various artists - Only The Strong MCMXCIII

Considering I've been listening to hardcore for 31 years is warping my brain a little bit. Which may be why I'm willing to consider a release on Victory Records, a label that Mark McCoy once sang "sucks" in an all-timer from Charles Bronson. But this comp, the tenth release on the now-notrious Chicago label, decidedly does not suck. It's led off by Warzone, one of the few bands still live and kicking from the seccond wave of HC.Then it's a pretty great lineup of bands that felt super huge to me when I was 16: Resurrection from New Jersey, Snapcase and Zero Tolerance from Buffalo, L.A.'s Strife, Louisville's Endpoint, and Black Train Jack from NYC.

In a time long before the internet, Warped Tour, or reunion package tours, or even when you could find many punk/HC records at your local record store, this was an audio flier for bands you could actually see play live. You could be that kid on the cover. You could drive to Blacksburg or Charlottesville or even all the way to DC to see someone like Bloodline play. It was the damndest game of telephone: reading zine reviews and fliers and thank you lists and distro pamphlets to discover what was available and currently happening. Resurrection was how I got into Lifetime; Endpoint led me to Slamdek Records; Warzone had me ordering records every three months from Revelation Records, newly relocated from Connecticut to Southern California.

The best part of this? I probably hadn't listened to this since the late 90s when I pulled this out of a box a bit ago. But the music still sounds vital, the lyrics no less strident than they did three decades ago. This still fucking rips.

Discogs

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various artists - Sides 1-4

Allow the cheat on this one; I am not the original ripper. although I have faithfully owned a copy of this for almost as long as it's been out. You can get a download or physical copy here from the very good folks at Skin Graft, and you probably should.

It's time to share my two cents on Steve Albini. So you get two posts in a day.

When this double 7" came out in 1995, I knew Steve Albini mostly from his engineering and his criticism. I was aware he had done a band with a couple guys from Naked Raygun in the 80s, and a band with a pair of fellas from Texas in the early 90s, but THIS was Shellac Number Seven, and my intro to them musically was a cover of Bon Scott-era AC/DC. Which kinda hurt my head, but also I dug in a huge way, even though I never got into AC/DC with the same enthusiasm as a bunch of the dudes I went to high school with. Anyway: cool intro.

But I worked backwards as time moved forward, as Steve's fingerprints continued to leave marks all over my taste. I bought a copy of "The Rich Man's Eight-Track Tape" at the same time I bought "Terraform", all the while discovering his recordings of Pussy Galore, Boss Hog, the goddamned Jesus Lizard. I had heard rumors that Fugazi went out to Chicago to record with Steve, only for his recording of "In On The Kill Taker" to get memory holed in favor of a Don Zientara engineered/Ted Nicely produced record. You knew I spent at least a dozen years trying to pin down a copy before a kind friend finally scored me a 4th generation dub. By the time "1000 Hurts" came out, I was a bona-fide fan, absorbing whatever wit and insight I could find in the pre-internet days from yellowing Forced Exposure reviews, and, in the instances where he'd own up to it, treating an Albini credit on a record as much a Seal of Quality as the Dischord logo or the Impulse! livery.

I discovered he could be a real prick, and sometimes cruel in the service of humor, but who amongst us isn't when we're 19 or 25 or 33, opinionated, sharing our thoughts publicly in a way so easily referenced. But more often than not, he was right. He, like all the best of us, held, demonstrated, and demanded a strong moral compass. He worked hard not to get in the way of other people's art, but, rather, tried to elevate them in the ways he knew how. His life was a great example that you could lead an ethical and intentional life, that you could also acknowledge your previous failures with grace and accountability. There are a few of these influences in my life; I rarely met them, but I appreciate the example they set, one that I strive to follow.

I've been discussing the loss of leaders a lot recently. People around me continually lament the death of those who become our North Stars, our cultural compasses. "Who will fill their shoes?" they ask. I'm sure as shit not going to record a "Magnolia Electric Co." or "24-Hour Revenge Therapy", but I cqn live an ethical life and help raise others up. This world can be shit a lot of the time, but it doesn't have to be that way. Thanks to Steve Albini for reminding me of that every single time his work crossed my path.

Discogs

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シェラック - Live In Tokyo

Shellac of North America record no. 5. A full blown banger that was released in Japan by K.K. Null's home, Nux Organization, and one that only ever came Stateside via bootlegs. This was ripped from my own bootleg copy of the Nux release. I would argue I prefer it over "At Action Park", but I think it's because I tend to get contrarian about Shellac. Which is what I assume esteemed poker player Mr. Albini would prefer.

I learned today, in between boxing up a bunch of CDs and watching the entire first season of "Reacher", that the founder of [shiny grey monotone], Ipecac, died in 2021. To quote his running mate Grey:

I feel an obligation to carry on in his honor because as goofy as blogging about music can be, it meant a lot to him, and the power of music is real. Harnessing these seemingly magical currents out of thin air in a way that makes music really is beguiling, and even after punishing my ears with it for decades, I still find the same thrill in hearing just the right combination of sounds. It will never cease to amaze.

Whenever I feel like stopping the writing permanently, I end up coming across another goddamned record like this, and I'm drawn to a very similar emotion as that which Grey refers to above. It is a solopistic, quixotic gesture to keep blogging for free about relatively obscure recordings in 2022. Yet I must, because there's someone who hasn't experienced this magical moment, captured 29 years ago and thousands of miles away, and to keep that magic to myself would be a sin.

Discogs

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Social Coma - self-titled

I bought this when it came out because it was the band Mark McCoy was in between Charles Bronson and Das Oath, so I figured it'd have to be pretty good. And it was. It's Mark on guitar, Jeff Jelen (MK Ultra) on bass, Simon Czerwinskyj (Long Live Nothing) on drums, and a woman named Christina on vocals. It's 11:37 of power violence gloriousness that originally came out as a 21 song, self-released demo tape, then was paired down to a 15 song 7" on NAT Records in Japan. This here was ripped from the Youth Attack reissue that came out in 2000 as the second release on Youth Attack. It also is, coincidentally, one of the only records I've ever been able to successfully rip from that stupid-ass Ion turntable I wasted $80 on.

This is the freakout that's been going in the background of my brain for most of 2020. I know you feel me.

Discogs

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Re-Re-up: Sweep the Leg Johnny - 4.9.21.30

(Re-up, June 2020: this is one of the first things I ever wrote for this blog [if not the first]. It's possible I re-bought this on vinyl last year just to have a vinyl copy.)

So I'm dating this girl. She's a riot grrl in 1997, so that should tell you something right off the bat. Or maybe not. But she & I get along swimmingly. We both live about 15 minutes from the Pennsylvania border in Maryland. We have a lot to do, but we spend most of our time making mix tapes for each other, hoping on the hood of my Grand Prix and shouting "Anarchy" and going to DC for shows. After all, the Ottobar was newly open, Memory Lane was a distant memory and the only thing Fletcher's was good for was the occasional H2O show.

She & I drive into DC to see Sleater-Kinney for the first time. We trek down to the old Black Cat, me terrified someone is going to break into the Grand Prix. It's probably the month "Dig Me Out" comes out, so we are fucking down for the show. I think Versus opened. Wow, they sucked. I'm not feeling it at all. Neither of us is legal drinking age, and if memory serves, there was no re-entry that night, so we both hawk the merch stand, furiously puffing cigarettes like only 20-year-olds can. (Now that I think about it, maybe it was 1998. I definitely seem to recall drinking a beer.) (But I digress.)

We end up behind the soundbooth, trying to talk over whatever P.A. music happened to be on. She had seen a flier for Fugazi's annual Fort Reno show, and we quickly made plans to attend. The music changes on the P.A. A marching band beat quietly plays. A guitar drops in for 8 bars, maybe 12. Then...fury.

"What the fuck is this?" I ask her. A shrug. Stop. Start. Weird time signatures. Whispery vocals that barely raise over the driving rhythm. For a kid raised on harDCore and John Coltrane, this was a revolution. "Seriously, have you ever heard something like this before-" and then I'm cut off by this skronky saxophone. And Mr. Whisper is hollerin' over the beat, and I really want to break a window out. That's how tightly by the throat this track has grabbed me.

I lean in to the soundguy. "Sorry to bug you, man," laying on my best impression of a hipster. "What is this you're playing?" "They're called Sweep the Leg Johnny. I think they're from Chicago or something." And that was the first time I heard Shower Scene.

I got to see Sweep live twice: once at the Ottobar, on a bill with Yaphet Kotto, the Exploder & League of Death; and out at the last Michigan Fest, where they were one of three reasons I drove halfway across the country for a show. I've heard them described as math-rock, but they always struck me as a little too aggressive for that tag.

Enjoy the reason I started this blog.

Discogs

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Lungfish - live at the Empty Bottle, 5 December, 2003

Photo by Pat Graham

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.

Fair play, Ipecac. Fair play.

Click here to download. 

Re-up: Trenchmouth Vs. The Light Of The Sun

Photo via Trenchmouth's Myspace page

Originally posted January 2009, which was a bloody long time ago.

Sorry, fam. Between vacation, catching up on work and the other various excuses that adults use to talk themselves out of fun, I haven't made any time to give you new music to listen to. So let me rectify this!

Trenchmouth is notable for a few reasons. Damon Locks gets a shoutout in the liner notes for Fiestas + Fiascos, which is the first time I'd ever heard of him (I'm a youngblood. What do you want from me?). Fred Armisen, star of stage & screen, played drums for them. And I heart Fred Armisen.

But, mostly, they were a kick-ass post-punk band from Chicago who cut a bunch of records, had some ties to Baltimore & DC and should be a helluva lot more appreciated these days. ...Vs. The Light Of The Sun is Trenchmouth's third full-length. Skene! released this one in conjunction with EastWest Records. It always cracks me up to see which punk rock bands got signed back in the early 90's. EastWest had Trenchmouth & Sick Of It All on their roster in 1994. Yep, someone totally got fired from their A&R job.

Anyway, I think I picked this up for $2 at Soundgarden back in 1999, then promptly misplaced the actual CD for about 7 years. My copy also came with a most excellent obi strip, which I feel is a most underutilized add-on for CDs. File this under excellent housecleaning music.

Click here to download.