If you're reading this, that means it is now 2025, which means I'm in the eleventh year away from my homeland of Baltimore, and six years into the revival of this here bloggin' concern. It's a pretty nice feeling, yet bittersweet. We've made it another year, a bit farther away from then and much closer to tomorrow.
I don't know why I don't recall Decatur Blue; it's the exact kind of place I would have been stoked to visit in DC, during a period in my life when I would have been most able to do so. This 2003 comp commemorates that period, courtesy of Planaria Recordings. Don't let the minimal artwork below fool ya. This was home to a lot of DC's cutting edge visual art and music, ranging from the noise rock of Early Humans to the one-two no wave punk of Black Eyes and Measles Mumps Rubella to Canyon's winsome Neil Young-goes-emo alt-country. These are the folks that played the Talking Head, CCAS, the Ottobar, the Sidebar; some spots long gone, others still kicking against the pricks. It was a good time for DC independent music and art, and this, a fine document.
And if you came here thinking this was a collection of late 70s/early 80s Peter Holsapple/Chris Stamey tracks, well, sorry to disappoint cha.
I'm not sure how I didn't own a copy of this until I came across one for a penny in an online auction. I was on board with 1-2-3-4 Go! from the jump, picking up copies of the Splitting Teeth 7" and the "Power Of Ten" comp when they came out. I booked a show for House On Fire when they stopped off in Baltimore during their first our, and Foundation came up from Richmond often enough that I've seen them half a dozen times. "Experiments" has a loaded lineup, headlined by Against Me!, NOFX, Jesse Michaels, and the Lawrence Arms.
Longtime readers will note a recurring theme here, wherein I correctly identify myself as an idiot. There are so many things I slept on b/c I was too punk, or too young, or too broke to dive headfirst into. It's nice that with age has come self-awareness, and a healthy sense of humor about my youthful obstinacy. it's also quite possible (likely?) that the record store I worked at in 2003 just passed this over, on account of a focus on noise rock and metal in the buying regimen.
At any rate, it's never too late to listen. This was worth waiting for.
I have no clue how I got hold of this. I've never been much of a crust collector, and Auch is such a tiny commune in southwestern France. It'd be like someone not only pulled together a comp of ska bands from Mount Vernon, WA. And yet...
This is the second of three "Voices" compilations springing from the Gers Valley, a rural area known as the largest producer of foie gras in France. Is that the reason Auch was able to turn out Auchardcore? What sounds small-town kids create in their local bubbles will never not be interesting to me, even if it's taking place in a language foreign to me.
A note: this is missing the last track on the comp, Death Buring's "The Gates of Kthulu". Despite it appearing on both the track listing and the Discogs page, my copy, factory pressed and otherwise pristine, was missing this cut. A shame; I'll always geek out to a Lovecraftian crust jam.
They can't all be winners, people, but as far as tribute records to the Clash go, I respect this one, because it leans into "Sandinista"-era Clash moreso than other Clash tributes, and there are some rather-unknown artists here (for me, at least), plus an unreleased Mescaleros track and a contemporary Stiff Little Fingers songs about Mssr. Strummer, and, anyway, this run on sentence has run on. Shit, it came free with a copy of Uncut...what more do you want out of life?
There's a Volume Two, as well, with some more familiar artists on it, and maybe I'll buy a copy one day and write a hundred words about that one also.
There's an eBay seller who I've been picking up CDs from for the past several months. I keep going back because every single item starts at a penny. And by (moatly) sticking to a max of $2 per item, I end up not spending more than $4 total on any one record. And, let's face it, I'll try anything for less than a fiver.
That's how I ended up with this, a British release from 2003 from the now-venerable London label No Front Teeth Records. I just grabbed it because I liked the cover and I could barely decipher the words "skate punk" on the tiny .jpg shot for the cover. And I couldn't find anything about it online, so I put in a bid for a buck. A day later, I had won this one; a week later, it wsa in my hands.
This ended up being a pretty great purchase. When you put together a few classic JFA tracks, a pair from Clevo HC outfit H-100's, and a trio from the deeply underrated River City Rebels, you have the makings of a delicious comp stew going. Throw in a bunch of British skate punk bands, as well as an obligatory Duane Peters appearance, and this is a sampler that probably should have gotten a lot more notice 21 years ago.
Boy oh boy, do I miss Buddyhead. I miss the scuzziness, the grime, the medium drugs and the late nights. I miss gossiping about your friends in bands and pissing off the Gen X'ers that came before. I miss that period before some folks got into heroin, some folks got into religion, some folks got into the suburbs. They were massive nights and low key days, fueled by Satan, Grey Goose, Sparks, and Gatorade, disco fries and Adderall.
Just a killer 20-year-old compilation of Bay Area hardcore/crust/power violence/grindcore. Simple as.
Listening to this for the first time in a long time, it makes me wish someone would put out a Funeral Shock discography. And I see that the Scurvy Dogs full length is a whopping $3 on CD.
It's a good one to walk your dog to...preferably on a rope leash.
I stopped by the local Half Price Books over the weekend, my favorite ex-employer, on the hunt for some Criterion laserdiscs and other fun at (you guessed it) half price. Any day that ends with a double disc of "Glen and Glenda" and "Bride of the Monster", a copy of Samuel Fuller's "The Naked Kiss", and a few other classics on 30mm aluminum is a good day. However, I took a quick peek into the music book section and found a copy of "Young Gifted And Black: The Story Of Trojan Records", a 2003 book put out by Trojan owner (at the time) Sanctuary Publishing. While I wasn't necessarily feeling spending the money, I'd never seen a copy on the shelves before, and it came with the compilation I share now. Who am I to deny a sign from the reggae gods?
By now, it should be quite clear that I'm into reggae. I'm not into some Ras Trent/cultural appropriation/I like to get wicked stoned white boy reggae scene. I'm into the deepest south soul, six hours of Lee Perry dubs, a chanting down of Babylon and a celebration of skinheads. My first ever Trojan purchase was a two-fer: Symarip's "Skinhead Moonstomp" and the classic "Monkey Business" comp. It was the introduction to another bit of obsession, searching out not just more reissues and compilations, but always keeping an eye out for dub plates and white labels and the records I'd mostly just read about or heard on the random radio show.
I've yet to start reading the book, but this was am immediate "load it onto the phone" record. At 33 minutes long, it's almost just a sampler; barely scratching the surface of initial seven year heyday. But, fuck, if this doesn't pique your curiosity, get you dancing or crate digging, then I guess you're in the wrong place, baby.
I had nice things to say a couple years back about Osaka's Razors Edge, and I figured it was high time to revisit their discography with this, their second full length. Originally released in 2003 on Kenji Razors' Pizza Of Death Records, this is just some good ass turn of the millenium JP thrash. It's a bit more amateur (and thus a bit more fun, IMHO) than SONIC! FAST! LIFE!, and it covers a lot of the same ground. But the songwriting is there, and the Ramones built a wonderful catalog off the same sort of model, so there you go.
Dig those subtitles. MORE SOUL FOR THRASH!! WE ARE JUST BLITZKRIEG!! Can there be any doubt as to what you're getting here?
For those of you either already on the ground in Japan, or of the means to make your way there, Razors Edge is playing in Osaka in July with a gaggle of other bands. Should be a thrashin' good time. Flip that ballcap bill up and wall of death to your hearts' content!
Did we ever call it "screamo" when it first happened? Maybe in the context of bands we didn't like, or obvious poses. Otherwise, the likes of Jeromes Dream and Orchid were just punk bands wilding out, slotted nicely on a four band bill with a straight edge hardcore band, an indie pop band, and a power violence band. "Emo" was for bands on Drive Thru and Vagrant, a marketing term, an easy opening to stick a peg in. This was just punk on the edges of convention.
Level Plane in Philadelphia and the Electric Human Project in Wilmington were two of the many homes for bands making this kind of music. EHP had put out records with Pageninetynine and Joshua Fit For Battle, would drag their distro down to Baltimore for shows. Level Plane had a deeper catalog, but had worked with a number of the same bands as EHP, plus folks like Envy, You And I, and City of Caterpillar. Everybody knew each other, went to the same shows, toured the same circuits. Again, it was just kids making DIY music.
We knew and booked Transistor Transistor because it was Brad from Orchid's new band. The pedigree was good enough for us when they started coming down from New Hampshire. As for Light The Fuse And Run, they were only a few hours down the road in Richmond. They'd already played with Hot Cross in town and were pretty good. Why not do a show for both?
What's lost to my memory now is whether the record was promoting the tour, or if the tour led to the record. All I know is that I found a copy on CD for a buck a few days before Christmas, which unleashed the swell of memories above, like the heat rolling into your face as you walk inside from a wintry yard.
I mentioned it a ways back about that time Baroness jumped on a show I booked at the second Talking Head, how they only got a few songs played in the course of an hour on account of failing gear. But they ripped those few songs, and I got their demo for my trouble, and then about three years ago I sold said demo for something like $50, and, phew, is this sentence going on long.
This two song demo was recorded a few months before Baroness recorded "First". They cut early versions of "Tower Falls" and "Coeur" with Pavement drummer Steve West (?!?) in his Marble Valley Studios (I'm guessing in Charlottsville?), and dropped them onto a CD-R with the delightful artwork you see below. Only John Dyer Baizley remains from that initial Baroness lineup, and the band records now under their own Abraxan Hymns imprint, distributed by Warner Music Group.
I remember being really stressed out by them playing, but digging it because it was heavy, and then not really being curious about seeking out their music again. Very off brand for me. But I guess Mastodon and High on Fire filled that niche in my earbrain at the time, and now I'm thinking maybe it's time to give it another go.
I didn't grow up in DC, per se, but what happened there musically in the 80s and 90s had an outsized influence on my taste. And like any good lil record nerd, I chased every band mentioned in an interview with Ian MacKaye or on a Jawbox flier. As a result, I have a metric fuckton of really obscure, but great, CDs in my collection that go for $5-$15 a piece on Discogs, due to lake of knowledge.
The Empire LP, "Expensive Sound", is one of those rarities, a record notable for its members' lineage and the influence it had on a few key players in the DC hardcore scene. Those members were Mark Laff and Bob Derwood Andrews, late of Generation X before that outfit turned outright into the Billy Idol show. Andrews and Laff both found themselves at odds with Idol's and bassist Tony James' goals to embrace a more mainstream sound and look for the band, and started Empire in London with Simon Bernal from experimental collective MLR.
What they turned out was a post-punk record that one could argue is proto-emo in sound. When I listen to this, I hear exactly where the fellas in Embrace were coming from musically when they made their self-titled record in 1986. That continues throughout the Dischord catalog into the 90s, with bands like Ignition, Soul Side, and 3 wearing the influence on their musical sleeves.
What I'm sharing here comes from the 2003 reissue of "Expensive Sound", expanded with seven unreleased tracks and a quartet of live cuts from 1981. Released by Northern Virginia's Poorly Packaged Products, it was followed up in 2006 with another CD of previously unissued Empire recordings; I've never seen a copy of that one in the wild. The folks at Drastic Plastic in Omaha also put out a really nice vinyl reissue a few years back that is 100% worth snagging at $15.
Ah, Gearhead Records. Along with Carbon 14 and Estrus Records, they were the leading light of the greaser punk scene that screeched into prominence in the last part of the 20th century. They were led by a Pittsburgh expat in S.F. named Mike Lavella, who'd played bass in Half Life, then headed west on a cross-country roadtrip combining three chords and a 442 engine, along with his partner Michelle Haunold. The duo had taste in spades, programming the annual Gearfest festival and carshow and publishing Gearhead Magazine. They gave the Hellacopters and New Bomb Turks a home base, and championed the likes of "Demons" and the Riverboat Gamblers. I remember Mike being the first to really talk about the Hives, and how they could become the biggest rock 'n' roll band ever (it almost happened).
2003's "The Gearhead Records ThingMaker", their second label sampler, stands as the high-water mark for the Bay Area label. The Turks were wrapping up their hallowed career that year. The Hives were wrapping up work on their first major label record. "Demons" were going on hiatus, and the Hellacopters had embraced their inner stoner. Bands like Million Dollar Marxists (featuring a young Steve Adamyk) and Turbo A.C.'s were queued for records, but didn't capture the imagination or interest of fans the way their predecessors did. Hell, maybe we were all just so stoked that the Stooges were back together that we didn't have the bandwidth to pay attention to up and comers.
Anyhow...I won't say every song here is a hit, but it sure is listenable, whether you're wrenching on your car, vacuuming the house, or writing a few hundred word long blog post. Most of these were previously released on a Gearhead record; the last four cuts feature unreleased tracks from the Turks, Turbo A.C.'s, American Heartbreak, and the cleverly-named Rock 'N' Roll Soldiers. There's not a dud in the bunch. It's well worth your $3 plus shipping.
How the Christ could it have taken so long for the world to get on board with the Testors?
I've listened to the 2003 Swami release of "Complete Recordings 1976-1979" so much over the past 17 years, and I don't get it. I don't get how someone, anyone, couldn't have heard the demo from 1979, heard them live, and thought, "Yeah, I could sell this to Alice Cooper fans." Or Thin Lizzy fans. Or KISS fans. I just don't get it.
Now, I love the Dead Boys and Ramones and Dictators and Cramps and all the various bands that made up that early New York City scene. But I keep coming back to these recordings. It's not that the others are overplayed to me; it's just the mystery of a band this good, this tight, only getting one self-released record out during their life span. I could see it for any number of bands that weren't from a big rock town. Yet the Testors arguably played in the big rock town during their lifespan, and the classic "Together b/w Time Is Mine" single was all that came out until Incognito released a pair of 10"s in 1995.
I've purposely downgraded the bitrate on this to 128kbps as encouragement to buy this from Sonny's Bandcamp page. Hell, feel free to wait until Friday, when all the $$$ goes directly to him. If I hadn't owned this for so long, I'd almost certainly drop the $14 to snag this.
I was later than I should have been, falling in love with the Murder City Devils. I had written them off initially as hipster rockabilly wannabes, based solely on a picture I saw of Spencer Moody in some fanzine. Nothing about music, mind you. I'd just get hip deep into these weird ass takes throughout my early 20s where I'd lean real hard into hating on something, no matter the evidence to the contrary. I mean, if you're going to have shitty, baseless opinions, your 20s are probably the best time to get them out of the way. So I missed every MCD show that came through Baltimore during their run. Ol' Schmucky Magoo over here didn't get hip until I heard "Press Gang" on a Sub Pop sampler that came thru word in an ADA promo box. And BOY did I feel dumb!
I wasn't going to repeat my mistake when I heard of Dead Low Tide, the band comprised of three ex-Devils and Mike from godheadSilo. They'd self-released a 7" in 2002 that I'd picked up and played to death. When they finally made it East, we had heard they were soon to record their first LP, to be released on NYC's Tiger Style Records. Tiger Style was a label I was already paying attention to; they'd put out the second Convocation Of LP, and had put out some killer Rye Coalition records. They had proven they possessed good taste. Between that, the pedigree, and the 7", I figured I'd be due a good time when I saw them.
All I recall of the night is whiskey, and copious amounts of it. So it's fair I don't remember much more than:
1) I saw them at the Ottobar.
2) I remember Gabe, their roadie of some renown, capering about throughout their set and drinking
Description
Jägermeister with me at some point.
3) I woke the following day at 1pm, having missed a film class and wearing a series of mysterious cuts/scratches on my face and down my body to my knees.
I couldn't tell you who else they played with, how they sounded, who I attended with, or how I traveled the two blocks from the show to my 3rd floor apartment. Did I have a good time? Apparently.
As it turns out, Dead Low Tide were not long for this world. They went home to Seattle, recorded this here slab, and promptly broke up. The end. How anticlimatic.
The Party of Helicopters (photo by Shawn Brackbill)
Ah, the days of white belts and cocaine compacts.
I was so on the fence with sassy hardcore/emo back in the early aughts. On one hand, I can almost always get on board with evolving old styles, especially when drawing inspiration from dance music and free jazz and no wave. On the other, godDAMN were some of the kids drawn to this scene a bunch of pose hounds. It was super druggy, very fashion driven; both things I wasn't very into.
I'm pretty certain I saw the Party of Helicopters once...maybe twice. Almost definitely at the student union at Goucher, possibly at the Sushi Cafe. Their contemporaries were a "who's that?" of the late 90s indie side of punk rock: bands like the 1985, Harriet the Spy, Racebannon, Three Studies for a Crucification. The finest bands from western Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana. Too weird for Polyvinyl / too straight forward for Lengua Armada. Perfectly suited for a fest like MacRock. Just a bunch of dorks dorking it up with dorky music for dorky kids.
All of it adds up to a weird-ass mix for this, their final record. It came out on CD via Atlanta's Velocette Records, home to a Vic Chesnutt record, a couple of Jucifer releases, and not much else. Bifocal Media did the vinyl; they were a much more fitting (and long-lasting) home for a band like this that had a foot in so many worlds. There is, however, something about the way the vocals and music blend to make this stand out for me. Which is why I guess I'm sharing it. That, and I'm certain I paid a buck for it a couple years back. So, you know, it fits with the theme, I suppose.
Here's a story about the first time I met Ted Leo. It's the spring of 1995. A friend from my drama class invites me to join him and a couple other classmates to skip school on a Monday and trek from HarCo down to DC to see the Cranberries play a free show at the Sylvan Theater, down by the Washington Monument. The 'Berries were mid-tour in support of "No Need to Argue", and while I wasn't a big fan, that record was ubiquitous. And it was a perfect day in DC: sunny, not too hot, just really nice. We had arrived in time for an opener none of us had ever heard of, a local band called Chisel. They were just great, to the point where I remember asking aloud, "Why doesn't 'HFS play these guys?" They were punk in the same way Jawbox or Shudder to Think were punk, yet tuneful, with enough pop flavor to cross over easily.
They wrap up their set, and, by this point, it's a pretty big crowd. No one watching the show knew it at the time, but there were about three times as many people in attendance than had been expected. The Cranberries take forever to come out, and when they finally do, they play "Linger". I've seen more restrained pits during Cro-Mags show. People were flying off the stage. It was wholly inappropriate for the show and I was probably one of a handful of people reveling in it. Dolores O'Riordan sat her acoustic guitar on a stand behind her, and the 'Berries began their second song. I remember noticing half a dozen mounted police had appeared on either side the stage...then the song cut out. The Park Police had ended the show, and, suddenly, we're all in a riot. Our brave quartet was a Mekons song come to life. We darted between a pair of horses to stage right, watched as a drunk college guy took a swing at a cop, and beat feet to Union Station.
We're earlier than we expected to be, so we have no clue which train to take towards home, or when said train will leave. We're trying to interpret the big schedule; after all, we're four high school kids from the northern suburbs of Baltimore. What do WE know about the Metro system? I turn to my left, and who do I see, but the band we'd just seen, pre-riot. One of the women in our group whispered, "Oh my god, are those the guys from that band?" They hear us talking about them, turn and look. I wave and say, "Hey. You guys were great today." And we all start talking. I had no idea that they hadn't released an LP yet, just a few singles to that point. Or that they were barely a few years older than us, fresh out of Notre Dame. Here were some fellas just an hour after opening for the biggest band on the planet (at that moment). They actually wanted to talk to us. It was an amazing feeling.
I told Ted that story a number of years later before a show at the Ottobar, thinking he'd have no clue what I was babbling about. Instead, he recalled parts of the day I hadn't been familiar with; that Chisel was at Union Station because they'd gotten the gig last minute and hadn't driven their van, that the Cranberries had been pissed off because Chisel had to share a backline, that they'd had a giggle after we left because they couldn't understand why we were treating them like rock stars. We clinked glasses of Jameson and toasted each other for surviving the great WHFS Riot of 1995.
I was already a fan of Ted Leo and the Pharmacists before that night, but that encounter really sealed my love for the man and his music. It bums me out that they had such shitty luck with labels: Lookout going out of business, Touch & Go almost completely ending release of new records, Matador just abandoning support of the band. That 10 year run, between "The Tyranny of Distance" and "The Brutalist Bricks", remains one of my favorite series of records from a single band. I feel like they were a contender for the best indie rock band around during that time, as well as one of the last links to the indie scenes of the 80s and 90s.
"Tell Balgeary, Balgury Is Dead" came out in 2003, between the TL/Rx's third and fourth albums. It was both a throwback to their early dub recordings, as well as the record that best reflects Ted's Irish Catholic heritage. There are a trio of covers, interpreting The Jam, Split Enz, and Ewan McColl. Dan Littleton (the Hated, Ida) makes an appearance on "Bleeding Powers", as well as handles producer duties on much of the record. I'll even argue that the title track might be the weakest part of the release. It all reminds me of the Joe Strummer solo records, or something you'd hear played from the corner of an Irish pub in an East Coast city.
The "Sharkbite Sessions" was recorded and released 2 years later, and shares two songs in common with "Balgeary". But this is a tighter, more raucous affair. The trio of Leo/Lerner/Wilson had been playing out live for three years at that point, and it shows up in this recording. I bought this mainly because TL/Rx covered "Suspect Device" by Stiff Little Fingers, but I think it serves as the flipside of the coin from "Balgeary". At any rate, I have no clue if these are streamable, but I think they're hella great summer records. So plunk 'em on a tape and drive around, enjoying the fresh air at least six feet away from everyone.
If there's a recurring theme to this blog, it's "I took way to long to get into this band/movie". As someone who was a Baltimore resident during most of their heyday, there's no excuse, other than the dipshittery of youth, for me not having gotten into Lungfish sooner.
There's really no excuse: I was already a fan of what Dischord was putting out, and I got a promo of "Sound In Time" for my radio show when it came out in 1996. They opened for Fugazi at the Steelworker's Hall out by Dundalk in 1998, but I stood outside during most of their set, smoking and being tres punk. I'd seen Pat Graham's photography of the band for years, and despite the amazing visual story those images told, it took until their 10th record, "Love Is Love", for something to click for me. By the time they'd gone on hiatus, I'd only seen them that one time, and not even really watched then.
Which is a shame, because what I didn't get in my twenties has become an obsession as I've aged. In one sense, I get it: I had no context under which I could appreciate their post-, post-hardcore experiments. I genuinely tried to rectify that mistake by diving into their entire catalog. My preference is for later-period Lungfish; I love taking a long drive to "A.C.R. 1999" and companion release "Necrophones". There's a tactile nature to the music; the lyrics, delivered like a revival preacher. I feel something very primal when I listen to Lungfish. It stirs me as much as any Coltrane record, any Morricone film score.
I originally downloaded this 2003 set from the team at [shiny grey monotone], which should be on your blogroll if it isn't already. Since the link has expired, I think it's pretty fair (with appropriate credit) to repost it here. This dates from their tour immediately following the release of "Love Is Love", and I think is a pretty decent representation of their work, and gives just enough sense of their live show to make you wish they were still playing out. In a less wordy statement, let's let a quote from [sgm] sum it up:
It is fucking scary. Like an angel telling you shit you know is true, but can't understand.
I wrote about "Rat Life Vol. 1" last week, so I felt like it was fair to go ahead and post up "Vol. 2". I really prefer these tracks. They're so stripped down and cold, especially compared to the versions of "Surrogate" and "Three Hearts" that would show up later in the year on "Plaster Hounds". The standout here is the live performance of "Witness". It remains one of my favorite songs by Chromatics. This version predates the "Healer b/w Witness" 12", and has a much icier feel.
Anyway, it's Friday, in case you haven't been looking at a calendar. Play this after dark, fool around with a switchblade, wear fingerless gloves. Stay off the medium drugs. Go check out Vinegar Syndrome's "Halfway to Black Friday" sale, maybe buy yourself a skin flick or some grindhouse. That's the Ape's advice for yr weekend plans.
203 E. Davis St. is Baltimore's version of 315 the Bowery. A decrepit three story house, surrounds by city court buildings and other concrete edifices, it housed three of Charm City's famed performance spaces. In the 80s and early 90s, it was home to Chambers. In 1997, the Ottobar opened, and quickly became the go-to indie/punk space in the city. The Ottobar moved uptown in 2001, and in 2003, the Talking Head moved across town from Mount Vernon to takeover the space. Our story begins there.
I'd started booking shows at the Talking Head (in addition to Charm City Art Space) after it moved in. I was starting to get some bands that played better in a bar than they did in a basement, and I loved the room, so it was a good fit. 20 patrons looked like a good crowd, 50 seemed packed. I saw that Glass Candy was coming through on one of my nights off; I was a fan of their first 7" "Love on a Plate", and they'd played CCAS the year before. I made plans to roll up, have a few drinks, and check out their show. The remaining lineup is lost to memory, but Chromatics were the opener. Their first LP, "Chrome Rats Vs. Basement Ruts", had come out on GSL a few months before, and the split with Die Monitor Bats from the previous year was straight fire. Chromatics did not disappoint. They ripped it for 30 minutes with a mix of the expected noisy punk and a newer dancy sound that would begin appearing on the following year's "Plaster Hounds" release. I remember their merch was non-existent; just a pair of CD-Rs. So I bought them both.
That's how I laid hands on "Rat Life Vol. 1". Collecting demos recorded by Johnny Jewel and Adam Miller ahead of that tour, this, along with "Rat Life Vol. 2", was a harbinger of the icy Italo-disco that Chromatics would echo in the coming years. Some of these tracks sound like they were recorded on a boom box; they pulse like the soundtrack to an uncertain doom. Most of the songs on "Rat Life Vol. 1" would appear in better fidelity on their first two LPs, as well as a few 7"s. I couldn't begin to tell you why half the songs on this CD-R aren't listed (this would be changed on the following "As Ratz In The Basement" CD-R). The unreleased gem here is a cover of Syd Barrett's "Love You", which never got re-recorded. It's more than a curiosity; "Rat Life Vol. 1" sets the foundation for musicians who'd revive a scene and score some amazing films in the coming years.
