This three-piece from Vaaa Beeech must've been catching some Rip Van Winkles under a tree since Two-Triple Zero, for I wasn't aware of the 'Sleepers' bedside manner until several weeks ago. My pal jOhn A. tossed me their EP like an illegal Frisbee on the Oceanfront sand. Fortunately, the pedal-pushing policewoman only gave jOhn a warning, thus allowing me to keep the flying disc. I won't be throwing this well-rounded object into File 13 anytime soon. Wham-O! Retro-modern (oxymoron is necessary for differentiation) rock that's very much like the kind Dave Kendall used to roll on "120 Minutes." The 'Sleepers would've awakened the Boston-area Em Tee Vee viewership had they napped in the late-80's, as they remind this sheep counter of pleasant dreams from the Lemonheads/Pixies/Buffalo Tom triumvirate. Amplified acoustics ("Glue And Feathers" and "Vanished Cage"), buzzy-guitar brawls ("Mae" and "Almost Always") and garage grunge ("House On The Hill" and "Wait A Minute") comfort the listener like a bed of nails from Mattress Discounters. Sharp! Have a good night sleep on them.
Producer Mitch Easter, somewhat known for fronting Let's Active but mostly remembered as the man behind the controls of Really Exciting Music's finest hours, makes sweepstakes winners outta The Mockers on ten of these twelve very fine entries. "It Wasn't Just Me" moves to the beat of the ultimate slow dance -- that 0 BPM twist 'n' turn called heartbreak ("I don't think you meant it/Told me that you thought it's for the best/Then why'd you have to go and do The Macarena on my chest?"). "Pearly Gates" doesn't require a 700% tithe to Mister Robertson's wallet for admission to its enclosed community ("Heaven's not a country club/Some can join and some are snubbed/Depending on the church where you have been/It's all just within your mind/And there's no gate to hide behind/To keep all the people out you don't want in"). "Robin's Problem" is that she has too many ("...Attention span like MTV without a television/...A 2-D girl in a 3-D world on a monetary mission"). "C'Mon Over To My Side" wants its subject to cross Maturity Street ("Day by day, you're older now/Just leave that all behind/You say you'll change the way things are/Why isn't now the time?"). For investors of all eras pop (be it '60s Ewe Kay or '80s Gee Aye), the smart money is on The Mockers.
Ten well-produced and arranged compositions that alternate between the quirkiness of Missing Persons (minus the synth action) and the slow-burn of the Alice Cooper Band. "Enquirer" is a temporary respite from the long lines at Gene Walter's Marketplace checkout ("It's not so bad/To worship Jennifer and Brad/And to see how they're clad/Or know which fashions are rad/And she gets a real thrill/As the stories unfurl/It's just her escape/From this miserable world..."). "Natural Selection" begins with some Hawaiian Punch for Captain Caveman ("Cha qui na soonomia soonomia/Com a lot toe na ta ka toe na ta ka"), before pouring modern man a Pepsi product ("If you can't survive the mass migration/You'll be lunch for the crocodiles/The gene pool drained for the generations/Your carcass lays where the vulture smiles"). "Generation X" ain't about Idol comma Billy, but rather, an idol to many ("If you didn't get to know him/While you lived through your teen angst/Let the mystery intrigue you/Find the ghost in lyrics past"). "So Much" deals with a "loving" relationship that's solid only after the sun goes down ("I'm your girl, keep me on the side/Knock on my door in the dark of the night/'Cause I'm that good, just not good for you/You got me, baby -- what can I do?"). In the here and now, all I can see what's in front of me. Lines form on my face and hands. Quang passes Bozzio and Furnier's routine inspection.
It's fitting that the new single from this wild bunch is on Get Hip, since my first Snatchers experience was back in May 1993 at the King's Head Inn. Also on the bill that evening were The Cynics, whose Rock 'N' Roll album was largely responsible for changing the musical outlook of one 18-year-old introverted Salem High School grad. Over twenty shows, 20,000 gallons of beer and twenty-hundred self-imposed AA sessions later, The Candy Snatchers still keep me intoxicated. With this latest attempt to overtake The New Bomb Turks
in the ongoing "Let's record as many singles on as many different labels as possible" tournament, butchers Larry, Matt, Willy and Serge cut their leanest-and-meanest side of beef since the Dead EP on Centsless. $3.99 isn't one hell of a price to get your kicks. Hell yeah!
Another loud 'n' primal piece of blood-red vinyl brought to you by those rock 'n' roll gypsies (note the address change -- AGAIN!) Silas and Bumper. Thee Apostles' first cut has the guitar-and-piano punch of The Humpers' last record sans the Plege-polish production. "Hurry Up And Die" ("Well I could write a book upon the pain that you have caused/That ain't worth the headache or the time that it would cost/Or I could send you hate mail every single day/I won't sleep until your last day") is some evil-toned garage rock (The M-80's meet The Stitches?) with killer backing vocals. On the flip, Big Bobby And The Nightcaps lead off with "Alcoholic Suicide" that's done up in their early rockin' style. Great refrain: "Alcoholic suicide/You can run, but you just can't hide/When you're soaking in formaldehyde/All your friends will be back in time." Even better is the second track, which was originally recorded by Randy Newman. Though I've never heard the "Short People" author's version, I'm willing to bet that The Nightcaps' take stomps all over it like a Doc Marten on Gary Coleman's head. Excellent singing/playing -- if these guys are "this town's last hope for rock 'n' roll," things are definitely looking up at the moment.
I had a good feeling about this release when my eyes made contact with the cover. Having watched more episodes of "Saved By The Bell" (and its various offshoots) than the average male in his late-20s would care to admit, it's refreshing to find others with similar boob tube tastes. TDPD's side is Zack, Slater and Screech arriving late day after day -- stoned outta their minds while jamming on Angry Samoans and Screeching Weasel in the parking lot. Note that the two "geeks" on SBTB's first two installments were named...Screech and Weasel. Coincidence? Report to Mr. Belding's office for clarification. No Class' half finds the three amigos' garage band being offered a deal on Fat Wreck Chords. Meanwhile, Kelly and Lisa flirtatiously convince Mike to cough up the production budget, so that the class can afford another trip to Hawaii. I spent 1.5 years at Bayside. The dog always ate my homework.
Wayne County was a seminal figure of the NYC rock 'n' roll scene in the early 1970s. Originally from Georgia, County injected a high-camp theatrical presence into straight-ahead rock 'n' roll sounds. During her (explanation later) tenure with the Back Street Boys (yeah, that's what they were called!), Wayne recorded the theme for the legendary New York club Max's Kansas City. Due to a lack of commercial appreciation in the U.S. (though she'd drawn national attention by smashing Handsome Dick Manitoba's [from the NYC band The Dictators] face in with the butt end of a microphone stand after being heckled), Wayne relocated to the more friendly (musically speaking) climes of England.
After setting up shop, County enlisted a largely new backing band. She rechristened them The Electric Chairs. They recorded three albums in 1978-79 that weren't released statewide (a damn shame when an American artist can't get domestic vinyl). Several songs from these recordings like "Rock 'N' Roll Enema," "Toilet Love" and "Dead Hot Mama" date back from 1971 -- when Wayne formed her first band called Queen Elizabeth.
By now, you're probably asking: "What's the deal with these misplaced pronouns?" That question is best answered in the opening lines of "Man Enough To Be A Woman" ("I've got a transsexual feeling/It's hard to be true/To the one that's really you"). Not long after the third album, Wayne become Jayne -- onstage and off.
Although this course of action would cause some to look at Wayne/Jayne as a curious novelty, it's a mistake to ignore the recordings. Rock 'N' Roll Cleopatra, a twenty-song compilation, collects tracks from all three Electric Chairs albums. "Rock 'N' Roll Resurrection" strings together words and images of rockers past (Morrison, Brian Jones, etc.) with one great guitar riff. "Worry Wart" makes light in the face of a paranoiac junkie scene ("You're six feet tall/You weigh 93 pounds/And you worry about being fat"). "Eddie And Sheena" tells a two-part tale of a couple from two different sects who have a baby ("And they named the little brat Elvis...ROTTEN!"), complete with deadpan Johnny R-like snarls. "Toilet Love" has playfully disgusting lyrics that are guaranteed to cause uncontrollable laughter ("Your underarms are more than I can bear/And you never, ever change your underwear"). "Evil Minded Momma" swings with a cool rockabilly jaunt. "Fuck Off" tells it like it is ("In other words, if you ain't got time to take a walk with me on my meat rack, then you can just get the hell outta my bread line").
Think I won't put my running shoes on for that request, but you'd have to be a vegetarian in a butcher shop to pass on this outstanding collection.
This three-piece from Vaaa Beeech must've been catching some Rip Van Winkles under a tree since Two-Triple Zero, for I wasn't aware of the 'Sleepers' bedside manner until several weeks ago. My pal jOhn A. tossed me their EP like an illegal Frisbee on the Oceanfront sand. Fortunately, the pedal-pushing policewoman only gave jOhn a warning, thus allowing me to keep the flying disc. I won't be throwing this well-rounded object into File 13 anytime soon. Wham-O! Retro-modern (oxymoron is necessary for differentiation) rock that's very much like the kind Dave Kendall used to roll on "120 Minutes." The 'Sleepers would've awakened the Boston-area Em Tee Vee viewership had they napped in the late-80's, as they remind this sheep counter of pleasant dreams from the Lemonheads/Pixies/Buffalo Tom triumvirate. Amplified acoustics ("Glue And Feathers" and "Vanished Cage"), buzzy-guitar brawls ("Mae" and "Almost Always") and garage grunge ("House On The Hill" and "Wait A Minute") comfort the listener like a bed of nails from Mattress Discounters. Sharp! Have a good night sleep on them.
