Even though Weston WAS kind of on to something with the “corporate” thing even though one would be hard-pressed to cry “SELLOUT!” at an Aussie band touring on their latest Ecstatic Peace release let alone, five years or so on, when they’re dropping a record called WACO via SideOneDummy because Weston and I both came of age in the 90s when Kurt (or Kurdt) Cobain reigned supreme as the yellow king and the madness for authenticity his success fomented in us, his (unwanted) subjects, led to a furious contempt for any who might threaten to steal the airwaves with formulaic angst, professionally produced on the fat backs of the wet cats running the major label cultural subterfuge and goddamn if Violent Soho doesn’t sound JUST like the bands we loved to hate openly but loved to feature on repurposed Maxell 120 Minute (that show broke ALL the rules) mixtapes between Fat Wreck, LookOut, Kill Rock Stars and Epitaph comp deep cuts and, of course, the immortal Sub Pop 100 to prove to girls we wanted to think we were the coolest fat kids in the afterschool theater troop (and therefore clever enough to be kissable) because we could recognize the temporal integrity of popular music with a Chomsky wink and bullshit deflector by strategically placing its hollow respite between unknowable anti-hits and unlistenable bullshit.
Goddamn, that was a messy time.
But I’m kind of glad Violent Soho reminded and reminds me of all that nonsensical pissanthropy because sometimes my ears need some clearance. Retuning, I guess. Sometimes I need to hear a rock band that sounds like a rock band riding high or, at least, adequate on a co-opted sound that used to mean so much to me its fucking embarrassing because, honestly, these days I could give a fuck about grunge or her middling sincerity kin.
I’m just down for whatever (almost) and WACO accommodates that comforted ambivalence perfectly.
1. How To Taste
4. So Sentimental
5. Like Soda
6. No Shade
7. Slow Wave
9. Holy Cave