Results tagged “American punk”

Randoms: ABCD/Let's Get Rid of New York

By Sobriquet Magazine on November 28, 2009 4:17 PM

Randoms

ABCD/Let's Get Rid of
New York
Dangerhouse, 1977

Something of an early L.A. punk supergroup, Randoms consisted of X's John Doe on bass, the Screamers' K.K. Barret on drums, and Pat Garrett (Black Randy & the Metrosquad) on guitar and vocals. And you can tell: despite the relatively lo-fi recording, the band sounds remarkably tight. In fact, the gritty nature of the production probably enhances the disk, adding a layer of sonic filth to the decidedly New York flavor of the A-side and just enough distortion to the buzzing B-side to endow it with the sort of rough-edged sound that I associate with some of the best producers of the 1980s D.I.Y. scene.

Between the song's comparatively spare instrumentation and Garrett's slightly drawled vocals, "ABCD" certainly recalls the decadent spirit of post-New York Dolls Johnny Thunders, but the track is actually much closer to the playfully affected innocence and girl-chasing spirit of pop-punk than to the nihilistic drug-laden gloom of glamish Heartbreakers copycats. The B-side, on the other hand, is straight-up angry punk rock (the contemptuousness with which Garrett enunciates "all the money left on Wall Street" and "the whores left on 42nd Street," for instance, is pure bile) with an intense bassline, buzzsawing guitars, and crashing drums. Indeed, while Randoms do sound like a different band on each side of the disk, they sound like two really good outfits, and the record marks a solid -- if not great -- debut release for the seminal Dangerhouse label.

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The Frantics: Playing Dumb

By Sobriquet Magazine on July 28, 2009 4:04 PM

The Frantics

Playing Dumb
Wedge Records, 1996

The Frantics (not to be confused with the Seattle band of the same name or the Frantix, the Denver-based hardcore outfit) were a fairly successful snotcore band during the latter half of the 1990s. On Playing Dumb, the band's second 7' EP, the Frantics churn out four solid tunes decrying petty high school behavior, celebrating trouble-making grade schoolers, and championing the sort of punk rock born of slackerdom that would make the band one of the subgenre's most consistently fun groups over the next five years. Nevertheless, with the exception of a few moments on "Gimme A Doller Inc." and the title track, there's not a whole lot of pogo-worthy music on this disk. While the band's trademark buzzy guitars and nasally vocals are out in full force, Playing Dumb pales in comparison to the band's subsequent release, 1997's thoroughly rocking Downtown Delirium. Still, for a bunch of kids barely out of high school, Playing Dumb is an admirable achievement that showcases the early development of one of the snottier pop-punk bands of the late nineties.

Although the mixing on Playing Dumb is somewhat uneven (Anthony Rampant's bass is almost lost on "Bad Little Boy," for instance, and Kevin Mac's vocals would benefit from a bit more volume at times), the record is good enough to dust off for a listen every once in a while.

Sobriquet Grade: 78 (C+).

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Hudson: Out of Gas

By Sobriquet Magazine on July 25, 2009 2:37 PM

Hudson

Out of Gas
Farout, 1994

Fifteen years after its release, Hudson's "Out of Gas" EP sounds woefully dated. Like quite a few of their contemporaries, Hudson played a rather generic brand of melodic hardcore that, at its best, evoked Wig Out at Denko's-era Dag Nasty. At its worst, it could come across as a sloppy aural vessel for immature sloganeering. At its most mediocre -- and Hudson falls squarely into this category -- it sounded like a talented group of people rushing into the studio a bit prematurely, struggling to play music before having codified their sonic signature. In other words, "Out of Gas" comes apart at the seams. While the band tends to stick to their hardcore template, their excursions into poppier riffs and melodic vocalization do not always work and, as a result of these poorly incorporated elements, the end product sounds less like a hybridized fusion of compatible genres than an unfinished pastiche. This is not to say that there are not some really good moments on the record, but neither are there any standout tracks. The least interesting of the lot, a cover of Generation X's "Dancing With Myself," could have salvaged the record had the band put a bit more effort into transforming the track into a hardcore version of a '77 Britpunk classic. Instead, it sounds stale and almost hesitant, as if the band can't decide whether or not they like the original. Sprinkled with the obligatory audio clips lifted from movies (in this case, Reservoir Dogs, Sixteen Candles, and Strange Brew), "Out of Gas" is about as average a disk as you could ask for. Not bad, certainly. But neither do you have to worry about getting songs stuck in your head.

Sobriquet Grade: 72 (C-).

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Broken Toys: Prozac Baby/Pocketbook

By Sobriquet Magazine on July 25, 2009 2:48 AM

Broken Toys

Prozac Baby /
Pocketbook
Pogo Stick, 1994

Methuen, Massachusetts's Broken Toys have been releasing records for twenty years now and still, for no discernible (or, at the very least, justifiable) reason, hardly anyone other than the most voracious of record collectors seem aware of their existence. It's unforgivable, really.

The A-side of this disk sounds like it could have been on the Dead Boys' Young Loud and Snotty. Scratch that. The A-side of this disk sounds like it should have been on the Dead Boys' Young Loud and Snotty. I don't even care if this sounds bombastic or that it's a blatant anachronism (after all, Fluoxetine wasn't approved by the FDA until a decade after the Dead Boys imploded); "Prozac Baby" should be right up there with "Sonic Reducer" and "Ain't it Fun?" on Dead Boys greatest hits compilations. That's all I'm going to say.

The B-side, "Pocketbook" retains a few vestigial traces of the Stiv Bators-Cheetah Chrome desperation, but is much closer in spirit and sound to the playful brand of pop-punk soaking up the American midwest during the mid-nineties (it was, however, recorded in 1992). Whereas "Prozac Baby" is a bit on the slower, brooding side, "Pocketbook" speeds things up, swaps the Richard Hellish vocals for something closer to what one might expect out of, say, Walker, and churn out a bouncy, danceable tune.

Lyrically, the Broken Toys fit squarely in with the irreverently apolitical sort of stuff I associate with other pop-leaning punk bands from the nineties. I mean, "Prozac Baby" is about an emotionally and/or psychologically troubled girl "who ain't crazy" and takes "a little pill" to elevate her mood and the boy who loves her while "Pocketbook" deals with the aftermath of petty theft. You know, nothing too deep or overtly proselytory. Just fun.

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Flirt: Don't Push Me! / Degenerator

By Sobriquet Magazine on July 19, 2009 2:14 AM

Flirt

Don't Push Me! /
Degenerator
Real Records, 1978

Forming in 1976, Detroit's Flirt was one of the first punk bands to emerge out of the Motor City and, like the Stooges and MC5 before them, the band developed an intense and often raw garage rock sound. Led by the husband-and-wife duo of Skid and Rockee Marx, Flirt sounds like what would happen if Janis Joplin lived past age 27, grew bored with psychedelia, and joined the Stooges after Iggy Pop went solo. Indeed, Rockee DeMarx's inimitable vocals elevate what would otherwise be a merely good, baldly derivative slab of hard-edged garage punk into a whole different beast.

Track Listing:

Track 1. "Don't Push Me!" With its relentless swirl of proto-metal guitar solos, thoroughly un-saccharine backing vocals, and handclaps divested of any last vestiges of bubblegum, "Don't Push Me!" injects a healthy dose of punk vitriol into music that could appeal equally to acid rockers and hair metal headbangers without an ounce of the self-indulgence or wimpiness one associates with either late sixties hard rock or mid-eighties balladry.

Track 2. "Degenerator." Like the howl of a wolf lost in the streets of the Motor City, DeMarx's prolonged vocals on the B-side cut through the of the wail of guitars with a ferocity as primal as they are furious.

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The Queers: Love Songs for the Retarded

By Sobriquet Magazine on April 17, 2009 1:56 AM

The Queers

Love Songs for the Retarded
Lookout! 1993
Asian Man, 2003

If you asked me about the Queers ten or fifteen years ago, I'd probably say something about how I enjoyed them live but didn't really dig their records. Back then, I thought their recordings were a bit too soft, a bit too derivative of the Ramones and, as a result of this impression, I rarely listened to their records. I suspect I may have been a bit put off by apocryphal accounts of the band's homophobia and similarly off-putting behavior. What always baffled my friends was that it made absolutely no sense for me not to love the Queers. I mean, I was constantly playing Ramones and Screeching Weasel albums, always enthusiastically seeking out the latest pop-punk releases, and routinely featuring bands like the Teen Idols and Groovie Ghoulies on my radio show.

It wasn't until quite a few years after I had left the fertile Twin Cities punk scene that, in a moment of nostalgia for that period of my youth, I picked up Love Songs for the Retarded, pressed play, and initiated a belated love affair with a band I should have fallen for long ago.

Let me put it this way: Love Songs for the Retarded is as close to a perfect pop-punk album as you are ever going to encounter. Seriously, it practically epitomizes the genre. The songs are pure bursts of three-chorded, hook-laden bubblegum pop with immensely catchy, sing-along choruses and silly, playfully childish lyrics about girls, hippies, punks, drinking, and hanging out. While not quite as adenoidal as Ben Weasel, his good friend and frequent collaborator, Joe Queer delivers his vocals with enough nasally swagger to give the songs a modicum of Weasel's gloriously snotty inflection, lending the music a pitch-perfect air of punk rock impertinence.

Lyrically, there are quite a few gems on this disk, too. Among the more amusing:
Last night I had burritos and drank a lot of beer
And now a funny smell is emanating from my rear
My girlfriend tries to hold her nose and falls into a swoon
I got a problem and I don't know what to do...
HELP!
I can't stop farting
and
I know you think I'm just a useless, stupid punk
Because every night I come home drunk
Hi Mom, it's me, the fuckin' little shit
The ugly little monkey who used to suck your tit
Seriously, "my girlfriend tries to hold her nose and falls into a swoon?" Who the hell says swoon? Fucking hilarious. And the crassness of "[t]he ugly little monkey who used to suck your tit?" You can't get much more punk than that.

All-in-all, there isn't a single dud on Love Songs for the Retarded. Most pop-punk bands would call it a successful career if they could release a greatest hits record half as good as this disk.

Highlights:

Track 2. "Ursula Finally Has Tits." There's a certain moment in many a middle school boy's life that often stands out as one of the greatest memories of his young existence: that magical time, usually between fourth and sixth grade, when girls suddenly come to school with breasts that hadn't been there before. "Ursula Finally Has Tits" celebrates one such moment, when a group of punkish kids notice that the cute girl they've had their eyes on has reached that crucial stage in her development transforming her into a crush-worthy object of adolescent desire. Although neither the band's name nor the album title are the most politically correct of statements, "Ursula Finally Has Tits" actually seems to poke fun at some of the more lamentable aspects of gender relations. At one point, when the singer rejoices in Ursula's development, he explains that "now she's cool," sardonically referencing the tendency many males have to ignore women who do not meet their standards for attractiveness. Oh, and the lead guitar riff will be stuck in your head for decades.

Track 4. "Teenage Bonehead." One of the most beautiful vocal performances on the album, "Teenage Bonehead" will give you your fill of whoh-oh-oh-ohs and ooh-ahhs.

Track 5. "Fuck The World." A song I associate as much with Screeching Weasel as with the Queers, "Fuck the World" is as good as it gets. A tale of punk rock love and slackerdom whoa-oh-oh'd over one hell of a sweet guitar riff.

Track 8. "Debra Jean." If there were any justice in this world of ours, "Debra Jean" would play at every high school prom ever. Channeling the bah-bah-bah-bah-bah'ing spirit of sixties' pop radio, this song is basically a sped-up slow dance.

Track 13. "Granola-Head." This is the Queers song most likely to appear on Eric Cartman's iPod. Punk rock's sportively antagonistic hippie-bashing has found its theme song.

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Third Leg: I Don't Know What to Call This E.P.

By Sobriquet Magazine on April 13, 2009 9:13 PM

Third Leg

I Don't Know What to Call This E.P.
Lung Oyster, 1991

Whenever I take a trip out to Minneapolis, I make certain to visit two record stores: Cheapo's in Uptown and Extreme Noise on West Lake Street. The latter, a retail offshoot of the Profane Existence collective, frequently includes little blurbs about the records they carry, helpfully steering crusty punks looking for d-beat disks away from poppy ska or sappy emo. When shopping at the former, though, you've really got to know what you're looking for. If you're not careful, you could end up with a Third Leg EP.

Clearly, I wasn't careful. No, I took one look at the luchador taking a dump on the cover and decided a better value for my dollar could not be found. Unfortunately, though, a lucha libre mask doesn't guarantee quality. Strange, that.

I was all excited, too. I mean, there I was, standing in the same store where Bob Mould had met Grant Hart some thirty years earlier, holding a record produced by Spot, the very man employed by SST to produce Husker Du!

Alas, I Don't Know What to Call This E.P. is an underwhelming mixed bag of uninspired metal-tinged hardcore and sludgy proto-grunge.

Track Listing:

Track 1. "Pride." In this bit of garden-variety hardcore, Andy delivers a facile jeremiad on the "fucking lame" varieties of "white pride, black pride" that prevent us from realizing we're "all the same."

Track 2. "Reality." With vague lyrics that read like the melancholic doggerel scrawled in a less-than-precocious high-schooler's notebook, "Reality" is an unexceptional bit of post-hardcore. It's listenable, but ultimately forgettable.

Track 3. "Believe." Another one-word title, another bit of jejune sloganeering (about the need for some ill-defined variety of "solidarity," this time) and you've got more bland hardcore.

Track 4. "Take on Me." This awful cover of a-ha's 1985 new wave hit is what really damns this record. I should emphasize that it's not that Third Leg takes the piss out of an iconic 80's song that irks me about this track. It's just how truly bad a piss-take this version actually is. I mean, the Meatmen totally took the piss out of the Smiths with their rendition of "How Soon is Now?" and that was an awesome track so, really, taking the piss out of an 80s band can be done well. But Third Leg seems to trip over itself, missing notes, ridiculing Morten Harket's infamous falsetto, and otherwise coming across as drunkenly inept during what sounds like a live performance.

Sobriquet Grade: 71 (C-).

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Uphill Down: Uphill Down

By Sobriquet Magazine on April 12, 2009 9:10 PM

Uphill Down

Uphill Down
Squirrel Cake, 1994

From what little information I have been able to find on the band, Uphill Down existed roughly for the duration of Bill Clinton's first term in office, dropping two or three records during that period, including this self-titled seven-incher. Hailing from Richmond, Virginia, Uphill Down were local openers for such scene luminaries as Hot Water Music, Strung Out, and Diesel Boy. Indeed, Uphill Down has all the hallmarks of the sort of record a perennial opening band would have released in the early nineties. It appears to be one of those DIY efforts an unsigned group would have pressed on the cheap, lug from gig to gig, and hawk from behind a folding card table while the crowd milled about the club between sets. Not surprisingly, the photocopied liner notes and free silk-screened patch and sticker tucked into the sleeve hint at the sort of charmingly enthusiastic self-promotion of which any self-respecting troop of Clinton-era pop-punkers would be proud.

All of this is speculation, of course, and none of it is intended to be disparaging. I mean, if my surmises are correct, the Uphill Down EP is certainly nowhere near the bottom of the stack of similarly-produced early nineties pop-punk releases. The problem is, it's nowhere near the top either.

What we've got here is pretty run-of-mill pop-punk: short, fast, fun, a bit campy, and to the point. There's also a rather gratuitous cover of Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It," absurdly sped up to clock in just under 1:45. With mellow backing vocals, well-placed harmonizing, good-natured lyrics about friends sprinkled with bits of pre-emo introspection, and waves of power chord melody sloshing over a steady backbeat, Uphill Down is about all one could ask for from an opening band. It's also just what you'd expect: a bunch of relatively indistinguishable songs played in roughly the same style as the more accomplished headliner, just competent enough to whet the appetite without stealing the show. Unfortunately, though, such music rarely makes for a memorable disk.

The cover art, though, is great -- one of those little bits of punk art that just makes you smile. Here we've got an impossibly lanky, bespectacled caricature of Jeff Calvert, the band's drummer, wearing a Star Trek t-shirt and a knit ski cap, looking as if he is about to be abducted by two of Roswell, New Mexico's finest Extra Terrestrials. Sweet.

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Pitch Black: Half Empty

By Sobriquet Magazine on April 11, 2009 5:47 PM

Pitch Black

"Half Empty"
Cheetah's Records, 2002

In yesterday's review of the Worhäts / Strohsäcke split 7-incher, I mentioned that I felt the recording blunted the music's edge, taking the bite out of what seemed to be some pretty solid German hardcore. I went on to imply that, more often than not, the harder a band's music, the more difficult it is to capture their energy on vinyl. Pitch Black is a glorious exception to this rule.

Despite the errant notes and screeching amplifiers scattered about the recording, "Half Empty" is a remarkably crisp, hard-nosed horror punk disk. Kevin Cross's serrated vocals, like the best of Frank Carter's performances on Gallows' Orchestra of Wolves, practically slash through the band's impressively tight wall of sound while never quite crossing the threshold into outright screaming. He does, however, spend a good deal of time occupying the liminal space between impassioned singing and piercing cries. And it works.

Not to be outdone, Jamie Morrison (drums) and Martin Munroe (bass) deliver some of the most intense punk 'n' roll performances I've heard in quite some time and the final product is one hell of a record. Punk to a fucking T, even: fast, loud, angry and oh so replayable.

Oh, and lest I forget, the cover art is beautiful. That is, if a trio of terrified-looking mod corpses could be described in such terms.

Sobriquet Grade: 82 (B-).

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Shock Nagasaki: Year of the Spy

By Sobriquet Magazine on January 10, 2009 5:35 PM

Shock Nagasaki

Year of the Spy
Rebellion Records, 2006
TKO Records, 2006

Originally from the, uh, "legendary" punk rock incubator of Syracuse, NY, Shock Nagasaki wisely relocated to the friendlier (musically- speaking, at least) confines of Brooklyn and promptly made a name for themselves as one of the more overtly British street punk-inspired American bands. Indeed, Shock Nagasaki sound perfectly at home on the TKO Records roster, resembling as they do such labelmates as Slaughter and the Dogs and the Angelic Upstarts. Likewise, you hear echoes of Chelsea, the Business, and several dozen other second-wave British legends on this disk. The Clash? The Buzzcocks? You name 'em; someone will probably say that Shock Nagasaki sounds similar.

And they'll probably be right. Shock Nagasaki is an exceptionally polished outfit, capable of appropriating the anthemic singalongs of your favorite oi! band and the punkified glam-rock guitar riffs of the '77 sound to compose what amounts to a record that feels like it was released a solid quarter-century ago. In England.

Ultimately, if one is to find fault with the band, it can only be in the form of accusations of derivativeness. Still, even if Year of the Spy does sound like a collaboration between the Business and 999, it's still a damn good record.

Highlights:

Track 3. "Palisades and Renegades." Easily one of the album's most sing-alongable tracks, "Palisades and Renegades" ends with what may be one of the best bits of anthemic rock 'n' roll I've heard in years.

Track 5. "Classified Information." Another song, another immediately catchy chorus with just about as many hooks as a guitar lover could ever want.

Track 10. "Hit the Beach." This was my introduction to the band. Possibly the record's most radio-friendly track, "Hit the Beach" is a searingly sarcastic take on military recruitment. It's one hell of a rocker, too, complete with a killer lead guitar and seriously catchy choruses.

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Egg Hunt: Egg Hunt

By Sobriquet Magazine on January 8, 2009 5:31 PM

Egg Hunt

Egg Hunt
Dischord Records, 1986

Egg Hunt was a one-off side project put together by Ian MacKaye and Jeff Nelson three years after the pair had last played together in Minor Threat. Dubbing themselves and the lone seven-incher resulting from the collaboration "Egg Hunt" because the whole thing went down over Easter weekend (while the duo was in England meeting with Southern Studios owner John Loder to discuss the distribution of the still-young Dischord's releases in Europe), the disk contains two songs:

Track 1. "Me and You." A song MacKaye and Nelson had been jamming on for several years prior to the Egg Hunt project, "Me and You" is a slower, droning track dominated by mesmeric, loop-like guitar riffs. Although there are bits of spoken word sprinkled throughout the recording, MacKaye and Nelson's mantra-like delivery of "me and you" for the duration of the song combines with the gradually increasing intensity of the guitars and drums to create a trance-like effect that eventually culminates in a speedy crescendo of pure headbanging bliss.

Track 2. "We All Fall Down." MacKaye actually wrote the B-side for his first post-Minor Threat band, Embrace, who decided against recording the track. Significantly, "We All Fall Down" marks a transitional period in MacKaye's development as a vocalist. Although there are traces of the vitriolic bark one associates with his earlier bands, the perceptive listener will stop for a second, perhaps blink a moment, and recognize that MacKaye is actually singing. Most impressive, however, is the complexity of MacKaye and Nelson's instrumentation, which anticipates the stunning trajectory of the former's songwriting in Fugazi. If the restrictive walls of mid-eighties hardcore were still standing when Egg Hunt went into the studio, they were rubble by the time the stylus lifted after "We All Fall Down" finished, heralding the arrival of Fugazi's revitalization of the DC scene.

Sobriquet Grade: 89 (B+).

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Visionstain: Fouronseven

By Sobriquet Magazine on January 4, 2009 6:09 PM

Visionstain

Fouronseven
Silverdish Records, 1995

If the pictures grazing the lunch box emblazoned on the sleeve of this 7" are any indication, Visionstain are probably pretty nice people. I mean, they're smiling and hamming it up for the photographer, looking like they're having fun and not taking themselves too, too seriously. And, really, I tend to pull for groups of people for whom making music seems to be more about enjoying oneself than taking a businesslike or pretentious approach to artistic creation. That said, Visionstain are an unremarkable three-piece outfit hailing from the unremarkable de-industrialized city of Rochester, New York and Fouronseven is an unremarkable EP showcasing this unremarkable band's unremarkable sound.

Basically, Fouronseven sounds like the sort of thing a for-fun band would put together on a cassette for some of their friends. I mean, Visionstain isn't awful, but I'm puzzled that someone at a record label thought highly enough of these four songs to say, "Hey, let's do a rekkid, kids!"

Piling alternatingly soft, melodic female vocals and gruffer male vocals onto a bed of distortion-heavy, punkish alt-rock, Visionstain is certainly listenable, but their sound on Fouronseven is quite dated. The early-to-mid nineties were rife with bands that played faster (think Dirty-era Sonic Youth), feedback-heavy alt-rock. Adding a slightly "punker" edge to that generic sound on this disk, though, does very little to make Visionstain stand out from the pack.

Sobriquet Grade: 68 (D+).

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The Asteroids: Life on a Asteroid / Instant Knowledge

By Sobriquet Magazine on January 3, 2009 5:59 PM

The Asteroids

"Life on a Asteroid" / "Instant Knowledge"
Snail Records, 1978

There's a lively bit of discussion over at Killed By Death Records (which is where I downloaded the 7") about whether or not The Asteroids were some session musicians putting together a quirky faux punk side project or a real band. Regardless, the A-side, even if it is ersatz punk, is absolutely one of the best songs I have heard in a long, long while. I mean, if it really is a parody of new-wavy punk, its so spot-on a spoof that you can't really be sure it is a joke. Seriously, I love so much about this song that I'm going to have to give you a list:

1. The band's blatant disregard for the rules of English grammar on the A-side makes their indulgence in the time-honored (and thoroughly pretentious) tradition of naming songs after one's band that much funnier.

2. The completely un-punk use of hippie-speak like "I don't dig the human race" and "I don't want this useless jive / that Earthman needs to stay alive." Evidentially the Asteroids didn't get the memo about how much punks hate hippies.

3. The music is, in all seriousness, perfect. From the opening ten seconds of radio-signals-in-space guitar twang and the insanely polished drums backing it up to the rockabilly-ish riff that blasts the song open, "Life on a Asteroid" is pure aural bliss.

4. The vocals are awesome. It's like Richard Hell visited Motown or something. Then there's the whispered "life on a asteroid" backing vocals setting up this call-and-response thing with the lead singer.

5. The lyrics are hilarious. In addition to the aforementioned hippie language, you've got what sounds like an attempt to sound "punk," but by whose standards I don't know. Opening with "[b]aby, I wanna live on a asteroid," the singer initially seems to express some fondness for the auditor. But then, the singer informs us, "life on a asteroid is gonna be good, it's gonna be great" because we, the listeners, "won't be there." In fact, he "can't wait" so he plans to "steal a rocketship" to take "a one-way trip" away from squares like us. As he leaves, though, he gets one final barb in at people who, unlike him, are not from outer space, telling us he doesn't need the "useless jive" we require to live. Then, in response to what can only be the auditor's expression of joining the alien in space, the singer shouts "Hey, punk! Get your own asteroid!" leaving us bereft. Seriously, the silly pseudo-misanthropy is awesome.

The B-side, "Instant Knowledge," is a snide bit of straight-up new wave with digitized vocals that sound as futuristic as the tin-foil suits in a lousy sci-fi B-movie look. Again, it almost sounds like an older group of people making fun of the simplistic conventions of a younger generation's musical fad... It's not bad, though. The Asteroids could certainly play, joke or not.

Sobriquet Grade: 85 (B). This is an average. The A-side deserves to be legendary.

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The Low Budgets: Go Bargain Hunting With the Low Budgets

By Sobriquet Magazine on January 2, 2009 11:47 AM

Now, this is a fun record. Led by Joe Genaro (perhaps better known as the Dead Milkmen's Joe Jack Talcum), the Low Budgets are an aptly named (seriously, the sleeve for this 7" looks like it was made on a computer from 1984, complete with pathetic clip art) group of garage-tinged pop-punkers. If you were not aware of Genaro's presence in the band, you'd probably assume, as I initially did, that the Low Budgets were a bunch of high school or college kids who scraped just enough cash together to put out a bit of vinyl. Then again, you really can't judge a record by its cover...


Although the record is largely a hard-driving punk disk, the Low Budgets add a vintage organ to the mix, giving "Bargain Hunting" just enough late sixties flavor to what would otherwise be a fairly pedestrian (albeit, very tightly performed) bit of straightforward punk. The little dashes of ska, surf, garage, and psychedelia, though, make "Go Bargain Hunting" well worth a listen.

Track Listing:

Track 1. "SNAFU." A bit on the generic side, "SNAFU" is the least memorable song on the record. Not that it's bad . . . it just sounds like a lot of other stuff out there.

Track 2. "Hey Creator." Opening with a riff reminiscent of the one upon which the Animals' "Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" is built, "Hey Creater" quickly shifts gear into a totally skankable bit of pseudo ska just in time for Joe's repeated cry of "you're a skank!" Then it becomes another pop-punk tune. In other words, "Hey Creator" is a pretty solid introduction to the sort of pastiche-ridden music for which the Low Budgets should be praised.

Track 3. "Settle Down." This sounds like someone fed Iron Butterfly's opening band to Walk Together, Rock Together-era 7 Seconds.

Track 4. "Born Before the Internet." Saving the best for last, the Low Budgets deliver a delightful mix of punk, reggae, garage, and hardcore to close out the disk.

Sobriquet Grade: 82 (B-)

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Drunk in Public: Tapped Out

By Sobriquet Magazine on December 31, 2008 11:33 AM

Back in the mid-nineties I hosted a radio show on my college's in-house station and, of all the record labels I contacted, Fearless Records was the most enthusiastic about sending me their releases (I also remember getting some stuff from Fat Wreck Chords and the station manager taking all the NOFX CDs for himself...). While none of the CDs I got from Fearless were mind-blowingly original, I did enjoy adding some Blount, Glue Gun, 30 Foot Fall, Grabbers, and White Caps tunes to the program. At any rate, the one record I recall playing most frequently both on- and off-air was Drunk in Public's Tapped Out! so it is with some pleasure and quite a bit of nostalgia that I return to the disk this early New Year's morning.


One of the legions of similar-sounding pop-punk bands active in the late eighties and early nineties, Drunk in Public contributed some of the catchier tracks to a few of the era's more memorable compilations, toured the States a couple of times, and released Tapped Out! which, it seems, remains the band's most well-known work.

As I've said, though, Tapped Out! does little to distinguish itself from what is, in retrospect, an unbelievably sprawling body of largely-forgotten pre-Green Day boom pop-punk. Still, while the style and sound of the music is essentially interchangeable with those of now-neglected bands, the album's quality production and the band's tight musicianship combine to make one of those disks that I will continue to dig out once in a while to add some variety to my (soon-to-be-resumed) radio show. Furthermore, the bits of funk (especially on the slap-bass happy "Don't Give Up"), hardcore, and pseudo-hair metal (take the Van Halenish opening to "Looking Back," for instance) make the record stand out from the pop-punk pack. But not by much.

Highlights:

Track 1. "The Way He Feels." This was always a popular song when I played it. The first of many songs about relationships on the album.

Track 3. "Enemies." Probably the band's most well-known track, "Enemies" appeared on at least one compilation (one of Fearless's Punk Bites disks) and is yet another breakup song.

Track 4. "Meaningless." A hardcore-tinged song about a dysfunctional relationship. Noticing a pattern yet? The whoah-oh-oooh-oooh-ohs, though, make it a keeper.

Track 5. "Everyday." Take Screeching Weasel and move them to sunny California and you've got another catchy Drunk in Public love song.

Track 14. "Shades of Gray." The best vocal performance on the disk, I reckon, "Shades of Gray" offers a lot for the punker looking for something to sing to while sitting in traffic.

Sobriquet Grade: 81 (B-).

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Boris the Sprinkler: 8 Testicled Pogo Machine

By Sobriquet Magazine on December 22, 2008 11:03 AM

Boris the Sprinkler were one of the most deliberately zany punk bands of the 1990s and early 2000s. Fronted by the notoriously bizarre Rev. Nørb (who, when I asked him, assured me that his name was pronounced "Norb" but that he had stylized the font, intending the "ø" to be read as as a "null" rather than the Norwegian letter it actually represents), Boris the Sprinkler churned out a series of pop-punk albums that were, by turns, riotously funny, gratingly cacophonous, delightfully melodic, obnoxiously moronic, and thoroughly enjoyable. Hailing from Green Bay, Wisconsin, Boris the Sprinkler proudly flaunted their Cheeseheadedness, often referring to local hangouts in their lyrics and even penning a song about pining for a grilled cheese sandwich on Saucer to Saturn, their 1995 sophomore LP.


Opening with the unmistakeable and inimitable voice of the late Wesley Willis mimicking the famous introductory words to the MC5's Kick Out the Jams, 8 Testicled Pogo Machine immediately aligns itself with the brand of self-consciously absurdist Dickies-style campiness. After introducing each of the band's members in mock-MC fashion, Rev. Nørb, deeming himself "the voice of Geek America" (the man is perhaps best remembered for wearing his antler helmet, a football helmet with the words "PUNK" and "GEEK" plastered to its surface) proceeds to open the album with its geekiest, punkiest track, "Drugs and Masturbation."

Lyrically, "Drugs and Masturbation" sets the tone for much of the disk. Boris the Sprinkler, like many of the pre-emo boom pop punk bands of the nineties, were pretty much obsessed with the sex they could not get, the girls they could not get it from, and the hands they turned to in moments of frustration. The amplified self-depreciation, candid celebration of marginalized status, and the unabashedly onanistic tone of the song informs much of the album's remaining lyrical content. The record's second track, "Get Outta Here" is the tale of a single man living in his mother's house who refuses to succumb to a girl's unwelcome advances because he's "not that desperate yet." Like the Ramones' "I Don't Want To Walk Around With You," "Get Outta Here" is pure punk rock anti-love and a fitting introduction to a theme the band further distills in "(She's So) Disgusting." On "The Way It Is," however, the Reverend croons about a girl he believes is too good for him, wishing that he had actually mailed "a letter [he] never sent" in which he "told her how [he] felt." Furthermore, we eventually learn, the singer has never even spoken to the girl, placing "The Way It Is" alongside such nineties pop-punk versions of this eternal rock 'n' roll theme as Screeching Weasel's "Totally" and "Claire Monet." On the track "1-3," the speaker sings about his unfortunate discovery that a girl for whom he has developed a physical attraction is, in fact, a mere thirteen years old. Though she is half his age, the ephebophilic character struggles with his forbidden attraction to the unwitting Lolita. And, in case you haven't yet realized that a huge chunk of the album deals with the seemingly impossible act of forming a healthy relationship between a male and a female, "Girls Like U" makes the point abundantly clear.

Other than tales of unrequited love, 8 Testicled Pogo Machine makes frequent mention of fast food (Taco Bell, in particular), classic punk bands (the U.K. Subs), and comic book characters (Archie Comics' Professor Flutesnoot and Mr. Weatherbee and the Green Lantern make an appearance).

Musically, the album is quite a bit more diverse than most records classified as pop-punk. While you've got tons of Ramones-y stuff going on, there's a clear roots rock element to the record as well as bits and pieces of what might be considered Doo-Wop, rockabilly, Lemonheads-esque alt-pop, and (deliberately) horrible a cappella. What really unifies the album is the band's aforementioned zaniness. The concentrated weirdness and light-hearted, tongue-in-cheek lyrics about such pedestrian topics as drinking grape juice ties the album together at least as much as the rapidly-played, elementary power chords.

Highlights:

Track 1. "Drugs and Masturbation." Truly the voice of Geek America.

Track 9. "The Way It Is." I remember listening to this song over and over again in my freshman dorm. What I loved then - and what I still love today - is the perfect evocation of a self-critically melancholy mood. It's a frank admission to oneself that "I fucked up," a vain attempt at stoic acceptance of disappointment with some beautiful backing vocals and a guitars that'll hook you instantly.

Track 11. "Gimme Gimme Grape Juice." How punk is this? I mean, you take a Ramones title, replace "Shock Treatment" with a relatively under-appreciated beverage (at least in punk songs, where beer is more often than not the libation of choice), add a jailhouse-issue harmonica performance, and play over standard, chugging pogo punk. Oh, and then add an almost-Elvis "Gimmuh-Gimmuh, uh-huh" for good measure. And then burp to end the song.

Sobriquet Grade: 85 (B).

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No Empathy: Ben Weasel Don't Like It (EP)

By Sobriquet Magazine on December 3, 2008 1:14 AM

Although Marc Ruvelo and crew abandoned heavy metal by the time they released their second album, Freedom of Flesh, in 1989, No Empathy never really lost the harder edge of their earlier sound. Indeed, while the Ben Weasel Don't Like It EP has all the hallmarks of a good straightforward punk record -- speed, relatively uncomplicated chord progressions, et cetera -- there are more than a handful of metal-tinged moments on the disk. Some of Ruvelo's vocals could easily be transferred to a thrashcore record without much alteration and the guitars on "Another Word for Unhappiness" do occasionally evoke images of feather-haired, spandex-clad cock rockers windmilling their way through some arena ballad, but the metalish aspects of the band are kept in check and never really approach the ostentatious posturing of some (unnamed) bands with similar tendencies.


That said, this is a good punk record. In addition to the title track and the band's cover of Bad Religion's "Chasing the Wild Goose, which appeared, respectively, as the A and B sides of the original 7" release, the Broken Rekids EP adds three solid original songs to the mix.

Track Listing:

Track 1."Ben Weasel Don't Like It." A good-natured poke at Ben Weasel's notoriously opinionated Chicago scene reports and columns for Maximunrocknroll, "Ben Weasel Don't Like It" is framed by a scene in which Marc Ruvelo asks Ben for the punk rock pseudo-curmudgeon's opinion of his band, to which Ben declares "that, uh, pretty much totally sucked." As a gimmick between friends, the voice-over works nicely and ribs both Weasel and his detractors. I mean, in my limited correspondences with Ben, he has struck me as an uncommonly kind and considerate individual, quite unlike the vitriolic nose-wrinkler some people claim his columns present him to be. "Ben Weasel Don't Like It" sets the record straight: Ben is opinionated and he has a sense of humor about it. He's as willing to criticize himself as he is to critique others. Oh, and the song fucking rocks. Easily one of the best No Empathy tracks out there.

Track 2. "Chasing the Wild Goose." The story is fairly well-known in punk circles: After the successes of their self-titled debut EP and first album, How Could Hell Be Any Worse? in 1982, Bad Religion inexplicably began writing keyboard-laden progressive rock when preparing their sophomore effort, Into The Unknown. Although the band has refused to re-release what many consider to be a disastrous punk rock faux pas, the record did make it out of the studio and into the hands of puzzled hardcore fans worldwide. After the head-scratching and eye-blinking subsided, it seems, people noticed that a few of the tracks were, ultimately, not half bad. "Chasing the Wild Goose," a tale of depression and desperation not wholly unlike some of Bad Religion's later work, is one such song and No Empathy's rendition, while slower than the rest of the EP, is a fairly catchy tune, preserving the melancholy of the original while injecting a bit of actual punk energy into the track.

Track 3. "Maps." Straight-forward poppy punk and a suitably mid-tempo bridge between "Wild Goose" and the faster fare comprising the remainder of the EP.

Track 4. "Another Word for Unhappiness." Certainly not a standout track, but replay-worthy nonetheless.

Track 5. "Veteran." Okay, this sounds like the sort of music I remember from the nineties: bouncy bass lines, buzzing guitars, and dueling vocals on the chorus. Perfect for slam dancing.

Sobriquet Grade: 82 (B-).

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My Foolish Halo: Piaphabakrist

By Sobriquet Magazine on December 1, 2008 1:09 AM

Piaphabakrist is another one of those decent mid-nineties Harmless Records releases that add a sense of depth to one's record collection. For some punks, of course, the more obscure a record the greater the amount of credibility he or she could boast in the scene and owning a copy of My Foolish Halo's lone release, I suspect, could help someone hoping to achieve Punker-Than-Thou status impress a friend or two.


This is not, of course, to say that Piaphabakrist is an especially bad record. If anything, I'd say it's pretty agreeable to the ears. It just lacks the sort of standout tracks one would expect from a distortion-heavy outfit such as, say, Teengenerate or Scared of Chaka. In the end, the disk is merely good but not memorable.

The first track, "Coming Down," in my opinion is really the strongest song on the record. With uncommonly soulful vocals, "Coming Down" balances just the right amount of melody and fuzz to fashion a song I wouldn't mind hearing featured as a "deep cut" on some pre-satellite radio punk show. . .

The remainder of the disk, however, doesn't quite distinguish itself as particularly original in any way and, while each of the tracks are solid enough, the end result is barely more than a collection of halfway decent punk songs. There is a sense of barely restrained frenzy that occasionally punctuates the songs, lending the record an admirably energetic sound but, unfortunately, the listener is left with the distinct impression that My Foolish Halo could have been a really good band had they only had the chance to develop. As it stands, however, Piaphakrist is a good illustration of the distorted garage punk sound so prevalent some ten to fifteen years ago but, then again, so are dozens of other disks from the era. Still, this is a listenable disk, if not one one would put on repeat (forgetting for the moment that it is a 7" vinyl record and not a CD).

Sobriquet Grade: 75 (C).

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Hüsker Dü: Metal Circus

By Sobriquet Magazine on November 28, 2008 1:06 AM

Metal Circus was the first Hüsker Dü record I ever heard. It was also the first record I ever owned by a band that would become a central player in the soundtrack of my youth (and, so far, young adulthood). I don't remember where I found it, but I do remember listening to the cassette over and over until it began to show signs of wear. Yes. I owned the cassette. Tapes were where it was at when I began listening to music in earnest; CDs, with all their shininess and "don't get fingerprints on 'em" warnings, were still a bit too expensive for me when I was a teen. They were for rich kids. And since LPs were falling out of favor (pity!) by the early nineties, I really hadn't any other option . . . though, admittedly, I wish I could have played Hüsker Dü on my Fischer-Price turntable. That would have been kind of cool, no?


As I caught up with the swing towards digital music, I found that I played certain beloved tapes less and less. While I was able to find CD or iTunes versions of certain seminal albums like Never Mind the Bollocks, the first four Ramones disks, the Jam's first couple of records, and London Calling, I wasn't ever able to find Metal Circus. Not surprisingly, I hardly listened to it over the ten-year span following my switch to exclusively CD-based music.

Now I'm not sure whether or not the fact that I felt I couldn't play the album (or, rather, EP) contributed to the feeling, but Metal Circus assumed an unrealistically brilliant aura in my memory. Of course, as New Day Rising, and Flip Your Wig spun in my diskman, I often thought back to the overplayed cassette versions of Zen Arcade and Metal Circus I had not listened to for so long. Over time, both tapes became legendary, part of Erik's Punk Rock Canon.

Fast-forward another few years, when the iPod nation has made the conversion of old music formats a profitable industry. Now, thanks to the wonders of technology, I have been able to digitize my cassette collection (finally, Generic Flipper on my iPod!). It probably says a lot about the power of memory, but the first cassette I digitized was Metal Circus. And I haven't been disappointed. Jesus, what a band!

It might sound weird, but I rather like listening to the MP3s I dubbed off the old cassette because it transferred some of the aural flaws to the digital file. It kind of adds a sense of authenticity to the experience. Or something equally quixotic and pompous-sounding.

At any rate, the Hüskers waste no time gunning their engines, opening Metal Circus with the blazing "Real World," a scathing critique of early 80s punk rock posturing. The frenzied melody of "Real World" continues on "Deadly Skies," as both tracks foreground Grant Hart's frenetic pounding and Bob Mould's soul-piercing, proto-Cobain growl (not to mention the melodic buzzsawing of Mould's guitar). The third track, the slower (by Hüsker Dü standards) "It's Not Funny Anymore," as is typical with Hart-sung songs, retains the melody of the preceding tracks while eliminating Mould's famous vitriol in favor of Hart's equally famous Hippie-punk mellowness. Hart's vocals, while undeniably less gruff than his more famous bandmate's, are not quite as smooth-sounding as those he showcases on later albums such as Flip Your Wig. The added rawness of Hart's voice on the track helps make the album feel a bit less Janus-faced than some of the band's later, more explicitly Mould-versus-Hart efforts. "First of the Last Calls," like "Real World" and "Deadly Skies" is remarkably fast-paced, with Mould's and Norton's relentless strumming layered atop Hart's mile-a-minute drumming, but the song's brilliant final thirty seconds (owing perhaps to Hart's perfectly timed ahh-ahh-ahh-ahhs) somehow manages to inject the aforementioned mellow quality for which Hart is known into the most splenetic of Mould's screeds in such a way as to make the entire album come together in a matter of seconds. While both "Lifeline" and "Out on a Limb" seem consistent with the band's sound during their early hardcore period, it is really "Diane" that, along with "First of the Last Calls" really suggests the wholly original direction the band was to take over the course of their career. Slower, but certainly not mellow, "Diane" is the song that made it possible for Nirvana to release "Polly" a decade later, chronicling the rape of a young woman from the perspective of her assailant.

Highlights:

Track 1. "Real World." Yeah, take that, Maximumrocknroll!

Track 4. "First of the Last Calls." You can hear the entire course of Husker Du's career on this one song. Fucking indispensable.

Track 6. "Diane." One of those extremely rare songs that single-handedly broadened the narrow confines of hardcore punk during the 1980s. Hüsker Dü churned out several dozen of these extremely rare genre-busting tracks, but this remains one of the best.

Sobriquet Grade: 93 (A).

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The Swingin' Neckbreakers: Shake Break!

By Sobriquet Magazine on November 9, 2008 1:01 AM

Growing up in rural New Jersey, I didn't have very many ways to discover new music. The local mall's shoebox-sized Sam Goody was, for most of my youth, the only music store around and, while I was able to buy a few Ramones, Circle Jerks, Black Flag, and Dead Kennedys cassettes there, the amount of punk rock available to me was pitifully small. Nor was the Internet much of a help because, in my mid-teens, it was still restricted to academics and military intelligence. So, it was a small miracle when I picked up a copy of Maximumrocknroll on one of my infrequent excursions to a slightly more populous area. That issue blew open my musical menu and I read that damn fundamentalist punk rag cover-to-cover. Still, lacking a checking account and, even more devastatingly, a turntable, I couldn't order many of the bands I'd read about.


What MRR did give me, though, was a sense of what was out there, of what was possible. Within a month or two, I started my own fanzine, Sobriquet Magazine, the photocopied-and-stapled publication that has evolved into what you see before your eyes today. Of the twenty-two copies I sold of that first issue, four were sold by the owner of Hackettstown's wonderful little independent record store, Sound Effects. When I went to check in on the zine, the owner, Jerry Balderson, informed me that he'd sold all four copies of the zine and went to get the four dollars he'd collected for me. Once I realized that this man had generously sold a zine for some kid he'd never met before without taking a penny for himself, I decided to buy something from his store as a teenage attempt at showing gratitude. Looking around hastily and not really expecting to locate anything that I would have really wanted, I happened to see a small stack of Book Your Own Fuckin' Life, an annual MRR publication that the zine had been touting as the DIY Bible. When I reached for my wallet, Jerry insisted that we "trade" my four zines for the BYOFL, essentially giving it to me for free.

When I got home and started paging through the listings in BYOFL, I was delighted to find a listing for Princeton's WPRB Radio's punk show, "Hey You Kids, Get Off My Lawn!" and promptly nudged my radio's dial into position. Every Saturday night for the rest of the time I lived in New Jersey, I listened to Jen and Mike's program, discovering bands like Screeching Weasel, Tilt, Teengenerate, and New Jersey's own Swingin' Neckbreakers.

After I had taped every broadcast that I could, I made a compilation of my favorite songs, which I would bring with me on my next decade's travels through Norway, Minnesota, Quebec, and New York. By the time the cassette had worn out to the point where I didn't really want to risk playing the tape anymore, I'd systematically located most of songs on CD, but I could never find the Swingin' Neckbreakers. Luckily, Little Steven's fondness for the band meant that the Neckbreakers were featured regularly on his Sirius channel, the Underground Garage. Of course, he never played "I'm in Love With Me," the track I'd first heard more than ten years before. Thanks to the wonders of the Internet, I was able to locate the song on Shake Break! which I promptly set out to get my hands on. Of course, it wasn't available on iTunes or any other MP3 site I checked out, so I had to order the disk and I had to pay handsomely for the privilege.

And you know what? I don't regret it a bit. Shake Break! is a wonderfully fun garage punk-meets-Creedence Clearwater Revival record. Between originals like the aforementioned "I'm In Love With Me" and "Help Wanted" and covers of tracks like "Ice Water" (Glen Barber) and "Brown Eyed Girl," the Swingin' Neckbreakers are every bit as entertaining as the wrestling move from which they take their name (see the Honky Tonk Man's "Shake, Rattle, and Roll").

Highlights:

Track 1. "Wait." This fast, poppy tune channels the spirit of the Kingsman Trio and infuses it with a burst of pop-punk energy.

Track 2. "Mighty Mack." Here we have "a silly white boy" singing about a"mighty black" singer named Mighty Mack who, despite the fact that he "could have been the King," was forgotten by the music establishment that ripped him off. With a steady, pounding backbeat, "Mighty Mack" is one of the album's most immediately accessible tunes.

Track 8. "I Wanna Be Your Driver." A frenetically-paced, bluesy chunk of pure rock and roll.

Track 9. "I'm In Love With Me." The reason I bought this album. A sardonically-told tale of narcissism ("And there's no one that's gonna come between me"; "you're in love with me, but you're too late. I'm already taken by me," etc.) sung over a straight-forward punk background. Fucking brilliant.

Track 12. "A Thousand Times a Day." Fast, loud, and catchy: the sort of love song that a tough guy can play for the apple of his eye without having to worry about compromising his cool.

Track 14. "The Girl Can't Help It." A speedy, thoroughly energetic cover of the Little Richard classic.

Sobriquet Grade: 84 (B).

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