Musick Reviews - AUG. 26, 2008

Okay here’s me trying to play catch up with the mail that I had received during my short 3 state – 3 year excursion.Between mail being forwarded from one p.o. box to the other I’m sure some shit got lost in the mail, misplaced in a move or lifted from my car or “borrowed”and never returned. I don’t really like calling these reviews as I’m sure that most people will find the narrative and points of reference pretty fucking useless.

TWO MAN ADVANTAGE/SUPREME COMMANDER split 7” (Basement Records, PO Box 511, La Habra, CA 90633-0511 USA)

www.basementrecords.net - NY puck punks Two Man Advantage return with two more hip checking, pogo in the pit friendly anthems. DC mofos Supreme Commander deliver the goods and give you three slabs of black dot era –esque Bad Brains fuesed with a bit of that post HC era of HC (does that even make sense) that was coming out NYHC around the time of ’89. Hard, fast, loud play this 7” at full volume. And if you need to get the digital version for your ipod and shit..welp, you bit the bullet. (7”)

THE RATFINKS “Detroit Fuckers” (Ratfinks, POB 359, Roseville, MI 48066) Solid oi!Ruck ‘n roll. Ratfinks start this disc of with the title track that has that shit kicker sound that made Oxblood’s Under The Boot 7” such a sweet disc back in it’s day. The tone flows into the second track “Fuck Ass”. The working class, boot boy ‘tude is present through out the 13 tracks. I love this shit. If I was to a scribble up “if you like these then listen to this” point of reference –think Subway Thugs, Oxblood fused with the sing a long oi-kaw that was turned out by the seminal American labels Vulture Rock and Headache Records. (cd)

Filthy 42s “Positively South Jersey” (Boot to Head Records, PO Box 9005, PDX, OR 97207) South Jersey’s Filthy 42s remind me a little of Social D, have bits of other Jersey bands that I remember, but that may be an embellishment on behalf of my ears. When the band plays loud,they’re fucking loud. Some of the aggro veers into a poppier (traditional rnr) place where I don’t care to dabble. Solid production and dare I say.. a little over produced. But that’s because I’m a bit biased, struck with tinnitus and prefer to have some shit in my cereal that posses some health risk or another.

v/a“Anti Disco League” (www.tkorecords.com)

Templar Phil compiles a who’s who of the current crop top scene. I know it
sounds like a cliché but there isn’t a week track on this one. A 16 track
global boot party. Fuckin A. BUY THIS!!! (cd)

more “reviews” to come later

Exit scenarios

Exit scenarios – so the interview is wonderful. A little unexpected but my gut was giving me a hint this morning. I shut off my intuitive side a decade and a half ago, as I was going mad when my bullshit detector wouldn’t stop ringing. I'd meet all these people..ding, ding, ding, all day long. It was maddening. I wanted to pretend it was a malfunction but time has taught me better.

Whewf, before I get too side tracked... Then they ask if I have any belongings in my office. They retrieve all my shit, which i kept simple. I didn't make the place my personal space. They get all my shit, bring it up to me, in order to prevent me from going postal. [I learned this at one of the "sensitivity" trainings that they sent me to. SO they have these exit meetings and emphasize that I not return to the building]. So I'm being let go as I'm not the go to guy. Which made me wonder a little, what makes them think I'd suddenly display the "get up and go mad" bug now?

As if I had that much ambition invested in an agency, ran by drones for people who will be sick and ill for as long as the state has dimes and beds to dish out. The mission statement is a bit muddied but they certainly better the lives of the needy by being condescending. They're all so darn fluffy and cute, each and every one the consumers. I wanna squeeze those bedbug infested cheeks and let out a loud "hoochie coo". Each weekly review meeting the room would be filled with canned "awws" "oohs and ahhs" the same sounds you'd get if you were playing Bambi for 7 yr olds. They treat 45 yr old grown men in the same manner that you'd deal with a 4th grade insubordinate (ever read that Judy Blume book?) A lady client steals a pocket book from a customer at a supermarket. She feels the pressure and ditches the belongings, but keeps the pocket book. Her explanation "I thought the bag was pretty." Ohh.. boy.. the room was yelping, awww.....butter being melted. You really have to love the industry.

Back to the "office" environment. Here, let me describe my joyous or is it joyless locale. A no window basement office, buried in the back of a fucking old converted house. Me, my personality surrounded by paper clip pushers who knew not to rock the boat and tow the line.

I played the game, faked the enthusiasm. I pretended to give a fuck, acted like I gave a shit at the appropriate times. I read the cues, played the role but apparently I wasn’t one of “them”.I made odd cultural references, didn't give a shit about American Idol and said so... I was...an antichirst..an anarchist.

I bore the brand that has long followed me around like a disease lurking beneath these layers of flesh. I didn’t buy this state of mind, didn’t buy into a lifestyle, hijack my insight. I thought like this before I ever knew what Punk Rock was. I had operation that placed a nice scar across my chest, and somewhere buried beneath my sternum the bullshit detector lays. It was my third eye, let me know how "they" perceive things, and they let me know I wasn't one of them. Oh well. Maybe the Buddhist argument is I am none of those things, I am all of those things. We are all of those things, we are nothing.

Things didn't go as planned. Oh well. The thing I most regret is not opening my mouth more. Letting the haphazardly know that I understand the plot has been laid out for the next bus to roll of the cliff. It's how things run, how things become billable.There's no point in being truthful when there's far too much money at stake. I feel bad for the doomed on the receiving end, they don't even know that they're being held down.

What ever the case might be, I’ve accepted what has been laid out before me, the road continues. The journey continues.. Melissa by my side and Sherman hopping along.. grazing on the homegrown cilantro. Here we go, three punks in a pod.