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No Idea Records

Record Reviews

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Troublemaker: CD
Scandinavian heavy metal with a punk edge. Now there’s something original. –Jimmy Alvarado (Scooch Pooch)

Good Times Coming Back Again: CD
I don’t understand why I got this, or why they sent it to this magazine. The punkest thing about it is that one track has about fifteen seconds of Breeders-reminiscent intro, and the Breeders descended from the Pixies, and some punks like both of those bands (myself included). But fifteen seconds in the midst of twelve whole songs of Chris Isaakan altpop don’t mean shit to me. If this was some sort of cruel prank, I’m gonna jam a Twinkie in someone’s eye. –Cuss Baxter (G7 Welcoming Committee)

Split : CD
Fuck yeah. During this rotation of CD reviews, I though to myself, “Am I being too harsh? Am I becoming a flapping cockhole critic who can’t hear good in front of him? Why am I not liking a lot of bands I’ve never heard of?” That ends here. Both of these bands are great, and for reasons I can’t explain, the Grabass Charlestons win by a nose. (There are overlapping band members between the two bands and it gets confusing who hootenannies from one band to the other, even after it was explained to me that Will Beltone drums and sings on the first seven songs. The fact that the entire album repeats itself confuses my simple brain even more. But after a lot of deliberation, you know what? It doesn’t matter.) It’s prototypical (not to be confused with predictable) Gainsville punk – and what that means to you is that they’ve got an inherent love (either subliminally or explicitly) of Leatherface. They fit right into the pantheon/fireside ruckus of Panthro UK United 13, Radon, Dillinger Four and The Beltones. The music zings and crashes around like a drunk, sloppy, happy gang of friends that stomp on fires holding uncapped gas cans above their heads. Happy, strong combustion, pure and simple. It’s made by people who could give a fuck about being fashionable and can pull off Cheap Trick’s “Hello There” like they wrote it themselves. Take, for instance, what I pose is our generation’s “Pinball Wizard.” (Join along in this exaltation if you consider your generation having nothing to do with mall mentalities, music on the radio, moving units or Soundscan, just the love of loud, raw, fun music that ain’t afraid of thinking as much as drinking.) “Galaga Wizard” has got all this boy needs to fuel his brain and make him hoarse from shouting along. It follows a protagonist being picked up in a limousine full of dignitaries and “neon girls, minor legions with cocaine pearls,” pissed that he’s called an amateur, then locks into the world of the game itself, as “them falling bees is looking fucking scary,” ending, no less, with “it’s some sacred shit to be spreading ‘round.” It’s cool because it’s about playing a video game, but works on so many different levels, like meeting expectations, forever tagged as the underdog and not only being ready to prove yourself at any time, but succeeding in the world you’ve created. That hits so close to home, it’s not even funny. I can’t think of a higher recommendation for this CD. –Todd Taylor (No Idea)

You Goddam Kids!: CD
The sole solo recorded output from this former Deadbeat and famous producer, this long out of print gem finally resurfaces. For those who are either too young or too burned out to remember what this sounds like, imagine Are We Not Men?-era Devo trying to stretch out and get weird and jazzy, and then add a marimba. Believe me, it sounds better than that description. The music doesn’t sound dated at all and, in addition to “classic” tracks like “Isotope Soap” and “We Need More Power,” you get a couple of bonus tracks. Big thumbs up here. –Jimmy Alvarado (Dionysus)

Never Bet the Devil Your Head: CD
Just when I thought everything had been said and done with street punk and the genre was starting to play itself out, along came this new GC5 album to destroy all my preconceptions. I’ve been trying to figure out what sets the GC5 apart from all the street punk bands that came and went within a year or two of that first Dropkick Murphys album. I scratched my head over this as I listened to this album again and again. Finally, I realized that it’s not one thing that sets this album apart. It’s everything. It’s the fact that they owe as much to the Workin’ Stiffs as they owe to Cocksparrer. It’s the new energy and anxiousness they bring to their songs. It’s their ability to stick a slow, acoustic song in the middle of the album without killing the flow of the album and without coming off as a second rate bar band. It’s the way they can sneak outlaw-country-style lyrics reminiscent of Waylon Jennings or Kris Kristofferson (yeah, Kristofferson’s a weenie of an actor, but he was a great songwriter) into their songs, like this one: “I got my education in the ivory halls/ Found the pulse of the nation on truck-stop toilet stalls.” It’s the way they completely rip off the Swingin’ Utters in one song, yet somehow get away with it. It’s little bits and pieces, and the way they all fit together. I got their first album, Kisses from Hanoi, a couple of years ago and have listened to it consistently since then. I was hoping their follow up album would be as good, and Never Bet the Devil Your Head definitely holds up against their debut. The lyrics are less political on the new album, but there’s still a lot of great lines. And the wanking guitar solos from the first album have been replaced by more solidly constructed songs. It’s a fucking awesome album. –Sean Carswell (Thick)

No Need to Panic: CD
By the time this one came out, I, and most of those I hung out with at the time, had pretty much written off GBH as yet another once-good band who’d sold their soul to rock’n’roll and stopped payin’ attention to ‘em (to be honest, today is the most GBH I’ve heard in one sitting in more than a decade). Damn shame I didn’t stick around for one more album, ‘cause this one is actually better than its predecessor. The metal is kept pretty much in check, the songs are pretty good and the tempos sometimes reach the speed of their Sick Boy days. Excuse me while I eat another heaping mouthful of crow. –Jimmy Alvarado (Captain Oi)

Midnight Madness and Beyond: CD
This is the album where GBH and I parted company. There are some mighty fine songs on here. The songs that didn’t seem so hot so long ago are actually not so bad after all and the sound that made them huge can still be found in there somewhere, but the metal that was always bubbling under the surface began to become more prevalent and that, kiddies, made all the difference. –Jimmy Alvarado (Captain Oi)

City Baby’s Revenge: CD
Some records are really hard to listen to, not because of how good or bad they are, but rather because of what they evoke. This one is just such a record. I have so many memories tied up around this band and this album, from assorted fights to assorted drunken parties to being drunk and fighting at assorted gigs. It seems like it was last year or something when this was originally released and it’s actually been nineteen years. Nineteen fucking years. That is an absolutely mind-boggling concept, one my mind almost has trouble grasping. Yeah, it’s still a damn fine album. Yeah, the lyrics are still okay at best and the folks at Captain Oi were kind enough to include the “Give Me Fire,” “Catch 23,” and “Do What You Do” 45s on this. Yeah, I highly recommend it to those not familiar with the band Mykel Board once called “Great Big Hug” (a name that rolls outta my mouth in giggles every time someone mentions ‘em) although I will do so only after I tell them to pick up the Leather, Bristles… and City Baby Attacked by Rats albums first. But good GOD, has it been a long time! I usually try hard not to get all nostalgic for the “old days” or anything, but I’m listening to “Drugs Party in 526” right now and I just can’t seem to help myself. Don’t know about you all, but I’m gonna buy me a 40 of OE, put this puppy on LOUD and remember a time when buying a GBH shirt at the local mall was a completely alien concept. –Jimmy Alvarado (Captain Oi)

Mit Einer Hohen Geschwindigkeisrate: EP
Jangly and danceable post punk akin to what Fast Product and Rough Trade were putting out. Maybe cross early Mekons with later Buzzcocks? The tempos are hyper, the guitar is discordant with ethereal qualities, and everything sounds jammed together and scrambling for space, yet it’s clear and spacious. –Matt Average (Morphious)

Mierda/Aerosol: CDEP
“Mierda,” for some reason, reminded me of Vice Squad’s “Freedom Begins at Home.” The second track was a noisy punk tune, with lotsa time signature changes. Not the best thing I’ve heard all week, but I ain’t exactly complaining, either. –Jimmy Alvarado (Free Style, no address)

Mierda / Aeresol: CDEP
Two songs to get a feeling for this three-piece, all-girl band from Seattle. Don’t be scared; these girls have chops. Remember, before goth, there was death rock. That is what these ears hear mixed with some metal overtones to put the umph into their attack. It’s also a little loose and raunchy, which make this listener appreciate this more. I’m enthusiastic to hear what else comes from these women. –Donofthedead (Free Style)

The Game of Futbol: CDEP
Like the Butthole Surfers in their prime, you want Fleshies to fuck with you. It’s fun to hear them molest your eardrums, and this EP kind of feels like kneeling down before a priest who kicks you square in the forehead with soccer cleats. Then you realize why he’s wearing those shoes. So he doesn’t trip in your blood while he dances around, making fun of you. This EP should come with the instructions: “Steal a can of Scotch Guard. Spray into plastic bag. Huff until the bag’s stuck around skull in tight seal. Shit yourself. Go blind.” My favorite songs are the first and third. “Fists of Mercy” and “The Tickler” show you that they’ve got the chops to write perfect punk songs. The other four scream that they don’t give a fuck about my or your expectations. These songs destroy in different ways, from the loungey, ether-happy, four-minute, twelve-second long title song to the “Sexiest Man Alive,” sung in a metal, nut-squishing falsetto that begins with bleating sheep. Gotta appreciate bands with gonads this big who’re crazy enough to pull it off like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Recommended, in tandem with their debut CD, Kill the Dreamer’s Dream. –Todd Taylor (Adeline)

Teachers in Space: CD
With a picture of the space shuttle Challenger blowing up, the title doesn’t sound as nicey nice. While not as tickling my punk fancy as their first record, there are more harmonies, less thud, and opens with a Crass-y spoken word over tortured instruments song that isn’t as essential. In other words, a bit more arty, but upon repeated listens, it’s growing on me. It makes me realize how truly funny, diverse, and inventive The Feederz could be away from hardcore. The song titled “Intermission (Time for a Snack)” is just that. Mellow vibes and a ticking clock for a minute and five seconds. Half of “Taking the Night” sounds like a musical. A really good musical that I’d like. About rioting. So, if you see both this and Ever Feel…, get the other, but if you have a choice between this and, say, an emo record, this’ll do your head good. As an added bonus, this also has a long live show video on it (which can’t be played on record players). –Todd Taylor (Broken)

Ever Feel Like Killing Your Boss: CD
Anger can be an amazing source for inspiration. This is classic, long hard-to-find, caustic, dark shit that would do you well to pick up. Spearheaded by the acid-spitting Frank Discussion, The Feederz never took any sides – left or right, right or wrong – except their own. Yet they were super-intelligent and graphically smart about pulling off this musical coup. You’d think that something so nihilistic would immediately implode on itself. Luckily, they recorded a couple albums before that happened (although they’re playing out again). The songs themselves are fantastic and it’s almost impossible to trace how many bands have shamelessly borrowed from The Feederz without giving credit where credit’s due – from the outright intelligent antagonism (rarely duplicated), the guitar strangulation, the absolutely amazing drumming that sets a definite mood and pace, the ability to play a slower song that’s completely frenetic and dizzy, how to make truly moving protest-against-everything music, and the flow of the entire album itself. The Feederz were many things, but they had several recurring themes: anti-capitalism, anti-advertising, anti-submission, and anti-religion. Indispensable jewels are songs like “1984,” which rails against working so someone else can make a buck off of you. (“You go to school for twelve years where you learn just one thing/ How not to mind being bossed.”) In every fold of the CD jacket, Frank suggests you steal this album, to use their artwork, to tape the songs at home. Juxtaposing the CD cover subvertisement of an attractive, busty bandita is the talk bubble, “Vandalism, beautiful as a rock in a cop’s face.” Leaving no big stone unturned and walking away from no fights, they go right for the robe. In “Jesus,” re-named from the original LP’s “Entering from the Rear” – leaves little room for interpretation. (“Jesus entering from the rear/ Fucking you in the ass/ Just another faggot/ In just another mass.”) I’ve always found it more than a little weird that The Feederz didn’t get as popular as, say, Dead Kennedys. Perhaps it’s because they fought with their gloves off and they constantly attacked for exposed, hypocritical throats. Perhaps it was because this album was fucking tough to find for years. The original LP version of Ever Feel… (“Pay no more than $0.00 for this record”) had sandpaper on both sides of the jacket, designed to scuff the records next to it, as a fuck you to record collectors (which backfired, because it’s worth a lot of dough.) All said and done, this is an extremely welcome re-issue that I’ll be playing incessantly. The irony that this is quite possibly more timely than when it was first released doesn’t escape me either. –Todd Taylor (Broken)

Millennium Monsterwork: CD
State-specific tuneage that is the musical equivalent of a non sequitur. I wouldn’t try listening to this without drugs. If you have neighbors who suspect you do dirty, nasty, dangerous things in your abode late at night, you might want to pass on this. If you have a boyfriend or girlfriend you want out of your of life and is slow on the uptake, put this in and select “repeat.” –jim (Ipecac)

self-titled: CD
The New New Wave is here you smacked asses and the Epoxies are at the front of the pack. How is it Seattle, Dirtnap in particular, keeps pressing records that fill huge voids we didn’t even know existed until we find ourselves spinning the disc for the dozenth time in a row? Somewhere between X-Ray Spex and Pat Benatar, the Epoxies have made a record with one foot in 1981 and another in this not-so-new millennium. The songs get up and go with snappy drums and bass lines, rocking guitars and a healthy infusion of spirited keyboards. (Their website even features a photo of a rare species of guitar known the keytar…) But what stands out is the songwriting. Singer Roxy Epoxy holds nothing back, no territory is deemed too private, no fear too painful to be explored. It’s courageous without crossing over into mawkishness or melodrama. Part of the appeal is nostalgic. The Epoxies have a weird cold war vibe that seems right at home in these paranoid times. Songs like “We’re So Small” and “Losing Control” feel like cold war anthems of the heart. This is a record about the next cataclysm – be it personal or global, public or private – that we can do nothing to stop. Post 9/11 love songs for your timid, tortured hearts. –jim (Dirtnap)

self-titled: CD
As I was on my way out his door, this CD was handed over by our own Retodd who smiled and said, “Just listen… it’s good.” Now, Todd and myself usually have one thing in common when talkin’ bands – if it’s good, really damn good, we’ll go out of our way to share and/or suggest bands to the point of irritating people (Me being the more irritating one, trust me). This CD from the Epoxies is what was missing in the record bins in the ‘80s. This is the new wave that should have been buzzing out of your parent’s speakers during those house parties you threw while they were out of town. Really great songs played by a very competent lineup along with a synth player who is spot fucking on, unlike some of the throwaway Flock Of Hairdo bands that came and went some twenty years ago. I hear hints of The Rezillos (“Stop Looking at Me”), X (“We’re So Small,” “Bathroom Stall”), and let me tell ya, it’s all done quite well. I think Roxy Epoxy could very well sit in for Chrissie Hynde if Chrissie ever needed a stand-in for one of her Pretenders gigs. I have the feeling the next time the Epoxies are in LA, I’m going to be flailing spastically ala Jim Decker of The Crowd (who would be a good band to bill the Epoxies with). And you silly gooses thought that Seattle only shits out Starbucks all over the country. Well, guess again, fucko – here come the Epoxies. –Designated Dale (Dirtnap)

Jump Ship: 7”
Snot pop with sonic punk grease as the pie filling. Think Buzzcocks. Think Saints without the horns. Think of enjoying the fact that a twelve pack of Pabst is around five bucks. Think the Jam way before Style Council. Think of days when actual singing – instead of mumbling and outright screeching – wasn’t seen as a sign of weakness and guitars didn’t have to be perfect, yet sounded right, like they could shave all the hair off your body in a single swoop and give you a few goosebumps. Think that the best hooks are the ones you haven’t heard before. Think balding drummer. Think that that makes me like them even more. Pretty cool debut. Look forward to more. –Todd Taylor (Mortville)

split: 7”
The Eddie Haskells call to mind some Dead Boys/early-vein Humpers presence, and let me tell you, that’s a mighty beautiful thang, especially the cut, “Dumpster Divin’.” Judging from just their side of the split here, I’d really like to hear some more of the Eddie Haskells’ material. On the flip, Fracas bump out a Samhain-ish “So Sayeth” and cover Antiseen’s “Fuck All Y’All”…zzzzzz… Shit, this coulda been an Eddie Haskells EP. Oh, well, can’t have it all. –Designated Dale (www.geocities.com/eddiehaskells2001/www.fracaspunks.com)

Thriller: CD
A re-ish of the third and final release by the band most often cited as being the link between Britain’s punk and pub rock scenes. Although most of the songs here never reach the manic levels of their earlier work, there are a few moments of that old brilliance, most notably “Living Dangerously.” On the whole, the music ain’t too shabby for what it is, although my personal preferences most definitely lie with their glory days. –Jimmy Alvarado (Captain Oi)

Johnny Is a Junky: CDEP
I can’t seem to pin the tail on the donkey on this. It has the rawness of a great garage punk band. It has similarity to Smogtown but hasn’t achieved that greatness. It’s got the dirtiness of a drunk punk band and elements of a SoCal surf band that makes you either want to go skate or surf. Hard one to pin but definitely stands on its own. What I can say is this worthy of more than one listen. Gotta see them live to see if the magic carries through. –Donofthedead (Cheetah)

Some Folks: CD
Some pretty straightforward sixties covers courtesy of former Mummies drummer Russell Quan and some of his pals. The song selection is great, they are very well done, and the band’s sound is authentic. What more could one ask for? Recommended. –Jimmy Alvarado (Gearhead)

Situationist Comedy: CD
Wholly fuck! Fat has released a big can of whoop ass that is going to blow up the world. The mighty D4 has returned to create a rock opera of brimstone and fire that is beautiful to watch at the same time. Cutting and tasty (Hey, that’s the Razorcake motto!) is what spews forth out for your audio pleasure. Every bit as good and to me even better than their classic Midwestern Songs... From start to finish, an accomplishment of aural perfection. Songs that take you up and down to the point of exhaustion. I am proclaiming this one of the best records of the year. If you don’t know this band by now, go buy, borrow, tape, or steal one of their releases. If you don’t like them after that, you suck. –Donofthedead (Fat)

Situationist Comedy: CD
Holy shit! I cannot possibly write a review that would do justice to this album. The Dillinger Four have been my favorite band for such a long time. The soundtrack and inspiration to so many crazy middle of the night bike rides, drunken porch sitting, zine writing, protesting, kissing, feeling depressed, feeling ecstatic… Whereas I havta sit in my room and listen to the Replacements or the Clash and dream of an era I know so little about, I have seen D4 dozens of times, singing along until I’m hoarse. If you don’t run out and buy this album (possibly their best yet), you’re gonna be kicking yourself like a teenager in 1976 NYC who never got around to checkin’ out the Ramones. What can I say? If you can’t feel passionately about the music you listen to, you’re either a detached hipster asshole or need to listen to something else. I fucking love the Dillinger Four! If this were a cereal, it’d be Lucky Charms! –Maddy (Fat Wreck Chords)

self-titled: 7”
Think late-eighties AmRep noise rock and you’re in the right ballpark. Pretty good. –Jimmy Alvarado (Elastic)

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