Quicksails Mix (in Russian!)

Hey hey, it's mid-May and here I am. Segueing back into regular posting, here's a post that Ben from Quicksails/Tiger Hatchery/Druids of Huge put together for a Russian site. It's a lot more sedate than most of the aural atrocities featured on here, but hell, even drug punks need to chill out sometimes.

Check it out here!

Beast Fiend-Beast Fiend Rules! EP (2014)

Back when I lived in Chicago I used to drink at a bar called Medusa's from time to time. Those of you familiar with the frozen hell I call home probably know Medusa's quite well. If not, let me describe it: Medusa's is (was? Fuck it) a bar on the second floor of a walk-up in what used to be a shithole neighborhood now given over to yuppies and other true shithole-dwellers (i.e., not punks).

Tuesday nights were punk nights at Medusa's, but that didn't mean weirdos, outcasts and cranky commies such as me and you, dear readers. Instead it meant a smorgasboard of assholes from the nether regions of Chicago's white suburban sprawl: by that I mean you had the full range of shittiness from apolitical '77 punks, through anti-racist yet patriotic, misogynistic, and homophobic SHARP skins, down through Republipunks (such a thing does indeed exist) all the way to members of FSU and outright, dyed-in-the-wool Nazis. This cranky commie usually kept mum and tipped generously when his friends would wanna go there, for obvious reasons.

None of this has anything to do with Beast Fiend, a punk band from San Francisco; they just sound like the sort of loud, howling punk raucousness that would be playing when the chairs go flying at a shithole like Medusa's. Actually this EP's fun and melodic punk in a slightly soulful note.

You can listen to Beast Fiend here.

Nonagon-The Last Hydronaut EP (Controlled Burn, 2013)

I haven't heard a band so thoroughly from and of Chicago since the much-missed Loose Dudes. Nonagon operates on the direct opposite spectrum of punk from the Dudes, but if you've spent any amount of time in my home town you'll know what I'm talking about.

Nonagon features ex-members from a slew of bands well-loved in Chicago and virtually unknown outside it. That's typical of the city's best, since fundamentally Chicago is a big city with nothing around it for about a thousand miles in either direction.* Bands here either make music because they love it, or more to towns like LA or NYC and develop bad attitudes and the  coke habits to go with 'em.

Nonagon plays the sort of contorted, long-form post-punk initially popularized(?) by bands like Jesus Lizard,  etc. etc. You know the sound: plaintive/snide singing, strange time changes, and pummeling drums mixed in the front. Bass lines chiseled enough to cut granite. And so forth. Most cities killed off this end of their scene back in the mid-90s but Chicagoans are still at it. It's what happens when literate punks get tired of sheer noise but don't wanna end up sounding late-period Husker Du, either.

You either love this music or don't understand why anyone plays it. It's not my favorite sorta noise, but I love every instinct that leads people to play it.

So check out Nonagon here, then BUY THEIR FUCKING EP, DUDE!


*I might make exceptions for Detroit & Cleveland, but fuck you, St. Louis! As the Necros said, IQ 32, Midwest, fuck you.

Cacaw-Get a Brain 12" EP (2010?)

Tips on being a successful mid-20-something in the U.S.A.:

7 a.m.: Wake up, preferably hung over, preferably unable to recall how you wound up in your own bed (or in someone else's bed, even better). Clutch your head in a paroxysm of pain, hoping that this is all a bad dream. Repeat.

7:30 a.m.: Finally crawl out of bed because that stupid alarm clock won't shut up, and because coffee will not-despite your best efforts-make itself. If you woke up in another person's bed, add the fact that s/he is starting to wake up, and ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT want you next to them when they do sober up and wake up.

7:45-9:00 a.m.: Sip coffee and munch on day-old bread, preferably alone, preferably in your underwear, alone. As you do so, ponder the deeper mysteries of how it is that, despite your best efforts, it is in fact Friday and you have in fact been this hungover every Friday for the last month (at least).

9:15 a.m.: Muster up enough courage to check your cell phone and/or social media device. Figure out how many friendships you destroyed. Make initial efforts to heal the wounds, or throw them all away. It depends on how much you drank, and how much horseshit your friends are willing to tolerate.

10:00 a.m.: Disturbed by knocking on your bedroom door. The rent's due again. Pay it, or, alternatively, think of some horseshit excuse that doesn't trick your room mates-let alone landlord-into giving you a one-day extension.

10:30 a.m.: Feel so elated about accomplishing the major feat of paying or ducking the rent that you manage to take a shower.

11:00 a.m.-noon: Make your way to your place of business. Wisecrack with your friends about last night's peccadillos, hiding the fact that you may have picked up an STD, and certainly should not be mixing with civilized humans at such an early hour.

1:00 p.m.-5:00 p.m.: Avoid a mountain of work. That mountain has been here since early May, but God knows that you adamantly refuse to start tunneling beneath it like a good gopher. Stare at it. Hate it. Feel reassured because it ain't going anywhere. Repeat.

~5:00 p.m.: Duck out of work as early as possible. Make your way to the local bar and/or cafeteria. Your friends-who have girlfriends (boyfriends), careers, and in general have a clear sense of real priorities, will meet you there soon.

~5:30 p.m.: Scream and shout about Marxism, the dialectic, and the newest, most awesomest punk records with above-said friends.

 ~8:00 p.m.: stumble home, reeking of beer and/or whiskey. Continue drinking while playing Cacaw or Black Flag (don't make no difference) at top volume.

~midnight: pass out in a pool of drool, sweat, and vomit. You should be too disgusted by yourself to be capable of forming coherent thoughts, by this point. In the unlucky and unlikely event that you are, however, they should be centered on the fixed idea of how dumb you are and how boring your dirtbag, degenerate life is.

CACAW IS PREEMO-PRIMO NOISE ROCK SWEETNESS, SHITBIRD.

*EDIT, 7.15.14: Just re-up'd the file, get it HERE*

J.T. IV-Cosmic Lightning LP (~1980s//2008)

 "it's kinda hard to write a song/when you've been inside these walls so long...."

This one's personal for a lot of reasons. J.T. IV grew up in my general part of the Chicagoland area (Roger's Park and Evanston), seems to have been a perpetually (and partially voluntarily) marginal member of the Chicago punk scene, and his songs generally evoke a sense of being so fucking neurotic and out of it that they don't fit into any given context, no matter how much one wants to say "Velvet Underground tribute" or "proto-whatever".

One of the frustrating things about the age of digital everything is that chronology and genealogies of influence are totally skewed: Listening to J.T. IV's stuff in the early '10s, it's easy to say "Oh yeah this dude sounds like Pink Reason" or whatever, but he was blasting out a unique blend of garage punk and lonely downer ballads back when "Anarchy in the U.K." was still a novelty. It's hard to imagine these songs in their original context, but my guess is that it doesn't matter much, since I'm pretty sure J.T. (short for John Timmis IV, I think) was doomed to be a loner while alive and now, post-mortem.

That makes it all the more important to keep this guy's work available, even if the originals had almost no impact upon first release, and the Drag City comp is out of print. "I'm Waiting for the CTA" is, you guessed it, a goofy, localized rave up of the Velvets' famous tune. "Death Trip" isn't a cover, but it manages to almost match the Stooges song for hard-edged intensity and the nihilistic glee you get when blasting it. Between them, these two songs set the tone for this compilation: a quintessentially late-'70s mix of glam, hard rock, proto-punk, and sheer outsider weirdness that doesn't fit any of our categories. J.T.'s voice is frail and quavering on most of these songs-especially the beautiful "In the Can/Out of the Can" sequence and "One Fine Day with the Karma Man." On "In the Can," we get a view of life from inside a mental institution, from a guy who woulda known. It's not just a slice of dementia, though: J.T. IV eloquently communicates the experience of total isolation and frustration, of knowing your friends are out there and care about you but won't be in touch for awhile. The best couplet is "When I finally get outta here/I'm gonna buy me a bottle of whiskey and a case of beer!'

As with most of my favorite records, I could rant about this one for way too long. I'd like to expostulate on a wonderfully paradoxical verse like "there are sometimes when I feel good/and other times when I feel fine/but I wouldn't even know it/if I didn't feel bad sometimes" for several paragraphs.  In the interests of getting you fuckers to actually listen to this guy's work, though, I'll shut up. In my opinion, J.T. IV's songs are some of the best, underappreciated bits of outsider punk ever made and you should all listen to this. My boy over at In the Zen Arcade posted this back in 2011, but I'm guessing mediafire killed the link so this is a justified post. If you don't like this compilation you shouldn't be reading this blog: It's that simple.

Tripped over a junky in the hallway....
Then, go BEG DRAG CITY RECORDS to re-release this compilation. I would happily buy 50 copies of any re-pressing and give away 48 of them to friends for conversion purposes.

Wound Up-s/t 7" (2004)

-->

Wound Up was a short-lived Chicago hardcore band that played a handful of shows and recorded this 7” and an LP before disbanding in 2004. I’m guessing that virtually no one outside of the Chicago and Midwest hardcore scene remembers them, but for awhile there they were the toast of the town-or at least among us ~30 idiots who crowed into the DePaul Cheesgrater (locals only!) on Friday nights to see dumb hardcore shows. This may have had more to do with the personnel-the band was composed of members of other CHC bands whose names I can’t remember-but this 7” stands the test of time, for what it is.

Is it stupid? Yes. Crude? Of course. Retrogressive and atavistic? No shit. These qualities make the record so great. Jerky guitars that just barely hold together the general pattern sketched by the rhythm section; a singer that sounds like an emasculated Oscar the Grouch trying to sound like Springa; nonexistent production values: all of this in three songs, none of which last longer than a minute-forty. My favorite is “Fuck Fashion” because it’s so dumb. Back in the day-goin’ on ten years, now, in fact-everyone likened these guys to a non-racist Skrewdriver. I’ve never heard that bunch of fascist fucks, but this is crude, stupid, and fundamentally macho. Looking back, I don’t know why I was so enamoured of this band, but I guess it was one of those dumb “youhaddabetheah” things. Nevertheless, if you like American hardcore, you’ll like this.  It’s what Hoax might sound like if that band wasn’t so fucking self-conscious and stylized. 

YEAH THAT'S RIGHT IT'S DUMB HARDCORE.... 

Michael Wohl-demo (2012)

John Fahey is one of the great under-appreciated American folk heroes. He was more legit and had more integrity than any of the British Blues assholes whose whole careers were based on ripping off Robert Johnson, and he was probably a better guitar player than Clapton (fuck that guy anyways.."tears in heaven," my ass!). He's probably my second-favorite guitarist after Django Reinhardt.

So it's refreshing to hear a new take on the Fahey sound on this 4-song demo by Mike Wohl, who hails from Seattle by way of Chicago. I don't really have the musical vocabulary required to intelligently discuss this-Mike's work, like a lot of Fahey's, is so intricate that it's hard for a musical illiterate like myself to describe; this review is mostly imagistic. But I enjoy this thing, which is more important for those of us not as steeped in the blues and Americana as dood is.

"Long After We are dead" is a spry piece of cheerful guitar work. It conjures up an image of walking down a dirt road somewhere in Mississippi or Alabama in the July heat, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, on yr way to pick blueberries. Which I've never done, but it sounds delightful, and "Long After We are Dead" is a sunny idyll that'll set you off down the dirt road (blues). "No Ticket Blues" is slightly more meditative, lilting along in a way that reminds me of Skip James; to my completely non-technical ears, it sounds like a more upbeat re-working of "Hard Time Killing Floor Blues." "Poor Boy Long Way from Home" is, of course, a blues standard: Fahey adopted it from Mississippi John Hurt. Wohl does as good a job as anyone alive in 2012 can. He uses the heavier strings to effectively create a rhythm, plucking minor notes to fill out the song's pattern; at times he's hitting the strings so hard and crisp, it sounds like there's a very quiet drummer in the background.

The coolest song here, as far as I'm concerned, is "Melatonin Blues/Fever Dream." It's a sprawling, ramshackle 6-minute collage of found chords, improvised patterns, and desultory riffing. It's a collage of various pieces that didn't fit into complete songs, but brought together, they create a compelling ambiance all their own that's great for getting fuckin' weird to.

Listen to the demo here. 
The demo is great for spring, when you can move around outside, but I've found it's also a great accompaniment for watching the rain at 1 am, chainsmoking and drinking gin.

Violent End-demo CS (2012)

The cover says it all: violent music with nothing but malice lurking beneath frenetic drumming and ugly, mutilated guitar riffs.

Violent End is the current darling of the Chicago punk scene: current or ex-members of Raw Nerve, Manipulation, Chronic Seizure, Vile Gash, et. al. If you know anything about those bands you can expect a similar dose of barebones, no-frills hardcore. Angry Andy from Vile Gash delivers his trademark snarl, barking out words of hate (I can't make 'em out but I'm sure the words are as violent as the music).

I don't need to say any more; if you like raw American hardcore, you'll like this.

The songs aren't separated, so it's just one big file. Deal. Check it out here. You can still buy a physical copy from Sorry State Records. Do it, now!

Violent End is playing with Hoax, Kontaminat, and NEGATIVE APPROACH on September 9th at Chicago's Cobra Lounge. It'll probably be the show of the year, so go if yr gonna be in my hometown. For more info, read this.

Heavy Times-Fast Night CS (2009)

Have I mentioned lately how Heavy Times is my favoritest band from Chicago of late? If not, mea culpa, 'cause these doods shred in a way we haven't heard much of late late. Infectious, scratchy guitar riffs, dirt-simple riddim, and relatable tales of love, loss, and druggy tomfoolery 'round the city. Who can't relate, i ask thee?

Anyways, this was the first thing I heard by Heavy Times and, in lieu of gathering enough energy to critique something new, it's what I'm closing out June with. "Teenage Animals" opens with a killer, chanted "aaahhhooohaaaa" and doesn't get much more sophisticated than that-minor note guitar solos, hollered vocals, and that's all she wrote. "Stoned in the City" is the story of my life from ages 16-22: the sun's out, I've got some dope, gonna bike around Chicago lookin' for dat broad I saw the other day at some crappy noise show. Hell, I even have some beer to share, and sweet little nothings to whisper in her ear. Stoned in the city, dontchaknow?

"Good Looker" is the heart 'n' soul o dis tape. It opens with what sounds like drums played on empty paint buckets, more hollered, non-verbal chants, and single-note guitar majesty. The tale is totally something I'm familiar with: guy likes girl. Girl is way cooler than guy. Girl, in fact, does all sorts 'o' weird drugs dude is scared of. "She's a real tough chick with a bad attitude/coke 'n' grooves..." More importantly, "she stole my heart and there's nothing I can do/I feel abused, I feel abused..." Much of my time in several European and American metropoli have consisted of this very same feeling.

Whereas the vocals are slurred or mixed so low they're incoherent on most Heavy Times tracks, on "Good Looker" they're front 'n' center as they should be. Flip the gendered pronouns and anyone can relate to this song (well, if you're between the ages of 15-35, listen to rock 'n' roll, and do drugs, anyways-i.e., all my readership), so motherfuckers should be blasting it come August when the coke is flowing like rivers down yer crinkled doller bills and all ya cares about is more booze 'n' pills, y'dig? Priceless tunes, I tells yeh. If I were inclined to fall in love, this song would be on the mixtape I'd make for the (un)lucky lady.

"Night Swim" is a bit more plodding, clomping along as we're regaled with, uh, I think a tale of swimming at night. The epically simple guitar is what sets this tune apart, and keeps me putting this track on mixtapes I mean to make for girls I talk to in bars, but whose numbers I forget to write down...anyway, "Night Swim" features more majestic, minimal, lofi guitar madness and it's great.

Heavy Times is at the top of their game, and if yer in Chicago, you're n idiot for not having seen them already. Out of towners can be excused.

Download "Fast Nights" here. Check out a video for "Good Looker" here. The band has a new LP out on Hozac Records, BUY IT!


*EDIT, 11.16.12: RE'upd the file, get it HERE. *

Home for the holidays, or, Terror Boys: A mix.

 *bands/people who have sent me music in the last week: I'm slowly working my way through it, your stuff will be up at some point soon.*

I'm catching a plane in an hour for my ancestral homeland of Chicago, which I haven't been back to in over a year. When there, I usually revert to the affective state I was at when I moved out, i.e., I become a taciturn, mindless drunk brimming over with meaningless vitriol.

So what better way to celebrate devolution than by throwing on some classics about violence, unemployment, Thatcher and....violence? NONE:

DO YOU FEEL ALRIGHT?!?

1. Blitz-Someone's gonna die tonight
2. The Clash-Career Opportunities
3. The Newtown Neurotics-Kick out the Tories
4. Decry-Falling
5. The Mau-Maus-Society's Rejects
6. Uproar-Rebel Youth
7. GBH-Sick Boy
8. Culo-Toxic Visioms
9. Filth-Banned from the Pubs (Peter & the Test Tube Babies cover)
10. TDA-TDA
11. The Partisans-Police Story
12. Cro-Mags-Hard Times
13. Minor Threat-Stand Up
14. Intensified Chaos-Intensified Chaos
15. Negative Approach-Ready to Fight
16. Ultimo Resorte-Violencia
17. Criminal Damage-Anesthesia

Cemetery-demo CS (2011)

Ok, so I'm obviously re-posting this from Terminal Escape, but it's justified for two reasons: 1) I've known the singer since high school, which means cronyism demands I draw attention to this; 2) this is one of my favorite demos of 2011.

Awhile ago, I was ranting about the sad state of neo-post-punk. Death/goth punk has also been making a massive comeback lately,
and Cemetery knows their history inside and out, but this isn't a mere nostalgia trip. These hard-drinkin' dudes from my hometown drone out 6 tracks of grinding, lightly distorted and atmospheric death punk a la Christian Death, et. al. "Reptile Walk" is a blaring, hellishly well-done call to arms for all of you who rock bullet belts to the goth prom. "Voices in the Ceiling" and "Voices in the Walls" nicely cap off each side with atmospheric, synth-drenched mood-setters.

What really sets Cemetery apart from the competition is the songwriting. These guys have constructed 6 tight, remarkably well-executed songs, not just a squalling mess dumped on cassette tape. The guitar is especially cool, confirming my suspicion that guitarists in this genre owe a lot more to Dick Dale than, say, Tommy Iommi.

GET INTO IT! Hang out with Cemetery here. Stay tuned for info on their first record....

*EDIT, 10.10.12: Reup'd the demo, get it HERE. *

*EDIT, 7.30.13: FINALLY GOT AROUND TO RE'UP'ING THE DEMO (AGAIN, FUCKERS): HERE *

Kontaminat-2011 demo

Punk bands in 2011 generally boil down into two groups: those who are young, inexperienced, and eager to learn-as-they-play (Culo, Birth Deformities, et. al.) and those who, like Kontaminat, have been doing this so long, punk is in their DNA.
Hence, it's no surprise that this demo fuckin' slays. Whereas they seemed headed in a crushing, Framitid-style wall of noise in the live videos I've seen, on this demo Kontaminat has headed in a direction closer to Deathreat than Kochi City Madness. Everyone's favorite Chicago HC hearthrob, Mike Thrashberg, has mutated into Joe Denunzio's (Ebro's?) ghost on this demo: harsh, admonitory barking rides a wave of unrelenting, but refreshingly well-mixed, US hardcore.

I don't have a lyric sheet in front of me, but with titles like "Tenure Hellstorm," you can't go wrong. The mix is relatively clean, which is great 'cause all the instruments pull their weight-the guitar fuzz on "Team Player" is closer to post-punk than hardcore butchery, and I love Pat's bass riffing, especially on "Costume." In short, Kontaminat is one of Chicago's best new HC bands, and you should, uh, getcha punk on and catch 'em on the 27th. Details to follow.

They say it's lonely at the top.... I'm reposting this from One Track Hell, which I cordially thank for boosting the volume on the recording. Contact the band, and try to scrounge a copy of the tape, via THIS!

Culo-Toxic Vision EP (2011)

Ever since these guys crawled out of Elgin back in 2008 or so, my friends can't stop raving about 'em. Elgin, for non-Chicagoans, is a benighted suburb somewhere out in the cornfields west of Chicago. I'm guessing it's a boring, intellectually crippling place to grow up in.

This EP spouts anger and frustration out of every pore, like a lonely alcoholic on a Saturday night. The first few tracks are atonal thrash, with the guitar and drums careening into brick walls completely removed from each other. Slowly, coherence starts to emerge, especially on the last self-titled track: the "Discharge-meets-Ramones" comparison I keep hearing from Chicago friends finally makes sense on "Toxic Visions."

This EP bears out my friends' claims that Culo is one of the hottest new(ish) HC bands in Chicago...they're not reinventing the wheel, but they know exactly what they wanna do, and they do it perfectly. Bash in a few brain cells and get in the circle pit, dipshit.


Tired, bored, angry. Buy it! Over at Deranged Rex.

Raw Nerve-Midnight EP (2011)

He took another drag of his cigarette.
"Sounds familiar. Just the same old routine...it's like Sally Timms said, in that Mekons tune, back in the '80s...what was it? Oh, yeah. This. 'But if I never see you again, I'll die....
Whatever you want, you'll never find the beginning of it. That's why you'll always be too late...Whatever happens, it'll be the thing you didn't want to have happen. Whatever doesn't happen will be the thing you want. Take your choosing. As you like. You always get what you don't want. Now you're talking just like me. It's an eye for an eye, as we move over the darkness...."
"Yup, cycle of shit. What are we doin' tonight?"
"dunno. Ain't shit to do."

....oh, yeah, Raw Nerve's Midnight EP. It's good. It's loud. It's noisy.

"These things happen. Mistakes are made." This is out of print. Buy other shit on Youth Attack!, support the cause. Whatever that is.

The Repos/Fourteen or Fight Split (Gloom, 2004)

First of all, can I just comment on how amazing this cover is? I can only say that I wish more hardcore kids were rockin' DIY '70s stoner metal jeans these days instead of crotch-crunching designer denim.

On that note, if you're familiar with this blog, you're familiar with my love of The Repos. Not much to be said about their side: seven retarded, magisterially executed tunes about...uh...whatever.
Not many people outside of Chicago remember Fourteen or Fight, which is a shame. They were just getting started when I began going to DIY shows; I saw them maybe 3 or 4 times. They were great. No fuss, no muss, no fancy art school shit; these guys belted out direct, barebones hardcore with Frank's desperate, earnest vocals cresting the

riffs.

Light up that bong, and dive into this fucked feast from Gloom. It's long out of print...be an aggressive collector, and try EBay.
*EDIT, 9.20.12: REUP is HERE.*

*EDIT, 1.9.14: Re-up'd it again, HERE!* 

Ultratumbados-MMVII demo (2007)

Ultratumbados was just getting started when I left Chicago for sunnier climes, and I only saw 'em a coupletwotree times. They killed it, always.  I first heard them mentioned as "that band that just does Warsaw covers," and they shared members with Population.

This demo contains nary a Warsaw tune, although there is a sick take on my favorite Eskorbuto song. This, their LP-length demo, still surprises me three years later for its snotty, fresh blast of songwriting and how well these guys threw '77 punk and goth into a melodic stew all their own. My faves iz "Soy un Elegido," with its pummeling drumwork, and the hollow guitar tones on "Desnutrido Como un elefante."

Peeps dis shit if you like your punk melodic, your goth rockin', and/or your guitarists large.

Mierda! Only fifty copies of this were made, but contact the band here, and you should be able to find copies of their 7" and, I think, LP(?).

Busy Signals-S/T LP (2007)

There are two kinds of people in this world: Those who drink to hide from their problems, and those who drink to enhance whatever good times they're already having. Usually I fall in the former group, but this LP makes me wanna be part of the latter.

Sweet as that Bazooka Joe you're chewin', the Busy Signals were one of my fave live acts when I lived in Chicago. Monster-size guitar leads, a perfectly arranged rhythm section, and dual vox: the Signals have (had?) everything you ever wanted in a garage band. They weren't the most original group I've ever seen, but this is a blog called "Drug Punk," after all.

I think I love you.... The LP is still available, buy it!

The Smoking Popes-Get FIred LP (1993)

I don't expect anyone outside of Chicago and under the age of 30 to know who the Smoking Popes are. Standbys of the early-'90s Chicago pop punk scene (Screeching Weasel, Bollweevils, etc.), the Popes' work has aged better than their contemporaries, especially this, their debut LP.

   Melding saccharine vocal phrasing, so-obvious-they're-retarded-riffs, and a charmingly discreet rhythm section, Smoking Popes eschewed the high-pitched whining that afflicts almost all post-Buzzcocks pop punk. Instead of sneering at everything like their major booster, Ben Weasel, the Popes sang songs about love and being lazy twentysomethings.
     Look at the cover of Get Fired, and you get a pretty good idea of who the Popes were and what they were up to: four normal schlubs playing basic rock 'n' roll. No pretenses, no irony, no bullshit. They also wrote one of the all-time greatest slacker anthems, "Not That Kind of Girlfriend." The chorus says it all: "I don't wannt fall in love/'til I'm thirty-five...."

"And you're not helping..." Buy the LP direct from the band, here. They're playing a few dates in the upper Midwest in October, check 'em out if ya get a chance!

No Thanks fanzine, issue 7

I'm very happy to announce that issue 7 of Mike Thrashberg's zine, "No Thanks" (formerly "No Thanks//Fuck Everything") is now available c/o Drug Punk. No Thanks, along with DX's Distort, is probably my favorite current English-language 'zine.

This issue features a lengthy interview with Lebenden Toten; an Antisect retrospective; a re-print of the final Los Crudos interview; and a whole lotta other sweet shit.

We're also distro'ing past issues, including my personal fave, issue 3, featuring an interview with Dan from Distort fanzine, and interviews with The Brat and Deskonocidos.

Those in the US, send $3 to me at:
Joe Figliulo
PO Box 12740
Santa Barbara, CA

Peeps abroad-the shipping cost varies by country, so email me and I'll get back to you w/how much it costs.

Heavy Times-Dead LP (2010)

Boyhowdy, boppers,  is this a departure from the Priority Male Rex cassette I reviewed back in June, Sick Listens!
Whereas said cassette was a freeform jumble of tunes, "Dead" is a fucking statement. Starting out with the wicked bad raditude of "Welcome to the Graveyard," the Times immediately lurch into a different key with the lite crooner "Poison Ivy". The LP grooves its way towards the epic freakout jam of "Dead Lake," where all of Heavy Times' druggy brilliance is on display.

 Shit is fuckin' crucial, man. Perfect for sex on a mixture of Valium and Adderal. Totally.
...she ain't no human being!  "Dead" is still available from Permanent Records. Look out for a new Heavy Times LP in the near future-pop over to Tiny Grooves for a preview.