You are No. 1

Quite some time ago, we attempted to introduce you to the all-female Japanese hardcore steamroller known as the Gaia. You can read what I have to say about them there, or you can check out their best record here. You will probably do neither; in which case your failure at life will be complete. Don’t say we didn’t try to help.

Consolidation

You think your hometown hardcore scene sucked in the 1990s, eh? Somehow, I would be willing to bet that your town was a veritable paradise compared to the bullshit burgh of Bradford, England. The bands documented on this compilation came out of a small hardcore scene that gathered around the 1 in 12 Club, which I believe was run under the same semi-anarcho/syndicalist principles that drove Gilman Street and ABC No Rio. Each band resides under the ‘90s hardcore banner while bringing something of their own to the table. Voorhees is the one band that most of you are familiar with in some capacity. “Pressure” sounds a bit generic to these ears now, but it was a favorite of mine earlier in life for its lyrical content. Naturally, this song is a perfect start to the compilation. Kito gets gruff while Stand Off probably had some Go! and Half Off records in their collections. Their song “Growing Concern” was another one that I always enjoyed. Nailbomb is decidedly not the band that I think is related to Sepultura, but they are one of the more metallic bands on this comp. Ironside continues to keep it on a heavy/mosh tip, but Submission brings a faster pace and an anarcho vibe. A more emotive sound emanates from the grooves as Understand takes a “Poll” to end this record on a high note. Out of these seven bands, they are probably the most technically interesting.

It is entirely possible that my enjoyment of Consolidated is a product of my need to catch up with contemporary hardcore when I was younger. Those of you who are of the “hardcore sucked in the ‘90s” opinion should probably avoid it. However, others disagree and would appreciate some of what was going on in Northern England nearly twenty years ago. Don’t be a douchebag. At least give the Voorhees song a chance.

Consolidate.

God Hates Baptists

One of our earliest posts was about Scurvy Dogs, so feel free to go read up on what we had to say about their tenure in the Bay Area punk scene and come back if you want to. The rest of you can check out their debut seven-inch, which is their best material to these ears. Unfortunately, this record didn’t get around as much as it should have. These six songs are more varied in their approach, with more catchy and danceable moments than your average hardcore band. Songs like “God Hates Baptists” and “Procrastination is the Mother of Invention, Cynicism is the Bastard of Progress” should have inspired wild circle pits and old school creepy-crawling to ensue, but they had stopped playing every song on this record by the time a lot of people caught up. Subsequent Scurvy Dogs recordings concentrated more on straightforward hardcore punk at a consistently driving pace. They continued to be one of my favorite local bands, but I still felt that they could have been even better had they retained the variation that was previously in their songwriting arsenal. I always come back to this record for that reason.

When (if) the story is told, it’s likely that Scurvy Dogs would be remembered as one of the more underrated bands during the Bay Area’s “hardcore resurrection” period. Even when heads had turned in their direction, it never seemed like they got the same respect as others that had not worked as hard…or for as long. May you see the error of your ways here.

Demo Alert: Replica

I am afraid that these new demo posts are in danger of becoming repetitive what with my attempts to figure out different ways of saying “another new band that is helping restore my enthusiasm for the local punk scene.” The fact of the matter is that virtually every demo we have posted over nearly a year evokes that reaction in me, redundancy be damned. My interest in the up-and-comers of the Bay Area was waning for a few years, so I am pleased that this has changed. Replica certainly falls under that category. No Statik’s drummer B teams up with three of the tiniest women in the Bay Area hardcore scene to make a noise that is anything but small in stature. One of those women is ex-Duck and Cover vocalist Dharma Mooney, who adds a snotty persona to these songs that is appreciated. Her sarcastic laugh in “Sandy Bottoms” is one of those little things that goes a long way towards making a song more interesting to listen to. Replica appears to have an array of musical influences to where I would probably laugh my ass off at some twentysomething know-it-all trying to describe them to me. Do not bother, for this is simply good hardcore at the end of the day. The uptight crybater brigade will probably fall in love with them for all the wrong reasons, but one can hope that will not deter the rest of us from following Replica’s progress. 

Replica!

Here Comes the Judge

Dewey “Pigmeat” Markham deserves a place in your record collection alongside the likes of Rudy Ray Moore and Blowfly, although it should be noted that his sense of humor was far less risqué. He began appearing in minstrel shows as a teenager in 1918 and had the dubious distinction of being the final holdout from the blackface era, applying the burnt cork to his skin until 1943. His refusal to shed the blackface did NOT sit well with various black advancement groups, who saw him as an Uncle Tom who dredged up unpleasant memories. Pigmeat brought his “here come da judge” routine to television via Ed Sullivan, who had witnessed his act at the Apollo Theater several times. Viewers may still remember His Honor whacking defendants over the head with beef bladders on Sullivan’s show, or maybe they recall his appearances on Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In. During his time on Laugh-In, Pigmeat introduced the “sock it to me!” and “you can put that in your Funk and Wagnall’s” catch phrases to American pop culture. There is definitely much more to the Pigmeat Markham saga, but that information is easy to come by these days. 

By the time his Here Comes the Judge album was released on renowned R&B label Chess Records in 1968, Pigmeat Markham was in his mid-sixties and definitely in the twilight of his career. Some would probably say that his career should have been over long before the late ‘60s, but Pigmeat’s run on Laugh-In afforded him a brief opportunity to reintroduce himself to a new generation before finally passing the torch. This 45-RPM single features the title track backed with a skit called “The Trial.” “Here Comes the Judge” is a funky musical number that essentially introduces you to Pigmeat’s character. One by one, the judge plans to restore justice everywhere in the world, even speaking to Ho Chi Minh about clearing up that whole Vietnam War situation. Now that everybody knows that he is the judge, it is time to enter the courtroom for “The Trial.” I do not want to spoil the outcome because I hope you are open-minded enough to give this a listen, but hilarity ensues when Judge Markham presides over a nudist case. 

I imagine that there are plenty of people out there whose self-ingrained sense of ‘political correctness’ prevents them from enjoying someone like Pigmeat Markham. Although it is true that his sense of humor is well worn and lowbrow at best, Pigmeat Markham does not reinforce black stereotypes any more than Richard Pryor, the Wayans brothers, Chris Rock, or Dave Chappelle did. If anything, it might say something about your willingness to accept stereotypes as face value. Lighten up and learn to laugh at yourself and others. Perhaps then you will begin to take steps to overcome the internal prejudice handed down to you from previous generations. 

Get high as a Georgia pine here.

Demo Alert: Proto Regime

Proto Regime may be brand new to the Bay Area, but their present already indicates a future so bright that sunglasses are required. Keep in mind that I may be biased since I was a big fan of their vocalist Johnny’s previous band Suburban Death Camp. Suffice to say, I am excited to see him back in action. Proto Regime is similar to Suburban Death Camp in that Johnny is fronting another band with musicians that are substantially younger than he is. Not that the age difference matters in the slightest, but perhaps you dig the idea of the generations interacting. They take up where that band left off by delivering quick-paced thrashy hardcore, but Proto Regime plays with considerably more power to their craft. Crossover fans will dig the metallic overtones. Hardcore punks will level Burnt Ramen going mental to the speed. You will get evicted from your domicile for playing Proto Regime’s demo loud enough for Occupy protesters worldwide to adopt “Apathy and Destruction” as their new anthem. Storm the barricades here.

NWA & the Posse

NWA & the Posse is not so much the first NWA album than it is a compilation that they happen to be part of. The Niggaz only contribute three of their own songs, while most of the other tracks are taken up by Eazy E’s solo raps and another group called the Fila Fresh Crew. You are probably familiar with the NWA tracks, as they were later used on Straight Outta Compton, but perhaps you might enjoy checking out the other groups too. If nothing else, it is interesting to get a taste of what was up and coming in Los Angeles before gangsta rap took over and seemingly pushed fun-loving rappers like the Fila Fresh Crew and Rappinstine to the wayside. This rip was sourced from the original album at perfect MP3 quality, featuring Rappinstine’s “Scream.” Subsequent pressings replaced “Scream” with NWA’s “A Bitch iz a Bitch,” so click here and pretend you’ve been down with the posse from the very beginning.

Proud to be Black

Run-DMC was not the first rap group I ever heard, but they were the first that I actively listened to. To a little kid in a Pennsylvania redneck town like me, Run-DMC busted out the sickest jams around. Everyone else in my family had their own taste in pop music that was well represented in our household. My dad was in charge of supplying the records, but he would not bend to my requests to bring Metallica records into the fold. He did, however, come home with a handful of Run-DMC singles for me to listen to. Perhaps they would be the start of my establishing my own niche in the family music collection instead. At eight years old, I obviously knew nothing about rap music or its history. I just knew that I loved this new sound coming out of the radio speakers.

Hip-hop culture hit the mainstream like the atomic bomb in the mid ‘80s. Suddenly, redneck kids were attempting the Human Beat Box and walked around town with ghetto blasters like they were Radio Raheem in Do the Right Thing. Run-DMC and LL Cool J battled it out to be the kings of this transition, at least until a trio of smartass white kids called the Beastie Boys hit it huge with a single called “Fight for Your Right (to Party).”

When I first moved to California in the late ‘80s, I found out the hard way that Run-DMC were already passé amongst my fellow little kid rap fans. Little did they know that none of their favorites would be relevant past 1990, rendered obsolete by hardcore gangsta rap. Run-DMC has managed to stand the test of time. I still overhear people listening to them occasionally.

Raising Hell isn’t Run-DMC’s best album, but it is my favorite. The first four songs are classics, including the smash hit cover of Aerosmith’s “Walk This Way.” Sure, the middle section drags, but “You Be Illin’” picks it back up. Unfortunately, “Dumb Girl” slows it right back down. Songs about dumb girls can be funny, but this one is, well, dumb. Maybe that was the point. “Proud to Be Black” closes the album on a high note. The normally lighthearted Run-DMC get serious with this rap, lyrically rejecting the slave mentality in favor of standing up for oneself and looking past things like skin color. Hopefully the human race will be able to cure the cancer of racism someday.

Raise hell

Make the Leaders Fight

Bands are often less remembered for their music than they are for everything else—be it onstage antics, violence, or simply the musicians themselves. From what I can tell, Special Forces are no exception. Most people would probably just write them off as another generic ‘80s hardcore band, but there is certainly more to them than just that. Special Forces issued their first demo in 1983 and continued as something of a Bay Area punk farm team for nearly ten years. The various local punk luminaries who have done tours of duty with Special Forces are too many to name, but the main cog was always a character by the name of Orlando Xavier. Affectionately known to most as Ox, Orlando was one of the first punks hanging out on Berkeley’s Telegraph Avenue back in the early ‘80s. Ever since then, he has been quite the visible fixture in the Bay Area punk scene, loudly holding court at the bar, working security at Gilman in the early ‘90s, or scaring shoplifters at Amoeba Records. Forget about Gimme Something Better; you could probably fill a book with bizarre Orlando stories alone. Not a man you would want to meet in a dark alley. Bet on that.

Local bands rule, right? Special Forces would have been a band that provided a soundtrack to many moments of your punk rock youth. “In South Africa” would have been stuck in your head while on a half-sheet of acid at the anti-apartheid protest. You would have gotten drunk in the alley and slam-danced your little heart out in some dingy warehouse as they played. Their patches would adorn your jacket. You ain’t gotta lie to kick it. We all know this, so don’t front. Try to keep all of this in mind when you listen to songs like “Death on Holiday, “Cockrocker,” “Make the Leaders Fight” (always my favorite), “Mulemeat Blues,” or “Berkeley Hardcore.” Perhaps then you will see why Special Forces is a name that brings a smile to the faces of older East Bay punks when brought up. They also had a song called “Generic Thrash,” so at least they knew what you thought of them the whole time.

Babalooooooooooo!

MegaRepost: Shit Gets Smashed

Shit Gets Smashed was a compilation released by East Bay Menace during the local scene’s supposed “dead” period of the mid ‘90s. While Green Day and Rancid were blowing up big on MTV, a number of their peers formed new bands that mostly shifted towards a darker sound than their more melodic outfits of years past. Of course, I am referring to the “Oakland crust” sound, which has roots in older bands like Crucifix, Neurosis, and Christ on Parade. With a couple exceptions, Shit Gets Smashed documents all of the bands that played that style around here back then. Eldopa, Ojorojo, and Multi-Facet represent Oakland Satanic darkness, while Apeface were up to similar hijinks in San José. The Oakland bands have admittedly had better moments elsewhere, but the Apeface tracks are the best I have heard from them. Despite this being thought of as an Oakland crustcore compilation, that is hardly the case. Punk of a more straightforward nature gets its due with Hot Rod Shopping Cart, Squat, and Masterbaiter. Feel free to drench yourself in cheap beer to the rollicking drunken punk stylings of Strychnine, Mickey & the Big Mouths, and Loaded. Not all of the bands are from the East Bay either—San Francisco, San José, and Petaluma are also included. 

I should admit that listening to Shit Gets Smashed does not always bring back pleasant memories. The mid ‘90s were both a fun and frustrating time in the East Bay, which is a subject that has been (and will continue to be) covered here numerous times. Tribalism was abounding, as people were much more rigid in their punk rock identities than they are now. New blood was not easily accepted, especially what with the amount of mainstream bozos flocking to Gilman Street after reading about the place in Rolling Stone. However, dealing with the bullshit was a good test of one’s resolve. Plenty of lessons were learned that later got applied in ways that made things better around here. With that in mind, I appreciate being able to have witnessed some of the things I saw as a teenager, both good and bad. 

Whether anyone likes it or not, there were things happening in the Bay Area in the years between the first Neurosis album and the Ramen Days DVD—certainly more than just A.F.I. and Oppressed Logic. Shit Gets Smashed proves that, although it has faded into obscurity to some degree. Here is your second chance (actually third, considering this is a repost) to enjoy the evidence.

Sassy

Reina Aveja may have hailed from Gainesville, but it would be foolish to believe that they had anything in common musically with bands like This Bike is a Pipe Bomb or Against Me. It would also be a bad idea to lower your expectations based on bassist Jessica Mills’ previous stint in the awful ska band Less Than Jake. These queen bees churned out toxic sludge that could have sent every folk punk, ska kid, and doubter running for their lives. Fortunately, their sentiments appeared to be a bit removed from the drug-addled self-pity that is typical of most bands of their ilk. Simply put, Reina Aveja was a band that sounded like they were legitimately having fun playing heavy music. Stranger things have happened.

Reina Aveja came out here on tour at the end of 1998, playing an ill-attended Gilman show with another Gainesville band called Panthro UK United 13. Apparently their drummer Becky had such a great time, she called home and told her husband Judd that their plans to move to New York had changed. They moved to the Bay Area instead, bringing Reina Aveja vocalist Jen Roberts with them. Upon their arrival, the trio started a new band called Brainbloodvolume with Robert Collins of Artimus Pyle. They didn’t last long, but Jen eventually lent her considerable vocal talents to I Love a Parade, which also boasted ex-members of His Hero is Gone, Econochrist, Grinch, and Eldopa in their ranks. Becky and Judd regrouped some time later with Laudanum, who is still with us after weathering a number of lineup changes.

Chances are you didn’t give a damn about Reina Aveja when they were around. Now you have a second chance to catch up with this criminally underrated stoner sludge unit, so it’s okay. Really.

Here

MegaRepost: Neurosis - Live at 924 Gilman Street 4/28/90

One of our first posts was this soundboard recording of Neurosis playing at Gilman Street in April of 1990, which certainly warrants a second look. I mistakenly thought this was the same recording as the Short Wave Warfare bootleg, but you can still rest assured that this one is a million times better. If you are in the camp that enjoys their material up to The Word as Law, then you will appreciate the opportunity to add this set to your hard drive. Neurosis crushes the audience with twenty songs of Oakland punk darkness before taking off on tour or whatever this show was a benefit for. A few of these songs are still in instrumental form, but none came out as finished product on any future Neurosis records. Someday I will have to post the Econochrist and Filth sets from this same show, but it will be quite some time before that happens. Until then, get high and lose your mind with Part 1 and Part 2. Click on both of those links so you can get the whole set. If you are a moron, click on only one link and live a halfassed life.

Nobody's Wiping

Despite what I said about State of Fear some months back, I think it goes without saying that Misery stands tall as the undisputed kings of Twin Cities crust. Perhaps someone else who is more active in the area’s punk scene than we are can tell us differently. Until that happens, their claim to royalty remains intact amongst the hygienically challenged masses. This record was recorded live in New York City and released by the famed Squat or Rot label in 1993. For a live recording, this isn’t bad at all. Misery sounds exactly as how one should expect them to in this setting—a godawful drunken racket. These three songs are staples in their set too, at least from what I have seen of them. One is a spirited cover of the Amebix favorite “Nobody’s Driving,” which sounds like your drunken loser friends in the garage after a couple of 40s. To me, this is another one of those records where you can smell the stench of stale malt liquor and other assorted aromas emanating from the grooves. Unfortunately, we do not provide the piss-yellow vinyl or the back cover photo of some dude’s crusty ass for the full effect. That might be quite all right in your book though. Just get wasted and enjoy the tunes, fuckhead.

Wipe

Medicine of Thieves

Sixteen years ago, I was at Gilman waiting for the first night of the 1996 Slap a Ham Fiesta Grande to start when my friend Ben came running up to me in excitement. Totally stoked, he informed me that tonight’s show featured a surprise jump-on band—Copout, who had blown minds at the previous year’s Fiesta Grande. I really loved the Copout seven-inch and wanted my own copy, so I rushed over to their merch table to say hello. Unfortunately, Ben was a little too excited to get his info straight. Copout had broken up quite some time ago, so they would not be playing tonight after all. Instead, it was their new band with a weird name: His Hero is Gone. I think they caught the disappointed look on my face and reassured me that things hadn’t changed much between bands. Fine, I will keep an open mind and see what these guys are all about.

By the end of their set, those of us who were bummed about the Copout tease had been won over by His Hero is Gone and their blistering doom-and-gloom hardcore. With newfound looks of excitement on our faces, we flocked back to their merch table for anything they had for sale. Everyone bought their T-shirts except for me. I only had enough money to choose between a shirt and a demo. Judging by this post, I think you can guess which choice I made. Can’t say I have ever regretted that decision.

The die-hard His Hero is Gone fans might find it funny, but the Medicine of Thieves demo was always my favorite material of theirs. Most of their records never really grabbed my attention the way this demo did. Don’t ask me why; I have no idea. Maybe it is because they still managed to sound heavy and overpowering with an eight-track recording. Perhaps it was because Todd killed my enthusiasm by talking way too much between songs every other time I saw them live. Ultimately, it is more than likely due to my being there for that first Gilman show and how special that entire evening was to me. Too bad I didn’t think to tape them off the Gilman soundboard like I did with Charles Bronson, Spazz, and Phobia that night. Wouldn’t that have been a nice bonus to this tape?

I have seen copies of Medicine of Thieves with a different cover, but I don’t know what the story is with that version. Rest assured that this is the same tape that I purchased from His Hero is Gone themselves back on January 5, 1996. I have taken good care of that tape ever since then and I am happy to share it with all two or three of our readers today. Join Team Murder USA here.