Two early versions of songs that were renamed when they appeared on 2014’s Selected Recordings album. ACID BABY JESUS are from Athens, Greece. They incorporate some of their hometown’s traditional musical styles into their psychedelic garage rock. The result is droning, repetitive and slow with an unique atmospheric feel. I can picture lying on a rock by the ocean as the clouds move slowly overhead while listening to these songs. Groovy.
New raw garage in supergroup packaging, all by way of Tokyo. Boasting members from FADEAWAYS, FIRESTARTER, and most notably Fink from the almighty TEENGENERATE, the band has more aptitude than most. This LP burns in the red, and is the perfect amount of slightly deranged and perfectly out-of-sync. There is a pubescent joy that gets raked into the songwriting in a way that moves bodies to a beat, with the band’s backing harmonies being the sell. “That’s Enough,” “Bring Me Back,” and “Take It Or Leave It;” the record is teenage joy spun on a platter.
Tokyo punk lifers Fink (TEENGENERATE, RAYDIOS, RULER), Rayco (RULER), Toyozo (the FADEAWAYS), and a vocalist named Hercules (who appears to have spent time drumming in a handful of acts) team up to bring us this new group, which sounds like a true amalgam of their previous bands. Overall, things lean pub rock or power pop, but you can hear a little beat/garage in the mix as well as, of course, punk. It impressed the bigwigs over at Slovenly so much that they decided to simultaneously release this 7” and their debut LP. Both tracks are pretty great. “I Can’t Go Back” sounds a little like something that might have come off CHEAP TRICK’s Heaven Tonight had it been put out by a mid-’90s Rip Off Records band, and “New Generator” is more of a revved-up number that almost sounds like an Oi! band really leaning into their EDDIE AND THE HOTRODS and SLADE influences. I haven’t checked out that LP yet, but if this 7” is any indicator, it’ll be a ripper.
Songs of love, madness, and death, brought to you by some of Puerto Rico’s most notorious rockers. ARDILLAS predate DAVILA 666, with whom they share members, by a solid decade. They’re far less prolific—but hey, you can’t rush genius! Whereas DAVILA 666 was born of the garage, ARDILLAS seem to have emerged from the dense haze of a smoke-filled pub. This is premium rock’n’roll with just the right amount of grit to keep the sing-along choruses from getting too syrupy. More infectious than the boogie-woogie flu! After a few spins, these songs will be kicking around in the damp corridors of your noggin for days. Unafraid to embrace their prowess, ARDILLAS dig into big rhythms and expand out past the confines of your typical greasy-haired, leather jacket punk’n’roll. These cats (or should I say squirrels!?) know how to pen some quality tunes. There are nods to the HEARTBREAKERS, and FLAMIN’ GROOVIES. What more can you ask for? Here’s to hoping we won’t have to wait another decade for their next release.
First thing’s first. The title track is the most catchy, sing-along song about depression since BLACK FLAG’s. I also like that they were able to incorporate the phrase “I am a gentleman and a scholar” into the song without sounding goofy. Secondly, I do not like clowns. This cover photo is downright revolting. But in this case, these demented clowns are A-OK with me. BIPOLAR is out of Brooklyn, NY via Tehran, Iran. Their music is a high-energy, synth-led punk. In addition to “Depression,” there is also “Virus,” “Fist Fight,” and appropriately “Sad Clown.” Short bursts of frenetic exuberance. Fun stuff.
This record starts off with a warm guitar hum that’s almost ethereal. Then the vocals come in softly with some reverb while the drums build quickly in the distance. It feels like I’m being transported to a far-off land of mystery and fantasy, and that’s just the song “Ventanas Emergentes” (“Pop-Up Windows”). The next track comes in hard with their singer’s gruff, powerful shouts that carry a strong melody. I can’t get over how fantastic the guitar layering is, though I think they only have one guitar player. As a whole, their songs are post-punk inspired, fuzzy, angry, and sung completely in Spanish as they are from Madrid. My Spanish isn’t strong enough to translate it all, but from the album title (Big Screen) and song titles like “2K20″ and “Error 404,” it’s not hard to sort out that this record is about technology. From the tone of the songs and what I’ve been able to find online in interviews, Gran Pantalla covers the dystopian cyber-hellscape of today with so many people transfixed by their phones/tablets/smart TVs/etc. BIZNAGA’s music is dripping with passion and drive. I love the treatment of cymbals in their recording—just these far off splashes that still pound and shimmer over the guitar and bass. Songs are fast and so fucking energetic. Bands like this reaffirm my love for reviewing records because had MRR not assigned this one to me, I might have never been introduced to their beauty and power.
Not really memorable at all. I’ve never really been a fan of that NEW YORK DOLLS style of punk, and this seems to fit right in with that. Just really boring, felt overly long for an album of that style. Honestly, come to think of it, I can’t remember a single lyric off of this thing. It would be one thing if they actually tried something original with their sound, but no, they continued to water it down with crappy production and mediocre (at best) performances. Yawn.
This local band is the latest Greg Ripoff combo. A fun garage punk romp with dual male/female vocals. On their second full-length, they have a new woman on co-vocals, and the songs are short simple, and catchy. A fun band live as well, if you can tolerate an insult or two.
Sophomore entry from this Cedar Rapids unit (get it?), notable in my mind for featuring Andy from the HORRORS, a long-time bash maestro fave. Dick Moves sorta leaps out beyond expectations, defying garage in favor of sleaze-fire hootenanny, noisy with suitably busted hip-hop influences throbbing throughout. Hearty stuff, the kind of a stick-to-your-ribs exploder tailored for the after-hours set.
The slinky ’60s organ on this will make you cry 96 tears, the rhythm section has a collapsing beat that almost feels like watching a movie about mechanical failure, the repetition inherent in the sound is hypnotic and eternal… and the vocals add to this mystery. Recommended for demanding cultists and mindless transcendentalists.
Pete Slovenly has been putting out records for over twenty years now, and for whatever reason, he’s decided that it’s high time his label embraced the world’s worst format. That’s right, Slovenly’s first split 7”! Two bands giving you about two-and-a-half minutes apiece. I feel like this format is annoying even digitally, but whatever. First up, we’ve got the Venetian band DESTROY ALL GONDOLAS with a track called “Death by Hamburger.” Now, you might be tempted, like I was, to assume that this is some bullshit, 2009-style food-themed garage pop. And I hate to have to spoil the reaction you’d have going into this thinking as much, but this is decidedly not that. This is closer to something like RESEARCH REACTOR CORP. mixed with MOTÖRHEAD. And if they’re singing about hamburgers or whatever, you can’t tell, because the vocals are heavily processed and really buried in the mix. It’s absolutely fucked and kind of rips. GŪTARA KYŌ is out of Kobe, Japan, and they’re giving us two tracks that are certainly less full-on than the A-side. Still a pretty rowdy affair. They play super blown-out garage punk, not unlike their compatriots GUITAR WOLF, with more of a noise rock edge, with things even getting a little dancy at points. Reminds me a bit of the pre-A FRAMES band BEND SINISTER. I’m into it! I’ll even admit that the two sides of this record kind of compliment each other nicely. Still, I’d rather have a 7” from each band.
First record in over a decade from Spain’s DOCTOR EXPLOSIÓN. Great collection of songs here that bring to mind KING KHAN AND THE SHRINES melded with the MAMAS & THE PAPAS. This may sound like a weird concoction, but it works well. What you get here is a combination of the raw energy of a ’70s garage rock band and the bittersweet sentimentalism of golden-age oldies radio. Very partial to the vocals here, which sound like they’re coming from the deepest depths of an AM receiver in an old station wagon. Guitar work is incredible with licks for days. Great summer jams for those hot days where you sit around and do nothing but drink beer and sweat your ass off.
A re-sequenced reissue of OC legends EDDIE AND THE SUBTITLES’ 1981 LP Skeletons in the Closet is an interesting artifact, in that it plays more like a compilation than a cohesive album. It’s a juxtaposition of diverse styles that seem to represent different eras and mindsets for the band. This record could be successfully disassembled to create three separate and distinct bodies of work—a brief KBD-esque collection of punk-tinged rock’n’roll procedures like the opening trifecta of “Zombie Drug Killers,” “No Virgins in Hollywood,” and “American Society,” a record of goth-y, synth-heavy pop tunes, and an album where EDDIE reveals his swingin’ ’60s rock roots, which gets very goofy. “Bobbin’ Little Bobcat,” for instance, makes the STRAY CATS sound like SLAYER in comparison. Some of this also seems to be a direct reflection of the band’s live shows playing alongside the CIRCLE JERKS and other heroes of the period, with the inclusion of covers like “Louie Louie” and “Movin’ On.” Rather than be choosy, it seems that EDDIE & co. opted to put in everything they had going on at the time here and wrap it all up in an awesome Shawn Kerri cover that makes this record worth owning all by itself.
Coming from Valencia, Spain, FINALE brings a chaotic mix of off-kilter post-punk grooves and smashing hardcore chroruses. Instrumentally, these tracks are absolutely fantastic. They’re sharp and clean, somewhere between JOY DIVISION and DEAD KENNEDYS. The vocals are a little hard to get over. The high-pitched goofiness of the delivery comes off like sped-up WEEN vocals. It meanders back and forth from annoying to funny in a darkly absurd way. If you can look past that aspect, there is a lot to love here.
A fluctuating debut EP from a Canadian four-piece that brings together what sounds like (and comes off as) unfinished song after unfinished song. This is rough, I can’t grasp any of it without pondering what the amount or type of substances consumed to produce this body of work could possibly have been. Each song becomes progressively more annoying throughout the six songs, with the climax at the end with “Your Shopping Cart Misses You.” Blag Dahlia is somewhere on this EP, but I could not make him out on any track. Bad apples.
Another great record from GINO AND THE GOONS. I’m even
saying that with a skronking sax blasting in the first few seconds of “She Was Crushed.” Sax jokes aside, this EP contains four cool garage punk smashers. Catchy and fun danceable tunes for jumping around and spilling your beer. Oh yeah.
A reissue of the third and my personal favorite LP by these Florida garage punkers. This album is just so great: a non-stop rocking experience featuring amazing songs, performed perfectly, and delivered with the perfect amount of attitude. Any band, from any decade, undoubtedly wishes this was their album. “Outta Control” may be the best rock song of the 21st century. It’s so damn catchy. If you missed out on this the first time around, there is no longer any excuse not to own this. Fantastic.
These Danes wear a contemporary Melbourne punk influence on their sleeves, but this snappy trio of tracks burns its own rubber on its own terms. Catchy, angry, and with a satisfying motorik approach to rhythm, these odes to alienation hit just right. There’s a tinge of early 2000s garage rock revival that the band might disavow, but it adds catchiness to the mix that carries you through the somewhat bloated runtime of a track like “Dead Intruder.” There are good ideas here executed well and with an authentic edge that never once feels like a put-on. I can’t wait to hear more!
An album of catchy, modern-style new wave post-punk featuring Annie Sparrows of the SOVIETTES and Jim Blaha of the BLIND SHAKE. The guitars and drums chatter with the bass pulses. The music they make is jumpy and jittery then it mellows out for a song before getting all excitable again. The female and male collaborative vocals sound great together and remind of a more polished LOST SOUNDS. I like it.
Long-player #2 for this Greek duo. Within seconds, it’s clear that Lust In Peace avoids any lazy two-piece trappings, and that something a lot more ominous is afoot here. Rhythms generally thud, vocals chastise, and strings are mangled while an uneasy static grows and grows. There’s no comfort in the groove they build, but still so much to hear—experimental, fearful, and extreme as their sound may be. There is nothing “garage” about this either, just pure cacophonous, uneasy listening that prompts repeat plays. A very impressive record, and one that anyone prone to neg-vibe explorations should seek out.
There aren’t many female-led bands doing the unhinged TY SEGALL garage thing these days. So it’s really nice to have this debut album from LADRONES. Vocalist Valeria Sánchez has a wild style with frantic yelps and elongated howls. The band plays frenzied, distorted garage punk. It sounds great. The best song, “La Pichaera,” sounds like it could be an outtake from the debut DAVILA 666 album. It’s so catchy and driving and makes you want to sing along. Excellent album.
French power pop punkers LES LULLIES are back with their second full-length album, a long-awaited followup to 2018’s self-titled LP also on Slovenly Records. Mauvaise Foi (which translates to “Bad Faith” for the non-French speakers) sheds the garage-y production elements of previous efforts in favor of a more deliberate and layered approach. Frankly, this is a big step up from the prior releases, which were already nothing to balk at. What emerges is an album that manifests both style and substance in spades. LES LULLIES don’t shy away from their influences, but their synthesis of ’77-style punk with power pop and ’60s garage rock yields results that are inarguably original. Their songs are hook-laden earworms that will burrow into your brain sac and extract your fondest memories of listening to the REAL KIDS, TESTORS, and the BOYS. If you’ve been jamming the DOGS’ recent The Melody Massacre Years collection, or EXPLODING HEARTS’ Guitar Romantic reissue, throw this in the rotation. You’ll be glad you did.
Two songs of SULTAN’s unique garage rock croon. Poppy, peppy and romantic(ish), this is modern doo-wop with a punk rock tinge. Catchy and fun.
On the one hand, reviewing the third full-length album from the Bay Area’s MIDNITE SNAXXX should be quick work. I could just tell you that this is simply the very best punk record of 2019 and leave it at that. And honestly, that could be enough. But I am a devoted MIDNITE SNAXXX disciple, and I need to tell you so much more. I need to tell you that Music Inside is a picture-perfect mix of snotty and sweet. I need to tell you that no one sings about cyborgs or gentrification more memorably than the SNAXXX’ dynamic frontperson Dulcinea Gonzalez. That this band alone proves that punk is somehow not yet dead. That I make coffee in the morning listening to this record, that I blast it while walking down the streets of my crumbling city, that I hum the songs to myself when I’m falling asleep at night, and then wake up and do it all over again. If you want just one song to convince you, it’s the monster title track, which will fit snugly on your next mixtape (or S*****y playlist) next to anything from the RAMONES to the BRAT to the LOST SOUNDS and back again. If you’re not yet a convert, give it a listen or three, and join the rest of us true believers.
When you’ve got this band’s chops, two songs are all you need to make a point. The down-picked chug of the single’s opener pushes uncut adrenaline right out of the gate, and both tracks keep up a blistering momentum throughout. This band has only gotten more fiery and exciting over their decade-plus in existence, and these tracks continue to up the ante. The guitar work is scrappy, furious, and wonderfully weird, and lead vocalist Dulcinea continues to command attention with a presence that’s impossible to ignore. I can’t wait for more.
Members of the SHEIKS (one of Jack Oblivian’s backing bands) and EX-CULT backed by one of MR. QUINTRON’s drum buddies from this Memphis supergroup. With a pedigree this cool, it would be hard to go wrong. MODEL ZERO does not disappoint. Theirs is a retro futuristic style with whirly synths and repetitive beats. The vocals are soulfully plaintive. Plus it’s got a wacky edge. Buy this.
This wonderful Polish band releases their first full-length of wild, ferocious and simply amazing chaotic rock’n’roll. It is impossible not to think of ANGRY SAMOANS as a reference but it also reminded me a bit of ANNIHILATION TIME. Advice? Listen loudly!
At this point, I feel like everyone should know about the phenomena of PERSONAL AND THE PIZZAS. How a band from New Jersey decided to take the RAMONES and turn them into a band that mostly sings about pizza is both disturbing and genius. I’m not sure it really needs to be reviewed. The thing sort of speaks for itself. I will say that it is well-done. I guess that’s a detail worth talking about.
This is cool. Super bouncy and fierce dayglo-style punk from Valencia, Spain. This was once a one-person show and now it’s a full-on steamroller of fun (that’s a full band to you). My mandatory attempts at comparisons may liken them to the SPITS, EPOXIES, TYRADES, and ALASKA Y LOS PEGAMOIDES. Favorite tunes me like are their theme song “Pódium,” “Magia Negra” (of course), “Psicopata,” and “La Noche.” The whole package is what one needs in their headphones as they ride a motorcycle down the coasts of Spain. If you stare at the cover long enough you see God. What more can you possibly want?
The second TAV FALCO-sounding band I am reviewing this month. I understand it. He’s got a cool style. This one is from Denmark. Two songs of garage-y rock with a lo-fi dirty attitude. The A-side “Back Stab” utilizes “motherfucker” quite a bit. “Nedtur” is in Danish, so it could also be using that word for all I know. Even still, the songs are catchy and edgy. Interesting stuff.
Insistent, kinetic fuzzed-out punk pop. Itchy repetitive guitar riffs serve as foil to the just-this-side-of-annoying keyboard melodies that drive the songs. The vocalist’s delivery is snotty yet deadpan, detached yet sneering: little escapes their disdain. PRIORS pound their way through fourteen songs here, most of which come in around the two-minute mark, save for the epic title track, which despite its five-minute-plus is no slow burner.
Montreal buzz’n’scuzz. The title track recalls the streamlined charge of the POINTS: totally breakneck, modern and impressive. The tunes on the flip twitch a bit more, particularly “Swelter,” which may be the crown jewel of the affair. No subtlety to be seen, just pure drive. A nice jaunt for the chemically-enhanced in our readership.
Imagine if Beavis and Butt-Head had eventually, um, Grown Up Fucked Up, somehow learned to read via overtly sexist garage rock zines, and got into the GERMS and the JABBERS more than GWAR, and you’re enough of the way there. Gross declarations of sexual frustration and an accompanying music video for the song “Cocksucker” on Pornhub (I’m not kidding) turn to creepy stalking and kidnapping fantasies with the song “Predator.” The decent garage scuzz underneath you can find elsewhere without all this nonsense.
While it’s good enough to hold my attention, this glam-focused single isn’t my favorite thing I’ve heard all month. The A-side starts off well enough, but it feels like it’s supposed to go somewhere, and it just doesn’t. Jesus, finish me. The B-side is a little less glam and a little more punk, but it still is missing something for me. Sort of mid-tempo and catchy, just not compelling. I feel like Slovenly is generally pretty dependable. I’d say this was a little disappointing.
Slovenly remains the standard bearer for rock’n’roll that’s vital and unstuck from time. SLANDER TONGUE brings a megaton of swagger from Germany in a debut that’s beyond self-assured. You know that rare balance a band strikes where not a note feels out of place but is backed by enough grit that it never feels sterile? That’s the magic trick of these eleven cuts—unrelenting, big bad windmill-strummed guitar anthems that make you want to saw the roof off your car and go for an endless drive. There’s so much that can go wrong in this genre, and a lot of rock imitators sound too scrubbed up or washed out, but those common pitfalls are avoided with smart decisions made on the page and in the sound booth. Songs like “Shattered Girl” really showcase the goods—an anchored rhythm in the drums and bass that ride clean throughout wiry riffing that goes all over without losing the plot. Throw in some backup harmony and you’ve got a potent brew to keep coming back to.
Slovenly Records and Sticker Guy Pete never fail to release some no-frills, hard rockin’ garage punk. Vancouver’s SORE POINTS are no exception and rage here through four songs that could compare to the best of the INFECTIONS, USERS, or Canada’s SUBHUMANS. “Not Alright” is a current personal anthem, but “Not Coming Back” is the one that kills it for me. Thanks Pete.
Great collection of snaky, noisy post-punk jams from this Reno, NV band. Instrumental opener “Intro” gives a table of contents of sorts with strummed indie guitars that build with shimmering distortion and chiming, atonal layers à la SST-era SONIC YOUTH. This is punk, but it’s been soaking in psych, desert-dirge country, and deathrock, and left in the sun to bake. “Spirit Trouble Flash” builds and releases heavy guitars along syncopated drum beats until the chorus hits, and it really hits. Tracks like “Not This, Not This” and “Devil’s Bloom” pound a menacing bass and drums cadence until serpentine post-everything guitar lines creep in and hover over the sound like dripping icicles. “In Menace Meadow” takes us to the dunes with clean strums and slide guitar twang. Check this out when you’re in the mood for expertly produced dark, knotty punk.
STILL ANIMALS’ self-titled album offers ten tracks of mid-tempo garage rock over twenty-six minutes, delivering an inoffensive, straightforward sound that might be more engaging in a live setting. Hailing from St. Louis, Missouri, the four-piece plays with energy, but I kept hoping they would eventually turn it up to eleven and they never even got close. By the fourth track, the lack of variation makes the LP feel a bit monotonous. It’s fine, there just aren’t any memorable moments to be found here other than the song title “Here’s a Song,” which I thought was hilarious.
The right kind of lifer just does it better, as clearly evidenced here by longtime ‘roller Andrew Mozynski (the DEADLY SNAKES) and cohorts (especially Ryan Rothwell of POW WOWS on guitar, bass and vocals). From track one, this full-length hits hard from the pocket. The drums pound with the kind of raw force and precision-with-a-swing you could almost sample—an erstwhile “amen” break from the garage. These songs are immaculate, styled well but authentic, with plenty of pop, echo, and grit. Jay Lemak brings the garage sound with beautifully blown-out organ and the guitar cuts like a razor. Here’s a thing I don’t bring up enough that shines here, too: the tracklist. Not everyone knows how to guide the vibe of an LP, but each of these songs builds a narrative. It takes some smarts to not let the energy out of the room, and somehow by the time you get to mid-album burner “Sea of Tranqs,” it still gives you extra juice you didn’t know the band was capable of, only to follow with a dark night of the soul highway mood piece “Valley of No Return” to cool you off. Every piece is in the right place, and if it seems like I’m raving, I am. Finding new jolts in garage is hard, and sometimes that’s why you gotta go to the experts. The record has been out for some time, so quit sleeping on it and grab a copy.
Wow, I don’t remember the last time I actually listened to a SUBSONICS record. I often used them as comparisons for a certain style of voodoo-ish CRAMPS and GUN CLUB worshippers. Slagging them off as just a rehash of the aforementioned bands would be a mistake, as the originality of this Atlanta band shines through very clearly on this reissued second LP. I always thought they looked reeeally cool, and I seem to recall having a little fan crush on their drummer, Buffi, in my youth. The influence of the VELVET UNDERGROUND is something I’d not heard before, with the occasional Lou Reed-ish deadpan vocal and jangly rhythmic guitar. My unfounded reasons for dismissing them as not punk enough at the time because they weren’t taped on some shitty boombox are completely unfounded, as this holds up better than some of those Rip Off Records releases. The EVERLY BROTHERS, BEACH BOYS, ELVIS, and ESQUERITA can all be heard here in some really heartfelt songwriting on tunes like “No Such Animal.” Shit, the CRAMPS pretty much just did covers anyway. Check it out, and pick up the first one while you’re at it, too.
Vinyl issue of Atlanta garage rockers’ debut album from 1992. Classic garage that has more in common with the SONICS or even CARL PERKINS than it does with their contemporaries like NEW BOMB TURKS or DEAD MOON. These sixteen tracks are built around clean strummed guitars with surfy leads and ’50s-style affected rockabilly vocals. If it weren’t for songs about Charles Manson (“I’m Charly, I’m Jesus”) and heroin (“Heron Addict’s Beach Party”), I would have dated this as a much earlier release. The songs are all competently performed—twangy leads and yelpy crooning—and are recommended if you are a rock’n’roll classicist. There’s even a surfy, reverbed instrumental (“Red Roses”) that would fit nicely next to LINK WRAY on an early rock compilation. I like a little more grit to my garage, but this is well-done if the older old school is your jam.
I’m sure this is already sold out, as it features King Khan and Bloodshot Bill (not Barbecue Bill, as I have written down here in my notes), so act fast, if that’s your thing. I think you kinda know exactly what to expect with this. Super bare-boned, early BILLY CHILDISH-inspired, distorted even though it’s acoustic, wonderful harmonies, yet still ridiculously simple. I feel this shit gets more credit than it deserves, but at the same time, it’s really fucking good. Yeah, I wanna be a snob and hate on this real bad, but I just can’t do that.
Kitchen-sink punk noise from Mexico City. TELEKRIMEN are about as “garage punk” as a band like early LOST SOUNDS were, which is a wonderful thing: dark and bloody punk with a recognizable ’60s garage foundation, but damaged enough that it mutates into something more interesting. The less-compelling moments (barely-beyond-trad surf and R&B swipes) are basically just workouts designed for live gyration rather than at-home pondering, so sweat appears to be of more concern that brains here. Fitting as they probably kick ass live.
Has it really been fourteen years since the first TH’ LOSIN STREAKS LP? Well, that certainly is too long to wait for a second album. During those lost years they may have discovered a time machine and gone to London to play some gigs at the Railway Hotel. This Band Will Self-Destruct in T-Minus has a mod-y garage rock feeling reminding me of a more restrained, early period the WHO. The songs are catchy. The guitar playing is punchy and crisp. Great album.
Rock’n’roll serves those who give themselves to it completely. I know a band of lifers when I hear one, and it’s always exciting. This Sacramento group has been around, and while this grip of tracks doesn’t exactly break new ground for them, it cuts like a knife through the pale flab of pretenders that make up most of contemporary garage. There are more polished R&B affairs stacked next to ferocious and fiercely-paced ragers like the hook-laden “Cake and Ice Cream Too,” plus everything in between. The production really shines, somehow keeping the piss and grit baked into these songs while also shimmying them up mighty pretty. The playing is all top of class, especially the nimble guitar work and full-throated vocal performances. There’s even a damn decent ballad in the mix, the surprisingly tender and bittersweet “For a While.” The standout has to be the bombastic, melodic, and nearly operatic “Cooler Heads.” It swings like an axe all the way to hell and back, ending in true chaotic clatter. There’s not a note out of place on this record, but while that can sometimes read as too sterile, it only serves to bolster the true spirit of rock music and of this band.
These Dutch masters (haw-haw) of surf-tinged rockabilly garage have been a Euro staple for more years than I’ve paid attention. They play a punker version of what their Swiss peers/elders the MONSTERS have been doing forever. The singer has a crooning, almost REVEREND HORTON HEAT style of singing, but all comparisons aside, these people can stand on their own merit quite well. Nine songs speed by in a blur, leaving you spun and dizzy from head-bobbing and hip-shaking, and I imagine vast amounts of hash and beer. “Steppin Out” is the best. Yay. Proost.
New Zealand scum punks the CAVEMEN return with four tracks of their particular brand of theatrical faster-and-louder rockn’roll. The results are solid, with nothing feeling particularly evolved from last year’s full length Night After Night. But that’s not really the point with music designed to hit hard and as to-the-point as possible. It’s a good bit of fun, though the music does sound a bit friendlier than I might expect from titles such as “Eat Your Heart & Wear Your Face.” There’s something charming about the band’s preoccupation with writing “evil” tunes, I just wish I believed them a smidge more. Less cracking wise and more cracking skulls!
I’m not sure why, but this record has a sort of Rip Off Records feel to it. Maybe it’s the black and white paper sleeve. Maybe it’s the relatively lo-fi production. If you’re a fan of straightforward punk rock that is raw and gritty, but still catchy and melodic, this is definitely for you. The B-side even gets a little swampy, but doesn’t lose the feel of the other cuts. This is worth going out of your way to find.
Traditionally, I would object to any band cleaning up their sound. I mostly prefer my records to sound like the live experience: distorted, messy, and lo-fi. Even though I love all the other CAVEMEN records, I have to admit I am glad they cleaned it up a bit for this one. Night After Night is filled with stronger songs and better melodies. The playing is top notch, and the vocals powerful and tough. The songs retain the attitude and tastelessness I expect. They’ve developed into a more thrash-y version of the DICTATORS and I like it.
These MONSTERS are a Swiss trash-garage combo that started kicking rocks way back in the ’80s and are fronted by the honorable Rev. Lightning Beat Man. Beat Man runs Voodoo Rhythm Records, so the dude is not a stranger to loud-ass dirt rock, but I was still surprised by the grit that’s caked over these new recordings. The A-side is a hi-energy rave-up that shows a generation of Burger-fed youth how it’s done. Gnarly. “Carpool Lane” slows down just a hair so that herk-jerk verses can alternate with heavy bursts of fuzz as an analog synth zaps the aliens lurking on the side of the road. A cassette version slathers on a host of extra tracks.
Listen to this shit. It was records like this that steered Tim Yo away from hardcore (and emo) in the ’90s and damn near turned MRR into a fucking garage rock fanzine. You know why? Listen to this shit. This is punk, you punk! Switzerland’s the MONSTERS have been a band since I was still getting ink on my fingers once a month, and they’re still dropping steaming piles of shit-hot fire on your turntable like they don’t give a shit where they shit. Because these motherfuckers are punk. Their suits are punk. Their two-riff songs are punk. Their blown-out solos are punk. Apparently there’s a version in English, but I’m gonna be so shitfaced before the first side is over that I won’t be able to speak (in any language). Volume is the international language of punk though, so crank the mindfuck titled “Mitfahr Glägeheit” and see god, you punk. If you can’t get down with cranked-out, fuzz-storm garage mania, then what are you even doing with your life?
The OKMONIKS give us another LP of punk-infused garage rock. What else would they call their second album, if their first is called Party Fever!!!? This band usually has a really driving beat with some great-sounding vocals, and often there is some really rocking guitar/organ interplay. My favorite on this is a song called “Next Worse Thing.” This is a great LP for fans of garage rock/punk or just having a good time.
The Q-TIPS are a synth punk duo from Munich, made up of Ms. Juliette (sequencing) and Mr. Brotzeit (programming). They also apparently refer to themselves as “The Kids of the Drill Hole.” Anyway, they play trash can/KBD punk similar to the SPITS but with a harsher industrial sound, interspersed with cartoony bleeps and bloops. The production on these four tracks really packs a wallop—the overall sound is crunchy and satisfying—and the vocal performance is pretty great. But—I don’t know—the songs just aren’t there for me. Maybe if they played them a little more straight or really leaned into the numbskullery, but as-is I found this to be a pretty middling release. I know you’re generally not supposed to do this, but I think if you take a look at the cover, you’ll be able to judge whether or not this is for you.
They did it again! After the excellent Here Come LP in 2018, they come back now in 2020, once more with an amazing power pop, punk explosion. This power trio from Sudbury, Ontario gives us brilliant and cool classic punk, just like BUZZCOCKS but also something like the #1S. I can’t stop listening since they released this EP! A sad fact that it only lasts four songs; waiting anxiously for the next records.
This is pretty rad. A not-at-all-modern-anymore noisyasfuck take on the garagecore genre permiates this band’s tainted soul. With the amount of screech and distortogration dripping from this wax, I want to immediately cry “Japan!” typing out random blurts of TEENGENERATE, Bag of Hammers-era GUITAR WOLF and even CONFUSE and GAI. This would sorely miss pinning this band to the mat in any kind of style or substance though. From their photos, the thin moustached hipster look of fourteen years ago has not been lost, but seeing that these gents are from Russia, I am left humbled by their mighty Euroness and ten-years-behindness. Total Rejects begins and ends with a spooky synth soundtrack to a Russian monologue not of my easy deciphering but surely having clues on how to control the president. Sandwiched in between are wonderfully angst-ridden psalms easy for one to slam spit or dance to, often precluded by a Ginnlike squeal of feedback. The REATARDS might be an easy go-to comparison but this mind is whisked back in time to days and lost evenings listening to the likes of the CARBONAS, BEAT BEAT BEAT, GAYE BLADES and the late BOBBY UBANGI if only for their spirit, attitude and facial hair stylings. Love it. Buy it!
Garage goes to the future. Black Gladiator’s fuzz-covered tribute to “the originator” features a mix of covers and what could better be described as DIDDLEY-based sound experiments. About half of the tracks are pretty straightforward, while songs from acts like ATOMIC SUPLEX and ANDY CALIFORNIA take the primitive stomp to more imaginative places. Highlights include HAUNTED GEORGE’s shamanic interpretation of “Mummy Walk,” an epic two-parter from TRUE SONS OF THUNDER, and, of course, “Down Home Special” from GINO AND THE GOONS. After all, it was GINO who sent me the dime bag of actual dirt from BO DIDDLEY’s grave with their 2018 Rip It Up LP. Anyway, if you like old-timey rock and also techno, this record was made for you.
Brandon Welchez from CROCODILES and Johnny Otis Davila aka Dr. Papi, from DAVILA 666, joined forces in Mexico City to form XENU AND THE THETANS. It’s as if they had been held back by their previous musical endeavors and decided to play as fast as possible. Luckily, they are able to pull it off without sounding unhinged or disjointed. The drummer is pretty great. Excellent cover of the SAINTS’ “This Perfect Day,” sung in Spanish.
This guitar-drums-organ trio of heavy-hitters from the likes of CHROME CRANKS and TRANS AM announce themselves with swagger. Two thick-necked, grinding garage rock numbers with the sweaty intensity of a rawer JOHN REIS project.
