Feral Future-Haematic LP (Western Medical, 2014)

Six reasons to buy the new Feral Future LP:

1. This is the best American punk rock I've heard since Crooked Bangs' 2012 debut LP. As it happens, Crooked Bangs and Feral Future are on the same label, Western Medical Records.

2. If you thought all Austin, Texass bands were carbon-copy Discharge rip-offs, you're wrong: FF dishes out heavy, brazen punk that ditches the d-beat and goes straight for the throat with massive riffs rising above a wall of sound.

3. Feral Future's singer can actually sing real notes, instead of howling. This gets them pretty far in the category of "worth more than one or two listens."

4. Sooner or later this band will catch on with the Pitchfork dweebs, upon which time their shows won't be fun to go to. Catch 'em while they're still a punks-only thing.

5. "Hostile" cops a riff from The Clean, and is almost as good as that song. No mean feat in 2014.

6. Feral Future rocks out the way Bikini Kill would have, if BK had been a band instead of sonic terrorists and the cheerleaders for 3rd-wave feminism.

That's about it; go to the Western Medical site and buy the LP! 

The Zoltars-Walking through the Dark LP (2013)

This band has a real knack for writing quirky, off-the-cuff garage tunes. Their Live Like Dragons EP had me jazzmatazzed and their second LP don't disappoint, neither. The sound is much the same, but there's more of it and the songs feel more focused than on said 3-song effort.

You get the feel, listening to this LP, that the Zoltars are playing more for their own enjoyment than 'cause they really wanna sell records or impress the girls. The production (recording? Same shit to me) gives it a hushed, almost subdued feeling that suits the lyrics well. Topics usually focus around lonely night trips, and wanting to get out of yr house simply 'cause it makes you feel alright. Sentiments I'm certainly familiar with, and the instruments are balanced just right on tunes like "Here in My Room," the opener. But let's take "Fear not Death" for a showpiece: constrained, restrained instrumental layouts, menacing guitar notes, and a singer gently, menacingly, repeating "fear not death." Ok, fucker, gimme that 6-shooter, the gin, and whatever pills you've got.

Make of that what you will, Zoltars are one of the few smash-it-up stellar reps of what passes for a garage rock scene in the States these days. Unlike most of the other groups in that category, they deserve garage star status because of their restraint: this band understands how much drama can be packed into build-up and the rising-action part of the story, and use the climax scenes very sparingly. They're best to blast when starting your evening. That means when you're on your 3rd drink of a 10-godknowshowmanynight, and you haven't done any (hard) drugs yet. Have fun, kids.

The Zoltars-Live like Dragons 7" (2013)

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Of course this band is from Austin. There’s a certain something-not a sound, but a vibe perceptible even from this distance-unique to Austin bands. Maybe it’s the Roky-esque guitar chug or the dead-insect vocals (reminds me of ? & The Mysterians, I know they weren’t from Austin but you get the idea), or the slight country shadings of the production, but yeah these are Texans from the good part (good city) of that beshitted Lone Star Republic.

As soon as I heard the nullnode talk-singing and scratchy, thin guitar sound on “All my Friends”, I knew this was a winner. Or at least a winner by DrugPUnk standards. Which is a loser by most peoples’. If you’re a frequent reader of this fine e-publication, you’re gonna dig the Zoltars, if'n you don't already. It’s got what we all love. A crude, minimal-by-design garage sound that plays like Roky getting fucked on gin and hanging out with Johnny Thunders; a subtle note of country menace giving the EP more presence than it would otherwise possess; and  great song titles like “Heroin Thunder.” What’s not to love? In fact, “Heroin Thunder” is the real winner here. The guitarist chugs along like a slow-moving Greyhound to Odessa, Texass, and the singer doesn’t bother finding a melody (harmony? I was too busy hitting on this really cute J.A.P. in high school music class to learn the difference) appropriate for the riff, he just talks, neutrally, over the noise. The bassist and drummer hold the whole fuckup of a tune together in a sorta understated way. This is the song that shoulda been the theme song for “That ‘70s Show” but never was, since it’s less flashy than said show’s theme song, while catching the apathetic boredom of being a teenager in a perversely enjoyable sorta way.

The Zoltars is on the same label that gave us the Bad Indians LP, but I like this thing more. It has all the promise of the Indians’ early work and none of the burdensomely front-forward psychedelic flair of their LP.  Visit mom for dinner, smoke some dope in her basement, and listne to this EP. Also look for it on my best-of list in December.

You can listen to the EP here. Then go buy it at the same page. Keep up with what the Zoltars are doing here.

The Dicks-Dicks Hate Police 7" (1981[?])

I'm assuming most of you know this one, but if you don't, boyhowdy, bopper, are you in for a treat! Austin's Dicks, along with the Big Boys and MDC, formed the van guard of the States' queer punk scene. They woulda been a great band regardless of who these guys liked to sleep with, however: this 3-song EP is a blistering example of American punk in its prime.

The Dicks and Big Boys both went in for weirder, more durable sounds at a time when everyone else in the U.S. punk was trying, and failing, to sound like Bad Brains and/or Black Flag. Off-kilter guitar twang, Gary Floyd's deep, bluesy howl, and amusing commentary on this country's ills really set these guys apart. "Hate the Police" is a brilliant slice of disgusted analysis of a racist cop who's had a bad day; the guitar sets a slow burn lead that sounds more urgent than MDC ever could. "Lifetime Problems" ends with Floyd cackling maniacally and that goddam guitar squalls to match him. "All Night Fever" is my new favorite tune to start a bout of drinking to: a slender, sinuous bass line introduces a hammering beat that almost sounds funky. Any girls wanna dance to this? Well, I'm in Italy so how do I say that in Italian? Whatever.

LIFETIME PROBLEMS. Apparently the Dicks are alive and well and back together. Check 'em out if they're playing in a town near you.

Cavedweller-2016 pt. II & III CS (2012)

Richard Linklater's "Slackers" is one of my favorite movies. In case you live on Mars and haven't seen it, the film meanders through 24 hours in the life of Austin, Texas and in and out of the lives of a bewildering variety of characters. Events take place, but mostly it's the story of the spaces between people as opposed to the story of a traditional hero(es).

I don't mean to peg Austin/San Antonio's Cavedweller (Dirk Michener) as in any way associated with the movie, but they share an important sensibility. The songs on this LP, like Linklater's first film, meander in and out of focus in an entrancing, strangely hypnotic way. This is very quiet music, that on first listen is dead on arrival.


Listen closer, however, and you start to pick up on the subtle crests and dips in Michener's work: the lightly plucked minor notes and guitar crescendoes on "Kevin Grows Gills," the lowkey guitar buildup and gradual ebbing away in "Poison." This is psychedelic music, but not in the sense of howling, heavily distorted guitars and screaming vocalists. Rather, it's music appropriate for a variety of moods, and which warps and shifts depending the mood you're in. I was extremely depressed today at the office and it resonated just as much as it does now, at the end of the day and in a good mood. That sounds trite, but take a moment and think about the albums in your collection: most of them are one-shot, single-emotions pieces. Michener's work manages the tricky feat of responding to a number of moods, from sullen despair to blissed-out calm.

This is the first recording I've heard from Michener, but apparently he's been at it for twenty years, now, long before "lofi" became the hot buzzword for the shitbirds at Vice Magazine. He deserves your support, so you should buy the tape here. You can read the detailed, well-composed liner notes here.

Women in Prison-demo CS (2011)

This is Kickboy Face music. Women in Prison sound nothing like Catholic Discipline, but every syllable, every note this band produces has an all-knowing sneer in it-they might be kinda retarded, but somehow the joke's always on you. "Reaction" has the best punk drumming I've heard in recent years, bludgeoning you into acquiescence.

These guys totally woulda loved Women in Prison, if only they weren't listening to cockrock Aerosmith trash. Women in Prison is so fucking awesome, I'd totally buy 'em a 12-pack of Milwaukee's Best and not even ask for one!


God save your mad parade. Dudes have a facebook page. There's a 7" out, too-check out the masturbatory writeup, then buy it, here. Rock out, Wayne. Ups to Robert at Terminal Escape, from whom I think I got this thing.

Meat Joy-Self-Titled LP (1984)

No, this isn't another Tesco Vee sideproject. This is the anti-Meat Men. If they made a career out of aping the Dead Boys tune "Caught with the Meat in your Mouth," Meat Joy were the rebel girls Bikini Kill would later idolize. 
Meat Joy's a lot more interesting than Bikini Kill. Instead of relentlessly repetitive 1-chord bang-bam and screaming, this album mixes mid-tempo noise numbers, lullaby-style a cappella, acoustic ditties, and an amazing tune about breasts. This isn't your typical sour-faced political punk, either. Gretchen Phillips is certainly angry, but is laughing as much as she's hectoring.
 I'm pretty sure that Kimya Dawson stumbled across this thing when "moldy peaches" were still just something fungal, and owes her entire subsequent livelihood to these pioneering Texans.

Lord God have mercy. If you only visit Drug Punk for the hardcore vinyl I post, you will FUCKING HATE this album (that's the point). Big ups to Phoenix Hairpins blog, from which I stole this version of the album with the sweet inserts-my copy had only the vinyl itself. Gretchen Phillips, Meat Joy's mastermind, sounds like a radical lady in all regards, peeps her steez!

*Edit, 1.6.14: I re-upped the file and you can now download the LP HERE. *