I was gonna give a little spiel here about ugly pretty and all the wonder to be found in the base assessments of the human condition as co-opted and redefined as tiny daggers etching your great (if not grave) fortune in glass before a merry cloth of minstrels and all is good and all is bright because when the meek inherited the earth it was a blight and so the real Promethean motherfuckers had to step in (crows sucking livers and tow) and make things just right enough to dissuade the singularity another day. But you don’t need to hear that right now. You’ve got work to do, yeah? Forts to build, hearts to heal and so on and so forth? I don’t know what you do, I admit. I don’t do much, myself, but burn lead and count quarrels all day but what I am when I’m not here is a supreme insignificance. A moot point. I’m just saying because I like to say but we’ll have time for that exposition some other precious hour because, right now, we’ve got the brass ring of DC to swallow so ready that gag reflex, kittens. This one’s a clam doozy. Rockit.
“WNTKK (Hula Hoop Homeboys)” from Split 12″ w/ THE…(NOBODY)
Whatever, man…synth punk is the sexxxiest kill jam in town. I mean, it was back when the kids down in SD (etc. but my heart stands with ThreeOneG and the long lost Gold Standard Labs) were slitting their wrists with Moog wires and getting ripped as fuck on Hot Rod Todd’s man funk Valencia fiasco but now when you see a synth you know it means post prog or Norway or boy/girl whinny whining underpants tears or some such precious bullshit and then you have Hot Nerds and I’m a dick for not lapping at the crazy future they recently spat about phallic dicks or something but, whateva playa…this is a panty-quaking freakout to all the lost fucking time and I love it more than Mr. Carl has ever loved Older Women Rock and Roll Vol. 2 or ever will.
“Run Into Knives” from Open the Coffin
Whenever I come across a band portrayed as blackened, pitch or unrepentant amoral nightmare cum fuel, I always worry that I’m stumbling either into a world of NSBM or total ironic bullshit and either way y’all can go to fuck. So, I’ve done a bit of droogling and it appears that these Same-Sex Dictatorial maniacs are neither supremacists nor smug little MFA pissants and so I accept their glass tornado with aplomb and a certain unwavering fear that one day my brain will break in such a way that it can only ever make complete and total sense to burn everything I own, piece by piece, honor by horror by fetish by hope until all of me is consumed in a glorious cloud of suffocation and, when I’m dead, the rats will be the first to tempt my lips before the Worm.
Nora and the Janitors
“Lindsay” from Feral Daughter
Rock and roll over? Sure? Let’s crank the amps to fuckteen and lap the sweat of Jonny-Jon’s bellbottoms (not for the funk but the freak scene) until the cows cum thorns and then we’ll all have fresh guilt for the morning. Sound good? Well, it shouldn’t. It should sound like shit because shit is legit or maybe I’m thinking of all that old cat food tin in the fridge. Either way this is some choice bone skin craze straight outta Boise, cranked LIVE as fuck and kinda mean and more than a little ugly if not wholly unhinged which is just the way Nora likes it on stage which is funny because on straight wax this band strikes a perfect balance between My Dad Is Dead and anything Jonathan Richman.