Record Reviews
Archived
Black Tape For A Blue Girl
Remnants Of A Deeper Purity
Projekt Records
Full of lush ambient soundscapes, this record is a throwback to the early 4AD days. Although the music is reminiscent of This Mortal Coil, it’s not a rip-off of it. The strong vocals and full strings add texture and depth to this new shot at goth. The band, from what I understand, does not play out. So check out the disc if you’re into moody, dark music. —Sausage King
The Technical Jed
The Oswald Cup
Spinart Records
Hey, I know these guys. We used to go to parties together. At the time, they fell into the nice-guys-but-their-music-sucks category. However, it sounds as though they have done some revamping of their sound. They’ve added a bit o’ edge to the work. Less poppy than I remember. This band comes from Richmond, which I now remember to be one of the most active places for music in the country. The problem with Richmond bands has always been that they know how good they are and they keep it to themselves. I’m glad to see Spinart is still supporting the music from there. If you want good contrast for what the Technical Jed used to sound like, scrounge the record stores for their last release. If you want to know what they sound like now, take one part pop sensibilities, one part marketable sounds and one part abrasive cleaner and throw it together. —Sausage King
Descendents
Everything Sucks
Epitaph
They’re back. The boys who put the humor into punk. After some extensive time out for Milo to get his doctorate (what did you expect from an Epitaph band) and the guys from All to realize they were just doing Descendents songs. Isn’t a revival just a passe cliche now that the Sex Pistols have done it? No. There is no be-all statement definitive of punk. If you know the Descendents, you know what to expect. If you don’t, then get Liveage or something earlier first. You’ll love the band from then on. I’d bet my SLUG paycheck on it. —Sausage King
Fetal Remains
Fetal Remains
Ominous Records
What the fuck kind of name is this? I thought. So I took it home just to see what the whole flippin’ mess was about. Well, it’s about good ol’ punk rock. The good stuff: fast, rude and offensive. There is definitely some sort of drunken debauchery going on with these guys. Very reminiscent of eighties punk Circle Jerks, Dayglo Abortions, Gang Green. If you’re gonna buy the Descendents, purchase this on the same day. If you can’t find the record in your local store, well that shows you how much they support indie music, don’t it? Write these guys at Ominous Records. Give these guys a chance. They’ll grow on you or outta ya. —Sausage King
Lycia
Cold
Projekt Records
Sounds like Bauhaus with Joy Division movement. The guitar work reminded me of The Cure during pornography slow churning. The group is very dark, late-night music. This is a record for those kids who hang out at cafes thinking they’re freaking vampires living in the eighteen hundreds with 1990 drugs. Oops, guess they are all loving the life marked by X, you crazy, Mormon straight-edgers. For something in the same vein but a little more scary, try Casper van Brotsman. That guy will fucking trip you out and send you running home to momma, where of course I’ll be. Lycia is not bad, they just don’t give me a thing worth talking about. If you like the bands referenced early-on, check ‘em out by buying my copy. —Sausage King
Lickity Split
Volume Won
Double Duce / Torque Records
The problem with this band is that they sound like they’re from DC. But not the new DC, the old DC: political bands without a message. The original singer from Avail is in this band. All I got to say is big fuckin’ deal. Avail sucked before and they suck now. I remember Cedarcrest shows, you fucks. This band does have some things going for it: they’re not Avail, they don’t have that idiot dancing on stage for no fuckin reason and did I mention they are not Avail? It’s hardcore, and it’s not bad, it’s just been done like a two-dollar whore (over and over again). —Sausage King
Jimmy Thackery & The Drivers
Drive To Survive
Blind Pig
Loyal Dead Goat Saloon patrons count Jimmy Thackery among their favorite performers. He’s burned up the stage of that club so many times in the past that it’s a surprise the wood isn’t charcoal by now. For those unfamiliar with Thackery, he is one of those in serious contention for best rockin’ blues guitarist on the planet Earth. A lot of them try, but few succeed. Jimmy Thackery is one who can masturbate his guitar until everyone in the audience has had multiple orgasms and he’s still up there trying to cum. I do believe he addresses the topic with “Slow Down Baby.”
That slow, loving, guitar masturbation business is part of the attraction of seeing him live. On CD, he’s in more of a cerebral mood. Sure, he tosses in enough licks to blow away those with a technical interest, but he also keeps the deep groove going for the rest interested in pure blues. Have a listen to “That’s How I Feel” for a perfect example of the Thackery experience. Mark Stutso does the soulful vocals, Michael Patrick plays an understated bass and Thackery is over in the corner just wailing away. There are truckloads of these white boys out there right now trying to emulate Steve Rat and Eric while at the same time paying tribute to the King and attempting to best Jimi at his own game.
Some wear skirts on stage, and some adopt the hat and tattoos of the dead, but few of them can catch Thackery. He is beyond the “influenced-by-stage,” he’s become an influence in his own right. If he’d only die a violent death, cover a reggae song or pen a “Lay Down Sally,” he’d become an object of worship, an icon for those trapped in a drive-time traffic jam. As it stands currently, he’s a welcome addition to the home CD collection and a reason to hit the club on a Monday night. The reason to buy the CD is not the “Apache” cover.
Come on, Thackery, I have more inspired versions of that chestnut played by 15-year-olds in a garage. But don’t miss him cackling over the thought of “selling the bitch’s car to buy a cool guitar.” Is it an answer song to Tammy Wynette’s “D-I-V-O-R-C-E”? The best song on the disc is not a cover, but it is an instrumental. Forget the vocals and fuck all night to “Burford’s Bop” set to repeat over and over and over and oooooh, “Rub On Up.” —SLUG Staff
Utah Phillips and Ani Defranco
The Past Didn’t Go Anywhere
Righteous Babe Records
Meanwhile, there is this new CD from Utah Phillips. Utah Phillips provides the words, and Ani Defranco did the music. How about a hip-hop album from an avowed supporter of the worker? Which of the hippies will understand Utah Phillips rapping about Judge Ritter and anarchy as the trip hop rides on? Strange as it may seem, Utah Phillips expresses my political beliefs exactly when the beat reaches “Candidacy.”
Republicans? He compares talking to a republican to talking to a refrigerator. Democrates? Discourse with a democrat is like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. There you go. All SLUG readers probably voted for Tweedle Dee or Tweedle Dum on the Tuesday before publication. What that means is you are all stupid.
In the flush of excitement surrounding the concert, I have little doubt that many, many hippies, teenage girls and lesbians left Skyline High School with a copy of The Past Didn’t Go Anywhere. I pray that they all listen to the disc and incorporate Utah Phillips philosophy into their everyday actions. I’m guessing that the lesbians are the only ones who will actually understand. The new hippies are mostly the spoiled offspring of the first wave. They are exact copies of parents who only pretended to believe until it was time to sell out to the man.
When the day comes, they too will wash their bodies, cut off their dreadlocks, store the drums and don a suit. A very few of the teenage girls will understand that Utah Phillips is their brother. They are the hope. The lesbians already know what it’s all about. After all, they have lived with oppression their entire lives and Utah Phillips’ words are not a revelation.
Anarchy is not a circle and symbol for graffiti artists. Hippie is not a fashion. Utah Phillips is an American treasure, taking his name from the state that killed Joe Hill and Ani Defranco doesn’t just give lip service to Joe Hill (see Rage Against The Machine), she releases the philosophy without any help from the “man” on compact disc. –SLUG Staff
Joe Christmas
North to the Future
Tooth & Nail
Lou Barlow meets Neil Young at the Atlanta Summer Olympics. One sentence can almost describe Joe Christmas and their second CD. Drone pop with lyrics of a cynical nature. There are ringing guitars that aren’t quite lo-fi because Bob Weston (Shellac) produced it. For some strange reason, Tooth & Nail has pasted the label “rock and roll group” on Joe Christmas. Rock and roll isn’t sleepy, slow-motion licks with Zachary Gresham’s nasal whine at the front. Does it suck? No, not really. North to the Future is actually quite pretty during the short periods of wakefulness between melancholy-induced episodes of sleep. –SLUG Staff
Thumbnail
Cargo / Headhunter
File 13
Once again by the grace of God the Father and the Holy Ghost, a disc of astounding abrasive quality has found its way to the correct modular-designed, black plastic home unit. The Thumbnail “product” in question is a reissue of a 1995 File Thirteen Record Company release. It appears that at the time of the recording, Thumbnail was a three-piece. At present, they are four and based on the noise of current concern, their forthcoming new release is eagerly anticipated.
What is it about the coarsest grade of sandpaper and gasoline swilling that is so attractive when the ruined voice encounters a microphone? Why do re-tuned guitars hold such an attraction? Why does a drummer completely lacking any technically proficient characteristics cause the blood to pump? These and other questions can be answered by one listen to Thumbnail. The customary Knoxville, Tennessee influences are all in place. Blues, gospel, and rock ‘n’ roll are stated. A certain lack of musical ability is creatively presented as swing in a blast furnace of fire and brimstone. Be not afraid. Search them out and cover your ears, because this is the new world. The decade is on the wane, the Millennium is upon us. Decades on the wane historically produced musical change. The Millennium factor means that the change currently underway will upset many an apple cart. Pick one off the street and as Fred Wicks would say, “enjoy.” –SLUG Staff
The Dummies
Get Hip
Get Hip Recordings
The band lives in New York City. They have songs titled “Get Outta My Way,” “Don’t Give A Damn,” “Play Loud” and “I’m Coming For You.” This one should be easy, except for one thing. Why are The Dummies selling “World Class Wrestling” T-shirts? Something’s wrong with the microphone, and the chainsaw/motocross bike/two-cycle engine doesn’t help the three-chord rock of “Get Outta My Way.” Hey dummy, why don’t you fix the microphone and slow down so I can understand what the fuck you are singing about. Jesus Christ, you sound like a fucking garage band or some damn thing.
The Dummies are indeed a garage punk band. In case anyone hasn’t read this rag lately, there are thousands of garage punk bands around at present. Indie labels are snapping them up in a feeding frenzy that can only be compared to the major label reaction to “alternative” rock. I could say that the Dummies owe an obvious debt to the Ramones, but they don’t. Sgt. 6 is the vocalist who sounds like he’s wrapped a roll of toilet paper around his microphone; either that, or he’s using a megaphone live in the studio. There is that one take feel. Somehow, I doubt that the budget allowed for any production. The guy is singing through the megaphone, he has an extremely bad attitude, he’s drunk and unruly and he wants you the fuck out of his way. The rest of the band bangs away on tin cans and broomsticks strung to imitate guitars. The bass has to be an over-turned washtub. A most charming, albeit dizzying (due to the 90 mph playing) affair, these Dummies. –SLUG Staff
Various Artists
Fender 50th Anniversary Guitar Legends
Pointblank
The subheading, “Featuring Classic Performances By…” tells the tale. Fender’s 50th Anniversary is filled with classic rock staples that could easily be taped in an hour or two of classic rock radio listening. “Sultans Of Swing,” “Let It Rain,” “Something To Talk About,” “Smoke On The Water,” and artists such as Hendrix, Dire Straits, Deep Purple, Eric Clapton, Bonnie Raitt and saddest of all, the Vaughan Brothers, have all been played to death. Admittedly, Nirvana has yet to reach classic rock status and no classic rock station is going to play Dick Dale’s version of “Miserlou,” but the whole album comes off sounding tired. Even Buddy Guy, Albert Collins and Kenny Wayne Sheppard appear so frequently one step away from classic rock that their songs are as tired as the rest. What’s left? Jeff Beck with Terry Bozzio and Tony Hymas – the song is “Where Were You.” One song out of 17 is psychedelic as hell and far too short. Oh yeah, if you buy it now, you get a free guitar pick. –SLUG Staff
Rob Crow
Lactose Adept
Cargo / Earth Music
I’ll be damned, here is Sheryl Crow’s brother Rob imitating Beck while gazing out Johnny Polonski’s window. Shame on you, Rob. Rob Crow’s other band, Heavy Vegetable, didn’t work out. I guess no one got it. Poor Rob. He isn’t one to sit idle when there is music in his head. He has a new band and some other side projects going on, but Lactose Adept is his rock star solo album. Once they’re famous, they all make one. The album is really cute and it is filled with acoustic guitar, found sounds and silly tunes about nothing, or maybe the songs are Rob’s Dear Diary of his life as he wanders about being a professional musician. There are 29 songs and more than anything, the song titles remind me of the local tape band Exploding French. Have faith, Chris, this guy has a record label closely aligned with the large multinational releasing his home taping. “Da Da Du Dum,” “People Suck,” “3 Little Kittens” and “Totally Fucked” are a few song titles. Sorry, but there aren’t any coffee songs or potty songs. There are blues – “Couch Fort Blues” and “Cockroach Blues.” Toy instruments are kept to a minimum, and I have no fucking idea who will buy Lactose Adept. Self-indulgent? —SLUG Staff
Godspine / Bitter 13
The thank you list is almost more interesting than the music. The likes of the Decomposers, Brad Collins and Brad Barker appear along with Scott Birt, thanking rocking mad red for teaching him to play Slayer songs and the really cool punk rock stars who made fun of him. CDs are supposed to be louder than records. Turn the volume knob way up because for some reason, the output of Bitter 13 is close to vinyl. Godspine is from Ogden, and the CD is not brand new. It can never capture the intensity of Godspine live. That is my purpose for writing a few words on the band. This is your basic everyday thrash metal group. Why else would the really cool punk rock stars make fun of them? Bitter 13 is a thrash metal CD that, due to its lowly local status, comes off slightly below some of the nationally released music. It has more to do with money than talent. Godspine absolutely rages on stage. They are the equal of any famous millionaire national group. Even if thrash metal is not of much interest, go see them play. Laugh all you want, but admit it: Godspine rocks your ass. How about that “Backstab” tune, and what about nominating “Wider” as the best local Nirvana tribute? —SLUG Staff
