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MRR Radio #1587 • 12/10/17

This week Matt pulls some rarities out of the vault to make the scums and punks drool. Intro song: STENGTE DØRER ...

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MRR Radio #1586 • 12/3/17

On this week's MRR Radio, Rob goes ballistic for late '70s and early '80s Bloodstains punk rock from around the ...

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Maximum Rocknroll #416 • Jan 2018

Another new year, another exciting issue of Maximum Rocknroll! MRR #416, our January 2018 issue, begins with a sad note as we ...

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"Who gives a fuck?"

MRR Radio #1585 • 11/26/17

“[...] Elvis gives them a short speech about the death pangs that humanity must go through in order to reach ...

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MRR Radio #1584 • 11/19/17

Another fuct up Rotten Ron and Horrrible Halitosis Punker Power Hour. Intro song: DRUGCHARGE - Husk Rotten Ron fucks it up so you ...

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Maximum Rocknroll #337 • June 2011

Another issue of Maximum Rocknroll is hot off the presses. MRR #337, the June 2011 issue, features an interview with one of the architects of punk, John Morton of electric eels and X_X amongst other bands, discussing his Cleveland punk days and artwork. We talk to Zack Carlson and Bryan Connolly who put together the amazing recently published Destroy All Movies!!! book, an exhaustive study of punks on the silver screen (and straight to VHS!). And don’t miss our interviews with Finnish hardcore champs YDINPERHE, doom inflected crust punk NUX VOMICA from Portland, Oakland mutants UZI RASH, Southern California psyche-punks WHITE FENCE, and Swedish garage stompers BLACK FEET. Plus, we have a look at the life and struggle of Russian anti-fascist activist “Vanya Kostolom” Khutorskoy, who was tragically murdered by Nazis at age 26; a Buffalo, NY scene report, and a look at a 1980s HC flyer archive in New Orleans: From Stapleguns to Thumbtacks. All of this madness along with the most extensive review section in punk rock, and all the columnists you love to hate!

Go to our BACK ISSUES page to order this issue.

Monday Photo Blog: Dod Morrison

May 9th, 2011 by

The prolific Dod Morrison dropped an email a few weeks ago with a link to his site, asking if we’d be into using any of his photos. Christ, there are tons of great photos there  – lots of the old, great UK bands from recent fests and the like. UK Subs, Cocksparrer, Anti Nowhere League, Skids, Rezillos, Discharge, GHB…and Willie Nelson! Anyway, Dod sent a small handful of photos for the photoblog. Do yourself a favor and check out his site though. Lots to look at.

Anti-Nowhere League at Punk & Disorderly Fest, Berlin, 2011 (photo by Dod Morrison)

The Subhumans (Dick Lucas) at Rebellion Fest, 2009 (photo by Dod Morrison)

UK Subs (Charlie Harper) at Cafe Drummonds, Aberdeen, July 2010 (photo by Dod Morrison)

Cocksparrer (Colin McFaull) at Punk & Disorderly, Berlin, 2011 (photo by Dod Morrison)

Agnostic Front at Rebellion Fest, 2010 (photo by Dod Morrison)

The Adicts at Ventura Theater, California, March 2011 (photo by Dod Morrison)

MRR Radio #1243 • 5/8/11

May 8th, 2011 by

MRR Radio is a weekly radio show featuring the best DIY punk, garage rock and hardcore from the astounding, ever-growing Maximum Rocknroll record collection. You can find the MRR Radio podcast, as well as specials, archives, and more info at radio.maximumrocknroll.com. Thanks for listening, and stay tuned!

THIS WEEK: Dan degenerates from sassy to sloppy over the course of 59 minutes.


White Wards

Intro songs:
BIG BOYS – Pil Beach / Shut Up

New shit
WHITE WARDS – Waste My Time
STRIPMINES – Sympathy Rations
COKE BUST – Keep Out
DEATH FIRST – Country Bleeds
BORN BAD – In the Dark
MUCH WORSE – Can’t Bullshit a Bullshitter

Cassette set
THE GIFT – Corpse Reviver
BROWN SUGAR – Superman
ANIMAL EYE – Eyes Sore / Staring at the Sun
PREGNANT – Toothache
LYBIANS – False Starts

Another dose of new shit, plus a booooootleg
SHARDS – Lycanthropic Discomfort
FY FAN – Inträngd och Instängd
SORRY EXCUSE – Eye for an Eye
TV GHOST – Sleep Composite
HEART ATTACK – Shotgun / God Is Dead

Cover set
KILLERLADY – Learn to Hate in the Eighties
CRUCIAL UNIT – Moral Majority
BOLD SLUG – Slugs Hate the Police

Outro song:
SOCIAL UNREST – Making Room for Youth


May 6th, 2011 by

We know this record is not new, but we got this review submission that we couldn’t resist from Cryptic Josh, whose mad ramblings you may recognize from the Grand Rapids Is Screaming website at grscreamer.com and the band Corrosive Kids

I’ve been kicking myself to write a review about this album by SKELETON PARTY & RELIGIOUS SS DISORDER for a long time, but I had to let it sink in. This album was released in 2010 and for the longest time Skeleton Party and different incarnations of RSSD have been a constant flashing blip on the radar screen of rock! My thoughts were to give the record a chance to surgical apply a tiny ear mite embryo into my cerebellum that would with time dissolve like Pepto Bismol and became host to my brain. When the record was finally through with my wasted, atrophied muscle, and the moment was tense with the hanging chad of hiatus, the record would rain down vomit of its own hell-bound volition onto the paper allowing people to see what a rare and raw decoupage it really is! There were some aspects I had to let collect on me like a fungoid-covered softball. I’ll admit there were times when I felt like a crime photographer flashing pics of a child’s spattered intestine writhing in flames incarnate, but the excitement I got from these roguish songs was virginal, and that’s what tells me that this split is worth shitting about.

To start off, each band provides a lyric sheet for a whole album’s worth of material: Skeleton Party’s side of the record is called Songs from Above, and I’m pretty sure RSSD doesn’t have a title for their album, though I could be wrong.

Religious SS Disorder (photo by Tony Lynch)

The rockers for Religious SS Disorder’s side are listed as Claire: vox; Corbin: drums; Matt: bass; Ryan: guitar; Mike: guitar. Right now, you can probably already see a storm cloud up ahead and predict a blizzard of battering guitar din and drum punishment… If so, your forecast is spot on! These stranglers of rock keep things at a dizzying out of focus pursuit! The band careens out of the speakers at pulsing jogs that speed and break down like a mad rooster running from a farmer with swinging hatchet that stops to peck at fallen seeds. Ryan and Mike’s guitars curve and twist like daggers doing the Watusi on exposed flesh! Chugging along with the spastic glee of a psychopath, they annihilate everything in their path, creating an impenetrable wall around Claire. Corbin’s drums act as a sealant, almost knocking in the nails of Claire’s exclusive coffin of sound that she inhabits. She agonizingly squawks from her isle of oblivion buried in a crevice of the mind’s eye — our lil’ eye boogers venting a myriad of personal grievances as well as societal beefs through her ear-splitting hardcore songs! If you’re a fan of Bikini Kill, the subject matter is of a similar stripe. A general disgust in surroundings, society, and the self, causing a ravenous thirst for change.

Although this is a grim record in scale, surprisingly, there were parts I found in the album (mostly towards the middle) where there’s this playful chiding amongst the screaming din. What is displayed is the uncanny balance of a wounded child and a fully actualized woman forcefully emerging through a womb slicked with acid! We the listeners are allowed to witness this primitive spectacle that leaves a crimson mess seeping off our record players…but who wants “pretty music” anyway??

Skeleton Party (photo by Emily Goble)

On the flip side, Skeleton Party plunges into the naked spotlight with a humungous wrecking ball aimed at clearing a path thru senile urban communities. The subject they’re loosely attacking is the home, and they’ve somehow soaked each song with potent gasoline that clears the room of hubris leaving only a do-or-die mentality that keeps the viewer on the ragged edge of Skeleton’s razorblade wit! I really appreciate the schizo persona Kolin plows thru each song with, which serves to fully accentuate their driving goal to make the listener paranoid of everyday living, or at least question the method to this madness. I can’t help myself — I’m a sucker for art that challenges the listener rather then feeds them through a bulging incontinence pipe!

Each song by Skeleton Party employs powerful hallucinatory methods of digging hot claws in listeners and planting cat scratch fever for life. I see Skeleton Party in league with science fiction writers like Philip K. Dick, J.G. Ballard, or atmospheric post-punkers like Joy Division, Comsat Angels, or Flipper, but pursuing an entirely different tact that is unlike these arch-relics of a forgotten past.

Careening head into China, “Highway Patrolman” is a rhinoceros of a song that takes any and all bystanders on a crashing waltz with gaping roadside attractions. This song is the perfect mind-quake to usher us into the shadowy “comfortable” subject of “Sequel,” that quite soon is revealed to be not a damn comforting after all! We are assailed by this band with simple revelations that for some reason we’ve resisted. Houses crumble, and welcome mats turn to dust under their sparse, riotous guitars that uproot any notion of stability, leaving us very shaky in our most intimate of places. Maybe I’m a sadist, but I enjoy when a musician prods me to the point where the blood pressure becomes radioactive, and these rock doctors won’t let up! Roltsch’s keyboards rain down like measured lightening upon the slashing conductors of sound coming from the geetars. And believe me, the keyboards are thoughtfully arranged; this isn’t some fly by night hootenanny. These boys create an aura here that is unlike anything I’ve heard or seen. The shafts of bleeding light that are illuminated by each preceding song come in varied shapes and sizes, and by the time we’ve reached ‘The Crossing” the revolving doors of the “Highway” and “Sequel” are still spinning like a shrink’s pocket watch as we’re once again engulfed by the nonsense inherit in housing… Excellently simplistic, well-laden lines like, “The front door creaks, it’s a signal, and my memory leaks all over the kitchen floor!” keep you far from casual as the Skeletons kick and thrash you through this caustic trip.

I will review no more, however because I want you to purchase said record! It’s up to you now, if you like rock ‘n’ roll there’s no other choice at this point. These bands have your number and they will hunt you down! Please insert record into any available orifice and enjoy the sacrificial burn it creates! Believe me, it will be worth every dime. For records please contact: or go to www.77records.net!!!

— cryptic josh

We Got Ways #2: NO FUCKER

May 5th, 2011 by

NO FUCKER – To Whom Tomorrow Belongs EP
NO FUCKER – Conquer the Innocent EP

In the previous installment of “We Got Ways”—your favorite online column revisiting the great DIY punk/HC records (both heralded and unheralded) from the decade known as the aughts—we discussed the YOUNG WASTENERS 12” that gives its name to this column. Today’s featured band represents a departure from the cute, immediately likeable, hyped-to-death Wasteners—Utica, NY’s NO FUCKER.

No Fucker’s career (now over?) has been strange. Their story begins with the two main cretins behind the band cutting their teeth in a more-or-less terrible crusty HC band called DEATHBAG, which existed just before NF’s emergence. Living in NYC in the early 2000s, I saw these upstate NY freaks on a number of occasions and didn’t think much of them either way. They were a typical opening band at some typical crusty HC shows. That is to say, both live and on record, Deathbag was nothing to lose sleep over. One day, I heard that the two Deathbag dudes had dissolved their band—rumor had it that they too had realized that they were nothing special—and started what was billed to me as a DISCHARGE worship band that would never release vinyl records. They dubbed their new band No Fucker — a brilliant and hilarious (albeit obscure) Dis- inspired band name if I ever heard one — and promptly released a pair of righteously raw demo cassette tapes. My interest was naturally piqued. After that, the no vinyl records rule apparently fell by the wayside, as two split EPs with Japanese idols DISCLOSE materialized in 2004, to go along with a few dates on that band’s brief West Coast U.S. tour. Growing ever fonder of their vicious output and live explosiveness, I assumed at the time that this association with Disclose was destined to get folks outside of New York State to start paying attention to what seemed at the time like a well-kept East Coast secret. After all, this era was one of the many heights of the Japanese noizecore craze in the U.S. punk scene, with bands like FRAMTID, FEROCIOUS X, and DEFECTOR (along with countless less worthy others) releasing records of varying quality that instantly sold out or were apparently distro’d only by eBay. Despite seemingly being in the right place at the right time, and being better than many of the more hyped bands, No Fucker didn’t gain the plaudits of their Japanese (to say nothing of PDX, Austin, or SF) brethren. After a few hurrahs on the Disclose tour, they slinked back to Utica, and slowly but surely released two EPs that didn’t seem to get too much credit or attention among any but the most obsessive. Their first EP (To Whom Tomorrow Belongs) got eviscerated in a snarkily dismissive MRR review—one of my great regrets is not double-reviewing this gem at the time—and their second EP (Conquer the Innocent) seemed to get passed by altogether by most tastemakers. By that point—five or six years after No Fucker had made their debut—time seemed to have passed them by. Of course, doomsday d-beaters knew their name, but too many seemed not to flip over their splits with Disclose often enough (too bad for them—the song “Anti-War” on the Overthrow split is a real mix-tape worthy stomper), and NF never seemed to get enough attention from the fashion-crazed myspace crust world or scenester festival circuit to even gain much T-shirt love. In fact, outside of a few diehards in Japan and New York, I can’t say I ever heard anyone give this band the attention it really deserves.

No Fucker (photo by Al Quint)

What’s up with that? I mean, it’s not as though this band was going against the trends. If anything, they began No Fucker just in time to start playing what quickly became the HC sound of their era—DISCHARGE influenced hardcore with layers of fucked up noize lifted straight from CONFUSE’s handbook. They were friends with popular Japanese bands. They even got some random (if unexpected, at least to me) accolades from noise-hipster types. They put out cool looking records with great songs. When I saw them in 2003 at ABC No Rio with DSB, they played one of the most exciting sets imaginable, getting so crazily into it that they managed to play their then best song (the aforementioned “Anti-War”) twice. When I saw them at a show with Sex Vid in NYC in 2007, they blew the Vid—who were no slouches themselves that night—off the stage with their outrageous barrage of feedback. Most importantly, from the early Deathbag days to the last No Fucker days this band just kept getting better and better. I could imagine them pulling a Black Flag and practicing for 10 hours a day in their small town in an attempt to perfect their noise-laden art. Even when I was listening to their first demo in 2002 thinking, “Hey, this is pretty cool!” I never imagined that I would walk out of that 2007 show thinking, “Holy shit, I just saw the best fucking band in America…”

Ultimately though, it seems that No Fucker was not a band that would easily get popular with the cool kids. After all, the backbone of the band was two strange and ugly dudes—one old, lizard-skinned ex-con (who eventually lost a finger and had to stop playing guitar and settle for just being NF’s vocalist) and one young, nerdy freak with his oversized T-shirts tucked in—two friends obsessed with obnoxious, crazy music in what might be the shittiest, poorest city in all of New York State. The other members of the band seemed not to matter much either; hilariously, No Fucker featured a series of indistinguishable bass players referred to both individually and collectively as “Fangboner.” And though they befriended similar noise heads like Kawakami from Disclose and Stuart from Game of the Arseholes, they did not seem interested in being schmoozy; on the contrary, they were kind of abrasive and even antisocial. Though I met and chatted with them a number of times throughout the years, I could never tell if they liked me, hated me, or even remembered who I was. They didn’t fuckin’ care about that shit—they made noize not music, and that was that. They released their records themselves (on a label they called No Real Music) to middling distribution, they didn’t seem to tour much if ever, and though they not-entirely-successfully attempted to get a DIY space up and running in Utica, they ultimately chose to live in that fucked up old industrial wasteland full of meth heads, junkies, and people whom time had passed by rather than moving to any available (and more fashionable) punk mecca.

Now about their two self-released EPs, which were meant to be the subject of this essay, and without which none of my bloviating would matter…

2006’s To Whom Tomorrow Belongs is the earlier of the two, and it betrays the simple musical key to their formula, which they would really perfect on 2008’s Conquer the Innocent. What is that key, you ask? Well, this band steals a lot of guitar parts and swagger from ANTI-CIMEX. Really, this writer’s ears hear a lot more Cimex in NF’s sound/songs than either Discharge or Disclose. And while this distinction is admittedly minute if not downright farcical—it’s not one that my mom would pick out, that’s for sure—the patented Cimex guitars-as-if-recorded-in-a-wind-tunnel sound gives No Fucker a sort of out-of-an-‘80s-Swedish-time-machine quality that their Japanese peers (with their 48 tracks of guitar distortion) lack. Like Disclose, however, No Fucker uses their vocals as more of a rhythmic instrument than a melodic one, sometimes punctuating their guitar riffs with even greater effect than Kawakami, the Japanese master himself. No Fucker’s lyrics are minimal, but they are perfectly timed and placed. The guitar leads are at once idiotic and sublime. Happily, No Fucker lacks any “heavy”/“crust” pretentions, maybe even more so than Disclose (because they avoid the palm-muted metallic-tinge of that Japanese band’s “Dis-Bones” era), but nonetheless No Fucker is not really a party/fun band. Instead, they represent the most punk ideal: a band outside of the spotlight that spends every minute of free time trying to make and perfect their hardcore art. In this sense, No Fucker was an art band in the strict meaning of that term, at least in the sense that they created substance out of their very specific style. And for a few brief songs on two all too brief EPs, No Fucker put themselves on par with the best of the 30-year pantheon of cult bands that have been totally and utterly devoted to excruciating guitar screeching, d-beat flailing, and lots of shoutin’ and screamin’.