Fucking do not and will notever understand this love for insincere bands that are only there as a "so-bad-it's-good" joke for anything more than a personal thing amongst (and for) friends.
It's not that I don't get behind stuff that was intentionally humorous when it comes to performing acts, but for fuck's sake, it's not a new idea and people have done it before—
Only those people also happened to leave us with music people still actually enjoy, without having to hide behind the forced detachment of "irony," or the pretentiousness of being "avant-garde"!
Although they, too, were praised by the pretentious, mainstream rock had Frank Zappa and Devo (although they were just incorporating humor into amazing music, not just having a laugh), hardcore had Nig Heist, post-punk had the Butthole Surfers, alt-rock had They Might Be Giants...
The difference was, we were also still left with music you could get behind, and not have to challenge yourself to enjoy just to keep up with the people around you; music that was memorable, and enjoyed for many years later, not just laughed at (not with) by anyone who wasn't in on the joke.
Hearing modern acts that produce this stuff, for me, feels like trying to breathe oatmeal, to the point where nearly any form of sincere music feels like the relief of an emergency tracheotomy. What's so difficult about "taking the piss" and giving something back of non-fleeting value?
The opposite of this is what's known as "outsider music": stuff that is arguably terrible or genius, depending on your viewpoint, but is nearly completely self-unaware. It's not manufactured irony, it's sincere, no matter how horrible it may (or may not) be.
If you're unfamiliar, refer to Wild Man Fischer, the manic-depressive schizophrenic (I believe that's his actual diagnosis), produced by Frank Zappa:
This other shit I'm talking about? Think of the mock-jazzy intro part to "Bitchin' Camaro" by the Dead Milkmen.
Now, imagine someone got the idea that that should be an entire band-concept, or an album's worth of material.
Anyway, bring your scorn if you're feeling butthurt at all about what I said, but I'll warn you: It will be a headed-nowhere conversation. I prefer to be challenged, and either feel stronger about my position or open to seeing a new perspective that I couldn't consider without the help of another.
In case you bastards are illiterate, I'm talking about the punk band that came out of the hell hole of Portland, Oregon (not that I think it was bad, but the band hated their city of origin, so it is best to describe it in a term they would like).
Not Rancid.
So this article will in no way mention the band Rancid again, because no way in hell are they underrated. Rancid Vat, on the other hand, is.
Formed sometime in the '80s the band has gone through many line up changes, with the husband and wife duo of Phil Irwin and Marla Vee. Despite their unique and ahead-of-their-time sound, this band has never gotten the respect they deserved throughout their three eras (being the Portland, Philly, and Austin line-ups). Maybe it's because they did their own thing and rejected (and still reject) trends throughout their 30-something years of playing.
The first era was the Portland line-up of Phil Irwin (guitar), Marla Vee (drums), Eric Larsen (bass) and Steve Wilson (vocals). They started out as a noise rock group (due to Phil not knowing how to play traditional chords at the time) and got their name from dicking around with a Ouija Board, asking "spirits" what to call their band.
Eventually the band developed a very sludgy sound, reminiscent of the Seattle grunge bands that came into popularity in the next decade. Most of their lyrics were extremely nihilistic, with songs about murder, rage, and also contempt for the punk music scene at the time being trendy. Personally, it's a breathe of fresh air to listen to a band that goes back to the old themes of "no future" and "fuck off", since it seems more relatable for those trapped in a music scene that has been taken over by rules.
Not only this, but they have also written songs praising their favorite wrestlers at the time, and even covered wresting theme songs and music groups that they played with (such as Antiseen).
One of the main interesting aspects to the band's sound during the Portland days is Steve Wilson's vocals, which are extremely atypical in punk music: he sounds like a very menacing and mentally unstable John C. Reilly.
Songs to check out from this line up include "Apathy" (my favorite from the band), "Face Full of Teeth" (Antiseen cover, but it out-does the original), "Deeds of the Damned", "HHHH", and "When the Rolls Called Down Under".
After creating a bit of buzz, the band got a chance to move away from Portland, and they relocated to Philly, while unfortunately leaving Eric Larsen (who was previously fired) and Steve Wilson behind.
However, the Philly line-up became a force to be reckoned with. With the Cosmic Commander of Wrestling (RIP) fronting them, it added a more chaotic element to their sound with his extremely raspy and intense voice. This was actually the line-up that got me into them, and I wish I could've witnessed seeing this version of the band live.
Recommended songs from this line-up include "Hostile City U.S.A.", "Rock N' Roll Fraud", "Loser Leaves Town", and "Live Radio Fiasco" (includes a cover of Adrian Street's "Breaking Bones").
After some success touring with long time friends Antiseen, and other insane acts like the Murder Junkies and Hammerlock, the band again relocated, this time to Austin, Texas, and recruited Texas Studd as their new vocalist (as the Cosmic Commander decided to remain in his hometown of Philadelphia). Although a bit weak compared to the other previous vocalists, he does a pretty damn good job.
Recommended songs include "Die Hipster Die", "Imagine What I Could Do To You" (another Adrian Street cover), and "We Hate You All The Way From Texas".
Despite the line-up changes, they always had a "no bullshit" approach to punk rock, let alone rock music in general—An element that has been missing for some time, and is probably why they do not get the respect they deserve, or even taken seriously due to their noise rock origins—Which is bullshit, since everything they released does not sound dated, at all, and elements from even their earliest material can be heard in modern day bands.
John Stahlman is the current bassist of the punk trio Omission and has also been in numerous other bands in the northwestern Pa scene, including Paint Thinner, TxSxOxDx, Made Not Born, Wydell, and Choke The Bastard (now Vermin Warfare). He has a Bachelor of Arts from the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford and majored in Broadcast Communications with a minor in Public Relations, if that has any merit to it anymore. While at college he hosted a few radio shows at the campus' student radio station WDRQ1620 AM, most notably the Underground Vault, which played local music, and also covered the Biological and Health Sciences department while writing for the student newspaper The Source. Stahlman is currently unemployed, in debt, and has gotten to embrace even more of his nihilistic punk rock view of life.
ANC staff members Sam Sinister and Whiskey got together one day over drinks to listen to some Cleveland punk bands' digital releases on Bandcamp. These reviews are the result. Party Plates - s/t 7" (2014)
Sam: Okay, so I guess these guys are kind of angry about something. Is this crust? The recording quality reminds me of old black metal, but I think it might be crust or d-beat. It's not unlistenable, at least not for me, but I don't think I'm in the mood for it at the moment. And trust me, this is music I would have to be in the mood for. Dichordant, quasi-metal guitar riffs and hoarse, unintelligable vocals. It's just monosyllabic sounds. Are these words? There's also a lot of snare drum. The best part is the part right after the intro to the third track, before the singer starts barking again like a yippy little dog whenever the mailmail shows up. This all sounds really negative, but honestly I like it. Or, at least, something about it. If it didn't seem like these guys thought they were an awesome band, I'd like it even more.
Whiskey: kidnapping quatro: robotic drums, sloppy guitar solos, & proto screaming vocals. needs to come with a lyrics sheet - totally unintelligible (is that kind of the point?), wow, you’re so pissed. disforeplay: again, i need the lyrics. do punk/hardcore bands ever have lyrics when the singer is actually screaming? doesn’t his voice hurt after a while? there has to be vocal classes for screamers, right? more sloppy guitars but that obviously doesn’t matter since the rhythm is fairly tight. ah & now we get to the sludgy outro & “discord” false ending. intro/galloping ghost: chugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugchug. “WOOOOOOOORDSSSSS.” chugchugchugchugchugchugchug. “IM SO EROJHLEJSDSLLHFOSHDGLJSBIKWE.” higher tempo chugchugchugchugchugchugchug. it’s like if between the buried & me & a pile of sludge metal shit had a baby. the one thing i will give these guys credit for is that they obviously don’t take themselves too seriously. super serious hardcore punk bands lately have often have their heads up their asses in regards to their “talent & vision.” the discorded vocals, overdone snare, & choppy guitar riffs definitely lead one to invest in the name: party plates.
Perverts Again - All Over Again (4-track EP, 2014) Sam: Decent snotty mid-tempo punk rock, SST-style. What's with the flanged, demonic vocals, though? At first I thought it was a gimmick for the opening track, but it's in every song! Overkill, guys! I like the lo-fi approach to the recording, though, and the simplistic guitar/bass/pounding drums formula never fails, at least not for me.
I will say one thing: If these guys never heard of Nirvana I'd be really fucking surprised. Whether or not that's a selling point is entirely up to you, but it reminds me of high school kids who formed bands back when I was, you know, in high school.
Replay value: Not much. Originality: Not much. Listenablity: Sure, why not. The good news is that these guys seem to have a good sense of humor: With song titles like "Bald Spot Boys" and "Outhouse Countdown", you'd have to. They also have "Charged" plastered across the top left corner of their logo, so bonus points for the referential irreverent stuff.
Whiskey: Outhouse Countdown: very simple, straightforward punk groove & lyrics, very silly & campy, the use of the actual countdown is clever. i admit i snickered at some of the lyrics. “brute in the bathroom” chorus is fun & could definitely be screamed while drunk at a show. so far, i’m liking this much more than Party Plates if only for the camp factor & lyrics that are actually understandable. You’re Not Taking Me to Prom: this song is definitely making me wonder what these guys are like live. the stage show would ideally be pretty outlandish & possibly with a dash of crossdressing & stage humping. (fingers crossed!) drums are incredibly solid & head-nod worthy while the strings are tight. i’m just now noticing the underwater effect on the singr’s voice & it’s giving me a Jabberjaw meets the creature from the black lagoon vibe. Bald Spot Boy: the same vocal effect is on the singer’s voice that’s definitely intentional & Jabberjaw-ish. so far i’m not blown away by this track because it’s very safe & typical of newer punk bands but it is a decent song with good arrangement. the drummer holds the line down & the guitarist hasn’t overstayed his welcome. Hunt and Gather: my fear is confirmed: they’ve overdone the underwater effect on the singer’s voice. *yawn* the final track is a dud, limp & lifeless like a lost lamprey. i was pretty into this EP at the beginning but the schtick has worn thin by track 4. still, an okay song. i do dig the vibe these guys were going for: surf rock meets punk meets garage with overlays of vocal tweaking but it does get tiresome after a few tracks. maybe i will revisit this & come to a different conclusion but for now, it’s an okay effort.
Lots of downstrokes on the guitar, in a Greg Ginn/Johnny Ramone style, and all songs clock in at around a minute or less. Tons of yelling, in a way that doesn't sound contrived. Just pure energy and aggression. Minus any of the metal influences and tough guy posturing typical of most modern hardcore—this is just good ol' fashioned '80s style punk. Mostly mid-tempo fare (for hardcore, at least), with a few double-time circle pit numbers thrown in for good measure.
Not a bad effort; no sir, not by a long shot. A+
Whiskey:i’m not going to bother doing the song titles because they’re less than 90 seconds long. the recording is what strikes me off the bat; incredibly lo-fi, gritty, & sounds like shit but that’s kind of the charm here. although the vocals are very loud, the lyrics are still comprehensive. high energy & frantic. the tired trope of using movie quotes is overdone by track 3. but by track 4, i’m back on board for more fist swinging & energy expulsion through the intense guitar churning, tight drums, & call to arms oi inspired lyrics. these guys are definitely not everyone’s cup of tea but there’s definitely a passion for yesteryear’s punk rock formula: Keep It Simple, Stupid.
Ultra Ultra - Swag Ultra (2011) Sam: No wave/heavy indie rock stuff. The opening track, "Culture Vultures" is decent: angry, snotty, occasionally off-time vocals and heavy, fuzzed-out guitars with a bit of dissonance here and there.
Track 2, "The T.I.V.", whatever that means, has a bit of hardcore/post-hardcore and emo influences (the latter is especially pronounced, unfortunately). Really not my thing.
The third and final offering, "Chimera (Reprise)", starts out sounding sort of like a bad attempt at garage punk, but quickly goes back to being an awful emo/shoegaze hybrid, this time complete with time signature changes and an answering machine message at the end that was aparrently supposed to be funny, but I couldn't tell what it was even saying, so the joke was lost on me.
I wouldn't recommend this release to my worst enemy.
Whiskey:this seems like the most post punk entry that we’ve sampled so far & it’s going down smoothly so far in track one. there’s definitely a mewithoutyou/tiger’s jaw/glassjaw influence here or at least a band i would have seen on warped tour in the late 90s, early 00s. there are some chunks to gulp through (typical lyrics, predictable riffs, an overall yawn fest to be honest) but it’s incredibly easy to digest. the biggest saving grace is in the tightness of the bass & polished recording. this band definitely has similar influences of what i grew up enjoying but doesn’t have much edge to their music. i have to admit that i enjoy it if only for the nostalgia factor (much like a warm yoohoo) but it is unremarkable.
Tongue-in-cheek,
egomaniacal, and self-referential amalgam of punk, surf, hard rock,
and garage, sung by an ageless ginger army vet. Quite a few numbers
even hinge on all-out American-style psychobilly—sans the usual
upright bass, or any obvious cowpunk and honky-tonk
influences—sounding something like horror punk songs, minus the
horror.
The lyrics are hilarious slabs of satire and over-the-top
bravado, referencing everything from Star Wars, junk food, drug
addicts, unicorns, cowboys, Youngstown, video games, girls, and
monster trucks, all while showcasing the sonic monstrosity that is
Greasy Steve Dixon's guitar work, which sounds something like a
Frankenstein's monster pieced together from parts of Dick Dale,
Poison Ivy Rorschach, and Greg Ginn. Singer Texas Pete Wildman croons
and hiccups in a style that's equal parts punk and roots.
The entire
thing was recorded live by Tommy Horror in a warehouse, in one
take—so it's obviously raw. Surprisingly, though, it's an extremely
professional-sounding recording of a band that's obviously tight and
well-rehearsed.
A for effort, or is it E for effort? E for Everyone.
A for Awesome. Whatever. As far as replay value, it's only left my CD
player twice—briefly, mind you—in the week I've had it. Can't
wait for the next one. Bring it!
Alrighty, hodads, here’s the standard rundown on surf music.
It’s the early '60s in Southern California, and loads of teenage Baby Boomers are (a) learning to surf, and (b) dancing with each other. Naturally, they invent a form of instrumental dance music that sounds the way surfing feels. There’s a steady, driving drumbeat and a reverb-soaked guitar that supposedly mimics the experience of riding the waves.
After only five years, though, the heavier sounds and themes of the British Invasion and psychedelia washes out the surf sound. Surf rock has a minor resurgence in the '90s—thanks to Tarantino using the surf classic Miserlou in the opening of Pulp Fiction—but, it never really recovers from its wipeout long enough to get back into the mainstream. Everybody got that?
At first glance, it looks like surf rock is the ultimate “scene” music, arising as it did from a very specific subculture. In reality, most surf rockers never touched a board in their lives. (Hell, bands like The Trashmen out of Minneapolis were thousands of miles from the nearest wave.) Fortunately, surf is the kind of scene that doesn’t involve obsessively separating the “authentic” from the “poseurs.” There are certain kinds of guitars and clothes that most surf rock bands prefer, but for the most part, it really is just about the music, man.
This is one of the nice things about surf: you can pretty much leave the “scene” baggage at the door. It’s impossible for anyone to be in a fake surf band because there are no qualifications other than playing surf music. And, it’s impossible for any surf band to sell out because there’s no money to sell out for. (The most popular surf musician in the world is Dick Dale, and he’s touring constantly just to barely pay his medical bills.) As a newb, you never have to worry about anyone giving you a hard time. They’re happy to have you.
So, are the Turbosonics out of landlocked Pittsburgh, PA a real surf band? Is their new release, Tres Gatos Suave, an authentic surf album? Yes. Now on to the more important question of whether or not it’s any good.
If you’re new to surf music—or you’re only familiar with the '60s stuff— will be a good introduction to where this genre has gone in the last half-century while you were busy sniffing glue and staring at your smartphone.
Surf has gotten bigger and heavier since the '60s, but the focus is still on the melody. Listen to enough surf, and you’ll catch on that this melody business is right at the heart of the music. Too much experimentation and improvisation and you lose the purity and sweetness of the melody. Your music becomes a kind of reverb-soaked jazz and your audience doesn’t have a place to hang its hat. Keep it too simple, though, and your audience gets bored. By the time you’ve played your hook for the third time, the audience is already done with the song.
For most of the tracks on Tres Gatos Suave, guitarist Jason Truckenbrod does a solid job of finding this melodic sweet spot. He passes what I call the “hum” test. (Here’s how it works: When you’re done listening to a track, can you hum the melody? If the song got too far out there, the melody won’t stick. If it was too boring, you won’t want to hum the melody because you’ll be sick of it.) That said, there are a few tracks that I think he veered too far across the experimental border for my taste and I lost the thread. I am a remarkably simple-minded creature when it comes to melody, though, so your mileage may vary.
Melody will always be the heart of surf, and melody is timeless. If "Walk Don’t Run" or "Apache" were released today, we’d be humming those tunes, not saying, “Those melodies sound old-fashioned.” We would probably notice that the rhythm section sounds a little outdated, though, and that’s where surf has evolved most noticeably over the last 50 years. Keith Caldwell (bass) and Timmy Klatte (drums) do a great job of adding texture and interest to these songs while, at the same time, never losing the beat. (Which ain’t easy, kids!)
[You can listen to, and purchase, this release here. -Ed.]
Ben
Butina lives in Westylvania with his patient wife and four kids. He
plays guitar, bass, drums, piano, and harmonica—all poorly. If
you’ve got a beef with him—or if you want to contact him for
non-beef related communication—send your alcohol-soaked manifesto
to butina@gmail.com.
