Ritalin Blues

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Ceremony

Lemme tell you about 2005. Fresh outta high school and living on my own, I was nurturing a malnourished soul on a heady diet of rage, bitter hopelessness and hardcore. I don’t recommend the approach, but it makes for decent writing. Somehow, I got my paws on the debut 7” Ruined by a California band called Ceremony, and my whole world changed. I saw the future and found peace with the world, maaan. Just kidding. Things still sucked, but I dug the record a lot. Ruined featured short songs, venomous lyrics and a resonant violence that shook me with all the subtlety of a nailgun to my crotch. “It’s dog eat dog in a place like this/ Every man for himself so I use my fists!” Good gravy, I need to punch something right now. But this ain’t about me and my Holden Caulfield complexes. It’s not even really about hardcore. It’s about Ceremony, a band that has slagged through the hardcore circuit for the better half of a decade, poised and ready with an album of new jams slated for release on the indie juggernaut Matador Records.  Zoo, twelve cuts of tuneful despondency, finds the band stretching beyond their “razor-to-the-throat” approach, listlessy incoporating strains of surf, post-punk and goth into their acrid blend of melody and bleakness.  While the approach can whip Internet hardcore kids into a snotty-nosed, finger-pointing frenzy, guitarist Anthony Anzaldo says it’s just part of the biz. “We don’t go into the songwriting process and say, ‘Hey, let’s not write fast parts,’ or, ‘Let’s try to sound exactly like this!’ It’s really not a conscious thing.” Regardless, having fine-tuned their chops over countless US tours and a handful of releases, Ceremony’s focus has certainly shifted.  The title itself, Zoo, is a reference to the absurdity of human interactions and commodification. We pay to watch people act, to make music, to play sports. We even pay to see them bump uglies from time to time. It’s a curious observation, penned in a statement on the band’s website via vocalist and principal lyricist Ross Farrar. “Ross is trying to see the good in people and the things that we do,” says Anzaldo. “Not to focus on how we hurt one another like he did in the past.” The shift brought about new critical attention and when Matador label reps caught wind of 2010’s Rohnert Park, they came to a raucous L.A. show and offered to release the band’s next record. While not specifically known for a hardcore roster (excluding Fucked Up), the influential label seemed a good fit, and the band enthusiastically agreed. “Everyone there loves music as art,” says Anzaldo. “You go into Robby [Morris, Matador’s A & R representative]’s office and he’s got original Minor Threat, Negative Approach and Necros flyers on his wall.” 

While the label change will expose the band to a more eclectic audience, Anzaldo is all too aware that certain fans will jump ship. “We’re going to lose fans with every release,” he says. “I remember when Scared People came out, which I thought was pretty similar to the previous record, and it was just too left of center for some people. That’s cool. No one has to like our band.” The phenomenon has plagued punk and hardcore bands since the salad days of yore, and exposure and opportunity bring about new challenges to credibility. Still, Anzaldo maintains that any deliberate effort to halt or impede the evolution of the band, to repeatedly re-write the same record, is antithetical to the ultimate goal.  “We still look at ourselves as a band that plays basements to thirty people. That’s where we come from,” he says, “but we’ve grown so much as individuals.” With plans to share the stage with The Rival Mob, Pissed Jeans, Hoax, Nails, Cold World and even Old Firm Casuals, Ceremony show no signs (despite the incessant bleating of message board naysayers) of abandoning the hardcore scene that spawned them.   Zoo certainly isn’t lackluster either. Sure, it lacks mosh parts and thirty-second ragers, but it thrums with the same nervous urgency that’s permeated Ceremony’s discography since inception. It’s a triumphant step into a new plane that suits the band just fine. Out of step?  You betcha.  So, lemme tell you about 2012. I’ve finished college, travelled a bit and seen some shit. Not ‘Nam vet shit, but mid-twenties male shit. Anger’s given way to exasperation, and any desire I had to tear the world a new one has given way to apathy and the overwhelming urge to marry, mate and begin my slow crawl into damning adulthood. I haven’t thrown a decent punch in years. I sit at home, write and think about the things that keep me sane: some friends, clean sheets and all the hilarious YouTube videos I can shake a stick at. Then I listen to Zoo and think about applying for a better job. Please don’t feed the animals.

Ceremony will be performing at SXSW in Austin, TX as part of the Power of the Riff showcase on March 16 at Scoot Inn and March 17 at Red 7 as part of the Flowerbooking SXSW Showcase.

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Birds in Row Collected Vitriol Street: 01.17 Birds in Row = Black Cross + Young Widows + late Snapcase Maximum Louisville’s jilted strain by way of ... France? Rad. Having just signed to ’core powerhouse Deathwish Inc., the good folks at Vitriol have seen fit to help with the transition and release a compilation of all the band’s material to date. Weighty and tangled, Birds in Row play hardcore with a palpable amount of rage and experimentation, freely moving past the sub-genre’s narrow confines into otherwordly territory. “Cottbus Outro” slithers, crackles and pops like an Appalachian campfire crawl and “Chat Noir” disintegrates into something spazzy, akin to Spanish castanets. Circuitous instrumentation propels this into the stratosphere of holy terror while phlegmy vocals swim in the mix to keep it grounded. Songs rumble, snarl and if you listen carefully, coo. Quality stuff. –Dylan Chadwick

Cannons/Maraloka Self-Titled Split Self-Released Street: 12.01.11 Maraloka = Mastodon + Coalesce Cannons = Robot Whales + Black Cross With members having done some time in Parallax, God’s Revolver and a host of others, local boys Maraloka play down-tuned, sludgy heavy metal that’s as kaleidoscopic as it is leaden (which dorky bloggers will probably call “mathy”). Think ’90s ‘core after straight edge and the vegan apocalypse, or maybe Coalesce and early Converge, heavy on groove and light on shrieking. Monster riffs and an acerbic sense of tight and relentless rhythm keeps this side sounding fresh, potent and just a little bit sideways. I even hear a little Jawbox in the haunted riffing of “Thechne.” Great stuff here, goobers. Denver’s Cannons draw from the same sonic well, with a sinewy Fugazi-esque take on post-core with just a lil’ Damnation A.D. nihilism for good (bad) measure. Jazzbo employs time changes galore, springy fretwork and some Rob Patterson-style vocals. Cave In and Black Cross playing late Dischord covers? Sounds tight, don’t it? 

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Book Reviews

Aerosmith: The Ultimate Illustrated History of The Boston Bad Boys, The Armageddon Chord, College Humor.  The Website.  The Book., The Skateboard: The

The Skateboard: The Good, the Rad, and the Gnarly: An Illustrated History Ben Marcus MVP Books Street: 06.06.11 Contributing to the wealth of great skate books that have come forth in the past few years (I mean, have you read those Sean Cliver books?), Ben Marcus throws his hat into the figurative ring with an excellent and comprehensive tome of skate history, art and design. From the wobbly days of pilfered lumber and terra-cotta wheels, clear to Rodney Mullen’s double kick, it’s all covered with an obsessive attention to detail and a stunning assortment of photos from all eras. Marcus’s impeccable research and superb writing are only matched by the engaging stories and interviews collected throughout (peep that Jim Fitzpatrick one)— and the layout’s great, showcasing all eras of great skate art. Hell, the thing even comes with a handy index for quick referencing, perfect for skate nerds or a school project. An excellent compilation of raw skateboarding info, well worth the attention of enthusiasts and casuals past and present. –Dylan Chadwick

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http://www.slugmag.com/articles/3210/National-CD-Reviews.html

Black Hole of Calcutta Self-Titled Sacred Plague Street: 09.20.11 BHOC = Stormcrow + Tragedy + Bloody Phoenix This is NorCal ’core that’s fast, black and political, and manages to sit safely outside the Motӧ/Discharge Krusts-with-iPhone-and-Rickenbackers kontingent. They have a pretty dense sound that skips between crusty hardcore, thrash and back to grind over and over again. They’re competent musically, so the longhairs can feel good and evil about spinning it, too. The album has crusty breakdowns and giant riffs (“Hey War”) and a beefy production that’s present enough to give the music some power without sanitizing it … and as abrasively ugly as this album is sonically, visually, the packaging is beautiful, silk-screened artwork on a grainy cardboard sleeve. The album looks great and sounds real nasty. Ooomph. A.C.A.B. Up the punx and bang the head that does not bang. Soundin’ like His Hero is Gone certainly ain’t a crime in my leather-bound book. –Dylan Chadwick

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Blitzkrieg Witchcraft continues digging at that crusty scab, coaxing a virulent anarcho-sludge blend to the surface, but opting for strained atmospherics over s

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Over 70 reviews of new and recent albums from And So I Watch You From Afar, Gauntlet Hair, Kimya Dawson, M83, Mayer Hawthorne, Thee Oh Sees and many, many more.

And So I Watch You From Afar Gangs Sargent House/Richter Collective Street: 11.08 ASIWYFA = Fugazi + Russian Circles + Caspian You try to start attaching too many subgenre tags to an original band, and you put a little too much shit with the steak. Let’s be clear, Gangs is huge. Gangs is hypnotic. Gangs is breathtaking. A monolithic juggernaut pieced together between festival appearances, it’s a dualistic record, the genius of which lies in its ability to occupy two spheres: hard to place and instantly enjoyable. Indie, metal, electronic, dub and anything with a “post” prefix comes to mind, but it’s best not to get bogged down in all that blogger nonsense. Circuitous riffing, bombastic rhythms and the occasional choral detour coalesce into one rockin’ slab of cerebral aggression. Don’t misunderstand me, this ain’t sludge and it never crawls. Hyperfast on its feet, incorporating erratic blends of African percussion and Asian ambiance, constantly flitting between massive and more massive, never sacrificing melody or texture, it’s a document of belligerent beauty from one of this era’s pre-eminent instrumental trios. –Dylan Chadwick

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Top 5: Cold Cave

In 2003, if you would’ve told me that the singer from American Nightmare would eventually break edge, move to San Diego, do a metric ton of coke and write

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New and recent releases from Coliseum, David Lynch, Dum Dum Girls, Hella, John Doe, Mike Patton, Owen, Russian Circles, Skinny Puppy, This is Hell, Tori Am

Coliseum Parasites Temporary Residence Street: 11.15 Coliseum = Black Cross + Drive Like Jehu + Cursed For every stinking Motö/Discharge comparison garnered, Louisville’s favorite beard punx have always nurtured an angular post rock obsession that’s laid hissing beneath their “big amps/big riffs” cacophony for years. On their newest eight-song offering, producer legend J. Robbins (Jawbox) manages to draw a distinct wiriness from Coliseum’s gravelly barrage, aerating the dense salvo into a digestible and compartmentalized pastiche of thundering drums, whining guitars and ardent growling. The band sheds their traditional galloping steamroller aesthetic for something resonant, contemplative and forcefully evocative. Powerful songwriting and an experimental fascination with stilted tempos and serrated sonic reverb (first cultivated on House with a Curse) coaxes a ragged soul from the band, rendering Parasites their most challenging and memorable work to date. –Dylan Chadwick

Faith Subject to Change plus First Demo Dischord Street: 09.26 Faith = Artificial Peace + Ceremony + Urban Waste Besides being part of the seminal Dischord scene (and a sharing a bloodline with ’core luminary Ian MacKaye), Faith’s real impact lay in the melodic hardcore (don’t punch me if I say “emo-core”) that rose from its ashes, namely Embrace and One Last Wish. Still, short lived and posthumous, Subject to Change isn’t without its own charm. Alec MacKaye’s brittle and impassioned yowling (new-jack Ceremony fans take note), the tinny resonance of twin guitars and the crisp production-(re)mastering combo of Don Zientara and TJ Lipple expose cuts like “Limitations” and “Subject to Change” as exuberant, scrappy quasi-tuneful hardcore classics in their own right. Though the lion’s share of these tracks ended up re-recorded on the (arguably) more) iconic split LP with Void (including some demo tracks tacked on the end), a heartfelt revisiting of an embryonic cult album is a welcome gesture in any scene. –Dylan Chadwick

The Jesus Lizard Club  Music Video Distributors Street: 08.23 The Jesus Lizard = Scratch Acid + Cows + Butthole Surfers Menacing noise rock brutality defined The Jesus Lizard as they defied genres throughout the ‘90s. Though they sat comfortably beneath the commercial radar, the group spawned numerous copycats, a turgid reputation and a whole lotta moaning when they bowed into obscurity a few years later. In their usual backward tradition, aging hasn’t stunted them, but given them an amphetamine charge, and their first performance in over a decade (captured at Nashville’s Exit/In) proves the band’s longevity and nihilistic potency. Fistfuls of Touch and Go material, sonic violence, sweat, blood, missing teeth and David Yow’s wiry commentary (mostly about dead celebrities and the $120K paycheck he gets afterwards) shows the band back and relevant, revisiting their destructive prime and still blazing past their young-buck contemporaries with a sardonic psyche-jazz weirdness betraying their age. Visually and musically, its immediacy and palpable rage proves essential for fans past and present. –Dylan Chadwick

Mike Patton Music from the Film and Inspired by the Book “The Solitude Of Prime Numbers”  Ipecac  Street: 11.01 Mike Patton = Michael Andrews + Danny Elfman + Phillip Glass “Multi-faceted” proves to be a resoundingly appropriate term when describing Mike Patton’s musical output: a career that genre-hops more than a temperamental middle-schooler. So when the dude announces that his next project will be a “sonic departure” from the last, it’s hard to take too much notice. Still, compiling an album inspired by a 2008 Italian novel (and 2010 film) about two heartbroken individuals seemed compelling enough, and the results add yet another dimension to Patton’s storied legacy. Eschewing the crazed exuberance and schizophrenic bombast of previous efforts, the album plays heavily on undertones, icy minimalism and single note passages occasional teasing themselves out into symphonic grandeur (check “Radius of Convergence”). Plinking pianos, trembling strings and an ethereal synth varnish (and the delightful quirk of having all tracks numbered sequentially with the first 16 prime numbers), it’s certainly not Mr. Bungle … but a wholly satisfying audio-cinema experience nonetheless. –Dylan Chadwick

Speedwolf Ride With Death Hell’s Headbangers Street: 11.22 Speedwolf = Inepsy + Razor + Agent Steel If your favorite NWOBHM bands were forcibly coerced into an apocalyptic biker rally to the center of oblivion, Ride With Death—all fleeting punk blasts of barely decipherable gravel-gurgling, clattering drums and razor-wire riffin’ all cobbled together like some sordid leather-jacketed, bullet-belted orgy from a Lemmy Kilmister coloring book—would be playing. It’s well-trodden (motörbiked?) territory for sure, but copped with such grease, grit and nihilistic precision and driven by such steady and undulating messiness (“I am the Demon?” Woah!), you’ll forgive ’em for abusing that corny “wolf” moniker. Imagine Zeke, playing Metallica’s “Hit the Lights” (No Life ‘Til Leather version) over and over, except their instruments are melting and they’re high on trucker speed, and a mushroom cloud just choked out the nuclear desert sky and your skin’s bubbling right off the bone cuz Rob Halford tossed your corpse into a pile of burning Metal Massacre LPs. Imagine that. –Dylan Chadwick

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New releases from Absu, Andrew Jackson Jihad, Beirut, Ceremony, Gringo Star. HTRK, Juno Reactor, Modeselektor, Night Birds, The Pine Hill Haints, Rock

Ampere  Like Shadows No Idea Street: 08.16 Ampere = Orchid + Funeral Diner + Born Against + Pg. 99 Even if Like Shadows is Ampere’s crispest recording (and their first full-length), it’s still a dense affair, rooted in 90s screamo (the good kind, not the swoopy haired kind) and DIY iconoclasm. Pursuing the cathartic exuberance established on past releases (notably 2004’s seminal All Our Tomorrows End Today), Like Shadows is a typically lo-fi emotional barrage in which songs rarely exceed 40 seconds, wayward hisses, squeals and strains mask melodic undertones, and lyrics sustain a fluttering balance between misanthropic bleakness and wild-eyed defiance. Ampere prove masters of their craft, beating everything into corybantic frenzy, while somehow maintaining some semblance of control. Untrained ears may struggle with the mix (drums up high, vocals deep down fighting amongst the guitars) but there are no throwaways here. Repeat listeners willing to dig deep will find 14 cuts of passionate fury congealed below the surface of Ampere’s best work in years. –Dylan Chadwick

Ceremony 6 Cover Songs Bridge 9 Street: 08.09 Ceremony = Negative Approach + Black Flag + Vile It may have brought them acclaim from the smarmy confines of the indie world, and dumb hardcore kids may have been quick to cry about it, but Rohnert Park was Ceremony’s best work to date and only proved the power of their abrasive, sand-paper and razor-wire approach to fast ’core. While their recent signing to Matador has fans anticipating another aesthetic sea-change, 6 Cover Songs may temporarily quell their impatient histrionics. Though it fails to tread new ground, it’s strangely comforting to see a band pay tribute to their influences, and these reworked punk relics, vitriolic and paranoid, sound innate and instinctive, not forced or obligatory. Like any Ceremony release, it doesn’t drag itself out much, but obvious highlights are their acrid renditions of Pixies’ classic “Nimrod’s Son,” Wire’s “Pink Flag” and Eddie & the Subtitles’ “American Society.” –Dylan Chadwick

Landmines Commerce and Marx Paper + Plastick Street: 08.02 Landmines = Avail + Title Fight + Marathon Richmonders love their bands. I saw Crime in Stereo at United Blood fest ‘07 open with “Simple Song,” and it resulted in absolute bedlam, everyone clamoring for the mic. Really, Richmond has always been a hotbed for great melodic hardcore (Avail? Strike Anywhere?), so Landmines don’t have to look far beyond their hometown for inspirational cues. Commerce and Marx hasn’t evolved far beyond their self-titled record, and maybe that’s OK, because they’ve got the talent and cohesion to play this brand of tuneful ’core the right way (metronomic drumming, shout-alongs, Avail worship, occasional noodling and a hardcore flourish or two). Cuts like “Hookerpiss” and “You Are Number Six” sound particularly potent, with political lyrics (Oppressive technology? Combating apathy?) and a cogent execution. Admittedly, it fails to carve out anything new genre-wise …but it’s played so damn well it’s hard to fault ’em for it. –Dylan Chadwick

Mad Anthony/The Yellowbelts Split XMAS Cactus Street: 08.26 Mad Anthony = Rocket From the Crypt + Zeke The Yellowbelts = Trophy Wives + Love Battery + Drive Like Jehu What a scorcher! An offering from each band, just enough to gently blow an obscenity or two into your waxy ears, wheeze hot breaths onto your pimply neck, tap your gnarled veins and then pack up and drive far away, leaving you cupping your privates and howling for abuse. Cinci’s Mad Anthony rips through a dissonant garage-punk cocktail with a lil’ swagger and poise … like Glenn Danzig hammered and stumbling his way through an Icarus Line cover set, while Lex-Vegas Kentucky’s Yellowbelts take the twisted perversions of their Louisville counterparts (namely Young Widows), add some classic 70s proto-punk and filter it through the psyche-y flower groove of Love Battery. It’s short, pretty (on nine different colors of vinyl) and has a hand-screened cover. If it doesn’t have you bounding around your neighborhood in a tinfoil hat, moist and incoherent, you’re probably too far gone, anyway. Rock n’ roll, you creeps! –Dylan Chadwick

Trapped Under Ice Big Kiss Goodnight Good Fight Music Street: 10.11 Trapped Under Ice = Crown of Thornz + Next Step Up + Linkin Park (yeah, I said it) I’ve wanted to hate them for a while … between the German fan-beating incident, naming themselves after a Metallica song and having awful fans … but I can’t. B-more’s Trapped Under Ice has consistently separated themselves from the mouth-breathing horde of troglodyte generi-mosh, writing excellent standout tracks that incorporate subtle pop dynamics. Like Secrets of the World, Big Kiss Goodnight exudes as much passion, introspection and mental vexation as it does camo and wife-beater urban tuffness, but opts for a mid-paced groove. “Jail” has a leaden mosh bit, “Time Waits” boasts an infectious staccato romp, “Outcast” and “Victimized” showcase superb riffin’ (slagging it as nü-metal ain’t inaccurate) and even if those clean vocals resemble Linkin Park (izzat auto-tune on “Dead Inside?”), that beefy call-and-response aesthetic is damn catchy. Hot Topic types might dig it, core kids will roll their eyes, and though FM radio is dying … Ozzfest isn’t. –Dylan Chadwick

Warbringer Worlds Torn Asunder Century Media Street: 09.27 Warbringer = Vio-lence + Death Angel + Exodus Warbringer’s always instilled an irrepressible giddiness in me. Call it my biased bent towards bullet-belted metallers playing anything moshable and primal, but when it comes to iGeneration jeans-tucked-into-Reebok thrash, these Ventura nutjobs lead the pack, and Worlds Torn Asunder proves it. Maybe it’s Dan Seagrave’s artwork. Maybe it’s Steve Evett’s beefy production, lending John Kevill’s slobbery bark the rabid edge it’s never had. Maybe it’s the leadoff cut “Living Weapon”—four minutes of war-time audial savagery abuzz with machine gun riffing, air-raid siren solos, and psychotic lyrical fare spat forth with all the subtlety of a meat hook in your pimply forehead … but it’s exceptionally memorable. “Wake Up … Destroy!” and “Demonic Ecstasy” prove capable of reducing brains and necks to quivering mushes of Bay Area bongloads and teutonic clashing, and somewhere in hell’s inner sanctum, Paul Baaloff is stomping poseurs into the devil’s nutsack while listening to this record on repeat. Come stagedive at The Complex (11.01). –Dylan Chadwick

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NeverNever

“Some really gnarly things happened to this band,” says drummer Gavin Hoffman, gently twirling his sticks. “Things I wouldn’t wish on an

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Napalm Flesh: Corrosion of Conformity Interview

Welcome to Napalm Flesh! This week we have an interview with drummer Reed Mullin of the mighty Corrosion of Conformity, who will be in Salt Lake on June 15, hea

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New and recent releases from All Pigs Must Die, The Cool Kids, Grieves, Hooray For Earth, Hot Water Music, Kindest Lines, Lydia Loveless, Milagres, Oathbre

Disappears Guider Kranky Street: 01.18 Disappears = Can + Jesus and Mary Chain + Lou Reed singing for Sonic Youth Woah … it’s like a senior thesis in post-punk. A glittering casserole of rambling indie rock touchstones. A delicious magic school-bus field trip through the sonic spectrum of leaden krautrock groove, psyche-haze sprawl and pop sheen, all weaned on fuzz riffs, delay loops, Gordon/Moore compositions (hell, Steve Shelley even plays on the album) and hypnotic rhythms. Brian Case alternates between Bernard Sumner-style yips (“Halo”), the robitussin murmur of Jim Reid (“New Fast”) and shamanic mewing (“Not Romantic”), while the band pulls out every gliding dream-pop stop, coalescing into the 15-minute album climax “Revisiting,” an orgiastic take on a single thrumming riff that blows itself out until it’s reached the outer limits of the icy stratosphere. Tago Mago bongwater gospel hypnosis. Bloody brilliant and certainly one of 2011’s best. –Dylan Chadwick

Oathbreaker Mælstrøm Deathwish Inc. Street: 07.05 Oathbreaker = Rise and Fall + mid-period Integrity + Converge + From Ashes Rise Aptly titled and bursting at blackened seams with vitriolic furor, Mælstrøm is a metallic hardcore hybrid, tailor-made for the raucous ranks of the Deathwish family. Cultivated around simple, doom-laden hardcore riffs and the larynx ulceration of vocalist Caro, it’s a caustic mishmash of genre influences, channeling the efforts of Shipwreck or Belgian country-mates Rise and Fall. “Fate is High” makes simultaneous nods to Systems Overload-era Integrity, Mayhem and the H8000 ’core from Europe’s battleground. “Sink into Sin II” rakes itself over the acerbic coals of a circuitous mid-paced riff, fully utilizing the barbed punch of Kurt Ballou’s production, and the guitar work on “Thoth” and “Black Sun” is stunning. This is a searing crossbreed of nihilistic bombast and mournful sonic self-immolation, whose only hiccup might be the lopsidedness in having its title track (an odd Cat Power-ish acoustic number) placed abruptly at the end. Another fine Deathwish product. –Dylan Chadwick

War Hungry Self-Titled Six Feet Under Street: 07.30 War Hungry = Danzig + Far Beyond Driven-era Pantera – Phil Anselmo + Scott Weiland Holy diver! The fabled War Hungry album! Only four years in the making! The pinnacle release after a storied career (since what, ’04?) of sporadic cassettes, splits, EPs and comp tracks … but damn, was it worth the wait. Featuring their best guitar work (check the end of “Mercy Seat,” will ya?) and building on that brooding groove they started jamming on Return to Earth, Hoodrack gives his finest vocal performance yet, alternating between sinister crooning (check “Shift”) and a rumbling bellow, culled from the deepest bowels of the ninth circle of Wilkes Barre. All cylinders firing, not a single throwaway number (even the reworked cuts from the Bad Seed split sound new) and the chops are tight. Mosh, bang your head or clear a frickin’ bowl. It all works here … Just pray to whatever God you hold dear that we won’t have to wait four more years for another record. –Dylan Chadwick

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This month we review The England's Dreaming Tapes by Jon Savage, the audiobook version of Evolution of a Cro-Magnon by John Joseph, and Rockabilly: The Twa

The Evolution of a Cro-Magnon (audiobook) John Joseph  Mightier Than Sword Street: 06.21 Simply put, Evolution of a Cro-Magnon is a “bolstered by my own bootstraps” tale of a young and street-savvy miscreant, the product of a broken home and an insufficient child-protective system. He peddled fake acid at arena rock shows in his preteens, sold flowers in parking lots as a Hare Krishna, went AWOL from the Navy and sang in the most important New York hardcore band of all time: Cro-Mags. While the actual book saw initial release in 2007, this re-released, abridged audio version features most of the goodies from the original (wonderful nuggets about recording the epochal Bad Brains debut, snipes at rival Cro-Mag guitarist Harley Flannagan and plenty on the horrific corrpution of the ISKCON), with the added treat of hearing them in Joseph’s gravelly, Lower East Side drawl. It’s a humorous and insightful take on urban living and the early punk music scene to which he clung: it paints a matchless portrait of the survival psyche bred from the NYHC scene—much different than today’s country club known as “hardcore.” Not having Age of Quarrel in your record collection is an unforgivable hardcore offense, and failing to have this on your audiobook playlist should be as well. –Dylan Chadwick

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New and recent releases from All Shall Perish, Big D & The Kids Table, City of Ships, Cults, Helms Alee, Jeff the Brotherhood, Larry and His

Fuel Injected .45 Past Demo-ns Alternative Tentacles Street: 06.14.11 Fuel Injected .45 = The Melvins + Tad + Therapy? + Kyuss Ani Kyd is tough as nails. She had a fantastic solo record, played guitar in Thor and fronted Fuel Injected .45 … and since the latter never released a record, Jello Biafra and company decided to give some old demos the Alternative Tentacles once-over by releasing ’‘em all as one blistering album. Ignore that goofy hot-rod cover -art, cuz this ain’t no rockabilly nonsense … this is bone rattling, low-end grunge skuzz, bred by the Deep Six compilation and the doomy climes of the Pacific Northwest. Check the thunder-groove of “Reload Diablo Reload,” or the re-appropriated Kyuss riff on “Death Walk.” It’s not always cohesive (an assemblage of demos rarely is) and occasionally slips into clumsiness (“Pure Evil” bleats like a throwaway Courtney Love number and “Lethal,” with its “tongue like a scorpion tail” refrain, sounds silly) but numbers like “Alright” are certified ragers … and Kyd could take you in a fight any day. –Dylan Chadwick

Mrs. Magician There is No God Thrill Me Street: 10.31.10 Mrs. Magician = The Velvet Underground + Love Battery + Spacemen 3 Here are two cuts of adamantly lo-fi surf-style jangle, like the NME’s C-86 tape filtered through a smoked- out San Diego garage, and one of 'em is about dropping hallucinogens with lesbians. Fantastic, fuzzed out vocals, a little bit of a Jesus and Mary Chain melody arrangement … and when “There is No God” starts to stretch itself out a little bit, when the subtle keyboard plinking sets in and settles nicely into that drawling sprawl, that cooing loop that tickles into ethereality that’s just the right mix of Goo- era Sonic Youth and Galaxie 500 ... damn. Ladies and gentlemen, we are floating in space. And to think, all this brilliance is all just a teaser for their forthcoming full- length, Pity Party Animal. Cop this, along with the Spells EP, and play it until your eyes are red, you incessantly hug everything and you stop saying your prayers … or pose later. –Dylan Chadwick

Primal Scream Screamadelica Live Eagle Rock/Kayos Productions Street: 05.31.11 Primal Scream = The Rolling Stones + The Byrds + Happy Mondays Screamadelica wasn’t just Primal Scream’s breakout album, elevating them from jangly '60s pop worship into a full- blown acid-drenched danceability —…it was one of the ‘90s' most important records, and the “classic album” live treatment reveals its potency even a couple decades later. Sparing nothing to recreate its kaleidoscopic grandeur, the band employs a full gospel choir (those incredible backing vocals on “Movin’ On Up” and “Come Together”), brass section and specially made background visuals (for the accompanying DVD). It’s a breathtaking live performance, and even longtime fans who’ve listened to the record thousands of times (like this writer) will find plenty of delicious nuances scattered throughout (like the infamous Dennis Hopper sample in “Loaded,” which morphs into an extended samba beat, a raucous homage to The Stones’ “Sympathy for the Devil,” or the rave-up added to “Higher Than the Sun”). A fantastic effort in re-visiting a phenomenal album. –Dylan Chadwick

The Reaganomics Lower the Bar Red Scare Street: 02.15.11 The Reagaomics = The Vandals + Millencolin + NOFX This is ultra-melodic punk rock that’s lyrically predicated on the Offspring’s “Cool to Hate.” Admittedly, I can laugh at a song like “Chireland,” which makes fun of faux-Irish pride, and “Ed Hardy” is worth a yuk, but generally, Lower the Bar is 17 tracks of barrel-bottom scraping potshots at wounded duck subjects. A punk band that hates popular things? How refreshing! Alert the presses! Sure, the musicianship is top-notch, water-tight and impossibly infectious, but it can’t mask the maddening staleness of the lyrical fodder … fodder that’s no more clever than anything of the Juggalo ilk. For being such cynics, I’d expect something a little more caustic … but it’s all tame, spit-shined Warped Tour material that wouldn’t offend a soccer mom. Upon listening, people may chuckle, but those with a brain will quickly remember how awesome old Guttermouth was, will dig out Musical Monkey and forget The Reaganomics completely. –Dylan Chadwick

Scream Complete Control Sessions EP SideOneDummy Street: 08.16 Scream = Into Another + Dag Nasty + Bad Brains + Fire and Ice-era DYS Scream was one of the most interesting and inventive hardcore bands, blending fast hardcore à la Government Issue with occasional reggae, to emerge from the second wave of Dischord bands. It’s at one-time drummer Dave Grohl’s Virginia studio where they’ve reunited to craft an EP. Immediately, it plays like a loose jam session. Pete Stahl’s silky vocals (vocals that have lent soulful influence to the likes of Richie Birkenhead and Anthony Keidis) permeate, and everyone seems to be enjoying themselves … but what the hell? Where’s the speed? Sure, “Jammin @ 606” gallops like a breakneck Bad Brains outtake, but the rest sounds a bit … stunted? Perhaps it’s impractical to expect “Search for Employment” played a thousand times over, and age is a factor, but still. It’s not devoid of moments (“Elevate” sports masterful drumming, and the harmonica breakdown in “Get Free” is a nice touch), but ultimately, hardcore kids will be disappointed. –Dylan Chadwick

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New releases from Black Lips, Crystal Stilts, Dox, Explosions In the Sky, Friendly Fires, Iceage, Jello Biafra, Los Vigilantes, Set Your Goals, Sol In

Beady Eye Different Gear, Still Speeding Dangerbird Street: 02.26 Beady Eye = Lennon solo + late Oasis + Meaty Beaty Big and Bouncy-era Who + The La’s Simply put, Beady Eye is Oasis minus Noel Gallagher … and it sounds as such. Entire pages pilfered from the British rock canon, rife with Liam Gallagher’s Lennon-esque warbling and teetering on the delicate line separating homage and plagiarism (check the not-so-cryptically titled “Beatles and Stones”), the album carries on like a Gallagher Bros iPod playlist. Still, it’s never staid, and the group seems noticeably looser, weaving between psyche-drenched espionage (“4 Letter Word”), wheezing blues (“Wind Up Dream”) roiling mod-rock (“Bring the Light”) and Paul-Weller-drunk-on-Champagne-Supernova balladry (“The Morning Son”). At times, Noel’s focused presence is missed and Liam’s poetry veers on the clumsy side, but with an all-star cast of musicians behind him (notably Ride’s Andy Bell), cuts like “Wigwam” showcase something soaring and magnificent. It has its flaws and it’s a tad long-winded, but it’s much greater, much fresher and much loftier than anyone expected … and that’s a bloody triumph. –Dylan Chadwick

Night Birds Fresh Kills Vol. 1 Grave Mistake  Street: 04.15 Night Birds = JFA + The Adolescents + Agent Orange + Dirtnap Records Having existed for three years, New Jersey’s Night Birds have already amassed a remarkable discography and the good folks at Grave Mistake have seen fit to compile both 7”s and the demo onto one handy little CD. How sweet of them! If you’ve not heard the band (shame on you!) they’re one of many post-Ergs! projects and play an exuberant mix of tunefully surf-able punk. Think Dick Dale and Rikk Agnew jamming cuts from “Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables.” Think morbid beach blanket bong-outs that you can’t get enough of. Think reverb-drenched riffing, “oozin’ ahh” vocal harmonies and brilliant lyrics running the gleeful gamut from grocery store killing sprees (“Thrilling Murder”), apocalyptic floods (“Killer Waves”) and gory schlock films (“Midnight Movies”). Atone for your sin of omission, snag the album and if it doesn’t become the ultimate summer party starter for you and your goofball friends, you probably need new ones. –Dylan Chadwick

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Zine Reviews

This month, we're reviewing three local zines: Six Letters Adressed To You, Utah's Homeless Paper: Ogden, UT Edition, and Wheelbit

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Local Reviews: Society Mis-Call

Here’s the kind of hardcore I like to see coming out of Utah. Pure Reagan-era throwback that owes more to Dischord’s Flex Your Head compilation and