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Record Reviews1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 | 0-9| A| B| C| D| E| F| G| H| I| J| K| L| M | | N| O| P| Q| R| S| T| U| V| W| X| Y| Z| < Prev Section | Next Section >  RSS Feed
GG ALLIN AND ANTISEEN:
Murder Junkies: CD
As my somewhat warm Pabst and I sit down to begin a review of this re-release of GG and Antiseen’s Murder Junkies CD (originally available, I believe, on the immortal Baloney Shrapnel label), TV sets across America are buzzing with masturbatory coverage of the fresh death of the celebrity train wreck known as Anna Nicole Smith. A fitting background, I suppose, to ruminate about one of the most garish train wrecks of the modern era; scumfuc sex symbol, Mr. GG “Jesus” Allin. It may well be true to say that the only thing that we, as a narcissistic, reality-TV-addicted society, are more fascinated with than our own selves, is celebrity train wrecks. GG’s Q-Score, of course, never got close to that of Anna Nicole, because, for one thing, we seem to prefer our train wrecks, like our rebels, to look like movie stars. Whether you’re crashing and burning or raging against the system, you’d better damn well look good doing it. If not, the sleepy gaze of the ovine populace will wander elsewhere. And let’s be honest: it didn’t help GG’s Q-Score to have a pink Mike-N-Ike between his legs. Can you imagine what a folk hero he’d be if he’d been proudly brandishing a giant trouser pike like that of adored metal dunce, Tommy Lee? I’ll even go so far as to say that Tommy Lee is a celebrity now because of his abundant schwanz. He’s literally riding the coattails of his own penis. Yes, he’s a decent, if unimaginative, heavy metal drummer in a popular ‘80s hair metal band, and he’s an apparently sweet, dumb guy—when he’s not practicing rock star-style domestic abuse. But would he really have ascended to the heights of fame that he has if he hadn’t done so by scaling his own dick ladder? I doubt it. He’d be just another also-ran, half-baked celebrity, starring on B-celebrity reality TV shows like his compadre Vince Neal. No big whoop. And then that begs the question: if GG didn’t have his famously toddler-sized dink, would he have had the seething rage and all-encompassing loathing that inspired him to make a name for himself by spazzing out naked in public and re-eating the digested dinner he had the night before? And that makes me wonder what would GG have been like if he were around now to take advantage of all the wonderful penis enlargement technologies that I keep hearing about through constant and daily email ad campaigns. I’m sure GG was much more complex than a mere penis envy case and I don’t doubt that, for whatever reasons, he felt real pain in his short, tattered life. But as it is with all celebrity train wrecks, be it Anna Nicole or GG Allin, it’s hard not to wonder what inspired them to do what they did while they were alive. And it’s especially difficult to try to unknot the truths and the lies of their lives from one another. That’s because the truth of their perceived fakeness or genuineness probably lies most closely to the realm of paradox; the Twilight Zone-ish area where the lines we’ve all drawn between our either-or’s disappear like Britney Spears underpants. As a matter of fact, it is out of a healthy respect for the gooey reality of paradox in our everyday lives that I try to make a point of drinking my beer out of a Klein bottle (a sort of Mobius Strip version of a bottle that has no actual inside or outside) just to remind myself how our rational mind forever falls short of explaining away the weird, weird universe in which we live. But I seem to have wandered far afield here, as I so oftentimes do. On with the review: This re-release captures the euphonious sounds of GG Allin teamed up with the Boys from Brutalsville and if you’ve ever heard GG or Antiseen before, you know just what to expect. Glowering scum dirges of hate with guitars that sound like lawnmowers running in a tin shed. This CD also includes a few tracks of GG’s tender “unplugged” side, crooning “I wanna fuck the shit out of you” in his best David Allan Coe impersonation. The thing about GG, though, was that he always sang—or hollered—like he had a couple shoehorns lodged in his mouth. But maybe that’s a good thing, because no one wants a self-proclaimed “outlaw scumfuc” to have the clean virginal pipes of someone like Josh Groban. Sounding like you might be sucking on some turdballs the way other people suck on hard candies can only lend to your verisimilitude when you’re someone in GG’s line of business. The only problem with having a mouthful of dung Mentos is that sometimes GG’s “sinister” lyrics lose some of their scariness to the mush-mouth syndrome. For example, on “I Hate People” it sounds like he might actually be singing “I hate cream corn”—which would be a funny thing for GG Allin to be singing, considering that the foul glop that used to drop from his backside babyfood dispenser looked a lot like cream corn much of the time. And no one in their right mind would ever slather their bloodied, naked body with something they hate, right? That just wouldn’t make sense. But maybe this has less to do with GG and more to do with the wax build up in my ears. Then again, it never really was about the lyrics. GG was a lot of things, but he was no poet. He wasn’t even all that original. Some of his most infamous trademark moves had already been done by others: most notably, Sid, Iggy, and Stiv. Each of those gentlemen had experimented with onstage scarification rituals before GG did. Even his never-made-good threat to kill himself onstage wasn’t all that original; Nazi Dog, of Canada’s Viletones, had made similar threats years before the gimmick even flickered in GG’s dented head. And as far as jerking his pud and shitting himself in public goes, Diogenes the Cynic secured that act as his “intellectual property” way back in ancient Greece, several hundred years before the birth of that other famous “Jesus.” But GG was certainly an original synthesis of all those people and all their various vile acts. And he took that whole burning shit heap of reckless endangerment and rage and he pushed it further and more demonically than anyone has, before or since. And in some weird way, in doing so, he provided us a vital service much like Diogenes did way back when. That’s something that I don’t think can be said of a train wreck like Anna Nicole. “All retch and no vomit” is a tag you can never pin on GG Allin.
–aphid (TKO)
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GG ALLIN AND ANTISEEN:
Murder Junkies: CD
A reissue of an album released
a decade ago that sounds like a weekend jam session for Antiseen with
GG ranting along. Better than some of the other GG-related releases
out there, but still nothing to write home about.
–Jimmy Alvarado (TKO)
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GG KING:
Adult Rock: 7”
Nothing wrong with a little self-satirizing. Members of the Carbonas/Gentleman Jesse lay down two tracks of punked-out pop with what I presume to be humorous lyrics, but I can’t understand a word of what’s being said. As long as the tracks are this catchy, I don’t really care who they’re clowning on, though.
–Daryl Gussin (Douchemaster)
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GG KING:
Babbling Voices: 7”EP
Bands can get like families. You’re brothers. You’re related. But you may hate your fuckin’ brothers. I know nothing of the interior dynamic that fueled Atlanta’s Carbonas or what lead to their breakup. All I know is that when the Carbonas called it quits, Gentleman Jesse released a fuckin’ great, neatly-dressed full-length and GG King—drummer then, guitarist now—has released a string of notable 7”s, this being one of them. Musically, it’s cool to retroactively hear how Jesse’s smart pop (think Peter Case not Peter Cetera) locked into GG’s dirty, angular minimalism (think Urinals not Ikea). This is some extremely solid, worn-denim stuff, reminiscent of early Reatards: arrested development, slightly paranoid, screechy and churny, and with an undeniable garden of nutritious hooks right under broken, sandpapery surface.
–Todd Taylor (Local Cross)
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GGREEN:
Swimsuit Drugs: 7"
Overdriven acoustic guitar/vocal weirdness.
–Jimmy Alvarado (Out of Order)
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GHADDAR / PANACEJA:
Split: 7”
Ghaddar: mid-tempo powerviolence from Pennsylvania. Songs about such things as lazy DIY promoters, killing pigs, and how mislead religious people are. Pretty formulaic, but you know, curry is a formula too, and that shit’s delicious. Panaceja: super-intense, raging powerviolence from Croatia. If they had more room than half a 7”, I bet they would have been able to lay down some really ripping shit. You know that They Live 12” on 625? Something that good, I bet, but without the rapping.
–Daryl Gussin (Feral Kid)
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GHENGIS CON JOB:
To Hell In Black: CD
So here’s the picture on this CD: Big, tough looking guys with a lot of tattoos, bandanas, and facial hair drinking beer. The cover has a skull wearing a cowboy hat with a pentagram on it above two six-shooters skull and crossbones style. There is a picture of a tattooed woman tied up and gagged, wearing just underwear, in the trunk in the car. On the other side is just the rope in the trunk of the car. Did she escape? What’s the deal? So this CD is metal. I’m not much into metal; in fact I’d say it accounts for less than one percent of what I listen to. I can’t really relate to the satanic redneck theme of this record and the music, although not bad (I’ve listened to enough metal in my life to at least know good and bad) isn’t anything new. Somebody might like this, maybe Pantera fans? But it’s not my taste.
–Jason Donnerparty (High Fidelity)
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GHETTO WAYS:
Party Down: 7” EP
James Brown would approve. Great bands in this genre are like unexpectedly stepping into folks gloriously having sex out in the open, but not in a creepy, ashamed, or pathetic way. It’s visceral: a celebration of lascivious noises and gasps for breath and moans that aren’t usually heard in general public. Like the BellRays and the Jewws, the Ghetto Ways don’t sound like a cheap porno put-on of “clap yer hands!” “boogie!” or “testify!” but of that undeniable full-body sweat music that’s wrung out of a dirty T-shirt at the end of a set and splattered onto the floor, of shattered glass and steel-bending guitars, of rolling train drums and bass, all accelerated by a lady vocalist who sounds like a gospel singer belting out songs of the damned. Like the finest of liquor, comes in a brown bag (but stenciled).
–Todd Taylor (Wicked Singles)
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GHETTO WAYS:
Hidden Charms b/w M-O-V, I’m Movin’ On and Tanny Girls, Winks and Blue Eyeshadow: 7” EP, 7”
Sweet, dirty, alluring, and simple punk rock’s like putting a plastic model together. Almost anyone in a civilized country can go to the store, buy the kit, and huff in the garage rock fumes. But you, savvy music listener, know the difference is in how the parts are slid together, that there’s such a thing as magic dirt, that if time is taken by the band to cut themselves from the attachments of the mold—when still being obvious in what they’re making—you can listen to something special. The more Ghetto Ways songs I’m exposed to, the bigger their spectrum: parts Tina Turner, part Josie Cotton, part ‘60s soul and part non-arena ‘70s rock; the music floor’s shifting beneath them, but not in a confusing way. Fueled by Jenna’s raspy howl, lean and close guitar playing, Shane’s trouble-brining bass, and Henry’s in-the-pocket drumming all make the Ghetto Ways much more than a snapped-together, dime-a-dozen attempt at rock’n’roll. Fans of the BellRays and Miss Alex White take notice.
–Todd Taylor (Hidden Charms: Alien Snatch. Winks: Wicked Singles/Savage)
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GHETTO WAYS:
Solid Brown: CD
Based solely upon the two albums I’ve heard from these guys, it appears that they are hell-bent on claiming the MC5’s throne, and they do make a good case. The music here is as raucous, soul-tinged, and catchy as one would expect from such a band, which is more than one could say about so many other would-be heirs to the throne. I’m unable to determine if they have the same radical political bent, but they do make some impressive noise nonetheless.
–Jimmy Alvarado (www.aliensnatch.de)
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GHETTO WAYS:
The Party Bag: 7"
After listening to the Ghetto Ways—and bands in their camp as diverse as The River City Tanlines to The Detroit Cobras—is that, on one hand, they’re comforting. I like old pre-cleaned-up rock’n’roll and soul: Sam Cooke, Little Richard, Jerry Lee Lewis, Chubby Checker, The Pinetoppers. And the Ghetto Ways instantly soak me back in that tub. It feels good. One the other hand, they just aren’t just reheating covers (or songs that are, for all intents and purposes, covers with different song titles). They sound itchy, desperate, wailing, and ready to blow off any coffin lid people may want to heap dirt on top of, to fill up rock’n’roll’s grave. Three great new songs. Feisty.
–Todd Taylor (Wicked Singles)
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GHETTO WAYS:
Self-titled: LP
My initial impulse was to dismiss this for the derivative slop it is, but the catchy ‘60s soul-encrusted Stoogeisms won me over in the end. I’ve just played it three times in a row, which can only mean that I like it more than I thought I did.
–Jimmy Alvarado (Alien Snatch)
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GHOST:
Opus Eponymous: LP
While I feel like every few months or so there’s a punk or hardcore record that really blows me away, it’s a much less common occurrence that a metal record hits me in a way that my favorites do. Luckily, the last couple of years have offered up some truly great metal records (Christian Mistress, Deathspell Omega, the Nachzehrer demo, the new Crowbar), and now my absolute favorite metal record of the last many years is seeing a North American vinyl release: Ghost’s Opus Eponymous. This is not your average Satanic metal record. While the lyrics certainly maintain an entirely antichristian focus (in an old-school devil-worshipping sacrificial altar kinda way), musically, Ghost have more in common with Blue Oyster Cult and Boston than they do with their satanic contemporaries (with a hearty helping of Mercyful Fate, of course). That’s not to say that Opus Eponymous isn’t jammed full of heavy riffing and distinctly metal grooves, but it’s their melodic, almost radio-ready delivery that sets Ghost way apart from the metal pack. Anyone I’ve played this for, from die-hard metal folks to pop punks, has been totally stoked on it. It’s a perfect execution of novel approach, great talent, and theatre—and its replayability is unbelievable. I’ll be through my third or fourth repetition before I think maybe it’s time to switch it up… which I might… maybe. The only flaw I can find is the record’s brevity, but that’s easily remedied with the repeat function. Just… fuck. Wow.
–Dave Williams (Rise Above)
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GHOST AQUARIUM:
Light Cannot Escape: 7”
This is an interesting record here, mainly for the fact that it sounds like two very different bands. The a-side is an original, “Light Cannot Escape” that sounds sort of like Dinosaur Jr without J. Mascis on guitar. It’s guitar-driven with some fuzzed out bits, and instantly memorable. The vocal style reminds me of My Bloody Valentine. This song is very much on the shoe gazer side of things. A great song, to say the least. The flipside is a cover of Christian Death’s “Spiritual Cramp,” which they do quite well. Well enough to make you think this was a split 7”. It’s cool and all, but after hearing their original song, I would prefer to hear another original instead of a cover. Anyway, this is worth picking up. It comes on dark gray vinyl.
–Matt Average (Ripping)
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GHOST AVIARY / GILLIAN CARTER:
Split: CD
This split is five songs from each artist, and FYI, Gillian Carter isn’t a woman, it’s a band. I was hoping that it would be a split between an indie rock act and a woman playing cover songs by the Carter Family. Instead it is two screamy acts, Ghost Aviary being a little slower and sludgier (although not without some melodies) similar to I Hate Myself. Gillian Carter is faster and screamier, but not that interesting. They are like a crappier version of pg. 99. The drums were really high in the mix to the detriment of the guitar and bass. Ghost Aviary was a little better, but both bands need to tighten up their songs.
–Kurt Morris (ghostaviary.com)
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GHOST BUFFALO:
The Magician: CD
Fairly strong indie pop
from members of Planes Mistaken For Stars. The production is way too slick but
the songs are pretty good. Sounds like a band that might have been on a bill
with Velocity Girl or some Slumberland band in the mid ‘90s. At times, this
record even veers into Creation or Slampt territory, although with slick rather
than four-track recording. Good vocals and good instrumentation. I just wish it
had a little more grit in the sound. Seems like the type of thing that might
grow on a person after multiple listens.
–Mike Frame (Suburban Home)
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GHOST KNIFE:
Kill Shelter, Yes!: CD
Me, in my room: “Hey man, that sounds like Rookie Sensation Mike Wiebe!”
Daryl, in his: “Yeah.”
Me: “This isn’t the new Gamblers record.”
Daryl: “No, Ghost Knife.”
Me: “It’s not what I was expecting. Didn’t they dress up as Juggalos for a Fest?”
Three weeks later, we flipped to as who’d review it. It was sitting on the CD player. Expectations can be corrosive agents. Musically, they can cauterize ears. But with dudes like Weibe and Ben Snakepit and Severed Head Of Chris, I just take the shower in their sprinkler of songs and let it wash over me before I open my yob. After several listens—largely steered by Wiebe’s voice and lyrics, this is a straight-up indie pop record made by straight-up punk rockers. And I really like it. See, I’m a fan of the entire Gamblers catalog. I like it when they staple the crowd’s collective nuts and vags to their foreheads, but I also think that Wiebe’s one of the best songwriters and lyricists in our corner of the world, so I also enjoy the slower stuff… because I like reading and meaning. Kill Shelter, Yes! is slower, more lush stuff. There’s a song sung from a cat’s perspective (or is that purr-spective?). The record kept me thinking that if Joe Meno novels if they were set to music. Creative, detailed, kind, paced. My only small “Huh?” is that the graphic design’s confusing. It’s all Tiki and fancy Polynesian drinks that have little bearing on the tone of the record, but the songs aren’t listed in order and some of the lyrics are chopped off. “Hey Man, who stuck their Antioch Arrow/Built To Spill/Modest Mouse into my punk with a dirty finger? Ghost Knife.” I’m going to keep this one spinning. Learn some new shit.
–Todd Taylor (End Sounds)
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GHOST MICE:
Europe: CD
I’m a sucker for concept albums (here the concept is their trip to Europe—hence the album title—and is divided geographically). I’m also a sucker for extras (and when I switched this from my headphones to my laptop, I found out just how many extras there were. It’s a lot). And, I’m also a sucker for Ghost Mice who give me the impression of a bunch of honest, not-so-young kids who like to play folk. So, as you can probably guess, I’m a bit of a sucker for this album.
–Megan Pants (Plan-It-X)
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GHOST MICE:
Europe: CD
I’m a sucker for concept albums (here the concept is their trip to Europe—hence the album title—and is divided geographically). I’m also a sucker for extras (and when I switched this from my headphones to my laptop, I found out just how many extras there were. It’s a lot). And, I’m also a sucker for Ghost Mice who give me the impression of a bunch of honest, not-so-young kids who like to play folk. So, as you can probably guess, I’m a bit of a sucker for this album.
–Megan Pants (Plan-it-x)
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GHOST MICE:
The Debt of the Dead: CD
Ghost Mice is two people – Chris and Hannah – playing simple folk punk songs, with some harmonica, accordion, and even mandolin thrown into the mix. I’m so conflicted about this. Some of the songs are great – especially “Lightning Blot,” which is about how one of their fathers, who works at a Catholic cemetery, got a pay cut because of the church’s financial problems after the recent church sex scandals. But then there’s songs like “Up the Punks,” which, although it does come with a disclaimer (“this song is not meant to be taken too seriously”), sounds like a parody of the folk punk genre, with lyrics like, “Well, just take a look around and I’m sure that you’ll agree that we’ve done a lot of things to improve community/like organizing protests and serving food not bombs/ sending books to all the prisoners that have been locked up for so long.” Ack! I think the main problem with this is that there are some cheezy lyrics, and then there’s just way too many lyrics, period. A lot of the better songs, like “The Pines,” have less lines and more music. If I could take this CD and make it into a 7”, it would be Corn Pops. Right now, it’s Boo Berry. I just don’t know!
–Maddy (Plan-it-X)
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GHOST MICE / BROOK PRIDEMORE:
Split: 7”
Brook Pridemore is outsider-sounding, weirdo folk by someone who I’d guess is not an outsider (considering their associations), but probably is a bit weird. Some vague but interesting lyrics here. Definitely worth a few spins. Ghost Mice, well, they’ve been doing their violin-driven posi-shoutfolk for a while and I just can’t get into it anymore. There was a time when this kind of stuff was refreshing and I’d listen to it even though it made me feel a bit goofy. But now it’s just too embarrassing. I feel bad talking this way and I think that the reason that I feel bad has a lot to do with why it’s embarrassing to listen to. It’s so nice and sweet that you want to buy into it and to get on their wagon, but you just can’t. Not for long anyway. What makes punk interesting is that it almost always presents at least some level of damage, a distrust, or a world-weariness that makes you trust what they’re trying to get over even if it’s really positive. You can tell they’ve suffered and weathered out these ideas. This is the redemptive quality that makes punk (as well as all good art) more powerful and transcendent than some wholesome, hippie “it’s all good” vibe. Now, I’m not calling these Ghost Mice hippies or saying they’re not punk. Nor am I accusing them of not suffering enough. I’m just saying that they’re not putting anything that I can use in the free box. These songs remind me of dating a rich girl. They’re super sweet and cute but annoying because they never show anger or bitterness. However, I’m sure they’re nice folks and wouldn’t try to manipulate you by paying for everything like the rich girl. Hell, they’re probably broke, too.
–Craven (Plan-It-X/Crafty)
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GHOST ORCHIDS:
Architecture: CDEP
A stellar release. From San Francisco, Ghost Orchids have shaken me up. So many things go through my head while listening to this five song EP. From love to musical references. Whether its the bits and pieces reminiscent of Subpoena the Past and the Cure, or goth rock dance hall nights, Ghost Orchids lures you with passion and weariness; nights where things have become a blurry, rainy out-of-control cloud of emotion. This is a record I frequently lay in my bed and listen to the rain hit the streets of my drab Midwestern town at night. Dancey tracks such as "Time-Lapse Sequence" and "Architecture in Surgery" will lure fans into the likes of Joy Division, New Order, and Radio Berlin onto the dancefloor. Classic groups, one soon to be, with shots of keyboards, and uber-haunting bass lines. If you aren't zoning out on the dance floor to these tracks, you must be making out in a dark booth somewhere. Whether it's a discreetly empty feeling instrumental that numbs, killer drama dance tracks, or bath-tub suicide – it's all covered here. A gem. –Sarah Stierch
–Guest Contributor (Global Symphonic)
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GHOST ROBOT NINJA BEAR:
Self-titled: CD
I showed this to my roommate and she looked at the name and said, “Well, at least they have all their bases covered.” And while the act has a stupid name, “they” is actually the vehicle of Oscar Albis Rodriguez, who some might remember from the indie rock/punk band Nakatomi Plaza. And as was the case with the final Nakatomi Plaza album, Ghosts, the music is a little mellower than the early full-out assaults heard on the band’s earlier works; there is very little screaming on the eight songs that make up the self-titled CD. Clocking in around twenty-seven minutes, from the first moment the songs have some good catches and hooks. Oscar has an endearing voice that runs somewhere between urgent and vulnerable. His guitar work helps drive the songs and the band on the album is competent and helps to fill out the sound. The harmonies occasionally utilized add a deeper layer to each of the songs. This is a solid debut from which to further Rodriguez’s “solo” career. Fans of Nakatomi Plaza should definitely check this out.
–Kurt Morris (self-released; ghostrobotninjabear.wordpress.com)
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GHOST TOWN ELECTRIC / DEFENDING THE KINGDOM:
Split: LP
GTE are all over the place. One song sounds like Zeke, another sounds like Converge, and there is a ballad in the mix, just for good measure. DTK offers up a seventeen-and-half-minute, three-part epic movement for their side of the LP. Some hardcore, some metal, and big rock all over the place. If a long, three-part song appeals to you, this would probably be something you’d like. Annoyingly, this record is 33 RPM on one side and 45 RPM on the other.
–Mike Frame (Cutthroat, myspace.com/cutthroatrecs)
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GHOSTLIMB:
Self-titled: CD
Driving, relentless hardcore that has no problem getting just a little tech with their guitars. Musicianship and production quality are all top notch, and they get a good number of style points on the impeccable medieval theme of the album art, but the font style is kind of at the expense of being able to read the lyrics. But, then again, my eyes aren’t so good, and sometimes I like to pretend I don’t even know how to read.
–Daryl Gussin (Gunslap, jason@graforlock.com)
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