Showing posts with label Florida. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Florida. Show all posts

Jul 8, 2019

CURLEYS s/t 7inch EP

It's no secret that the state of Florida has a reputation for having some, let's say, colorful and interesting residents. But is the whole "Florida Man" thing is an unfair stereotype? Are there really shirtless/toothless knuckledraggers and poorly tattooed and sun sagged cuckoo birds on every corner?

If trying to prove such as the above is something sets out to do, this debut single from Gainesville's Curleys will not be of results they desire. Crammed with six songs on a 7inch slab, each track is a conniption of its own wig-outness.

Inflamed with a guitar line that sounds as if it laser guided by mutants, the record's opener "Johnny" will get some listeners thinking "Is this some kind of  art trip or should I call the authorities for the sake of everyone's safety."


Slamming right into the record's next blast, "Lid's Loose", won't soothe any of those doubts either. Its choppy cadence bites hard and jagged and also resembles a tantrum inspired chant someone might stomp about to while braiding the wicks of thirty M-80's all together before sticking them into a coffee can and striking a match.


There's no letting up on side two of the record, "Bragging" launches like a nitro powered train departing berserk station. It's as if there is not really any intention of reaching a destination but throwing lots sparks off grinding rails and causing random decapitations of anything that gets in the way is. Just a couple minutes and few songs later, annihilation is complete with "Goro" splatting like a blood filled insect against a speeding semi truck's windshield.

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Jul 26, 2015

GOLDEN PELICANS "Oldest Ride, Longest Line" LP

     Many centuries ago when punk rock arrived in my neighborhood (more than a few years after even the rest of the rust belt had an idea of what it was) those of us who got into it figured we needed to break away from the other things we had be listening up til that point. 
     Being that we intermediate school kids at the time with a flair of drama we just didn't stash them away in the back of a closet or throw then in the trash. Nope, we had to make a big deal of it. We all gathered down at the river as a group, made a little speech and then winged them into a tributary that leads into Lake Huron. 
     "Off with you" we yelled as sent KISS and other lunkheaded discs sailing into the muddy river. We didn't care about any environmental concerns that they may cause. That Eco-concious stuff was hippie shit.
     Some years later, I did wonder where those albums may have ended up. Perhaps, they reached the ocean eventually washed ashore somewhere. And perhaps this bunch of punk rock insurrectionists outta Orlando, Florida escaped town for a day or two on an Atlantic beach coast where it just so happened the waves pushed those records right to their feet. They picked them up and threw them in the back of their car because, well, they were free records. Once they got home and put them on the record player the covered in silt and fish guts and chewed and crusty from the salt water surfaces gave power chords blasts and dunderhead yowling gave off a tore up and bent sensation they couldn't resist.
     Beer soaked and stinking of the fast food sweat indigenous of the city that's the world's largest tourist trap, the Golden Pelicans punk does shy from throwing around glops hard rock mush in their world of feculence but they also manage not moving into RAWK's trailer park while doing so. There ain't no foot on the monitor to check out a stuffed crotch or hair waggin' antics going on here. Just straight up crankin'.
     Rooted in a Dictators blast of junk culture where they would live for cars and girls if they didn't have bad luck with both and who's idea of flash is shooting bottle rockets at anyone with a frown and their arms crossed at their shows, the Golden Pelicans kick off this latest slab with "Knuckle Dragger." It's primate beat stomps up dust and those knuckles aren't scraping across the dirt too long because they're now fists pumpin' in the air to accentuate their singing along to their new cretin anthem. 
     Actually all the songs, especially "Maggots" belly-smacker dive into a cesspool splash, the parched howls over super rock oozing with pus riffage on "Hog Tied Down" and "Low Falutin'',  "The Last Street Fighter" setting a scene where the Lazy Cowgirls get into a rumble with Twisted Sister and the "Having a horrible time, wish I was drunk" postcard sentiments of the title track set the mood for any keg party where a picnic table gets set on fire.
http://floridasdying.com

Dec 26, 2014

GINO and the GOONS "Shake It" LP

     Back in the days when variety shows were a staple on television there would be some dancer type that would come out on occasion and do some scene where their moves looked all clumsy and/or drunk. They were some pretty grand moves and were done for laughs. Watching at home there would always be a grandma who would state the obvious to everyone else who was gathered around the TV by saying something like "It is just an act but only a great dancer like himself can do moves like that to make us believe he is half in the bag and has two left feet."
     The last couple of years or so there has been a new wave of lunkhead themed punk rock bands. Simple and straight-ahead two or three chords (and a the rare fourth if the songs reaches past the two and a half minute point) and lyrics that intentionally border on being a parody of your standard punk rock song topics.
     The thing is though to pull it off and make songs that are worth repeated listens, a band has to be a quite a bit  more clever than they are letting on.
     On the surface, Florida's Gino and the Goons distilling the high points of the mid 90s to early 00s brain rattled by Chuck Berry/Ramones/Little Richard/Stones garage punk is some of the most valiant being belligerent enough to be kicked out of every in town kind of rock-n-roll since, well, the mid 90s and early 00s, fit right into that.
     The thing is though scratch at the big dummy veneer and it's learned that this isn't just another trio of lamebrains. The band totally knows what they are doing.
     Three big blasts of a power chord on the record's opener "Got The Skinny" drop you onto beer stinky  floor that makes your knees go one way and your hips go the other. Gino's raspy swagger bellowing about some of shifty folks he's met and what the world's got him doing ("not eating cuz' I'm so damn depressed") sounds celebratory in a still being able to wake up in the morning and make it through the day kinda way. His guitar blast and the Goons set down a serious beat & rhythm and drop gang harmonies and woos wherever warranted.
     Tracks like "Baby Doll", "Can't Get Away With Murder" and "Check This Out" show that the band attended multiple weekly services of the Church of Thunders at some point in their life. The first former, a way less blurry eyed and much more determined Heartbreakers blaster, takes the "my girl so fine" cliches and uses the again but they're rearranged in a cunning way that makes ya think "Damn, she must REALLY be a fine one" and a laugh to boot. The two latter are trash blues grinds that answers the question "What if someone combined the the New York Dolls with the Oblivians? And they did it right?!"
     It's should be noted that the calling out "KICK DRUM" for a break on "I Don't" has lead me to shouting the same thing anytime someone tells me a cool rock-n-roll story. The album closers with firecrackers getting thrown into a bucket of slime "Sex, Drugs & Paranoia". You'll think about it next time you're at the ATM.
www.slovenly.com

Apr 16, 2013

COP CITY/CHILL PILLARS "Hosed" LP

     Spongy! That's it.
     Weird squishy things soaking up weird squishy things.Things that give a person bad dreams. The kind of thing people wish don't swim up by them. Trailed by an ooze that looks used motor oil. With clumps of hair and cucumber peels floating in.
     Wobbly too! Very wobbly. The squishiness brings on a seasick feeling. Out of phase guitar line wiggle flanged out scrawls of gurgling lost somewhere between some flick from long ago where they would tell the viewer "Welcome To The Future" and the scene that plays in the head in high school when it is found out that those 4 really weird guys with bacon greased chin and forehead zits, hunched backs and constant large stains on every piece of clothing that the own have a band.
     Those old Sci-Fl films were just guessing what robot making music would sound like. It was all analog. The had no idea about midi and the perfect timed mechanical beat. They assumed we'd all be living on Mars. They thought robots would sound like trained monkeys running on car batteries or atomic power. The 4 really weird guys practiced really hard at learning tunes by Rainbow and even though they thought they sounded really spot on-everyone else was wondering if they were intentionally trying to sound like the Residents with sincere but inept rock chops.
     Cop City/Chill Pillars sound like the spent a lot of time listening to both of the above along with the band Parcheesi (y'know the band who shipped platinum with "I Didn't Know She Was A Midget" from The Men Who Make The Music. Rob the Man from Big Entertainment said they were hot.) Either that or they're just trying to make world music but it comes out all unworldly. Repetitious chants, blurting saxes, mucous laden synth lines. It may disturb some and make others feel queasy. These Orlando, Fla weirdos wouldn't have it any other way. 
www.floridasdying.com

Feb 20, 2013

GOLDEN PELICANS "Hard Head" 7inch

     With a name like the Golden Pelicans a some things come to mind. Firstly, regional soul bands of the 60's had names similar to it. There were always ones with names like the Incredible Macaws, The Silver Excitements or the Platinum Flamingos.
     Another thing it conjures of an impression of is the name of a bowling league team of some Michigan retirees on snowbird time in Florida or the awesome and/or retarded name of a high school mascot.
     Dropping the needle on the record it is quickly learned there is no post street corner doo-wop/Northern Soul/Funky Broadway thing going on. The band is from Florida though but they don't sound like pensioners throwing gutters and spares.
     That leaves is the awesome and/or retarded thing.
     The tunes here made by some of those party crashing lunkheads, the Slippery Slopes, who bummed out your average Ramones loving/good time having agenda punks by claiming "Pizza, I'm Against It"-antsy and obnoxious is the name of the game. Thinking something like the Candy Snatcher with a bit less Misfits bootlicking (little bellowing-much more shouting), many more times getting kicked out of the all you can eat buffet for eating up all the fried chicken and tossing the bones at the retirees and just as much, if not more, stolen intoxicants the two doses of trashy TOTAL PUNK rock will make any kegger/pool party bash could get the cops to show up no matter how far out in the sticks it may be happening at.
http://floridasdying.com