ANIMAL DAYDREAM: CITRUS EP 7"

I remember being a little kid, agitated and bored in the backseat of our family station wagon. I was young enough not to be in school but old enough to be aware of what was around me. I would have to ride along with my mom to pick my dad up from his job. It felt like it was always gray, always cold, and everything just stood still, nothing to look forward to in the near future. I just witnessed people looking miserable, doing their daily routines and it depressed the hell out of me. Why the fuck would I want to be an adult? What a drag! What a serious fucking drag. I would escape into my head while sitting restlessly in the car, listening to the softer rock featured on AM Radio at the time. I would dream of places that had nonstop sunshine, full moons every night, and people who talked to each other about exciting things.

The radio was a friend that gave this dreary atmosphere a mysterious soundtrack, made-for-television movies about teen runaways made me feel like I possibly had a chance to go somewhere else. Those last words from the lost souls of the lost late 1970s haunted me in the early 1980s. The luminous sullenness of Fleetwood Mac, Gary Wright, and America held a darker meaning. It was the sound of neighborhood couples having affairs, going to strange parties, and losing their way in an impromptu sexual revolution.

Animal Daydream’s Citrus EP takes the soft strains of dark feelings and polishes them with a charismatic college-rock blade. The opening track “Citrus” lifts off immediately, with a contagious cocaine fluidity. The abundant harmonies and vibrant strumming bring to mind the retro daze of Fleet Foxes. The Brian Wilson bliss of “Sun (Turn Around)” has a nice touch of psychedelic expansiveness that beams into the ultraviolet buzz. “All That You Can Give” keeps the blissful flow moving along with a slight detour into folk rock balladry. Closing out this four-track collection of retro softer rock eccentricity is the choice cut, “In My Room”. This track has a serene and wired aloofness that eerily echoes the vibes of the Love classic, Forever Changes. If you’re looking for something different, then look this way.



JIGSAW RECORDS
ANIMAL DAYDREAM

--Kevin McGovern--
FEAR/LOATHING

ANTLERED AUNT LORD – Ostensibly Formerly Stunted (And on Fire) / Throwback Bikes Premiere

Video in motion, prisoners of our own electronic devices, the dull thud of a door closing, and the nervous shudder of one opening create unusual monsters in our imagination. There’s nothing more beautiful than a twenty-four hour establishment, reliable availability is so hard to find in an age of face-time dating and inconsistent suspicion. You can give into the constant state of panic, or just not give a fuck. I prefer the latter. Is it really worth wasting valuable moments of your life wondering if you have a safety net or back up plan? The neon laced violent dance of nature carves the tempo and twists reality into unrecognizable fashion statements constantly. The latest full length by Antlered Aunt Lord creates an alternate universe of apathetic gold for the unsuspecting masses. Impetuous hooks of melody and insomnia fueled chord changes forge a new wave of songwriting that is difficult to define but soothing in its syrupy uncertainty. This motherfucker of musical mayhem requires several listens to acquire a proper addiction, it shrieks and whispers like a fallen star staging a comeback with a live suicide for the final act.

Vocal commotion and overdriven amplified harmonies instigate a joyous paranoia of indie-glam-pop that hits hard and caresses with uncleanliness. If Frank Black covered the first two Squeeze albums and used Frank Zappa as his producer, it might come close to the opulent cacophony presented on Ostensibly Formerly Stunted (And on Fire). AAL consists of only one band member, the eccentric Jesse Stinnard (recording engineer and drummer of the infamous Tunabunny). This collection is a shortened showcase pulled from hundreds of songs that Stinnard has accumulated in an impressive short amount of time. Brigette of Tunabunny shot the video premiere (featured here) for “Throwback Bikes”. A very impressive debut that leaves you wanting more, but each listen opens up a fourth dimension that allows this body of songs to reshape and reinvent itself with repeated exposure.
Choice Cuts:
“Hi-Beam Hi-Priest”-“Pray for Glam”- “Questions from Our Publicist”-“Munsonfly”-“Sigil to Noise”

VIDEO PREMIERE - THROWBACK BIKES

HHBTM RECORDS


Kevin McGovern – FEAR/LOATHING

SPC ECO and MARK VAN HOEN

The world can be a very bizarre, very loud place at times. The insane volume of the current year’s unimpressive conclusions mixed with the annoying murmur of lives in motion, cars starting in the morning, empty laughter on lunch breaks, and meaningless chatter that booms within the walls of happy hour every day. December comes strutting in like a wounded woman, unknowingly beautiful feeling painfully invisible, but if you attempt to strike up a conversation, you will feel the sting of her disgust with reality. Art should never refer to itself as art. Those who observe it and flirt with it should decide that. The state of modern music is perplexing in many ways. Sonic introductions now reduced to a Tinder-like existence, swipe left, reject, swipe right, and listen. The average person now has an attention span of around seven seconds or so. This concept and fact-finding method has been applied to cinema, music, and newsfeeds that we all partake in. Flash and grab, strike a nerve, rattle an emotion but you better make it fast. I guess people are pretty scared to jump into the pool, the unpredictable chill of immersion. But then again it is December, and it does get pretty fucking cold.

Rearranged moods and obsessive grooves are the name of the game in two current releases that I’ve been letting myself get lost in recently. Saint Marie Records is a relatively new label with its own distinctive sound, there’s a certain crispness and mysterious hum within all of its releases. Whether it’s post-punk, shoegaze, dark-dream, or indie pop, each release is unique because it’s very obvious that artistic vision and creative prowess come before the need to launch “the next big thing”. The sounds of unhinged lust, jilted lovers, jealous rage, uncooperative desire, and mind-altered contemplation come to life in the latest albums by SPC ECO and Mark Van Hoen.

SPC ECO – Dark Matter (Saint Marie Records)

A dream within a dream soundscape that hesitantly advances into a lurid emotional conundrum, the quavering bang croons and rocks loosely with its slow brooding beats, techno drenched sex vocals, and delicate dark synth layers. With the vampire burn of Portishead and experimental shades of Chelsea Wolfe, this entity forges a sound that is decidedly current and seductively hostile in its use of slow, gyrating techno pop and plasma soaked bass line allure. The opening track “Creep In The Shadows” exemplifies the atmosphere of Dark Matter. Disappear into the night, dissolve in the bedroom, and daydream in sepia.

The hypnotic intercourse takes a smooth drop into gloomy hip-hop on “Down Low” which lays down a racy groove with sweet sparks of breathy distortion. Disfigured dream-pop luster creeps its way into the ultra-catchy “I Wont Be Heard” and coy tunefulness of “Playing Games”. “Under My Skin” produces a dreamy doomsday lullaby with a beautifully ravaged melody that floats and dissipates into SPC ECO’s Technicolor void. The entrancing vocals of Rose Berlin and composition skills of Curve’s Dean Garcia create a listening experience that is euphoric and uneasy with a deliberate and sculpted pacing that allows this record to breathe and sway, distraction free.

MARK VAN HOEN – Nightvision (Saint Marie Records)

Night and day warp into a blinding stream of buzzing opiate resonance on the latest release by underground ambient legend Mark Van Hoen. Surreal and winding in its spectrum of melody, with characteristics not unlike the ambient works of Steve Roach and Tangerine Dream, Hoen claims his own territory in the hazy world of symphonic drone. Beginning with his groundbreaking work in Locust and Scala, his non-linear evolution continues, bold and uncompromising in artistic vision.

Eerie sequenced harmonies of psychedelic bleakness gently invade the atmosphere with bewildering dynamics and vigorous lead melodies. Nightvision encompasses a series of techno orchestral movements that bleed together into an otherworldly listening experience. A psychological mind game that mourns and celebrates the horror of everyday life using a lush array of synthesizers and haunting loops as the narrator. Love and hate, beauty and terror, in the end we all face the inevitable.


--Kevin McGovern--
FEAR/LOATHING

RADIOHEARTS and JUKEBOX ZEROS

After a pleasant summer in the mouth of madness, playing Russian roulette with the the vast opportunities that breathe within instant gratification, problematic self-admiration, and self-loathing, I finally found the motivation to reconnect with some incredible new music after making a deliberate effort to disconnect from writing about anything, period. Getting lost in the winding waves of anonymous highways, dizzying displays of lights, and rechargeable personalities that wander like ghosts provided an opportunity to spark and drown in the rise and fall of summer 2015. Where does one go after such a thing? Fate decides that or spontaneous decision-making, whatever you want to call it. Two brand new releases caught my attention in the last two weeks that gave my nervous system a much-needed jolt of garage born electro-shock rock.

Radiohearts – Lot To Learn (No Front Teeth)

The brand new EP by Long Beach, CA’s power-punk-mod kings rages and roars like the bastard child of the Buzzcocks’ Singles Going Steady and the Damned’s Machine Gun Etiquette, staying out past curfew and stealing the neighbor’s car, running it straight into the ocean. Last year the band released the very solid Nothing At All EP, showing off their Clash inspired power-pop prowess. However, their latest offering is by far their best to date. The band’s sonic assault is more aggressive and cohesive in its delivery with the guitars up front and Ed Stuart’s vocals displaying moodier nuances than on their previous outings. With the rhythm-section providing a dirty and menacing pop swagger, bass lines twist and the percussion bounces in a volatile but sophisticated fashion that makes the band rank high among their fellow pop-rock noisemaking peers.

This four song collection wastes no time in delivering its infectious creations, I’m talking straight and no chaser. It’s pretty impossible to stop listening to the first two tracks “Lot To Learn” and “Decisions” (my pick for the “hit song” here). These two are a classic single in themselves with punky chord crunching and contagious hooks that dance and slice with the perfect bite. The two closing tracks “Heartbeat” and “Let Them Know” continue the razorblade-sugar assault with slick verse-chorus combos bringing to mind the intelligence of vintage Blondie and sharp attack of early Generation X. Kill the future and free your mind, you need this band. It’s hot and it’s happening now.

Jukebox Zeros – Count To Ten (Rankoutsider Records)

The long awaited full length from these infamous Philly garage-rock demons has finally arrived and it was definitely worth the wait! Produced by the legendary Dean Rispler, this album is a monster. A fun-filled terror train crashing through the streets of Philadelphia at 2 a.m., this Molotov cocktail of cheap booze, prescription pills, and rock n roll angst terminates everything in its path. Search and destroy is the mission and this record accomplishes it and even more. The Zeros have upped their game with Peter Santa Maria delivering unforgettable vocal performances on all the tracks, emphasizing melodies while using syncopated punk snarl to burn the house down. A heavy dose of pissed off punk infects the proceedings and the band heavily utilizes its secret weapon, powerhouse drummer Justin Lee. Lee pounds the drums like there’s no tomorrow and adds a whole new dimension to the garage-punk genre with his combination of thunderous floor tom bashing, pounding surf grooves, and 4/4 grind. The band dynamics blend in perfectly, explosive and trashy, this kicks ass.

“Snot Rocket”, “Hey Now! Oh My!” and “B Train” take the genre of punk rock n roll to dizzying new heights. “My Love” and “Green Wave” show off the power-pop chops of the band with sleazy guitar finesse and insidious surf stylings. “Drama Queen” and “Insomniac” are classic Jukebox Zeros with an enhanced 2015 venom that puts this band in a category of its own. Before you have your next nervous breakdown, drink a 40 oz. or three, shoplift some frozen pizzas, and tear the town up with this impressive and memorable powder keg of punk rock fury.


-Kevin McGovern-

LUNCHBOX - SMASH HITS

Seattle's Jigsaw Records has begun an onslaught of catchy and idiosyncratic 7" vinyl and full-length releases. I just got hip to their stylish and wayward celebration of independent music. With an ethos similar to early indie upstarts Beserkley and Stiff Records, the label is crossing boundaries while bringing back focus and fun to the scattered independent music scene. The cool thing about indie in the Internet age is that it is more accessible than ever. There was a time when you would have to stay up late to catch your local college rock station's prime hours on a Sunday night from 11:30 pm until 2:00 am. During that time, you would hear Minor Threat, Dinosaur Jr, the Smiths, and the Descendents all in one show. Now in place of having to record the proceedings on your boom box with a 90-minute cassette, we have blogs that filter and provide instant access. Gone are the days of waiting up for a midnight show or a monthly zine to show up at a record shop an hour away. I do miss the days of rummaging and hunting down mysterious band names you would read or hear about from a friend of a friend. At the same time, things change, move forward, and transform to fill the present void.

Lunchbox is like the pleasure-seeking orphan of the Weezer Blue Album, ditching the prom with their date to go hang out in the local graveyard, dancing on the burial sites of Nick Lowe and The Simpletones. Fusing the fuzziest nuances of pop with a careless and playful fever, while burying their own inhibitions, new sounds with familiar echoes are brought to life. The kids aren't alright and the world's a mess, ground zero for reckless summer fun. "Smash Hits" is 13 minutes of pure indie pop-punk bliss with the just the right amount of dirty ambiance to let the raw guitar and trashy drums highlight its five star tunefulness. The 7" format fits this extended song collection perfectly. The packaging includes a nice homage to the 90s with its cool front cover, featuring a reel-to-reel recorder and the classic back cover "footwear" photo, not to mention the perfect "slacker" font style. Six look-sharp blasts on one small record, perfect brevity.

The record fizzes with a wild aloofness and briskly cruises into overdrive producing a saccharine concerto of noise-pop wizardry. The EP kicks off with “Heaven”, a sweet Phil Spector by way of the Ramones inspired number. It’s followed by the scorching “Paws of Destiny”, which is reminiscent of the great singles that Shredder Records used to assemble on its classic CD compilations. The tracks “Friends” and “Flatland” provide punchy anthems replete with Rich Kids guitar style and garage rock aplomb. If you have any doubts about the rock prowess of this band, check out the kick ass “(It’s Your) Lovesong”. “Most Unlikely to Succeed” ends this collection with its self-deprecating Beach Boys harmonies and Queers style chord progressions. An essential addition to your vinyl or digital collection, my only complaint is that this classy noise-bomb of trashy pop goes by too quick, leaving you wanting more. Actually, that’s a good thing, this band plays hard to get, just the way I like it.


LUNCHBOX FACEBOOK
JIGSAW RECORDS

CHELSEA - SATURDAY NIGHT SUNDAY MORNING

Gene October’s Chelsea, from the original punk rock class of 1976, have always been one of the definitive bands from that era. With an explosive sound of gritty vocals, insanely catchy guitar leads, and revved up classic rock n’ roll chord progressions, the musical beast known as Chelsea continues its impressive and incredible songcraft to this day. Just listen to their back catalog of classic albums including Alternative Hits, Evacuate, and their legendary self-titled debut. You’ll hear how influential this force has been in punk rock music created during the last 25 years. The band has had two amazing comeback albums including the mind blowing Traitors Gate (1994) and the cool but powerful Faster, Cheaper and Better Looking (2005).

After 15 years, the band has returned to the studio with October and legendary band fixtures James Stevenson, Nic Austin, Mat Sargent, and Lee Morell. Why? Because life is just not right without a new Chelsea album to sink your teeth into and get your proper punk rock fix. Other bands from that era do not have the chops that October continues to wield throughout the tumultuous decades the band has survived in its own cool and confident pattern of existence. Impressive indeed, this new collection infuses the melodic ferocity of Alternative Hits with the introspective grit of Billy Bragg. October’s voice is in prime form and the musicianship is more dynamic and expressive than ever. Unlike other “reunion records”, this full length is relevant and vibrant in its delivery and execution. Spirited anthems for the current disgruntled generation, certainly present in the stellar tracks “Fuck All”, “It's About Time”, “You Never Ever Listen”, and “Johnny Has No Respect”. The real standout that displays their songwriting chops is the acoustic laden and hook filled “Saturday Night Sunday Morning”. Overall, this very solid outing will instantly grow on you with repeated listens, as a proper album should.

I remember the punk revival that occurred in the mid-1990s. I was really digging on bands like the U.S. Bombs, The Stitches, Stiffs Inc., and the TKO Records roster. I kept hearing the name Chelsea repeatedly in reference to these bands, it all seemed so new and alive to me. Later on in the decade, my own band played a Friday night show completely annihilated at a hotel in Allentown, PA. We were met with an awkward response due to our insane debauchery before and during our set. We decided to lay low in our rented van parked out front before we played instead of hanging out at the bar with the locals. We weren’t trying to be snobs, but were more concerned about getting busted with our conspicuous consumption of all things illegal in order to give the show that “extra bang”.

Extra bang indeed, and the following morning I woke up with my handy bottle of Bombay Sapphire to chase away the blues from the outlandish after show party. We headed to Lancaster, PA’s infamous Angry, Young, and Poor, downed a few beers before going inside and I went on a CD/record shopping spree with a recently acquired credit card (back when they just handed them out to anyone working at least 30 hours a week). Low and behold, I saw Chelsea’s The Punk Singles Collection 1977–82. I snatched up a copy, passed out on the van ride home, fell out of the van seat, hit my head on the door after nodding off, and woke up in my bed with a gnarly headache.

The first thing I did even before grabbing a glass of water and a sedative was getting this collection loaded onto my stereo. The speakers blasted with an uncanny power and fury, like the first time you hear Beethoven's "Ode to Joy". I was hooked for life. How could a band have an output like this, where every song is great? Only Gene October would know that secret. I’ve been following them ever since and they are always a mainstay in my playlist only with the Sex Pistols and Johnny Thunders LAMF. Saturday Night Sunday Morning is a worthy addition to my playlist, and I’m a tough customer when it comes to my favorite bands releasing new records. This extremely memorable affair will outlive another tumultuous decade and if October continues to march on, we can look forward to another unforgettable outing in the near future.


CHELSEA FACEBOOK
Plastichead
--Kevin McGovern
FEAR/LOATHING

BUNNYGRUNT - VOL. 4

Ruin me. That’s what I want. Money, that’s what I want. Life is a bent spectrum of absurdity and circumstantial evidence that vacillates in a bewildered pattern, throwing its passengers from side to side. It’s hard to say what you mean when everyone else lives in a black and white box or constant state of confusion. Energy and noise are the great equalizers that sometimes surpass the human condition of blankness and envy. Whether a pure situation is short lived or long lived, the impact remains if its victims are wholly consumed. The nocturnal breeze of distaste and pleasure comes and goes on its own terms.

Bunnygrunt was a band that almost ended before it even began in the hazy fog of mid 90s indie music. However, while they were there and slid into the future, the band left behind five full lengths and countless vinyl singles. Bunnygrunt has arrived again, fashionably late, and kicks out their own ephemeral and enigmatic jams in a reckless trash rock fashion that permeates with a grimy elegance. An interesting move for a band that made a name for itself with a sound that was firmly rooted in indie pop understatement. In the peculiar case of Bunnygrunt, it is the dawning of a new era. If you firmly close the door to the St. Louis band’s eclectic past, the new full length Vol. 4 is their first release.

A slurred speech of Wild Gift era X, Sonic Youth and the Fastbacks relentlessly inebriates its compulsive blur throughout this eight song power-garage blast bender. Vol. 4 is the cracked Rosetta Stone of teenage slacker ingenuity. Making out while blacking out, the desperation you feel when you’re stuck between the ages of 18 and 21. The sound of vandalizing your best friend’s apartment complex while popping ecstasy with the girl next door in an uneasy euphoria. An addictive and unnerving journey with trace evidence of the Rezillos, Vaselines, and Hüsker Dü scattered along the dark path to wherever you want to go. Fade in or fade out but the angst ridden background boom will drown out the silence of people living in silence.

The track “I Quit, Mr. White” is an exceptional standout among this eccentric and euphonious chemical rearrangement of modern music. It has one of those melancholy melodies that rocks and haunts you at the same time. “Open My Eyes” and “Still Chooglin” cruise into overdrive with diabolical verse and chorus combos that crack like a lit match on lighter fluid. “The Book that I Wrote” and “Just Like Old Times” deliver solid hooks and crunchy instrumentation with the outcome being disheveled and instantly memorable. “Frankie is a Killer” is a choice cut among this collection for the sheer fact it sounds exactly like one of those obscure punk tracks from the infamous Killed By Death volumes.

On a final and tastefully stinging note, the band deviously sneaks a post-punk opus on the listener entitled “Chunt Bump”. At a duration of 7 minutes, you would expect some kind of pretentious filler. This track rocks purely and intelligently with harmonious disarrayed chords and tempo changes that actually blend into a beautiful lament of days gone by, insatiable cravings, and the state of being stuck. The composition builds into a Tubeway Army like finale and uses a repetition of eerily pretty notes to burrow its way into the center of your mind. After all, isn’t that what reality is? What exists in the center of our minds? Our memories and our perception define all, whether it really happened or not. The facts don’t matter but this record certainly does. Five stars out of five stars.

BUNNYGRUNT FACEBOOK
HHBTM RECORDS
--Kevin McGovern
FEAR/LOATHING