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No Idea Records

Record Reviews

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A Glut of Plastic: Cassette
It took two of four songs for me to realize that there is no guitar on this album. I didn’t miss it. As a guitar player, I didn’t even take it personally. We’ve had our share of spotlight. Besides, the superior musicianship, riffage, and controlled chaos created by David Dempsey on drums and Dan Shaw on bass is enough to please the ears and keep the brain alert. Vocalist Ian Kurtis Crist does a mix of hardcore vocals and spoken word with thoughtful lyrics. He’s got a real presence that is working overtime to keep up with the band, but succeeding nonetheless.  –John Mule (Self-released)

Lost in Translation: CD
Some of these dudes are/were in Leatherface, but this stands on its own two feet. First new release from this band in over twenty-three years. Very melodic, very riff-oriented, very good punk rock here. “Room with a View” and “Wake Up Call” are a couple of my favorites here. I’m glad this came my way. I’ll be digging into the back catalog and keeping my eyes peeled for a U.S. tour in 2014.  –Sean Koepenick (Boss Tuneage)

Pearly Gates: LP
This is how you summon Satan. “Conception of the Jackal in 6/8 time.” Satan wants you to give him your all. Satan wants you to get weird. He has no special affinity for black metal or death metal, but if you want to knead a sprinkling of those genres into a dough that you concoct from grumbling grooves and slobbering fastcore, he’s not going to kick you out of bed. But you’ve got to do it right. You’ve got to do it like you mean it, with psychotic horned animal masks. You’ve got to take your shirt off and show your hairy chest so the devil can see what kind of man you are. Satan approves of Gringos.  –MP Johnson (Wrecked ‘Em)

“Trouble” & “Oh Yeah!”: 7”s
And then repeat it! Proving their 12” EP wasn’t a fluke, the Goons continue their brilliant Budget Rock-style assault on the ears and soul of the world. Gino is apparently a big boy now and has been taking the show on the road. Total Punk keeps scoring with the hits! Their Rip Off Records aesthetic fits every release perfectly. The liners describe the Goons perfectly, “fast and loose—loose and loud.” The Pelican Pow Wow record is just as powerful; no sassy liner notes but the cover does have some sassy ladies showing their stuff. This band is so stupid and simple and perfect, yet I can’t do it. Argh!  –Sal Lucci (Total Punk / Pelican Pow Wow)

Black Sails on a Sea of Blood: CD
This one-man band plays grumbling, synth-heavy garage rock to accompany the moment when your face peels off and your skull escapes and grows arms and starts shooting everything up with a laser gun.  –MP Johnson (Goblinhaus)

Split: 7”
Radius Records, the folks who put out The Smoking Popes’ Inoculatorback in 1991, has risen from a twenty-year nap, moved from Chicago to San Diego, and released a mighty fine split featuring two contemporary L.A. punk groups. It’s hard not to be pulled in by the beauty of Paul Aguilera’s cigarette-smoking devil kitty paintings, the art that adorns each side of the sleeve, though the irreverence of the painting doesn’t fully capture the depth of each group’s contribution. To that point, Gentlemen Prefer Blood are one of those groups that has cracked the code and crafted a melodically catchy and lyrically engaging sound in the pop punk genre, a genre which I love, but which I think offers a challenge for being inventive within. They carry the pop in their songwriting sensibility, and the punk in the look-life-in-the-eyes effect. On “Rochester,” my favorite of their two tracks, Todd Smailes sings of “keeping guarded in the underground/saving smarts for the showdown” in a gravelly tone set over inviting palm mutes, and in seconds, your ears are met with a rise of vocal harmonies that somehow make the song arrive both emotionally and sonically, a rare accomplishment in just over two minutes. Hands Like Bricks, maybe the more straight-forward rockers of the two, stands as catchy, singable, moshable, and drinkable. And are we talking 7-Eleven fountain drinks—yes?—then, yes, even refillable! Songs like “The Old Crowd” and “Sunday Stuff” work for me, but I’m not sure if they really show the band’s dynamic and range as well as their last EP II does. I recommend this split for all the tracks, particularly Gentlemen Prefer Blood’s, but afterward, consider checking out Hands Like Brick’s II as well.  –Jim Joyce (Radius)

We’re Fucked: LP
One of those strange amalgams that succeed flawlessly: dense, riff-heavy, melodic, and mercilessly catchy punk fronted by a veritable sasquatch of a monster on vocals. In lesser hands it’s a combination that wouldn’t work, but this record just decimates. Vocalist Peter Woods (a Milwaukee noise artist, and brother of Direct Hit’s Nick Woods, who plays bass on this record) bellows some of the most bleak, brutal, and poisonous lyrics I’ve read in years, and there’s a certain joy in that catharsis, you know? Buoyed by the melodies and velocity of the songs, this is kind of what I wished Off With Their Heads had sounded like the first time I’d heard them. Anyway, We’re Fucked is a stunning, ferocious batch of songs that I’ve listened to dozens of times in the short amount I’ve had it, and I can’t recommend it enough. May actually be the record of the year for me. Variants of the word “fuck” are used no less than forty-six times on this album.  –Keith Rosson (Lost Cat)

Self-titled: 7” EP
I’ve said it before, but I seriously wanna know how Deranged stumbles upon all these great bands. Yet another winner of an EP here ‘em, featuring a band well versed in Negative Approach-styled hardcore, who keep things tighter than hell, frantic yet coherent, zippy without getting ridiculous. Mind appropriately blown, room appropriately damaged.  –Jimmy Alvarado (Deranged)

Guts & Black Stuff: CD/LP
I have a tenuous relationship with backup gang vocals. On one hand, it can undermine the tone of a song and cause it to slip into outright silliness. On the other hand, it can really solidify a chorus and make something instantly catchy. French Exit somehow maintains the latter, like a trapeze artist, on their upbeat anthems; lesser bands would warrant major eye rolls. The rest of the songs are taut dramas, especially “When There’s a Fork in the Road, Take It” and “Bridges,” with tempo changes and Weezer-lite balladry. The production is slick which highlights every bent note, bass line, and tom fill. I would be lying if I said that these songs aren’t infectious—they snuggle up in the back of your head, like the adorable Maine Coon pictured on the cover. For fans of ‘90s guitar chugs and confident pop hooks. Recommended.  –Sean Arenas (It’s Alive, itsaliverecords.com, adam@itsaliverecords.com)

Self-titled: LP
Another long-forgotten release by a long lost band gets pulled from the early ‘80s void, dusted off, and reintroduced to the world of the living, if only for a brief moment. Virtually nil is apparently known about the band other than that they once called Italy home and, judging from the cassette packaging, weren’t strangers to the whole anarcho punk thing. Make no false assumptions based on that info that you’re gonna get something that lives between Raw Power and Crass, though. No-ho-ho. That would be a mistake. First off, the sound of the whole endeavor sounds like it came straight from a boom box, quite a common practice among the more financially challenged bands of the time, so it’s all cardboard-boxy, with things getting a bit muddy on occasion, no doubt the kiss of death for a modern populace with ears keyed to even the skintest band spitting up something that’s been run through ProTools or some equivalent. The band itself sounds like it’s peopled with folks no more than a few months out from first picking up their instruments, thrashing ‘n’ howling one second, then plodding ‘n’ plunking the next. Yeah, I know, I know, I’m not exactly selling this bad boy, right? Well, here’s the thing: what makes this worthwhile is that it manages to capture the creative process of a band unhindered by commercial expectations, the rules of how to properly make music on an instrument and the “correct” way to write a song. This utter freedom is so fuckin’ hard to come by these days, when even so-called anarchist bands are so busy trying to conform to some preapproved pigeonhole that they end up sounding like one big faceless blob of mediocrity. Is it “good” listening? Well, that’s easily up for debate. It is a poignant reminder of what’s too often lost in punk’s progression from revolt against mediocrity to coveted career trajectory—you can’t truly be free if you care even the slightest if someone else will approve.  –Jimmy Alvarado (S.S.)

FM 359:
Some Folks: 7”
Members of Street Dogs and Dropkick Murphys try their damnedest to be the next Eagles. Seriously gorgeous packaging with a “Maker’s Mark” type wax seal, but not much else worth the trouble.  –Jimmy Alvarado (Pirates Press)

Bishop: LP
This is the epitome of my favorite type of new modern hardcore band… fast, noisy, lo-fi, and seemingly nihilistic. I’ll use the band NASA Space Universe as a point of reference, but the audio fidelity of this record sounds way worse than anything they’ve done—like if you dubbed your older brother’s black metal tapes playing through his stereo speakers to a boom box using the built-in microphone. Yes, it sounds that shitty, but I mean that totally in the best way. There are twenty blistering songs here that will surely not disappoint if you like your punk rock fast with a low fidelity and DIY aesthetic firmly in place.  –Mark Twistworthy (Savage Quality, savagequalityrecordings.com)

Self-titled: CD
Bouncy, buzzsaw bop-pop for retro-lovin’ futurists. They keep the delivery Ramones-straightforward, the hooks dripping straight outtaBay City, and the sound authentically apple-pie-and-dimples clean. This stuff is hard to pull off without drowning in a puddle of saccharine, but they do so in spades, with one bubbly hit after another.  –Jimmy Alvarado (HoZac)

High Horse: 7”
To date, I don’t think I’ve heard a band that sounds this much like The Motards. Seriously, this could’ve been on Empty Records, if the label still existed (RIP). Sloppy, fun, and fast garage, just the way we all should’ve been taught. Fire Retarded have the rolling, up-tempo, drum technique down pat. Like Nine Pound Hammer did once upon a time—though this group is less country-fried. Apparently, there’s a member of The Hussy in this outfit. And while The Hussy is great, they sound nothing like this single, so keep ‘em separate. Is this a new trend? Are more bands going to bring this sound back? I fucking hopeso.  –Steve Adamyk (Glory Hole, gloryholerecords.com)

Time Wall: 7”
Another reissue from Last Laugh, this time a one-off single from an obscure Scottish punk band originally released in 1978. The title track is a potent bit of slashing-guitar and anger-type punk and the flip, “Talkin’ About Myself,” is a bit more sloppy, introspective ‘n’ brooding revolving a two-to-three chord riff. Essential? Not really, but it is a good single.  –Jimmy Alvarado (Last Laugh)

Re-Mit: CD
Is it me, or does Mark E. Smith, with each successive Fall release, sound more and more like your drunk uncle hollering random shit while some band plays in the background?  –Jimmy Alvarado (Cherry Red)

Self-titled: LP
An instrumental album by Alex Cuervo of the Hex Dispensers and Brotherhood Of Electricity. Compared to the Hex Dispensers’ fast-driving, Ramones/Misfits-concise stabs of songs that watershed around repeated phrases, Espectrostatic is almost the opposite on the surface—no words, long song structures invoking alien landscapes turning from night to day, sounds as overlapping textures, synthesizers with the keys depressed for stretches (and if there are guitars, they’re definitely not the focus). But there is some overlap to Alex’s previously released material. Same mind. Different production. There’s a walnut-sized part of the brain called the temporoparietal junction. If it gets wonked, it can lead to adverse effects, like difficulty making moral decisions and the production of out-of-body experiences. This record’s creepy, like unearthly fog billowing underneath the threshold instead of an axe splintering a door (smoke opposed to blood). It’s atmosphere, insidious patience building, marching, swelling, constricting, releasing. It sounds like the score to a movie set in outer space made by ghosts. Intriguing.  –Todd Taylor (Trouble In Mind)

You’re Not Gonna Get It 1978-81: CD
Just when you think that the Killed by Death series and its myriad of imitators has squeezed the last bit o’ goodness from the underground, another gem plops right into yer lap. Epicycle was a band outta Chicago that released several singles and an LP during the titular years, yet somehow have gone relatively unnoticed in the years since despite the adoration of early fans who went on to great success during the underground’s “grunge” era. The music here, culled from the aforementioned releases as well as demo tracks and one live cut, is giddily good from a band that gleefully defies any immediate assessments—just when you’ve got ‘em pegged as a buncha street hoods cribbing influences from the same records as the Runaways and the Damned, they wrench you in the earhole with rough and tumble power pop complete with twangy guitars and multi-part harmonies—and stands as another great example of an era when the whole point to “new” music was to experiment and create instead of playing to the same staid, cookie-cutter pigeonhole.  –Jimmy Alvarado (HoZac)

It’s Still Broke. The First Two Records: CD
No fucking brainer. Timely reissue of one of the 2000’s most underrated and overlooked bands. Post Ricord, pre-Violent Arrest hardcore ripping. While every old cunt from back in the day is reforming, Ripcord moved on, changed names, and still delivered. Sometimes we forget there are really talented people buried in the mire of punk and hardcore. Steve “Baz” Ballam’s resume speaks for itself, Ripcord, Heresy, Dumbstruck and now Violent Arrest. He is the master of channeling the sounds of Boston and Sweden into a melting pot that has since been rehashed through bands like Boston Strangler and No Tolerance. This is the backbone of Ripcord with a crusty singer. SSD and Siege filtered through the Varukers. The 7” is unstoppable and worth the price of entry alone. Again, thanks Boss Tuneage for delivering.  –Tim Brooks (Boss Tuneage)

“Macgowans Seeth” b/w “Forward to Fun”: 7”
As far as I’m concerned, the gravel-voiced Johnny “Peebucks” Bonnel can front as many fucking bands as he wants and every single one will have a fighter’s chance with me. I’m a huge fan of the legendary San Francisco-based Swingin Utters, and the more folky, Pogues-inspired Filthy Thieving Bastards. As a side note, seeing the latter tour with the Pogues’ Spyder Stacey is one of my all-time favorite memories. Fans of any and all of the previously name-dropped bands and artists should not be disappointed by this release. Bonnel’s voice and writing are in prime form here, and the rest of Druglords Of The Avenues provide as good a backing band as anyone could wish for.  –John Mule (Pirates Press)

Ready! Get! Go!: CD
Dot Wiggin is hopefully a familiar name as the lead guitarist and front woman of The Shaggs. Ready! Get! Go! is Wiggin’s first new recordings in over forty years. For the uninitiated, The Shaggs’ (1968-1975) music was sonically more revolutionary than punk rock. The Shaggs were inimitable—true pioneers of outsider music in the rock era (although that was never the band’s intention—Wiggin and Co. were sincerely creating their own music from scratch). Unfortunately, they were too far out there to sell any records. (To get the band’s story, check the Internet or the outdated-but-great Songs in the Key of Z.) Ready! Get! Go! is a great album. Wiggin gets backing from people who can play. They support her well in most instances, only occasionally infringing/imposing on the uniqueness of Wiggin’s work. That being said, Ready! Get! Go! was tastefully done. If you’re a Shaggs fan, you probably already own this album. If you’re on the fence about picking it up, rest assured: this is another great album by Dot Wiggin that captures the uniqueness of her songwriting, done with great understanding and support by the band and the label. Wiggin’s imprint is still there and putting her in a more “musical” environment (the album includes a cover of “End of the World”) is rewarding. Way to go, Dot.  –Ryan Leach (Alternative Tentacles, altenativetentacles.com)

1983 Demo Cassette: LP
Here’s what I was able to dig up about this bad boy: Division Four was an early ‘80s band hailing from Perth, Australia that managed to spurt out this, their sole recorded output, in 1983 before fading back into obscurity. The titular demo has become quite the collector’s item, so this reissue will no doubt be hailed ‘n’ huzzahed in certain quarters, and with good reason: the shit’s pretty danged good. Dual bass guitars, drums, synths ‘n’ vocals bubble and brood aplenty, but ain’t averse to getting all punky-aggressive on occasion so that their results are in just as good company with mid-’80s UK punk as they are with post-punk and the quirkier wing of the new wave. Fuggin’ choice listening here.  –Jimmy Alvarado (Smart Guy, smartguyrecords.com)

Ooey Gooey Chewy Ka-Blooey!: CD
The long-threatened Dirtbombs bubblegum album! If memory serves me correctly, Mick Collins’ original idea for The Dirtbombs was to have each release be a different concept. (Who woulda thunk the band responsible for Horndog Fest could have put out a pop record?) This batch o’ tunes is good, captures the spirit of ‘70s bubblegum rock, but Mick Collins has too much soul to write a true pop album. You can feel this even in the first note on the first song (“Sugar on Top”). The Dirtbombs patented fuzz is indeed present. “Crazy for You” might be the catchiest, taking you on a trip backwards in musical time, showing you how The Ramones put their own spin on bubblegum music. To me, the Beach Boys-esque trio of songs (“The Sunshine Suite”) was only good for one or two listens. I’ve often thought that the bubblegum genre is too silly and childish, relying heavily on double entendre. So with that said, the pervert in me hopes “We Come in the Sunshine” means something filthy.  –Sal Lucci (In The Red)

Avenue X: CD
When I was fourteen or fifteen, the act of buying a new record was an instance of titanic financial and emotional investment. Like most kids that age, I generally felt pretty shitty and was staking a huge chunk of my liquid assets and also my complete short-term emotional well-being on the supposition that the record purchased was gonna SAVE MY FUCKING SOUL. Almost everything I had was riding on the wager that THIS RECORD WOULD BE SO FUCKING FANTASTIC that it would change my life immediately; my problems wouldn’t disappear, but they would be rendered irrelevant. My life would take a new and awesome quantum leap this way or that, and, once that occurred, pretty much everything else could kiss my ass. I’m thinking of the times when I dropped the needle in the groove of “Rock & Roll Girl” or “Cretin Hop” for the first time— HUGE, life-changing events, never to be repeated. I’m not sure why some horny loner fourteen or fifteen year old kid would buy this CD—other than the fact that there’s a girl dressed in nothing but an American flag and a goofy hat on the cover—but, if one did, and he plopped it on his music-producing device, glum and alienated and forlorn, and the first thing he heard was some punky rock diva growling “I WISH SOMEONE WOULD FUCK ME… TONIGHT!!!”—would it be one of those massive, life-changing events for him, where the virtual presence of some imaginary kindred soul suddenly shed light in the darkness of insanity? Would he bond to this record in the manner of how feral wiener dogs raised by mallards don’t know they’re not ducks? I think it’s possible. If not, I feel no shame in giving it the benefit of the doubt. I, of course, am too old and jaded to imagine I am anything but a feral wiener dog, so I think this mostly sounds like what I imagine L7 would have sounded like if Rod Swenson would have managed them and wrote their songs instead of doing similarly unto the Plasmatics. The one exception to this is “Come Home,” which reminds me that no matter how much “I wish someone would fuck me tonight” the punky rock starlets hit ya with, in the end, they all really only wanna sing “Me and Bobby McGee” anyhoo. Oh well, best of luck with the fucking, dearie. BEST SONG: “Tonight.” MOST PLASMATICS-LIKE SONG TITLE: “4:20 24/7.” FANTASTIC AMAZING TRIVIA FACT: Marky Ramone plays drums on three songs on this record, but it sounds kinda like he was never in the same room with anyone else in the band when recording his drums…kinda like the instrumental break in “Dream Lover” by the Plasmatics! AHA! THE SMOKING GUN!!!  –Rev. Norb (Rokarola)

Blasfemia: LP
Here’s a reissue of these Polish punks’ fifth LP, the original having emerged in 1992. Blasfemia contains no shortage of ripping solos and intricate basslines, rocking hardest when the band locks into these irresistible metal grooves. An atmospheric chorus effect cuts in and out, reminiscent of darker ‘90s hardcore in the vein of Inside Out. Robert Matera’s vocals are at once bitterly venomous and catchy as hell. Luckily for me, English translations accompany the Polish lyrics—I’ve read that some of their other translations have been lacking, but these are more or less on point. The lyrics are heavy with angst in the true sense of the word: the crushing anxiety of existence, a suffocating sickness that’s futile to resist. The sentiment is all the more powerful given Poland’s history of censorship and political repression. For me, the first truly cathartic moment of the album comes halfway through “Pierwszy Raz,” when Matera’s threatening vocals erupt into a seething, snarling rage. The rest of the album never lets up as it oscillates between haunting, metal-tinged hardcore and straightforward, melodic punk rock. If you’ve been sleeping on this classic for any part of the last twenty years, now is an excellent time to catch up.  –Indiana Laub (Pasazer, pasazer@pasazer.pl, pasazer.pl)

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