Kim Shattuck’s voice was the prettiest fuck you in three-chord rocknroll history. News of her death from complications related to ALS was a sad shock, but it made for lightened moments when people on social media said they were “bumping The Muffs all day.” The Muffs have a new record called No Holidays coming out on October 18.
Here are a few things that can temporarily overcome the giant sucking sound of humanity’s last gasps.
Jumpstarted Plowhards – Round One (Recess Records)
Todd Congelliere plays guitar and yelps for Toys That Kill, and Mike Watt is a bass-playing punk-rock legend who first rumbled in the Punk Big Bang year of 1977. They both live in the old port town of San Pedro, California, which is the part of Los Angeles County that has been least touched by chain restaurants, Whole Foods, and people who would think Descendents’ “Suburban Home” sounds like a good idea. One is a middle-aged scene vet of a sort of snotty SoCal skate-garage-punk (that we still blame for getting us a speeding ticket once “But it’s drive fast music, officer!”) and the other is the wisest, funkiest (he flies a DIY freak flag made of flannel), and most genuine guy living who has seen a million faces and made them all want to pogo like fucking corndogs. Cool combo.
Watt sent Congelliere some bass tracks, and the former pro skater called up a bunch of drummers and threw down some guitar and vocals himself. Eight kick-ass rumblers taking up 18 minutes is the result.
Congelliere, who’s cultivated his own unique sound over 25-or-so years of playing and touring, returns Watt’s low-end volleys with sharp riff runs and catchy hook notes (hookin’ that bass!). Watt’s running, bobbin’ and weavin’ and bursting unexpected notes. A good, bumpy ride. Workin’ the thud stick, is what Watt calls it.
If lesser men were in front, then a record with a different drummer on each track could easily be a mess, but Watt’s basslines, or perhaps everyone’s subconscious memories of George Hurley’s greatness slapping songs around for the Minutemen, inspire amazing, but hard as fuck, loose jazz from each skin smacker. Similar rhythmic themes with cool flourishes of individual style.
For boss-level punkness, play the album before you read who drums on each track, and see if you can hear which song Hurley plays on. If you get it right, you should earn a free well gin and tonic at your local dive bar. Show them this blog to redeem your beverage.
Couple words about a couple tracks: “Commie Klara,” jumps like a Mick Jones-penned jam from The Clash has spent a week tagging in the Sunken City area of San Pedro, and Jerry Trebotic (who plays in the Watt projects The Jom and Terry Show, and The Secondmen) is naturally a notch tighter in step with Watt than the other drummers, and just dances on his cymbals.
“Claws Break Down” is one of Todd’s classic three note hypnotism tricks that bursts into bigger sounds. Patty Schemel of Hole fame stays loose as this one rises and falls like one of those old roller coasters that chips your teeth on the safety bar.
“Babylon Gone” finishes the short album by chugging n blasting while Congelliere’s chanting, then the booming burst goes tripping out around Watt’s bass melody before building to a yell that will remind anyone who’s seen him in the last 35 years of that pure art-is-power roaring command he ends every concert with, “Start your own band!”
Put it on on your way to the market, and listen to it again on the way back. Can’t wait to feel this live.
King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard – Infest the Rats’ Nest (Flightless Records)
These prolific Aussie trippers have gone metal, and thank fucking Dio!
There’s a dude down by the pier in every beach town who plays classic Sabbath and 80s metal through a Peavy practice amp and who’s been known to rip into a passable version of “Eruption” when someone slips him a dollar. That dude wrote this album.
The drums on “Venusian 2” sound like the drums on Motorhead’s “Overkill” (the drums which all other drums bow down to) and that 2 does indeed mean there are two songs about exploring Venus on this wild interplanetary dystopia. “Mars For The Rich” deals with the coming inequality in space colonization. You read that correctly. Futuristic socially woke sci-fi with a slapping bass solo – yes, you can have it all, Beavis.
Everything from flashy thrash to doped-down boogie to wildman rawk board the ship for topics like organ farming, antibiotic-resistant bacteria (not fast, but you’ll still have the urge to headbang to “Superbug”), and self-immolation. And like every heavy metal journey should, it ends in hell (with a song called “Hell”).
So what if this is a band whose massive back catalogue’s heaviest feature is some vanilla psych rock, they’ve made a loose, fun, slightly crusted, power metal banger.
Their next record will probably be some Scandanavian folk blues, so enjoy this super dope nugget as the rare thing it is and play it at the highest of high volumes.
Redd Kross – Beyond the Door (Merge Records)
Once part of SoCal’s early wave of punk rock, Redd Kross long ago dialed it down, and now they have a new album with groovy vocal harmonies and fun little guitar parts that nobody will mistake for punk. That’s ok, and this record is mostly ok with parts that will get stuck in your head.
“The Party” starts things off, sounding like some old-timey radio jingle with guitars that could mix a Mai Tai. “Beyond the Door” has one of those up-then-down vocal melodies that bounces itself into what’s left of the happy parts of your brain, which will be bobbing along to Steven McDonald’s cruiser bassline, and then the piano tinkles it all around, and the “whoa oh oh’s” in the back stick the landing in Pleasant Song Land. Jeff McDonald’s kid can always score. Well, that’s what he sings on “No One Like You,” which is a tribute to his son that includes zero details about what makes that kid unique, except that ability to always score, so way to go, young player!
The record is full of kooky little freak outs and often has the vibe of a weird kids show soundtrack, with Mai Tais. Tumble on the mat to songs like “Ice Cream (Strange and Pleasing)” and “Fantastico Roberto”!
It’s brimming with joyful rock dorkiness, and dollops of that SoCal sunshined alt-pop rock n roll that seems to happen when old punks get out of the bars and start hanging out near the palm trees by the playgrounds. We don’t have kids, but if we did, we’d totally have singalongs with them to Beyond the Door in our crossover SUV.
Redd Kross will be rocking the absolute fuck out of Gymborees with bassist Steve McDonald’s other band, Melvins, who should be your four-year-old’s favorite band, this autumn. Check your local listings.
If you’ve made it this far, you might have the attention span for a whole book about music. John Doe of X has one for you. Well, he gets his name on the cover, but it’s a compilation of stories written by LA bands, actors, and scenesters of the first half of the Reagan-Bush decade. We’re only halfway through but already we’ve learned that The Go-Gos were told they party too hard by Rod Stewart, and that Jane Wiedlin shoved smack up her ass. There’s also been an extremely funny take on being a punk rocker who’s just famous enough to get noticed once in a while by TSOL’s Jack Grisham. We also learn that Tim Robbins’ Fishbone shirt in Bull Durham was probably his idea, because his chapter in the book is of seeing shows with line-ups that make our ears ring with envy.
The tales are called More Fun in the New World.
And now we go back to bumping The Muffs for the rest of the week.
RIP Kim Shattuck