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New Releases For Sale/Distro Updates / Re: Christmas Island 12", Cowabunga Babes LP, Uzi Rash LP
« on: August 30, 2012, 03:20:52 AM »
Uzi Rash--I Was 30 in 2012 review right here on this site. I guess you turkeys approve. Scott and Rich, I owe you a bunch of other records for review (or not).
Max Nordile ? the Joe Cocker of chipped tooth punk - has bestowed upon us his umpteenth-millionth platter(s) full of line-up changes and phreak form jams. I swear to Christ this band must down a case of Tab, gnaw thru a bag of Red Vines and then proceed to blow out an LP every couple weeks. Not one, but two full lengths this time around. Their thirty or so odd fans rejoice. I?m in that gaggle of believers somewhere (number twenty-three, methinks) and though the Termbro review committee has never been too kind to the Rash, the times may be a? changing. They?ve stripped clean most of the folksier-communal vibes, barrel plinks and lo-fi beardo meanderings. Gone is the wonder of will a song ever start or in some cases, will it ever end. Stuff is still stewed, only now it?s been whittled down to a powerful creak & roll.
'I was 30 in 2012' (Volar Records) is what I?d imagine you?d get if Stanley J. Bingham and Co. actually gave two shits about what the review goons had to say around these parts. Reminded far too many times to cut the blubber off and just get to the goods. Think a ?best-of? type deal made from all those CDr?s littering Richie?s refuse bin. Only it?s not; this here is made up of brand new (now old) tunes. Synthesizer workouts that carry along through slap-pappy dirt-cakes of NW styled angular rock. The kind that owes all or nothing to The Fall and the Teasers. I honestly can?t tell. But instead of rehashing the rehash, it goes about scraping the taste buds off an art-punks puffy pink tongue with a plaque riddled microphone, leaving little fleshy bits behind. And when these little niblets are amplified, they sound like a sock drawer full of Sweet Rot 45?s playing at the wrong speed. The Cryptic Corporation would be damn proud. They screech and yelp and flop all about, honking like a jazz seizure in an animation fuck flick factory. It repels and leads to chafing, yet I need to come back for more. Caroliner Rainbow fits into the equation somehow as well, yet no one seems to have mentioned this in the past. Fools. Armed with quarts of blood?and a pocket full of kazoos.
Max Nordile ? the Joe Cocker of chipped tooth punk - has bestowed upon us his umpteenth-millionth platter(s) full of line-up changes and phreak form jams. I swear to Christ this band must down a case of Tab, gnaw thru a bag of Red Vines and then proceed to blow out an LP every couple weeks. Not one, but two full lengths this time around. Their thirty or so odd fans rejoice. I?m in that gaggle of believers somewhere (number twenty-three, methinks) and though the Termbro review committee has never been too kind to the Rash, the times may be a? changing. They?ve stripped clean most of the folksier-communal vibes, barrel plinks and lo-fi beardo meanderings. Gone is the wonder of will a song ever start or in some cases, will it ever end. Stuff is still stewed, only now it?s been whittled down to a powerful creak & roll.
'I was 30 in 2012' (Volar Records) is what I?d imagine you?d get if Stanley J. Bingham and Co. actually gave two shits about what the review goons had to say around these parts. Reminded far too many times to cut the blubber off and just get to the goods. Think a ?best-of? type deal made from all those CDr?s littering Richie?s refuse bin. Only it?s not; this here is made up of brand new (now old) tunes. Synthesizer workouts that carry along through slap-pappy dirt-cakes of NW styled angular rock. The kind that owes all or nothing to The Fall and the Teasers. I honestly can?t tell. But instead of rehashing the rehash, it goes about scraping the taste buds off an art-punks puffy pink tongue with a plaque riddled microphone, leaving little fleshy bits behind. And when these little niblets are amplified, they sound like a sock drawer full of Sweet Rot 45?s playing at the wrong speed. The Cryptic Corporation would be damn proud. They screech and yelp and flop all about, honking like a jazz seizure in an animation fuck flick factory. It repels and leads to chafing, yet I need to come back for more. Caroliner Rainbow fits into the equation somehow as well, yet no one seems to have mentioned this in the past. Fools. Armed with quarts of blood?and a pocket full of kazoos.
