band with a minimalistsound that would’ve fitin nicely with the late 91

‘70s/early ‘80s art punk scene, meaningit’s annoying in all the right ways. Adefinite keeper here. Great cover of theDicks’ “Lifetime Problems,” too. GaryFloyd must be beaming with pride.–Jimmy Alvarado (Big Neck)

U.S. BOMBS: Lost inAmerica/Live 2001: CDWooo-hooo, it’s the U.S. Bombs in allof their loud, obnoxious glory – live,uncontrollable, and in your mother-fuckin’ face! This is a chaotic collectionof some of the most pissed-off soundsthat’s ever been insolently tossed into afrenzied, slam-dancing crowd of unrulyspiky-haired punk hooligans. Recordedduring various balls-out performanceson their “Back at the Laundromat” tourin 2001, this hard-hittin’ disc vividlycaptures the U.S. Bombs at their mostfierce, tumultuous, explosive, and clam-orous. Such high-velocity and volatilesonic eruptions as “Tora! Tora! Tora!,”“Die Alone,” “Isolated Ones,” “RubberRoom,” “War Birth,” “The World,”“Goin’ Out,” “Yanks,” “Ballad of Sid,”and a bulgin’ barrel full more feverishlyscream their way outta this flesh-carvin’display of all-out auditory attitude. Lostin America is proof positive that theboisterously bad-ass Bomb boys are themost true-hearted and wildly animatedbunch of insurrectionist louts proudlykeepin’ the spit-stained spirit ofpunkrock alive and snarling today.–Roger Moser, Jr. (Disaster)

UNLUCKY FEW, THE: Promo: CDEP-RJust imagine, if you will, that Linkin

Park or one of those other “hardcore”bands had spent any extended amountof time at art school. –Jimmy Alvarado(<www.angelfire.com/rock2/theunluck-yfew>)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Beast of British: CDA pretty lackluster and, frankly, suck-ass comp of “punk” bands fromEngland. Although Annalise weigh in asthe best of the “new” bands containedherein, once again it’s those bands rep-resenting the old guard, namely theSubs and the Varukers here, that comeup with anything worth a piss, as theother bands prefer to wallow in theska/punk and post-emo cesspools thatdominate so much of the upper echelonsof the so-called scene these days. Reallysad when a bunch of old fucking menare more vital and relevant than theyounger generation of would-be rebels,ain’t it? Personally, I blame it on theTeletubbies and that purple fuckerBarney. –Jimmy Alvarado (Go Kart/Deck Cheese)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Broken Lamps and HardcoreMemories: CDA “hardcore” comp, in this case mean-ing heavy metal jock rock played bybald dudes with tattoos and walletchains, with chugga-chugga noise fromthe Movielife, Rise Against, DarkestHour, Walls of Jericho and bunch ofothers. Not surprisingly, I couldn’t finda single song worth a piss on this. Ohyeah, it’s a benefit comp. –JimmyAlvarado (<www.pastepunk.com>)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Fastmusic Punk 2001: CDI’m utterly knee-deep impressed withthis cacophonously pleasurable bundleof pure and poppy punkrock panache!It’s one of those giddy, feel-good compsthat causes me to jubilantly leap aroundthe room like a wide-eyed five-year-oldkid surrounded by a colorful abundantarray of sparkle-spangled packages onChristmas morning. My ears are frenet-ically twitching up a storm, and myheart is wildly palpitating like thereain’t no tomorrow due to the euphoricupbeat auditory hyperactivity on thishere CD. It enchants, intoxicates, andentrances the senses somethin’ silly!Consisting of a mostly clean-cut pop-punk line-up (includin’, but not limitedto: Slab, Down By Law, Gamits,Travoltas, Luckie Strike, The Fairlanes,The Fonzarellies, Welton, and numer-ous others), the wrath-like addition ofthe Circle Jerks (with a rousing demoversion of “Teenage Electric”) is a bitoff-kilter, but certainly more than wel-come. Hell yeh! Anyway, as I now sign-off with a resounding well-suited belch,I vigorously recommend this melodi-ously pristine release to you all. –RogerMoser, Jr. (Fastmusic)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Get Thee to a Nunnery: CDHardcore madness takes form in thismad assortment of bands brought to youfrom Craig of Schizophrenic. 9Curve:Japanese speed metal that makes youwant to mosh with all those long hairsyou used to despise. Black Mass ofAbsu: First track is death metal with

organs. Second track is grindcore withindustrial noise added for the mix.DS13: Do I have to even describe theseSwedish gods? Worth the purchaseprice for these tracks alone. Havaistys:Finish hardcore just the way I like it,abrasive and raw. Hyper HinduSquatters: More in the raw punk veinfrom what I’m assuming is an all-girlband from Japan. Kokosha Glava: Hereis something I didn’t expect from thiscomp. Belgium ska! Good change ofpace! Mormons: Raw demo-tape-sounding punk that is sarcastic. Freaks:Japanese pile drivers that force the issuewith great hardcore that is thick as muchas it is mean. The Knock-Up: Swedishgarage rockers who mix this thing uponce again. Banglin Bay: Another bandfrom Japan that gets sloppy withoutfalling apart and play fast enough tokeep me interested. Huono Olo: Oldschool sounding Finish punk. Demona:Ethereal noise probably made by a guyon his computer so that he can use it toaccompany his multimedia art project.Ten bucks buys you this diversity ofmusic. –Donofthedead (Schizophrenic)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Give ‘em the Boot III: CDIf any of these bands are one yourfavorites or you have the slightest inter-est of hearing what they sound like, youshould not hesitate on picking this up.Being the third of the series of cheapsamplers, this is a great value for a CDthat I think costs like four or five dol-lars. I’m going to list every band here soyou can make the choice. One songeach from The Distillers (their best songyet!), Dropkick Murphys, US Bombs,

Rancid, Lars Frederiksen & theBastards, F-Minus (!), Agnostic Front,Nerve Agents, Duane Peters & theHunns, Roger Miret & the Disasters,Leftover Crack, Nekromantix, TigerArmy (!), Devil’s Brigade, TheSlackers, Joe Strummer & theMescaleros, King Django, ThePietasters, Mouthwash (best fuckingnew ska song that I have heard in awhile), The Gadjits and Hepcat.Included for you computer geeks aretwo videos by Tiger Army and theDropkick Murphys. What a bargain!–Donofthedead (Hellcat)

VARIOUS ARTISTS:Homework #4: CDOkay, I’m gonna tell you all something,but you gotta promise you won’t tellChuck H2D: although I love all of theseries available on his label, theHomework series is, by far, my favorite.Why, you ask? One word: diversity.Sure, they’re all diverse in sound andbands, more so than most other compsout there covering the same material.The Homework discs, with the only cri-teria for inclusion seeming to be that thebands are American in origin and“DIY,” go waaaay out on a limb. Casein point, this installment. What you gethere is thirty-one tracks of music cuttinga very wide swath across the punk rocklandscape, ranging from quirky wave-pop to primal rock’n’roll to proto hard-core to no wave to that which defies cat-egorization. Most, if not all, of thetracks are long out of print and the qual-ity of both the sound and of the tracksthemselves are pretty high. Featuredtracks included on this installment comecourtesy of Half Japanese, 100 Flowers,Rachel Sweet, Really Red, VoodooIdols, Johanna Went, and a shitload ofothers. If you are one of the few leftwho remain steadfast to the rule thatpunk rock bands should strive to beunique, you’d have to be a completeblithering idiot not to pick up as manyof these discs as you can get your handson. –Jimmy Alvarado(<www.hyped2death.com>)

VARIOUS ARTISTS:Homework #7: CDMore American DIY strangeness here,this time around focusing on the more“experimental” side of things. It doesget pretty out there, but nothing herecan be said to suck and there’s enoughdiversity within the “experimental” tagto keep things interesting. For yourbuck, you get tape loops, synthcore,quirky pop punk, no wave and the likefrom featured bands like the AlgebraMothers, Brain Damage, Belle Star, BigStick, Babylon Dance Band (who wenton to become Antietam), Anti-Matterand oodles more. Recommended.–Jimmy Alvarado(<www.hyped2death.com>)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Hyped to Death #51: CDThe latest in this multi-volume series,this one is a little heavier on ‘77 punkand Detroit-style post-glam swaggerthan previous installments, but even if itain’t as diverse as some of the others,the song selection is still mighty highand there is still the occasional oddball

gem to be found here.

Highlights this time around includeChainsaw, Convicted (great slice ofearly ‘80s OC tuneage) CheetahChrome, Cracked Actor, Coldcock,Claude Coma and the IVs, Cinecyde,the Cads and others. –Jimmy Alvarado(<www.hyped2death.com>)

VARIOUS ARTISTS:Messthetics #6: CDH2D’s UK equivalent to its Homeworkseries, this one is just as varied andfilled to the brim with all sorts o’ weird-ness, from the primal punk rock of theBleach Boys to Crass posturing byHoney Bane (which makes sense, as theEP from which the track here was culledwas released on the Crass label) to theBuzz’s art-pop. Other groups featuredinclude the Avant Gardeners, Airmail,Big in Japan (a band who featuredmembers of Siouxsie, KLF and FrankieGoes to Hollywood), Bouncing Czechs,Beevers, Bloated Toads and B-Film, toname a few. In all, a good comp withsomething for every taste and a few newsounds you’ve probably never heardbefore. –Jimmy Alvarado (<www.hyped2death.com>)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: NewYork’s Hardest Volume 3: CDDude, not even the SOD tracks wereable to save this from penetrating thefurthest depths of suckdom. Bad metalpassing itself off as hardcore from theusual suspects: Agnostic Front,Inhuman, Ill Niño and others. Jeez,what a waste of time and money.–Jimmy Alvarado (Go Kart)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Pie & Ears Volume 2: CDThe second installment of an overviewof the Cleveland punk scene with bandsboth old and new. Includes tracks by theAK-47’s, Generics, Idiot Humans,Kneecappers, Styrenes, Offbeats andothers. The quality of the tracks both insound and delivery is surprisingly con-sistent. Although there are a couple of“why’s this on here?” tracks, songs likethe Idiot Humans’ “Toppling Stairs”make the whole thing worth it. Prettygood. –Jimmy Alvarado (Smog Veil)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Reno: Where Dreams Come to Die:CDSomeone’s gonna argue with me, but Igotta say This Computer Kills is theworst thing on here (I’m exempting theScurvy Bastards’ pirate Oi song,because that’s not going to fit in onANY record). Their two studious foraysinto dynamic playland just don’t cut thehigh intensity mustard peddled by therest of the bunch. Bands like Redrum,Headgrenade, the Livid and Vae Victisprovide conventional hardcore goods,Iron Lung takes it down in the cellar forthe sludge factor, and Bloody Victimmeets in the old clearing for a blackmetal seance (not something you gener-ally get on a punk comp, for sure).Don’t get me wrong, This ComputerKills don’t ruin the record for me, but Ithink I would’ve replaced them withanother Livid or All Opposed track andsat back to wait for the laurels to heapon. –Cuss Baxter (Sedition)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Teen Line #4: CDAnother subgenre from the folks atHyped to Death, this series covers theworld of power pop with just enoughskewering of the rules to get in a widevariety of different sounds to keepthings interesting. Covered in thisinstallment are North American bandsfrom the Q-Z portion of the alphabet.Included are rare tracks by the Quick(the original version of “Pretty PleaseMe,” now a staple in the Dickies’ set),the Zippers, 20/20, Paul Collins, RealKids, Silvain Silvain, Tuff Darts, TaxiBoys, Velvet Elvis and more. As can beexpected with a comp covering powerpop as a genre, the sicky sticky bub-blegum quotient inherent in the genre isin abundance. If you can get past the ini-tial saccharin shock, though, you’ll findthat there are many more good songs tobe found here than clunkers. –JimmyAlvarado (<www.hyped2death.com>)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: Teen Line #7: CDFirst off, let me say that the Stiv Batorstrack, a shameless piece of Mersey Beatworship, is pure genius. Why this songdidn’t burn its way up the charts in thesame way as “My Sharona” will remaina mystery. More power pop in a myriadof hues here, all from America, all fromthe letters B and C, all dang cool in theirown way. Featured this time around areCheese, Comateens, Conditionz, BeatRodeo, Clicks, Comets, Crash KillsFive and a bunch of others. For those ofus who like to know who the hell we’relistening to, liner notes are also includ-ed. Send all your lunch money now orexpect to be kicking yourself in the assten years from now, ‘cause this is somegood stuff. –Jimmy Alvarado(<www.hyped2death.com>)

VARIOUS ARTISTS: TheThing That Ate Floyd: 2X CDI was wondering if Lookout was evergonna re-release this. Originallyreleased on vinyl in 1988, this nowserves as a snapshot of what was goin’on in the Northern California punkscene during that time period (sheesh,it’s damn bizarre sayin’ shit like that’cause to an old fart like me, it seemslike last week), much like MRR’s Not SoQuiet on the Western Front did six yearsearlier. Like that collection, Floyd hassome good things goin’ for it, as well assome things not so hot. On the plus side,you get to hear what some of today’sfavorite bands sounded like when theywere first starting out, as this includestracks by No Use For A Name,Neurosis, Cringer (featuring future JChurcher Lance Hahn), Lookouts (fea-turing both former Lookout big wigLarry Livermore and a very young TreCool from some band whose nameescapes me) Operation Ivy (no need toexplain ’bout these guys, do I? Thetrack here is exclusive to this comp, bythe way), Bitch Fight (includes ToddSpitboy, one of the nicest people I’veever had the pleasure of meeting whileon tour [Thanks for turning me onto LosCrudos. I think the other guys in Ollinare still pissed at you for that, though,seeing as I’m STILL playing ’em todeath]. The song’s good, too, even if itis a blatant rip off of SLF’s “Here We

Are Nowhere”) Crimpshrine (Jeff Ott’sold band and something of a legendunto themselves), Stikky (members ofwhom did business under the nameSpazz) and others. You also get somechoice tunes from some other well-known bands, including Sweet Baby,Sewer Trout (“Vagina Envy” is ascream, even after all this time),Corrupted Morals, Tribe of Resistance,Steelpole Bathtub, Mr. T. Experience(hands down the best track here),Kamala and the Karnivores (also featur-ing Todd) and Capitol Punishment.They’ve also reproduced the bookletthat came with the original pressing,although there’s no update letting youknow what’s happened since to most ofthe people/bands represented here. Thebiggest minus is one inherited from theoriginal compiling of this epic: somebands on here suck just as bad as theydid way back when. Had this been a sin-gle LP effort, it would’ve easily been inthe running as one of best punk-relatedcomps ever. As it stands, though, it’s atbest an interesting look at a once-influ-ential scene, warts ’n’ all. Would’vebeen a neater idea if they’d re-releasedthe Turn It Around comp on disc withthe choice cuts from this comp. At leastthe result would’ve been consistentlygood. –Jimmy Alvarado (Lookout!)

VIRULENT STRAIN: Torture Tools: CDHard core punk in the vein of F-Minushere. The singer is a female that wouldprobably kick my ass. This is a prettyawesome CD. Not a single lull on it.With that said, why is the singer’s nameMercedes? Sounds like a titty dancer Iknew once. Damn, if this girl is a tittydancer, I need to find out where. Theway she sounds, I bet she’s a sight onstage, pinning her spiked heels intomen’s chests and ripping dollar bills outof their hands with an evil snarl. Whereis Allston, MA? –Toby (RodentPopsicle)

WARREN COMMISSION, THE: Tricked by Cleverness:CDEPI’m a dick. I really liked these guyswhen they played a basement inWashington DC or thereabouts, andasked for this CD specifically, but, goodlord, a fucking tambourine? On not justone song? Songs fit for the “Dawson’sCreek” soundtrack (they have that,right?)? What I liked in that sweatybasement wasn’t the perfectly har-monzied Edie Brickell weeping vagi-nathon (but it sounds like a thirteen-year-old, so I’m feelin’ like a pedophileright now), but a rockin’ band that –agreed, had arty moments – but bor-dered on new wave and reminded me ofDiscount. Man, I’m thrown for a loop.Is my memory that fucked? Has Pabstfinally conspired against me? Is my his-tory being re-written, like how theWarren Commission concluded that LeeHarvey Oswald “acted alone with noclear motive”? Arrrggh! A drummachine over an acoustic thingameybobon track four. More emo supreme fili-gree crying poo follows. Kill it. Kill it…Mommy, make it stop. –Todd (Espo)

94

WASTED: Down and Out: CDRancid and the Dropkick Murphysmove to Finland and start a street punkband, complete with the requisite chan-ty parts. –Jimmy Alvarado (CombatRock Industry)

WATCH IT BURN/TILTWHEEL: Split CDI’m a bad person. Watch It Burn are anall right band. They’re all accomplishedmusicians. I really liked their song“Radio Pollution.” They’re fun as hellto watch live – people bouncing all overthe place, things getting kicked over,getting beer baths, participating in alco-hol slip’n’slides, and performing mid-set liver transplants. But I still can’t getover how much like they sound like HotWater Music (the bass tone and playingstyle is almost identical and so are a lotof blips and bings) and how literal thelyrics are, like “this reminds me of aJawbreaker song, that I haven’t heard inso long.” Strangely, I wouldn’t be halfas critical of them if they didn’t sharethis with my favorite three-pieceAmerican punk band: Tiltwheel. It’s thehappiest desperation you’re bound tohear. Damn, these three songs are apowerhouse. The lyrics make you wantto kill yourself at your happiest lifemoment, or, conversely, see that glim-mer of hope when you think the rope’schoking you out. What’s so cool aboutthis triumvirate is that the three songsand three musicians all work perfectlytogether – fast and slow, angry andseeking penance. After listening to liter-ally hundreds of records a year for thepast eight years, Tiltwheel songs contin-

ue to always be in high rotation. It’s justfantastic music, regardless of genre.Quite possibly the best band you’venever heard. There’s a huge interview ofthem on our website. –Todd (ADD)

WATCHMAKER: Kill. Crush. Destroy: CDOops. Not Watchtower, and not Spazz,either, but somewhere about 15 degreesaway from directly in between. Crazybrutal metal with no wanky metal trap-pings. Drop this monkeyfucker in theplaying device and watch boredom runscreaming like a little boy. –Cuss Baxter(Wonderdrug)

WHITE TRASH DEBU-TANTES: Golden Greats: CDBack in late March, yours truly receiveda kick-in-the-ass-typa surprise when Igot to catch the White Trash Debutantesgigging with Hollywood Hate, and letme tell you, Mr. Smartypants, I waspleasantly surprised to see themupgrade to the next level of rocking acrowd’s ass off with their current line-up. The last time I had seen this outfitwas three years ago, and all I can say isthat this version of the group thatGinger Coyote has rounded up now ismore than enough reason to go seethem. And this CD is the old-fashionedrock and roll that fries you alive, like atwo-year-old sticking the end of hisunraveled Slinky into a power outlet.With a smashing rhythm section androaring chords of guitars, the Debscrush and crunch their way full-throttlethrough this disc, complete with the hot-cha-cha added singing of Tonia Bodley,

who sexily shakes and shimmies like alovely lost soul grooving through go-gopurgatory. Any real fan of rock andfucking roll (to coin brotherman BigMarty’s phrase and label) should get incontact with the Debs and get their wetand nasty hands on a copy of this heredisc. It’s got thirty-one trashy tracks topush the limits of your creepy, derelictDaddy’s speakers with, including aWayne County cover that your Momcan take to her next candle party andstart a sing-a-long with. What she doeswith the candles is her own business.Viva Ginger and the Debs! –DesignatedDale (White Trash Debutantes)

WHITEE: Sapphic Delight: CDA rap album with decent beats, weakrhymes and even weaker delivery.Another disc to clutter up the racks.–Jimmy Alvarado(<www.whitee.com>)

WIFEBEATERS, THE: Child Mulletstation: 7” The combination of some seriously shit-ty recording and the proud flying of theanti-PC flag should spell pure crap, butsomehow it works for me. The lyrics,about spouse abuse, militias, Asian dri-vers and rentacops (to the tune of “BadBoys” from COPS), are so bad I have toassume that’s part of the plan. Themusic part sounds like a 4 track record-ing (I wouldn’t be surprised if the wholeband is one guy) and the mix sucksworse than running out of Schlitz tenminutes after the stores stop sellingbeer. I guess some things are so wrong

they’re right, and this may be one. Iwouldn’t want my Mom to catch mewith it, though. -Cuss Baxter ($3.Wifebeaters)

YOUNG HASSELHOFFS: Get Dumped: CDYay! It’s like 1992 again (the golden ageof pop punk)! This is great! ThinkChixdiggit, the Parasites, and a little bitof the Beach Boys! Thank you, YoungHasselhoffs, for being a pop punk bandin the year 2002 that doesn’t suck! (Andthat is really saying something!) If thiswere a cereal, it’d be Honey NutCheerios – the basic pop punk formulawith, uh, the honey of harmoniesthrown in! The way pop punk shouldbe! Hooray! –Maddy (Reinforcement)

ZONIC SHOCKUM: Here Today...: CDLady-fronted dissonant punk rock thatwon’t be pigeonholed. Fast or slow,loud or quiet, stripped-down or sample-enhanced, it’s all here, and in just sixsongs, to boot. Seems like they’vematured a lot in the several years since Iheard something else by them, and I’mall for it. Never could cozy up to thename Zonic Shockum, though. -CussBaxter (Stain)

”Check out several morebrand spankingnew record reviews at www.razorcake.com

1-2-3-4 Go!!!, 716B 47th St. NE, Seattle, WA98105Adeline, 5245 College Ave. #318, Oakland, CA94618 A-F, PO Box 71226, Pittsburgh, PA 15213Alien Snatch, Morikeweg 1, 74199Untergruppenbach, Germany; <www.alien-snatch.de>Bomp/Disaster/Alive/Total Energy, PO Box 7112,Burbank, CA 91510Alternative Tentacles, PO Box 419092, SF, CA94141-9092Angry Planet, PO Box 141092, Dallas, TX 75214;<www.angry-planet.net>Anti-/Epitaph, 2798 Sunset Blvd., LA, CA 90026Apparatus Engine, PO Box 768, Downington, PA19335; <www.apparatusengine.com>Arkam’s Black Owl Records, 3000 County Rd. 10,Florence, AL 35633Asian Man, PO Box 35585, Monte Sereno, CA95030Attention Deficit Disorder, PO Box 8240, Tampa,FL 33674; <www.addwreckedkids.com>AVD, 8370 W. Cheyenne, Box 109-22, Las Vegas,NV 89129Bad Taste, PO Box 1243, S-221 O5 Lund, SwedenBadman c/o Martin Cesky, Nebrehovice 7, 38601Strakonice, Czech RepublicBAK, 870 N. Woodstock St., Philadelphia, PA19130; <www.bakrecords.com>Barse 77 c/o Liam Brown, 5 Pentlands Terrace,South Stanley, Co. Durham, DH9 6QJ, EnglandBeer City, PO Box 26035, Milwaukee, WI 53226Berserker, 411 S. Impala Dr., Fort Collins, CO80521Big Lizard, PO Box 72946, Las Vegas, NV 89170Big Neck, PO Box 8144, Reston, VA 20195Bingo Lady Record Collective, 119 N. Broadway,Billings, MT 59101Blasting Agents, 509 Caswell, Belvidere, IL 61008Blatherskyte, PO Box 40088 Rochester NY 14604 Blowback; <www.blowbacknet.com>Bomp/Disaster/Alive/Total Energy, PO Box 7112,Burbank, CA 91510Boss Tuneage, PO Box 74, Sandy, Bedfordshire,SG19 2WB, UKBraindart 1159 Midpine Ave., San Jose, CA 95122Brazen Hussies;<www.peoplesound.com/artist/brazenhussies> Broken Rekids, PO Box 460403, SF, CA 94146-0402; <www.brokenrekids.com>BRYCCHouse, 1055 Bardstown Rd., Louisville,KY 40204BYO, PO Box 67609, LA, CA 90067;<www.byorecords.com>C/Z, 4756 U. Village Pl. N.E. #469, Seattle, WA98105; <www.czrecords.com>Captain Oi!, c/o PO Box 501, High Wycombe,Bucks, HP 10 8QA, EnglandCheetah’s, PO Box 4442, Berkeley, CA 94704Cochebomba, PO Box 546, Randolph, MA 02368Curse, The; <phillycurse@hotmail.com>Demolition Derby, PB 4005, 2800 Mechelen 4,BelgiumDestroy All Records, 3818 Sunset Blvd., LA, CA90026Diaphragm, PO Box 10388, Columbus, OH 43201Die Slaughterhaus, 2373 Fenhurst Pl., Atlanta, GA30338; <theblacklips@hotmail.com>Dionysus, PO Box 1975, Burbank, CA 91507Dirtnap, PO Box 21249, Seattle, WA 98111Dischord, 3819 Beecher St., NW Washington, DC20007Disturbing, 3238 S. Racine, Chicago, IL 60608Diwphalanx, 2-3 Kanda Awajichou, Chiyoda-Ku,Tokyo 101-0063, JapanDragstrip 77; <www.dragstrip77.com>EKG, 1118 Walnut Unit H, Santa Ana, CA 92701

Elastic, PO Box 17598, Anaheim, CAEmbrooks, The, Flat 5 Belvedere Court, 12 TrinityCrescent, Folkestone, Kent CT20 2ET, EnglandEmpty, PO Box 12034, Seattle, WA 98122Estrus, PO Box 2125, Bellingham, WA 98227Excursion, PO Box 20224, Seattle, WA 98102Family Vineyard, PO Box 2161 Bloomington IN47402Fanboy, Weidenallee 29, D-20357 Hamburg,Germany; <http://fanboy.freepage.de>Farewell, c/o Micha Meyer, Gustav Freytag Str.18, 47057, Duisburg, GermanyFat Wreck Chords, PO Box 193690, SF, CA94119-3690Fiend Music, PO Box 41470, LA, CA 90041;<www.fiendmusic.com>File 13, PO Box 2302, Philadelphia, PA 19103;<file-13.com>Free Style, PO Box 85364, Seattle, WA 98145Friction, PO Box 6605, Grand Rapids, MI 49516G7 Welcoming Committee, PO Box 27006, 360Main Street Concourse, Winnipeg, MB R3C 4T3Canada Garage Pop, PO Box 8803, Rochester, NY 14618;<http://www.garagepoprecords.com>Gearhead, PO Box 421219, SF, CA 94142Ghoultown; <www.ghoultown.com>GMM, PO Box 15234, Atlanta, GA 30333Gravity, PO Box 81332, San Diego, CA 92138;<www.gravityrec.com>In The Red, 1118 W. Magnolia Blvd, PO Box 208,Burbank, CA 91506; <www.intheredrecords.com>Ipecac, PO Box 1197, Alameda, CA 94501;<www.ipecac.com>Jade Tree, 2310 Kennwynn Rd, Wilmington, DE19810; <www.jadetree.com>Johanns Face, 1624 W. Columbia Apt #1S,Chicago, IL 60626Junk, 7071 Warner Ave. F, PMB 736, HuntingtonBeach, CA 92647-5495; <www.junkrecords.com>Know, PO Box 90579, Longbeach, CA 90809;<www.knowrecords.com>KOB, Via Cantarane, 63/C, I-37129, Verona, Italy Last Place, 2076 W. Strasburg Rd., Coatesville, PA19320; <www.lastplace.net>Lobster, PO Box 1473, Santa Barbara, CA 93102;<www.lobsterrecords.com>Lookout, 3264 Adeline St., Berkeley, CA 94703;<www.lookoutrecords.com>Los Fastidios; <www.losfastidios.com>Mad Butcher, Bergfeldstr. 3, 34289 Zierenberg,GermanyMalt Soda, PO Box 7611, Chandler, AZ 85246Manic, PO Box 667, Huntington Beach, CA 92648Mock Orange, 5222 East Esche, Newburgh, IN47630Morphius, PO Box 13474, Baltimore, MD 21203<www.morphius.com> Mortville, PO Box 4268, Austin, TX 78765;<www.mortvillerecords.com>MuSick, PO Box 1757, Burbank, CA 91507Nation of Kids, 804 Stevens Ave., Huntsville, AL35801NDN, PO Box 131471, The Woodlands, TX77393-1471Neurot; <www.neurotrecordings.com>New Audio Terror, PO Box 8024, Minneapolis,MN 55408New Disorder, 115 Bartlett, SF, CA 94110No Idea, PO Box 14636, Gainesville, FL 32604;<www.noidearecords.com>Noma Beach, PO Box 735, Sonoma, CA 95476;<nomabeach@aol.com>On/On Switch, 780 Post Street, SF, CA 94109One Take, Lehmkaul 19, 66822 Lebach, Germany;<http://www.chicksrock.de>Pandacide, PO Box 2774, Petaluma, CA 94952;<www.pandacide.com>

Panic Button, 3264 Adeline St., Berkeley, CA94703Pezz, PO Box 42185, Memphis, TN 38104;<www.pezz.net>Pop Sweatshop, 2103 Harrison Ave NW, Suite #2,Olympia, WA 98502Punkcore, PO Box 916, Middle Island, NY 11953Radical, 77 Bleeker Street, NY, NY 10012Radio, PO Box 1452, Sonoma, CA 95476Reptilian, 403 S. Broadway, Baltimore, MD 21231Revelation, PO Box 5232, Huntington Beach, CA92615Rode to Ruin, PO Box 23409, Santa Barbara, CA93101 Rodent Popsicle, PO Box 1143, Boston, MA02134Rollin’ Rock, 2460 Casey Dr., Las Vegas, NV89120S&M, 800 Monterey Ave. #201, Morro Bay, CA93442Scooch Pooch, 5850 W. 3rd St. #209, LA, CA90036Scratch, 726 Richards Street, Vancouver, B.C.V6B 3A4, CanadaSDZ, c/o N. Mugnier, 12 Av. Du Parc, 92170Vanves, FranceSick Room, PO Box 47830, Chicago, IL 60647Slap A Ham, PO Box 7337, Alhambra, CA 91802-7337Slovenly, PO Box 204, Reno, NV 89504;<www.702records.com>Slow Gold Zebra, PO Box 20506 NY NY 10009;<www.crimsonsweet.com>Smallman, PO Box 352, 905 Corydon Ave.,Winnipeg, Manitoba, R3M 3V3, CanadaSmog Veil, 774 Mays #10-454, Incline Village,NV 89451; <www.smogveil.com>Snuffy Smile, 4-1-16-201 Daita, Setagaya, Tokyo155-0033, JapanSoul Is Cheap, PO Box 11552, Memphis, TN38111Sounds of Subterrania, PO Box 103662, 34036,Kessel, GermanyStardumb, PO Box 21145, 3001 AC Rotterdam,The Netherlands; <www.stardumbrecords.com>Static, 17215 Mack Ave, Detroit, MI 48224Strandad Sjobuse, c/o Fredrik Svensson, HödersVäg 2, S-611 50 Nykoping, Sweden; <http://van-ishingvanity.cjb.net> SupPop, PO Box 20645, Seattle, WA 98102Team Emu; <david.hoffman@agg.com>Thick, 409 N Wolcott Ave, Chicago, IL 60622 Thorp, PO Box 2007, Upper Darby, PA 19082Tinnitus, 250 Napolean St. Ste K, SF, CA 94124;<tinnitusrecords.com>TKO, 3126 W. Cary St. #303, Richmond, VA23221; <www.tkorecords.com>Tom Perkins Entertainment, PO Box 970936,Ypsilanti, MI 48197Touch and Go, PO Box 25520, Chicago, IL 60625Triple Crown, 331 West 57th St #472, NY, NY10019; <www.triplecrownrecords.com>Turbo A.C.’s, The, PO Box 20691 PABT, NY, NY10129; <www.turboacs.com>Twenty Stone Blatt, PO Box 14911, Grangemouth,FK3 8WA, Scotland;<www.twentystoneblatt.co.uk>Undisputed Heavyweight Champions, 2226Eastlake Avenue E #91, Seattle, WA 98102Unity Squad, PO Box 1235, Huntington Beach,CA 92647Your Funeral, 706-501 Pacific St., Vancouver, BC,Canada V6Z 2X6Zeno, PO Box 97281, Phoenix, AZ 85060

C o n t a c t A d d r e s s e sto bands and labels that were reviewed either in this issue

or posted on www.razorcake.com in the last two months

BARRACUDA #13,$3.50, 8 ½ x 11, offset,full-color cover, 44 pgs.I’ve got to say that I look forwardto every issue of Barracuda. I thinkit’s a throwback to the old stagmagazines of the forties and fifties,but I can’t say for sure because I’venever seen old stag magazines. Butevery issue of Barracuda had coolarticles on cars, low-brow art, and“Real Man Profiles”, as well as afew photo layouts of full-figuredwomen showing all the skin possi-ble without actually crossing theline into nudity. This issue has anexcellent article on the godfather ofmodern surfing, DukeKahanamoku; articles on how tofind a good mechanic and on one ofthe first cars to set the land speedrecord; photo layouts of threeattractive broads; some dry comics;and a bunch of other good stuff. It’sdefinitely a magazine that you wantto hang on to after you’re donereading it. –Sean Carswell(Barracuda Magazine, PO Box291873, LA, CA 90029)

BEARING EDGE #1,$2, 5 ½ x 8 ½, photocopied, 46 pgs.Being that this is a magazine dedi-cated to drumming and drummersand I know dick-all about the sub-ject (due, in part to using the blocksin third grade, and I knockingmyself out), my expectations weretempered. Man, what a cool read.Not only does Klaus have technicalquestions phrased in a way that anon-drummer can understandthem, he pulls off a broad range ofinterviews. You can’t get a muchwider berth of music from Spazz,Stryper, Smoking Popes, miscella-neous people at Guitar Center, apercussionist/educator, andAssuck, but all of the interviewsare extremely focused, geared tothe people he’s interviewing, andevocative. We learn that RobertSweet of Stryper still regrets theday his record company convincedthe Christian heavy metallers to notwear yellow and black stripedspandex and that Brendan Canty ofFugazi prefers Guy falling on him“because he has soft edges and I’ma people person.” The hidden gemin this zine is the interview withMax Ward of Spazz. Max deemedthe interview “too dumb,” so Klausgives the reader close insight intohis interviewing process by notonly answering his own questions,but explaining why he asked them.Highly recommended. A fine read.–Todd (Bearing Edge, c/o KlausBellon, 62 Creekwood Square,Cincinnati, OH 45246)

BUTTER PECAN ZINE, THE$1 or as many stamps as you can

spare, 11 x 17, photocopied, 2 pgs.

I think it’s called The Butter PecanZine; that’s what the envelope says,but it’s not actually on the“newsletter” anywhere. What is onthere is one really long paragraphin tiny type, filling every inch ofboth sides of one sheet, that mean-ders from Rasputin to Hitler toSouthern pride to Satanism in a sortof Outsider way that may or maynot be contrived. The writer talks acouple times about being currentlyinstitutionalized, but also mentionsdaily rum drinking – not a therapyI’m familiar with. The overall feel-ing is one of mysticism, with curs-es and spells and other new agespookiness, peppered liberally withpleas for donations and referencesto shimmying in the Hose of Betty.Do I think it’s just some “I’m soweird!” goth shenanigans? Yeah,but I can’t quite be sure. –CussBaxter (The Butter Pecan Zine, 127Walter’s Rd., Barnesville, GA30204)

CARBON 14 #20,$6, 8 ½ x 11, offset,full-color cover, 105 pgs.A thick, satisfying read, C14 skill-fully embraces the sleazier side ofthe punk rock spectrum, with low-brow art (Sunny Buick), smut (atopless Mami Van Doren, pinupphotographer Mark Anthony Lacy,and porn reviews), and a thickswath of punk on the rock’n’rollside of things (Adam West, ToiletBoys). A standout in this issue isthe interview with The Cramps. It’sodd to me that this band isn’t on thetips of people’s tongues when theytalk about the formation of punkrock on the west coast and, forsome reason, interviews with themare rare. Not only do Lux andPoison give a history lesson, theygo over how they re-captured theirentire back catalog from themajors, revamped it, made it better,and are now, twenty-plus yearsdown the road, in charge of theirfuture for the first time. I’m also afan of King VelVeeda (who is cur-rently getting sued by Kraft for thename) – a cartoonist who can beboth postmodern (in the sense thathe can question what art really is)and sleazy (is that a donkey hump-ing that lady?) and pull both offwell. He has his own fourteen pagesection inside the mag. Cool.–Todd (Carbon 14, PO Box 29247,Philadelphia, PA 19125)

CINEMAD #6,$3.95, 8 ½ x 11, offset,full-color cover, 60 pgs.Cinemad is definitely up there inmy top two indie-film magazines.Editor Mike Plante has his fingersolidly on the pulse of independentmovies. He has a real knack forfinding interesting, thoughtful

filmmakers; doing engaging inter-views with those filmmakers; andmaking you want to hunt down themovies when you’re done readingthe magazine. This issue has aninterview with Ray Carney, the guywho wrote a biography on film-maker John Cassavetes. Andthough I haven’t actually seen aCassavetes film, I was completelysucked into the interview because itwent so far beyond Cassavetes andhis films and became a really inter-esting discussion on what art is, theobstacles people overcome to bringtheir visions to an audience, theway people react to art, and so on.And it’s really not as fruity as thatlast sentence makes it sound. Thereare other insightful interviews withAlbert Maysles and GeorgeKuchar; an interview with KarenBlack that shows just what a twist-ed woman she really is; an articleon DIY film distribution; movie,book, and zine reviews; and awhole lot more. I read this issuecover-to-cover within the firstweek of owning it. I definitely rec-ommend it. Oh, and my favoritething in this issue was the interviewwith Ross Krantz, ProjectorRepairman. He’s just a real, down-to-earth guy who’s lived an inter-esting life and can tell a good storyabout it. –Sean Carswell (Cinemad,PO Box 360695, LA, CA 90036)

CHICKENHED ZINE ANDROLL #1, $1; 5 ½ x 8 ½;photocopied; 28 pgs.Stories about thinking back on pastmistakes! More Satan than you canspit at! Going back to old girls!Working as a cashier! Haikus!Some comics that look like theywere drawn during a smoke break!Pretty funny at times…. and roll!–Bradley Williams (C.Z.A.R., 248Defense Ave., Sandston, VA23150)

CHUNKLET #16 the Shit List,$6.95; 7 ¾ x 10;perfect bound/soft cover; 180 pgs.From the man who got himself tan-gled up with the publishers of MADover copyright issues, and broughtto light the biggest Assholes inRock comes the Shit List! This is180 pages of everything you needto read about. It’s got an interviewby Nardwuar! and stories on vari-ous topics such as: Rock’s WeakestLinks, Novelty Rap, the Man Hug,Ticket Master, Casino Gambling,Shitty Rock Poses, Shitty Jobs,Rock Fashion Paper Dolls, Fun atthe DMV, Dirt Eating (shamelesslywritten and plugged here by yourstruly), the Theremin, and SUVs.–Bradley Williams (ChunkletMagazine, PO Box 2814, Athens,GA 30612-0814)

Send all zines for review toRazorcake, PO Box 42129,

LA, CA 90042. Pleaseinclude a contact address, thenumber of pages, the price,

and whether or not youaccept trades.

98

CONCUSSION #14,$3.50, 8 ½ x 11, offset, slick cover,slick insides, 115 pgs.A real fine skate magazine. I was-n’t high, but I was really zoned outafter looking at the cover for aboutten minutes, and I learned therewere little imbedded skulls allover it. Concussion’s done a greatjob of making a good-looking,fully black and white skate mag.The paper’s high quality, so youcan see the tricks better than axerox dealie. I suspect it’s down-right difficult to do a skate magthat a.) doesn’t suck too muchadvertiser dick while it’s b.) stillbeing independent and somewhatfun and c.) paying some bills.Concussion’s rugged enough toplease the DIY weinie in me andclear enough to actually see someskate tricks I’ll never be able topull off. In fact, the whole issue islike the cover. At times, the lay-out’s chaotic, but I kept on flippingthrough it and catching new thingseach time: like the belt that dou-bles as a skate key, the fact that aguy’s skating a full pipe that isn’teven cleaned out, zines arereviewed on the shitter, and aphoto essay on how to kill proper-ly a sheep. If you get a tattoo ofthier logo, you get a free lifetimesubscription. -Todd (Concussion,PO Box 1024, Santa Cruz, CA95061-1024)

DICKIE SKIMASK TOILETTIME READER, THE: vol.1,$2; 7 x 8 ½;photocopied/color cover; 28 pgs.I don’t know what to do with thisone. It’s got too cute of a colorcover to use as toilet paper. It hassome sweet little poetry. Somesnappy observations. T and A! Fullof pictures with stories that seemto connect in a drunken sort ofway. This guy used to stand out onHollywood Blvd in a loincloth anda ski-mask. He would operateunder the title of Dick in a Ski-mask, and harass the tourists asthey would bend to have them-selves photographed next to BigBird’s star. “It’s not real!” he’dscream at them “it’s a man in a bigdumb yellow bird suit! You’rewastn’ your life!” I have to say thatI talked to this guy a few times. Hestunk of soured booze and seemedto always have a half-eaten box ofchicken wings with him. One daythe belligerent Hollywood shamanhanded me this reader. Shortlythereafter he was gone and hasn’tbeen back since. All that’s left ofhim is the DSTTR vol.1 and anaddress in Indiana. –BradleyWilliams (Dickie Skimask, 305 SWashington, Bloomington, IN47401)

DRUNK AND PISS

#6,$1; 4 ½ x 5 ½; photocopied; 69 pgs.I hate the label of “personal-zine.”It brings to mind Hello Kitty andlittle red diaries with a heart-shaped lock. Who ever came upwith the label of “personal-zine”should be rubbed down with poisonoak and duct-taped to a tree for theduration of any of the four seasons.Ah…. Drunk and Piss, I like thisone. I call it a “send $1 and anSASE now!” zine. –BradleyWilliams (Drunk and Piss, 11 AlgerDr., Rochester, NY 14624)

EXTREME CONFORMITY #4,$2.50, 4 ¼ x 11,photocopied, 68 pgs.Extreme Conformity is a clever lit-tle zine from Larry Nocella, theguy who does QuestionEverything, Challenge Everything(QECE). This issue is “The Troublewith Revolutions.” It’s a hilariousstory told completely in dialogueabout a local race for mayor. Twoclones run against each other andget confused as to which one ofthem is which. Aliens come in andcreate the perfect candidate: a dol-lar-sign-shaped creature with twopenises and one huge breast. Morethan anything, this creature justwants to be loved. I’m probablygiving away too much, here.Regardless, “The Trouble withRevolutions” is a funny story, andNocella does a good job of writinga biting satire without crossing theline and becoming jaded or cynical.–Sean Carswell (Larry Nocella, POBox 122, Royersford, PA 19468)

GARAGE AND BEAT! #5,$3.50, 8 ½ x 11, offset, 48 pgs. Man oh man, the illustriously spec-tacular content of this magnificentlil’ mag has once again marveledmy mind, dazzled my bloodshotbaby-blues, and robustly intriguedthe music-lovin’ kid in me to noend! Has the savvy sultan ofswingin’ sounds, P. Edwin Letcher(along with his uncommonly cre-ative crew of contributors), out-done himself with this brandspankin’ new issue? You bet yoursweet bippies! It’s a visually splen-diferous display of whimsical andinformative interviews (The BossMartians, The Electric Prunes, TheLords Of Altamont, The PhantomSurfers, The Sonics, and TheTreble Spankers); fanciful, enter-taining rants (McGough &McGear, Namelosers, and the usual“unifying theory” of Beatles-inspired rip-off groups and otherassorted cheesy sonic riff-raff); anda descriptively colorful variety ofinspirational record reviews galore.Each and every time I have thesupreme intoxicating pleasure ofreading GAB! cover-to-cover, Ieagerly absorb all of it in its grand-

ly titillating entirety. It alwaysinvariably brings back a flood ofnostalgic reminiscence regardingthe magical musical splendor thatsparkled and shined across the air-waves when I was a wee, snot-nosed tyke. Thanks for the memo-ries, Edwin. The next glass of ice-chilled, tropical-flavored kool-aidis on me! –Roger Moser, Jr. (P.Edwin Letcher, 2754 Prewett St.,LA, CA 90031; <www.garageandbeat.com>)

KER-BLOOM #31 & 33,$3, 4 ¼ x 5 ½, letterpress, 8-12 pgs.Got here two issues of a little zine Ijust found out about (but it’s beenaround since 1996). Each is justone story or article and little else inthe way of illustration. #31 tellsabout a trip to Ohio for anUnderground PublishingConference and #33 talks about abreakup, Bruce Lee, and Gil ScottHeron. The writing is lovely andpersonal without being sappy (arethere emo anarchists?Anarchemos?) and the bits are justthe right length. The real draw forme, though, is that every issue isletterpress printed. Think aboutthis: instead of blasting a master offyour inkjet and dropping it off atKinko’s, you set each letter in leadtype and crank the press yourself.Putting that kind of effort intosomething like this just makes itfeel better, like getting a Guinnessafter drinking Schlitz for twomonths. This is the for real ass DIY,y’all. –Cuss Baxter (Artnoose, POBox 3525, Oakland, CA 94609)

LIFE + DEATH #1,$2, 5 ½ x 7 ½, photocopied, 32 pgs. Walt Creel has some funny storiesto tell. Stories that come from liv-ing in a place where you can’t justgo to a bar and see a band for enter-tainment, you have to drive out intothe country and set things on fire orshit on things. That plus a storyabout shitting his pants at a jobinterview make up about two thirdsof the content. Most of the rest iscomputer-related (he’s a networkadministrator) and there’s a greatvoice-recognition-software tran-scription of a normal conversationthat’s fantastic. Unfortunately thelayout is bland, the photos look ter-rible and Walt’s writing could usesome work. I hope he’ll put a littlemore effort into his prose and gethis graphic designer roommate toshow him how to use Photoshopand keep putting Life + Death outrather than succumbing to the para-lyzing apathy that’s so common inhick towns. He may want to reeval-uate his diet, too, if you ask me.That much shitting just ain’t nor-mal. –Cuss Baxter (Dixie ZineDistribution, PO Box 2830,Auburn, AL 36830)

NEW SCHEME, THE #5,8 ½ x 11, offset, 56 pgs.They’ve got their hearts in the rightplace, it’s just that I seem to hate allthe bands they love and love mostof the bands they hate. I actuallystarted to think we’d never haveanything in common until thePromise Ring’s Wood/Waterreview, which has given me somehope that one day we’ll drink beertogether in joyous unison. Here’spart of the review: “Upon hearing[Very Emergency], I went from nota big fan to wanting to shit in myhand and throw it at them. Theirdoot-doot, cheese ball pop songswere hard to stomach once, letalone numerous times….Apparently even he realized thatthe days of singing poppy emosongs about unicorns and shit wereover.” Bravo, I say. –Todd (TheNew Scheme, PO Box 19873,Boulder, CO 80308)

PETER COUCH BY: JULIANTHURST, $1; 5 X 7;photocopied; 32 pgs.Every now and then you find some-thing that jumps out at the world,makes people question who theyare, and the ways of the worldaround them. Maybe after readingTreasure Island you want tobecome a pirate. What I’m talkingabout is POWER! —and that is notwhat you will find here. Actually Idon’t think that anything in thestory of Mr. Couch is serious, so ifyou get into jacked-up handwrit-ing, stories of the pimp-strolling-military-punk-dudes, bitches, blackguys, and dumb rednecks then thisone is for you. And, ah… the pricesays $4.95. –Bradley Williams (Noaddress for Peter Couch)

QECE #14,$2.50, 5 ½ x 8 ½,photocopied, 28 pgs.By this point, I think everyone ispretty much sick of hearing aboutSeptember 11. The zine review pilehere at Razorcake is full of storiesabout how people reacted to theevent. I know this sounds callous,but all of these stories do get tire-some. The disadvantage that zineshave, too, is that the mainstreammedia is able to respond so quicklyand go so far over the top withevery issue that, by the time someintelligent kid is able to type up hisviews, photocopy them, and getthem out for people to read, most ofhis audience has already been satu-rated and overexposed. So here wehave a case where I got this issue ofQECE about four months after Ifelt like I couldn’t read anotherstory about September 11. I mademyself read Larry Nocella’s storyanyway, because I know he’s agood writer. And, man, was Iimpressed. Nocella may have writ-100

ten the most balanced, thoughtful,and well-constructed response tothe events of September 11 thatI’ve read. He writes with a verycalm, even tone and his storycomes across as an antidote to all ofthe irrational, hysterical, andinflamed responses I’ve read. I rec-ommend this zine solely forNocella’s essay. There’s a lot moregood stuff in this magazine – all ofthe normal, high-quality writingthat make every issue of QECEworth it, but Nocella’s story, espe-cially, is one of those things thatyou want to photocopy and makeeveryone you know read. I was alsosad to see on the cover of this issuethe words “This Is the Last Issue.”Hopefully, Nocella is just goingthrough a slight phase and his frus-tration will wear off and QECE willkeep coming out. Just in case itdoesn’t, I recommend that you pickup a copy of this before zine youmiss out completely. –SeanCarswell (Larry Nocella, PO Box122, Royersford, PA 19468)

READ #20,$4.00, 8 ½ x 11,offset, full-color cover, 86 pgs.This is the “Adrenaline and Crush”issue, which means there are abunch of short stories and anec-dotes about the crushes differentwriters have had. It reads somewhatlike a sad list of unrequited geek

love, but it’s so endearing that Idon’t want to be critical of it. Infact, I love it when zines can pull ofwhat READ pulled off in this issue– get people who can write well totell their stories. So we have coolanecdotes about office romancesthat never happened or went awry,the bittersweet drama of the ele-mentary school “couple’s skate,”one woman’s history of crushesfrom adolescence on, and the ulti-mate in safe crushes: falling for theunobtainable, like Winona Rider,Gary Carter, or Debbie Gibson.There were even crush-themed car-toons by Carrie McNinch (fromThe Assassin and the Whiner) andShawn Granton (from Ten FootRule) The “adrenaline” half of thetheme suffers a bit (quantity-wise,not quality-wise), but there aregood stories about karaoke addic-tion and roller coasters. And out-side the theme altogether but defi-nitely worth the read is a storyabout a guy who’s convinced he’sdying of a yeast infection on histongue. It’s even funnier than itsounds. READ also has a bunch ofinterviews, record and bookreviews, and other standard zinefare, but the short stories and anec-dotes at the beginning are reallywhat makes this zine so cool. –SeanCarswell (READ Magazine, POBox 3437, Astoria, NY 11103)

ROCK N ROLL PURGATORY#5, #6, and #7, 8 ½ x 11,photocopied, 50-something pages eachI’d never heard of this zine until Igot three issues of it to review.Now, I feel like I’ve been missingout. The highest compliments I canpay this zine are: 1. they pulled meinto reading interviews with bandsI didn’t know, and I came out of theinterviews wanting the hear thebands, and 2. their music coveragereminded me of a bunch of albumsthat I like a lot and haven’t listenedto lately, so after reading througheach issue, I was digging backthrough my record collection andreacquainting myself with oldfavorites. Their music coveragedefinitely leans towards the street-punk and rockabilly side of music,but there’s more to find in thesepages than your basic street punkand rockabilly. There are cool arti-cles on DIY booking, pit bulls, theprison system, and GC 5 bassistDoug McKean’s take on VH-1revising music history. While read-ing through issue #7, I was sad tofind out that country music’s leg-endary outlaw Waylon Jenningsdied, but I’m glad I heard about itthrough a well-written tribute toWaylon. The real gem here, too, isthe psychology quiz in issue #5 thathelps you come up with your ownsexual perversion. I can now lookforward to a long life of hanging

out in bathroom stalls of Mexicanrestaurants, just listening. –SeanCarswell (Rock N Roll Purgatory,342 S. Walnut St., Wooster, OH44691)

VERBICIDE #5, $3.50, 8 ½ x 11,newsprint, glossy cover, 92 pgs.The quality of writing in this zinevaries a lot, but there are some def-inite high points. My favorites arethe Matthew Blackett comic (ifyou’re not familiar with his work,check out www.mattbcomic.com)and the Enron article by Soft SkullPress founder Sander Hicks. Hicksarticle did have an abrupt andunsupported ending, but the rest ofthe article was very well-researched and well-written.There’s an interview with CynthiaConnolly, who is an amazing pho-tographer. She’s also a very down-to-earth and interesting woman.The interview with her in this mag-azine is excellent. This issue alsohas interviews with Ian MacKayeand Grade, a short-story by RayBradbury (yes, the Ray Bradbury),several short stories and poems,and a bunch of record reviews.–Sean Carswell (Scissor Press, POBox 206512, New Haven, CT06520)

PUNK BROADCASTING SYSTEM VOL 1I guess if you’re into this brand of crap (non-threatening teen pop punk),you already know what to expect from Coldfront, and you’ll probablyeat this up. Me, I haven’t seen MTV in years, and I can’t even tell thedifference between a band like Blink 182, who everyone seems to hate,and some of the bands on here (All Systems Go, Ataris, Divit, MxPx,Midtown, Gob, Horace Pinker). That said, watch now as I completelyignore those seven bands, run down the rest of the disappointments, andthen get to the good stuff (there is some). Refused have a pretty nicevideo, but their pleasant ambient intro devolves into a Fugazi/Ragehybrid that shoots them down. I’m not sure who told the Vandals thewest coast needed a Dead Milkmen of our own, but they’ve picked upthat torch. I’ll admit the all-studio-lipsynch video is fun to watch, as itseems like THEY had fun doing it. The Travoltas go for Weezer musi-cally, but their vid is hard to watch both for the clichéd femme fatale

theme and for the overuse of wipes and cuts in general.I’ve never been into Sloppy Seconds, but it’s hard toimagine how they’ve been around so long doing goofyteenage trash like this. Pennywise: I don’t like BadReligion, either. Does AFI always look like they’re try-ing to be the Misfits? I don’t know, but the non-perfor-mance parts of the video are interesting black and whiteshots of the band walking around in spooky places thatlook to have been filmed on actual film; always helps.The (International) Noise Conspiracy are mod and polit-ical, but I can’t let go the fact that they censored a cuss-word. Maybe they did this video for viewing in our coun-try’s elementary schools? Snapcase’sHelmet-for-hoodies performance-only piece is as dispos-able as they come. I think this is where it starts to getgood, but my notes on The Movielife don’t seem to indi-cate whether I liked it or not , so we’ll say maybe. I havenever seen Flogging Molly, but their live performance of“Likes of You” is very charming, energetic and Guinness-powered and, thus, fine. My favorite thing on here is bythe Dwarves. I haven’t heard anything by them in a long

time, but I wasn’t prepared for the genre-jumping involved: a sort ofNine Inch Nails-ish grind trades off with a soft poppy love thing sever-al times, with one quiet rap part thrown in for good measure. Then theStrike rides a Clash city groove and wins best supporting animal with acat in there. Rounding out the good stuff is One Man Army with a mel-low power pop performance. Rounding out the whole video, however,is the Descendents. This’ll be the part that gets me tarred, I reckon, butI’ve heard very little by them that I’ve liked, ever. Their placement onthe tape makes me think this is the ONE band that most of the Coldfrontroster aspires to be, which in a way, I guess, kind of ties up the wholething for me. Never had it, never will. If you happen to come into acopy of PBS Vol 1, I recommend chopping off the first 15 or 16 tracksand the last one, winding what’s left back into the case and watching ita couple times a year. —Cuss Baxter (Coldfront)

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Declarations of Independents: Snowboarding, Skateboarding + Music: An Intersection of CulturesBy the editors of Heckler Magazine, 224 pgs.

This is a mixed bag. It’s pretty. It’d makeany milk crate coffee table classier. The con-tributing photographers obviously know howto take fine pictures and it’s super-easy tothumb through and look at pictures of TonyAlva, Jay Adams, and Duane Peters doing stuffthat would turn mere mortals into stains. In anutshell, it’s a greatest hits package of HecklerMagazine.

Starting off with their music coverage,there’s definitely a dichotomy taking place. Ifthe band is small(ish), like Sleater Kinney,Seven Seconds, or Jawbox, there’s a lot of talkand fire about what it means to be an indepen-dent band that could (or did) go to the majors.They even re-print Steve Albini’s “TheProblem with Music,” which they edit downfrom the edited version in The Baffler, whichfirst saw light in MRR. What’s weird is thatwhen they interview bonafide big-ass super-stars like Metallica and Moby the question ofindependence completely evaporates into “welove music for music, no matter how it’s made,distributed, and produced.” For instance, Iseem to remember that Metallica sued theirfans for digital tape trading (aka Napster), eventhough they admit to sitting down and record-ing Motorhead cassettes for hours on end(same activity, different technology). The resultof the musical coverage is, ultimately, wishy-

washy. All that said and done,

Ian MacKaye comes across, onceagain, as a real smart motherfuck-er.

Skating: This is the sectionI could relate to the most. I’m afirm believer in the essentialequation that skating is some-thing that almost anyone can do –if it’s just peddling down thestreet or hitting the hammers.Skating’s got a low start-up cost,it’s good exercise, and it’s fun. Ilive in a ghetto and there’s over ahundred skater kids in our fiveblock radius. If that’s not anactivity for the proletariat, I don’tknow what is. In the book, there’seven coverage of old schoolersdoing their thing decades into it –like Mark Gonzales, LanceMountain, and Steve Caballero –and relative new comers. All ofthe skaters interviewed seem torelish every second, and the slanton the soul side of the activity isheavy. I especially liked the factthat the editors took the risk andran pieces by the skaters them-selves, even ones that barelymade sense, like ChristianHosoi’s posi-core ramble-a-thonabout “focus essential vitamin”and his shocking revelation that“my mother is a woman.” It’seven funnier because Hosoi’s injail for trafficking speed intoHawaii. Again.

Snowboarding: Here’swhere my hide got downrightchapped. In the introduction,

John Baccigaluppi off-handedly states, “any-body can go snowboarding (as long as they canafford it).” Huh. Isn’t that a huge fucking hur-dle? It’s this tacit assumption – that there’smoney just laying around – that runs all theway through this book that bums me out themost. It’s most obvious in the snowboardingparts, due, in part, to the fact that snowboard-ing is so damn expensive. Here’s a quick run-down of typical costs: board/bindings: $300;clothes so you don’t die and body parts don’tfrost bite off: $100 (on the cheap); lift ticket:$50 a day; travel to and from mountain: at least$10. No getting around it, it’s a rich person’ssport unless you have a lot of contacts.

What’s bothersome isn’t the pieces on thepioneers of the sport and their travails, but theadvice that’s offered from the point of view thatmoney is a simple, almost irrelevant, obstacle.It’s even suggested that if I don’t spend moneyon all new gear every year and stop beingtrendy, I can afford to go on a two-week vaca-tion. Huh. How about if I don’t do those thingsso I can afford to eat and rent a video on occa-sion?

Perhaps I’m hung up on the semantics, butI just don’t see how this enterprise – solelyfrom the perspective of someone looking at itfrom the outside the sports – is a Declaration ofIndependents? It rings a little hollow. If they’djust titled it “Skate, Snow, Sounds,” I’d proba-bly back it much, much more. –Todd(Chronicle Books, 85 Second St., SF, CA94105; <www.chroniclebooks.com>

Everyone in SilicoJim Munroe, paperback, 241 pgs.

I liked Jim Munroe’s previous novel,Angry Young Spaceman, so much that I hadmixed feelings about receiving Everyone inSilico. Part of me was excited to see the newnovel; part of me was apprehensive, wonderingif Munroe could follow up Spaceman with anequally good novel. I got about four pages intoEveryone in Silico, and my apprehensions werelaid to rest. By the time I finished this novel, Irealized that Munroe had outdone himself.

The novel takes place in Vancouver in2036. All governments have been done awaywith. Corporations rule the world (so it’s nottoo different from the present day). Papermoney, paper books, libraries, and things likethat are all a part of the past. A Microsoft-typecompany, Self, has created a virtual worldcalled Frisco. People can check their bodies into the local Self office, and their brain isuploaded directly to Frisco, where they can goa long way towards creating their own reality.Frisco isn’t perfect by any means. Since you nolonger have a body, you no longer need to sleepor eat. This makes for a longer work day. Andeveryone in Frisco seems to be working harderin some aspects of their lives and getting alongmuch easier in other aspects. The majority ofthe novel, however, takes place outside ofFrisco. It centers around mostly-young radicalsand different groups who have formed a resis-tance to Self and other dominant corporations.The novel skips around from character to char-acter. Gradually, each one begins to interactwith the others, and the reader can see howthey’re all interconnected. Munroe also does afantastic job of setting up a seamless futureworld: a world plausible enough to allow youto become completely lost in it.

Beyond the plot and politics, though, whatmakes Everyone in Silico a really enjoyablenovel is the characters. Since each chapter fol-lows one specific character, you tend to losecertain other characters for a couple of chap-ters. This makes you really want to keep turn-ing the pages so you can get back to hangingout with, say Nicky, the artist who uses genet-ics as her canvas and pulls a short con to sup-port herself; or Eileen, the aging revolutionarywho is taking on Self by herself; or even Doug,a corporate coolhunter who’s so deep in debtthat he becomes blind to the world around him,yet still has enough irreverence to make himlikable. It’s strange for me to think that anessentially allegorical sci-fi novel could be sostrongly character-driven, but Munroe reallypulls it off.

And this gets me to the ending. I want tobe very careful when talking about it. I don’twant to give anything away, here, and I don’tthink I will. As I read the last couple of pagesof the book, I kept thinking, there’s no way he’sgonna pull this all together. There’s just notenough room for Munroe to tie up all the looseends. I read through to the last sentence andthought, damn it, he didn’t tie it all together.What about this and what about that? Then, Isat in my recliner for about twenty or thirtyminutes flipping back through the last chapters,re-reading bits and pieces. As I re-read pas-sages with the ending already in mind, every-thing started to make sense to me. I realizedthat everything was tied up. It all did come102

together in the end. It’s just that the ending isn’treadily obvious. Wow, I thought. That’simpressive. Munroe wrote a book that I don’tnecessarily have to read a second time, but I’lldefinitely keep a copy of this in my bookshelfand read it again. –Sean Carswell (No MediaKings, 10 Trellanock Ave., Toronto, OntarioM1C 5B5 <www.nomediakings.org>)

Hank Williams: Snapshots from the Lost HighwayColin Escott and Kira Florita, 208 pgs.

This visually impressive coffee-table bookprovides an up-close and personal glimpse intothe anguished, short life of Hank Williams (aman whose music purportedly caused SidVicious to openly weep in public!). Hank was atrue American original with an unquenchablethirst for booze, women, and wild times. Yet hewas a spiritually enlightened musical geniuswho masterfully composed a soul-stirring, toe-tapping array of inspirationally infectioussongs that perfectly blended the raw burgeon-ing elements of country’n’western, blues, hill-billy, and traditional folk. His lyrics were bru-tally honest, heartfelt, and painfully poetic,candidly exposing a raging inner torment withbeautifully blunt poignancy that the commonman can still relate to this very day. His voiceached with emotion, passion, and undeniablesadness, richly textured in a down-homehonky-tonkin’ moan of country twang, huckle-berry howl, and lonesome backwoods yodel.This barnstormer of a book colorfully capturesHank’s brief, but profoundly productive, twen-ty-nine years here on earth. Included through-out the historically informative text are reveal-ing personal letters, unpublished hand-writtenlyrics, business-related documents, perfor-mance flyers, and a titillating abundance ofnever-before-seen photos from the Williamsfamily’s very own private archives. Snapshotsfrom the Lost Highway is an exceptionally cap-tivating page-perusing experience from cover-to-cover and back again. So “move it on over”to your local bookstore now, and put forth thebucks for this here outstanding hardback trea-sure-trove. -Roger Moser, Jr. (Da Capo Press;<www.dacapopress.com>)

Identity Parade: Photos by Kristofer Pasaden, 165 pgs.What a nice looking book. Not since FuckedUp and Photocopied have I touched a DIYbook that had a hard cover, woven spine, andheavy paper. It’s a collection of photos taken bya single photographer, primarily in Scandinaviabetween 1995 and 2001. As when you get intothe realm of art and photography, we all havedifferent tastes. I’m a sucker for shots with a lotof detail and not a lot of contrast so you can seea bunch of tiny things and still be blown awayby the shot itself. On many occasions, Kristoferexcels in this capacity, and many more. Thereare some truly amazing shots of Good CleanFun, Intensity, The Hives, Randy, and Breach.My rule of thumb for a band shot is simple: itmakes you want to be at the show. You can’ttake the fact away that Kristofer’s got the eyeand timing for a great live photographer with akeen sense of light and mood. However, thereare a couple of things that prohibit me fromoutright recommending this book. First off,since it’s a photo book and he’s selecting the

pictures to run, what sense does it make tochosing pictures he openly admits are bad, suchas the singer of Gameface eating a microphoneor the shot of the backs of heads in an audienceat a Blindfold show? Some photo editingwould have helped a bunch. Text-wise, there’sa good story about Victory Records ripping offhis negatives. Although I will preface this bysaying I know no Swedish beyond the instruc-tions on the side of a penis pump box, the bookis fraught with poor English translations,messed-up spellings and run-on sentences. If itwas all poorly written in Swedish, I wouldn’thave noticed, but it isn’t. It’s pretty difficult toread, which is a bummer. It definitely detractsfrom the photos a bit, and knocks the bookdown a peg or two down below other photobooks that have stood the test of time and con-tinue to kick ass, like Banned in DC andHardcore California. –Todd (This wasreleased by a bunch of labels. Here are three.Havoc: PO Box 8585, Minneapolis, MN55408, <www.havocrex.com>; Armed WithAnger, PO Box 487, Bradford, BD2 4YU, UK,<www.awarerecords.com>; Busted Heads,Box 275, 901 06 Umea, Sweden, <www.ds13.com>)

Literotica: The Very Best of Literotica.comEdited by Lori Selke, paperback, 236 pages

As the title implies, this book is a collec-tion of stories first published on the Web. Thetitle might also imply that these stories are lit-erate, erotic, and good, but to assume thatwould be wrong. For the most part, these sto-ries suck. Many are as painful to read as theamalgam “Literotica” is to pronounce. (Whatwere the editors thinking? Am I the only forwhom this word conjures up visions of a catbox?)

The stories “Vast,” “A Fireman’s Prayer,”and “Still Life with Teeth” were peopled withobsessive, desperate, unhappy charactersengaging in desperate, unhappy, unfulfillingsex. Each in its own way brought to mind typi-cal French art house fare – movies whichalways seem to be about unhappy, obsessivecouples who argue in the kitchen and fuck a lotthen decide to kill each other. One story abouta middle-aged woman who becomes orgasmicthrough the joys of anal sex was, I think,attempting to show the light hearted and funnyside of sex, or maybe it was just trying to befunny. In any case, it turned out to be just plainjuvenile. But maybe that’s to be expected, as itwas written by a person with the pen nameDirty Old Man.

About half the stories suffered fromappallingly pretentious writing (little zingerslike “I have painted my need, and controlleddestruction is therapeutic”) while others suffo-cated under the weight of an author so enam-oured of her own writing the story got lost inthe elaborate, “literate” wordplay of it all.(Take, for example, this gem: “So I lookedupon you with wonderment, but you were lostin contemplation of the two colors of my areo-lae, one so weak, one now so large and bold…I began to feel gossepimples on the smoothnessof my strange skin.”)

Despite my previously mentioned objec-tion, Dixon Carter Lee’s “A Fireman’s Prayer”was really quite good, and considerably soft-ened my thoughts toward the whole tiresome

enterprise that is Literotica. His story was wellwritten and – more to the point – hot hot hot.(Of course, his real genius might lie in his abil-ity to choose a universal sex object as a protag-onist. You can’t really go wrong with a firemanas a lead character.) His other selection, anexcerpt from Jazzy Girl, was just about as sexyand was equally well written. It contained somereally skillful dialogue in which two peoplewho had just met and are just about to have sexactually sound believable. But this story, likean excerpt from Hostile Takeover, sufferedfrom an odd editing choice. The stories juststopped, suddenly and unexpectedly, and leftme thinking “surely there was a more naturalpoint at which to close this story.”?

I was however thrilled to realize thatAnessa Ramsey’s story “The Games We Play”was a goddamned, certifiable historicalromance piece. It seemed like a fairly standardpiece of genre writing and I was surprised theeditor thought it edgy enough to include in thisarty little anthology, but whatever, I thought,I’ll take it. Sadly, “The Games We Play” turnedout to be a classic example of the crapRomance fans put up with in hopes of findingthat one fabulous story that makes their toescurl. It’s the longest story in the collection andit contains just about every element that givesRomance its tawdry and undignified reputa-tion. There is the Too Stupid To Live heroine,the prose so purple you cringe, the “I Hate YouLets Fuck” mode of foreplay, and the BigMisunderstanding that could be resolved with asimple, honest conversation but instead causestrauma and melodrama for pages and pages andyet more unnecessary pages. Aside from theabove Universally Bad elements, there werethe annoying particulars, like how the maincharacters spoke only in paragraphs – some-times a page long, and how plot progressionwas so incoherent from scene to scene I fre-quently had no idea what was going on, or why.I’m sure, given time, Ramsey can learn to crafta better story. The real sin here belongs not toher but to Lori Selke, the editor, for her lousydecision to include the story in this collection.People who have never read Romance beforewill read it and just assume it’s all like this.

I guess the same could be said about thisanthology as a whole. There’s a lot of kick-asserotica out there – it’s well-written AND itturns you on, so don’t let Litter, um, Literoticafool you into thinking otherwise. -Sara Isett(Black Books, PO Box 311555, SF, CA, 94131)

Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in AmericaBarbara Ehrenreich, hardcover, 221 pages

Shortly after the Welfare Reform Act wentinto effect, Barbara Ehrenreich got the brightidea to take a series of low paid, “unskilled”jobs, see if she could actually make a living,and write about the results. The push back thenwas all about “welfare to work” but she won-dered what sort of work was available and wasit possible to prosper? So she worked as a foodserver in Key West, Florida, a housecleaner inPortland, Maine, and as a Wal-Mart worker inMinneapolis, Minnesota. What her book shows– and is probably not surprising to anyone whois a low wage worker themselves, or at the veryleast has a social conscience – is 103

that the results of a life spent on $6 to $7 anhour sucks ass. Her book however, does notsuck ass. It’s laugh out loud funny, sometimesshocking, frequently maddening, and some-thing of a page-turner; I read it in about twodays because I couldn’t put it down. She writesabout the co-workers she comes to know andrespect, (or not, due to the apparent useless-ness of supervisors and assistant managers),the inconvenience and privacy invasion ofincessant drug testing, and the plain difficultyof finding a decent place to live. The descrip-tion of the employee orientation session allpotential Wal-Marters must sit through –which is essentially a video presentationdevoted to the evils of labor unions – is mindblowing because it makes clear just how rawand effective Wal-Mart’s corporate propagan-da is. The chapter about working for a housecleaning service takes an unexpected look atclass relations and documents the one timewhen Ehrenreich fails to keep her well-educat-ed, lefty mouth shut and blasts her boss forblithely assuming that a worker will “workthrough” her sprained ankle. Ehrenreich has aflare for stating the obvious but overlookedfacts about minimum wage workers: like howno job, no matter how low-wage, is trulyunskilled, or how the working (even some-times homeless) poor were (and still are) vir-tually invisible in the “millionaire next door”economic environment of the late ‘90s. Myone complaint about the book is she offers noreal solutions – not an uncommon thing inbooks by liberal academic types – but wrapsup with a somewhat tepid “when the poor rise

up and refuse to work for $7 dollars an hourthere will be some real fireworks and we’ll allbe better off.” On the other hand, Ehrenreich isa journalist and a social critic, not an activist,so maybe that’s not her role. -Sara Isett(Metropolitan Books, Henry Holt & Company,115 West 18th Street, NY, NY 10011)

Stupid White Men, by Michael Moore

Rock and fucking roll! I was SO excitedfor the new Michael Moore book to come outand finally it’s here! Hooray! Yippee! Yippie!God bless America, USA!

Being your typical punk rocker, I’m pret-ty “politically-involved” or whatever yawanna call it, and I’ve spent more than my fairshare of time holding up signs that read, “StopKilling Palestinians” or “US out ofColombia,” and handing out leftist pamphletsto people who could care less. (See: reasons togive up all hope and commit suicide). So, thereason why I love Michael Moore so much isthat he realizes that all of that stuff, while nec-essary and good and all of that, could be muchmore fun and funny and punk rock! So insteadof just using the traditional tactics, Moore runsa plant for a Congressional seat, convincesAlan Keyes to jump into a mosh pit, and bringsan all-gay male chorus to Jesse Helm’s frontdoor! I love this man!

The other day, I saw Moore on the BillO’Reilly show (ack!) and Mr. Bill was sayingsomething like, “So, do you consider yourselfa leftist?” And Moore delivered the responsethat best sums up my political beliefs, in a nut-

shell. (Not an exact quote.) “I think I am forthe things that most Americans are for. Decenthealth care, enough money to have a house anddecent food, a stable job…” Moore, likeHoward Zinn, presents the issues so clearly todemonstrate what I firmly believe (fuck post-modernism!): We are right, and they arewrong. There are some issues so basic, thatthere can only be one moral answer. So, askingthe question “which side are you on?” anddemanding an answer from corporations,politicians, and other neer-do-wells is a greattactic! What kind of asshole is going to say,point blank, “It’s okay that people die of treat-able diseases and can’t afford food whileEnron somehow manages to pay no taxes”?

In Stupid White Men, you get to readMoore’s critiques of the presidential election,the educational system, corporations, and allof that. There’s a lot of great information inthis book, in addition to hilarious jokes andside-bars like, “How to Survive Your BedBeing Set on Fire.” And while this book can’tpossibly equal the experience of seeing Moorein person, it’s still such a good read. And apparently I’m not alone in liking thisbook. It’s on practically every best-seller list inthe country. Harper Collins, who originallyweren’t even going to let the book be pub-lished because of its anti-Bush stuff, must be ahappy publishing company, indeed. So, buythis book. Just PLEASE don’t buy it fromunion-busting Amazon! The end! -Maddy(Harper Collins)