Aug 31, 2015
"Two Mice" hazy chugs moves like the band is having a breakfast of fried chicken with a side of Chuck Berry and cocaine. It's a shabby countryfied blues groove has a certain sway but is tempered to keep from breaking too much of a sweat. If these guys ever visit New York City, they'll go on a hunt for those Puerto Rican girls they heard Mick Jagger banging on about that are dying to meet just so they can see if they really do bring a case of wine with them.
The flip's "P.P.O.D." turns the fuzz knob up a bit, stomps the floor a bit stirs some drinks that's is ingredient thick on the Last's "L.A. Explosion" album and the first couple of Black Lips singles.
Aug 30, 2015
Another hour excursion into the music stacks here at Smashin' Transistors. This time around we have solid gold from the Swell Maps, Laughing Hyenas and Jessie Mae Hemphill. We've also got future hits from Phylums. C.C.T.V., Swiftumz and Royal Headache. A bunch of swell sounds in between too!
Aug 28, 2015
On their Facebook page it says these guys hometown is Hamburg/Dublin. Whether they are really from both is yet to be determined but the sound they make is a cross the former, circa the hopped up on prellies Brit beat bands that played the Reeperbahn in the early 60s, with dabs of the latter's early punk rock with hooks vibe a la Radiators From Space.
Taking into consideration that the band's chosen name was also one that an early incarnation of the Mersybeats used, the former comes into play overall in the high geared R-n-B delivery of the four songs here but instead of, say where a band like the Kaisers did it way too purist and made me think I was listening to a rock-n-roll version of Civil War reenactors, the Pacifics seem to not worry if they get their clothes dirty and stained.
The a-side's sprightly, floor filling pop detonation "Say You Love Me" and the garage punk stompin' "Little Girls" would sound just as in place, if not more, on the Spaceshits first album or some drunken' Real Kids live bootleg, as they would in some roots of the British Invasion documentary.
On the flip, "Girl, Girls Girls" wrings every bit of sweat from harmonica slathered Animals and Them songs and make something a bit more trashy than your usual juvenile delinquent 60s white kid blues in the process. They wrap up the party by trying to see if they can cause an avalanche in the Alps with the Freak Beatly/Surfish intro/screamer "Bavaria Bop."
Aug 27, 2015
The one faction dreams of playing the Warped Tour or some other big brand sponsored "fest" where getting showered in free sneakers, glow in the dark condoms and beard care products is a crucial part of their pay. The other gets kicked out of such events for carrying flammable materials and boxes of strike anywhere matches.
The one side spends countless hours in the studio, crafting parts that sound like they are part of a math formula and then pile on a bunch of post production wizardry to convey some bullshit "we're so fucking heavy" sound. The other simply has someone set up some mics so they blasts through a few chords and full out rage all the through.
One straight faced declares themselves post hardcore when asked what kind of music they play (probably because saying Algebra Metal with a whiny guy whining and a grunting guy grunting is too much of a mouthful) while the other probably just says they're punk rock.
Oakland, California's Violence Creeps is in the latter group.
The clanging chords and cardboard box drums that come immediately crashing out on the "Sex Menace" sound like nine year olds learning how to downstroke chords while obsessing over Sonic Youth's Bad Moon Rising. Then it's collapses into nervy, clunking basslines and scratchy guitars which give a sparse but harsh backdrop for singer Amber Feigel's hoarse bark to shove razor wire through the listeners ear and pull it out the other. As it heats up things start to splatter for a crescendo of striking cobras and electrical shocks. "Drop Out" then drops in for minute or so of blurry speed.
A stuttery and stunted martial beat and a riff that resembles throwing a copy of Black Flag's In My Head on the floor so a lard slathered Ted Falconi can roll around on it. Then a ghost of someone who died of a lung infection trying to master Steve MacKay's sax lines on the Stooges Funhouse shows up with some some acid that is guaranteed a bad trip. It ends up sounding like the b-side's "On My Turf."
Aug 15, 2015
My solution? Doing pretend ones for the internet only! Dig the first of what may become many Smashin' Radio Transistors Digest.
Aug 14, 2015
Gurgling over with psychosis and sticky glops of camp, the bashin' about on some punk rock blues in tracks like "Be Home Before Dark" with it's hissing back up vocals seeming more like catty taunts, the spun way too tight boogie that's "Too Cute" and the reverberated head stomp that "Popping Bubbles" puts down resemble the Oblivians after spending a week hanging out with Japanese noise rock bands.
At other times, such as squeeze box flourished chewy bop bouncer "What's Inside Your Lunchbox", the way the guitar on "Toy Gun" swirls like a thrash riff swimming in a birthday cake flavored vodka stupor and the B52s if they dug proto-metal more than surf music vibe on "Life's A Drag Queen", it's something like they're an AmRep band sustaining on a diet of cotton candy.
Probably knowing all too well what goes on at the sideshow after the carnival closes for the evening, Mr. Clit & the Pink Cigarettes make a filth coated cacophony that has rats thinking twice before they go sniffing around the sewer these sounds spill into.
Wet-Willy is going to spend at least a good few months in my "GET DRUNK AND PLAY LOUD" pile.