Showing posts with label Slovenly. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Slovenly. Show all posts

Mar 4, 2016

CHOKE CHAINS s/t LP

     Thomas Jackson Potter has always been a part of some stellar rock-n-roll combos. There was his trifecta of bad ass drummers he had backing him up through his Bantam Rooster days, the punk rockers gone funk jokers in the Detroit City Council and, of course, his time on baritone guitar in the most crucial party band line up of the Dirtbombs. His latest gang of malcontents (Lindsay of No Bails on guitar, skinsman Chinese Millionaire Mark and some Ben Franklin looking cat who's background I don't know anything about but is a pretty rockin' dude on bass) may the mightiest one yet.
     Even if the album's lead off track "Safe Word" wasn't so claret splattered, it would still sound like guts flying everywhere. Potter's serving up his patented bloodcurdling holler while the band down-strokes madly like a spun too tight Cosmic Psychos.
     A demented AmRep/SubPop at their miscreant high points loom in a rock-n-roll swing on songs like the absolutely sinister "Moisture Technician", "She Collects Calendars" (a song which also raises the question "was the melody line slightly nicked from the title theme of Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill!?"), the sound of Devo herks-n-jerks being mutilated by sledgehammers on "Uptight" and the cruise town, burn rubber and flip off the cops when they pass by and out of the line of sight "Cosmic Shadow", "Cracked Dracula" and "Trinity Sue."
     The record is not all just totally punk scuzz bombs and dirt bag teenage fuzz mustache and sleeveless jean jacket jams though either. "Random Name Generator" finds blues getting strangled and left for dead down some totally creepy side street. Then along comes some sick pervert who fancies himself as a dive bar Bryan Ferry with an unhealthy obsession for the first two Psychedelic Furs albums on "Rock Paper Rapist" to gather up the pieces and take back the pieces and put in a jar to keep by his bedside table.
     Some dogs can be trained with a little tough love and a lot of work. Yanking hard on the leash though doesn't seem like it'll tame the rabidness here though.
www.facebook.com/chokechains

Dec 29, 2014

Smashin' Transistors Fave Albums of 2014

     Another year, another list. Never definitive but still throwing the hate in the ring for the sake of opinion. Some I got around to write about. Others I didn't. None the less here's the 20 albums, listed in alphabetical order, that seemed to be listened to and enjoyed the most around Smashin' Transistors Ground Zero in 2014.  
-Dale


The Achtungs Full Of Hate (Going Underground) Take standout tracks from the European band KBD/Bloodstains comps and put the blender on puree. Record it all (including the sound the blender makes.)
goingunderground.storenvy.com

Apache Dropout Heavy Window (Magnetic South) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

Brain Flannel Empty Set (Grave Mistake) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

DeGreaser Rougher Squalor (Ever/Never) Towering and dissonant psych. Not the flowers and sunshine psych but the kind that dwells in the darkest parts of the mind.
degreaser1.bandcamp.com

Gino and the Goons Shake It (Slovenly) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

Good Throb Fuck Off (Sabermetric) Soaked in venom and full of disdain.The sound of smashing the Poison Girls albums to bits and then reassembling it's jagged shards back together in a choppy (non) fashion.
goodthrob.tumblr.com

The Gotobeds Poor People Are Revolting (12XU) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

Honey Radar Chain Smoking On Easter (Third Uncle) Syd Barrett's ghost, Flying Saucer Attack's melancholy and Television Personalities whimsy leave magnetic tape dust all over the recording heads of this battered bit of 4-track know how.
honeyradar.com

Iceage Plowing Into The Field Of Love (Matador) J.G. Ballard writes a romance novel with the Bad Seeds The First Born Is Dead and a lot of heavy breathing in mind as an aural soundtrack. Then Gun Club steal the manuscript under the cover of night.
iceagecopenhagen.eu
Martyr Privates s/t (Fire) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

Meatbodies s/t (In The Red) Psychedelic pop that has one foot wiggling it's toes in the sand a sunny day at the beach and the other doing kicking at neon glowing brain monsters.
www.facebook.com/Meatbodies

Mordecai Neil's Generator (TestosterTunes) The disarrayed clatter that made the messes on Mordecai's first two albums has been swept into neat piles here. The fidelity is still blown and the music still ramshackle but the concept of obvious melodies now more digestible.
paperhose.tumblr.com

Musk s/t (Holy Mountain) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

No Bails Epyx Shredder (Pelican Pow Wow) Michigan scientists conducted a test on the effects a diet of 80s basic cable, food from greasy college town eateries, cases of Keystone Light and Cosmic Psychos records would have on a person. This album is their findings.
No Bails on Facebook

Obnox Louder Space (12XU) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

PYPY Pagan Day (Slovenly) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

Space Raft s/t (Dusty Medical) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

The Sugar Stems Only Come Out At Night (Dirtnap) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

Vacation Club Heaven Is Too High (Magnetic South) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

The Yolks Kings Of Awesome (Randy) Read Smashin' Transistors review here.

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

Feb 25, 2014

PYPY "Pagan Day" LP

     If they were to give out an award to people who have used the garage punk springboard to bounce off into many a different direction sound wise Montreal's Roy Vucino would sport one of the biggest blue ribbons in the planet.
     From the soul sprinkled and Slade stomp of the Daylight Lovers and Les Sexareenos drunken frat rock trash bashing to the CPC Gangbangs hard rockin' action and the fever dream frazzled sounds of Red Mass there has always been that something in the projects he is part of that take things if not at least to a higher level don't just simply rehash the the obvious things within the particular genre over and over again.
     His latest thing, PyPy, continues with that.
     Starting off with a downstroked and heavily distorted chugging like a train on jagged tracks, the album's namesake builds up a head full of steam til it explodes into a mess of guitar splatter. The noise gives singer Annie-Claude DeschĂȘnes (her of Duchess Says) the cue to lure listeners in with a flirtatious sneer telling tales while the band hammers away at a calamitous Velvet Underground "White Light/White Heat" goes space rock vibe.
     Some the tracks have more than a tinge of avant funk/dub reggae reminiscent of the Slits and the No Wave scene to them. "New York" Roy and Annie trade off lines over an replete with wrung out chicken scratch guitar piece that wobbles then propels into head first in overdrive trashing for a bit before it returns to a woozy groove. "Daffodils" fools the listener at first thinking the song is simply gonna let them bob their head in some type of stoned zone til a roar similar to jet engines shreds eardrums to ribbons while "Too Much Cocaine" takes the same basic ingredients too and makes it much more antsy inducing spasmodic dance moves all over the room.
      The song most likely to appease the folks are are looking for the standard "garage rock" thing here would most like be "Molly" and "Ya Ya Ya/Psychedelic Overlords". The former is all fuzzed out guitar buzzing over the place as well as something sinister lurking right underneath the surface of Annie's voices but since it doesn't ape the Troggs or Chuck Berry they may write if off as art rock. It's their loss if they do though.
     The latter, with a sideways reference to a Hawkwind song in it's title, may go over their heads but then again I think a lot of those types are even oblivious to the fact that anymore only douchebags like Guy Fieri are ones left who wear bowling shirts with flames on them. The flames this song is about are the type a flying saucer would make after it slams into the surface of the earth taking a small town with it.
     Sure, we're only 8 weeks in to 2014 but I am going to go out on a limb and say already that this is one of my favorite albums of this year.
www.slovenly.com