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· 1:#331 with Mike Faloon and Todd Taylor
· 2:One Punk’s Guide to Poetry
· 3:#332 with Kurt Morris
· 4:Top 5s from Issue #81
· 5:Marilyn Thunderhorse Interview


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Razorcake #82
Hurula, Vi ar manniskorna vara foraldrar varnade oss for LP
Razorcake #81
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Nights and Days in a Dark Carnival by Craven Rock


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No Idea Records

Record Reviews

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Below are some recently posted reviews.

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MOTHER’S ANGER, THE:
Self-titled: CD
Funny what a decade can change. This sounds a lot like Bleach to Nevermind-era Nirvana (especially the voice), and it sounds good. Perhaps it has to do with it being a two-piece from Israel. Perhaps it has to do with grunge, over-saturating the airwaves, exploding like a Zeppelin filled with mustard gas, and becoming such a dirty word in a relatively short amount of time that most bands still won’t attempt it because it still has a touch of the plague. So, it feels like they’re doing it for the right reasons. Making good music. Mother’s Anger also has bits of the more roaming Mudhoney, the less experimental Kent 3, and a bunch of “you’re older, grow out of punk” music that I’d don’t know too much about but recognize from my more genteel friends who play it when I’m at their houses. For something I’m not predisposed to liking, this isn’t bad at all. It’s a good middle ground between punk and indie. –Todd Taylor (Dionysus)


MORNING 40 FEDERATION:
Self-titled: CD
I looked at the members list and winced when I saw all the brass instruments listed, thinking I was in for another dose of really bad ska. Thankfully, that was not the case. Instead, what is wafting through the air at me is more akin to what the Butthole Surfers might have sounded like had they been born and raised in New Orleans and listened to a lot of Tom Waits—funky, sludgy party music steeped in the blues and proto-jazz. Not for everyone, but it is a fun listen and I bet their live shows rip. –Jimmy Alvarado (M80)


MOB STEREO:
Self-titled: 7"
Minimalist, female fronted pop. Neither miserable nor stunning. –Jimmy Alvarado (Dollar Record)


MIKE BLANX AND THE SDABS:
Starting Them Off Young: CD
The remnants of Blanks 77 change their name and put out another record. They don’t sound as revved up as I remember them being, but their songs still mush into one another and turn into a nondescript blur just as easily. Not bad for what they are, I guess, I just never got off on blatant rehashes of third-tier punk bands that I tired of back in 1982. –Jimmy Alvarado (SOS)


MIDNITE SNAKE:
Self-titled: CD
Hey ma, bring me some more drugs! Seriously stoned instrumental fuzz with so many noodles... I was gonna say if you sold your first pressing of Vincebus Eruptum and spent all the money on ramen, cooked it all, and dumped it on yourself from the roof, it’d be like that, but then I looked on eBay and apparently you can barely get ten bucks for a mint one, so my analogy’s all shot to fuck. Anyway, eight songs, forty-six minutes, Pittsburgh, gong. –Cuss Baxter (Birdman)


MENTALLY ILL:
Gacy: CD
Late night L.A. radio show, some Saturday circa 1982. Through the mist comes this completely insane individual screaming “Don’t leave me here to DIE!/Don’t leave me here to DIIIEE!” over what sounds like some other nutjob bashing cardboard boxes to the rhythm of some sort of static pattern. Naturally, I’m intrigued, and thankfully, I’m recording the whole thing. Over the course of the next two weeks, I play this track over and over again, eventually coming to the conclusion that a) the boxes were drums, b) what I thought was static was actually the guitar, c) these guys are outta their fucking minds, d) these guys are the best thing I’ve ever heard in my short life. Of course, I summarily lose the tape and forget the band’s name before I can find anything on vinyl. That song, however, managed to permanently etch itself into my brain. Fast forward six years, wherein I randomly pick out some compilation called Killed By Death at some record store because it has the Cheifs’ “Blues” on it and I love that song. The song that follows it, “Gacy’s Place,” comes on and I find myself jumping up and down in absolute glee as the aforementioned completely insane individual is again bellowing at me, warning me that “they’re fucking your kids!” Not having any kids, I take his concern for my progeny with a grain of salt, yet remain stoked that I finally have something by this elusive band to call my own. Fast forward another sixteen years, and I find myself with a copy of a new CD with twenty—count ‘em—twenty tracks from one of the greatest, most deranged, PUNKEST goddamn bands I’ve ever heard in my now not-as-short-as-it-used-to-be life. In some Mansonesque twist of fate, I see the parallels between the band and my own life—a) they: a tune called “Doggie Sex,” me: writer of a song called “A Boy and His Dog;” which roughly covered the same subject matter, b) they: a song called “Tumor Boy,” me: my last band was the Tumors; c) they: a song called “Dry Heave,” me: anyone who knows of my former love of malt beverages can spell out the correlation on this one—and realize that they have been trying to send me a message for quite some time, but due to some cruel twist of fate, I haven’t been able to receive it. I plop it on the stereo, not coincidentally in the middle of the night on some Saturday circa 2004, fast forward it to track number five, “Padded Cell,” and the insane individual is screaming, “Don’t leave me here to DIE!/Don’t leave me here to DIIIEE!” at me again, just like he did twenty-two years ago. I kneel down, pick up one of the speakers blaring away on the floor, caress it and softly tell him no, I won’t ever leave him again. –Jimmy Alvarado (Alternative Tentacles)


MEMPHIS RADIO KINGS:
The Devil’s Dutchman: CD
Alternative rock with a country twang. If this were the early ‘80s and Slash were still an active label, they would’ve snatched these guys up in a heartbeat, and “God As My Waitress” would’ve been a huge underground hit. Made me nostalgic for a scene I didn’t even think I missed. –Jimmy Alvarado (Hot Stack)


MARKED MEN, THE:
On the Outside: CD
The tempos are a tad less frenetic than their previous release, but they’re still mining some monster fucking hooks, and I hear more than a tinge of Dickies influence this time around. They remain one of the best punk bands that aren’t museum pieces. –Jimmy Alvarado (Dirtnap)


MARKED MEN, THE:
On the Outside: CD
Some people find God! Some people find Communism! Other people find the Marked Men! This album is so good that it makes you fall to your knees and BELIEVE IN THE HEALING POWER OF ROCK AND ROLL! I cannot possibly sound cheezy enough! I fucking love this album! If another band wrote even ONE of these songs, they could retire, happy, to a life of reality-TV-watching and Cheetos consumption. When I saw them live in Minneapolis a few weeks ago, I was overcome! Overjoyed! Dancing like a fool and singing along at the top of my lungs! How does it feel to be a genius? Ask the Marked Men. The best band in the world right now! One of the best albums in the history of albums, including all genres of music, from cavemen banging on drums to Woody Guthrie to the Ramones! I almost never say this, but I think this might be BETTER THAN LUCKY CHARMS! There is no cereal good enough to describe this! Ahhhh!!!!!!! –Maddy (Dirtnap)


MARKED MEN, THE:
On the Outside: CD
Does the world need another “I don’t care” song? Are you fucking stupid? Of course it does! And if there was a single sliver of doubt flickering through your so-called consciousness, the Marked Men will remind you why. Dirtnap delivers again in this rip-roaring record. –Jim Ruland (Dirtnap)


MARGARET DOLL ROD:
Enchante: LP
First off, this LP is practically a photo spread for Margaret Doll Rod—one-third of the Detroit garage punk band Demolition Doll Rods. Her solo debut album is covered with her in all sorts of provocative poses with guitars, but once you get past that, her music is best described as garage/trash punk with a blues influence—if you can imagine that. Do people really like this stuff? She has a decent “rawk chick” voice, but I found it hard to listen to. Good thing for full-color glossy pictures. –Guest Contributor (Rockin' Bones)


MANHANDLERS:
Self-titled: CD
The Manhandlers have one song, which I’m fine with. And it lasts for twelve songs on this LP. It just depends on how much screeching I can take. As a 7”, I’d probably play the shit out of this. As a full-length, I’m not as stoked because it blends all together into a big tumor-y lump. They’re all ladies. Ramones buzzsaw guitars. Watery bass reminiscent of the Dead Kennedy’s Klaus Fluoride. Sometimes sexy, sometimes irritating vocals. Songs about revenge, pharmaceuticals, and relationships. Come to think of it, last issue I was bummed at listening to Joan Jett. Joan was sounding dirty but her all-pro backup band sounded way too clean, like they were selling soap. The Manhandlers would be perfect in that latter role. They’ve definitely got the intensity, the grit, the barbs sticking out, and lipstick smears in private places, but a little variance in the songs wouldn’t hurt ‘em one bit. –Todd Taylor (Criminal I.Q. )


MACHETAZO:
The Maggot Sessions: 7"
Spanish gore metal along the lines of quite a few grind bands that all sort of sound the same, in a really good way, but they aren’t usually Spanish. In fact, Machetazo is the only Spanish one I know of. One time, I was in Spain and I saw a graffiti that said “PORKY” and I made my dad take a picture of me with it. True. –Cuss Baxter (First Blood Family)


M.O.T.O.:
Single File: CD
Oh, the magical salve of Masters of the Obvious. At its essence, M.O.T.O. has two basic modes. Ultra catchy, low-fi power pop and ultra catchy children’s songs for adults. Hooks as sneaky and barbed as the Jam’s. Stealth bomb melodies that rival the Beatles. I can’t say if Single File is as essential as the Buzzcocks’ Singles Going Steady, but it’s real fuckin’ close. Think of bubble gum left on a hot sidewalk and your ear as the bottom of a shoe. It’s almost impossible for these songs not to stick, no matter how hard to you try to rub them off. This collection is the ultimate comp tape of M.O.T.O.’s widely scattered bests from tapes, 7”s, imports, and out-of-print gems over the past twenty years. Even if haven’t heard one of these songs before popping this CD in, you’ll be singing “Crystallize My Penis” in the grocery store, or “I’m Infected” when you’re holding up a bank, in no time. It’s not an anorexic collection, either, and totals a beefy twenty-eight tracks. Essential listening. –Todd Taylor (Criminal I.Q.)


LOVE SONGS:
All Branches, No Trunk: CD
Don’t let the name fool you, unless your idea of a love song is an ode to shaving your balls. Various Bay Area punk rock miscreants, including that one guy from Your Mother, join forces here for a goofy, fun album that sounds like punk rock without falling into a predetermined musical niche. It’s a lot like Toys That Kill, but less skewed and with lots of little guitar parts that make me think that somebody in the band is really into Iron Maiden. I love the artwork, too. Good stuff. –Josh (New Disorder)


LOVE ME DESTROYER:
Black Heart Affair: CD
I’m going to invent a new genre with this review: “punk noir,” or would “noir punk” be better? Stylish, moderately melodic, straight-ahead, three-chord punk songs about widows crawling out of the bottle and switchblades and infidelity and domestic violence. If Phillip Marlowe hooked up with Social Distortion and did songs written by Billy Joe from Green Day, this is what it would sound like. Not bad at all. –brian (Suburban Home)


LONG DONG SILVER/FILTHY JIM:
Split: 7"
If you like a more “YAY-UH!” version of Led Zeppelin, you’ll prefer the Long Dong Silver side. If you’re more about an “ah-EEEE-yaaaaa-AH!” (note: That was “The Immigrant Song”) version of Led Zep, you’ll like Filthy Jim. Me? Well, if this record was a breakfast cereal, it’d be a bowl of diarrhea with some of that new green Mountain Dew™ poured over the top. Taste the rainbow! BEST SONG: That kind of “Rock & Roll” one BEST SONG TITLE: Geez, that’s a four-way tie for first between “Junkie Cinderella” “Spank My Ass” “Tied to the Needle” and “Teenage Witch.” I am frozen in the presence of such circuit-frying brilliance! FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Somebody, somewhere, involved, knowingly or unknowingly, with this record, has the license plate 498-54L. Shun it. –Rev. Norb (Scarey)


LISAFER:
Version 10.0: CDEP
More pissed-off, snot-flinging punk rock fun from L.A.’s favorite female power trio. And when I say pissed off, it don’t mean in the least that there’s not a whimsical element laying underneath it all, you jaded fuck. Lookie here at the lyrics from “Patty Loved Lucy”: “Linus hung himself/Schroeder broke his keys/Sally slit her wrists/And Woodstock fell from the tree/When they found out Patty loved Lucy… Snoopy went to the pound/A train ran over Marcy/Pig Pen drank some gas/And they locked up Charlie Brown/When they found out…” Because of this pneumatic rib-tickler, you’d think Charles Schultz is probably spinning in his grave, but his dusty corpse should be spinning for better reasons, like how Knott$ Berry Farm is rolling in a huge pile of money with all that Peanuts merch they sell. Whatever, Chuck… just lighten the fuck up and get your rock on, Lisafer style. This goes for all of you amongst the living, too. –Designated Dale (www.lisafer.com)


LEWD, THE:
Kill Yourself b/w Pay or Die/Trash Can Baby: 7"
Now here’s a punk rock chestnut, reissued last year to satisfy demand, I guess. I gotta say, though, I owned a copy of this back in my rabid collecting days, and when I put this new copy on, I totally didn’t recognize it, and a week later I can’t remember what it sounds like. Get it if you must, but it’s not gonna take your mind off those early Killed by Death comps. –Cuss Baxter (Rockin’ Bones)


WHITE LIGHTS, THE:
Self-titled: CD
How do I evaluate that which I know nothing about? Hmmm…This is sorta artsy, violiny music. I really don’t have much to say about it, other than I really couldn’t get into it. I tried listening to it a second time, and just couldn’t bring myself to do it – based mostly on the fact that the lead singer’s voice is really irritating. She has these really affected, purposely accented voice that got on my nerves. This is Cap’n Crunch – hurts the roof of my mouth – or, in this case, my ears! –Maddy (Worry Bird)


DECALS, THE:
Drive-By Kiss Off: CD
Wow! Its yet another “rock” album. I seem to be getting a lot of rock albums for review in my own zine lately – rock being defined as: a.) not punk b.) could be played in a bar. Nothing wrong with it, of course, but if I can imagine that any band’s following is almost entirely made up of a bar crowd… well, call me crazy, but I’m not gonna be too excited. (As we all know, bar shows suck, and all ages shows are where it’s at! I’ve thought this since I was 14 and, at the age of 22 – well within the legal limits to attend bar shows – I’m still opposed!) Okay, so here’s the part where I shut up and talk about the music, dude. The Decals have a female lead singer who does not sound like Kim Shattuck, contrary to other reviews of this CD I’ve seen around. In theme, they probably come closest to a band like the Eyeliners, but with much worse lyrics. Nothing too exciting here, but nothing too awful either. And if you’ve spent enough on expensive drinks all night, you might just find yourself loving it. This is Golden Grahams – only great when you’re really drunk and someone hands you a box of ‘em!
–Maddy (Fork-in-Hand)


LEFTOVER CRACK:
Fuck World Trade: CD
This band had a record on Hellcat a few years ago and I guess weren’t invited back because this is on another label. Less ska than I have heard from them in the past but it’s still there. For some reason I keep thinking Beatnik Termites when they play their non-ska songs. The vocalist’s voice is over-screamed and can get annoying at times. I’m pretty sure they have already built up their fan base, so those people will already go out and get this. It’s an average release that just did not have a song on it that jumped out and touched me. –Donofthedead (Alternative Tentacles)


DAN MELCHIOR’S BROKE REVUE:
Heavy Dirt: CD
A wild mix of lo-fi trash, blues, country and punk rock. Everything grates on the nerves in just the right way, enough to annoy but not enough to repulse. This guy’s supposedly worked with Billy Childish and Bruce Brand of Thee Headcoats and Holly Golightly, and that would make sense, although I think that he’s a tad more deranged in sound than his friends. –Jimmy Alvarado (In the Red)


LARS FREDERIKSEN AND THE BASTARDS:
Viking: CD
If the promise displayed by Lars Frederiksen’s first album was a surprise, then this sophomore release is more shocking for all the wrong reasons. The first record, much like Rancid’s best work, demonstrated an acute understanding of the stresses that working second or third shift carry and making do as a struggling punk. And then this hit. I barely know what to say. We can begin with the liner notes, because the censored pictures of semi-attractive women are the best part of this release. It’s true that a picture says a thousand words and the generic images of women affecting lustful expressions pretty much say it all. This is half-assed punk by numbers with few melodies, few hooks and little insight. It’s all about posturing—Lars doesn’t go anywhere without his switchblade. He’s a tough streetwise punk. He’s had threesomes in… well, pretty much every city he can seem to think of. He’s had sex with hookers. So what? What, in the end, does all this boasting and bragging signify? How does this relate in any way to anything which provides any sort of insight into the human condition, the loneliness and sorrow that most punks are all too intimately familiar with and which Frederiksen captured on his debut? The short answer is that it doesn’t relate at all, that it signifies fuck all and that this has more in common with a bling-bling era hip hop record than it does with punk… except that most rappers talking about their money, bitches, and Cristal can find a hook to save their lives. –Puckett (Hellcat)


CUTS, THE:
Self-titled: LP
Neo-’60s/Voxx fuzzzrock straddling that fine line between the Standells and Love. Kinda wary of bands like this ‘cause so many of them suck, but the fact that there are some great songs and inspired performances here makes this an exception rather than the rule. Good stuff for a nice summer drive through the shitty parts of town. –Jimmy Alvarado (Rock'n'Roll)


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