For a lot of fans who tracked Good Riddance's rise from the Santa Barbara, Calif. punk world to its position as undisputed melodic-hardcore kings in the early '00s, the band's almost a force of nature. Mixing idealist, left-leaning lyrics, sizzingly heavy guitars and enough melody to sweeten both up, Good Riddance seemed to come out of nowhere with 1995's For God And Country to rule the edge hardcore world for nearly a decade and a half.
The truth is, the band didn't come out of nowhere, but just percolated on tiny regional labels as it perfected its sound on a bunch of splits and EPs. Now, with Good Riddance officially a done deal, the band dips back into its vaults and brings those early-days recordings to the surface. It also grabs a few other B-sides and rarities to fatten out the 21-track collection. If Capricorn One stands for anything, it's to remind us that Good Riddance didn't spring fully grown from Zeus' head, but spent years honing its craft in obscurity.
Longtime fans will enjoy watching as Good Riddance feels out its sound on early 7-inch singles, slowly morphing from another generic hardcore outfit into one whose chops and lyrical prowess were so difficult for its peers to match. That pretty much ensures that some of the tunes on the album aren't quite up to the standard Good Riddance would establish by its second album: "Class War 2000" juggles the mouthful of long-outdated fiscal policies like Reganomics and choppy, basic hardcore riffs. "Free" flogs the same ground musically, while singer Russ Rankin mixes his metaphors and targets, lashing out at pro-life activists and (sigh) the police as arms of the same sort of repressive culture. It's a little naïve, it paints in broad strokes, but it's still a good time out.
An early version of "Last Believer" gives fans the best glimpse at the burgeoning powerhouse Good Riddance would become. A slower, more restrained version than the sizzling cut on 1996's A Comprehensive Guide to Moderne Rebellion (Fat), holding it up against the album version is the most clear-cut example of how much the band grew: Capricorn One's version is lifeless and listless compared to the second take. Other songs showcase the band as it begins to hit its stride: There's a "Guilty of Being White" retread in "Me from Adam" that's slightly more than regurgitated Minor Threat, "Patriarch" is a scowling condemnation of American traditions and "Great Experiment," written during the sessions for 2006's My Republic, catches the band stretching its boundaries almost past breaking.
Capricorn One, like just about every other rarities collection by just about every other band, isn't nearly as good as a studio effort. That's to be expected. For a band like Good Riddance that thrived on honesty and openness, getting these old tunes to the fans is poetic: There's no secrets as Good Riddance goes to its grave. Hardcore warriors have to start somewhere, and on this album you'll see where Good Riddance got its start. The climb to greatness doesn't seem quite as steep now, does it? Now get off the computer and go start your own band.
Showing posts with label Punk Rock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Punk Rock. Show all posts
Alkaline Trio - This Addiction
This Addiction was promoted as a return to roots for the Alkaline Trio, no doubt as a ploy to bait old fans who have been waiting over ten years for the second coming of Goddamnit! With Matt Allison (the producer responsible for most of the band's earliest work) manning the boards and new label Epitaph footing the bill, things looked promising. The lead single and title track was a great start, and showed itself to be close to a return to form, with its blazing surge of guitars and slightly vintage feel (traces of "My Friend Peter" can be heard), and it seemed to reveal a band with something to prove. However, the deeper you get into This Addiction the more apparent it becomes that the model for their punk past must be From Here to Infirmary (not the heralded classic Goddamnit!), since the end result is still the same polished album full of vaguely gothic and bloody references where characters like Draculina live — no real bitterness, sore-throat defiance, or endearing heartache to be found. Despite their efforts to convince listeners otherwise, Alkaline Trio just can't seem to recapture the spirit of their early days, when purpose and emotion fueled every note. Instead, one is left with totally competent — and at times, yes, catchy — songs that ring just a bit too hollow compared to the urgent leave-it-all-on-the-floor guts of those earliest releases. Once the listener gets past the initial bait and switch, This Addiction takes a few spins to sink in, but when it does, several tracks do stick out of the bunch, the title track and "Off the Map" being some of the strongest. Dan Andriano has a solid showing, but with only three songs compared to Matt Skiba's eight, it would have been nice to hear him more, especially since Skiba's lyrics leave much to be desired. So despite the polished and punchy singalong choruses, This Addiction is really just more of the same recycled melodies from the Trio rather than any sort of rebirth. Those who have been enjoying what the Alkaline Trio have been releasing for the better part of the 2000s will love This Addiction all the same, but everyone else who still clings to hope of the band reclaiming its former fury may finally just throw up their hands and move on.
Solution to Sold Out Acts - Punk Rock and its British Explosion
Johnny Rotten LOOKS bored. The emphasis is on the work 'looks' rather than, as Johnny would have you believe, on the word 'bored'. His clothes, held together by safety pins, fall around his slack body in calculated disarray. His face is an undernourished grey. Not a muscle moves. His lips echo the downward slope of his wiry, coat-hangered shoulders. Only his eyes, register the faintest trace of life.
Johnny works very hard at looking bored. Leaning against a bar; at a sound check; after a gig; making an entrance to a party; onstage; when he's with women. No, actually, then he's inclined to look quite interested.
Why is Johnny bored? Well, that's the story.
This malevolent third-generation child of rock'n'roll is the Sex Pistols' lead singer. The band plays exciting, hard, basic punk rock. But more than that, Johnny is the elected generalissimo of a new cultural movement scything through the grassroots disenchantment with the present state of mainstream rock. You need look no further than the letters pages of any Melody Maker to see that fans no longer silently accept the disdain with which their heroes, the rock giants, treat them.
They feel deserted. Millionaire rock stars are no longer part of the brotherly rock fraternity that help create them in the first place. Rock was meant to be a joyous celebration; the inability to see the starts, or to play the music of those you can see, is making a whole generation of rock fans feel deepressingly inadequate.
Enter Johnny Rotten. Not content to feel frustrated, bored and betrayed, he and the Sex Pistols - Glen Matlock, Paul Cook and Steve Jones - have decided to ignore what they believe to be the elitist pretensions of their heroes, who no longer play the music they want to hear. They are the tip of an iceberg.
Since January, when the Sex Pistols played their first gig, there has been a slow but steady increase in the number of musicians who feel the same way - bands like the Clash, the Jam, Buzzcocks, the Damned, the Surburban Sect and Slaughter and the Dogs. The music they play is load, raucous and beyond considerations of taste and finesse. As Mick Jones of the Clash says, "It's wonderfully vital. Their attitude is classic punk: icy-cool with a permanent sneer. The kids are arrogant, aggressive, rebellious. The last thing any of these bands make their audience feel is inadequate. Once again there is the feeling, the exhilarating buzz, that it's possible to be and play like the bands onstage.
It's no coincedence that the week the Stones were at Earls Court, the Sex Pistols were playing to their ever-increasing following at London's 100 Club. The Pistols are the personification of the emerging British punk rock scene, a positive reaction to the complex equipment, technological sophistication and jaded alienation which has formed a barrier between fans and stars.
Punk rock sounds simple and callow. It's meant to. The equipment is minimal, usually cheap. It's played faster than the speed of light. If the musicians play a ballad, it's the fastest ballad on earth. The chords are basic, numbers rarely last longer than three minutes, in keeping with the clipped, biting cynicism of the lyrics. There are no solos. No indulgent improvisations.
It's a fallacy to believe that punk rockers like the Sex Pistols can't play dynamic music. They power through sets. They are never less than hard, rough and edgy. They are the quintessence of a raging, primal rock-scream.
The atmosphere among the punky bands on the circuit at the moment is positively cut-throat. Not only are they vying with each other, but they all secretly aspire to take Johnny Rotten down a peg or two. They use him as a pivot against which they can assess their own credibility.
It the BSP/ASP Syndrome. The Before or After Sex Pistols debate which wrangles thus: 'We saw Johnny Rotten and he CHANGED our attitude to music' (The Clash, Buzzcocks) or 'We played like this AGES before the Sex Pistols' (Slaughter and the Dogs) or 'We are MILES better than the Sex Pistols' (the Damned). They are very aware that they are part of a new movement and each one wants to feel that he played a part in starting it.
All doubts that the British punk scene was well under way were blitzed two weeks ago in Manchester, when the Sex Pistols headlined a triple third-generation punk rock concert before an ecstatic capacity audience.
Participation is the operative word. The audiences are revelling in the idea that any one of them could get up on stage and do just as well, if not better, than the bands already up there. Which is, after all, what rock and roll is all about.
When, for months, you've been feeling that it would take ten years to play as well as Hendrix, Clapton, Richard (insert favourite rock star's name), there's nothing more gratifying than the thought, 'Jesus, I could get a band together and blow this lot off the stage.'
The growing punk rock audiences are seething with angry young dreamers who want to put the boot in and play music, regardless. And the more people feel that 'I can do that too', the more there is a rush on to that stage, the more cheap instruments are bought, fingered and flayed in front rooms, the more likely it is there will be the rock revival we've all been crying out for.
There's every chance (although it's early days yet) that out of the gloriously raucous, uninhibited melee of British Punk Rock - which even at its worst is move vital than much of the music perfected by the Platinum Disc Brigade - will emerge the musicians to inspire a fourth generation of rockers.
The arrogant, aggressive, rebellious stance that characterises the musicians who have played the most vital rock and roll has always been glamourised. In the 50s it was the rebel without a cause exemplified by Elvis and Gene Vincent, the Marlon Brando and James Dean of rock. In the 60s it was the Rock'n'Roll Gypsy Outlaw image of Mick Jagger, Keith Richard and Jimi Hendrix. In the 70s the word 'rebel' has been superseded by the word 'punk'. Although initially derogatory, it now contains all the glamorous connotations once implied by the overused word 'rebel'.
Punk rock was initially coined, about six years ago, to describe the American rock bands of 1965-68 who sprung up as a result of hearing the Yardbirds, the Who, Them, the Stones. Ability was not as important as mad enthusiasm, but the bands usually dissipated all their talent in one or two splendid singles which rarely transcended local hit status. Some of the songs, however, like 'Wooly Bully', '96 Tears', Psychotic Reaction', 'Pushin' Too Hard', have become rock classics.
In Britain, as 'punk rock' has been increasingly used to categorise the livid, exciting energy of bands like the Sex Pistols, there has been an attempt to redefine the term. There's an age difference, too. New York punks are mostly in their mid-twenties. The members of the new British punk bands squirm if they have to tell you that they are over 18. Johnny Rotten's favourite sneer is 'You're Too Old'. He's 20.
The British punk rock garb is developing independently, too. It's an ingenious hodgepodge of jumble sale cast-offs, safety-pinned around one of the choice risque T-shirts especially made for the Kings Road shop, Sex.
Selling an intruiging line of arcane 50s cruise-ware, fantasy glamour ware and the odd rubber suit, this unique boutique is owned by Malcolm McLaren, ex-manager of the New York Dolls, now the Sex Pistols' manager.
His shop has a mysterious atmosphere which made it the ideal meeting place for a loose crowd of truant, disaffected teenagers. Three of them were aspiring musicians who, last October, persuaded McLaren to take them on. They wanted to play rock'n'roll. They weren't to know what they were about to start and even now no one is sure where it will lead. All Steve, Glenn and Paul needed, then, was a lead singer.
A few weeks later, Johnny Rotten strayed into the same murky interior. He was first spotted leaning over the jukebox... looking BORED.
Johnny works very hard at looking bored. Leaning against a bar; at a sound check; after a gig; making an entrance to a party; onstage; when he's with women. No, actually, then he's inclined to look quite interested.
Why is Johnny bored? Well, that's the story.
This malevolent third-generation child of rock'n'roll is the Sex Pistols' lead singer. The band plays exciting, hard, basic punk rock. But more than that, Johnny is the elected generalissimo of a new cultural movement scything through the grassroots disenchantment with the present state of mainstream rock. You need look no further than the letters pages of any Melody Maker to see that fans no longer silently accept the disdain with which their heroes, the rock giants, treat them.
They feel deserted. Millionaire rock stars are no longer part of the brotherly rock fraternity that help create them in the first place. Rock was meant to be a joyous celebration; the inability to see the starts, or to play the music of those you can see, is making a whole generation of rock fans feel deepressingly inadequate.
Enter Johnny Rotten. Not content to feel frustrated, bored and betrayed, he and the Sex Pistols - Glen Matlock, Paul Cook and Steve Jones - have decided to ignore what they believe to be the elitist pretensions of their heroes, who no longer play the music they want to hear. They are the tip of an iceberg.
Since January, when the Sex Pistols played their first gig, there has been a slow but steady increase in the number of musicians who feel the same way - bands like the Clash, the Jam, Buzzcocks, the Damned, the Surburban Sect and Slaughter and the Dogs. The music they play is load, raucous and beyond considerations of taste and finesse. As Mick Jones of the Clash says, "It's wonderfully vital. Their attitude is classic punk: icy-cool with a permanent sneer. The kids are arrogant, aggressive, rebellious. The last thing any of these bands make their audience feel is inadequate. Once again there is the feeling, the exhilarating buzz, that it's possible to be and play like the bands onstage.
It's no coincedence that the week the Stones were at Earls Court, the Sex Pistols were playing to their ever-increasing following at London's 100 Club. The Pistols are the personification of the emerging British punk rock scene, a positive reaction to the complex equipment, technological sophistication and jaded alienation which has formed a barrier between fans and stars.
Punk rock sounds simple and callow. It's meant to. The equipment is minimal, usually cheap. It's played faster than the speed of light. If the musicians play a ballad, it's the fastest ballad on earth. The chords are basic, numbers rarely last longer than three minutes, in keeping with the clipped, biting cynicism of the lyrics. There are no solos. No indulgent improvisations.
It's a fallacy to believe that punk rockers like the Sex Pistols can't play dynamic music. They power through sets. They are never less than hard, rough and edgy. They are the quintessence of a raging, primal rock-scream.
The atmosphere among the punky bands on the circuit at the moment is positively cut-throat. Not only are they vying with each other, but they all secretly aspire to take Johnny Rotten down a peg or two. They use him as a pivot against which they can assess their own credibility.
It the BSP/ASP Syndrome. The Before or After Sex Pistols debate which wrangles thus: 'We saw Johnny Rotten and he CHANGED our attitude to music' (The Clash, Buzzcocks) or 'We played like this AGES before the Sex Pistols' (Slaughter and the Dogs) or 'We are MILES better than the Sex Pistols' (the Damned). They are very aware that they are part of a new movement and each one wants to feel that he played a part in starting it.
All doubts that the British punk scene was well under way were blitzed two weeks ago in Manchester, when the Sex Pistols headlined a triple third-generation punk rock concert before an ecstatic capacity audience.
Participation is the operative word. The audiences are revelling in the idea that any one of them could get up on stage and do just as well, if not better, than the bands already up there. Which is, after all, what rock and roll is all about.
When, for months, you've been feeling that it would take ten years to play as well as Hendrix, Clapton, Richard (insert favourite rock star's name), there's nothing more gratifying than the thought, 'Jesus, I could get a band together and blow this lot off the stage.'
The growing punk rock audiences are seething with angry young dreamers who want to put the boot in and play music, regardless. And the more people feel that 'I can do that too', the more there is a rush on to that stage, the more cheap instruments are bought, fingered and flayed in front rooms, the more likely it is there will be the rock revival we've all been crying out for.
There's every chance (although it's early days yet) that out of the gloriously raucous, uninhibited melee of British Punk Rock - which even at its worst is move vital than much of the music perfected by the Platinum Disc Brigade - will emerge the musicians to inspire a fourth generation of rockers.
The arrogant, aggressive, rebellious stance that characterises the musicians who have played the most vital rock and roll has always been glamourised. In the 50s it was the rebel without a cause exemplified by Elvis and Gene Vincent, the Marlon Brando and James Dean of rock. In the 60s it was the Rock'n'Roll Gypsy Outlaw image of Mick Jagger, Keith Richard and Jimi Hendrix. In the 70s the word 'rebel' has been superseded by the word 'punk'. Although initially derogatory, it now contains all the glamorous connotations once implied by the overused word 'rebel'.
Punk rock was initially coined, about six years ago, to describe the American rock bands of 1965-68 who sprung up as a result of hearing the Yardbirds, the Who, Them, the Stones. Ability was not as important as mad enthusiasm, but the bands usually dissipated all their talent in one or two splendid singles which rarely transcended local hit status. Some of the songs, however, like 'Wooly Bully', '96 Tears', Psychotic Reaction', 'Pushin' Too Hard', have become rock classics.
In Britain, as 'punk rock' has been increasingly used to categorise the livid, exciting energy of bands like the Sex Pistols, there has been an attempt to redefine the term. There's an age difference, too. New York punks are mostly in their mid-twenties. The members of the new British punk bands squirm if they have to tell you that they are over 18. Johnny Rotten's favourite sneer is 'You're Too Old'. He's 20.
The British punk rock garb is developing independently, too. It's an ingenious hodgepodge of jumble sale cast-offs, safety-pinned around one of the choice risque T-shirts especially made for the Kings Road shop, Sex.
Selling an intruiging line of arcane 50s cruise-ware, fantasy glamour ware and the odd rubber suit, this unique boutique is owned by Malcolm McLaren, ex-manager of the New York Dolls, now the Sex Pistols' manager.
His shop has a mysterious atmosphere which made it the ideal meeting place for a loose crowd of truant, disaffected teenagers. Three of them were aspiring musicians who, last October, persuaded McLaren to take them on. They wanted to play rock'n'roll. They weren't to know what they were about to start and even now no one is sure where it will lead. All Steve, Glenn and Paul needed, then, was a lead singer.
A few weeks later, Johnny Rotten strayed into the same murky interior. He was first spotted leaning over the jukebox... looking BORED.
18 November 2009
Comments: (0)Labels: 70s, Buzzcocks, Dire Straits, Johnny Rotten, Punk, Punk Rock, Slaughter and the Dogs, The Clash, The Damned, The Jam, The Sex Pistols
NOFX - Coaster
So, punk is dead is it? Not of as 2009. Over the last 20 years we saw the rise and fall or rock as we know, from the initial grunge and garage rock in Seattle, stimulated by Kurt Cobain and his individual punk view.
Cobain combined his newly found punk rock views with his childhood influences of Neil Young and Leadbeddy to lead the revival of rock from the pop and dance of the 80s.
NOFX seems to come out of this era and produced some real solid punk rock riffs even after the greats in the 70s. Short, sharp, fast and sweet with strange nicknames like most punk rockers, led by Fat Mike, they produced one of my favourite albums of the last 25 years – Punk in Drublic.
Nowadays, in their 40s they still have the same energy and vigor although their intensity has diminished yet they still know how to produce a fucking rocking album.
Coaster begins with We Called It America and followed by The Quitter of which both have a high intensity rhythm and pretty convincing lyrics. The album works really well as the opening 2 songs follow through and work as one whole opening title – with the lyrics ‘You wanna be a winner? You gotta quit thinking about quitting’ making a great firing up song.
After some slower (you know it was coming) tracks we get to Blasphemy with a great catchy riff and faster to get those heads banging and legs jumping. Moving on, we reach Creeping Out Sara, with comical lyrics on Tegan and Sara.
Back with the faced paced music and good riffs mixed with the punk-inspired solos Eddie, Bruce and Paul and Best God in Show is catchy and reminds me too much of a poo song but rebounds with it reggae beats – every NOFX has something foreign.
Don’t forget the jazz guitar and trumpet in I Am An Alcoholic to move back to their weird humourous fillers and ends with One Million Coasters, a great finale with strange comparisons yet gets me jiggy with the retro references.
Rock on NOFX!
7.5/10
Cobain combined his newly found punk rock views with his childhood influences of Neil Young and Leadbeddy to lead the revival of rock from the pop and dance of the 80s.
NOFX seems to come out of this era and produced some real solid punk rock riffs even after the greats in the 70s. Short, sharp, fast and sweet with strange nicknames like most punk rockers, led by Fat Mike, they produced one of my favourite albums of the last 25 years – Punk in Drublic.
Nowadays, in their 40s they still have the same energy and vigor although their intensity has diminished yet they still know how to produce a fucking rocking album.
Coaster begins with We Called It America and followed by The Quitter of which both have a high intensity rhythm and pretty convincing lyrics. The album works really well as the opening 2 songs follow through and work as one whole opening title – with the lyrics ‘You wanna be a winner? You gotta quit thinking about quitting’ making a great firing up song.
After some slower (you know it was coming) tracks we get to Blasphemy with a great catchy riff and faster to get those heads banging and legs jumping. Moving on, we reach Creeping Out Sara, with comical lyrics on Tegan and Sara.
Back with the faced paced music and good riffs mixed with the punk-inspired solos Eddie, Bruce and Paul and Best God in Show is catchy and reminds me too much of a poo song but rebounds with it reggae beats – every NOFX has something foreign.
Don’t forget the jazz guitar and trumpet in I Am An Alcoholic to move back to their weird humourous fillers and ends with One Million Coasters, a great finale with strange comparisons yet gets me jiggy with the retro references.
Rock on NOFX!
7.5/10
20 October 2009
Comments: (0)Labels: Fall of Rock, Fat Mike, Garage Rock, Grunge Rock, Kurt Cobain, Nirvana, NOFX, Pop-Punk, Punk Rock, Seattle Music Scene
More anger
Alright. i’m back. With a vengeance.
No seriously, when i say punk what do think of? Leather. Long messy disgusting hair. Drugs. Sex. Fuck. Sex Pistols. And the like. Not today’s modern culture.
I just recently went out to NOFX and their gig out at Hordern Pavillion in Sydney finally waiting for them to come out after 2006. After witnessing Jane’s Addiction earlier in the year with the original Nothing’s Shocking line up I was not disappointed by Fat Mike and the crew. Entralling and outrageous with many hits from their new record Coaster, which I am looking at reviewing soon so keep watching, they produced a great performance and played many great hits from the past.
NOFX was one of those bands who were able to brink back rock after its so called demise in the 90s due to the chaos and fucking up era of grunge and garage rock. They did what punk did in the 70s (both in the USA and UK) – make it simple because they could play complicated stuff and play it double time with overdriven guitar and being there writing music to make a point – with your lyrics.
So, that’s the prime basis of punk and being able to say FUCK YOU! To anyone and everyone. However, as I mention punk to my friends one of them said, ‘I love punk. Green Day is awesome!’
Rookie.
Green Day for anybody out there saying it is punk IS NOT PUNK.
Remember, to be PUNK you don’t have to dress punk and play punk music but you can’t be PUNK just because you look PUNK. Punk was a movement in the 70s and it was about rebelling to everyone, in particular ‘the pigs’ and ‘the government’. Green Day don’t. If anything, they used to be pop-punk 10 years ago but now of couse they succumbed to labels and money and went shit. Not many bands don’t change after this. If any. Well there are some but you’d
need to find them yourself.
So, my angts against this whole thing will never stop but until another moment like today happens i’m gonna take a break from ranting at the youth and their bad education.
Watch soon.
NOFX – Coaster review coming soon (when I analyse it enough)
No seriously, when i say punk what do think of? Leather. Long messy disgusting hair. Drugs. Sex. Fuck. Sex Pistols. And the like. Not today’s modern culture.
I just recently went out to NOFX and their gig out at Hordern Pavillion in Sydney finally waiting for them to come out after 2006. After witnessing Jane’s Addiction earlier in the year with the original Nothing’s Shocking line up I was not disappointed by Fat Mike and the crew. Entralling and outrageous with many hits from their new record Coaster, which I am looking at reviewing soon so keep watching, they produced a great performance and played many great hits from the past.
NOFX was one of those bands who were able to brink back rock after its so called demise in the 90s due to the chaos and fucking up era of grunge and garage rock. They did what punk did in the 70s (both in the USA and UK) – make it simple because they could play complicated stuff and play it double time with overdriven guitar and being there writing music to make a point – with your lyrics.
So, that’s the prime basis of punk and being able to say FUCK YOU! To anyone and everyone. However, as I mention punk to my friends one of them said, ‘I love punk. Green Day is awesome!’
Rookie.
Green Day for anybody out there saying it is punk IS NOT PUNK.
Remember, to be PUNK you don’t have to dress punk and play punk music but you can’t be PUNK just because you look PUNK. Punk was a movement in the 70s and it was about rebelling to everyone, in particular ‘the pigs’ and ‘the government’. Green Day don’t. If anything, they used to be pop-punk 10 years ago but now of couse they succumbed to labels and money and went shit. Not many bands don’t change after this. If any. Well there are some but you’d
need to find them yourself.
So, my angts against this whole thing will never stop but until another moment like today happens i’m gonna take a break from ranting at the youth and their bad education.
Watch soon.
NOFX – Coaster review coming soon (when I analyse it enough)
Comments: (0)
Labels: Categorisation, Green Day, Music Education, NOFX, Pop-Punk, Popular Culture, Punk Rock, Youth
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