Welcome to Razorcake | DIY Punk Music | Punk Bands | Punk Rock Bands | Punk Magazine Welcome to Razorcake | DIY Punk Music | Punk Bands | Punk Rock Bands | Punk Magazine
 

























· 1:Punk Parenthood for the Sleep Deprived XII
· 2: Tear A Cognita #07: Minneapolis, Minnesota
· 3:Louis Jacinto Photo Column - Patti Smith
· 4:Featured Book Reviews from Issue #91
· 5:A Tribute to John Stabb


Subscriptions
Renewal
New Subscriptions
Stickers and Buttons
Gift Subscription


Spokenest, Gone, Gone, Gone LP
Pinned In Place, Ghostwritten By LP
Razorcake #91
Razorcake Embroidered Patch
Ghostbot Records Bundle *Get it!!!!


Can't find Razorcake at your favorite store? Lend us a hand and we'll send you a free issue.



Razorcake will send you one free issue if you ask your librarian if they would carry Razorcake in their stacks. (This offer is good for both traditional libraries and independent libraries.) To get the free issue, you must send us the librarian's name and email and the library's postal address. We will then contact them directly and donate a subscription to them. U.S. libraries only, due to postage.

Imprint Indie Printing

Record Reviews

1 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 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64

| 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

MEMPHIS MORTICIANS:
1,000,000 Delinquents: CD
NYC’s Memphis Morticians can do no wrong—reliable, good fun that never disappoints, reminiscent of the Devil Dogs. The only departure on this album from their usual loose, trashy garage/American psychobilly mix is “Spook Factor,” which reminds me of the Guana Batz. There are only seven tracks, and they’re all standouts. –thiringer (Space Hearse, memphismorticians.com)


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 (Hot Stack)


MEMPHIS RADIO KINGS:
Four: CD
Less emphasis on a country twang here than on their previous release, but they’re still heavily mining early-‘80s Slash Records alt-rock land, with more than a slight nod to later Replacements. For what it is, it ain’t too shabby. –jimmy (www.memphisradiokings.com)


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 (Hot Stack)


MEN FROM S.P.E.C.T.R.E.:
Burnout for Davie: 7"
Instrumental '60s rock. –jimmy (www.sheeprecords.com)


MEN FROM S.P.E.C.T.R.E.:
Burnout for Davie: 7"
Instrumental '60s rock. –jimmy (Sheep Records)


MEN, THE:
We Are the Men: 12"
This record is leaving me a bit perplexed. It has some good qualities—blown-out guitars, solid rhythm section, incomprehensible vocals, a song called “Sketchy Pussy.” It also has some not-so-good qualities—riffs that are too repetitive and predictable, and a song called “The Man” that has a crappy intro and sentimental, emo vocal tone. I can’t tell if they aspire to Brainbombs heights or Promise Ring’s first album lows. It’s time for a band meeting, The Men, where you can sort out your sonic direction and move forward accordingly. Until then, the jury is out (and listening to Mayyors). –benke (Self-released, wearethemen.blogspot.com)


MENACE:
Crisis: CD
The Menace were kind of a second tier oi band, never really getting as popular as Cocksparrer or the Business, but they did have a hit song in the mid-seventies with “GLC” (which is a killer song and I imagine it probably means more in England now, if I can trust the news I read about England and Tony Blair these days). Anyway, rather than falling into the metal trap that so many oi bands fell into in the eighties, Menace broke up and went back to work. With the renewed popularity of oi, Menace came back, re-releasing their big songs, “GLC” and “Society’s Insane,” and some new ones, like “Society’s Still Insane.” So they weren’t really growing and expanding musically, but it’s solid, sincere music. The songs are really cool working class anthems, smart and simple politics, and thick Cockney accented vocals. I’ve actually got a couple of these songs on seven inches from Europe, but most of these songs are new to me and would probably be new to you. And believe me when I say that this Menace album kicks ass all over the newest Business and Cocksparrer releases. –sean (Captain Oi)


MENACE:
Punk Singles Collection: CD
Some things I learned about Menace by listening to this CD: 1) They actually go back to 1977. Dunno why it never occurred to me that they would have roots that friggin’ deep. In truth, I figured they made the scene around 1979 or so, after Sham made their big splash. 2) According to their website, they actually predate Sham 69. Go fuggin’ figure. I always though it was the other way around, as evidenced by the end of the previous number. 3) Their singles have remained consistently good slices of bootboy punk, from the first to the most recent featured here. All the hits are present, including “GLC,” “Screwed Up,” “Insane Society,” and it’s not out of the realm of possibility that you will find many more tunes you’ve never heard to love over the course of listening to this. One of the best, these guys were, and are due the reverence they receive here. –jimmy (Captain Oi)


MENACE:
Rogue's Gallery: CD
Pretty by-the-numbers pub-punk from these onetime GLC haters. While they never come within the neighborhood of the intensity of their early work, it ain’t bad as far as “classic band gives it another go” releases go. Their lyrics remain street-level political without getting preachy and there are enough hooks here to keep your average Cock Sparrer fan listening. Smart move getting the vocalist from Resistance 77 to front the band, too. –jimmy (Captain Oi)


MENACE:
Crisis: CD
The Menace were kind of a second tier oi band, never really getting as popular as Cocksparrer or the Business, but they did have a hit song in the mid-seventies with “GLC” (which is a killer song and I imagine it probably means more in England now, if I can trust the news I read about England and Tony Blair these days). Anyway, rather than falling into the metal trap that so many oi bands fell into in the eighties, Menace broke up and went back to work. With the renewed popularity of oi, Menace came back, re-releasing their big songs, “GLC” and “Society’s Insane,” and some new ones, like “Society’s Still Insane.” So they weren’t really growing and expanding musically, but it’s solid, sincere music. The songs are really cool working class anthems, smart and simple politics, and thick Cockney accented vocals. I’ve actually got a couple of these songs on seven inches from Europe, but most of these songs are new to me and would probably be new to you. And believe me when I say that this Menace album kicks ass all over the newest Business and Cocksparrer releases. –sean (Captain Oi)


MENACE:
London Stories: CD
These U.K. punkers are back with a new full length that bristles with energy and delivers on the promise of their earliest singles. “Vote Punk Rock” and the title track are standouts on this one. Fiery guitars, pounding drums, and rousing vocals make this a classic return to form. Highly recommended. –Aaron Zonka (Self-released, menace.punk@yahoo.co.uk)


MENEGUAR:
I Was Born at Night: CDEP
This is by far my favorite review this month. Driving, angular, indie post-rock. Thick bass and jagged guitars that soar at times. From NYC, this four-piece remind me of Gang of Four, At the Drive-In, the Fall, early Interpol—and therefore Joy Division—and Dinosaur Jr. One string guitar solos are where it’s at. This EP is worth a listen. –Buttertooth (Magicbullet)


MENEGUAR:
Strangers in Our House: CD
I used to get Meneguar and Japanther confused, but having finally heard Meneguar, I will definitely remember them now. This second full-length from the New York band is a fun mix of indie rock and power pop. All the music has a real upbeat tone to it; there’s nothing to bring you down or make you feel depressed. Like a solid pop punk album, there’s a good amount of hooks and catchiness, but without a wanky sound (both production-wise and with more backbone to the music) attributed to much of that genre. And if you’re familiar with the kind of material Troubleman has released before, it is a good fit with the rest of the catalog. It’s a serious work, though, and is a solid release. It’s not going to change the face of music, but it’s definitely worth a listen and probably a spot in your collection. –kurt (Troubleman Unlimited)


MENSEN:
Oslo City: CD
I’m not in a band, but if I were, I’d be intimidated as hell by all these Scandinavian bands who, as a rule, play their instruments way better than most Americans. Then, Mensen comes along and proves that, not only do Scandinavians kick our ass, but Scandinavian women do. OsloCity is the follow up to Delusions of Grandeur, which was a near perfect album that was only soiled by the Rolling Stones cover at the end. OsloCity is not so soiled. Not only is it full of rock’n’roll that’s so laden with hooks and energy that it’s impossible to listen to without shaking at least one part of your body, but I no longer have to scramble to shut off my stereo at the first few notes of “Jumping Jack Flash.” It’s an amazing album. If you’ve ever asked yourself, what would the Hives sound like if Penelope Houston from the Avengers sang for them? You could pick up this Mensen album and answer yourself with a good, solid, who gives a fuck? –sean (Gearhead)


MENSEN:
Delusions of Grandeur: CD
I think “mensen” is the Norwegian word for “girls who rock.” At least it will be. Mensen dish out fast and fun rock’n’roll songs. The singer sounds a bit like Penelope from the Avengers, but the music behind her is trashy and tight, more like the Hives or the Burnouts or a lot of the punk rock coming out of Scandanavia these days. The lyrics are sung in English with a heavy accent and I can understand them about half of the time, but it doesn’t matter. I keep listening to this album and enjoying it. It puts me in a good mood. The only caveat is that they cover a Rolling Stones song, and that’s really, really annoying. Luckily, though, it’s the last song, so you can just stop the album when that song comes on. Other than that, it’s a really good CD. –sean (Gearhead)


MENTALLY ILL:
Gacy's Place: 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 (Alternative Tentacles)


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 (Alternative Tentacles)


MENTALLY ILL, THE:
Gacy’s Place: 7” EP
I’ve waxed poetic about this band before, when Alternative Tentacles released its anthology, of sorts, which also featured the tracks contained herein, but enough praise cannot be heaped on this band’s magnum opus. The lyrics are simple, the playing even simpler, and the guitar sounds like a live wire being zapped through a barely functioning transistor radio speaker, but the delivery is what makes this a classic slab of psychosis-drenched punk from a group that sounds like they’re just this side of fucking losing it altogether and stabbing a few people for shits ‘n’ giggles. The packaging of this repress aims to recreate the original packaging, so you get a nice pic of the titular serial killer posing with former first lady Rosalynn Carter (one that is real, not diced together in some pre-Photoshop attempt at partisan character assassination) on one side of the cover and (most of) the lyrics on the other. If yer some kinda CD snob but can’t afford the silly sums an original copy fetches these days, vital doesn’t come close to describing this. –jimmy (Last Laugh)


MENTALLY ILL, THE:
Strike the Bottom Red: LP
Yes, this is indeed THAT Mentally Ill, the mysterious pack of psychopaths responsible for the brilliant 1979 Gacy’s Place EP. This is a reissue, so far as I can deduce, of an LP they recorded with Albini at the knobs, self-released back in 1999 and didn’t include on the Alternative Tentacles retrospective a few years back. Two songs from aforementioned EP, “Padded Cell” and “Tumor Boy,” are redone here alongside charmingly titled ditties like “Doggie Sex,” “Bathroom Gays,” and “Wrinkled Star,” to name a few, as well as a cover of the Modern Lovers’ “Pablo Picasso.” While the crisp production values temper the immediacy that made their debut so infectious, the band itself more than makes up for it in sheer weirdness, with quasi-choir backup vocals, saxophones, and all kinds of odd shit popping up here and there, all the while keeping things “punk” but approaching that moniker with a sound as inimitable as the Butthole Surfers, No Trend, and like-minded trailblazers. Fuggin’ great, this is. –jimmy (Last Laugh)


MENTHOLS:
848: 7”
The Menthols want to play your party. “848” is a rambler, plodding along in a good way, reminiscent of The Spits’ dickaround stuff. “Hey Hey Hey” is more garagey, rough on the vocals, mild on the rock. Doesn’t blow you away but pretty easy to hum along to. –mike (Florida’s Dying)


MENTHOLS, THE:
Miracle Slips: 7”
These guys aren’t too definable—on the last single I thought they were good dick-around rockers like some of the wanking moments of The Spits, but this single is better than the last. “Miracle Slips” is a great rocker, sludging along. “Rats and Insects” is a little more of a meandering garage jam, pretty cool too—more messy. When it gets down to it, if these guys are playing a basement near you, it’s worth driving around to find it. –mike (UFO Dictator)


MENTHOLS, THE:
Michigan Works: LP
I tried and tried, but I couldn’t think of a negative thing to say about this record. About thirty-three minutes of heady garage spread across nine tracks on twelve inches of vinyl. It has adrenaline without testosterone and jams without tie-dye. It’s some rad-as-fuck rock’n’roll. This shit kills it. Every note on here is quality, all with a hypnotic allure, all lacking any hint of pretension. Whether you are out on the town, on a drive, or just sitting around, this record will undoubtedly make you think you are much cooler than you are. Five hundred of these exist; you should get one. –Vincent Battilana (UFO Dictator)


MENTORS:
Over the Top: CD
If Courtney Love is coherent enough these days to be creeped out by anything, then this CD is sure to give her a bad case of the willies. Now, saying that the mother of little Francis Bean would be creeped out by this band might seem hardly newsworthy since, as pretty much everybody knows, the Mentors creep out almost all sane females. Tipper Gore, circa her PMRC days, might be the most famous example of a female who was profoundly put off her lunch by El Duce and the boys. But what’s bound to unnerve Ms. Love, more than the Mentors’ X-rated titty-clitty rhyming schemes and the oafish Male Chauvinist Pigotry, is the disembodied presence on Over the Top of El Duce himself. For those of you not in the know, El Duce was the original frontman/buffoon/bozo laureate of the Mentors and he cut a figure something along the lines of the Benny Hill of scum punk-metal. He was fat, toadish, and oftentimes drunk off his ass, and his leering pervert persona seemed to be made that much more genuine by virtue of a pair of bugged out eyes provided to him by a case of Grave’s Disease. If you could somehow cross GG Allin with Russ Meyer with a stack of Hustler cartoons, you’d be getting close to classic El Duce territory. Thing is, is that right about the time that El was really enjoying his growing notoriety, something in his head—possibly the alcohol-soaked neurons—made him start shooting his mouth off about how Courtney Love had offered him $50,000 to whack her husband at the time, Kurt Cobain. And it wasn’t long after shooting his mouth off that poor El danced with a moving train on his way home from the liquor store one day and wound up smeared across the railroad tracks like100 proof strawberry preserves. And it wasn’t too long after that, that some of the more cynically-minded among rock’n’roll insiders dared suggest that Courtney Love had Francis Bean lure the drunken, horny blabbermouth onto the tracks and into the path of the speeding locomotive. Whether it really went down that way or not is anyone’s guess. All I know for sure is that if Courtney didn’t have a problem having someone kill a big celebrity like Kurt Cobain, she sure as hell wouldn’t have a problem having someone kill a scurrilous bum like El Duce. Which brings me back to my original point: if Ms. Love really was responsible for doing in El Duce, then the sounds burned into the grooves of Over the Top (the first ever Mentors’ release without El Duce) are likely to provide her with her own ghastly little trip into the Twilight Zone. You see, as Courtney and Francis Bean and everyone knows, El is supposed to be well dead; his decaying meat suit long since converted into an underground Disney World for various microbes, ants, and worms and whatnot. But if you didn’t know any better you’d swear it’s him, the original El Duce, singing on this new record. The official line is, I’m sure, that this “El Rapo” guy supposedly singing these new songs is merely an eerily similar sounding replacement, sorta like how the second Darren was eerily similar to the first Darren back on the old Bewitched TV series. But how do we know that Sickie Wifebeater and Heathen Scum haven’t spent the years since El’s “convenient elimination” honing their Ouija board skills, somehow managing to channel the spirit of their old lead singer from beyond the grave and convincing him to belt out a few more tunes? I have been lucky enough to have had several drunken phone conversations with Sickie and I can tell you that he is something of a necromancer and he is possessed of certain dark and extra-mundane skills beyond those he displays on the electrified guitar. But if it really is the recorded sounds of El broadcasting from the Great Beyond, it would seem that the one thing that doesn’t transfer all that well from the one realm to the other is his trademark sense of humor. I guess, considering all the gunk like ether and ectoplasm that can clog up inter-worldly transmissions, it’s little surprise something might get lost along the way. It’s just too bad that it was his inimitable stupid/clever sense of humor. The truth is: any one of the tracks on this disc could easily be slipped into a mix of old Mentors’ tunes without anyone noticing—they are that true to the classic Mentor sound. And the voice truly sounds like El Duce, whether it’s piped in from some netherworld or just this new “El Darren” guy. But the twisted porno booth humor just isn’t as twisted as when El was fully animated in his boozy flesh suit. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of amusing bits throughout Over the Top. Like the song “Inches of Three,” for example, my personal favorite among the crop of new songs. And any way you cut it, OTT is leagues above the flatulent dreck being pumped out by some uninspired Mentors-wannabe like Anal Blast. This really is a very solid comeback effort and a damn good album to boot. In fact, it’s a lot better than I’m probably making it sound here in this review. I guess I’m just realizing how much I miss ol’ Eldon Hoke. Having a band with El Duce as your frontman is definitely an example of catching white lightning in a bottle. This CD is proof of that. –aphid (Mentors, www.churchofelduce.com)


MENTORS:
Oblivion Train: 7"
The blurb on the back says the recordings here date from 1977 and, if true, it’s pretty clear the Mentors were well entrenched in their later shtick very early on—“Oblivion Train,” an ode to drinkin’, is similar in style to their later hit “Get Up and Die,” while the flip, “Cornshucker,” regales with tales of shenanigans in a brothel. Sound is very-good-demo quality, the front cover looks like they were aiming for a “Sub Pop Singles Club” look, and nice pics of the boys (including one of a comparatively thin El Duce) as fresh-faced degenerates grace the back. This is definitely a must for any fan. –jimmy (Stool Sample)


1 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 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64

| 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 >

Razorcake Podcast Player



·For Weeks Above the Umbrella
·PEOPLE’S TEMPLE, THE
·CARGO CULT
·Under the Radar: Notes from the Wild Mushroom Trade
·GUT REACTIONS
·JUGGLING JUGULARS
·SMALL ARMS DEALER
·LOTS OF ROT #2
·COMMIES, THE


Black and Red Eye



If you live in the Los Angeles area and want to help us out, let us know.



Get monthly notifications of new arrivals and distro and special offers for being part of the Razorcake army.



 
Razorcake/Gorsky Press, Inc.
PO Box 42129
Los Angeles, CA 90042

Except for reviews, which appear in both, the
contents of the Razorcake website are completely
different from the contents of Razorcake Fanzine.

© 2001-2015 Razorcake/Gorsky Press, Inc. Privacy Policy

Razorcake.org is made possible in part by grants from
the City of Los Angeles, Department
of Cultural Affairs and is supported
by the Los Angeles County Board of
Supervisors through the Los Angeles
Arts Commission.
Department of Cultural AffairsLos Angeles County Arts Commission


Web site engine code is Copyright © 2003 by PHP-Nuke. All Rights Reserved. PHP-Nuke is Free Software released under the GNU/GPL license.