Showing posts with label missouri. Show all posts
Showing posts with label missouri. Show all posts

Jan 16, 2019

DIMESACK Says God Says Fuck You LP

With an album title likely copped from the Electric Eels and a pissed off & stoned attitude that makes a t-shirt design like Pantera's fist and pot leaf motif seem like it is instead covered with fluffy bunnies, I'm pretty sure I would want to be standing too close to creepy rubber masked man Mr. Sack when his temper starts to flare.


Though he's only assisted by a drummer, it often sounds like a group of cavemen here, hell-bent on bloodshed and constantly thirsty for the taste of gasoline. Beats hammer the deep into the cranium with stealthy psychic pneumatics while guitar strings turn to razorwire, flaying flesh and tangling up intestines.

The very fine line between the differences of the bad spirits that infest the souls of frazzled blues-punk devils and those of highly satanic metalists becomes even more blurred. This record is like a clock sticking midnight and then the two signed a most malevolent of pacts. Many gawked it from a distance. They did not live to see the morning.
Get cursed at Blak Skul

Mar 3, 2017

WARM BODIES Domo 7inch EP

     How does something give the impression that it is tight and locked in as it can be also seem like it could explode and have parts fly off into a zillion direction at any given second?
     Perhaps that is a question that KCMO's Warm Bodies could answer. On the surface, the band puts down a churlish and opaque vibe that flys a classic Midwest punk rock flag high. From there though they jump off the flagpole and down into a pool filled with virulent things.
     "Turn Me Into Gel" and "My Face Fell Off" hyperspazz out on Devo moves but with a whole lot more rock out lead guitar licks and a heavy hand on the echo knob for the vocals. There are moments where both songs may get ya thinking of a femme vox'd Catholic Boys, but with less brutal jerks to the spine and neck but just a many throttles to the head.
     When the band slows the temple down, things aren't any calmer in the least. "At The Laundromat" start out like a buzz blast crawl of a Stooges song lumbering through deep space but once it hits the spin cycle an incensed agitation is noted all over the neighborhood. The weaving and spindly sounds on songs like "The Psychic Connection" may also bring out a slight thought of Public Image Limited's (Jah) wobbling at first but then the band takes another turn down some bumpy road where only they know they're headed. 
Neck Chop Records

Dec 8, 2016

KOOL 100S Skulls, Blood, Pussy And Violence Axes Daggers Upside-Down Crosses 7inch EP

     Ever pick up a punk rock record and see the words "Play Loud" printed somewhere on it? Does putting that one there act as an instruction manual for those who may not know or something? My first reaction is usually "Yeah! No shit, dude. It's a punk rock record. Not some Yanni CD."
     This single from Kansas City's Kool 100s doesn't have such a statement emblazoned anywhere on it. Doesn't need too. Even at a lower volume this thing blisters. A twelve string guitar is used on these three songs not for some kind of folky jangle or jazzbo bullfighting themes but to reinforce the blare and to double up on the disorienting and ear scorching.
     There's hooks all over these songs but they're all covered in a napalm gel. "Slow Boat" is a sunshine pop song being played by a pack of wolverines hellbent on giving everyone rabies while "Queer For Him" and "Trainwreck" wail some like wild ass caveman rock-n-roll designed for setting fire to hornets nests to. The longest track on this record, the less than 2 and a half "Healthy Dick", is like being dosed with a hit of acid and then whacked up side of the head with a sledgehammer.
     Play loud? Yeah, no shit, dude!
www.facebook.com/Goodbye-Boozy-records-290057827714548

Mar 17, 2016

SODA BOYS "Burger And Fries" 7inch

    The clock is edging towards lunchtime. I've been trying to eat healthy on consistent basis. Y'know, cutting back on things fried in fat and eaten from a paper bag. Like any vicethe fast food siren song starts and the growling gut adds in some harmonies. The itch for the cow and starch and salt and sugar get itchier. The stomach growl is turning into full on howling. Listening to this Soda Boys record at this time of the day perhaps wasn't the wisest idea of the day so far.
     Using the obvious metaphor of food=love (or to more specific =Hopefully scoring some poon) on the a-side "Burger and Fries" , this St. Louis combo (see what I did there) has the same type of artery clogging grease that ran though the veins of Rust Belt wisenheimers the Gizmos and a fueled by bacon fat bounce of the Gears. It' like a dose of KISS lunkheadedness at it's finest sketched by crossed-eyed Troggs at their horniest. After several listens I am starting to think that tape hiss isn't from some lo-fi recording situation but because the band had a griddle full of 100% all beef patties sizzling in front of them while the tape ran.
     The flip's "Doghouse" rocks the grease bin back and forth until it tips over. What oozes all over the parking lot is the kind of thing zit faced arcade rats would spew after a week of hearing Iggy & the Stooges Raw Power album fighting their way out of a pocket transistor radio.
floridasdying.com

Mar 16, 2015

The BRAINSTEMS "Ego Death Demos"

Photo: Daniel Hofmeister
    Starting off with a chiming guitar and a rumbling bass, "Stallioning" gets the ears prepping for they think is going to be some kind of pep pill addled slacker rock. A minute of ascending like a bottle rocket busting through an ozone made of the dust from some Grifters records and Parquet Courts residue, the song then fires up the propulsion with a blast of open headers roar that only lets up for the occasional one, two snap of the drums and the anfractuous ring of a guitar lead.
     The swarms of feedback that invade the opening of "The ID" push it to a point to make where almost skin crawls. Right before everything is going to snap the song dives head first into a trash bin of Sci-Fi Budget Rock and strangled saxaphone dance numbers.
      Starting off with bass line that sounds like it was taken from third generation duped cassette recording of some old new wave band's demo things turn bloody on "Elevators and Escalators" fairly quickly. Two guitars snarl band saw sounds at each other that may stem from an argument about whether it's Sonics or Swell Maps records sound even better played at 78 rpm's.
brainstems.bandcamp.com