CD Reviews: September 1996

Wesley Willis
Fabian Road Warrior
American 

Well, I guess it is now no longer a question of talent at all, but a question of fad. This is the 90’s age of fads are us, (see disco clubs) and anything people will buy is good music. Bullshit. This is garbage. Not music. The people at American Records should be ashamed to be in the music business. Dino Paredes (American hotshot who signed Willis) is an idiot who would sell his family for a buck. Maybe Willis is crazy, maybe deranged, but definitely NOT A MUSICIAN! This is the same song 24 times in a row and I’m not kidding. I’m sorry did I say song??? No, I meant ‘sample’. I loop of a kids jingle with Willis rambling about something or someone stupid. This is record company hype at its lowest form. If you buy this record, then you are the loser getting screwed by a huge company who makes millions of dollars off of idiots like yourself. Unfuckingbelievable. —Mr. Pink 

Thing & Nothing
Tasm Lab 

This is some sort of rock opera. It wouldn’t occur to 99/100’s of you to consider buying it for even a second. Therefore I need to speak only to 1% of the readership when I say that eating your college roommate’s shit would leave a better taste in your mouth. —Capt. America 

Social Distortion
White Light, White Heat, White Trash
Sony / 550 Music 

There is a reason Social Distortion is one of the coolest bands around. They sound just like they did back in 1982. They haven’t turned grunge or neo/punk or pop/fag. They just rock. Straight ahead full throttle no bullshit guitar heavy rock tunes.

“I’ve got society’s blood running down my face, somebody help me get outta this place…” The way it oughta be. —Maxx 

Psychotica
American 

Looking at the cover of this album, I noticed the usual Parental Advisory sticker (meaning the word fuck was probably going to pop up!), and the neat fact that they had played at Lollapalooza 96 (second stage, obviously!). What it really needed on the jewel box (at least for me), was a big unhappy face sticker, warning me to stay the hell away! Damn, if this CD didn’t rub me in the most wrong of ways! Try and imagine Fishbone and David Bowie getting together and attempting to play really bad covers of Rage Against the Machine. On second thought, don’t try that, since I don’t want to be held responsible for the ugly visions that might be created in your head. But seriously, this is one terrible creation in anyone’s book (I dearly hope!). I felt like a virgin nun being subjected to my first GWAR show, up front and center to catch all the blood and meat with no escape anywhere. I was especially disturbed to hear their bastardized version of DEVO’s “Freedom of Choice,” making me quite ill to hear it slaughtered with absolutely no shame. I wish I could find out where this band will be playing next, and then show up with a canoe paddle to slap across their fat heads until they apologized for putting out this much crap for me to try and endure! But until I get that chance, all I can do is send out smoke signals to warn the other tribes of this evil I have heard and let them know they must avoid it at all costs! —Billy Fish 

Oblivians
Popular Favorites
Crypt 

Yee-haw! What are the Oblivians doing in SLUG? I guess it’s because SLUG is the address Crypt had and their last disc was reviewed in SLUG. What we have here brothers and sisters is a nasty and dirty piece of aluminum. The Oblivians are in love with old blues. We went over all that when Soul Food came out in ’95. Here is a review of the lesson few paid attention to. They incorporate the blues into their music in a manner similar to Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and the late, great one Jefferey Lee Pierce. There is however, one slight problem. The Oblivians are somewhat more crazed than either of the previously mentioned names. Why do you think they aren’t opening for the Beastie Boys? These lads reside in a space very few are allowed to occupy. The Flat Duo Jets are there, Jack O’Fire is too, so is Hail Adkins, Teengenerate used to live in the area, but they moved. The Mono Men, the Trashwomen, the Nomads, and others of similar persuasion join the likes of Junior Kimbrough and R.L. Burnside. Last time they covered Lightning Hopkins and Trio. This time it is Brownie MgGhee from 1956.

Very few discs of this quality are released in the United States. The quality contained in the pits is not for ears accustomed to highly produced “product” released in shameless attempts to fortify the bottom line. Grab a bucket of chicken, a self-contained Goldstar or similarly priced budget compact disc system, some unleaded gasoline to huff and the cheapest bottle of whiskey the Utah State Liquor store sells. Place the disc in the player, press play, and then repeat. Turn all the knobs (slide all levers) to their maximum. Begin eating chicken, take a huff of gasoline, drink some whiskey and repeat. When the chicken, gasoline and the whiskey are all gone, the “system” will be destroyed and you will be passed out in a heap of Oblivians love. That is rock ‘n’ roll. To Helen; beg, borrow, or steal a copy of this disc from the grid corporate offices you sell-out whore (and I’m not?). —KRLA, King of the Wheels 

Trainspotting Soundtrack 

This movie and soundtrack have treated me good since day one! Seeing the show first, I was loving life when some dip in the box office didn’t show up to the change box, and they let all us Monday matinee freaks in for free. Then on the same day I stop by SLUG headquarters and find this tasty nugget buried in the new music begging to be reviewed by yours truly! Damn, that’s nice! Already familiar with most of the music from my screening, I was delighted to kick back and enjoy old classics by Iggy Pop and Lou Reed, alongside new British bands of the last few years like Blur and Elastica. Today’s music world is constantly surrounded by the many cutting-edge soundtracks for every new movie under the big red sun, but this one is a true treat, bringing sly old favorites to combine with wicked new cuts from the wonderful world of alternative/dance music. As Renton, the main figure (and anti-hero), in the film would most likely say, choose life. Choose to see the movie. Choose to buy the soundtrack. Choose the right decision and do both! —Billy Fish 

Trash Brats
Out Of The Closet
Circumstantial Records 

Any guess on what this CD sounds like? The band is from Detroit, they wear makeup and they wear dresses. The band thanks the like of Get Hip, Jeff Dahl and Sloppy Seconds. One would imagine a combination of New York Dolls and Stooges sound, but it ain’t happening. All the guesses are wrong. The Trash Brats are yet another punk band with plenty of hooks and harmony. It would be easy to dismiss them for sounding just like a thousand other bands, they do the “Oi! Oi!” thing but it’s “Hey! Hey!” They are the catchy sing-a-long type of songs included and they do the “ba-pa-ba-ba-pa-ba’s” too. Unlike lesser bands, the Trash Brats creatively throw Hefty bags filled with surprises into their music. How about the honky tonk aspect presented in “Valentine’s Dream”? Or what about the Jerry Lee Lewis/Moon Mulligan/Big Tiny Little piano presented during “No Jangle Thrust” and “Comfort Me With Lies.” If a band has to play punk rock at least they can attempt to differentiate themselves from the pack. The Trash Brats at least do that they finally win me over completely with “Working For Our Chains.” “Appetizing, that McSoylent Green / Hypnotizing, just watch that flashing screen / Paralyzing, we’re glued to our seats / There’s no use rising, just sit back and become what you eat. And be a proud link in the chain / and keep in workin’ for the chains / we’ll all be workin’ in the chains.” —Corporate Whore 

Supercop Soundtrack
Interscope 

Ah, Interscope. I used to date somebody that worked at Interscope when their major act was Gerardo, so don’t get cocky boys. Then they signed Primus and what the fuck’s his name… Tupac Shakur, and the rest is history. 2Pac appear appears on this album with “Made Niggas.’ 2Pac is, of course, an assho. Tom Jones and Ruby do “Kung Fu Fighting,” the perfect song for Jackie Chan. He don’t take himself seriously and that’s why I’m gonna see Supercop as soon as it comes to video. Warren G is about as exciting as his Kenny namesake with “What’s love got to do with it,” Black Grape is funky with Harry the Dog. DEVO remakes “Head Like a Hole,” a song that one would not thing is ripe for remaking, it’s musically about the same with Mike singing, and I think it’s pretty fucking hilarious. Dimebag Darrel (!) shows up to pay tribute to the Jackie Chan metalhead fan club, which I never considered in existence but now that I think about it I’m sure it’s large. Rocket from the Crypt is unremarkable. Siobhan Lynch does “Stayin’ Alive” gone techno, another hilarious song: you could argue that there’s no reason on God’s earth to do it, but since someone took the time you might as well laugh. Tha Dogg Pound in fine, Goatboy’s cool, No Doubt is whatever you already think of them, Pur (named after the water filter?) bores me, Polara doesn’t matter, and Joel McNeely is the main title theme, which means I need to see the movie before I pass judgement. All in all pretty good for a soundtrack aimed directly at the masses and totally exploitative. Either Jackie’s got some funky fans or Interscope knows what they’re doing. —Capt. America 

The Queers
Don’t Back Down
Lookout! 

What is this? The Beach Boys of punk rock? Shut up! A friend of mine produced this disc, he helped write three of the songs and he guest stars on guitar and vocals. Actually J.J. Rassler is the reason I have the CD at all. Punk historians might remember that he was in DMZ and was also an early Queer. There are those who like to make fun of certain styles of music because it doesn’t fit their narrow perception of what is good. Rassler is employed by Rounder Records as a tour co-ordinator. Rounder is a true indie label, not something masquerading as independent while a multinational provides the financing. Ever wonder why I try so hear to sneak reviews of Rounder “product” into these pages? 

Back to the Queers. Don’t Back Down is indeed the Queers tribute to the Beach Boys (believe it or not I wrote the lead before reading the enclosed bio.) “Don’t Back Down” is a Beach Boys tune. There are other sugary slices of pop-punk to be found on the new one. Don’t ever think band-wagon, the Queers have been at it for 14 years. “No Tit” opens the disc; it is a love song and a defense of flat chests everywhere. “Punk Rock Girls” is the single. Let’s see if the radio will play that slice of pop. If they do and if you can find a copy it is backed by “Little Honda,” another Beach Boys’ song. That tune also appears on the Bubblegum Dreams EP. If that ridiculous Beach Boys tribute album featuring all the “new country” idols is your idea of the Beach Boys you need Bubblegum Dreams desperately. Junior Brown is the only one getting things correct (‘“409”) on that other piece of shit. Back to the Queers. The tribute to Leslie Gore is “I Can’t Get Over You” featuring lead vocals from Lisa Marr of Cub. Marr, Joe Queer and Rassler teamed up to write the song. Other tunes of note are “Brush Your Teeth” and “Born To Do Dishes.” Don’t Back Down restores my faith in pop punk as a musical art form. A most excellent piece of plastic dude. The Queers will be in Salt Lake City, (without Rassler but with Marr) to play their music once again live and in person with the Smugglers and Cub. The date is September 26. It is an all ages show. —Mike Curbdog 

Goober Patrol
Vacation
Fat Wreck Chords 

This has really been one hell of a summer for punk records, and this little number is a prime example of the great tunes that are available for your listening pleasure. The noise this band puts out is too damn addictive! More along the vein of British punk with a touch of crossover ska (Specials and The Clash pop into mind), I was playing this CD for a third time before I realized I needed to get on with other reviews. The vocals of their raspy-sweet vocalist reminds me of a younger Johnny Lydon of early PIL recordings. But the guitar is too rude and crude to be anything but pure original poppy-crunch! Add the tightest drum heads in California and a speed-freak bass to boot, and you have one kicking punky quartet! I would give Goober Patrol three thumbs up if I had an extra hand, they’re that tasty! Angry fun that laughs at themselves, as well as others, the Patrol is off and running with a rough and ready sound that is quick to please! —Billy Fish 

Go Sailor
Lookout! 

Lookout! is always pulling out the sweeter nuggets from the vinyl corner and slapping together a great CD collection. This CD of underground Berkeley darlings, Go Sailor, is a wonderful collection of a number of 7’s and some other compilation tracks. If you love sweet girlie punk-pop in the same area as Vaselines and the Raincoats, this is the boat you’ve been waiting for. It reminds me a lot of American Shonen Knife, with sticky-sweet pop tunes that melt on your brain like butter on a hot sidewalk. Simple and direct, these fun and fancy-free tunes are just what you need to accompany you in your VW Beetle rag-top on the way to the beach or waterpark. Young and cool, Go Sailor is an amazing trio that really could take over the hipster scene if given half a chance…really! Turning any frown upside-down, let these three grab you by the hand and take a barefoot walk across the cool grass of the punky park with your new best friends. —Billy Fish 

Brawl
Thalidomide
Allied 

Punk out of Northern Ireland is going to kick punk out of middle America’s ass on principle. When your cousin was killed in an IRA brouhaha, it has a different impact on your music than your cousin getting another ticket for falling asleep drunk at the wheel and running into Mr. Miller’s barn. Of course, I’m sure Brawl would not appreciate being judged solely on that merit (if at all), so it must be said that were you not to know anything about them, they’re not bad. They’d remind you of Helmet. They’d be seen as “get in, fuck it up, get out” music. They’re simple (although one lyric says simplicity becomes a dirty word) and most importantly they’re sincere. And that sincerity makes a world of difference in a medium that’s becoming old. The same chords and the same beats and the same intentions, in all but rare cases it’s a shell game of subtlety to weed out what makes a difference. Brawl makes my cut. —Capt. America 

Ultra-Lounge
Cocktail Capers / The Crime Scene
Capitol 

If you haven’t figured it out by watching Kramer on NBC’s Seinfield, it’s cool to be a hipster, and not the tired 70s MTV poser you see on every fifteen year-old kid at the mall. The authentic, old school, retro look is taking off like a 747, and not just in the clothing fashion sense. The whole swinging lifestyle, baby! We’re talking smoking dinner jackets, dry martinis, large convertible caddies, and the shades down low in the swanky penthouse. But to pull it off right, you need the tunes to give it a sly soundtrack! Ultra-Lounge has been producing a number of smooth collections that will put Audrey Hepburn in your breakfast at Tiffany’s with no problem. The playboy will love the Cocktail Capers, filled to the top with vintage tracks that go down easy like a Long Island ice tea at the Stardust Casino. Add the cool and moody sounds of The Crime Scene, and you have more party gems than any music vault can handle in one large evening for certain! So next time you’re feeling like a true Dick Van Dyke or Mary Tyler Moore, touch base with these tangy little numbers and feel the past giving you one more blast for good measure! —Billy Fish 

Red House Painters
Songs For A Blue Guitar
Supreme Recordings 

Oh, how sweet it is to have the Painters back with new vinyl! Forget Mazzy Star for the dark and tender songs of love and loss, because Mark Kozelek and company are the true masters of the aforementioned arena of thought and sound! Always a guitar-driven band, the new collection is even more centered on the emotions involved with expression through the six string, hence, the title for the latest endeavor, Songs For A Blue Guitar. Playing the field of both acoustic and electric, Kozelek puts on a show of angst-ridden melancholy, stripped down to the very soul at times. Neil Young influences are easily seen throughout the album, especially in the incredible finger picking acoustics to monster chords in epic pieces, like “Make Like Paper,” a 12 minute journey through loss and remembrance. Although a few covers are added, Yes’s “Long Distance Runaround,” and The Car’s “All Mixed Up” bring strangely together, the original material is strong and vibrant. Still the underground giants of songs involving isolation and loneliness is another huge step for the Painters to eventually step out of the shadows of obscurity and accept a spotlight for true talent and integrity at last. —Billy Fish 

Penny Dreadfuls
Restless Records 

OK, you know how I’m a huge sucker for lovely female bands, and this is definitely one of them! But after slipping in this disc, I knew that the only thing that outshined these female’s beauty was their honest talent as a group playing straight up heavy pop. Try mixing a strong-yet-delicate voice with a munching guitar that is surprisingly similar to old Sabbath-style riffs. That really threw me at first, but I soon embraced it as both original and very catchy. Playing all areas of the rock spectrum, don’t bother labeling this band as anything but damn good! Harmony and strong guitar control most of the songs, which is an easy order to accept. I never fell for the whole Hole thing, and I don’t see where that band got the media stroking all the time, especially when there are females like the Penny Dreadfuls that really deliver the goods so easily and obviously. I mean, what do you really want? Pity-party hype, or four girls kicking out the good stuff with amazing pop prowess? C’mon, you kids do the math and don’t reference Spin or the Stone to figure it out. —Billy Fish 

Peaceful Meadows
Maximum Party!
Allied 

I’m told that it’s cheap these days to put out your own CD. All I can say, it certainly must be. Get a band together, a few people come see your show down at the local dive, hey, they’re drunk: I’m not blaming THEM. God knows the crowd should enjoy you; they want to be entertained, they want to dance. The truth however is that if I’m drunk and in the mood for dancing, you could get on stage and take a syncopated shit and I’d enjoy myself. So enough guys go “dude, you ought to put out a disc!” and next thing you know, I have to review it. Well, I’m not seeing you live, I don’t have all my friends here, we’re not trying to impress girls, I’m not drunk, I don’t want to dance, and these guys wouldn’t be original punk if they’d come out in 1966. —Capt. America 

Pipe
International Cement
Jesus Christ 

After a quick and harsh listen, I quickly reaffirmed my reasons for not drinking whiskey and going to the go-cart track anymore. It just gets out of control real quick and ugly as hell, just like the latest from the newest band from North Carolina, Pipe. There just is no holding them back from start to finish throughout the entire CD. Hard and fast, mean and quick, don’t expect anything but a sure-shot kick in the ol’ pooper on every track. Imagine a scary mix between old Motörhead and Urge Overkill, with a blaring guitar distorted until the tube amps are blowing. Can you? It’s cool, but really wild beyond compare! What the hell is going on in the South to create such dirty little monsters that are out to kick this much ass? I couldn’t tell you, but I like it, by golly! Produced as raw as the band plays, don’t expect anything less than bar-room-brawling, drag-racing, Everclear-drinking, old-fashioned rock and roll that takes no prisoners, save those with balls big enough to stay at the table long enough to take in this monster attack on the ears and not be completely blown down in their wake. Wow! —Billy Fish 

The Queers
Don’t Back Down
Lookout! 

Still working the ropes of the punk boxing ring, the Queers are ready to go a few more rounds again. Mixing standard old-school punk and pop harmonies, this new collection of songs is a strange hybrid between sounding like Ramones and whacked-out Beach Boys with a hard-on. Either way, you can really catch the similarities and influences of both bands in their songs on this record. Known far and wide as a true working/touring band, their sound is still raw and tough, carved out of the many long miles put on road playing all over the States in every stinking shithole that will have them. They’ve hit SLC plenty, and should be around soon again in our backyard to slap together another super show. While you’re waiting for the date and venue, pick up this little bubblegum punk pick and get caught up on their new material to add to the list of old classics in their catchy arsenal of songs. It’s sure to keep you entertained with innocent songs of love and blatant words of pissy anger and hostility, as only the Queers can base a whole music career behind! —Billy Fish 

Snuff
Snuff Said… /Flibbiddydibbiddydob
Fat Wreck Chords 

I have heard more talk and hype about this band than any other band in the last few months, and for a very good reason. They really are all that and a big ol’ bag of chips! Most young punk bands can barely put together enough songs to make one decent album, but Snuff has so much talent at their disposal they pieced together two new releases! The first, an explosive mostly-original set, is a seat blaster from start to finish. Strong and swift, the nineteen tracks are all guaranteed to drag you along for the ride of your musical summer season with as silly a grin as possible on your melon face. Check out the cover of “Tiffany” and tell me if you’re not tapping your toes while laughing your punk ass off?!? Tight as a vise, and combined with raspy-silk vocal harmony, and what a bloody good sound you find! The second release, Flibbiddy… is mainly a covers EP (nine songs!), and has some serious power packed inside it. Racing along like an alcohol-burning funny car, this short-but-sweet collection is damn tough! I lucked out and got both of them, being the wiley writer of tasty tunes. Now it’s up to you to decide which one, or both, to buy and start pushing Snuff off with some gusto yourself! —Billy Fish 

Single Cell Orchestra
Asphodel Records 

It’s 1993. You’ve dropped acid and gone to a rave in the basement of Club X, a big warehouse-y space where a pool used to be. There’s lights and smoke and a guy in silver boots handing out oranges and from midnight until about three in the morning they’re playing rave pop songs like “O Fortuna” and “Sesame’s Treet” and “Everybody’s Free”…”Feels Good” (or whatever the hell that was called, I certainly never bought it). Then when the peaks over and things make sense again but now they feel really fucking good, somebody puts on this album and you just stand over at the side and let it wash through your pores, repetition and pulsing electronic heartbeats and slow wave neurons and watching the crowd move around you love every mother loving one of those bastards, and all is right with the world. Of course, it’s 1996. Time’s up, get a life. —Capt. America 

Trenchmouth
The Broadcasting System
Skene! 

C’mon down easy, and try this skanky sound on for a smooth trip in the dreamland of future ska-ville. I was completely taken back by the sounds being emitted by my stereo, letting the disc run its course and take me back to the urban jungle meeting the coolness of the dark Jamaican grooves. This is one funky number, pulling old influences like R&B and ska, and throwing in a pinch of everything from progressive to dance hall to make an addictive stew of collective sound and music. The rhythm tracks are thumping and sexy, pushing the guitar to gently create a wavy, numbing sound that moves back and forth like the waves on a beach. This kind of music goes over like a big fatty at a Rasta party, with everyone getting down with the hip noise. A sweet departure from the usual copycat crunch of today’s mainstream music, the bass sounds on the tracks remind me of old Wailers and more recent Dub Narcotic Sound System (without the whiteboy vocals!). Authentic and original, the skanky sounds of Trenchmouth are best heard in a smoky room or in the open with the sun or moon laying out the atmosphere for this intoxicating array of warm and sultry music. —Billy Fish 

Escape from L.A. Soundtrack
Lava 

The next several months should be interesting. The Crow: City Of Angels is competing with Escape From L.A. at the box office and the movies have competing soundtracks. They even have some of the same artists. White Zombie, The Toadies and Deftones have a song on both soundtracks! I can see the children trying to decide which to buy right now. It all depends on what gets played on the radio or MTV. Society is now made up of clones. Sure there are variations on the theme, call it a society with tribes of clones. Each tribe wears the same exact clothes, they listen to the same exact music and each has their own clone radio station. So all of you silly clones can go down to the record store and purchase whichever soundtrack manages to impress the corporate executives in charge of deciding what you hear on the radio. Just buy them both to complete your collections or try to win copies for your collections by listening mindlessly to the radio. —Hurt Russell 

Deadbolt
Tijuana Hit Squad
IRS Records 

Oh come on. “Yeah!…Yeah!…Yeah!…yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah” is a lyric? The self proclaimed “scariest band in the world” has worked their schtick into a contract with a major label. Okay, so it isn’t quite a contract with a major label, but Cargo has been picked up for distribution by EMD. What that means is that Deadbolt might be available in the “bargain” stores, but don’t count on finding Smears and don’t look for any of it at Walmart. Deadbolt is starting to remind me of Wesley Willis. He’s crazy, what’s their excuse? Oh!? They’re crazy too? The same, or nearly the same chord progression backs lyrics of an exceptionally weird nature. Ever wondered what happened to Cockeye? He isn’t on this new one, he is replaced by “Convict Man” and Cole. We don’t find out what happened to Cole either because Deadbolt doesn’t know. They are down in Mexico pretending to be gangsters with the Mexican Mafia, or some damn thing. Harley, Les and R.A. are the main culprits. Methinks they’ve read too many true crime magazines and damaged their hearing with too much twang and reverb. Everything moves just a tick above slow-motion as tales of horrible nature are recited. Torture, murder and crimes of a despicable nature are the topics of Deadbolt as they either smoke unfiltered Camels or generics while wearing leather gloves. It would be so easy to become all critical and pass them off as some sort of bizarre surf/psycho/semi-billy band. For me any band that can keep working the same territory over and over again while adding new and weirder creative elements with each new release is at least worthy of respect and by all means worth checking out when they return to some seamy dive in October to “scare” all in attendance. Some of their lyrics are just plain hysterical. Heckle them, they love it and after the show go right up and meet them. They aren’t scary at all. Invite Harley to MC your next dance. —Deatbeat Mom 

Dakota Wildflowers
Silver Springs Records 

This band is sure to become the new darlings of Active Radio and the Modern Rock charts. Heavy guitars, raw vocals, loud/hard/quiet/soft-fast/slow/fast, you all know what it sounds like. You march like the lemmings you are down to the mall to pick up a copy from the endcap. And guess what? It’s on sale. Find the ad for the Dakota Wallflowers in the Blockbuster/Media Play/Musicland/Camelot/Fred Myers displays in your Friday paper. The release date was June 25 and to date none of this occurred. What? Have you finally tired of the same/same/same, did the new Pearl Garden Sound jam live in the Stone Temple of Nirvana take all your money or have you turned into a Lemming Kravitz, hooting at the bluefish while the band of Matthews, Dave sings the praises of poppers before lying with Morissette, Estefan, Dion and Carey screech out the pleasures big dollars give them? —Sick Of It All 

Chainsuck
Angelscore
TVT Records 

Chainsuck is an undiscovered little treasure. They are led by Marydee Reynold, a vocal teacher and Berkeley School of Music graduate. She sings and plays the guitar. Without the rest of her crew things would be more of the fad of the moment, “girl singer fronts rock band.” Chainsuck isn’t a “rock” band. Also on board are Robert Trifiro (keyboards), Michael J.F. Smith (drums) and Doug Vargas (sampling). The tendency is to compare Chainsuck to Curve or Cocteau Twins because of the ethereal nature of the vocals. It isn’t so because as the instrumentation should demonstrate there is a certain hip hop, laid back industrial lean to the music. Angelscore is a slow burner that requires a suck or two now and again to keep it lit. Lie back and shut your eyes, let Reynold take you to a world of calm beauty where once and a while a surprise insertion provides the impetus for engaging in bump and grind. —Big E 

Chainsaw Kittens
Scratchie 

“I can’t understand why all these college rock bands look so normal, like they just got out of class,” explains Tyson Mead, singer of the Chainsaw Kittens. The blurb on the back of this advance CD goes on to state “that the band will continue their steady touring schedule as we (Mercury) work toward their major breakthrough.” Hmm. I’ll be watching to see how hard they work to break the band through. Oh, oh, there’s the nonsense syllables already appearing in the second song. Ba-da-ba-da-ba. Damn it! At least they aren’t British. By the third song they win me back when they beg, “can you do that trick with your tongue, you know you’ve only done it once,” as the violins and possibly a theremin saw away in the background. Some ability with the tongue is a more highly desirable skill than typing in the labor pool. “Mouthful Of Glass” again features the weirdly surreal sounds of whatever they are using (press materials are lacking so i don’t know if they actually have a theremin on board). and it mentions something about a blowjob with a mouthful of glass? Retreating into Lennon/McCartney territory for “The Lash,” they fully reveal their shameless pop rock tendencies. Bop-ba-da-ba-bop-ba-dah, please don’t do that. God damn it. Okay the CD is sometimes pretty, sometimes edgy and always charmingly poppy. A nice way to spend an hour, but I don’t think I’ll be returning for a second time. —Denise McCloud 

Catherine Wheel
Like Cats and Dogs
Mercury Records 

Snore…snore…snore. How pretty is the new one from Catherine Wheel? Much too pretty for my taste and much to sedate. I thought this was supposed to be a psychedelic band and not a band to accompany a Tuinol eating session. No, I didn’t listen to the whole thing, I couldn’t. I want to live! I want to live! A disc to accompany a tear soaked suicide attempt. Snore…snore…snore. —Lemmy 

Aunt Bettys
EastWest Records America 

Don’t even think I’ll be naughty and give the Aunt Bettys a bad review. They give written thanks to Paula Donner and Angelica Cobb. Those two have helped support my music addiction for a number of years. The little booklet included with the CD has illustrations, provided by Tim Okamura, which depict space travelers in a Chevy, pills, syringes, a variety of liquor, a fallen angel, Jesus Christ tending bar, a tattooed lady and a lobotomy? The music itself is some kind of mixture of Southern boogie, the dreaded “alternative” rock, hippie jamming, glam rock and a few Lou Reed…er…Neil Young-like inspirations. “Needless to say” it is an entertaining platter from the get go. Sadly, the Aunt Bettys appear to be one of those bands that the record label didn’t believe in enough to invest a little of the old “payola” type of bread in. Don’t worry, no one will ever find out about “payola” in the ’90s. The entire system is so corrupt – there is so much money involved – that an investigation could topple the American way of life. The next to last song is the best. Acoustic guitar backs a spoken word piece on the joys of barroom life, something I wouldn’t know anything about. Nice job, Aunt Bettys. I hope the spaceship finds you and removes you to a better place. —Ass Man

Marilyn Manson
Anti-Christ Superstar
Interscope 

Yet again, the world bursting into flames is recorded to a pounding industrial beat. Whodunit? The CD arrived with two strips of tape. One listened to the song title and the other listed the recording studio and the date. That is all. Well, it is a new song from none other than that Book-of-Mormon-destroying, Alice Cooper-imitating, Reverend wannabe Marilyn Manson. Has this guy/girl started his/her own church? Does he/she believe that election as President Of the United States is his/her future? Will Yanni finally play live at the Apocalypse with the Four Horsemen of the WWF as backing musicians? When and if Marilyn Manson is indeed the anti-Christ superstar and he/she is elected President, these and other questions will be answered if and when the song is released as a single or if it appears on a new Marilyn Manson CD. Peace! —Bubbazebeel 

Ani Difranco
Dilate
Righteous Babe Records 

It’s folk music, Gianni, “so fuck you and your untouchable face / and fuck you for existing in the first place.” Now, now, now don’t get all upset, it’s a quoted lyric from the first song. Go back to your sports. Meanwhile I went back to the lyric sheet and found this; “warm wet thanks to everybody who made this atrocity possible…especially–” (I won’t copy the names). How about some more lyrics? Dilate is Ani Difranco’s eighth album and finally she is very close to becoming a “star,” while maintaining her complete and total DIY ethic. The record label is her own. “It’s gonna be sudden / it’s gonna be strange / I’m gonna turn on a dime / and give you five cents change / it’s gonna be long overdue / it’s all gonna come outta me, onto you… yeah one of these days / it’s gonna reach the top / then it’s gonna start to spill / and it’s not gonna stop.” My God! According to her publicist, Ani isn’t doing any interviews at present. She’s too smart to let people like me near her. So Ani, what does the title of your new CD concern? “I see you and I dilate.” How about that song “Otta Me, Onto You”? There are singer/songwriters (Peter Breinholt anyone?) and then there is Ani Defranco. Punk-folk, trance-folk, hip-hop/trip-hop-folk or whatever, this woman is scary. Scary because of her talent, scary because of her way with words, scary because her lyrics are so open, not to mention confrontational. Make no mistake, Ani Difranco is without question one of the greatest talents currently making records. This woman astounds me and has me on my knees worshipping a graven image of her last publicity photo, the one with her hair in a top-knot. 

The one cover song is worth the price alone. Thousands, if not millions, have done “Amazing Grace.” None touch Ani’s version. Dilate your pockets and remove some cash. I’ll bet most of you haven’t heard anything so in your face in your entire pathetic lives. Yes, the whole album concerns love and how it doesn’t work. 

Call it advance, advance notice, but if I waited until next month the show would be sold out. Ani Difranco will appear for the third time in Salt Lake City at the Skyline High School Auditorium on October 22. Tickets are $15 in advance. There isn’t a need to list the “at the door” price. Tickets are available only at A Woman’s Place Bookstore, Raspberry Records and Salt City CDs. —Burr Ivers 

Loudspeaker
Re-vertable
Another Planet Records 

Not another punk rock record in SLUG. I was reading Billboard the other day and I found a story about profile dumping all “rock” acts from their roster. How will Magnapop finance their cocaine habits? It hasn’t happened yet. Another Planet sent another package with some advances to discuss in the next issue. At the present time, Loudspeaker is the topic of discussion. Guess what Loudspeaker, the rug was just pulled out from under your feet. Due to the talents of the vocalist, Matt Burruso, Loudspeaker enters the area inhabited by those in love with gasoline huffing. Let me give you some friendly words of advice, Matt. Sure, gasoline brings an interesting edge to your vocal abilities, an edge that kept me interested for the entire length of the disc, but what about the future? There isn’t a future? Come on man, that was back in ’84, get over it. 

Loudspeaker and their vocalist rip through eleven tunes in a most exciting hardcore manner. A little melodic guitar breaks in at times and some totally fucked up bass and drums only add to the fumes exiting Borrusso’s mouth. He is heavily involved in producing the electric guitar noise, because the band is a three-piece and he doubles on guitar. The guy has been well-schooled. He can throw down some twang or country blues influenced notes between his raw raps. Play those blues, brother, and tell us all about how things are all fucked up in your neck of the United States of America. We already know because we live in one of the most fucked up cities in existence. Could you stop the jamming? I want to beat up my “pit” partner right about now. The surprise for all the self-important “critics” around town is this. The kids are in basements and garages all over America. If bands such as Loudspeaker never enter into the Grammy/MTV platinum-selling category, they can at least live with the knowledge that someplace down the road a kid like Kurt will rise up and claim their influence on his music. “Yeah I saw Loudspeaker at the Fowl Friends building back in ’96. They are the reason I started to write songs and play guitar.” Ride-on! —SLUG Mag 

Jughead’s Revenge
Image Is Everything
Nitro Records 

The title says it all. The world is all messed up and we aren’t going to take it. Jughead’s Revenge takes on the fashion punks, major labels, a couple of senseless deaths, the environmental disaster, parents who just don’t understand and an accounting degree that earned a Hagen-Daz job at the mall. If they think things are bad now, just wait until Contract With America is fully implemented. Of course they mention sheep. The best example of sheep are people who buy Macarena, even worse are the thousands who rise as one to do the dance at any sporting event. A nation of sheep and as Jughead’s Revenge states, the sheep are present at every punk rock show. Another relevant topic is discussed in the song “Pain.” “Take a piece of concrete and stick it in my face / I like to play with razor blades, I hate the human race / I love to do the pogo / I love to do the slam / but it’s nothing like the feeling / like a knife stuck in my hand.” How many so-called punks of the Salt Lake City nation does that bring to mind? Too bad none of them listen to the lyrics. Oh sure, they can spit them out for every sing-a-long, they are more than happy to jump on the stage and shout out lyrics in order to impress all of their friends, but they don’t understand them. Read the lyrics in the little booklet and think about what they mean as you thrash about in your little pit. Don’t miss the Elvis tribute or the total surf and twang of the instrumental “Skag Up My Ass.” Image Is Everything is dedicated to Salt Lake City poseur punks. — “Auntie” Dave Macon 

Jon Spencer Blues Explosion
Now I Got Worry
Matador 

After that completely horrible album they did with the one and only R.L. Burnside, (I didn’t listen to it, I just read the review in a glossy magazine) the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion return with a new release. Don’t go down to the stores bothering the clerks as if you were a Rush (Limbaugh) fan, the album doesn’t come out until October 15. My copy is an advance kindly provided by one who shall remain nameless. His name is Alive, but he cannot be named is not a band much loved by Elvis, Hitler, or Splatter for that matter, but that is an entirely different tale and I don’t want to confuse Forgach again. David Geffin had a listen to Now I Got Worry and he called the Spencer household. “Jon,” he said, “You can forget that DGC contract right now. Let your girlfriend take over the creative side because you have certainly gone off the deep end.” Click.

Now, Mr. Spencer was heavily influenced by what he encountered in the Mississippi juke joints while palling around with Burnside, he went back and listened to some old Pussy Galore tapes or, maybe he became tired of “critics” citing him as a tamer influence on bands pushing the envelope slightly past the opening his most recent presented — the guy is right back where he belongs. Let’s imagine you love fast food, especially fried fast food. Ever had a peek inside that big black container of grease they have to the rear of the “restaurant?” Let me interrupt the proceedings to declare that R.L. Burnside is present on this recording. I can hear his voice and I don’t need a press kit or an actual copy of the disc to know that ol’ bluesman signed on for some session work. Hell, it might pay the electricity or phone bill. After listening to Now I got Worry I remembered some words of wisdom I read in another local rag. To paraphrase, “when they started playing punk on the radio it was time to discover what lies beneath.” The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion is tentatively booked to play in November at a local club. Based on my listening experience with their latest CD I’d say a ticket is a mandatory purchase. Maybe he’ll bring some of those old hill country juke joint guys with him as the openers. Sorry, not a chance. I forgot for a second where I lived. —Punk-assed bitch 

The Jerk Boys
3
Mercury Records 

I’ll admit it, some of 3 made me laugh. The ability to string motherfucking asshole, cocksucking bastard, shit-eating whore together in an original manner is admirable. Only 12-year-old males or adults without any brains could listen more than once. Pitch it to the Foxworthy/Peters crowd. —Bud 

Jackerlings 

This is an experiment. Local guitar wizard James Stewart is joined by N.R.C. It states inside the J-card that, “All compositions are improvised on the spot.” The Jackerlings are either improvisational genius or not telling the whole truth. I don’t have any doubt that James Stewart is one of the most talented guitarists currently living in Salt Lake City. I question whether he can improvise the interviews he includes on the spot. “A New Type Of System” opens with an accordion solo by Charlotte Stewart. The next note of interest is the pristine sound quality. After one tune an editorial is inserted. An executive from Dick Records gives his views on the current state of the record industry. He expresses my sentiments exactly. You’ll need to find a copy to hear it. Something about the record industry manipulating the public and sucking peoples brain’s dry with all the bad music. Bought a 99¢ cassette single lately? I’m not accustomed to Stewart rocking out as he does with “Rockers Don’t Die (Rockers live On).” He’s known for the guitar, but he is getting a hell of a lot better in the vocal department. You go James! How about the Casio and oscillator work from N.R.C.? Back to the interview. James is such a pleasant person, but he seems slightly angry with his commentary. Another song, “Come To God,” and he is completely into his rock star phase. This guy is supremely talented. You have to laugh, but he could sell-out and become a star anytime he wanted to, if only he wasn’t so crazed. Here comes another interview. James uses some naughty words during his interview of a sexually promiscuous male before launching into “Mighty Man.” Is there a statement here? Once again I’m running long. SLUG is about to fire me due to hate mail, long reviews, drunkenness and my complete inability to meet deadlines. Fuck, I’m probably already fired so you will never read this. Sorry James, I’ll pick out some highlights from the rest. The entire Jackerlings tape appears to be based around the concept of hawking a big yellow lunger in the face of the music industry. “Crooked” is cool. Clint Finnegan is diseased and the title song follows. Sarah Smithers opens side two, after the interview James gives a few thoughts on homophobia, before reprising “Come To God.” What exactly is going on in his mind? There are Christ references! James Stewart takes on virtually every genre of popular music you can imagine and pillories it on this Jackerlings tape. The tape has been pulled from most stores. It is obviously too offensive or creative for this market. Buy it if you can find it and watch for his new, soon-to-be released CD. —SLUG Mag 

Go Cart
Carbonated 

Go Cart is a local band. I read in the Private Eye that, “usually when the local media reports on a local band’s performance they pick it apart more than they would a national band.” They expect local bands to suck, and that’s what they write about for the most part. You just wait until I get my hands on a copy of Atomic Deluxe’s long-anticipated recording “Ms Jones.” Unlike a lot of local bands Go Cart aren’t in love with the Northwest, the South or the Midwest. Nope, these boys travel across the ocean to find their inspiration. Now I know people who do actually believe that all local music sucks and that the English can do no wrong. The next time I see them I’ll pass along a tape of Go Cart. I know it breaks the law, but I won’t mention the band is local. Call it an experiment. In case the lesson was missed, Go Cart includes keyboards imitating bagpipes in their third song, “Can’t Lead.” While the vocalist / bassist Kevin, or is it drummer / vocalist Dustin, adopts a singing style highly reminiscent of…no I won’t stoop to mentioning the name, he is at least singing. That automatically eliminates the band from local popularity because “gruff-boy” is the key around these parts. “Big Tops” has the guest keyboard man, Kelly Brown, providing a bit of a circus atmosphere and the singer goes completely off the deep end with his vocals. The best lyric is found in “Squash Beatle” checks in at around three minutes and the song has enough hooks to compete with any “alt rock” on the radio. Heck the vocals are almost “gruff-boy.” Due to the somewhat silly nature of some lyrics and the jaded attitude of others I will shamelessly drop a few names. Go Cart is Salt Lake City’s own version of Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers living in The Cure’s English manor.  —SLUG Mag 

Frank Tedesso
Songs From Einstein’s Violin
Imaginary Road 

I’ve been doing better at sneaking things past the censors lately. This is another attempt. Music is either good or bad to me, categories don’t matter. Frank Tedesso is the first attempt to have a release on William Ackerman’s new label. There they go, “SLUG is old and tired.” Fuck you, Helen. I’m old, but as you well know I am not by any stretch of the imagination tired. Just drunk. Anyway, Tedesso runs several serious risks. He risks being filed in the new age or jazz sections of the record store because of the label he records for. One listen to the disc would have the unaware filing it away in the “folk” section. Others would think singer/songwriter. I met Frank in-person. He is 43 and Songs From Einstein’s Violin is his first album. He said that he’d start writing songs when he was 17, but he never played them live until he was 30. He was somewhat evasive about his past and would only admit to passing out flyers on the street and as a janitor. He is reluctant to “press the flesh” – the business side of selling records. He would rather play his songs. He was only passing through Salt Lake City. I found him to be another of the “real” crowd. He isn’t seeking worship, he’s only trying to interest a few people in his songs. The album is guitar and voice. The usual pattern for “folk” singers is to gather some session men for the album and then tour solo. Tedesso recorded solo. His guitar work is understated and is barely present on the CD. What is presented are the words and the voice. Remember who signed him. The voice has an ambient quality to it. Vocal new age anyone? More cutting edge than Enya/Onya/Inya? I met Frank, I listened to his CD, four times by now, and I keep wondering about him. Is he like Daniel Johnson or Wesley Willis? Did someone pick this poet up from the street? Or is he one of the late bloomers, the baby boomers who can’t fit into the boardroom, the talent-unrecognized-geniuses residing undiscovered because personality, appearance and attitude bar them from life as a pretender? Read the lyric book as he recites. His finger is on the trigger, he could receive his 15 minutes of fame as a SWAT team attempts a peaceful resolution to the crisis, but I doubt it. Hope he comes to town to play and don’t miss him if he does. —SLUG Mag 

Fireside
Do Not Tailgate
American 

An “alternative” rock band from Sweden who has listened to plenty of Gang Of Four and Killing Joke. The band have some exemplary names – Frans Johansson, Per Nordmark, Kristofer Astrom and Pelle Gunnerfeldt. The second song is a demonstration in minimalist theory. The guitarist practices his scales over and over again as the vocalist recites the words and bass and drums chug along. As usual the tune climaxes with the expected noisy element. It wouldn’t be “alternative” rock if there wasn’t that final touch. The third song is a virtual cacophony of noise. “But I don’t think so” is included as a lyric and there is that guitarist continuing to practice in-between noise segments. By this point in the recording Fireside has captured my interest enough to turn the fucker way up. These are some clanging, banging, far-out, ride-on dudes. Like know what I’m sayin’, you know, like, they are, know what I’m sayin’ like rockin’ the farm house m-a-a-a-n. In a nutshell. Lieutenants in the hard and heavy “alternative” militia. One record and they are honorary members for life. —A Loyal grid Reader 

The Stella Brass
Simplicity In Motion
Flatline Records 

Oh, oh. I see Herc’s name. Herc has never involved himself with shit. The disc is a three song EP from the local band The Stella Brass. It fell into my hands accidentally so I had a listen or two. “Click” rumbles along quite pleasantly while reminding me of countless unsung bands from all over the world. What that means is; it doesn’t sound local. “Rut” is even better and the reason for the brass in the name is finally revealed. Pretty out there I’d say. For “Nucleus” the horn man comes back to earth. Spoken word over lounge backing and tasty horn blowing. With one song they enter the realm of Laundry. It is time to get up off my lazy ass and go see The Stella Brass the next time they play downtown. That is if they haven’t hit the road to make their fame and fortune among more musically discerning audiences. —SLUG Mag 

Spoon
Telephono
Matador 

Well, well, well. The second CD from Matador to appear in SLUG in two months. Have we suddenly lost our lowly status? Spoon played with the Archers Of Loaf at the Bar & Grill. The CD came into my possession the day after the show. Since the marathon session of music had left me without sleep and burnt out as hell I didn’t attend. Could you guys ease up on the live music in bunches? Dash Rip Rock, the Bluegrass Festival, the Jackmormons, Monster Mike Welch, the Misfits and Neurosis left me drained. Neurosis is the band to end all bands. But Spoon isn’t half bad. The band comes from Austin. Their country roots barely show. Little touches of twang enter the picture at wholly unexpected moments and there is an added element of surf/garage when the band reaches the instrumental track. Down at the grid they are probably all excited and thinking that Spoon is the next best thing to Los Straitjackets. better late than never I guess, welcome to the third surf revival grid. Believe it or not, the latest trend never went away. Also on board with Spoon’s new CD are the beloved college radio staples. Growlers to go in the vocals, a debt long overdue finally paid off to the Flaming Groovies and distortion, distortion distortion. Of course it’s raw and of course it’s noisy. Ooh I hate it, where are the production touches? —SLUG Mag 

Six Finger Satellite
Paranormalized
SUBPOP 

Six Finger Satellite is to die for. I saw a quote recently stating, you can’t be alternative anymore if you aren’t mainstream. All the record stores with an “alternative” section can please remove Six Finger Satellite. I can’t figure it out. I guess I’m stupid, or Utah educated, but if you have a magazine, a concert promoter, a radio station and a retail outlet all under the armpit of your smelly corporate empire don’t you think that if indeed, you played some of the bands you promote, you might make more money? Forget that noise and forget the noise Six Finger Satellite dishes out. Shaun Boy Walton is the only X-96 DJ I listen to. At least that poor bald-head motherfucker plays new music. And I respect that. Call him up and request “Coke and Mirrors.” The only reason I suggest that particular tune is because it is probably the only thing on the CD tame enough for typical local ears. I prefer “Last Transmission” myself. Something to do with the space element and the latest crop circles. Channeling has become an obsessive hobby. Listen to the beings Six Finger Satellite contacted. Okay, so it’s noise. It is exceptionally cool noise and they do it with abnormal artistic ideas. That is the reason most of the supposedly “hip” and “out-there” folks don’t worship them… Pick up a CD at your favorite moronic shop where they will sheer your wool coat come spring. That’s the next promotion. Sheep, have your “wool” sheared by those who have turned you into mindless wonders while your favorite local CD spins. —Denny’s Hemoglobin 

Sebadoh
Harmacy
SUBPOP 

After this record becomes a monster and the band hits the road, who do you think is going to book the show in Salt Lake City? United Concerts? The radio arm of the media controlling corporation is already playing a song during drive time. SPIN Magazine has already compared Lou Barlow to David Gates and Sebadoh to Bread? As if Bread would ever close a song with the crash that completes “Prince – 5.” “Ocean” is so Sebadoh that all the faith the first two highly produced songs brought into question is restored. “Nothing Like You” is sleepy and then… oh how about entering the world of Sebadoh. Bring the noise, please. Play “Crystal Gypsy” during drive time. Yes indeed we are finally there. I was scared for a few tracks, it sounded too polished, but the disc reveals all the expected sandpaper grit as it moves along. Bread? The charm of Sebadoh is their ability to lay down a ballad with words of the tear-jerking variety and then, on the very next song, they give up the most demented minute of noise that humans can tolerate. I don’t know, the last time I talked to Barlow he was in love. From the sound of this CD he still is, but as with all these type of things some “love” episodes are more violent than others. Don’t give him all the credit for these epics. Jason wrote half and Bob did one. I’m as biased as hell. Sebadoh could release a disc of Bayside Boys remixes and I’d be all over it. The recording was made in three weeks. Tell that to the other “big budget alternative bands” and while Harmacy is the most polished effort to date it is also the best in a formidable discography Sub Pop can’t even complete. I’ll be listening to this one off and on until they release the next one. —Lewd Barrow Pit 

Scenic
Acquatica
World Domination 

The first CD was licensed from Independent Project Records and it features label founder/former Savage Republic guitarist Bruce Licher. How do I know this? Not from reading the press kit that’s for sure. Mr. Licher has been releasing records for longer than must SLUG readers have been alive. He packages them using recycled materials and an antique letterpress. Each release is a limited edition work of art, not “product” for trend-conscious consumers. The man has won Grammys for his packaging! World Domination sent a letter explaining their new policy of sending “review” copies in recycled cardboard jackets. The first two I received brought thoughts of Independent Project to mind anyway, the letter and a copy of the Scenic CD only proved the theory. Acquatica is the second scenic project. While I haven’t heard their first release, the current album continues expanding themes developed during the Savage Republic days. Drone guitars, middle eastern influences, exotic instruments: trance music for curious minds. The music is difficult and experimental; it is not the mindless noodleling of an ET host. Thus the album won’t sell a gazillion copies to lonely middle-aged women or white trash in search of relaxation. Some guru will discover it five years from now. Seminars will follow and those attempting to stop the aging process will come to believe that music inspired by the desert is the ticket. The album will be long out-of-print. Why not jump on the trend now? Desert winds, autoharp, wood flute, bouzouki and guitar drone grow hair without the gray on the head, remove wrinkles, female mustaches and cure male gorilla back. —Dumb, Drunk, Punk, Fuck 

Jeffrey Clark
Sheer Golden Hooks
Independent Project Records 

Jeffrey Clark’s disc receives the full Licher treatment. The packaging is identical to World Domination’s except the cardboard was run through the hand-letterpress. In case you don’t understand please pay a visit to Raunch and ask to see some Independent Project Recordings. This particular CD is limited to 2,000 copies. Why? Well how would you like to do 2,000 copies by hand? Also included in information on Independent Project’s current releases. Jeffrey Clark was formerly the lead singer for Shiva Burlesque. The album is his first as a solo act and it covers the years 1991 through 1995. The early recordings show-case Clark’s breathy vocals – dreamy pop music sounding more British than Los Angeles street-life. The mid-period material is rougher, more American, but the topic remains the same. The dreamy aspects remain in place. He isn’t about to rock out in an attempt to get the audience on their feet. Clark has spent some time as either a junky or a homeless person judging from his lyrics. Or, it could be that he has a talent for recording the seamier aspects of life as a Los Angeles musician. Most bottom feeders only gain respect after death. Clark includes a quote from Phil Oches (an inspiration perhaps?) in his liner notes. The closing songs reveal Clark for what he is – a street poet with a unique knack for capturing what his eyes see and putting the vision into words. —Dumb, Drunk, Punk, Fuck 

Red Aunts
Saltbox
Epitaph 

New Bomb Turks
Scared Straight
Epitaph 

It is now time to become rude, crude and obnoxious, as well as pen a few true words. If the truth hurts then why are you so phony? Frank Zappa wrote a song about this town. It was titled “Suzy Creamcheese” and from my experience time hasn’t changed the “plastic” people one bit. I called Mike Bazillo at Epitaph Records and requested copies of both these CDs along with a third. He put all three in a package, along with some extra things and mailed it off. I never received it. One of the CDs wound up in some aware hands. At least she’ll enjoy it. As for the others? Epitaph squandered some good promos. What a waste of college education. Go listen to Jughead’s Revenge for their analysis. New Bomb Turks used to record for Crypt. The very mention of Crypt should bring tears of joy to any self-respecting trash hound’s eyes, not to mention the ears. Now the New Bomb Turks have signed to Epitaph in an attempt to confuse everyone. Think of Sterno – a five-gallon can of it. Watch the singer drink it all before hitting the stage. Think of Seattle circa 1964. Think of girls suspended in cages high over the bar wearing only go-go boots, pasties and a g-string. The band on stage tears through one trash-punk tune after another at a speed surpassing the top end of a 1967 GTO. The girls shimmy and shake, the dance floor is filled with drunks gyrating while drinking from pint bottles of bourbon. Empty one and fling it at the band on stage. It comes back twice as fast and they launch into the next trashy anthem as a brawl breaks out among the dancers. I’d have to fight Helen for this one, if she still worked here. I’m sure she’ll get her own copy at her new magazine. No one else at her present employer will understand what is contained in the pits. Anyone thinking Epitaph is a pop-punk label need only listen to the Humpers, Gas Huffer, Total Chaos, Red Aunts and New Bomb Turks. Things at Epitaph run the gamut, don’t judge them by the bands making them profitable. Judge the general public’s taste in music. The Red Aunts began their careers on another of the more adventurous labels. Sympathy For The Record Industry stands straight up alongside Crypt. The Red Aunts also count the Flat Duo Jets among their favorite bands, thus bringing Norton Records into play. Saltbox is the Aunts’ fourth album and their second for Epitaph. If New Bomb Turks are too grating for the ears, it is best to skip Red Aunts. The follow-up to one of the greatest, most grating, abrasive, discs of female pop (#1 Chicken) is better than expected. I can see the present owner of my original copy listening in horror. Screeching trash-punk with all the charm of a back-alley cat fight. The blues/R&B roots shine through the formidable racket this four-piece band committed to tape. Of course a Hammond organ and Silvertone guitars are involved. So is Andy Kaulkin for one song. The closer is a straight blues complete with Silvertone lap steel played by Terri. You haven’t bought Saltbox yet? Better get down to Salt City, Raunch, Raspberry or The Heavy Metal Shop before they sell out. Check every store selling used CDs for the promotional copy I was originally supposed to receive. Baaaah, baaah, baah! Maaah, maaah, maaah! —Wilhelm daFoe 

Porky Cohen with Roomful Of Blues & Special Guests
Rhythm & Bones
Bullseye blues 

Porky Cohen’s first CD as a leader is an excellent example of jump blues and big band swing. Cohen is elderly at the present time. This guy played with almost every big band there was. He spent some time with one of the best swing blues bands in the nation (Roomful Of Blues) and he was drawn out of retirement to record the CD. The cat plays the trombone and the CD is mostly instrumental. Roomful Of Blues is joined by Gordon Beadle and Marty Ballou from the Duke Robillard and along with the swinging, jazzy tunes they throw a Tex-Mex curve. Listen to KRCL and the Mountain’s Blue programs for a sample. If they don’t play it, call and request it. —Bernie 

Pet
Igloo Records / Tag Recordings 

How about a few words on the first band signed to Tori Amos’ new label? There really isn’t a need because they can probably push 100,000 units or more through on the basis of Amos’ approval alone. Amos is also listed as the executive producer. Up the figure to 200,000. The presence of a “little girl” voiced singer who can roar when the mood strikes doesn’t hurt. This woman can go from all whispery and breathy to a Kurt Cobain sound-a-like in the middle of a lyric. The sensual/rage-filled lyrics are backed by minimalism mutating into trademark noise, in other words Pet is yet another in a seemingly endless stream of “alternative” rock bands fronted by a talented female. Don’t start thinking of Alanis quite yet. There is an edge to the band that the Morrisset machine lacks. That growl can’t be good for the vocal chords. Listen hard for this band on the radio. Pet will be there, guaranteed. As for who is in the band or any other information I don’t have it. As usual the CD is an advance lacking a cover and the only info arriving with it was news of Tori Amos’ involvement and instructions to insert and press play. I did it and deemed it very good, most interesting and ear pleasing. Now can I have the full package with an 8 x 10 of the vocalist to hang on my wall, a bio and a CD with a cover? please. —Mrs. Blue

Nothingface

Nothingface is a DC area band with a sound guaranteed to frighten dogs and small children. The bio says, “By the start of ‘96 Nothingface had become the most recognized band in the DC / Baltimore area.” How about “The Show” “A new generation of DC music revitalizing the scene once dominated by hardcore legends Fugazi, Scream and Black Flag.” Black Flag? The album is called Pacifier and it will be released on September 13th. September 13th? Well it is indeed a Friday and this band would like their music in the hands of all who celebrate Friday the 13th. The four-song advance has “Lipsdick,” “Undercut,” “Pacifier” and “One Thing.” The single is the title song and it should thrill all and sundry around this town. Sore throat rapping backed by the customary hard, rhythmic noise. The publicity photo shows four young men without a smile among them. Guess what? “Things” aren’t pleasant. “One Thing” more. “You’re all gonna die, aaaaaaar!” Nothingface will pay a visit to Spanky’s on September 25 and the very next night they will be at the Bar & Grill. Nine Spine Stickleback will open. There’s the information. Now go make a big mess of yourself and all of your friends. —SLUG Mag

---

IF WE DIDN’T REVIEW YOUR RECORD… it may be cuz we are a little behind. We will try to catch up next month…

Thanks, man.

Read more CD reviews from the SLUG Archives:
Record Reviews: July 1996
Record Reviews: June 1996

If you’re here in the archives, we can tell you care about the underground, ’cause you’re so far underground, you’re in a whole different decade of underground. Consider becoming one of our donors!