There're as many reasons why UJ3RK5 is unknown as there are why the band isn't famous. As to the latter point, it'd be difficult to succeed in a country while simultaneously mocking it's state religion. Good try, though, the song's boss.
The guitar sounds all weird and think on “Stop Start.” Much like Nothing Fits, issued earlier this year through In the Red Records, differentiating between works here and other stuffs might just come down to becoming accustomed to better fidelity. If you try real hard, you might even understand some of the lyrics. Third Man Live doesn’t wind up being essential. But it was probably for collector types in the first place.
The reason I ran into this group, though, is that on its forth single, the 1990 Solution 8, the band goes and covers “Non-Alignment Pact” by Cleveland’s own weirdoes, Pere Ubu. That Ohio band’s been covered a few times in the past – including takes by Living Colour and Seattle’s Mudhoney. Seeing as the Ubus were a relentlessly singular group, for a few years until Mayo Thompson showed up, at least, it becomes relatively difficult to cover the band and do it well.
In each group’s attempts, there’s an understandable urge to redefine whatever composition’s being versioned, but in Tar’s case, sticking close to the original resulted in a weird stew. Tossing in an expletive, something Ubu’s David Thomas didn’t do frequently, works to the band’s disadvantage as does guitar feedback approximating a synthesizer during the song’s opening moments. It’s not a bad effort – in fact, the song’s maybe the best approximation of the CLE group – but by the time it’s over, The Modern Dance feels like it should be listened to in its entirety. Either way, the ‘A’ side, “Solution 8” sounds like its gonna be a hardcore track, but winds up in Hüsker’s territory. That’s not really a snub, just a fact.
Suicidal Tendencies might be pretty funny to listen to at this late date. The Boneless Ones don’t go and get that ridiculous, but there are few moments on Skate for the Devil that listeners will find worth going back to over and over again. If this soundtracked your teenage years, though, you get a pass.
What’s most amusing about all of this is the fact that the Boneless Ones only have two ways of opening a song. One option, as on “Rock and Roll Slob,” is to begin with a bassline rumbling around, just busy enough to fool a few folks into thinking this was a technically proficient band. Maybe the following guitar solo was proof. Or maybe it isn’t. Depends on one’s opinion of wanking in the middle of an almost punk track.
The other way these guys went about starting songs was to include some low key, purposeful cerebral guitar chording. “We Believe in You” is all Chuck Berry practice before the Boneless Ones take it into boring rock territory. Whatever the case, though, the band’s gonna appeal to some hamfisted, dull eyed thirty five year olds who remember the glory days.
Beginning in 1980, the Hartford based act combined gruff vocals and basic punk tunes with a bit of over the top guitar work, included for self aggrandizement as much as anything else. The troupe disbanded within two years, leaving no recordings behind. It wasn’t until the following year that the band reconvened, but only included the original bassist who picked up some singer named Brian Ripthroat (whoa.) The group’s first single included these folks. But the follow-up counted a new guitarist. There, apparently, wasn’t enough shredding. More personnel shifts ensued and by the end of ’84, White Pigs sported none of its original members even as this latter line-up found the most space on wax and even a few well distributed compilations. Of course, being the mid ‘80s and the band not favoring the spandex version of metal there wasn’t a tremendous future for ‘em. By 1990, everything was history and the band’s collected works – recordings spanning its career and endless line up changes – had been issued.
Songs of Sin remains the band’s singular statement of purpose. It’s pretty well flawed, but counts as the most lengthy release in White Pigs catalog. There’s a six minute song called “Body Parts.” It’s hard to tell if that’s cool or utterly ridiculous. But either way, the track gets pretty close to thrash territory while the band’s singer drones on about eternity. Funny, that. Sitting alongside more punk related fair – “Live for the Fire” – the song serves to properly display White Pigs evolution over time. Whether or not any of the line ups here are going to be enormously engaging depends on listener’s ability to assimilate taste to aggressive music’s various voicings. Regardless of one’s aural proclivities, there aren’t too many people who are going to be capable of resisting the charms of a reimagined “Musnter’s Theme.” White Pigs get ridiculous.
The Kids were monstrously catchy. Why they didn't find a bigger fanbase in Belgium's an utter mystery. Seriously, on par with the Ramones. And not as dumb.
Oh, the music. It ain’t band, if not ridiculously similar to the wealth of Bay Area acts mining classic garage sounds and doo-woppy harmonies. Issuing a few discs on 1234 Records didn’t hurt these Clams even as the band doesn’t seem to sport a wide reaching fan base. This isn’t a case of band wagon hoppin’ gone wrong. Shannon and company just seemed to have inserted a bit too much girl group crooning for the general (read: underground) listenership to pick up on. Efforts like “Surrounded By Ghosts” are incredible base solely on its vocals. The musical accompaniment gets a bit dicey and winds up being interchangeable song to song. Wrapping the mediocre package up are all those traditionally sappy love songs – apart from the aforementioned track, of course. If compared to that new B. Spears album, this rules. Compared to anything else mining the same influences, it’s just average.
Whatever one’s opinion on the state of current musics, Durham’s Double Negative began issuing music back during 2007 or so, The Wonderful And Frightening World Of Double Negative being the band’s earliest long player. Given the band’s fan base, assumed to be an assortment of Southerners and hardcore hardcores, it’s not a tremendous surprise to find no one’s made mention of the fact that Double Negative’s album references the Fall pretty openly. In name only. The music here’s SSD/FUs pretty much all the way. What’s funny – and there’re a few things – is the band opening this disc with forty four seconds of feedback as if the gesture’s either artful or unique. It’s not.
Either way, soldiering through eleven tracks in less than twenty minutes is usually a good sign when examining works of this nature. There’s no need for Double Negative to bolster one minute songs like “Looking at the Rats,” with its pretty sad sack lyrical stuffs, with anything flowery in the music department. The band does take a few different tempos apart while working with sturdy hardcore tropes. “Retro Abortion” feels as if it’s been recorded before, or at least had its lyrical concerns addressed elsewhere. The shock-value title on this one, though, does what it’s supposed to and continues the album’s general blitz on the way to a quick climax.
The weird thing about The Wonderful and Frightening World…, just like a bunch of other hardcore releases, is that if they’re issued as a record, it takes no time to listen to one side, making revists seem like a waste. And if you’ve got this thing on CD, it’ll just be a pain to play in your car. Good thing no one buys stuff anymore.
Eire Apparent
Eire Apparent was an Irish band I really enjoyed in the 60s. They had a really unique sound and wrote some great songs. Their only album, Sunrise, featured Jimi Hendrix on guitar and was produced by Hendrix. The band broke up in 1969 and members went on to play with other groups. Here is a song titled “Yes I Need Somebody.”
