Less Than 1000 Words About One of My Favorite Records…
The first time I’m aware of hearing The Clash was around 1983. Despite being only 9 years old, I was aware of punk thanks to that one Garfield comic strip where Jon’s Aunt is taking slam dancing classes instead of Jazzercise, the Silver Spoons episode where Ricky Schroeder dons lime green socks to woo “punk “girls, and that one Chipmunks episode where they sneak out of the house to go to the Punk Palace in a failed attempt to crossover to the world of face-spitting and violent thrashers. Being that I was only 9 years old I was enthralled. I remember my neighborhood frenemy, Dave Wetmore, making fun of me for claiming I was into punk rock when really I was just into the Chipmunk Punk LP and the Joan Jett video for “I Love Rocknroll.” Basically, this future Young Republican was calling me a poseur.
“Real punks are into the Clash—now that is a real punk band” spat the guy down the street who once invited me to his house so that we could play WWF and assigned me the role of jobber. “You want to hear them?” I mean duh--he was six months older than me so of course he knew what he was talking about. He put the VHS tape into the machine and the last strains of Air Supply’s video for “All Out of Love” blared through the 19” television speakers giving way to that weird squiggle from a VHS to VHS edit and suddenly I’m rolled halfway into “Rock the Casbah’s” distinctive piano and guitar riff giving way to images of armadillos, a Sheik in a Cadillac and the Clash dancing around in front of an oil rig sporting mohawks and berets.
“There’s no way this is punk—like how do you slam to this” I blurted in a moment of defiance at my persistent tormentor—he responded by smacking me in the face with a slice of pizza, we fought and then turned to more important things in the moment like comic books, how he was rewriting the lyrics to Michael Jackson’s “PYT” to be about this girl Tania he had a crush on & Alan Trammell—but that first exposure to and related disappointment with punk stuck in my brain.
In the coming years I’d buy Black Flag records, see a litany of crucial late 80s early 90s bands and yeah, I adapted to what punk was sonically but… something was always missing. Like where was the music that made people want to kill? Like where was the actual mind-melters that made people lose their shit, wanna take acid, grab a knife and just… well you get the idea…
I first heard this record in 1992—I was attending Ohio University and spending most of my time going to record stores and skipping Latin, because why was I taking Latin? Anyway, I was in Haffa’s Records and the man behind the counter noticed that I’d been buying punk records and thrust this red sleeved record with a bunch of hooded terrorists on the cover into my hand. I asked him to put it on and I was greeted with “THE ONLY GOOD HUMAN IS A DEAD HUMAN” followed immediately by the face melting, skull crushing sounds of “Practiced Hatred.”
This was it.
It only took nine years but this was what I was looking for all that time. It was as if nearly a decade of my bully driven self-loathing converted to a total fucking steamroller of bone crushing rage and came pouring out the dust covered speakers of that basement store. It was relentless—even when it slowed down and got heavy, it was heavier than anything I’d heard before. Like how could you be more menacing and heavier than Black Sabbath?! It broke my brain—Crossed Out broke my brain. Like, why didn’t “Rock the Casbah” sound like this? In the face of this, how was anything I’d heard before remotely ‘hard’ core? Or punk? Or worth my time? Can you imagine if Crossed Out had been on Silver Spoons? Or if the music playing on the punk’s boombox in Star Trek IV had been “Scapegoat”? CAN YOU IMAGINE?!
Then he flipped the record and I couldn’t even understand what was going on—is this free jazz?! Is this chaos?! Is this music played by monsters for actual monsters!? WHO IS THOMAS LENZ AND WHY ARE WE SHOVING A SCREWDRIVER IN HIS URETHRA?! The Man Is the Bastard side is just this complicated frantic noisy cacophony that collapses in on itself in the most beautiful way as the Wood and Kenyon’s dual bass attack lurches into “Walkers of the Street,” the almost desperate technical instrumentation giving way to what I imagine Godzilla was listening to as he ravaged Tokyo. Heavy on the freak sauce, indeed.
In short, this record is so beyond important—on the one hand it introduced to the magical, mystical world of power violence. At a time in hardcore when people were comparing mosh metal bands to Minor Threat and other bands were using pan flutes on their records, the importance of bands playing fast, raw and uncompromisingly harsh music cannot be understated. On the other, as bonkers as it sounds, this is the level of intensity that I thought would always be manifested in punk—and it is so extreme that, at times, it makes you wonder what could possibly be next?
Anyway… now for this week’s noise:
Possibly Incoherent Ramblings About A Slew Of Recent Hardcore Punk Releases…
A quick note about reviews - I basically only write about things I like, if I don’t write about it, I either didn’t like it or haven’t heard it yet. If you send me something to review, I’ll probably write about it though keep in mind, I’m just one person doing all this so it might take a minute.
Snotty, slouching mid tempo punk from Saskatoon - it saunters along that same sorta inebriated, stomping strut to be found in Clevo ragers like CIDER or UPSTAB. It’s just three tracks but you know, less is sometimes more and I definitely want more.
DRY SOCKET - Sorry For Your Loss LP
This is definitely more metallic and stompy than I was I was expecting - there’s a lot going on here which reminds me of the sorta discordant, angular and harsh hardcore that got cranked out in the late 90s. Monstrous riffs, chaotic bursts of speed and angst soaked lyrics that are both personal and relatable .
Ripping hardcore from Mexico City - metronomic drumming backing up CHAOS UK style riffing supporting the reverb soaked, ranted vocals of singer Alexa. This rules.
Burly, quick paced jams in the VOORHEES meets HERESY line of thought - early 80s East Coast USHC with a modern flair. The recording is raw which enhances the vibes, of course
MOOM - Plague Infested Urban Dump Of The Future LP
Blazing power violence styles from Israel - fever inducing speed alternating with sloth like breakdowns, metallic guitars, and caustic vocals splattered over the whole cacophony.
Crushing heavy hardcore with thrashing interludes alternating with mid tempo thuds and interesting counter melodies adding to the tension. There’s a bit here that reminds me of the early years of CEREMONY and the misanthropy of HOAX. Really cool and interesting release.
NORMAL WEIRDS - Same Difference
Moody, dark wave punk from NorCal - its got a tinge of RUDIMENTARY PENI and early CHRISTIAN DEATH musically, but with more discernable, angst soaked vocals. It’s droning and receptive at times but, in a purposeful way a la FLIPPER.
PREVENTION - Split The World EP
Tight, modern, metallic hardcore stomp - occasional bursts of speed that feel like they are mostly to accentuate the mosh inducing chugs.
ROTTING HAMMER - Days And Nights Of Endless Butchery CS
Metallic punk with what sounds like a snarling bridge troll singing for them - shredding riffs which dwell in the same creepy basement as those early DEVIL MASTER releases. Their cover over INEPSY’s “Who’s Next?” feels off kilter in a good way.
This is fucking great - pogo inducing hardcore punk from Cleveland that continues the tradition of that city cranking out total rippers. It’s got hints of UK82 punk, occasionally flirting with metallic crunch and cool melodies while maintaining this relentless 1-2-1-2 pummel.
Lo-Fi trashy and thrashy hardcore punk from British Columbia - inept, sloppy and rushed in this way that adds a sense of fun urgency to the affair. Like they broke into a recording studio and really needed to get these songs recorded and mixed in under an hour.
SHORT DAYS - Direction Nowhere LP
Punchy melodic punk that reminds me of the early OBSERVERS/RED DONS stuff. Quick and tight in its delivery with a certain degree of melancholy to it - moody and dark in the same manner as some of those early Rikk Agnew riffs (DI, ADOLESCENTS, etc) could be. I really like this LP, total winner of the week for me.
TWO STAR REVIEW - Never coming back again...
Dutch punk that takes a lot cues from Minx-era LEATHERFACE and shares some of the same sonic qualites of early 00s German punk bands like OMA HANS and TURBOSTAAT - but what does all that mean!? Big guitars riffs reflecting an aura of pensive sadness and melancholy. Its slow in pace but powerful.
ÜLTRA - P.R.O.T.O.T.Y.P.E
Thumpa-thumpa, noise soaked punk from the biggest little city in the West (aka Reno). Driven hard by basslines that sound like a chainsaw, this tasty little ripper wails and rants like a pack of wolves soaked in reverb. Really cool shit.
This is really fucking cool - think a bit more punk take on the angularity of what bands like RONDOS or the early of THE EX were doing. Noisy and punchy post-punk with a steady driving approach and ranting vocal style. I feel like if that had come out on Rough Trade in 1978 this would be considered a classic of UK punk.
Well this is exciting - if you managed to catch Stockholm’s VIDRO last year on tour you know how good they are. Taking an aggressive yet danceable approach to Swedish punk. It has this sort of staccato pogo approach with swirling guitars and bass while their drummer helps to drive the point home, providing a stable foundation for vocalist to rant in this almost rhythmic style themselves. Truly great and compelling stuff - outstanding!
Solo project of one Lindsay Corstophine which takes a caustic, mid-paced, raw tumble through and four tracks of pummeling hardcore. Straightforward, go for the throat approach that is brutally effect. Stellar.
WAR AND RUMOR - Unwavering Hostility CS
Six blasts of simple yet effective hardcore that has moments where it leans into the same lane as discordant snarl of bands like RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE - you know, a smidge of the sorta moody, spooky slither of late 80s/early 90s Oakland bands with the violent and venomous vocal spit of that dude from the ACCÜSED.