Let's Get Hurt

R.I.P. Brendon Annesley

2012-02-02T21:11:00.000-08:00

Thank you

2011

2012-01-04T09:02:00.000-08:00

New music, shmew music. Here's a list of the 10 best records I bought this year, regardless of release date. Dig in the used bins (physical or online), as there's certainly more gold there than in the new release trough.

10) WILDWEEDS - S/T LP (Vanguard, 1970)
A perfectly great rocky-rolly band fronted by a young Al Anderson, captured in his formative years prior to joining the illustrious and world-beating band known as NRBQ. Even then, his soulful, big-as-hell voice matched his mish-mash songwriting perfectly. Soul, rock, folk and country all at once. See "Mare, Take Me Home" here for a quick winner with staying power.

9) MICHAEL NESMITH - Compilation LP (Pacific Arts, 1978)
I just got sick of buddies babbling about how great his First National Band records are, so I made a budget pick-up to see for myself. Surprisingly, these buddies of mine DON'T have shit for brains. This collection is merely a place holder for the legit LPs it compiles, all of which I've got an eye out for. An easy, mandatory look into this must be made by Burrito Brothers bros.

8) COCKNEY REJECTS - Greatest Hits Vol. 1 LP + 7"EP (EMI, 1980 [though mine is this 1993 reissue job on Dojo w/bonus 7"EP])
I think hearing too many shitty Clash records soured me on UK punk for a decade or so. Enter the recent Cock Sparrer reissues and Old Speckled Hen becoming readily available and BOOM: I'm a boot boy. Well, not really. This record SOUNDS perfect and has made me convulsively yelling "Shitter!!!" (accented, of course) whilst stomping around my dining room.

7) UTOPIA - Deface The Music LP (Bearsville, 1980)
Yes, one of the more embarrassing admissions I must make this year is that I sought out and purchased a Utopia album (I even put back the first few $3.99 and $2.99 copies for being "just too expensive"), but this one's light on the prog-suck. T.Rund's a popper of the absolute highest order when he wants to be, and this tribute/concept album of Beatles emmulation is actually chock full of good songs.

6) GOLLIWOGS - Pre-Creedence LP (Fantasy, 1975)
My single most jammed tune of the entire might've been CCR's "It Came Out Of The Sky". Nothing of the pre-CCR Golliwogs matches the intensity of that, but this collection of singles'n'shit is great American garage rock. I feel like the East Bay should be littered with this LP, but it's not. Should be in every home in Alameda County.

5) NAKED LADY WRESTLERS - Accidents flexi 7" (Thrasher, 1984)
The humorous legacy of this band is made up of more stories than recordings, which might be for the best. Still, it's the duty of every small town fuckwad to embrace localism and set out to capture their hometown punk nuggets (a more difficult feat if you're from L.A., but I digress). Thank you, faceless Discogs seller, for allowing me one faint glimpse at civic pride. I called Max Volume a couple years ago, asking about master tapes and reissue nonsense. Biafra's had it under lock and key for several years now. Hope it happens.

4) The Great PAUL MAROTTA Backstock Dump
What an absolute pleasure it is to stroll to the record shop and procure the following unplayed/sealed items for nice prices:

V/A - THOSE WERE DIFFERENT TIMES 3x10"/Book (Scat, 1997)

PAUL MAROTTA - Agit-Prop Piano 12" (Do Speak, 1983)

HUDSON-STYRENE - A Monster And The Devil 12" (Tinnitus, 1989)

THE STYRENES WITH CHARLOTTE PRESSLER - True Confessions 12" (Mustard, 1982)

STYRENE MONEY - I Saw You 7"EP (Mustard, 1977)

PAGANS - Street Where Nobody Lives LP (Resonance, 1989)

If only walking into a record shop was this fruitful EVERY TIME. Fuckin' A, bub. There's just YEARS of unbeatable, life-altering music on these records. Still more to pick up...

3) LIVERPOOL ECHO - S/T LP (Spark, 1973)
I've been searching the landscape for Beatles-After-Beatles knock-offs (see that Utopia record) that come off more like Badfinger or The Flame than they do the legit Fab Four. What can I say? It's just more my speed. Liverpool Echo is a distant 2nd to Rockin' Horse, but occupying the same general orbit.

2) DAVID NUDELMAN - Lays An Egg 7"EP (Planet Pimp, 1994)
The one Nudelman record that seemed to escape my grasp more than the others, which was frustrating since I remember seeing it EVERYWHERE shortly after it came out and for years afterwards, but whatever. The genius at play here is impossible to deny. "Too Lazy To Pee" and "Finger Fucking Time" are bonafide classics of the Budget Rock novelty variety, but the kickers are the Dave-As-A-Ladies-Man testimonial snippets from beauties like D'Lana Tunnel and Elka Zolot. Also, along with a few Trashwomen songs, "Lays An Egg" marks the debut of Kreayshawn, who calls Nudelman an asshole on this very disc!. Records like this don't come out anymore. Which is total fucking horseshit.

1) THE CRAMPS - Surfin' Bird 7" and Human Fly 7" (Vengeance, 1978)
Stroking, petting and licking these two debut singles brings me endless amounts of joy. Perfect records by a perfect band. Life-changers, really.

What I'll be doing for the next 2-3 months

2011-11-03T09:49:00.001-07:00

2009 was the banner year for this beer, one that I've enjoyed annually since the age of 18 or so. 2009 was IT though. 2010? A little too FOOFY. 2011? Back with a goddamn bang! Had my first last night, after some Little Star Pizza, while watching Oakland get Occupied on TV (and on my porch). While I'll leave it to Beer Advocate and various other pundits to describe the nerdy stuff, I will say that this is spiced juuuuuuust right this year (2010 was TOO MUCH and resembled cinnamon Nestle Quik). I'll be enjoying it on a nightly (YES, NIGHTLY!) basis as long as it is available.

Palatal Expander #3

2011-10-11T07:27:00.000-07:00

I hope everyone enjoyed the break. I didn't.

Because of this, I can think of no better reason than to return to the justly ignored digi-spew that is the Palatal Expander series. I willingly took (small) chances and actually purchased the records listed below in an effort to listen to shit out of my comfort zone. Recent findings, fair and foul....

Simon & Garfunkel - Wednesday Morning, 3AM LP (Columbia Records, 1964)

Ummm...WHY? Well, I'm 33 years old and I had never heard Simon & Garfunkel without their assigned baggage as 60s icons. In my lifetime, the context that this band has been presented and exalted in is pure history book stuff: the soundtrack to every documentary on the era, signifier of some grand shift in national consciousness and pop-as-poetry heroes. Time/Life horseshit. But a good buddy laid a CD-R smattering of his recent faves on me and, right next to Hubble Bubble and Johnny Kidd, was "I Am A Rock". It was the first time I had heard any Simon & Garfunkel without some Super-8 footage of some schmoes getting body-painted in a field somewhere. And wouldn't you just know it: "I Am A Rock" is a great Rock'n'Roll song. So, armed with a pocket containing maybe 3 crumpled up $1.00 bills, I made my way to Telegraph Ave. and plunked down $1.99 for a used copy of their debut effort, a record that doesn't exactly strengthen their cases as ROCKERS, but introduces them in what I can only imagine is the least offensive manner possible. "Exciting new sounds in the Folk tradition" is only a half-truth. Much of what's featured here are known folks songs, executed faithfully and, truth be told, incredibly plainly. It's difficult to imagine a time and place where "Go Tell It On The Mountain" could be described as exciting or new. Perhaps on the fucking mountain when dude was up there, actually tellin' it. Not on this fuckin' record and not compared to ANYTHING else available in 1964, that's for sure. But, as my CD-R buddy told me, S&G's vocal interplay really is quite awesome: they sing together in such an interesting and perfect way that's it's as creepy as it is impressive. The passion here is obviously in their originals, including "The Sound Of Silence", which, as Garfunkel's annoyingly cute liners point out, was Simon's first attempt at a major, defining, important piece of work. Hearing it NOW, without a blitzkrieg of back story and social significance, I can actually say that it's a great piece of songwriting and something that I can actually enjoy listening to.

John Phillips - John, The Wolf King Of L.A. LP (Dunhill Records, 1970)

Our boys at Hacking At Slop prompted a visit to Berkeley's Rasputin's basement and, following in the footsteps of Kegerator General Mr. sonny house, I too pony'd up for a copy of this gem. Life has improved drastically since the purchase. Why, just last night I spun this record while eating linguine and clams with my lady. As we all know, Phillips was slime in its most awesome form: incest and peppermints, casualty of The Canyon, unreal highs and lows in pursuit of Utopia via his perch as Dr. Good Times, M.D. He's not the sort of STONED BRO one finds endearing, like Doug Sahm or even Dennis Wilson. No sir. Dude's gotta a palpable ick about him that's you only wanna observe at a distance. With songs like "Drum" or "Malibu People", you can't stay outside. Perfect songs like this suck you in. Sure, you come out sticky, but you still groove. Such a weird, wonderful record, decadent and filled with great, dark countryish pop. I fucking LOVE it.

What is it that drives a man to madness?

2011-08-29T09:13:00.000-07:00

http://www.ebay.com/itm/Rare-Punk-Holy-Grail-OPUS-Atrocity-Procedures-/220835705018?pt=Music_on_Vinyl&hash=item336ad570ba&autorefresh=true#ht_1187wt_945

God Bless You Johan Kugelberg

2011-08-26T09:36:00.001-07:00

Apache Dropout was bold enough to say it, but I'm glad someone did. Mr. Kugelberg seems to have his fingers in an awful lot of pies, most of which resemble Duarte's Olallieberry Pie in that they are shrouded in secrecy and delectable beyond all comprehension. Had to throw a food reference in there, right? Anyway...Killed By Death Vol. 1 - 4, True Norwegian Black Metal, Big Apple Rappin' (for our purposes, think of this as Killed By Hip Hop) and so much more. Pretty cool shit, of course.

This particularly worthless blog entry is an appreciation of a priceless article Mr. Kugelberg wrote a couple years back, which you can find in Ugly Things #26. This particularly obsessive yet highly entertaining article, focusing on music that can only be described as "Punk Before Punk", is easily the finest, most informative, most exciting article on records and Rock'n'Roll written in at least a decade. I shit you not. In fact, it smashed me on the head so violently that even I wrote a letter to UT's editor praising it! And they print the gushing letter of approval in #27, which I didn't consider, but...OH WELL.

This article, much like Kugelberg's list of the Top 100 Punk 7"s + Top 100 DIY 7"s, came to shape my musical obsessions and record buying habits in the months/years following it's publication. "Punk Before Punk" has stuck with me a lot longer though, and I still fixate on much of its content. Also, not surprisingly, the bevy of records I've managed to secure thanks to this article's guidance have brought me unspeakable amounts of joy.

For example................................

HURRIGANES

It's difficult to imagine pre-punk 70s Rock'n'Roll being more potent than Hurriganes. JK likens them to AC/DC in that there's not a single false move in their execution, which I'd be a fool to disagree with. I've managed to nab Roadrunner, Crazy Days, Stranded In The Jungle, Jailbirds and Hurrigane (a comp LP) and all are totally off-the-charts HARD ROCKIN'. A singing drummer that looks like a dock worker / biker? A bass player that flirts ever so slightly with Stray Cats annoyances (DA, leopard print, etc), yet manages to come off as authentic dispite being (let's just say it) Finnish? An absolute SHREDDER on guitar? Versions of "Keep On Knocking" recast as amphetamine pummel? Racist introductions to tunes like "Chinatown"? The way the word "Alabama" sounds in that accent? This is a perfect, perfect band. Download something, find something on eBay or Discogs or Gemm or anywhere else. NOW.

JK's next surefire winner appears to be due in April 2012. CHECK THIS FUCKER OUT!

Palatal Expander #2

2011-07-15T09:47:00.000-07:00

I had originally intended to make this a regular series for Let's Get Hurt, but laziness got the best of me. Funny how that ALWAYS happens. Anyway, my time as a weekend record store clerk is drawing to a close. 6 day work weeks have proved too shitty to cope with and the financial reward doesn't justify the lack of free time. I'm old, tired and want to lay around with my lady. I won't miss working retail AT ALL, but it's fun to lock yourself in and hear new records. Maybe I can keep this habit up on my own time? Hope so.

Howlin' Wolf - "Change My Way" LP, Chess Records
I'm hesitant to discuss anything even remotely associated with Blues just because I fucking HATE the old white dude Santa-as-a-hippie-burnout "enthusiasts" who celebrate it. This breed is all too common in the SF area and it depresses me to no end. I find it VERY difficult to listen to and enjoy this kind of stuff simply because I'm picturing a Wilford Brimley lookalike tapping his sandal-protected feet to it. Barf-a-fuckin'-rama, dudes. That said, the allure of this particular record can not be ignored. It's appeal is endless, especially since no amount of scholarly bullshit can convince me that this is anything but a Rock'n'Roll record. I mean, c'mon...It worked plenty of wonders as Mr. Beefheart's blueprint, right? It's not a filthy or dirty record, at least not outright, but it makes you wanna move in an illicit, rampant fucking-in-the-streets sort of way, and for that, I'm on board. You just get the impression that it's a collection of one-take workouts, captured only as a formality because the players have too much drinking and fucking to do. It's man shit, no doubt about it. The guitar on "Don't Laugh At Me"? Stumbling psych before such a thing even existed. In a word: ooomph. Every single time I play this record in the store, a customer asks (A) who it is (B) if we have it in stock and (C) if I will sell the in-store play copy to them immediately. I suppose it's just THAT good. Anyway, this one seems to be a tad on the expensive side (trading for $30+ much of the time), but I found a perfect copy for $14 with minimal effort. I'm sure you could do better than that in a few swipes, but the thought of a Sunday without this one was simply too much to bear.

Richard & Linda Thompson - "Shoot Out The Lights" LP, Hannibal Records
Here is a "band" that I had heard of, but knew absolutely nothing about and had ZERO inclination to ever investigate. But I saw the LP on the floor of the shop, tucked away amidst a sea of beat-to-shit Doobies best-ofs and gave it a whirl. Was I hungover and trying not to shart that day? YES. But "Shoot Out The Lights" shook me back to life with its excellent, curious crunch-pop songs and semi-ridiculous production. It's a confused but incredibly entertaining record, very much of its time (which, coincidentally, was confused and entertaining!). It's got this stereotypical Big-80s sound, but the songs are intricate and slightly deviant. It doesn't match at all, yet that's what make it so interesting. I suppose I imagined some lazy acoustic bullshit with a cutesy husband'n'wife motif. Instead, these are guitar-driven 80s Rock'n'Roll songs delivered with a tad too much poetry to catch fire in the waning punk era. Outta place and very much it's own thing, yet still immediately pleasing to the ear. I had no idea there was any connection to past Palatal Expander heroes Fairport Convention until I Google'd the fuckin' thing. Makes sense I guess, as this is heavy in a similar way. "Wall Of Death" is such a ridiculously good tune and top-notch closer to the LP. I can play this front-to-back without guilt or even boredom. It's just a good 'un. Not sure if this was ever released domestically, but I'm sure it was heavily imported, so scour away. 4 Men With Beards gave it the reissue treatment, so a brand-spanker would run around $15.

Ike & Tina Turner And The Ikettes - "Come Together" LP, Liberty Records
I suppose this doesn't really qualify as a true Palatal Expander since it's been nestled in my T section since my teens. One of my first true $1 bin victories, this "Come Together" LP. I neglected this album for several years though, revisiting it by chance one day in the shop. Naturally, it made its way into heavy Sunday rotation at Red Devil with winning results. This is another record that, when played in store, always produces gotta-have-it customer interest. And rightly so. Ike and Tina's roles on "Come Together" are so clearly defined, but executed so flawlessly. Ike's stone cold as Thee Boss Man Rocker, playing/crafting this shit like owns it. Tina? Her performance here is world-beating. Sweet numbers, cool groovers, uncensored fuck music, all executed with expert grit. My pick as the finest of their many killer LPs, which is saying a whole hell of a lot. I can and have listened to this record 10+ times in a row and still be entertained. Got $5 or less? Then you got this LP.

Until next time...whenever that is!

ICKY BOYFRIENDS: Gonerfest 8

2011-06-22T08:47:00.000-07:00

Jon, Shea and Tony B are doing it again in Memphis this Septemeber. My beloved ICKY BOYFRIENDS will be playing GONERFEST 8 this year. I've already purchased my weekend pass and will be saving my pennies for this glorious event.

New goal in life: visit the Civil Rights Museum with Jon, immediately followed by Gus's Chicken. Could happen.

Rave-Up Round-Up

2011-04-05T07:08:00.000-07:00

Fans of prime-era ('77-'82) obscure punk rock have no doubt encountered Rave-Up Records, an Italian reissue label that has released close to 75 assorted LPs and 7"s of excavated "treasures" from both The Old World and the U.S. of A. Depending on your appetite for goodies of this nature, you either follow them religiously or ignore them completely. My own relationship with their catalog has fluctuated over the years, having gone through periods of extreme interest and excitement to violent rejection and ill-wishing.

When the series first appeared, there were a few legit jaw-droppers (see their early TESTORS, FEATURES and LOS REACTORS LPs) that made just about everyone go nuts. Please keep in mind that these records were released well before the appearance of things like MP3 blogs and various file-sharing platforms. For those of us without collector-elite checkbooks, these were often the only places one could hear the "uncomped" songs by many of these bands. You checked them out based on the strength of their comp tracks on any volume of Back To Front or Bloodstains Across... or Killed By Death. There was still a sense of mystery there: what the fuck does the flip to "Floozie Of The Neighborhood" sound like?!?!? Rave-Up's series answered a lot of those questions. Some made the case stronger for classic credentials. Others...not so much!!!

In the 10 or so years since Rave-Up's appearance however, the label has seemingly run out of marquee names to pimp and released a long string of shoddily assembled, poorly mastered reissues by bands that could only be considered also-rans, even against the backdrop of obsessives-only obscure punk collector BULLSHIT. Yes, I am looking at you GREGOR MCKENZIE. Attempts to spice their barrel-scrapings with actual honest-to-goodness killers like EPICYCLE, LA PESTE and THE SHIT DOGS were only marginally victorious. Shitty artwork. Shitty pressing. Shitty mastering. Lifeless, really. Their failures have only been amplified by the emergence of high-quality punk reissue imprints like the absolutely astounding Sing Sing Records, Japan's 1977 Records and newbie Last Laugh Records. With labels like this playing the reissue game, there's little or no room to half-ass it, which Rave-Up continues to do with varying degrees of severity.

So it was with much trepidation that I approached their latest batch. Of the 6 or so new titles, I selected 3 that I knew I'd want to own: STORMTROOPER's "I'm A Mess", THE WASPS' "This WAS Punk" and THE USERS' "Kicks In Style". That's right: I'd had enough of the "Lost American Punk Nuggets" series and opted for the UK punk this go-around. Sue me. While the packaging and mastering definitely leave a lot to be desired (ahem: DON'T DOWNLOAD MP3s TO PRESS THESE RECORDS and USE EXISTING, CLASSIC ARTWORK INSTEAD OF BULLSHIT EURO-DISCO FLYER LAYOUT!!!), I'm please to report that these three volumes all totally scratch the itch. Rave-Up has apparently taken the hint that fans of this shit don't want bullshit live tracks or crud-fi rehearsal hisses. What we want are the goods, on vinyl, for a fraction of the price. Here, they've done their best.

Stormtrooper pleases on the tuff-guy proto-punk level, nipping at the heels of juggernauts like CRUSHED BUTLER. It's primitive, semi-thuggy simple punk rock from 1975 UK. There's a reason it doesn't share the same mouth-frothing that Hector's boys do: it's just not quite as good!!! That said, I literally can't get enough of this type of shit as of late, so I'm liable to lap up anything remotely resembling proto for the next 6 or 7 minutes/years.

The Users are certainly not strangers to the KBD crowd, having had both their singles comped multiple times. This LP is a straight rip of a CD that came out last year via the Bin Liner label: both singles comp'd with a few unreleased songs. (SIDEBAR: I find that the only thing more annoying that Rave-Up's half-ass scheme is an obscure punk reissue as a CD-only release. Do you want to drink a cheeseburger? It makes NO SENSE AT ALL.) The unreleased tunes are surprisingly poppy, especially when put alongside The Users' more well-known output. Good shit, I say.

Finally, and best of all, is The Wasps. If you can get past the dumb title and HORRIBLE artwork, this is the absolute pick of the litter. "Teenage Treats" has gotta be a Top 5 UK punk single, not to mention one that I've lost on eBay several times over the past couple years. Here it is, along with a slew of other top-tier UK punk. This band has always struck me as being far too musically capable to be placed alongside the stereotypical gobb-drenched yobbos that are so prevalent when it comes to this genre/locale. This is a pro fuckin' band with a pro fuckin' sound that make pro fuckin' punk. INTO IT IN A MAJOR WAY.

Rave-Up still has a long way to go if they wanna hang with the reissue clique in 2011, but baby steps like these are totally welcome.

Dispatches From The Complaint Department

2011-04-01T12:14:00.000-07:00

I've never really considered myself as a naive fellow, but yesterday I was swindled with such ease that it's caused me to question my instincts. Still fresh-faced in my new neighborhood (the edge of West Oakland), I gave my new "neighbor" the benefit of the doubt and wound up getting burned. A deflating, fucked exercise.

Appointments, alarm clocks, commuting, unpacking, bureaucracy, hustling...who has time for romance, relaxation or fun?

The sheer amount of frustration that Comcast has caused me over the past month is nothing short of amazing. Here is my very first complaint letter that I've ever written to a company. I sent it a week ago and have not yet heard back. Posting this here is both thrilling and embarrassing.

I contacted Comcast on 3/14 to transfer service to my new apartment. I also elected to upgrade my service by adding digital phone to my account. The entire process, which is still currently unresolved, has been an inconvenience to the point of absurdity.

Upon my initial call to 1-800-COMCAST, I was told that the address I was moving to was "red-flagged", meaning that Comcast refused to transfer service to this location until I went to a Service Center. I was told that this was in no way a reflection on the standing of my account, but due to other accounts previously held at this address being delinquent. Although other accounts are none of my concern AND I have been a Comcast customer in good standing (never sent to collections) for a number of years, I was told I had to drive to a service center (10+ miles from my home) and show one of your representatives my ID and, for reasons still unknown and quite questionable to me, a copy of my lease.

Although I found this policy invasive and needlessly inconvenient, I went to the Service Center as instructed, waited in line for 20+ minutes and dealt with your representative, who agreed to transfer service after I showed my lease and ID. I scheduled an appointment for 3/18 for a technician to install cable, internet and phone lines at my apartment, telling your representative that drilling would be required since this is a newly-remodeled building and existing lines were not available in the house. The representative told me Comcast technicians will complete the drilling upon installation and she confirms that she made note of this on my account screen.

45 minutes prior to the designated appointment time on 3/18, a Comcast technician arrived at my home for the appointment. I was not on-site, but my girlfriend/co-tenant was. She let the technician in and he promptly refused to complete the service because there was no written authorization from allowing my girlfriend to approve the installation. At no point in this process was I ever informed of the account holder’s requirement to be on site during installation. Furthermore, since I was forced to make the appointment IN PERSON and show my lease (which also includes my girlfriend's name on it), I had no reason to even suspect that there would be any issue. My girlfriend got me on the phone in the hopes the technician would speak to me, but he refused. The technician also refused to call his Comcast supervisor to verify the installation or alert anyone of the issue and promptly left. To add further frustration, he was gone 30+ minutes before my appointment's scheduled start-time.

In turn, no one Comcast contacted me, the account holder, at any point during this difficulty. In the midst of this total debacle, my girlfriend called 1-800-COMCAST to explain the situation. The customer service representative still refused to call me, but inexplicably allowed my girlfriend to reschedule the appointment for Sunday, 3/20. DOES THIS SEEM STRANGE TO YOU??? Your technician refused to complete the installation because the account holder was not on site, yet my girlfriend (who does not have my account number OR social security number for verification purposes) was able to call Comcast, access my account and schedule an appointment without my knowledge. Not only is this ironic, it's infuriating and, I would assume, a severe infraction of your terms of services and customer privacy policies.

Having dealt with Comcast's seemingly unending service failures both in person and via the phone, I reluctantly signed on to your Customer Service live chat forum at Comcast.com to hopefully make some headway in actually getting the service that I requested and have been paying for. Upon signing on, the chat representative confirmed the new appointment made by my girlfriend for 3/20, which was the first I had heard of this at that point. I relayed the difficulties in the process thus far and again mentioned that drilling would be required. I was told this was noted, an apology was given and I was told that all this would be rectified upon the instillation appointment on 3/20. I then marked off the one full week without Comcast service and awaited the 3/20 appointment.

On the morning of 3/20, your technician arrived and alerted us of yet another issue and another new hoop I would be forced to jump through. Not only did he arrive without the knowledge that drilling would be required (as I had already mentioned TWICE before), he flat-out refused to do any drilling because we had not obtained a Letter of Permission from our landlord. In spite of the numerous attempts on my part to get answers from Comcast, this apparently integral piece of information wasn't given to me until far too late. The technician instructed me to obtain a letter and make a new appointment. The difficulty continued...

That very day, I obtained a letter from my landlord releasing Comcast and I from any liability involved with the drilling and installation of cable, internet and phone at the apartment. On 3/21, I called 1-800-Comcast to make yet another appointment, my THIRD. After waiting on hold for 5 minutes, a representative took my call and told me there were no appointments available for a week and change. I asked to speak with a manager and the rep agreed to transfer me. I was then put on hold for 35 MINUTES. I ended the call without speaking to a manager due to your hold times (or, more than likely, simply not transferring me), exhausting my entire lunch hour.

I called again after work, reaching a representative and immediately requesting that I be put in contact with a manager. You representative informed me that all the managers are in remote locations, so she could not simply transfer me. HOW EFFICIENT. I gave your rep my contact number and requested that she have a manager call me as soon as one became available. 20 minutes later, I’m FINALLY able to speak with a manager at Comcast. I relay the entire saga (just as I have done here) and am given a full apology and a promise that the situation will be rectified by him. He stated that my bill would be pro-rated and I would not be charged for the time without service. He also suggested offering a free upgrade with more premium channels, wiping away my existing Comcast balance AND offering me an additional $50.00 credit. At present time, these offers remain unfounded and I have not received any notice of their authenticity.

I requested a new appointment after 4pm for 3/22. This threw up yet another stumbling block for Comcast, as my area isn't zoned for 4pm - 6pm appointments for reasons unexplained to me. While the overwhelming majority of Oakland's neighborhoods are available for 4pm appointments, the manager insinuated that my location didn't make the cut because was because it was "urban"; Comcast has apparently deemed the area unsafe after nightfall. This policy, like so many other Comcast policies that I've become painfully aware of in the last week, is not only inconvenient but quite disrespectful to those of us that actually spend our nights and lives in this neighborhood. Comcast doesn’t seem to have much issue charging the inhabitants of this “unsafe area” monthly though. It would appear that even though we can only be dealt with during daylight hours, our money is still green 24/7.

Seeing as how Comcast has literally gone out of the way to make this installation next to impossible to complete, I have once again asked my girlfriend and co-tenant to take time off work (she has now lost a full day's pay thanks to Comcast) and be on hand to welcome your next technician into our home on 3/22. The required Letter of Permission AND a photocopy of my ID with written authorization to approve the installation on my behalf were prepared in advance.

Can you guess what's coming next??? Your technician arrived totally unaware that drilling would be required and then told her that Comcast doesn't even do drilling. My girlfriend requested that he call his supervisor to verify, to which your technician, in a remarkable and incredible display of actual service, decided to actually take a moment and comply with the customer's request. I found this to be extremely questionable, as I was growing accustomed to Comcast’s total and complete stupidity. With that call, a supervisor was dispatched to my house to supervise the installation, causing further on-site delay AND calling into question the skill-level of your technician. Once the supervisor arrived, he instructed my girlfriend that the proposed drill sites were inefficient, yet reluctantly agreed to do so. The drilling took roughly 5 mins…obviously a severe burden.

The lone cautionary instruction given to your technician and his supervisor was to keep the doors closed behind them when entering and exiting the house so our cat wouldn't get lost outside. Not surprisingly, these instructions were ignored and the cat was let out by Comcast employees and went missing for roughly 30 minutes. When my girlfriend alerted the technicians of their error in letting the cat out, she was told to not worry about it and that the cat would “probably” return. Rather than engage in further idiocy with Comcast’s totally insensitive and dangerously negligent employees, my girlfriend searched for our cat and thankfully managed to locate him in a yard several houses away from ours. Upon returning to our home with our cat, she overheard one of your technicians bellow “I’m a genius!!!” His claim, much like your promise of quality customer service, remains unfounded. This final appointment resulted in us FINALLY having our service established at our home. I consider this to be nothing short of a miracle.

NOW....I would like Comcast to explain how this continuous string of service failures managed to happen in such rapid-fire succession to one customer.

Why did I have to go to a service center?

Why did I have to show my lease?

Why wasn't I told that I needed to be on-site during the installation?

Why wasn't I called when a problem came about?

Why did your technician leave before his appointment start-time?

How was someone not affiliated with my account, who possesses none of the account verification information, able to access my account and make service appointments without my authorization?

Why wasn't I told that I needed a letter of permission at the outset of this process?

Why was I on hold for 35 minutes?

Why didn’t any of the 3 technicians dispatched know that drilling would be required even though I made that abundantly clear?

Why didn’t your technicians maintain the security of our home and allow our cat to escape?

WHAT IS COMCAST GOING TO DO TO MAKE THIS SITUATION RIGHT???

These questions need to be answered.

Mitch Cardwell

Re-reading this confirms that not only have I turned into my father, but I've become much worse.

Fuck.

BAD WEEK.

Palatal Expander #1

2011-03-21T08:12:00.001-07:00

It only took 32 years, but I recently started working 1 day a week at a friend's record store. Some extra cash in exchange for Sundays filled with mild hangovers, greasy lunch options and ample time dedicated spinnin' reckerdz at my leisure. The store is located in thee western sector of Marin County, servicing a clientele that ranges from rich housewives taking a stand against Best Buy to burnout stoned locals to kids with an allowance that's burning a hole in their pocket (an allowance that definitely amounts to more than I'm seeing for my shift). Diggers, punks and the adventurous buyers tend to be a little rare, but they occasionally come in and it's always interesting.

Obviously, the best part is listening to records all day long. Once a focal point of my life, the time I've spent at home listening to music has decreased considerably in recent years. I guess it sort of gave way to work, relationship shit, chores, etc. I really look forward to Sunday now though...just digging in to the racks and seeing what sticks. And there have been some goodies. I've heard all the punk records in the store, so why not venture out to the other sections??? That's what I've been doing and the results have been eye-opening and exciting. Here's three faves that might work for you....................

Booker Little - Quartet

"I may not know art, but I know what I like." That familiar, snide expression is exactly how I feel about jazz. I can appreciate it, often really enjoy it...but my knowledge of it is very limited. Enter my first accidental discovery in jazz on my own: I stroll into the shop, slightly yellow, smelly, dehydrated, sweating out bourbon, armed only with a strong cup of coffee and a pecan danish. I grab the first record I see on the floor, throw it on with little or no thought other than I know I need to play music in a record store. The goal that morning was to avoid simultaneously puking and shitting my pants (I was resigned to one happening, but couldn't bear both). Yet the record wakes me up, wipes the muck away and I'm born anew. Wowza! This Booker Little LP, released on the Time label, is what did it. I sent the owner an email the next day asking about this LP that I dug so much. His reply: "Wow...you've got really good taste. I'm shocked!!!" Me too. "Quartet" is unique because there's no goddamn saxophone, yet it manages to be exceedingly cool, melodic and great. Originals fetch a pretty penny, but I managed to snag a great sounding, really well done LP reissue via eBay for less than $20.

Harvey Mandel - Baby Batter

Look at this fucking record. Like I wasn't gonna throw it on...pffft. Harv, or "The Snake" as he's more commonly known, totally reeks of that 70s guitar hero tag, doing anything from prog to jumpsuit-clad rock suites to finger-tapping jazzbo bullshit. It's all a trip and this LP in particular totally nails it. It's smooth almost to the point of obscenity. Its sound is comparable to how a nude 70s vixen with tan lines looks. That's a ringing endorsement if there ever was one. Local boy too, having done his time with Musselwhite and Canned Heat. FUN FACT: dude was the limbo gunslinger for The Stones in between Taylor and Wood. Imagine the ramifications had he stuck.

Fairport Convention - Leige & Leif

This record absolutely fucking RULES and no, I have not turned into a hobbit. Yet. These guys, and this LP in particular, have to be the absolute pinnacle of British folk rock. Maybe that's not saying much. Think about the genre: foggy mountain villages, drinking mead or some other bullshit, eating berries, skipping, maybe a fuckin' elf or two. I dunno. It's a ridiculous genre, replacing David Crosby's square shades and Whiskey A-G0-Go sit-ins (equally what-the-fuckin'-fuckish, if ya ask me) for renaissance faire mysticism and weird tiny stringed instruments of so-Caucasian-they're-clear origin. There's absolutely NOTHING dangerous or even overtly sexual about this record AT ALL, which calls the actual rock quotient into question here. But I don't care. Sandy Denny's voice is truly something else and the songs have drive that actually seems HEAVY in spite of the sprite. Shocking, really. 4 Men With Beards did a fantastic reissue that oughta be in the $15 neighborhood, but I'm holding out for beat-up original.

Further Palatal Expanders coming in semi-regular fashion. Check these out if'n you have the time.

Back to MRR

2011-03-11T07:22:00.000-08:00

Last month, I started doing record reviews again at MaximumRockNRoll (see link to the right). If you haven't checked out an issue recently, please do so. There's been a lot of turnover in recent years (lots of familiar names now missing from the shitworkers list), but it's still very much MRR. It's also far more interesting to read about bands like Crazy Spirit than it is read about [insert any shitty indie rock pop grunge asshole band], which is a big reason why I have renewed interested in helping the zine when I can.

It's always a treat to walk in there and look through the review bins, taking note of every new piece of punk rock vinyl released that month. Anyway, MRR decided to post one of my reviews on their site this week. Take a look, if you wanna.

Shannon And The Clams - Sleep Talk

2011-03-07T12:49:00.000-08:00

Wrote this little attempt at a one-sheet for 1-2-3-4-Go!, which was ultimately ditched since it was too reviewy, chewy and fooey. The label has since gone with a document that is better suited to promo mailings. THAT SAID, I stand behind the sentiments of this blurb. S&TC were a band who, upon first encountering them, didn't really get me goin'. There were a few times that I thought they were actually pretty BAD. But they worked and refined and toured and eventually got down and got better. "Sleep Talk" is GREAT. Can't wait to hear the fucker on vinyl.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHANNON AND THE CLAMS
“SLEEP TALK”
1-2-3-4-GO! RECORDS

Although every douche out there has given way to championing frumpy, hack assholes as “Thee Next Big Thing”, bands that make a fuckin’ effort will win the goddamn race every time. Shannon And The Clams are a band that not only tries, but goes above and beyond even the loftiest of expectations. Their shows are part jamboree, part séance and part make-out kegger, attracting rockers from essentially every branch of the tree. Their initial recordings proved that they could keep the party going on tape, but Sleep Talk represents a quantum leap: a fully-realized, highly entertaining asskicker of an el-pee. The album pleases on both Crampsian and purist levels, exhibiting a 50/50 split between raunch and sweetness.

If such a thing as formula exists for this band, it’s surely difficult to extrapolate. Part doo-wop soul, a few sweat-dripping nods to R&B and the gut-reaction delivery of any given Back From The Grave 60’s punk troupe...maybe that’s close. As with any band that, I dunno, cares, Ms. Shannon and Her Clammies are road-tested, having stretched beyond beautiful Oakland, California to conduct their disturbing, playful loud-ass masses. The response has been more than favorable, so much so that queer-as-the-day-is-long Hunx tapped Shannon to be a Punkette and Cody Clam to write a few tunes for his diva-making opus, Too Young To Be In Love.

But Sleep Talk is the business at hand. Hearing this LP is getting a peek at this band as they truly are. It’s welcoming, a bit off, a lil’ creepy and a great fuckin’ time. The Clams make a racket the way you wish most other bands would, aggressively arranged for optimum tit-shaking, yet interesting enough to make you marvel. And Shannon’s voice has been apparent from the get-go, sure…but she really does shine here. The purest distillation of this band’s powers can be heard on “I Don’t Want To Be In A Cult No More”, a song whose classic status is interrupted only by the fact that it would’ve ruled 14,000 harder had they called it “I Don’t Wanna Be In No Cult No Mo”. So, for that very reason, it’s resides in the Neo-Classic file. Still, it gives off rays of Rock’n’Roll Ooga Booga that we simply are no longer accustomed to. They aren’t just showing off. They may actually be trying to kill us!!!!

Otherwise, this is a blemish-free, fantastic LP that just about everyone oughta investigate. As a gambling man, I’m just gonna guess that a whole shit-ton of people are gonna be into this…

MITCH CARDWELL
Oakland, CA
February 2011

WINNING

2011-03-01T10:19:00.001-08:00

http://livethesheendream.com/

Porky Prime Cuts

2011-03-01T07:17:00.000-08:00

Gonked Gooped Slurped is a wonderful collector's blog done by a couple that has to rank among Earth's coolest. Valery, a truly classy lady (she once threw a beer can at my head) and her new beau (whom I have never met, but must be A-OK) have detailed their obsession with building their home into a collector's paradise: wall-to-wall fabulousness, colorful and bursting at the seems with incredibly cool shit. As someone who is about to move in with his significant other in 2 weeks, I find their quest pretty inspiring and fun.

One recent entry traded vintage trolls-on-acid figurines for records, offering up a Flickr set of their most prized punkers, lovingly referred to as Porky Prime Cuts. You know the tired joke about stoners rubbing one out to the centerfold in High Times magazine? Well, that's applicable here, only replace stoner with punk rock record collector.

Of the 132 records shown here, I have 4. Life...pffft. I give up.

2010: Termbo Round-Up

2011-02-28T08:46:00.000-08:00

This morning's unveiling of the top picks from some of our little nook's greatest minds really has me thinkin'. Looks like the end of psuedo-alternative pussy pop's infiltration into the punko nerd underground. I don't necessarily find a whole lot to shout about when it comes to the majority of what is championed here, but it's all a hell of a lot better than an endless array of frumpie fuckface singalong bullshit. Kitty cats are the new girl-on-a-hot-rod cliche. At least Termbo, based on these lists, is aiming to distance themselves from it.

As best as I can muster with 5 minutes to live...here's my 2010:

1) Wounded Lion and Tyvek. WL is a band that makes Rock'n'Roll smart and joyous again...no small feat considering the muck you hear with each record store jaunt. Their S/T debut LP is abrasive and playful simultaneously. Tyvek's true DIY punk rock is something that's legitimately important and GREAT. They've knocked it outta the park before, but never with as much fucking gusto as they have on "Nothing Fits".

2) When new music starts to become less-than-stellar, reissue quality really ramps up. See the releases by 1977 Records, Last Laugh and Sing Sing. Simple, perfect, classic punk rock 7" reissues. See also SS Records A-Frames and Ozzie jumbo packs. FURTHERFUCKINGMORE, see the bevy of Ohio old creepo excavations by Mike Rep, Tommy Jay, Ron House, Nudge Squidfish and Jim Shepard.

3) Aussie lovefest: ECSR, Boomgates, Chinese Burns (their 1-sided 45 is my pick for single of the year), The UV Race, Total Control, Bits Of Shit, The Unfuckable and a few others.

4) American Punk Rock: Outdoorsmen, Wild Thing, Burnin' Itch, Secret Prostitues, Useless Eaters, Crazy Spirit, a scant few others.

5) Euro's pounding best: Banque Allemande, Baddat For Trubbel, Peripherique Est, Masshysteri, Cola Freaks, Moralens Vaktare.

Everything else sucked.

TONIGHT!

2011-02-25T08:41:00.000-08:00

To those "provocative" young'uns surrounding me who claim that "Politicians In My Eyes" wouldn't matter at all if it were made by white dudes, I bend over and show you thee full moon. Black, white, red, blue, whatever: if you've got a pulse and a love of great Rock'n'Roll, DEATH oughta scratch that itch. Sure, it's an interesting story...but their music actually walks the walk. Shit, scratch that: they started jogging in '74!

I'm going to see them tonight in San Francisco with an open mind. I'm not expecting greatness, but hoping for a couple great moments. If one of them is wearing a homemade iron-on DEATH t-shirt, that'll be enough for me.

Go, Go, Go...LITTLE QUEENIE

2011-02-24T09:14:00.000-08:00

Little Queenie "It's My Life" from JetLag RocknRoll on Vimeo.

While I'm more than happy to let the above clip speak for itself, I must tell you that I think Oakland, California's LITTLE QUEENIE is, in fact, thee shit. Yeah, yeah...they're all buddies of mine. Yeah, yeah...they've all been in bands of some acclaim. BUT, together, they really are ruling it. Sinister, thuggy, perfect. Can't wait for them to make a record.

Don't Mind If I Do!

2011-02-24T07:08:00.000-08:00

2011's cold and flu season has been one giant, gobby physical fuck-u...an irritant of equal severity to the smug, greying dipshit co-worker gawk'n'bitch. I'm battling both right now and would love nothing more than to eradicate them both with my flame-thrower cock. That's right...I'm feelin' pretty fucking TUFF lately.

This fuggin' thing has me frantically checking my mailbox at the end of every tired, snot-soaked commuting day. After far too long of a detour, I find myself returning to truly aggressive, thuggish Rock'n'Roll. Couple that with an incredibly scummy, how-quick-is-your-trigger-finger small press pedigree and this comp is the stuff that dreams are made of. Just look at the fucking thing!!! How could it be anything other than brilliant??? "Heavy Bonehead" has to be the best genre classification I've heard since "Titty Shaker" too.

I'll report more when it lands, but do yo'self a favor and take the spin through the short preview this blog post provides. It's as if you woke up next to Stacia.

Um...whoa.

2011-02-14T14:30:00.000-08:00

This article is totally fuckin' ridiculous. While the principles of Scientology might not be any more shocking that pedophile priests or bigamy or any other religious/cultish mumbo-jumbo, this whole tale is still pretty fucking burly. AND INTERESTING AS HELL.

Cometbus #54

2011-02-07T07:19:00.000-08:00

Having been familiar with this fanzine for roughly 20 years now, I find myself looking forward to each new issue with heightened expectations. In the last, I dunno, 3 - 5 years, the quality of Cometbus' writing has gone up drastically, and In China With Green Day has him outdoing himself once again.

Just as he did with issue #51 (The Loneliness of the Electric Menorah, easily the best work I've read by ANYONE in a long while), Cometbus takes subjects of immense importance to the East Bay (punk and otherwise), dons his particular cultural anthropology scrubs and digs in. While #51 focused on Telegraph Avenue, #54 tackles Green Day, a subject not uncommon in his zine, but one that's never been examined with the depth and care that its done here. Perhaps it's a bit of a strech to ask many of my current "associates" to take note of anything having to do with Green Day or East Bay Punk or even personal fanzines, but...WHATEVER. This is just excellent writing, interesting subject matter and well worth reading, regardless of your view of the band in question.

Cometbus and the Green Day guys share a friendship of roughly 20 years, a friendship that began with Cometbus driving them around the US, showing them the DIY punk touring ropes. That gave way to Green Day essentially becoming King Shits of Rock'n'Roll, ultimately one of the biggest bands on the planet and about as far removed from generator shows and squat living as you can get. The abandanment of DIY punk, the motivations for making such business-minded moves, the backlash, the precieved betrayals are all mentioned here, but HOW they are addressed is where the true value is.

This isn't so much an examination of the band or punk as it is the examination of how friendships mutate...and how great friendships survive and adapt to those mutations. How much do punk ethics and the politics of "selling out" matter when it comes to being buddies? Ultimately, what's more important? With careful consideration and thought, all the controversial aspects of the band's success are addressed with the benefit of time passing or dust settling. Cometbus is hyper-critical of the Rock'n'Roll Lifestyle and associated business aspects the band has immersed themselves in, but overjoyed to see his friends happy and to share new experiences in new locales with them. It's both brutally honest and sticky-sweet sentimental, key aspects in his writing that used to piss me off, but now strangely what I find myself looking for.

Just an excellent read...I devoured it yesterday and will probably do it again this week. At $4, you really can't miss either.

SS10

2011-02-01T07:25:00.000-08:00

Scott Soriano, hairy little guy and SS Records honcho, has finally unveiled his plan for his label's 10-year anniversary celebration. It's gonna be a real corker: a weekend of Rock'n'Roll with his highly regarded stamp of approval. SS is one of the rare, top-tier labels of recent vintage, in a league with a select few who focus on releasing varied, exceptional Rock'n'Roll that's never quite in step with current trends or patterns. Take a look at some of the bands that the label has introduced over the years and you'll just how much this label matters in the grand scheme of things.

The blueprint for the celebration is as follows:
Friday, May 20
A Frames (The label's marquee act and one of the best bands in the world)
Cheveu (Frenchies mixing electronics with great guitar riffing...WEIRD)
Hank IV (San Francisco's kings of men and future Mt. Rushmore faces)
Charles Albright (Eccentric Sacramento Rocker / Math genius)
w/ dj Mitch Cardwell (that's me!)
@ Bottom of the Hill, 8:30 PM

Saturday, May 21
feedtime (FIRST US SHOW EVER for these famed Aussie tough guys)
Lamps (L.A. neg-vibe trio doin' a lil' glass-chewing punk)
Nothing People (Glam + Psych = Nothing People's ROCK)
Wounded Lion (Surrender To The Rhythm, chief)
w/ dj Ryan Wells (MRR/Z-Gun scribe and SS's right hand "man")
@ Bottom of the Hill, 8:30 PM

Sunday, May 22
The Mantles (SF's premiere pop outfit...simply fantastic!)
Nar (Loved this band since age 15...BRILLIANT!!!!)
Lens (Ex-CUTS take an ice-trip through UK + Germany, circa '75)
+ record swap (Is anything better than drinking beer whilst digging?)
@ Hemlock Tavern, 4 PM Swap, 6 PM Show

I'm looking forward to this...

Cream Of The Crop: Punk Rock In 2011

2011-01-25T08:02:00.000-08:00

These are the bands I am looking toward to make 2011 a "tits" year.

USELESS EATERS
A handful of great singles (Goodbye Boozy, Goner, Shattered, Mastermind, Jeth-Row) from recent years are going to be collected on LP via the kind folk at Tic Tac Totally. That said, old news...gimme the new goods. Here's an excellent start: NASHVILLE'S DEAD 7". Been at it a few years now, though I'd wager this is where things begin to heat up.

BADDATT FOR TRUBBEL
Truly masterful Euro 70s punk sounds with a hearty helping of amphetamine R&B moves. Think Flyin' Spiderz, Eddie And The Hot Rods (Lew Lewis era), Problem, Dynamite Records...juuust punk enough to please trads, but rooted in Rock Und Roll. The kind of band worthy of obsession, which is where I'm at with them right now. Stop at NOTHING to secure a copy of their debut LP, their lone offering thus far. It has a saxaphone on it and it's STILL the best Euro punk LP in recent memory. My new favorite band.

CHINESE BURNS and BOOMGATES
Australia is obviously a buzz-bin right now: ECSR, THE UV RACE, OOGA BOOGAS, TOTAL CONTROL, KITCHEN'S FLOOR, CIRCLE PIT etc etc etc. While I have a whole lotta love for these "established" bands, two newbies really impressed this year. BOOMGATES are probably destined for greatness: the singer of ECSR goes a wee bit pop and comes out victorious. CHINESE BURNS lone vinyl offering in 2010 charted as my favorite single of the year...and it's a one-sided, one-song effort. "Rohypnol" is a streched-out punk rock number that's tense, buzzy and perhaps a tad inappropriate. I absolutely love both of these bands and await their next offerings ever-so-patiently.

BURNING ITCH
Over the last 10 or so years, there have been a scant few singles that possess that KBD crave factor, both in terms of sound AND the look and feel of the release. I point you toward the debut FINAL SOLUTIONS 7" on Therapeutic, both 7"EPs by NIX, the elusive first single by THE SPITS and, you guessed it, Burning Itch's debut 7"EP. Outta-nowhere (Nashville!) punk rock greatness. I'm not entirely sure that lightning can strike twice, but I will pony up for whatever they unleash in 2011.

Am I forgetting anyone?

Jay Reatard

2011-01-13T13:16:00.000-08:00

Today marks the one year anniversary of Jay's untimely death, and like virtually everyone else with a keyboard and a copy of "Blood Visions", I feel compelled to call attention to the guy.

To get right to the point, Jay had a hand in making some of the best punk rock records of the past 15 or so years. If you haven't had the chance to investigate his work beyond "Jay Reatard", it appears you'll have the chance to do so at many opportunities throughout 2011's (seemingly massive) reissue campaign. Please do. The Reatards, The Lost Sounds, The Final Solutions, Nervous Patterns, Terror Visions, Destruction Unit, C.C Riders, The Oscars, Angry Angles...it's all well worth seeking out.

The last time I had any contact with Jay was via Facebook...which sucks. Anyway, I was farting around and a chat window popped up from Jay. The message read, simply, "fag", which seems to be how he'd come to address me over the years (either that or "nerd"). I took the bait and we started talking. He talked about the recent tour he finished, getting to play with Nobunny and Hunx And His Punx and the general whirlwind he was in. In typical Jay fashion, he sent me a video of two guys I knew sucking eachother's dicks. Obviously he was amused and he instructed me to pass it along to mutual friends in an effort to "make Oakland burn" or something along those lines. I didn't, thankfully.

At the end of our conversation, he requested that me and the usual gang head out to his show next time he was in SF. He said he felt too weird playing there without seeing the familiar faces (the truth is that all of us were there the whole time, but got lost in what was now a huge crowd in a huge room). I agreed I'd be there. Around 6 weeks later, he passed away.

All the talk of his antics and partying doesn't change the fact that we're all missing out on the records he still could be making. The guy really made his mark and a lot of those records sound as good today as they ever have. Shit is just far less interesting without him around. At least all of those records, shows, and stories are around to serve as great reminders.

Icky Boyfriends - 2010 Reunion @ Budget Rock 9

2011-01-12T10:30:00.000-08:00

I recently finished a lil' zine article on THE ICKY BOYFRIENDS for Negative Guest List, a fantastic Australian fanzine. Give it a look if you dare/care...

___________________________________________________________________

IT’S FRANK’S WORLD, THE REST OF US JUST LIVE IN IT: ICKY BOYFRIENDS REUNITE IN 2010

My fixation with The Icky Boyfriends predates my involvement in Budget Rock by roughly 14 years. No real mystery here: they’re my favorite band ever. At the outset of each new Budget Rock year, when the organizers meets to discuss potential bands, the first band I would submit for consideration would be The Icky Boyfriends. Much to my surprise (life as an Ickys fan can often mean forced isolation or ostracizing), that idea was never immediately shot down. Unfortunately, in that cluster of years(2006 - 2009), an Ickys reunionnever came to be. The timing just wasn’t right on either end. For Budget Rock 2010, I was left holding the reins by festival honcho turned new dad, Chris Owen (Hook Or Crook Records, Killer’s Kiss), and could (finally) devote significant attention to playing a tiny role in making an Ickys reunion a reality.

The first point of contact for anything Icky Boyfriends related is obviously Anthony Bedard, Ickys drummer and current SF panic-rock maestro behind Hank IV. My creepy-yet-endearing Ickys fandom ensured that Tony B and I would get along swimmingly when we first met a few years back. Since then, we’ve become great friends, thanks in large part to his ability to tolerate my constant nagging for Ickys-related trivia. Anyway, as soon as the words “reunion” and “Budget Rock” were mentioned, Tony’s mug shifted into deep thought mode. He looked up at an angle, was silent for a sec and then cracked a knowing, “are-you-fucking-kidding-me?” smile. We’d joked about the possibility several times prior to this, but when the question was posed seriously, without a fog of Fernet Branca getting in the way, I think he was taken aback. In principle, he agreed to present the idea to Shea Bond, Icky Boyfriends guitarist/bassist. Word came back quickly that Shea was into it…in theory. All of this reunion chatter was all totally meaningless without Jon Swift’s interest. To borrow one of their song titles: No Duh.

What ever became of Mr. Swift, post-Ickys? This very fanzine was even under the impression that he was dead when NGL ran their piece on the band a year or so back. Fear not: Jon Swift has called Baltimore, Maryland his home for the past 15 years, working in a branch of the Baltimore Public Library and directing his unique gaze and even more unique disdain at corruption-encrusted Washington, DC…and, fittingly, everyplace else. By all accounts, Jon was fed up with all of San Francisco’s trappings, including The Icky Boyfriends. He skipped town for less gentrified pastures and never looked back.

For all three members of the band, time passed, life changed and grudges hardened. Band relations were sporadic and strained at very best. The three Icky Boyfriends had only discussed the band twice since calling it quits, both times to iron out liners for the (absolutely essential) unreleased rarities LP (“Talking To You Is Just Like Being Dead”) and career-spanning 2xCD collection (“A Love Obscene”), both lovingly released by Menlo Park Recordings.Obviously, these discussions breathed new life into dormant tensions and both Tony and Shea had not hadany real conversations with Jon since. Tony even warned me that any attempt to discuss the band with Jon could feasibly be met with incredible anger. Given this advisory tidbit, naturally, I made my girlfriend get ahold of Jon.

Shamefully, this was done via Facebook. I know, I know. HOW THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO LIVE IN A WORLD WHERE JONATHAN SWIFT, ROCK’N’ROLL SOOTH-SAYER OF UGLY TRUTH AND A MAN POSESSING OFF-THE-CHARTS LEVELS OF GENIUS, IS ON FACEBOOK??? Shouldn’t he be making proclamations of assholery upon SUV-driving, goateed fuckwads whilst perched on some urban street corner? Shouldn’t he be too busy wearing a crown made of burrito foil while his giant, low-hanging testicles-of-steel kick up sparks on the gum-stained concrete? Shouldn’t he simply be too goddamn pissed to join a (ahem) social network??? Apparently not.

Dulce had the lingering Ickys fixation as well, except with the added benefit of being able to taunt me with countless stories of Icky Boyfriends’ live glory that she witnessed at long-forgotten SF dives such as The Purple Onion, The Chameleon and The 6th Street Rendezvous.So they pulled the whole friend request gaggle and shit was officially ON. I feel comfortable in stating that Jon was equally flattered and perplexed by the concept of an independent party asking about a reunion gig. It had to have been weird to someone like Jon, with that distinct air of anti-hero, to suddenly be in the position to dictate the terms of his requested return to the rock fold.

Perhaps needless to say, the email exchanges with Jon that followed were biblical and simply INCREDIBLE. Having completely exhausted Tony B’s side of the Ickys saga, I can’t possibly convey how revelatory Jon’s tales were to an obsessive fan like me.Budget Rock essentially became an afterthought when it came to tales of recording or record-stuffing shindigs at Blackjack HQ.I even got to witness the single greatest thing I’ve ever encountered on Facebook: a comment-war between Jon Icky and Elka Zolot, garage goddess from The Trashwomen. Talk about Beauty and The Fuckin’ Beast! But yeah…Screw the festival. Jon was just an absolute pleasure to talk to. I’d bring Budget Rock up in passing and he’d mull it over, voicing his concerns about returning to SF for the first time or his deteriorating relationship with the other guys, at least at that point in time (early 2010). And, obviously, his fear that they would suck. But almost nonchalantly in one of our random weekly email exchanges, he just simply agreed to come out and play. “Yeah, fuck it. I’m in. Could be fun.”He had a handle on what this was all about, could tell it was coming from a good place and decided to give it a fucking go. I was given marching orders to let Shea and Tony B. know that Mr. Swift was IN.

Tony and Shea wasted absolutely no time. In fact, I’d reckon they both had wanted something like this to happen for quite a while prior to Budget Rock. Within a few days of Jon’s confirmation and getting the lines of contact re-established amongst the members (April/May 2010), the two SF Ickys met up and held their first band practice is roughly 15 years. I suppose these practices really could be deemed official, even given Jon’s absence, since his punctuality (or even appearance!) for band practice was never one of his strong suits, I’m told. Reports from Tony were issued after every session: “It feels great to pound the fucking drums again” OR “Shea is getting back into heavy strum mode”. Yup: Shea hadn’t picked up a bass or guitar (at least in a ROCK fashion) since the demise of The Icky Boyfriends, concentrating his efforts on strumming the ukulele in his living room (he’s quite good at it, I’m told). This really was gonna happen. Jon just needed a plane ticket.

I’d routinely check in with Jon about the festival’s progress, relaying Tony and Shea’s enthusiasm over the upcoming event. Each attempt to discuss festival logistics was derailed by us getting into some fabled Ickyism and obvious obsession with what was being laid down. At each point, mustering the strength to steer our course, I’d ask Jon if he needed any help with airfare, to which he’d always reply that he had it covered. This went on for weeks and Tony and Shea soon grew nervous. When I offered, on behalf of Budget Rock, to purchase Jon’s plane ticket, he immediately agreed. “This is like some secret rock star fantasy I didn’t even know I had!” He also requested that I locate Bill Graham’s ashes and place them at the foot of the stage for him to pounce on while they played. Unfortunately, this is the one aspect of their rider I was unable to make good on.

Jon was to fly in and spend a week in SF, arriving a couple days before the gig and splitting a couple days after. The day before the festival was to begin, 10/20/10, was Swift’s arrival date, which coincided with a special 3-hour radio show devoted to the festival courtesy of SF college radio station KUSF. Tony B. wowed the audience with tales of Icky disgust and worked the phones magically. Danny Plotnick, director of the classic Icky film “I’m Not Fascinating: The Movie” even dropped by to join in on the fun. Immediately after the show ended, I walked out on to the campus and saw Jon lumbering up path to KUSF. I’d never met him in person, hadn’t seen a recent photograph of him, but the man walking toward me could ONLY be him. Afro greying, carry-on bags clutched to his chest, winded and curious. “Jon?”I asked, pointing/waving.“Uh, um, yeah... Hey.”

Carolyn Keddy, our KUSF host and Budget Rock co-organizer of supreme importance and intelligence, came out at this moment, providing Jon with a familiar, long-lost face to get reacquainted with. I immediately suggested that the three of us head to The Mission to grab lunch, a burrito, specifically. It seemed not only appropriate, but required. Jon hopped in my car and we made our way to Taqueria Cancun on Mission, between 18th and 19th. I had a CD of The Last’s “L.A. Explosion” in my car stereo and as soon as it came on it practically stopped Jon in his tracks. “The Last…hmmm. I love this LP.” And then he sang along every song, as only Jon can, while I drove him to lunch. MAGICAL, dare I say. When we drove down 16th, a street mentioned more than once in The Icky Boyfriends repertoire, he sort of mumbled “Hasn’t changed much…” under his breath. I still don’t know if he was being serious OR flabbergasted by just how different it was. Oh…his choice of burrito? A grilled shrimp super burrito…not what I expected at all.

After lunch, we made our way to the beach and got beers at The Riptide, a pretty non-descript watering hole fairly close to Shea’s place. SF was in full fever with The San Francisco Giants in the playoffs…something Jon noticed immediately (it was unavoidable, really) and was severely unimpressed by. If he could’ve timed his visit to coincide with the death of all major SF sports franchises, he probably would have. It was at The Riptide where I think it truly hit him that he was back in SF. “There’s a baseball game on TV and X-Ray Spex is playing on the jukebox. This would NOT happen in Baltimore!”

Jon would spend most of his SF nights in the company of Shea Bond, at his family home in SF’s Outer Sunset. Prior to all this reunion hoopla, I had only met Shea once, very briefly at Budget Rock 2009. In getting to speak to him about Icky Boyfriends and the reunion, I found his attitude and approach to the whole thing really refreshing. Shea genuinely wanted to do this again, have fun with it and see what the reaction would be like all these years later. Shea’s daughter, who I also had the pleasure of meeting, didn’t exactly share this glow. This adolescent girl wasn’t exactly keen on hearing about dear old (dorky) dad play in his awful rock band again. She was not a fan of Icky Boyfriends and the yuck-face she made at their mere mention proved this without a shadow of a doubt. She even appeared to be mad at me for facilitating such a humiliating event for her and her family. I told her the band was great and everyone would love it, which was dismissed with a hair-flick and an eye-roll before I could even finish assuring her. She had a look of pure horror, disgust and embarrassment. This look produced a big grin on Shea’s mug…just as I’m sure similar looks he got during The Ickys heyday did.

The band had two complete rehearsals before the show, which was the marquee night of the festival: OBLIVIANS, ICKY BOYFRIENDS, WOUNDED LION and WILD THING. Not too fucking shabby, if ya ask me. Tony’s preliminary report is pure gold: “It’s coming together exactly how it should: we don’t sound too good and we don’t sound too bad!” From an organizer standpoint, these festivals tend to be a blur, but when it came to both Oblivians and Icky Boyfriends together on the same night, one’s attention couldn’t help but be drawn to it. I made a point to drop by for soundcheck and caught Oblivians rumbling through some killer shit. Fetching Jack Oblivian a spittoon at this sound-check ranks as one of my greatest achievements thus far. While Oblivians were running through some songs, I noticed Jon at the bar and went over. Obviously the concept of Icky Boyfriends sound-checking was foreign and completely useless in his eyes, so I dragged him to the Budget Rock show down the street at Thee Parkside to let him scope the scene. We made our way back shortly before the doors opened at Bottom Of The Hill.

I made my way into the bar just as The San Francisco Giants secured their spot in the World Series. The entire crowd was just fucking beaming. As a band, it has to be a good sign when the entire crowd is grinning ear to ear and celebrating before a note is even played. Wild Thing began the evening with some smart-ass comments coupled with a smattering of fantastic songs. I implore any punk fan to seek out their 2 singles, as they are representative of the best punk rock coming out of San Francisco at this moment. Next up was Wounded Lion, easily one of the best bands in the US right now. In my talks with Jon, I mentioned that this new band from Los Angeles was covering “I Was…” and pretty much dominating it live. After he calmed down about Wounded Lion’s oversight in neglecting to pay him performance royalties for their unauthorized cover, he mentioned he was eager to see them. A pre-show pow-wow between the two bands resulted in Icky Boyfriends requesting to hear Wounded Lion perform their cover of “I Was…”, which is both an honor and a very tall order. Wounded Lion pulled it off and then some though, playing what had to have been their greatest set thus far. So great.

Following Wounded Lion’s set, Tony and Shea hauled their asses onto the stage and make sure everything’s kosher. Dulcinea and I began running drinks to the stage to ensure the band has everything they needed. Finally, on 10/23/10, all three Icky Boyfriends hit the stage, followed by our lovely Carolyn Keddy, who served as MC for the evening. Introducing a band like Icky Boyfriends to their hometown audience is quite a task, especially a band as polarizing and fucking bonkers as Icky Boyfriends. But Carolyn summed things up as only a true Ickys super-fan could: “Please welcome the quintessential San Francisco band, The Icky Boyfriends!!!” And, perhaps shockingly, there were wild amounts of applause. I was on the verge of collapse at this point.

Jon grabs the set list, brings it about half an inch away from his eyes and throws it on the ground, a gesture that would be repeated after every song. “SHE WAS JUST A LITTLE GIRL!!! FROM CALIFORNIA!!!” That voice. It was still there. Blood-curdling, disgusted, smarmy, unimpressed, impossible to ignore…perfect! Tony and Shea come crashing in and it’s just shocking. What I imagined, but better. Opening with “Miss Nevada”, a truly creepy, unnerving song and the entire crowd is in the palm of their hand already. Fucking beautiful.

I had not seen Tony play drums since his time in The Resineaters, but nothing prepared me for the wildman he became on stage with the Ickys. His drumming was just fucking furious and POWERFUL. I had always imagined Icky Boyfriends as a completely fall-apart mess of a band live, and at times, I’m sure they were. But Tony hit with the purpose and precision of a completely fucking dominant hardcore drummer. It was shocking, really. Shea, on guitar for the first portion of the set, sounded absolutely perfect, replicating the distinct sound of the records with ease. The guitar sound on those recordings has always sounded so unique to me and I foolishly wondered what the deal was. The fact of the matter is the guitar sound has everything to do with Shea’s guitar, this sort of cannibalized hollow-body that seems unremarkable but gives off this incredible sound. It was a secret weapon, revealed at last.

By the time they got to “Ecophobia”, their third tune of the night, my eyes filled with tears (I’m unashamed to admit this and fuck you if you can’t relate.) Then they played “Nervous Guy”, which has to be as close to a crowd-pleasing anthem as they’ve got. The amount of shrieking that the opening notes provoked was startling. For a long while, I operated under the assumption that women would be completely repulsed by this band. That definitely was not the case here. Icky Boyfriends: panty droppers. Who knew?

The set progressed and song after song, my smile grew. Shea switching to bass and kicking things off with “Pigs”??? Does Rock’n’Roll get better than those mere 14 seconds? Nope, not really. The crowd was on board too. Chants of “Sex Trash” were issued from the crowd off of stage right, to which Jon would merely smirk and offer a quick retort. Jon’s quips were infrequent, though he did manage to voice his severe disdain for the bullshit sports fog that had clouded his return to SF, offering a biting, sarcastic “congrats” to the San Francisco Giants. This public fuck-you got more than a few folks angered, even provoking one drunk Giants fan to punch the wall of the club and threaten violence on Jon at the set’s conclusion. Jon, naturally, also had some choice words for the event’s corporate sponsor, Pabst Blue Ribbon. It was at this point that Ryan Wells, Z-Gun editor and long-time SF punk devotee, got me in a headlock and issued his official decree of the evening: “THAT is the real Icky Boyfriends right there! That hate! That searing from Jon! That’s what it was like in 1993…you just saw it for real!”

They closed their set with a modern day reinterpretation of “Pay-N-Pak”, Jon’s exorcism, his one no-holds-barred vocalization of the minute, ridiculous soul-sucking annoyances he fixated on during his Ickys life. But where were Pay-N-Pak and Tower Records to be found in 2010? Gone…long gone, even. Fear not: Jon took aim at SF mayor Gavin Newsome, The San Francisco Giants and (hysterically) Jello Biafra, who just happened to be in attendance and elated at being recognized as valid (even if with scorn) in 2010. He bought Ickys merch afterwards. He even bought a Wild Thing 7”! Poor sap…

And after a short encore, that was it. Icky Boyfriends returned and conquered with a ferocity even their most die-hard fans never would’ve expected. After the set, I saw a sweaty, beaming Tony B. at the bar and grabbed his face and thanked him. I showered similar praise on Shea and Jon. And then The Oblivians blew the holy hell out of everyone’s brains. But that’s another article all together. A show for the fucking ages, no doubt about it.

It should be mentioned that John Dwyer of Thee Oh Sees, a massive Icky Boyfriends fan in his own right, recorded their set at Budget Rock. I’ve reached out to him to score a copy, but haven’t yet been able to hear it. Is it possible that we could see an Icky Boyfriends live LP issued on his Castle Face label? God, I fucking hope so.

Jon blasted off back to Baltimore two days after the show. I’ve reached out a few times in the past couple months and he’s confirmed that this was a great experience for him, which really makes me thankful. I haven’t circled back with Shea yet, but I trust his daughter has finally been able to wipe the reunion from her mind. Tony B. is ruling it with Hank IV, SF’s best pound-for-pound. Their latest LP, “III”, ranks among 2010’s very best records.

I shot Jon a note about writing this article and asked if he had any words for Australia or anyone else reading this. “Tell the Aussies that I hope we’re able to tour down there one day.” So that part of the logistics is solved, Australia: Jon Swift is in.

___________________________________________________________________

Thanks to Tony B., Shea and Jon for trusting me enough to write this. And to Brendon from Negative Guest List for his patience and interest in all things Icky.

Let's Get Hurt

2011-01-05T10:20:00.000-08:00

Hi.
My name is Mitch Cardwell.
I am 32 years old and I live in Oakland, CA.

If you're an idiot, you've possibly skimmed my writing whilst pinching a loaf in the following zines: MRR, Z-Gun, City Rocker, Horizontal Action, Boom-Boom Digest, Negative Guest List, Gearhead, Razorcake, Hit List and AMP. I've also been involved in varying degrees with Terminal Boredom and Blank Generation, internet outposts for punk rock record obsession. Fun ways to waste a decade, I'd say.

I sometimes release records via these hobby labels: Raw Deluxe Records, Pigs and G.O.O.C Entertainment. Select shite courtesy of Henry Fiat's Open Sore, Battleship, The Carbonas, The Pets, The Intelligence, Photobooth, Midnite Snaxxx, Personal And The Pizzas and Druid Perfume (Icki Murrmann did this last one, though he allows me to claim 0.004% credit, which is an overestimate).

You'll soon find this outpost chock full of worthless bullshit and clutter. Visit sporadically only if you're hopeless.

Welcome. I'm sorry.