National CD Reviews: February 1997

Sam Phillips
Omnipop (It’s Only A Flesh Wound Lambchop)
Virgin Records 

Never heard of this band – or perhaps it’s a collaboration – Sam Phillips and Omnipop? Oh well, it gives me a chance to approach this band with a clean slate, or one that is as clean as it can be. Maybe they should put nothing on the CD covers, just the name of the band and the CD, because I did look at the cover and I’ll acknowledge the fact that I know nothing about this band (and I don’t know if there are any hardcore Omnipop fans around). Here are my impressions. While listening I imagined walking into a casino lounge – shag carpets and velvet walls surround a little stage with a runway. This band is playing. The female is singing slightly drunk with a cigarette in her hand. The musicians haven’t shaved in a while and have rented tuxedo’s that haven’t been returned. Then the song “Zero Zero Zero!” pops on and I’m whisked away to a corny musical set in paradise – the bongo drums, the horn section and the guitar of Elvis sways like the coconut trees. I’m not sure if that was a compliment, but if you ever want to be whisked from a dreary lounge to a tropical paradise where everyone knows the words to the song, only to be dragged right back again, you’ve found the band. —Mad Reverend 

Kip Winger
This Conversation Seems Like A Dream
Domo 

It’s not funny, Gianni. The evil SLUG boss – in an attempt to further infuriate Christian Arial – passed me a copy of Kip Winger’s new release. If this is the best Domo has to offer then I say welcome to the world of riches because the fools will buy any trash. Gianni passed the Winger deal my way fully expecting me to further the aims of the disempowered whose schooling was a failure. He hoped that I would attach my real name to the writing so the crazed (Monster Crew Straight Edge, Josh Rudy) could seek me out and punish me for honesty. After wiping the still wet puke from the CD it entered my changer and actually played! Gianni got the CD from Patrick Lugo at Domo Records Inc. Patrick kicks ass, thanks for the free Kip Winger CD. 

Fuck that noise. Patrick gives up the information that Kip Winger was influenced by Bowie, Dolby, The Beatles, Gabriel and Sting. Was that before or after he played bass with Alice Cooper and fronted the poodle-headed Winger? She’s 17 and what? 18 and life to go? Where’s the cherry pie? Have I confused Winger with Poison and Warrant? Bomb the fucking radio station. Kip Winger has become tribal and groove oriented all of a sudden. I guess the 17-year­ old grew up and that is really, really nice except I haven’t enjoyed anything Dolby, Gabriel or Sting have done in the last 15 years (Bowie is the exception), the Beatles never did anything remarkable after introducing and if Kip Winger believes putting out a pseudo ’80s album is the ticket to regaining his fame: leave it to U2. Winger was always about bombast and This Conversation Seems Like A Dream has all the bombast, except a slight amount of ’80s dance pop is included. An overindulgent guitar solo remains overindulgent whether it is backed by a string quartet or a pop metal band. Nice try Kip, but you can have the ’80s, they’re finished and so are you. —Ronnie James Gallagher 

Luscious Jackson
Fever In Fever Out
Capitol Records 

This all girl band (although the drummer looks rather butch) named after a ’70s basketball star comes to rest in a phase of raw melody between the voices and a beatbox. The voices, usually three of them as far as I can tell, intermingle lyrics in a low tone that, first off, don’t make much sense and then you find yourself not even caring. The songs wander by and none variates from any other song on the disc. “Naked Eye” is the only one that could be construed as upbeat – In other words this song opens the CD in a strong fashion comparatively. The change to a slower somber beat is a good transition in “Don’t Look Back,” but when the remaining 13 songs follow suit you are left bored and ultimately wanting more of the upbeat stylings that weren’t that good to begin with. These grrrls were at some point called the female Beastie Boys. One look at Jackson’s drummer and beastly comes to mind, but nothing about Jackson’s lame rhyming lyrics could come even close to The Boys. For example, how many bands have come up with this mood swing: “you bring me up, you bring me down, I can’t let you in” — mind you this goes on for three minutes. Have I mentioned how ugly their drummer is? —Mad Reverend 

CAKE
Fashion Nugget
Capricorn Records 

Once you get past the different voice that is, if anything, a little annoying, you’ll be surprised by this CD. John McRea‘s voice is a little annoying as he is talking in suspension. He never really sings himself and on some choruses you’ll know why. The content is what is on display. The songs aren’t melodic as they are more keeping beat to the lyrics. There are exceptions when the band goes full blown country musically and lyrically on “Stickshifts and Safetybelts.” They originally point out that large fuzzy dice still hang proudly like testicles from rearview mirrors on Race Car Ya-Ya’s. The band moves with style around in musical fits, If you’ve heard any of their songs I can promise they are not typical of what CAKE performs because it is so varied. They are not the most promising group on any scene and the music gets a little tiring after several different listenings. The point is that they aren’t the same stuff repeated and they are fun to listen to in doses. —Mad Reverend 

Cravin’ Melon
Red Clay Harvest
Mercury 

Cravin’ Melon? Is this a joke? The CD comes out sometime in ’97, it could be out by the time this is published. Don’t bother looking for it because it’s more of the same old shit — another hippie band from the Southeastern portion of the United States. The advance copy contains these words on the rear: “They have a fresh, honest sound that shows respect for their regional heritage, featuring feel-good grooves and tight vocal harmonies.” What a load of crap. They sold 20,000 copies of their independently released debut. The text ends with this tidbit: “the band tours constantly, playing over 200 dates last year.” Talk about rote writing, talk about rote music, I’ll bet Cravin’ Melon are really jammin’ when they play live. I’ll bet they’ve played for a whole bunch of college boys. I’ll bet they are best friends with Darius. I’ll bet they don’t even suck, they’re just boring. Yawn. —Wynona Writer 

Humpers
Plastique Valentine
Epitaph 

The punk sounds of the Sex Pistols and NY Dolls in the late 70s had a distinct sound, even if it didn’t greatly reflect each other, really, in obvious style. Their similarity was that they played in one big and obvious way — ballsy and bleeding, full of antisocial attitude that screamed for public attention. The Humpers play from that same vein without the usual bullshit act that so damn many young punk acts are using these days. Sure, they play loud and very fast, but with a refreshing old school loose-and-loaded feel that incorporates a mean guitar lead that rips out some wailing sounds straight from the hip. Listening to the disc, the music sweeps you off your feet with its 100 mph speed that comes out of nowhere, but hits you right between the eyes. The only band that even remotely reminds me of them is the bluesy Thee Hypnotic, who play in the same fashion of true tour de force tunes, taking no prisoners and slamming every song home. The difference is that the Humpers are punk in every sense of the word – no holds barred. Singing from the hard side of the street and dirty back alleys, these boys aren’t out to show off tattoos or fat leg pants. No way, mister. Save the fashion statements for Berkeley, poser! Pushing good old R&R with an angry front, the music is true to the fan and doesn’t hold anything back at all. Forget singing along to catchy pop and a tasty chord, because that would be too easy these days. The Humpers are the real thing, so watch out, cause listening to this album you’ll soon realize they’re out for blood! —Billy Fish 

The Hooligans
Last Call
Skizmatic Records 

Every month when I come into SLUG HQ to pick up some new platters to review, I always find my bin chuck full of wonderful new samplings (courtesy of Gianni — thank you!) that always add to the beauty of writing for nothing more than free music. The best new taste this last month was easily The Hooligans’ Last Call. I dig rockabilly as much as the next novice to the scene without having the urge to grease my hair and ride a scooter, so this was a nice taste of the sounds coming out of San Diego the last few years, which I don’t get to hear that often. 

Evidently blowing the lid off a few music joints down south, it’s easy to understand as you play this record, which is jam packed with a kickass sound, reminding me of greats like Eddie Cochran, and even Mr. Buck Owens. The difference is that this band is even more well-rounded than just a normal rockabilly band, slipping in jazz and big band influences that create a HUGE sound! Frontman Gig Fortier is amazing, dropping throaty vocals that spread out like warm cream cheese while laying down a mondo hollowbody lead that really tears up the joint. By far one of the best rockabilly freshmen to hit the stage, Fortier is a damn monster on the six string! Backed up by equally cool standup bass and trapkit, The Hooligans are an easily accessible rockabilly/R&R band that needs to be heard soon before they explode nationwide. Do it now! —Billy Fish 

Chokebore
A Taste For Bitters
AmRep 

It is hard to sit down and write anything for SLUG at this point in time because no one reads it anymore and the magazine has become really shitty. I’ve written for SLUG ever since back in the day when there was an ad in every single issue suggesting: if you don’t like it, contribute. It seems that the only contribution the local community desires to make now is a critical letter in Dear Dickheads. Fuck you! 

Chokebore is one of those bands from indie land that alternates between soft and hard. It would appear that the band has discovered the human condition. The latest Chokebore creation comes across as the doomsday bells tolling. This event will occur in England on New Years Eve in 1999. Placing a pair of cheap reading glasses on my face to decipher the 4-point Helvetica used for the lyrics I discovered the following. “Popular Modern Themes” concerns fingers, creases, tongues and little drops of red: “The silence filled the creases and I turned away instead.” Maybe it was the smell? 

The conceptual theme of the creation is one of despair, poverty and loveless sexual experiences. In other words, life as a participant in a rock band few have ever heard of. The title tune pretty much says it all: “but you don’t care for me and I don’t care now for nobody. ” The climax is a long spoken word piece, in what could be German, titled the “The Rest Of Your Evening.” I guess the girl is telling the poor wretch to fuck off for about 30 minutes. Yes, the CD is quite excellent. It makes me happy that I gave away the advance copy of Silverchair I stole from an unfortunate person. —NWOTB

Phoenix Thunderstone
Ride of the Lawless
Scratchie Records 

If there is one thing that bands like Iggy & the Stooges, the Ramones, and Pussy Galore taught us was that talent can never replace energy and attitude. Phoenix Thunderstone is this same lesson that needs to be taught more often. 

Coming off like a rabid dog drunk on its master’s sour whiskey, P.T. rocks out with true and disturbing vengeance. Vocalist Sean Heskett screams with an ugly fever in the grand tradition of such blues greats as Leadbelly and Blind Lemon Jefferson. Backed up by the rude and raunchy guitar of Wendy Van Dusen (whose rare vocals on the record are silky smooth, strange enough!), the eerie sounds of deep backwoods love, pain, and angst roll out like spilt gin on a dirty tablecloth. Added are the evil harmonica shrieks of Lemon De George and the slapstick trapkit antics of Mike Huffman, who put the nails in the coffin of a rattling train bound for rock and roll hell. The whole album picked at my skull constantly until I bummed it off on a friend to watch him wince in the same painful (yet pleasurable!) fashion. 

This is a masochistic treat that will change the way you feel about bottom basement blues-roots music that rarely sees the light of day anymore. To put it simply; play it loud, play it hard, and for Chissakes let it kick out the jams, motherfuckers! —Billy Fish 

Sandman
Roll Out, Cowboy
Loner Records 

Whoa there, Nellie! What in the damn hell is all this noise? From the get go, all sorts of sounds bleed off this platter, mainly country/folk and hip-hop, making the mind race to quickly categorize it somehow (but to no avail, damnit!). Calling it cowboy rap, the end result can only be the far end where Beck and Ween left off when dipping into the truly experimental side of their wacked indie releases. Folky in the delivery, Sandman spews out a catchy narrative; singing about chili blues to monster trucks and 12-year-old girlfriends (white trash love finally has a political voice!) while running alongside a cool acoustic guitar and funky bebop beats. All sides of the spectrum are visited with the multi-talented trio of Sandman (voice/rap/guitar), Camo (his rap partner), and Carl Dexter (multi-instrumentalist) filling in all the missing pieces. First starting his musical experience in North Dakota then moving to Olympia to hang with the hipsters and riot grrls, all aspects of new and old music scenes and styles can be heard in his new age folk stew. I’ve played this over and over and new things keep popping up every damn time. I don’t know if I’ll ever get tired of this disc…will you? —Billy Fish

Bracket
‘E’ Is For Everything
Fat Wreck Chords 

It seems these days that any young band that has catchy lyrics followed by quick and heavy guitar riffing music gets thrown into the big melting pot of supposed punk music. Some may think this of Bracket, but I like to think differently. 

Influenced…well, yes…but the diversity and power of their pop sound makes them a tad more complex than another California punk band. The beauty of this underground band is that they display so much more than the usual three chord groups, kicking out some amazing sounds that truly put them in the class of true power noise pop. Each cut on the disc is a standout, creating a barrage of catchy and crunchy sounds that dig deep into the subconscious, making them hard to get out of the system without singing along with happy glee. The collection is a combination of all the great stuff released on 7 inches through Fat Wreck Chords (a lot out of print) and will make a Bracket fan out of anyone that digs real R&R with a quirky bite of pop added for the needed addictive fix. Forget the punk staple and think just solid, guitar-driven fun with all the pleasure and none of the guilt. Another album is due out this spring, so enjoy the goods until then! —Billy Fish

Bloodhound Gang
One Fierce Beer Coaster
Geffen 

Yeah, these are the guys you see on MTV and hear in heavy rotation on X-96. But please, don’t hold that against them – even though their fifteen minutes of fame might be ticking fast. In all honesty they actually are quite funny and talented too (Wow, did I say that?). A quick description… Let’s see… Hmm. Maybe a ’90s alternative-pop band heavily influenced by frat house punk and rap with a big slice of Comedy Central to bring it all home. Yeah, that sounds about right. Imagine Run–D.M.C. (which they cover here) breeding with NOFX and the birth control being supervised by Penn & Teller. You can only imagine what that love child would look like, but the sound of its musical attributes are right here: baby pop! The studio mix is pure Geffen-slick, but the lyrics are so rude and crude I couldn’t help but chuckle at times. These dips are pretty silly, despite sincere attempts to punk rock out. I would like to see the live show and get a final judgment call front and center. Meanwhile, I find the crossover market and MTV generation ready to begin the trendy feeding frenzy that could do worse on the choice of menu items. Keep an open mind and a funny bone ready for tickling and you may be surprised. —Billy Fish 

Jake Sampson
Three Shades of the Blues
Life Force Records 

No one knows Jake. At least not yet. He has, however, assembled a crew of heavy-hitting swingers to play on his debut for Life Force, a local San Francisco label. This is the guy you hear when you walk into that smoky Bohemian jazz club you’ve never been to. Cool tunes that groove in and out of the R&B twang, while hanging in the picket with a jazz feel – mean guitar and sax too. Get it if you can find it. If not, call Salt City and ask for Rick. —Maxx 

Read more record reviews from the 90s:
The Stiff Sheet: July 1995
Record Reviews: March 1996

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