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Please send vinyl (preferred), CD, or cassette releases to MRR, PO Box 3852, Oakland, CA 94609, USA. Maximum Rocknroll wants to review everything that comes out in the world of underground punk rock, hardcore, garage, post-punk, thrash, etc.—no major labels or labels exclusively distributed by major-owned distributors, no reviews of test pressings or promo CDs without final artwork. Please include contact information and let us know where your band is from!
This band really is strange. Distinctive, too. The A-side consists of a long, arty dirge punctuated by a scratchy slide guitar; the flip has one slow moody piece, and one fast, rhythmic number with a punky aesthetic that saves this release for me. Definitely not for everyone, but that’s probably good.
On side one, a FALL influence is celebrated, with a similar lyrical distain for tribes and trends. They tackle the pitfalls of suburban life in a direct and humorous way with no wasted words. They let loose on side two with a more original sound; “The Long Ride” is particularly great. It’s fair to say that they’re musically in synch with MISSION OF BURMA and the MINUTEMEN.
It’s hard to believe that this nifty little record comes from Ann Arbor, a laid-back town that has never been a fertile environment for hardcore punk. The STATE present thrashed-out stuff characterized by a primitive metallic guitar, commonsense political lyrics, and a certain degree of instrumental sloppiness. “Attention” is especially hot, with its roaring stop/start structure and singalong “Yes sir/No sir” chorus. A fine debut effort.
This is a real spiffy debut. “You Don’t Fit” is a supercharged punk rock song with an irresistible chorus, “Suburbia” is a slow, sarcastic attack on middle-class superficiality, and “Sex With Sheep” is one of the year’s best funnypunk efforts. Impressive all around.
The SECRET SYDE is a high quality neo-’60s band. Unlike the wimpy approach taken by so many California ’60s revival bands, they borrow many of their better elements of that era. Specifically, they write well-crafted songs containing melodic hooks, without sacrificing the drive and power. Most of the tracks here have a solid rhythm and loud guitars, there are a couple of extended psychedelic jams, and “Hurt and Pain” is a minor ’60s pop-punk classic. Go for this one.
ROSEMARY’S BABIES have some obvious MISFITS influence on their debut EP, so if you liked those Garden State ghouls, R.B. should suffice. The music is in the more thrashed-out style, as opposed to the pure form of horror rock. Fair.
The third album from Portland’s RATS is slicker and better-produced than the first two, but it also suffers from inconsistent material. Their earlier semi-punk sound has almost been completely eradicated by a more rockish approach. Some of the songs are real good—”Deterioration” has lots of unsubtle drive, “Leave Me Alone” reminds me a bit of LOVE, “Broken Wire Telephone” is a catchy post-punkish track with a super guitar riff, “My Tragedy Behind” has a heavier ’60s punkadelic feel, etc.—but others are unbelievably atrocious. I like about 40% of it, but everyone should listen before buying.
Another new Mutha record. PUBLIC DISTURBANCE has a somewhat incoherent stop/go semi-thrash style. The faster songs often sound thin and occasionally degenerate into mediocrity, but the band’s slower material (“Caged”, “Intro”, and “Russel’s Ramp”) sticks in your head. Overall, though, this release seems a bit premature; these guys need to develop more.
Some raunchy ’60s-type garage punk in the STANDELLS mold. I really love this fuzzed-out music; it’s too bad the lyrics can’t be updated to the ’80s, though. Still, it’s boss.
Not to be confused with the defunct Monterey group of the same name, this band has more in common with, say, SUBURBAN MUTILATION in terms of noise, distortion, and intensity—garage to the max! I can’t hear the words for shit, as they’re spit out at 150 mph and subjected to the kind of recording techniques that were probably used in the 1920s, but there’s one song called “Fags Suck” which they “oh-so-intelligently” dedicate to the CLITBOYS. This is followed by “Live Your Life!” Sheer genius, right?
This bracing album by Tucson’s CONFLICT pairs piercing female vocals with a thrashy guitar assault; the result is both unique and exciting. Rockers like “Fester” and “Human Cargo” rate as my favorites, but CONFLICT are also quite adept at change-of-pace and slower punk numbers. The lyrics, which sometimes emphasize women’s concerns, are particularly refreshing.
Pretty intense power thrash. Some songs have those slow metal intros with Handsome Dick Manitoba growls, and then launch into straight-ahead crunching stuff. It’s nothing original, but it hits hard, especially “Nuclear Threat,” which is a killer.
A. FRONT’s music is ultra-frenetic, intense, and to the point—they sure don’t waste time with any unessentials. What distinguishes them from other New York groups like the MOB and URBAN WASTE is their apparent Oi influence, which manifests itself particularly in their growling guitar, their appearance, and—possibly (but hopefully not) in their ideas. I can’t really tell what the hell they’re talking about, but this EP is downright nasty.
An uncommonly intelligent garage-flavored EP by a new Michigan band. “Apathy” and “Going Nowhere Slow” are loud, mid-tempo garage punk cuts; “You’re One Too” is a chunky semi-thrasher with outstanding lyrics; and “Mummy From Hollywood” is a fast blast with an unbelievably catchy chorus that gives anti-Reagan sentiments a new “wrinkle.” Highly recommended.
A suitable mixture of retardation, one natural (G.G.), one contrived (ARTLESS). G.G.’s SCUMFUCS belt out a couple of sleazily recorded garage guitar classics like “Drink, Fight, and Fuc.” Mykel Board’s ART and ARTLESS perform some fast, tightly wound punk with a sarcastic Republican/Reaganoid stance. If anyone takes either of these “shocking” characters too seriously, they must be “dense-packed.”
Assorted forms of experimentation can be found on this indie tape by the BUCKETS. There’s repetitious guitar figures, quasi-industrial noise, flowing classical fugues, primitive blasts Á la SENSELESS HATE—you name it, it’s on here, except for rocking beats. Op and Another Room should be able to make more sense of it.
I can’t tell what the hell they’re singing about, but it’s probably better that way (judging from their picture on the cover). Musically, it’s pretty good, whether they’re playing punk or thrashers.
Live, the C.J.’s are fast, powerful, and immensely entertaining, but they’ve had difficulties capturing those qualities on their recent vinyl offerings. This new album ranks somewhere between their great debut and its so-so follow-up, Wild in the Streets. Here, the songs range from vintage JERKS—short, tuneful blasts like “In Your Eyes” and “Coup d’Etat”—to boring mid-tempo rockish numbers (like “When the Shit Hits the Fan” and “Rats of Reality”) that seem to be aimed at a crossover hard rock/heavy metal audience. But despite their confused lyrics and lame business practices, these guys always manage to produce some amazingly catchy material.
Yeah! Non-stop killer thrash that burns everything in its path. These boys make good by putting most of their repertoire on one album, including remixes of their 1984 EP. The layers of sound and lyrics get more and more revealing after a few listens, and it includes a beautifully done CRASS-style fold-out sleeve. Don’t miss this one.
This is a live recording of new songs and a few covers. The CRAMPS understand real rock ’n’ roll so well that they write songs that can easily be mistaken for ’60s classics. OK, so the production lacks the usual CRAMPS punch. So what? It sounds great on my lousy stereo. You hopin’ that Jack Douglas will produce ’em? What makes this different from other CRAMPS records is that here you can follow and comprehend Lux Interior’s comic book scenarios with ease. The kind of rebellion the CRAMPS inspire is wanting to be a kid as long as you live. That’s cool.
The first vinyl from western Massachusetts’ DEEP WOUND. Stylistically, their songs follow one of two basic patterns—a stuttering 1000-mph thrash assault with a vague NEOS feel, or a slower, metallish approach (as in “Video Prick”). “Sick of Fun” and “Deep Wound” have strong recognizable choruses, but some of the thrashers kind of get lost in the shuffle during initial listenings.
A five-song tape from this mysterious rampaging tribe. Appearing only occasionally in public, these guys pound out some real primitive, throbbing punk rock, with traces of the HEARTBREAKERS, PISTOLS, ZEROS, and others. In other words, it’s powerful slow-to-medium paced material to dance around the fire to.
The FACTION are a bunch of typical California teenagers who are currently going through their “punk rock” phase. Musically, they have that entertaining skatecore-cum-beach punk sound, which is mainly divided here between crisp mid-tempo numbers with melodic teen vocals (like “Why Save the Whales?” and “Being Watched”), fast thrashed-out songs with a spunky quality (like “Running Amok” and “Fast Food Diet”), and a couple of slow rockers (like “Not Mine”). From a lyrical standpoint, the LP should be entitled No Important Messages.
Surprising. The tuneful ’77 punk on the FRANTIX’ “Face Reality” debut has given way to a grungy garage style here. The title song builds up slowly to a distorted guitar crescendo in the choruses. The other songs are equally raw, but fail to reach the same standards (except maybe “My Dad’s Dead”).
An eminently likable new album. The music here fluctuates between primitive mid-tempo punk (“Jump and Die”, “Fatal Mistake”), faster punk (“Struggle”, “Yelling”), and semi-thrashers (“V.O.A.”, “Copy Bands”). FATAL RAGE has a chunky guitar assault and a knack for writing tunes with a hook you can grab onto. Although the lyrics are a little cryptic and hard to decipher, they seem to be generally OK; one exception is the aforementioned “Copy Bands,” which is just plain dumb. Still, I definitely recommend this record.
An adventure into hyperactive, full-tilt, bulldozing quickness and thundering power. This overwhelming supply of burning rapid-fire speed destroys the mold, exploding into maniac doses of invincible strength and energy. Bolting drums, high-velocity crooning, and hysterically blistering wild guitars (featuring ex-GANG GREEN axeman Chris Doherty). JERRY’S KIDS totally shred the eardrums to mincemeat. For the fast fanatic’s cravings; the essence of what other will try to duplicate.
Twisted stuff that’s mystical, dark, depressing, maybe even fascistic. Like the darker side of FLIPPER, KILSLUG’s noise is slow, falling, and nauseating. They’re undoubtedly worth checking out live, if you want to be set on edge.
The LONG RYDERS are a highly touted neo-’60s band from Southern California. Their debut EP contains a potpourri of ’60s styles, including folk-rock (“Join My Gang”), a rousing guitar-oriented rocker (“10-5-60″), and MASON PROFFIT-type country rock (the rest). They waste too much time on the latter for my taste, but the epic quality of the title song demonstrates that they’re capable of occasional greatness.
By some inexplicable oversight, the (MORTAL) MICRONOTZ’ neat debut album never got reviewed in MRR. That was a big mistake, because it was filled with raw garage spume that deserved to get more attention. In any case, their new 12″ is even better—tighter, more solid, more developed, and just generally bitchin’. All the songs are coherent, the guitars growl, and the vocals have a snotty ’60s aesthetic.
This is one of the worst things I’ve ever heard, and the sheer awfulness of it accounts for whatever value it might have. These two guys take a punch of punk and heavy metal covers and totally trash them. I mean, they are so noisy and unmusical, they make SUBURBAN MUTILATION sound like studio musicians. You decide if that’s a compliment.
OK, but nothing original. The lyrics don’t do too much for me, centering as they do around murder, fighting, vomit, etc., with ambiguous meanings. “Acid Rain” is intelligent, and “Creation” is the standout musically.
Experimental punk from out of the grave. The NUCLEAR CRAYONS’ sound is dense and abrasive; their tempo is slow; their aesthetic is similar to FLIPPER’s; their musical structure is somewhat arty; and their lyrics are rather cryptic (especially in “Political Punk”). All in all, I prefer their more focused cuts on the Mixed Nuts Don’t Crack compilation.
Did some alien spores from Outer Space land near a farm outside this Wisconsin town some twenty-odd years ago, and impregnate the helpless local population? That’s the question I must ask after hearing this tape, which in the S.U.M. tradition combines twisted vocals, psychotic instrumentation, and a raw sound quality into a wonderfully deranged listening experience.
Hard-edged power-pop with definite Mod influences. The vocals are a bit reminiscent of early Jonathan Richman, and the music also has traces of those MODERN LOVERS, along with the early Jolt and Jam. Unfortunately, they try to cover the TROGGS’ “Lost Girl,” which proves to be a disastrous failure, but then nobody is quite like the TROGGS.
More fun and games from these noisesters. Their message emphasizes mankind’s idiocy, and it comes through loud, clear, and inescapably in the lyrics and music. In the best punk tradition, they irritate people, especially punk rockers.
If you thought the SEX PISTOLS’ sound was dead in 1983, you’ve got “a lot to learn,” because this Southern California group is the mirror image of the PISTOLS stylistically. They’ve got the same crunching rhythm attack and wall-of-sound guitar (courtesy of Steve Jones’ production?); on the Rotten one’s vocals are missing. Highly recommended for nostalgia buffs.
Ohio’s OFFBEATS provide eight lunging melodies of eager exhilaration and swiftness. Strong voltage carries a cargo of stimulation and singalong strutters with scorching boom-crazed guitar. Action-packed juices flow wildly with each agile OFFBEAT firebolt. Like the label states, “Smell the fun.”
Norway’s BETONG HYSTERIA takes a base of gruff ’77 punk drive and overlays it with pulsating quasi-psychedelic guitar playing. The effect is both very appealing and somewhat unique, so look for this one.
Another hot debut from New York with lots of fast, raw thrashers that compare to the best of MDC and CAUSE FOR ALARM. The songs are unpredictable, but the lyrics to “Foreign Job-Lot” are suspect, to say the least.
Good production and fascinating song structures distinguish this new release by ARKANSAW MAN. Post-punk influences are softened by lively tempos and the addition of a brass section, and there’s certainly more than enough originality on this record to make it a solid contender.
This is the obligatory slag review. Basically, this new BAD RELIGION album totally sucks, unless you like slickly produced early ’70s wimp rock. After playing it, I hurled it out the window, into the unknown.
A surprising follow-up to their great garage thrash debut. Here, these New York boys rap it up with lots of effects and a certain ethnic flavor, and also include a dub version. Punk should meet rap more often, but it may not be for everybody.
BETTER LIVING’s vocals verge on the psychotic, and they’re enhanced by frantic, spastic instrumental outbreaks. I’ve got to say that this stuff is absolutely berserk and wonderful!
A bunch of 13- and 14-year-olds, bored with the beauty of the Monterey peninsula, crank out some primitive, amateurish thrash. The production on this homemade tape is so bad that it’s hard to decipher the songs, but there’s plenty of compensatory youthful spunk. For fans of recording in a breadbox.
Another Philly area band that provides evidence that a lot is going on in the City of Brotherly Hate. They offer somewhat unoriginal thrash, but perform it well for a young band. The music here isn’t nearly as goofy as their picture in MRR #8.
There’s some genuine sickness here, kids. Some of it’s slow, some fast, some jazzy, some thrashy, but all of it combines BEEFHEART-type weirdness (with slide guitar, even) and twisted punk humor to produce classics like “The Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey’s Grave.”
CAPITOL PUNISHMENT finally raised enough money to put out an EP, and it’s well worth the wait. Musically, there’s three strong thrashers and one slow, measured mood piece (“Jody Is My Bloody Love”), all distinguished by Ralph’s amazingly raspy singing; the lyrics alternate between personal introspection (“Wrong Direction”) and the kind of straightforward political critiques that invariably drive the apolitical wimps into a frenzy. Hooray!
Blistering thrash with positive, idealistic lyrics. This is one of the best new bands I’ve heard since DRI. CAUSE FOR ALARM have the type of intense, committed attack that leaps out of the speakers and slaps you in the face to get your attention; then they get you thinking. You can’t expect any more from a punk band, so don’t ignore this EP.
Totally crude and psychotic garage stuff here. They’ve got amazingly primitive drumming, raw guitars, and lots of super-short outbursts of madness called songs. A delight for NEOS and early HALF JAPANESE fanatics.
Spunky teenage hardcore from Connecticut. CHRONIC DISORDER blast out fast semi-thrash punk which is infused with a garage aesthetic, youthful Rotten-esque vocals, and common sense. A real appealing limited edition debut.
