FAMILY CURSE - Twilight Language

1-2-Hex on you. Cross your fingers, throw salt, knock wood, say a little prayer, run like hell. You cannot escape the Curse. You cannot escape your blood. Family Curse.

Hypnotic art-punk. Psychedelic without being "psych." Throbbing rhythms. Can a melody be "brutal"? Doom Pop at its finest. Songs about decay, the Old World, war, disease, love and murder. Family Curse leave the beachheads in the sun, content to bask in their own mundane existence. Family Curse believes in the power of the song, that there is still meaning and worth left in metaphor, melody, and message. Family Curse places their trust in the intrinsic mystery of the unseen world. In the shadows, that is where the quest for answers must begin.

Twilight Language concerns itself with the breakdown of modern communication via a glimpse at a world that on the surface seems far removed from our own, part of a distant past, but in fact was merely only a century ago. Or is it now? Time bends back upon itself.

The motorik punk of "No Return" opens the album by heading towards the white light. Is it a train? Or the end as beginning? "Julia Armant" is revived from the debut single, here treated with hand-claps and even more of a resonating ache. "Truth Will Out" is avant-hardcore at its finest; two minutes of frantic flail, singer Erick Bradshaw H excoriating his demons and guitars radiating all manner of face-melting noises. "Arcane Radio" is a dance hit from an alternate past, one filled with imagination and adventure. It ends on a bitter note however, innocence lost and thrown in the trash. "Zig Zag/Dead Drop" closes the side with a trance-inducing tale of espionage, betrayal and murder. The music moves as if under a heavy fog of confusion and dread. The spaghetti western touches conclude a dramatic tale.
 


Side Two comes at you with a cynical sneer and a knife hidden behind its back; "NY NY NY" is a sarcastic stab at Family Curse's hometown, which happens to be one of the biggest, greatest and most frustrating cities in the entire world. We only hurt you cuz we love you, baby. This song refers back to late '70s New York punk, obsessed and repulsed by the city of its birth. The dirty streets of Manhattan replaced by the boring streets of Brooklyn. "Memory Sickness" recalls forgotten masters of socially-aware post-hardcore like Gray Matter and The Proletariat. It's noisy, jagged, and oppressive, but does not forsake a haunting melody and memorable chorus. "Trench Warfare" is a nasty tune; pounding, angular rhythms, courtesy of drummer Chris Kulcsar and bassist Joe Santa Ana Maria, are serrated by Ken Edge's Albini-worthy guitar-slash while Bradshaw's vein-bursting vocals are trapped in the muck and guts of the trenches of WWI. No one gets out alive. "Ex Flame Expressions" is unabashedly about the fairer sex, that is to say, the other sex; the one you are not. Bitterness can be its own power, might as well own it. Final track "Scorched Earth Policy" is a Cormac McCarthy-inspired anthem for all of the bandits, marauders and roving killers that made this country "great." America was born in blood and turmoil, and not much has changed. The difference is, now we are aware of traumatic events quicker and in more detail than at any point in our history. Twilight language.

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Sounds: http://familycurse.bandcamp.com/

Sights: video for “Zig Zag/Dead Drop” - http://vimeo.com/63632087

             video for “Julia Armant” -  http://vimeo.com/25529623

Articles:

http://www.vol1brooklyn.com/2013/03/21/band-booking-deciphering-twilight-language-with-family-curse/

http://noisey.vice.com/fr/blog/adult-problems-dont-fear-the-reaper-with-family-curses-new-album-twilight-language

http://blogs.villagevoice.com/music/2012/08/family_curse_interview.php

Reviews:

YellowGreenRed: “driving, thoughtful punk rock - Naked Raygun with a Wire fascination - his is what punk rock sounds like when kids grow old without growing out of touch”

Roctober: “Family Curse offers some profanely, nasty punk”

Suburban Voice: “hard-edged post-punk rock”

Sorry State: “like they could have come right from This Nation's Saving Grace-era Fall - relentlessly catchy”

Terminal Boredom: “In the best way, this doesn’t sound like it’s from Brooklyn. To lean on the crutch of trite comparisons, imagine Rikk Agnew’s mom replaced his steady diet of bacon grease and donuts or whatever for Monorchid records”

The Wire “Size Matters” Byron Coley: “choppy and loud in the manner of 100 Flowers or Mission of Burma”

Maximumrocknroll:  “Thick, meaty post-punk with snaking basslines, almost funk-punk guitars, and barked vocals. Shards of Yummy Fur or The Birthday Party make their way thought the high-volume attack.”

Further info and social media:

http://www.family-curse.com/

http://www.facebook.com/family.curse

TWO ONE ZERO AND DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS

The future is now, now is the future, it’s 2011 it’s 1968 it’s 1929 it’s 1991 it’s 1847 and it’s December 21 2012 forever and never. Welcome to the future, it looks a hell of a lot like the past. As the great punk-poet Steve Miller once intoned, “Time keeps on slippin’ slippin’ slippin’…….” and we have all slid past home plate straight into the gaping maw of an uncertain future; even the great foundations of power being shaken, if ever so slightly, but all earthquakes must begin with the tiniest of cracks, an infinitesimal hairline preceding the thunderous BOOM! of sudden, violent change. And then there’s the United States. Crying in our beer like someone just ran over the dog, but we know it’s our damn fault, so what are we gonna do to reverse it? I don’t know about you, chief, but I’m gonna kick off my boots, pop a squat on this ol’ rockin’ chair, maybe slowly swirl some whiskey around a fine-cut glass, feigning civility; and most certainly spark up a jazz cigarette, whilst whiling away the hours/days/months/years; no company but an armful of (mostly) rock n’ roll records. Now that sounds just fine, you say. Don’t worry, all of these records sound great with your head beneath the sand………


Unlike years past, it seems the full-length came correct these past twelve months. Besides the punk-as-fuck all-killer-no-filler Women In Prison EP (some kinda Consumers/Saints buzzbomb on Hozac), not a whole lot of contemporary singles blew my head off (def. really dug the Circle Pit 45 on Sweet Rot; like a lost Royal Trux Sub Pop Singles Club entry from ’92, and no I don’t feel “bad” for mentioning the Trux re: Circle Pit again; if the shoe fucking fits, but I digress…..), but there were a slew of good-to-great LPs, and that suits me just fine, cuz I’m lazy.

 It wouldn’t be an erickelric/EEK/fuckface bit o’ “writing” if my favorite band of the last, what, eight?, years wasn’t mentioned. But once again, they’ve earned themselves all the accolades I could drench them with and more. Maintaining a fierce and freaky live show (w/ either B. “Buddy Rich” Hafer or T(immy’s) O(rganism) banger, Colin Simon on traps), Human Eye dropped what most consider their finest LP yet (I still pull for the debut; o nostalgia), They Came From the Sky, on Sacred Bones no less, rubbing shoulders with Pitchforkian champions. Really hope some teenage Ty Segall fans bought this album on their short tour together and went home and their mothers had to clean the brains off their bedroom wall the next day, tsk-tsk-ing away, son now a full-fledged mutant rock n’ roll wastoid. Sorry Ma, forgot to clean up the brain-trash…..

  Holy crap, raise your hand if you got sick of hearing about goddamn Iceage every waking hour of every fucking day! Whoa, I think we just blotted out the sun. But hell if there ain’t something intriguing about the Danish foursome, too young to drink in this country, but somehow sounding old and resigned on their pretty f-in’ (why the fuck do people say that) great debut, New Brigade [Escho/Dais/What’s Your Rupture?]. Yeah, three different labels released this sucker, that’s how much people like it. The live show was a tad underwhelming, but the record rips, like Sort Sol tearing through a catalog of only the best of ‘90s artcore. Even an aging codger like me can feel the youthful energy glowing off this album. The songs stick, and that’s important.


 Speaking of youth, punk, and good songs, if you haven’t been paying attention to a small crew of Texan punk rockers, you’re missing out on some of the best PR going these days. I coined this corny phrase (who me?) in my head: “Get your dent on,” for all the sick shit coming out of that town lately. My two favorites are the reformed Wax Museums, whose 2nd LP, Eye Times [Trouble in Mind] snuck up on me like a creeper in an alley that turns out to be a fine young lady with a sinister smile. Accordingly, my favorite songs on here, “Breakfast for Dinner, “Bruiser,” “Chase Your Shadow,” have lust on the brain, leveled out with a hint of violence. The straight-up Devo rip in “Nothing to Do (With the 60s)” gives me a warm fuzzy every time, and what more do you want from a short n’ sweet punk rock record? If that doesn’t do it for you, I’m sure you could find something to like on Video’s Leather, Leather LP. Featuring most of the dudes in Wax Museums/Wrists/Bad Sports/Wiccans etc, Video delivers a knockout punch with their debut. Possibly the first band I would unequivocally state are “Final Solutions-influenced,” Video bring that gnarly, catchy, vaguely sci-fi, totally KBD-damaged punk rock that has been one of the defining sounds of the last 10 years of underground rock (at least to those with a modicum of taste, I can’t speak for the Sufjan Stevens fans out there). They do it as well as anyone else, and certainly better than anyone going these days (minus HE o’ course). I really love the huge fuzzy bass that slices thru this record like a jeep-mounted machine gun, mowing down anything in its path. This band rules; come up North and rock some faces off, lads.


Who do you think would win in a sonic fight: Iceage or TV Ghost [In The Red]? My money would be on the Ghost, cuz even though they are still young guns, they’re actually vets of our murky underground punk planet by this point. Seems like whatever “hype” they had died down and now they are just doin’ their thang, not givin’ a fuck ‘bout nothin’ else. And it shows. Their In The Red debut (and 2nd alb proper) Mass Dream brings in a new rhythm section (keyboardist Brahne jumps to drums) and further refines their shadowy sound. Bits of Pere Ubu, Cramps, Birthday Party, Echo & The Bunnymen, Circle X and Bauhaus can be heard in their dark take on post-punk. There are some really fantastic melodies lurking under the weirdness, and the excellent recording by Greg Ashley frames everything perfectly. Strange to say, but I think these fellas are underrated now.


Speaking of underrated, my perennial favorites The Ex still don’t get the massive amounts of love they deserve, but that’s alright, the true believers know what’s up. I squeezed in with about a hundred of like-minded folks last spring in a sports bar in Park Slope, Brooklyn to witness yet another mind-fuckingly great show by these people, old enough to be your Mom n’ Dad, hell some of you your grandparents, and they display no fatigue, no jadedness, and without a doubt, no volume or intensity drop. They lost long-time mouthpiece G.W. Sok, but gained another ace guitarist in singer Arnold de Boer. His singing style isn’t so different from Sok’s, and neither are his insightful and sarcastic lyrics. The way the trio of guitarists played off of the polyrhythms so effortlessly brought by drummer Kat was truly awe-inspiring. Still one of the greatest live bands I have ever seen, and their self-released LP, Catch My Shoe [Ex], is another fantastic album filled with their unique and cutting art-punk. Hey Sonic Youth, break-up or step up your game.


 Statement. Liquor Store made some kind of statement with their double-LP opus, Yeah Buddy [Almost Ready]. Yeah, it’s their debut. After only one 7”. The balls on these kids, like two boulders careening down a mountain. That doesn’t make much sense, and this record doesn’t either………til you chug-a-lug a case of Bud Light, smoke a QP thru an apple, and maybe punch yourself in the face half-a-dozen times. It’s seriously like a Use Your Illusion for all the fucked-up little greaser punk shit-bags with trash ‘staches and speech impediments roaming your shitty little town. It’s gonna take longer than 12 months to get your noodle around this puppy. Hope you have a good weed connect.


Pygmy Shrews. This band teetered on the brink last year, victim to drummer turmoil. But they persevered, recruited a new skinsman, and, as anyone who has seen live them recently can attest, are rocking harder than ever. Before he moved on, Jeremy Villalobos lent his heavy-hitting to the Shrews’ second LP, the charmingly-titled You People Can All Go Straight to Hell [Jack Shack]. Why mince words when you can level a crowd with vicious hardcore grunge like only the Shrews can? Serious power moves on this platter, everything recorded loud and clear by guitarist Ben Greenberg. Thick as a milkshake and just as smooth. Side A bludgeons you with short bangers that feature actual (gasp!) melodies amidst the riffs, and the dual vocals by Greenberg and bassist Tia Vincent-Clark provide an almost X-ish harmony, a rarity in music this heavy. These are people who grew up with the Nirvana in their DNA, so they don’t forsake the art of songwriting, or the value in a catchy chord progression. Greenberg is a virtuoso on guitar, but he doesn’t flaunt it; well, that is until you flip the record over and get face-pummeled by the title cut, twelve straight minutes of bad-ass shredding (by everyone, natch) that is what Black Flag was probably trying to accomplish with The Process of Weeding Out. Yeah, I “went there.” Kill yr idols, etc.


And now time to address the elephant in the room: Reissues. If you’re anything like me (ie. have superb taste and fairly respectable hygienic habits/drug problems), lately you have been spending the majority of your hard-earned (or ill-gained, I ain’t judgin’) dollar on this new cottage industry of legit, “exact repro” reissues. Now, buying bunches of reissues ain’t new per se; it’s always been a significant contributer to making us geeks broke, and the anticipation and will-they-or-won’t-they? expectations take up quite a bit of our external and internal record convos. It’s a talking sickness. But we enjoy it. Often you wait years and years before some damn thing, usually ruined via remastering/mixing, track order fucking-around-with, new atrocious cover art, expensive as all hell etc, materializes. Sure, the internet kinda made all that dry-mouth worrying go away; hey you can HEAR ANYTHING ANYTIME YOU WANT, MR. BROADBAND, but the true freaks n’ geeks still want that physical product, if only to accrue like a pharaoh ready for the tomb. They’re just fucking around, right? We can take it with us, right? So the “new” thing is to make them shits highly desirable via exact repro(ductions). Almost Ready Records honcho (and gin-soaked terror) Harry Howes took it to the next level last year with his KBD-klassik-reissuing label par excellance, Last Laugh. Can’t afford The Eat’s “Communist Radio?” No prob. Eight or so bucks will get you a perfect version of the original packaging, labels, and the music ain’t no slouch either. It’s a broke-ass normal human being’s dream come true. It’s a punk rock DJ’s wet dream cumming all over his own face. No need to lug all those dodgy-sounding Killed By Death comps with you (although they’re still good for smoke/piss/bump breaks); you can rock the 45s like a true gentleman. Howes stepped up his game even more this year, reissuing gems by the likes of Hammer Damage (“Laugh” at my Akron pride at your own peril!), Shitdogs, The Embarrassment, Puncture, Skunks, Ed Nasty & more. He also started another label called Mighty Mouth with intent to reissue obscure weirdness by artists like ‘70s glam-tran disco rock n’ roll queen Laurice (ie. Grudge) and he also dropped a little-known garage slow-burner called “Til the Stroke of Dawn” by The Psychopaths. On top of all that, he issued the never-happened debut LP by LL flagship band, The Normals. Which brings me to my next subject, but first I want to give a meaningful nod to a few other lovingly-executed (and legit) exact repros; namely Family Vineyard’s Dow Jones & The Industrials debut 7” (a complete discography is to follow in 2012) and Rerun Records’ Bob “That Thing You Do”/”Thomas Edison” 45. Both are classics of early US jerk-wave post-punkitude and the reissues are beauties of what should be textbook “reissuing.” A pleasure to hold and hear in the here and now. “Now on sale at” Permanent Records’ faithful reissue of the long out-of-print classic Chicago punk compilation, Busted at Oz, deserves a special mention, as it is a real piece of work, as in a piece of art. Tip-on jackets from OG art, printed inner sleeve, crisp sound, not to mention completely awesome and varied punk and hardcore by scene stalwarts Naked Raygun, Effigies, DA, Strike Under, and more. Bravo and thank you, the love is palpable.


As is the hate on Superior Viaduct’s reish of early ‘80s whatthefuckcore, Black Humor’s audio blister of an album, Love God, Love One Another. Gotta admit that I don’t own this. Why? Oh, cuz I got an original. (I don’t get to say that much, deal with it). You should get this at any cost; may be the best thing that came out this year. The future looks bright for Superior Viaduct. Don’t be fooled by its Clevo-centric title cuz this upstart imprint is intent on reissuing lost classics of early SF wave like Noh Mercy (!), Factrix, Tuxedomoon and more. Can’t hardly wait. Whew.


Also wanna mention 540 Records continuing an entirely commendable and well-done re-unearthing of late ‘70s Oz punk label Savage; two more classic singles by Just Urbain and Young Identities to throw on the pile. And we’ll also give a quick mention of the Really Red “Crowd Control”/”Corporate Settings” 45. Some kind soul booted it, and, as someone who considers them one of the United States’ greatest hardcore punk bands ever……well, gosh, shucks, thanks.

 But then there’s this whole other off-shoot of the repro business that, in a way, is the most exciting of all. The NEVER-ISSUED. Old stuff made new again. Howes also weighed in with a collector-scum holy grail of sorts, early Cheater Slicks sessions with Alpo from the Real Kids on bass. Murder! [Our Food is Chaos; Almost Ready] Acute always does such a fantastic job with reissues, and now they’ve broken their vinyl cherry (finally! give us yr older shitz on wax too pleez!) with The Disco Zombies LP which features their 3 singles along with a bevy of unreleased tracks (and even more stuff via download that comes w/ the record). Maybe you know the infectious title cut Drums Over London, but are you familiar with the later, sublime track “Mary Millington?” If not, get crackin’. S-S Records is no stranger to digging up the finest in unheard spizz, and they really hit one outta the park with their Sperm Wails single. While 80s UK snarl-experts, Sperm Wails, had a few (great) records during their existence, S-S managed to procure YouTube sensation “Lady Chatterley” for its first appearance on a real playable vinyl record. Happy happy joy joy kill kill die. Jack Ruby. The name conjures one of the defining images of 20th century America; a stocky fellow in a fedora shoving a revolver into the gut of ultimate patsy Lee Harvey Oswald. But if you’ve ever been even slightly obsessed with New York City’s No Wave scene then you know of them as an early mythical iteration of the anti-everything post-Stooge/VU proto-punk underground, particularly as relates to one George Scott, intense bassist of both the Contortions and 8-Eyed Spy and tragic heroin OD. Some recordings surfaced this year via his old roommate and they are a revelation. We’re talkin’ prime-time proto-punk (’74-’77) rock noise up there with all-time greats like Debris’, MX-80, and all those bands from the crucible of post-industrial rock, Cleveland Ohio. An enterprising French label, Saturday Records, took it upon themselves to make sure some of these amazing tracks, only existing as a download on a blog at that point, made it to vinyl. And thus we have Jack Ruby’s debut single “Hit & Run”/”Bad Teeth.” Prefiguring all kinds of weirdos like Crime, Chrome, and MARS, this stuff is potent. A CD featuring more material was issued by no wave historian Weasel Walter’s ugEXPLODE label came out simultaneously. Word is that Feeding Tube Records will be committing that document to wax. More stuff like this and I might never buy a new record again.


Many of the following releases I enjoyed just as much, if not more, than some of the stuff I wrote about above: Rank/Xerox – s/t (Make a Mess); Cheveu 1000 (Born Bad); Obnox I’m Bleeding Now (Smog Veil); K Holes s/t (Hozac), Feeling of Love Dissolve Me (Kill Shaman); Degreaser Bottom Feeder (Negative Guest List); Sightings Future Accidents (Our Mouth); GG King Esoteric Lore (Scavenger of Death/Rob’s House); UV Race Homo (In The Red); Cakekitchen Kangaroos in My Top Paddock (Violet Times); Frustrations Negative Reflections (X!); Kitchen’s Floor Looking Forward to Nothing (Negative Guest List); Puffy Areolas “Gentlemen’s Grip” EP (Hozac); Pop. 1280 “Thirteen Steps”/”Dead Hand” (Blind Prophet); Crazy Spirit “I’m Dead” EP (Mata La Musica Discos); Timmy’s Organism “Scum Revolution”/”When The Bottles Break” (Hozac); Pink Reason Desperate Living EP (Almost Ready); Pampers “Eruptions” 7” (Jack Shack); Scarcity of Tanks 'Sensational Grade'; Thee Ohsees/Total Control split 12” (Castle Face); Hatefuck “Rock n’ Roll Letdown” EP (Negative Guest List)


Live shows? Sightings brings it every time; Harvey Milk basically blew my mind apart and put it back together, heavy as fuck and everything perfectly placed in the mix, really impressive; Guinea Worms are always a good time; Foster Care is probably my favorite punk band to watch/fall down with these days (look for their LP on Jack Shack sometime this year); Les Sexareenos reunion was a party and reminded me of what rock n’ roll is supposed to be; there used to be tons of bands like that (although not as good usually), where the hell are they these days? Step out of your fuckin’ bedrooms and slay the goddamn dragon!

HEAVY ADDENDUMDUMS: new - True Sons of Thunder LP (Jeth-Row) / The Unholy Two 'SSkum of the Earth' (CDR/NGL), old - Fungus Brains 'Ron Pisto's Real World' (Load) / Coitus Int. 'Dead Excitement' EP (Bunkerpop) / Jerusalem s/t (Lion/Rockadrome) / Dog Faced Hermans 'Those Deep Buds' (Alternative Tentacles) new/old - Kebab 12" (Soft Spot) / FM-BX Society Tape comp (S-S)


[originally appeared on www.terminal-boredom.com]

A HANDFUL OF DUST (ie. some musical reviews)

WOMEN IN PRISON "Strange Waves" 7" EP

Hey all of you heavy-hitting punk collectors out there, I got some news for that ass: Great punk records are still being made! I know, crazy, right? Here (along with that Lognhal… platter) is one of the best of recent memory. Straight-up raging scuzz-punk from Austin TX. This here 45 contains three of the world-beaters from their six-song demo that came out last year. I thought “Suicidal Exit” was the hit, but it’s not to be found here. Doesn’t matter cuz these guys got songs for days. Yeah, they actually remembered to write some! I, for one, appreciate that kind of forethought. This is what this record sounds like: Your cool friends just spontaneously formed a band, they’re bursting with a couple ideas, they get a case of beer, they go down to the basement (I know it’s Austin but bear with me), they turn on the old dust-covered PA, the one from the Seventies, the one with the sick reverb that’s got presence and depth unlike these goddamn tinny pedals of today; they crank the guitars up to a nice Saints-like roar, and as the drummer deals with the fact that the drum kit is a piece of shit, a reverse pride starts forming as a matter of fact. “I’m gonna make this pile of junk sound good,” he thinks. They start playing. You are three floors up, reading a book about autoerotic asphyxiation, slowly squeezing a lemon, when you realize that the distant thunder you feel shaking the house is actually the dudes downstairs and they are fucking killing it. “Strange Waves” makes you wanna freak out, fuck anything that moves, then snort it up your nose, hell shove it up your fucking ass. A lightning bolt hits you: “My dumb-ass friends are the best punk band in the city, the state, maybe even the whole country….?!”(EEK) (HozAc Records // www.hozacrecords.com)

SPERM WAILS “Lady Chatterley” b/w “Mr Wonderful” 7”

Anyone who is hip to the Sperm Wails knows that it’s a goddamn tragedy that they didn’t release more material. I don’t care if they toured with My Bloody Valentine, I don’t care if they personally rolled Kevin Shields’ spliffs every night, I don’t care if they wore their mums’ knickers when she went to church on Sunday mornings, I don’t care if they diddled dogs’ assholes with their tongues, I JUST WISH THEY HAD PUT OUR MORE SHIT. A 12”, a 7”, a flexi (hey it was the ‘80s), that’s it! Argh!! They had a modest legacy of being a relatively forgotten great band that time forgot, until five years ago, when a video from the Shelter Video Compilation (whatever the hell that is) was posted on YouTube. The video was for a song called “Lady Chatterley,” that didn’t appear on any of their records, and was perhaps their most vicious song (and this is a vicious band). The video seemed to hint at dark and terrible things, while the music sounded like Pussy Galore stripped of everything but the hate and yeah fuck the blues, we got plenty of depression and spite to draw from. A small-scale web sensation for fucked-up losers clued into such things. Enter S-S Records, beloved label of those same FUL, and now this song finally feels the kiss of wax. “Mr Wonderful” is a throwaway, a dalliance, but who cares when you’ve got that song on a little 45 rpm single. What is “Lady Chatterley” like? As scissorkicks comments on the youtube: “This song makes me want to smash everything ever.”  [S-S]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjZ-rOWiQHM&feature=related

LOGNHALSMOTTAGNINGEN  Fina Nyanser I Nya Finanser 7” EP

Holy fuck, this record. I’m tempted to do one of those ultra-obnoxious “This is what punk should sound like” spiels, but I’ll spare us both and just say that This is what punk should fucking sound like. I have no clue what they’re saying and I have no idea how to pronounce their name, but I do know that the drums are recorded so perfectly it makes me want to cry. The snare just thwacks you in the face with every hit, the bass has a great gnarly, dirty, but not too distorted, tone, and the guitar coats it all in a glorious sheen of treble. The singer rants just right and I dunno, it’s just really goddamn good. The only thing I can make out on the insert is that they lift a “melody” from the Young Identities’ “Positive Thinking.” Hey, great artists steal. But it’s “Nya Lognhalsar” on the B-side that makes me want to jump off a building in pure ecstasy. I swear it’s one of the best punk songs of the last few years. The weird thing is one of these dudes was in Boyracer or something? There’s a Slumberland connect. I love this record. Buy it.  [Local Cross]

SCARCITY OF TANKS  Bleed Now CD

Scarcity of Tanks is the ongoing concern of Matthew Ming Shank Wascovich, a reclusive poet perched on the shores of Lake Erie.  Despite his playfully anti-social tendencies, “Wasco” has managed to rope many a talented Cleave musician (and sometimes beyond) into his free-rock band, flirting with noise, jazz, and the more avant-garde offshoots of hardcore punk. 2008’s No Endowments brought all of these disparate factors together in a satisfying long-player. Bleed Now finds the group as close to a “normal” rock band as they have been yet, maintaining a relatively solid line-up and playing shows on a consistent basis. The album storms out with “August,” establishing the template, as Wasco declares his lyrics over Ted Flynn’s guitar, which peels off new directions in Classic rock shred, like Joe Baiza raised on The James Gang. The rhythm section is all muscular throb, bassist Sebastian Wagner occasionally finding the hidden melodies beneath the avant-thrum (like on “Cardboard”); the drums are in the capable hands of journeyman Clevo skinsman (and painter), Scott Pickering, Puff Tube himself, member of bands ranging from Spike in Vain to Speaker/Cranker. At the mid-century mark, he still pounds harder than kids a third his age. The man is a rock.

Not content with just monotoning his abstract lyrics, Wasco sings more on this release than ever before. “Requisite Fire” has a meditative Lungfish serenity, which is blown apart by the hardcore gallop of “Melt Dove Miles.” SoT has gone through some interesting transformations over the years, but this newest version may be the best yet. On Bleed Now, they come across like some sort of mutant post-punk avant-garage Jim Carroll Band, sans the Catholic guilt, instead a heaping pile of Rust Belt blues on their plates.  [Total Life Society/Textile]

SLEETMUTE NIGHTMUTE Night of Long Lives LP

Recorded back in 2003, and quickly vanishing into a haze of on-again/off-again possible release (mostly through that notorious scene-hopping label par excellance, Troubleman Unlimited), this legendary (to a certain scene of people at least) album finally sees a proper burial via Gossip guitarist Nathan Howdeshell’s new-ish label, Fast Weapons. The Portland group was a No Wave nightmare, a post-hardcore/math rock MARS, chops to burn, especially the drummer, who executes some truly sick rolls, and alternately pleading and pestering vocals. “INTERFERENCE….B&B Girls” is nearly 6 minutes of relentless No Wave pounding, stripped of all the gimmickry of the majority of Skin Graft bands, leaving the song itself lying in the street, a naked, mutilated corpse. “Scaring the Birds…Don’t Speak My Name” sounds like what you always thought acid rain felt like. This is dark stuff, confronting the more uncomfortable aspects of flesh and its desires, similar to the body horror expressed by contemporaries like early Chromatics and Shoplifting. The slash-and-burn attack of The Scissor Girls (and even Bride of NoNo) comes to mind, but Sleetmute Nightmute shows no sense of humor, instead clamoring forth with an intensity and focus rarely seen in today’s underground. The musical dexterity is off-set by the palpable anxiety and despair. It’s certainly not a fun listen, but I find myself continuously returning to the album, surrendering to the corrosive sheets of guitar and agonized vocals, but most especially those drums, which sound genuinely pained. Despite all the emotional turmoil in these songs, it makes me happy to see this lost slice of early Ought noise is finally out there for the general public.  [Fast Weapons//fastweapons.com]
 

CIRCLE X  Untitled 12” EP

Praise be to the holy god of Nihilism that this monumental slab of No Wave/proto-noise rock is finally once again available in the preferred format, 12” vinyl. Originally released in France back in 1979, reissued on CD in 1996 via Dave Grubbs’ short-lived Dexter’s Cigar imprint, and now, once again, courtesy of Insolito, this 4 song masterpiece is out there roaming the dirty streets looking for kicks, and maybe to get kicked. It’s truly remarkable how contemporary this sounds, yet it is so utterly of-its-time. An additional paradox is how absolutely filthy ‘70s New York it comes across, yet it was written and recorded in France. Opening with the closest they get to a traditional rock song, “Tender” has a guitar line that predicts The Pixies ten years early, punctuated by perfectly-placed feedback breaks. Tony Pinotti’s anguished vocals complement the gradually-disintegrating track with maniacal shrieks to “Bow to me!” “Albeit Living” begins with layered voices reciting a brief poem then dives head-first into an abyss of near-hardcore velocities and eviscerated guitar entrails. “Onward Christian Soldier” is a dirge that plows endlessly forward, an awful invitation to a pointless slaughter; almost like a Black Sabbath song cut adrift from blues and groove, a post-“War Pigs” trudge towards annihilation. “Underworld” starts off prefiguring the violent hardcore poetry of Antioch Arrow and interrupts with mournful breaks before savagely ending just as you are getting a handle on the cacophony presented to you. It is a breathless listen, and it is highly recommended.  [Insolito]

PUFFY AREOLAS  Funk Your Head Up cassette

Like, say, Monoshock before them, Puffy Areolas are the premier psych-punk heavy-skronk noise-blasted rock n’ roll ensemble of their time. There’s (parking) lots of pretenders out there, but I’d like to see any of these new-jacks match the Puffys in either drug use or wah-overload. This 5 song off-the-cuff tour tape seems like a bit of a check-in, songs in progress, and just an excuse to make some more noise and weirdness. “1982” is a scorcher; is Damon referencing one of the prime years of hardcore (the cut is short and fast), or is that the year he was born? I dunno, it rules tho. “Gentlemen’s Grip” killed live, but here it’s a little too blown-out, it really is hard to discern what’s really going on under the mess of in-the-red cymbal hammering and slobbery vocals. Let’s hope this one shows up on a proper release with a better recording.  Side 2 leads off with an untitled jam that shows potential, a sludgy riff  straight from the ‘70s is down there somewhere, waiting to lumber out of its pen.

“Funk Your Head Up” is prime Areola, a basement Hawkwind smoke-out that could last for days.  [self-released]

VAZ  Chartreuse Bull cassette

Vaz has been around for well over a decade now. In that time, they have released many records, become somewhat of a low-key Brooklyn institution, and had many auxiliary members, but the duo of Paul Erickson (guitar/vox) and Jeff Mooridian (drums) still keeps plugging away. On this long-gestating full-length they are joined by second guitarist Tyler, and even though I wish Erickson would return to the bass (which he handled so well in Hammerhead), between the two they make up for most of the bottom end not filled by Mooridian’s still-powerful and inventive drumming. Vaz is all about relentless, mutated hardcore riffs twisted into oddly-melodic shapes, capped by Erickson’s haunted wail. He kinda sounds like someone who went insane in an encounter with a Great Old One, and he’s returned to warn you of the cosmic horrors that await. Lovecraftian hardcore? How did the Mysterious guys miss that one? Anyway, it’s impressive that Vaz can still sculpt new shapes out of their formula, and they have a sound that’s not easy to mimic, which seems in rare supply these days. There’s nothing here that they haven’t done just as well, as on, say, 2003’s Dying to Meet You, but it’s a strong document, and deserves to graduate from the tape format.  [Damage Rituals]

 VOMIT SQUAD  “Amon Ra Bless America” LP

Puke punk by Mon’ Ree-all all-scars Choyce V., K. A. Khan, D. Fuckin’ Marx, and some guy named Dick Ritalin. Stoopid Red Cross vibes ooze all over this sumbitch; it’s catchy and sloppy and might lower your IQ a few dozen points, but do you listen to punk rock music to get smarter? (I do, sometimes, but I’m an idiot) My favorite thing about this is how some of the songs (“Rapture Gun” “Howard Ruark”) almost sound like The Fugs. The chorus of “ABCDEFG” goes “ABCDEFG FUCK YOU,” which pretty much says it all. [Psychic Handshake]

THE SLUGFUCKERS  “Three Feet Behind Glass + Instant Classic” LP

The Fuckers of Slugs practically wrote this review for me. Contained within the thick-ass record jacket, in true Dada fashion, is a manifesto. It trumps any references to Down’s Syndrome PiL, Psychedelic Horseshit in a particularly foul mood, or even merely typing the names People With Chairs Up Their Noses or Makers of the Dead Travel Fast.

CONCEPTUAL OPACITY – AN ABBERRANT MUSIC: The Slugfuckers’ Test of Musical (Dis)Taste [a selection]: “This band is one big joke, one endless experiment, one eternal orgasmic wank, one in TERMINabLe BORE.” “…our only recourse is to be anti-music, therefore pro-noise.” “The audience as beggar.” “The music is just an excuse.” “…better than eating or sex sometimes.” “The sound of stoppage and breakdown.” “We spray it all back at you.” “You dose yourself with mucus, booze, and downers…”

They almost break the spew/spell with a list of “friends and heroes” that includes SPK, N-Lets (who?), TG, Pere Ubu, Lee Harvey Oswald, ATV, The Pop Group, Yippies, Tristan Tzara, Luigi Russolo, etc. But the “CRAZYMIX, SCAPDASH” rant continues, and concludes with a threat of an invitation: “We advise you to keep away. We want to pulverize you with our maniacal love squeeze, hot tears up your cunt, shove spiders up your prick, force hedgehogs up your nose: We want you to feel like us and die. Throw away your strings.” [Insolito]

LOS LLAMARADA “The Restless Light” 7”

This band perplexes me. I thought they were fantastic live a few years ago, but their records never quite get there, that place they found in a dark moist basement of a bar.

This single is a perfect example. The A-side is a formless rant that never quite coalesces into anything very interesting, because of, or despite of, its murkiness. You decide, who cares. The flip sounds like a really drunk bar band barely jamming on a blues riff going nowhere. I feel like this is a good band, but you wouldn’t know it judging by most of their records. I’m waiting for that next moment… [S-S]

HUMAN EYE/SEX BEET split 7”

There’s plenty of talk on “the Scion issue” spread amongst various forms of readily available media, so let’s skip that and address the music itself. Human Eye’s side was recorded by Ivan Julian (Voidoids) and he’s got a nice touch, softening the Eye up a bit for their take on Timmy’s “Martian Queen.” It works. You can hear early Alice Cooper band in the rolling drums and melodic psych guitar action. Somehow these guys can take that in-bred Detroit influence and twist it into something fresh.

Sex Beet, on the other hand, seem completely out of place on the flipside. Their tune, “Alone,” (and it really is a “tune”) is a pleasant enough slice of catchy, vaguely psych, pop, but, really, what’s the point? You’ve got to try a lot harder if you’re gonna be on a split with HE. Saves the trouble of turning the record over, I guess. [Scion]

BLACK CONGRESS  “Slums of Heaven”/”Defeated” & “London’s Burning”/”Davidians” 7”

Black Congress are a Houston TX rock unit made up of some former Fatal Flyin’ Guilloteens and who knows what else. What I do know is they bring some heavy punk, unafraid to grind out hypnotic riffs with all manner of keyboard/sample noise adding to the din. “Slums of Heaven” almost gets into Loop territory, a rainy day bass-heavy dirge.

You’d probably be happy to know that “London’s Burning” is not a Clash cover, but maybe less pleased with it’s rather pedestrian ‘90s post-hardcore vibe. I think it’s the unnecessarily distorted vocals, but the song itself never communicates the rage it’s attempting to channel. “Davidians” is better, circular bass groove and random noises adding some depth to the proceedings. I just realized how much this sounds like Slug (esp. the vocals), but without the latter’s, shall we say, charm. With a little more focus, Black Congress could be a deadly force. I really dig the black-and-white photo aesthetic they’ve got going on with the sleeves of these two self-released singles. Rumor has it that AmRep is gearing up again, and maybe we’ll be hearing more from these guys via those guys. [self-released; no info!]

ZULUS 4 song 7” EP

Zulus are a Brooklyn combo with a core of Oakland transplants, ex-Battleshipmen Aleks and Daniel. Aleks steps behind the drum kit but still provides his special brand of hectoring vocals; Daniel hasn’t lost a step on playing oddly catchy sharp riffs that both pummel and bite, like on “Blackout” where a snippet of a “trad” blues lick pokes its head out at just the right moments. Some of the pounding on here recalls the best of the Hospitals oeuvre’, like if the Gories got real pissed off and real stoned. This bad boy is self-released and hand-packaged and it’s rock-solid. Scoop it. [Wizard Mountain]

[most of these reviews originally published on Terminal Boredom]

Fucking in The Fitting Room

Long out of print split 7" between my band (Golden Error) and NYC (nay the world's) #1 one-man band, LiveFastDie. We were supposed to make a video for this (w/ Keith Marlowe). We had a spot (Metropolis) and a girl and some ideas (I wanted it to look supershitty early 80s public access style with all the lyrics pretty much acted out), but, cuz we're dumb punks, we never brought it to climax. Lame.

Record live in our practice space (including vocals which were coming out of a vintage Fender PA reverb tank). 4 mics into a 4 channel mixer going directly into a cassette deck. Engineered by the talented Mr. Greg Ashley, of Gris Gris/Mirrors/Stratecoats fame. Thanks, Greg, you da best.

I put this out myself on Mind/No Mind Records. 500 pressed. All gone.
If you happened to get one of the ones with the jackets made out of vintage potato chip bags from
Akron OH, count yourself lucky.

GE side art by Brandon Mulloy (and I need to get an image up here cuz it's a doozy).
LFD side by Camero Werewolf.
LFD songs were "Dawn of fhe VHS" (an all-time LFD classic for sure) and a cover of The Spits' "She Don't Kare." One day the Wolfman will put out a singles comp LP and that'll be radness personified. One of the better singles bands of the last half-decade.

Anyway, here's the song!

http://www.mediafire.com/?gp7b2tbds8ibjmz