The Living Abortions
(Blacklist)
Like a posse of hipster nightstalkers or somethin', the Living Abortions attempt the Hollywood-glamorized blood, guts, and pussy treatment. Y'know, they wanna be nasty serial killer types, but still get laid. It's gotta be easier than it looks, cos I probably wouldn't be goin' out on a limb if I were to say that there sure ain't a conceptual genius lurkin' in this bunch. Still, they've got some mighty nice structure as far as the rhythm section is concerned; they go from sub-heavy metal riffage to a groove pretty flawlessly, and the wah-wah peddler blows noise out every which way, so it's not so bad when the singer blathers drivel like "I wanna be your serial killer/feel so real." Like I said before, no one should expect more than "Get on your knees and make a wish" and the nah nah na na na type sentiments found in "Bullet for Jane" from these purveyors of pop pulp perversion. Sometimes I wish I could perfect time travel to send hitmen back to, say, 1993 to "take care of" Marilyn Manson. Ever feel that way? J.S.
Based on the "Un-Cola" concept, The Unpunk Album stitches together snotty, hyperactive punk songs with a few mid-tempo shit tracks, just to break up the monotony. If you like Nitro Records' stuff, but find it too polished, this comp is for you. Fast, borderline sloppy, and credibly-crappily produced, The Unpunk Album may just have the Rolling Stone coverdorks of tomorrow today! Songs by Pulley, White Trash Debutantes, Carter Peace Mission, Chuck, Brainsick, Tripwire, and an atrocious cover of "We're Not Going To Take It" done by Willis. The song's by Twisted Sister, not Quiet Riot, ya dorks. Who sucks more, me for knowing or you for not? S.H.
Argentina's version of The Bad Brains, Tudos Tus Muertos (All Your Dead) blend hardcore punk, African-tinged reggae, and Latin folkloric rhythms with lyrics you don't have to understand Spanish to know that are both politically fueled and pissed as hell. What does it tell you when one of the most innovative mixes of punky rap and fierce, darkly metal-esque guitar crunch are, after four albums, finally being introduced to American audiences? While Dale Aborigen+ smoothes out by the end with playful reggae and mariachi jamfests, I still doubt we're dealing with "Don't Worry, Be Happy" sentiments. Gibby Haynes would appreciate much of the warped wind-downs and lo-fi post-hip hop scratching and hardcore-turned-bizarro. A record worth seeking out. S.H.
Fast, live-sounding, angry, political punk rock - did I miss anything? Perhaps mentioning their penchant for sing-alongable melodies and "whoa-whoa"s, but that'd make the Knuckleheads sound too much like The Queers, and that just ain't the case. Once ya get used to the thin production you can hear elements of Rancid, a moment or so of Black Train Jack, and a song frighteningly similar to the Bouncing Souls - "Bred to be Employed" even opens with a quote from one of my favorite '80s movies, Fast Times at Ridgemont High . Mixing ska-flavoring with a harder/faster punk style, the Knuckleheads are both loud and melodic. R.R.
It's nice to see a punk band that remembers what it's all about. ANTI-FLAG is the kind of unspoiled, unadulterated punk that goes after the economy, society, mob behavior, every branch of the government, patriotism, jocks, schools, rich people, death, youth, people who pretend to be punk, and just about every other institution you can think of with a rigid structure, or not. I'm with these guys, fuck everybody. A.N.
This EP release is very strong, and I'd recommend it to anyone who likes Front 242 and Front Line Assembly rip-off projects. Whoops! Did I say that? Yeah, I did. It's really hard to go wrong when adhering to a strict form. What's here are four remixes of "Other World Technology" and two other tracks, "Lightyear" and "Stellar Cascade," both of which are also very good. My advice on this record is simple, if you're tired of the retro sound so prevalent in a lot of industrial, don't get this. If you can't get enough of the '80s electro sound, go get this. C.B.
It's just a live CD (plus some other stuff) of Spooky Ruben. It's pop. Whatever. But amongst that "other stuff" is something that really gets me, down deep. It seems that TVT somehow convinced DJ Spooky to remix "Wendy McDonald." He turns it into a completely different song. What once was a catchy flavor-of-the-month single has been turned into a tranced-out, just-sit-back-and-get-high eight minute groove. To me, this ain't a Spooky Ruben CD, it's a DJ Spooky CD. Set that player on repeat, buddy! L.M.
Philadelphia DJ King Britt made a name for himself spinning records while Digable Planets were on stage, and more recently as a business partner to Josh Wink, one of the world's premier club DJs. Ovum is the label these guys started, and Sylk 130 is the first signing. Gettin' Into It is an EP with five different remixes of the title track, written and produced by Britt with soul diva Allison Crockette on vocals. All the mixes are quite similar to one another, so five versions is kinda gratuitous. It's a wonderful track, though, combining soul, jazz, funk, and hip hop into a timeless hybrid that's catchy and accessible without any discernible schmaltziness. J.B.
Noise Unit
Drill (Metropolis)
Noise Unit have a God-given right to sound like Front Line Assembly if they damn well please. Bill Leeb and Rhys Fulber are once again joined by Marc Vernhaeghen to release an album of dark and dancy, dreamy tunes that are both extremely well-done and old. There isn't any new ground covered here, with the same sounds and themes recycled over and over and over again, but if that stopped us from liking something, no one would've ever purchased more than one Queers record. This is more mood music than something to dance to, but the sounds are inviting and do warrant a few listens. On a side note, the members of Huajobb (a band that hauls more ass than a bus full of "Sweatin' to the Oldies" dancers) also had some input, though I couldn't tell you how much. C.B.
As a big fan of Evil's Toy's last record, Morbid Mind ,I was psyched to get this. If you enjoyed other Evil's Toy releases (or '80s industrial in general), this won't disappoint. It's catchy, but unfortunately not as dark as their last release. Some of the keyboard parts come a little too close to New Age at times, but not often enough to annoy. This album contains no remixes, a plus considering the number of remixes that appeared on their last album. C.B.
Don't get me wrong, I'm for asleep-at-the-controls-of-the-astral-plane acid meanderock as much as anybody, but when said music progresses about as compellingly as watching a dope seed sprout in real time and ends with a repetitive organ noodle that circles without landing for thirty fucking minutes ,I gotta call bullshit on that. Yeah, it's Farflung all right... RIGHT OUT MY FREAKIN' WINDOW! Thank you, thank you, try the veal, I'm here all week. D.D.
No hackneyed Ventures rip off, this. Granted you can't escape the "Telstar" sound when playing this stuff, but The Bomboras incorporate it into their own sound. There's a little more distortion in It Came From Pier 13!, and a slight soundtrack element that recalls all those beach party-gone-bad movies of the '60s. Songs like "Guitar Grinder" have a psychedelic garage distortion all over it, while others, like "Hypnotica," go all the way over the top with reverb drums, and sax. A nice one to add to your collection. L.M.
Medium-Fi eclecticism from Bristol, completely analogue, light hearted... Beatnik Filmstars have all the elements to make them indie rock's new faves - except for that light-hearted stuff. Some of the songs on Phase 3 are definately Fall influenced, with the jangling guitars, lopsided beats and overblown mic mumbling over it all. The Filmstars seem to revel in the lo-tech approach, recording some tracks with a dictaphone, splicing tape to get the right mix, mics picking up someone playing organ in another room, and the predominance of a £5 toy plastic keyboard throughout. C.L.
I failed geography in elementary school, and it's come back to haunt me time and time again. Crumbox, for instance, is from L.A. Their album was recorded in San Diego, and their label has a Laguna Beach, CA address. Yet they sound like, you know, Chapel Hill, North Carolina. There's really no other way to describe that particular guitar sound, vocal style, and production quality. I discovered (well, I read the bio) that singer/guitarist Scott Bradford moved to L.A. from Chapel Hill in '92. And they've opened tours for Archers of Loaf. This explains a lot. Noisy guitar-pop with honest vocals, few harmonies, and no outrageous studio gimmicks. Like a relaxed conversation with a friend at a comfortable bar, Crumbox goes down smooth. R.R.
Fountains of Wayne is self-consciously cool, hip Weezer-esque pop without any really memorable hooks. There are some nice melody lines here and there, but overall it's American style garage guitar-driven pop that just never really gets rockin' enough to be interesting. There are a few tunes that have radio play potential. "Leave the Biker" takes more chances both lyrically and musically, and "Please Don't Rock me Tonight" at least has a recognizable hook, but the overwhelming sense is that these guys are the poor man's Weezer which is, well, enough said. K.S.
Some sloppy garage mechanic rock. One of girls, the drummer, is "vision impaired" (wouldn't it suit their image better to not skate around the subject and call her "blind?"), and another is a sexy piece of trash, and the third girl... uh, is a guy in drag. The songs are mid-tempo, tom-heavy, and loose as, well, the guitarist. It's good times, Miller-in-the-can, engine-oil-under-the-fingernails rock. Imagine if Mallory Knox was the mechanic, and didn't kill him, but left him in the greasy dirt, pants around his ankles as she buckled up her too-tight jeans and strolled away to play some guitar. S.H.
Brooklyn's Pist•On draw inspiration from two distinct sources, and the result is interesting to say the least. "Parole" opens the disc with a Master of Puppets-era growl, yet the fat-sounding guitars are more reminiscent of Type O Negative. Subsequent tracks show the latter to be a heavy influence in both production (conveniently provided by Type O guitarist/co-producer Josh Silver) and moody breaks. But Pist•On don't rest lightly there, they go on to explore a myriad of styles and sounds, creating a confusingly diverse album. The underlying themes are dark, heavy, and aggressive, but the execution varies widely. S.H.
Ahhh, yes... remember those crazy mid-eighties, those halcyon dance-hall days, when we were all cool on craze? When we measured our time as the breathless spaces between Thompson Twins, Re-flex, Men Without Hats and Wang Chung singles? Me neither. Main reason: all those bands sucked. I'm quite happy to report that a decade has not withered Wang Chung's stunning unintentional ludicrousness. Any band that makes the Alarm look remotely acceptable in comparison is clearly in deep shit. Such is the fate of Wang Chung. According to the liner notes "The name Wang Chung means whatever you want it to mean... have fun with it." Why, thank you. Thus endeth my decade on various Tibetan mountaintops, searching tirelessly through forgotten dusty tomes for the true meaning of the enigmatic, evocative phrase. The notes also state that "Wang Chung" is an "inaudible pitch... all music aspires to perfect pitch." I certainly wish Wang Chung had stayed true to their title and remained inaudible, sparing me an hour's worth of their hapless, dinky, fake-euro electro-pap. Still, I "had fun with it" as I pitched it, quite audibly, I'm afraid, into the nearest trash can. Now that's a perfect pitch. Mission completed, Wang Chung. Now fuck off. C.A.
Well, yes he is. And from the title track by Jerry Lee Lewis to other covers by John Hiatt, Merle Haggard, and Frank Zappa(!), George stays the course you'd expect of him and The Destroyers. I'm not crazy about Waddy Watchel's production, the album is a few shades too slick, and what happened to George's voice? Did he stop drinking and smoking? Not that it's gone bad, but where's the rasp that made "Move It On Over" or "One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer" such rough shots? Still, the covers of Merle Haggard's "Livin' With The Shades Pulled Down" and the straight-ahead R&B arrangement of Frank Zappa's "Trouble Comin' Everyday" show that George hasn't slowed down or veered off. There's something comforting in knowing that he's still doing what he does best. R.M.
Do you ever get in that mood where you need to listen to something hard, but not too heavy? Not Earth Crisis, and not Bad Brains, but something that's just right? Something that's heavy in all the right places with great melody? A band that plays the music you wish your band could write? Well, Quicksand is dead, but luckily Stillsuit is very much alive. They have those energetic and influential "post hardcore" stylings that worked for Shift, and they work for them as well. This is a band who's found that style by perfecting the formula of heaviness and melody. I think it's something like (h-x)2/m*h=b. It's probably in my calculus textbook. Anyway, enough math; At the Speed of Light just rocks, so even if you only listen to that clean-cut radio fluff that passes as today's hard music, try on this suit.
There is nothing better than a hardcore band that's able to distinguish themselves in an ever-predictable genre. Intense and solid, Tripface's debut is a must for all hardcore freaks. They jump from melodic, to fast, to experimental, with heaviness and energy all over. Lone guitar slinger Jay does a low-end crunch to high-end squeal in almost every song that's the foundation for their signature sound. Scott does that spoken-to-scream varied vocal style with some angry and introspective, yet positive lyrics. Throw in a cover of Twisted Sister's "I Wanna Rock" and Tripface are just show-offs. This is a monumental debut for this two-year-old wonder that embodies the collective spirit of hardcore. I am utterly impressed. I thought Vision of Disorder was the only band from Long Island that could rock. How wrong I was. Check this out immediately.
Have you ever not been able to make it to a show? You have to work, no money, Pop won't let you, etc. Whatever the reason, you can't go and all your fnends can. The next day, they tell you how cool it was and all the good bands that played and the songs they did, and you feel like you got the shaft. Or maybe you've gotten a flyer at a show for one of those cool New York Hardcore shows at Coney Island High or CBGB's, but you couldn't go because you live in East Barnyard, Massachusetts, or anywhere except New York. Here's my advice. The next time this happens to you, just put Creepy Crawl Live in your CD player. Fifteen New York heavyweights, all live. You name it, Murphy's Law, Warzone, Ensign, Cold Front, H2O, they're all here. Guaranteed to lift your spirits the next time you feel left out. Thanks, Jimmy G!
Japanese metalcore produced by Don Fury which blends novelty kitsch, sounds as heavy as John Candy's lard butt, and lyrics that are both insightfully metaphoric and incitefully angry. Punchy bass, slammable rhythms, and diverse time changes keep the bodies bouncing, while reading what the vocalist is roaring about will actually cause pause for the thoughtful hardcore enthusiast. Imagery, including the amazing strength of grasshoppers, chinning exercises, showering, and the idea that "same food makes same shit," takes the lyrics beyond the boy-am-I-pissed trap, making Cocobat a definite read and listen. While direct translation leads to amusing "If I grasshopper" sentences, "Every day I'm sorry, try climb the mountain" alludes to something important, and you don't have to be a genius to figure out that lying about the number of chin-ups you can do is really representative of a much larger lie.
Similar to Delta 9 in the hardcore techno sounds, D.O.A. has one very specific element that distinguishes them from the rest (at least this month): they're from New York and fuckin' proud of it. You don't have to be a genius to pick up on the accents of some of the samples chosen, nor the music clips layered in the tracks. It all reeks of New York. Like Johnny Violent, D.O.A. blenders the segments together in a non-stop, all-out, over-the-top style. What they lack in any form of dynamic, they make up for with great samples, sensory-overwhelming depth and layering of elements, and enough BPMs to make you grab your favorite uppers and press fast forward on your brain.
With the rash of electronic music spreading, it's nice to see somethings remain uncorrupted. Perhaps it just stays true to its original corruption, neither getting harder for commercial accessibility, nor more arty so ya can impress folks with how trancey yer songs are. Sheep On Drugs are honest middle-ground, neither post-speedcore nostalgia nor post-New Age non-think. One for the Money is surprisingly lucid, like a smirking My Life with the Thrill Kill Cult song mixed with "Boy, aren't we the shit-talking smoothies?" Pet Shop Boys with fingers up their noses, and just enough breakbeats and Motörhead guitar samples to remind you that this ain't Disneyland, kids. Sheep on Drugs bastardize every genre, steal clips from anywhere and everywhere, and yet still write songs. "X-Lover," and "Waiting for the Man" are my favorites, kinda like Pop Will Eat Itself when they were irreverent and still wrote catchy tunes.
Half of New York's Circle of Dust was Klank. The other half was Scott Albert. With Downside, I realize it was mostly Albert's voice and songwriting diversity that made Circle of Dust a real exception in the electronic music genre. Klank is more metal industrial - Ministry, and Fear Factory obviously come to mind, but the guitars are much deeper, more grinding death - and Klank's voice is definitely more extreme than radio-friendly hard music. Scott Albert's programming and production are what take Klank's music over the edge. While the basis is a chugging rhythm and roaring vocals, Alberts' layering of percussion, twisted keyboards, and horror movie samples (too short to really isolate) are the elements that keep you playing the songs again and again. While Klank might appeal to fans of Ministry, Korn, and Fear Factory, I'd love to hear from Scott Albert again. Circle of Dust had passionate songs of beauty and aggression, melody that'd make you weep and energy that'd make your body move.
Dave Rodgers, the man that is Delta 9, creates hardcore techno. Disco Inferno has all the elements of a dancefloor riot: loud, distorted beats, high-to-superhigh BPMs, and a mix between distorted shouts, quotes from action/adventure movies, and sounds of destruction and violence. Luckily Dave's got a great archive of samples to lift, and half the fun is trying to remember where the different clips came from. The occasional delves into white noize do little for me. While some say you can find variation and themes within the blur, all I find is the nearest aspirin bottle. And that, aside from the head-bobbin', heart-throbbing beats (bordering on palpitations as often as not), is the essence of Delta 9. C.T.