A Clusterfuck of Bands - A Fistful Of Rock N Roll Vol 13, Part 2 & 3
My band/house budstar Kurt Dirt mentioned the other day about being disillusioned with punk. Fair enough (or maybe he'd heard me blasting The Dangerous Aces album next door too often) but it transpires it put a spark in my itinerant subconscious p'raps to test that theory, especially as it coincided with me digging out rekkids from bygone days & danger ways in a long delayed spurt of hypermanic activity. I discovered this beast grimacing at me from the 'to do' piles that Steel Cage sent me ages ago (apologies, guys) and did stick it in my ailing stereotonic system, initially with the intention of giving it a desultory spin before shovelling it on a passing shelf in a great quest for tidiness through sobriety, but the grin as the grit ground out the speakers meant that anyhoop hop pop it's been on pretty much constantly the last few days, for it surely is a treat of sonic splutterings to make putrid soup of the secret service disinformation campaign that sees Dead Weather, The Black Keys & numberless nameless pop-punk whimperers keeping the sleeveless Knievel, evil colonel & whiskey wimmins stuff like this in the trenches. But it's always thus, huh? With an all seeing eye searching out the incandescent from the seething swamps of trashtowns for your glistening pleasure, there's almost no trace of any misfirings, blanks or non-starters & a voracious amount of rippling energy & drooling, drawling door splintering raw power & Runaway Radio Birdman influenced rawk is here just about ready to explode in your face - much of which seems to be shared between the charred larynxes of Aussie The Dead Set, Dutch devils on toxic detours Peter Pan Speedrock and New Yorkers The Compulsions - while waiting for you to plug in then turn on ya baby. Alongside notables of the calibre of Japan's sake-crazed Thee Michelle Gun Elephant* (Smokin Billy which their accents render cutely as 'Biwwrweee'), The Makers with Too Many Fuckers On The Street (from ROCK STAR GOD, one of the greatest slabs of rock muscles flexing ever), Therapy? (the list of demands from an alien landing on Rock You Monkeys), PPSR** and Danko Jones there's arcane classics from Midnight Rapture, The Kamikazes, (whose respective turns Deliver Me & Time For Rock N Roll are two stand-outs you should volunteer to have secreted indiscreetly 'pon your soul) Firestone (awe-slaking disembowelling stoner sludge with ultra-slut stripping bass), the jump-for-joy Joan Jett Joan Jett on a Lydia Lunch flinging pants-blaster of Patti Rhodes & The Mystery Kids, The Coma-Tones slack-jawed sleaze, Lofreq's evil 'DC, and hellbilly stoner skronk of Chapstick, recalling the glories of Cretin 66. High voltage, Hi-watt, High octane & so on all day & all night this'll really get ya good & gone. CD1 outwieghs its pardner, though punching through the ceiling comes the Amps 11 Eleven's broiling in a bullpen cowboy ruck of Sabbath's Hole In The Sky & Overkill & the ever mighty-monikered Crank County Daredevils and Secret Squirrel Society. All in all it's still a resolutely star-toasting Sunday slut service.
*Thee Michelle Gun Elephant
**Peter Pan Speedrock