The Pointed Sticks: Canuck Punk

The bloated field of punk and power pop by the dawn of the '80s was becoming laughable. There was scant variety - really how many variations on Ramones' songs could there actually be. And for that reason a great many groups figured that the addition of a keyboard was the way to go. Unfortunately, the resultant effect of that frequently was to pin down those efforts to a specific time and place. That stuff just sounds dated now. But for some reason Elvis Costello and his band never suffered from that. Partially due to the former computer programmer's song writing acumen, the band unleashed two indispensible discs. And while British Columbia's the Pointed Sticks would only be able to record one full length before folding in 1981, some of the band's work is on par with its British counter parts.

Hearing aggressive music from Canada is always a bit confusing. Toronto is the cleanest big city I've ever seen and British Columbia is world renowned for weed. But in any environment, there can - and perhaps should be - unrest. The Pointed Sticks, in addition to recording a few singles, set down twelve tracks in 1980 that comprised Perfect Youth. But seeing as the band toured only briefly during it's hey day, the LP is probably in short supply. For nearly twenty five years those tracks were all too difficult to hunt down, but in '95 Part of the Noise, which included most of that proper disc in addition to some odds and sods, was released.

Amongst the engorged crop of power pop bands at the time the band began recording, it was probably difficult to secure a record deal with any sort of reputable outlet - but the Pointed Sticks did. Signing to Stiff Records should have ensured their renown. But due to monetary problems at the label, the band never headed back to the studio. That's obviously to the detriment of the individuals in the group, but the Diodes headed back for more and look what happened to those guys.

The way in which this compilation is sequenced, though, breaks up the original album's track listing and groups together the songs that don't sport any keys or saxophone towards the beginning of the disc. It works out pretty well and on "You Must Be Crazy" finds the Pointed Sticks sounding pretty close to the Buzzcocks on the Spiral Scratch EP.

Who knows what would have been, though. The frantic pacing of tracks like "All I Could Take" point to the band's love affair with a speedy tempo, so perhaps they wouldn't have fallen prey to the lesser trappings of new wave and power pop.

A reformed version of the group toured a bit a few years back subsequent to the proper re-release of Perfect Youth. Thankfully, though, there haven't been any new recordings put out. Hearing this compilation - which could be considered superior to the reissued, proper studio disc - should enervate all but the pickiest punkers. The melodies are sugary, the tempo never lets up and those oft troublesome keyboards are, for the most part, a well integrated part of the Pointed Sticks.

Malfunction in Hoosier Land: Dow Jones and the Gizmos

I'm from the Midwest. And regardless of how I explain the place that I'm from, it seems that folks can't differentiate between reality and what they've figured through preconceived notions, television, its news programs and movies. Contrary to popular belief, there are pockets of relative culture in and around the Midwest. Yup, most of the industry is now a collection of rusted out sculptures representing past successes and current economic problems. But the Midwest isn't just an assortment of farms and cornfields.

Indiana, while still sporting sections of industrialized and burnt out cities and towns, is probably the most boring state to drive through - apart from Wyoming if you take I-90. So it's pretty surprising that there was a decent punk scene brewing in the Hoosier state during at least half of the '70s. With that being said, probably most of the bands on compilations like Gulcher Records' Red Snerts were from some of the more cosmopolitan areas or college towns like Bloomington.

The most well known group from the Hoosier state, though, was the Zero Boys. But before those folks helped codify hardcore, a few bands cropped up that still sound pretty exciting even at this late date. The Gizmos as well Dow Jones and the Industrials trafficked in different punk related musics to various ends.

The Gizmos - who were pretty much just a hard rock band - enervated its music by inserting more childlike phrases and thoughts into the music than even the Ramones were capable of. The melodies were as spartan as their New York counterparts, the beat was as simple and the lyrics might have been even more dumb. "Muff Divin' (In Wilkie South)" and "Pumpin' to Playboy" are pretty good examples of that. It didn't matter, though. Because of the topical and all too relatable lyrical content, perhaps more immediate to its hometown fans, those simple riffs seemed anthemic. And on "Bible Belt Baby," the band reaches back to deliver one of the finest cuts from the first wave of punk.

That track, however, was a part of a disc called Hoosier Hysteria! that feature the Gizmos as well as a band with a wider aural palette - Dow Jones and the Industrials.

Where the aforementioned band was pretty much a straight rock band, Dow Jones was more tied to the next step in punk - that just means that had a keyboard at their disposal. With Hoosier Hyseria! being split between two bands, it only served to extol the groups' differences. And on two back to back tracks from Dow Jones - "Malfunction" and "Dude in the Direction Field" - the band is able to get to a weird futuristic space that not too many punk related acts could or would get near. The tracks aren't in Screamers territory, but Devo wouldn't be too far fetched - on their demos at least. The slowed down tempo and odd timing the Indian group had was most adeptly expressed on these tracks. And while some of their other work may have been tied to a more strict interpretation of rock and roll, there were moments when Dow Jones and the Industrials moved past that and created something unrelated to anything that Midwestern folks had heard before.

Kicked in the Head: Mr. California & the State Police

A juvenile outlook and any sort of ill conceived behavior can be considered to be part of the general punk aesthetic. Of course, that's a pretty slim portion of what punk is and or could be. But if the Ramones were able to make a career for around thirty years off of bubble gum wet dreams and Judys and Sheenas, it would make sense that others would go ahead and try to replicate that.

With the ever growing cottage industry based upon scarcely available records and assorted collectible ephemera Mr. California has figured that if he cranks out a few slabs of vinyl with some tripped out designs gracing the cover and the record itself, he'd be able to make a few bucks while acting the part of an artist. I suppose he's not incorrect, but I suspect that a good deal of his recordings won't translate into a live setting - unless he's nuts, which is a possibility.

Mr. California has, over time, released a few singles and long players under various names with sundry groups. But having moved to the Bay are in order to finish an album has ended in his moving to Cleveland. And honestly, having lived there for the greater part of my life, he'll fit in perfectly. The sounds that he coaxes outta his drum machine, guitar (s?) and a few keyboards surely fits some skuzzy distillation of the Midwest. Is this dreck gonna be sought out in the future as a lost grail of independently produced punk? Nope. But it's entertaining for about fifteen minutes. Unfortunately, I'm Gonna Kick You in the Head is roughly thirty minutes worth of music.

This disc - the only exposure I've had to this dude - is confusing as all get out, frankly. While the album is split over two sides of a record, there are roughly fifty songs included here. Even if a few of them barely qualify as songs, some of the track names have to reference the skits or radio snippets that are included here as well. If that's not the case, I'm still confused.

Musically, there's as much Ramones as anything else. Of course that classic band is run through a filter of scummy '80s thrash and some random synth pop. There isn't really a setting that Mr. California sounds most comfortable in - but it should all be disquieting to the listener. The child like perception of subject matter might be as entertaining as anything else on the disc.

However many punk bands have songs about posers, that practice should probably stop after you reach your thirties. Mr. California hasn't exactly grasped that as of yet. But despite the disposable lyrical content, some of the music comes across pretty well. I'd like to point to specific tracks, but really, I have no idea what's what on here. And seeing as the second side is comprised of at least five minutes of a radio broadcast with hillbillies arguing with each other, it probably doesn't make a difference. In the end, though, this disc probably looks cooler than it sounds.

Theoretical Static: Glenn Branca

The No Wave scene somehow was able to incorporate a pretty vast amount of music for such a bizarrely defined genre. Of course, a great deal of what the initial and all too brief blooming inspired in the following decades kinda sucks. So thanks for that New York. Much appreciated. Stupid dance punk.

Anyway, out of the slew of names that gained some sort of prominence following their association with the short lived No Wave scene, Glenn Branca might be one of the better thought of personalities, if not the most well known. But before he was Mr. Glenn Branca, avant garde composer and slick dude about town, he had to cut his teeth, as it were, in a few ensembles. But seeing as the entire No Wave thing was over pretty quickly, these groups didn't get too much of a shot at recording. Between the Static and Theoretical Girls, apart from some random live tracks that are probably sitting around in someone's closet, there aren't more than twenty songs. And through the wisdom of the folks over at Atavistic Records, they've compiled some of the Glenn Branca penned tunes in the form of Songs: Live & Studio Recordings (1977-'79).

If you've managed to read this far, you already understand that nothing that was part and parcel of No Wave was overly listenable - apart from some James Chance funk workouts. Even those tunes had an element of abrasive noise that really won't fly too many places. And this collection of Glenn Branca tunes isn't any different.

In contrast to his work on Lesson No. 1 and The Ascension, there's at least a bit of singing/talking on every track here. And while there aren't any less guitar related annihilations, some of these songs actually sound like songs - thus the title of the disc. It's still composerly, but not in the same way. Sonic Youth still, most likely, dug this.

The disc is split between works from each band. First, the Static spit out two tracks - both sitting more closely to what Branca would become known for than the latter tracks on this set. But it seems even a few years prior to his recording those career defining albums that Branca already had nearly figured out his entire approach. "My Relationship," even with its brief vocal sections easily approximates what would follow in tone, volume and sheer aggression.

The tracks from Theoretical Girls vary in comparison. And "TV Song" is almost a straight punk track - that's not necessarily bad. The constant key line and chunky guitars layered behind some screaming almost makes the band sound like a weirdo version of the Adverts - who I suppose were already weirdos.

Songs: Live & Studio Recordings (1977-'79) certainly isn't for mohawked punkers who've spent hours adorning their leather jackets in some vein attempt to pretend that it's 1978. But those of you who consider yourselves reformed punkers, replete with the ability to digest enough abrasive noise as any other pseudo intellectual, indulge. It won't hurt.

Boyskout - School of Etiquette (Alive, 2004)

Girls. Go buy this album. Lesbians. Go buy this album. Nu Wayvers, who are into lesbians, go buy this album. There. I reached the entire market. Good. And now for something completely different...

Frankly, when I saw what was in the package from one of the most respectable independent labels in the country, I was disappointed. Between the cheese-tinged name of the band to the picture on the cover of the cd, I wanted to toss this one aside and move on.  But, I didn't. I gave it a shot.

I have never been a fan of chick bands/female artists, except for Billie Holiday and Nina Simone.  I don't understand why. Are there not enough girls out there picking up instruments or singing? I can readily recall numerous girls throughout my time walkin' this land that play and sing but aren't in bands. What's the haps?

In high-school band there was the flute and clarinet section.  Where the hell did all those girls go? Are they busy fiddling with something else? Maybe my almost robotic readiness to dismiss this group is a reason for other ladies to get a guitar. 

Where's Lady Saw?

Anyway, this release from the Bay area isn't bad.  It didn't make me become a lesbian, but that'd be a stretch anyway. There are certainly interesting moments on this disc. The production, though, is really what makes this release fly. Not to insist that these ladies can't play some rock music that sounds nervous in a competent way, they can. But without the production values as they were this wouldn't come off as well.

The drum starts off the album on "Jesse James" sounding almost electronic. Unfortunately, the lyrics are pretty low down in the mix on this one. Leslie Satterfield, the singer/mumbler, is only understandable for a moment here and there. The music's above par, but they could be telling me to skin my cat and craft a fine pair of shoes out of him.

"Identity" has nice production noise accompanying the music, reminiscent of The Cripples. The production really plays a crucial part in making this track move. The tempo change, about a minute in, adds a lot of personality to the track as well, but it seems that the lyrics rest upon the relationship theoretics. Consistently entertaining, the music continues, but the mumbling voice stumbles through sexually tinged adages. 

There's a waltz ("Circus Song") on this disc that is reminiscent of The Doors twisted tempo changes, but of course the time signature, not the melody or technical proficiency is what links the two bands. Unfortunately, by the end of the album the tracks all begin to sound similar.  f you like one song, you like 'em all, but if you think that one track is average, the listening can become tiresome. With the criticism out of the way, this band serves to fill an important space in music. Leslie Satterfield acts as the mouthpiece for at-least some of the dispossessed 'Mericans out there.  And that can't be criticized.

Dead End Kids - I’m So Bored with the UK (No Front Teeth, 2004)

Sometime in the mid to late  90's I bought a split 12 inch by The Spent Idols and The Dead End Kids. The Spent Idols side consisted of punk covers and made my shorts dirty with pleasure. The Dead End Kids side included mostly originals and probably the best Stanglers cover I've ever heard ("London Lady"). I eventually tracked down full lengths by both of these acts and over the years The Spent Idols have been the background music for a number of debauched evenings in and around the suburbs of Cleveland and wherever else I've had the displeasure of living. But, Mike Spent has fallen off the face of the earth - he might be in a retirement home by this point. The Dead End Kids, however, continue on in the spirit of those evenings, even though I doubt that they're ever about to come anywhere near my home for a show. Regardless, they released a new slab subsequent to that 12 inch. I first plopped it down in my portable cd player, tossed it in my pocket and hopped on my bicycle. The voice was that same nasally-snotty yelp that I recalled for years prior. The effect on the guitar was roughly the same and the songs were short as all get out. I'm So Bored with the UK clocks in at less than 45 minutes and includes five live tracks on top of the 14 studio-style. So, they skimp on quantity. But what about quality you may well inquire. Unfortunately they skimp on that as well. "Johnny Thunders Killed My Friends" is the first offering and unfortunately the title is more intriguing than the song actually is. Following that, the ubiquitous tracks about crappy radio culture and speaking without any substance pour in. Fortunately there is a song titled "Dinosaur". And while the track is nothing more than punky drivel, it at least made me think about Jonathan Richman. And I like him - well the Modern Lovers. 

None of this whole damned record is mixed well either. But I guess that's punk, though.  Each track sounds muddled in a completely different way. I feel pretty freakin' awful sayin' this considering the fond feelings that I have regarding the band, but that's how it goes. The guitar and bass are on par with any average punk band, but the drumming can make ya wince every once in a while - if not on every track. Perhaps the years between my introduction to these folks and my re-acquaintance has made the difference between appreciation and horror, but that just means that the Dead End Kids haven't changed and perhaps I have. At least they're still making music that doesn't sound like it belongs on the radio. But seriously, go find that split 12 inch with the Spent Idols.  There have to be some out there still. Maybe by the time ya'll find a copy, the Dead End Kids will have put out something new that doesn't make me wanna listen to a metronome.

The Ex: Dutch Disturbances

However many albums Crass has sold, that's how many bands have begun because of them. No one could be faulted for that- well maybe. But the British group's brand of politicism spread through punk as much as any fashion, cause or other trapping. That being said, conversely, the Subhumans concurrently created a stripped down and overtly politicized music. Yet, it seems as if the template that those folks worked from hasn't been taken to heart by other musicians.

The style that the Subhumans embraced incorporated some inside out rhythmic devices contrived from the two tone movement that was beginning to gain notoriety during its early days as a group. I've, in the past, decried the fact that not more folks ended up recycling these styles considering that everything else has gotten a re-working. Perhaps punkers just aren't up to the task musically. Who knows.

But after hearing about the Ex subsequent to a tour a few years ago, I can feel a bit better. The Dutch band doesn't really cop a straight rip off from the Subhumans, but apart from Zounds, there's not another band that sounds like this. And that's why it's bloody funny to repeatedly read that the Ex are basically the Netherlands' version of Crass. It's all subjective, but given the bands already mentioned, it's pretty easy to guess where the Ex sit musically.

The band has been consistently churning out blatant political tirades for thirty years at this point. But looking at the Ex's first full length - Disturbing Domestic Peace - one couldn't guess at the band's sound today. Currently, the group sports as much post-industrial noise and nonsense as any German screech mongers. On that first, 1980 album, though, things were very different.

Every group mentioned herein includes a nonstop political commentary along with each song. But the Ex work to add sexuality and gender to the list of issues it has with culture. "Meanwhile" recounts a date that gets a bit out of hand in the back of a car when a guy pushes a chick too far. Heady stuff for punkers in 1980, especially given that American groups were talking about Reagan nonstop.

The inside out, pseudo ska on "Rules" is memorable - but that approach is revisited a few other times as well. Electronic blips and beeps on not just the lead off "The Sky is Blue Again," but on "Squatsong" actually do set the Ex apart from the rest of the second wave of punkers, though. These inclusions don't really amount to too much unfortunately. It's a momentary distraction from the endless guitar, bass and drums that makes up the lion's share of punk.

So while Crass is important for nothing apart from being vociferous politicos and the Subhumans were actually a good band, the Ex were somewhere in the middle. That's not meant to be overtly critical, but for the most part, punkers aren't known for their instrumental prowess. Very few punk discs from the early '80s, though, can get anywhere near Disturbing Domestic Peace. Cop at will.

Nazis and a Vile Tone

Everything goes in cycles - not just music. Any art, politics, fashion. It all comes down to the same thing. People enjoy what they're already familiar with and if one figures out how to repackage it and shill it to the masses, than a few bucks are gonna come in. This applies to the Viletones, but to all of the punk class circa '77.

By this point, Iggy Pop was coked up and strung out, being followed around or following David Bowie through Europe and churning out some boring tunes that really could be considered the dregs of '70s rock. Iggy may have been confident in his new direction, but that doesn't mean that it was the right one. Hindsight, though, is perfect. But this all probably goes to explain why the Stooges released a new album last year and are currently touring.

A Canadian punk band - on a few tracks at least - cop, pretty well, the Stooges sound in an even more stripped down manner. They packaged themselves properly. After watching the band fat, pilled out rock writer Lester Bands figured, "Now every band in the world is the Stooges. I didn't tell Natzee Dog that, though..."

Of course, Lester was a rehash, so who's to believe. But the intimidating persona that Nazi Dog - aka Steven Leckie - cultivated on stage with the Viletones was apparently ample enough to scare some folks. But cutting yourself in a perforance - much like Sid Vicious on the other side of the Atlantic - was just some schtick copped from Iggy. If we're still talking about it, though, the charade probably worked.

The Viletones, regardless of their posturing, were the most destructive force outta Toronto's punk scene that counted the overrated Diodes and the rock and rolly Teenage Head. "Screamin Fist," the band's most well known single came off as some bastard concoction of Iggy, the Damned and the Buzzcocks. The track's all machine quickness and consistently groaning guitar chords with Nazi Dog rasping out the song's title as many times as he can in two minutes.

Properly released singles only counted for a few songs. And in the initial run of the group, there wouldn't be any full length or live recordings issued. As those aforementioned singles gained a bit of notoriety, partially because of Bang's writing up the group, but also because of the Toronto punk showcase at CBGB's, an few long players cropped up during the '80s as the band reformed for a time.

Apparently, Nazi Dog, who most likely goes by his birth name at this point, runs an art gallery in his home town and sporadically plays with an augmented line up of the Viletones. Even though every punk band that ever played a show has had a reunion tour, the Viletones haven't found their way to your town yet. And if they don't ever show up, the Taste of Honey compilation collects those stray shot singles and adds a few surprises. The sound is shockingly good, but even if it wasn't it'd be difficult to deny the punk chops that these dudes exhibit.

DMZ: So Far Ahead, They Were Behind

There's no good way in which to introduce disappointment. The things that DMZ and its members wanted weren't attained. And, understandably, that created a pretty decent basis for vitriol towards other acts, labels and insider industry folks.

Beginning as early as any other band that might be considered a part of the first wave of punk, DMZ jumped out from a few of the other original acts from the period due to their intricate knowledge of aggressive rock music. Whereas the Ramones and the Cramps mined confectionary pop and rockabilly to inform their sound, DMZ had an in depth knowledge of northwestern rock bands. Utilizing the Sonics and the Wailers seemed to inject these Boston area dudes with some other sort of musical aptitude. That's not to say the Ramones were slouches, but DMZ bounced differently than anyone else. They were a rock band in a pretty strict sense.

The inclusion of keyboards, while ostracizing them from some folks buoyed their sound, made the band sound more muscular and added some tripped out '60s garage style to their music. Mono man, though, could have yelled atop of any sort of din and come out sounding alright.

Needing a home to record on, Sire Records signed the group in the same feeding frenzy that lent all of the New York punkers contracts. Of course, DMZ was different. But even when paired with producers that were once associated with the Mothers of Invention, the Bostonians turned out a curious self titled disc.

Leading the disc off with a '60s style sing along track that recalls the Trashmen and the Sonics at once, was tempered by some odd guitar production and weird levels. As disconcerting as that first track was, the following number - while still a stomper - worked poorly in the rave up mode. It seems that the sequencing of the disc pushed some of the more metallic sounding guitar tracks up front in an attempt to portray DMZ as something that they weren't.

As soon as the band gets around to "Cinderella" - from the Sonics catalog - it sounds as if the production's going to remain pretty consistent throughout the remainder of the disc. Counting another two covers - one each from the Troggs and the Wailers - an overwhelming majority of this disc is as garage as work from fellow Bostonians the Real Kids, but with some keys tossed in for good measure.

Some have decried this disc as a Frankenstein affected by the music industry resulting in some second rate schlock. And while there are arguments to be made for that point of view, it's probably just as sensible to figure that DMZ just hadn't figured out how to balance the Nuggets style garage that they were so clearly proponents of and whatever punk was becoming.

As this disc is the summation of the album work from DMZ, some of the singles might do to sate the curious. But as genuine as these dudes were as a band, the studio wasn't the place for them. Bomp! released a few live gigs from these folks that would probably contribute to defining DMZ in a different way - much recommended in light of this studio disc.

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