issue #02 pdf - Razorcake

“Black Monk Time” kills, but the
pleasing surprise was that the versions
of the songs are actually significantly
different than the originally
released versions, ‘cause often when
you actually hear the “demos that
were supposedly better than the
album,” they just sound like lowerfi,
unfinished weaker versions. Not
the case here: this album actually
presents an earlier, alternate version
of the Monks, effectively an unreleased
first chapter to “Black Monk
Time,” which tells their musical
journey from the middle (the original
BMT album) to the end (the
compromised, half-Monkmusik/
half-pop post-LP singles). Here you
have the beginning in the Five
Torquays’ pre-Monks single and the
demos that comprise the bulk of the
album, recorded (as most demos are)
in an attempt to get a contract. I suppose
the reunion live album which I
have yet to purchase is the postscript,
to stretch this tortured analogy
to the limit. I’m pleased this disc
won’t just be a collectors’ curiosity
on the shelf for research and completism
purposes, but is as likely to
get stuck in the player as the “properly-released”
album. And oh yeah,
I paid for this album too, which
proves I’m not just a spoiled music
critic, right? No, it does nothing of
the kind, and it’s patently obvious
that musically I’m as spoiled as they
come without actually making any
money. Anyway, you should buy
this album too. -Aaron J. Poehler
(Omplatten)
MY SO-CALLED BAND
“The Punk Girl Next Door” CD
My So-Called Band have come a
long way, baby, since the nefariously
negative review I belligerently
bestowed upon them in the
March/April 1998 issue of Flipside.
Three years and a blazin’ bucketful
of audial attitude has made all the
difference in the world: the sound is
thicker, chunkier, meaner, meatier,
and more raucously combustive (oh
what the hell, I’ll even delve into the
record reviewer’s musty old bag of
over-used cliches and go so far as to
say that this amped-out effort is
fuller, richer, and more cacophonously
cohesive than their first!). It’s
as if Cheap Trick were bein’ mercilessly
trampled to death by the New
York Dolls, Nirvana, The Toadies,
and Saint Vitus or SWA (or one of
them there other guitar-grinding
bands from SST’s “Blasting
Concept, Volume II” album), but
with lighter, breathier vocalizations...
yep, pure punky power-rock
pummelings of pleasurable noisemakin’
merriment! The guitar strafings
are crunchy and frenetically
cutting with a spine-snappin’ sense
of unstoppable urgency; the bass
furiously rumbles like a napalmladen
supersonic jet whooshin’
through the fiery skies of an impending
apocalypse; the drums spastical-
ly stomp along like a rugby match
between two opposing teams of
viciously enraged dinosaurs; the
vocals are high-spirited, feverpitched,
and jovially snotty. Man,
I’m so gloriously damn glad that we
receptively open-minded critics possess
such tolerant all-encompassing
ears that seem to never hold a
grudge... otherwise, I might not have
given My So-Called Band a second
chance. This is too much of an aurally
enticing jewel to routinely ignore,
so I give it two thumbs up, a fullfledged
erection shootin’ straight to
the moon, and a rowdy round of
roguish Rog recommendations! -
Roger Moser, Jr. (Yesha)
MZ. PAKMAN
“Oh Shit” CD
Minimalist rock’n’roll, sorta like a
poor man’s Donnas. I got bored pretty
quick. -Jimmy Alvarado
(Slutfish)
NATIONAL ACROBAT, A
“Can’t Stop Casper Adams” CD EP
More dissonant noise rock from
these guys, who still sound like a
death rock-less Mighty Sphincter.
When you think it’s all over, they
offer up a bonus track with all the
previous songs played backwards.
They ain’t fast, but they is pretty
danged heavy. -Jimmy Alvarado
(Status)
NIBLICK HENBANE
“Go Away” CD
If I can say one thing about this CD,
I’d definitely have to say that their
cover of Blondie’s “Dreamin’” is
cool. I wish more bands like these
guys would sing more songs like
that. It put a smile on my face. -Pete
Hucklebuck (TKO)
NICK CAVE
AND THE BAD SEEDS
“No More Shall We Part” CD
I need to go buy some more Clairol
black dye in the green box with the
Asian lady on it because it’s the
cheapest, and the color gives my
face that great ashen look. I’m thinking
maybe some blue streaks this
time, red perhaps but I’ve done it so
many times. Oh I know! Blue and
red makes purple, then purple
streaks it is! So, I scored this great
velvet pant suit I’m going to sport at
the Nick Cave show. He’s not playing
with the Bad Seeds yet. He’s just
trying out the new material. Yeah
he’s coming to town and I’m sooo
excited. We will be reunited again,
me and my mister. Oh Nick, if only
you would look into my eyes while
standing in front of 12,000 glazed
and passionate eyes. Then you will
know that we were meant to be. Your
songs speak only to me, in a deep
secret place in my heart that no one
will ever touch, especially that stupid
MC5-loving guy who works at
the record store who rolls his eyes
every time I come in for my special
shipment of your Australian import
flexi-disc of a B-side not available in
the States. I’m gonna wear a tie and
smoke cigarettes and wear tons of
black eyeliner just like him. Oh, I
think I’ll run off into my room and
write some more poetry while sipping
some hot tea and feeling very
glamorous about angst. Sigh! No
mother, I won’t turn down the
stereo! - Is this you or do you know
someone like this? You need to get
this person some help. I should
know, I’m one of them. Why are
people fanatical about Nick Cave?
Well, I won’t go as far as saying he’s
the greatest because he’s not, but he
does possess what’s missing in most
artists of his caliber; it’s that soul of
the soulless quality which brings one
to self validate deep depression as an
overflowing artesian source of inspiration.
He’s a haunting reminder that
art school is never out of style for
some people. Unfortunately
“Deanna” has long passed. “Straight
to You” is a memory of a love affair
that once was. “The Mercy Seat” is
now being occupied by a film school
freshman trying to become the next
Fasbinder, Wender or Jarmusch.
Nobody goes “Where the Wild
Roses Grow.” So Mr. Cave now sits
quietly under an antique stained
glass ceiling in front of a piano with
a glowing cigarette pluming a ghostly
veil in the middle the dark stage.
He tries to sing with a voice that took
him all these years to muster up.
They are love songs for the love
lorn, of course, but his maturity
shines through. The lyrical content
of “No More Shall We Part” has less
of the absurd thrill kill death scenarios
he’s so famous for painting and
more reasonable woes like relationships.
Mr. Cave finally grows into
that suit and tie image and places
himself and his music along the level
of Leonard Cohen and Serge
Gainsbourg. I’m coining a new
music genre “Diet Death” or “Death
Lite.” Enjoy. -Namella J. Kim
NIKKI SUDDEN
“The Last Bandit” 2X CD
So Nikki’s finally gotten to the point
in his career where a “best-of,” or
more appropriately, “an introduction
to”-type compilation is de rigeur, a
necessity concentrating some peaks
down into one convenient package
for those too cheap and lazy to go
out and buy every rare single and
import CD they can find, like, well,
me. I’ve always enjoyed whatever
of Nikki’s work has floated my way,
from the first time I heard his version
of Neil Young’s “Captain Kennedy”
on the Bridge tribute album (one of
the only tribute albums that rewarded
more than one listen), to his more
recent album with the Jacobites
that’s spent a good amount of time in
the player - oh fine, I’ll get up and
find out the title... it’s “God Save Us
Poor Sinners.” Happy now? Bomp
also sent along a comp of Nikki’s
first band, Swell Maps, which I
haven’t had time to really get into
yet, to be honest, seeing as it’s not up
the same Keith Richards meets Alex
Chilton alley as Nikki’s solo work,
but it sounded okay - intriguing
indie-noise from the early eighties,
which is always an area worthy of
investigation for me. Regardless of
the Swell Maps disc, Nikki’s “The
Last Bandit” comp’s pretty damn
solid until the end, where it sort of
peters out a bit - I assume these
tracks are included due to their rarity
and not their overarching quality -
but the bonus solo acoustic disc
makes up for it with seven sparse but
haunting cuts. But what the kids
really want to know, Nikki... is
where the hell did you find that
priceless gold-lame (imagine a little
accent mark over the “e”) suit you’re
wearing on the cover? That’s picture’s
fucking worth the cost of the
album right there. I totally want that
suit. -Aaron J. Poehler (Alive/Total
Energy)
NIKKI SUDDEN
“The Last Bandit ” 2X CD
Nikki Sudden is the unspoken top
contender in an ear-comforting class
of musical majesty that’s equal parts
tavern rock’n’roll, ‘60s-style jukebox
pop, mid-’80s jangle-rock, and
rootsy rural downhome charm.
Although his shimmering aural
effervescence is incomparable in its
sheer shining brilliance, his audial
artistry can be rightfully compared
to the American heartland exuberance
of Tom Petty, the pained hollow-hearted
honesty of “Walls and
Bridges”-era John Lennon, and the
frenzied Crazy Horse folksiness of
Neil Young (if ol’ Neil were more of
a brew-drenched Sunset Strip sceneshaker
and less of a whiney tofumunchin’
hippy). At times, a
swirling maelstrom of guitar-saturated
psychedelia frenetically lurches
forth and inspires my senses to spin
around and around and then loopityloop
right back again. And I do
declare, the upbeat urban vibe of
“Countess” sounds uncannily like a
long-lost outtake from The Rolling
Stones’ “Some Girls” sessions (but
then “Captain Kennedy” is the sonic
siamese-twin equivalent of Paul
McCartney’s “Let Me Roll It”, and
“Behind The Lines” is raucously
reminiscent of Marc Bolan (T. Rex)
in all of his baddest boogie-boy
bravado). And Disc 2 is an acoustic
resurrection of Johnny Thunders
brashly payin’ semi-reverential
homage to a younger more rebellious
Bobby Dylan. Wow, Mr.
Sudden is certainly skilled at crafting
well-structured musical magnificence
and then polishing it to
sparkling perfection. Like my
favorite frothy fermented beverage,
this delectable disc is good to the last
drop! -Roger Moser, Jr. (Alive/Total
Energy)
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