Raw, disgusting and repulsive stuff coming at you in spades:
Stations – Stations 7″
I am absolutely terrified of Stations – scared shitless, nightmares plaguing my every nanosecond of sleep. Nothing has infected me this brutally since the first time I listened to Venom. I’d say the reasoning behind the terror is fair though – the way that Stations loom and hiss on their first ever material points to a band that will be waging war on peaceful slumber with the efficiency of Freddy Kreuger on a Ritalin binge.
This four-song 7″ showcases a lot of potential for Stations – mechanical grinding that puts a gothic spin on the chugging punk noise of Primitive Calculators. They play well with space and dynamics, shrouded under lo-fi blasts of noise and synth savagery. The package is jagged, militaristic and fucking pissed. “Hunting” and “Master/Disciple” stand out particularly, pushing Stations’ punk thrill to an overdose.
Snotty Babies – Snotty Babies
Snotty Babies are a bit of a relic from a few years back, but it’s great to finally have something physical to remember them by. And who wouldn’t want to be reminded of this? Decadent swamp rock dragged from the ditches of Marrickville, Beasts of Bourbon drunk vomiting into Kim Salmon’s tape recorder and emerging with blackened genius. “Sicko” is a vicious, punk grimace stained with feedback, “Dead Rat” a ramshackle rock and roll high speed chase that ends up with brains splattered across the highway for 50 K, and “Death of the Party” raises itself on its haunches, “Nick the Stripper” style, wide-eyed and manic, switchblade at the ready. For a while there, Snotty Babies were essential, and its a relief that their music gets to see the light of day.
Death Church – Inside Struggle/Betrayal Demos
Two tracks, both demos clocking in at 2 minutes and 47 seconds, from a band who’s name could possibly be a Rudimentary Peni reference. Fuck, that’s just one of the many reasons I love Death Church. They’re so intense, shackled beasts ripping and tearing at their chains through bloodthirsty swipes at angular guitar. It’s a thuggish post-punk inflected snarl, similar to that of Low Life, but done with the more obvious intention of feeding the listener through the shredder a la Steve Buscemi in Fargo.
Personally, “Inside Struggle” stands out as the better of the two demos, simply because I just think that the riff in there batters the hatch of my fragile psyche a little harder, and there’s a stronger chance that listening to that will unlatch my inherent serial killing motives. That being said, both of these songs will eat your fucking face off, and I can’t recommend them enough.
The SMB – The Price of Love
Yep, that Steve Miller Band. The one that got booked for Meredith, and a whole bunch of folks thought they’d get the opportunity to listen to “The Joker”. Fuuuuck that, could you imagine anything worse? Fuck it, why didn’t they go the full monty, and grab Hall & Oates and Don Henley DJ set?
Alternatively, you could get really fucking excited about a band that sounds like the Gun Club are being given shock treatment by Pussy Galore? Lo-fi ramblings of love and lust, blasting at despicable volumes, ripe for the kids to throw back paper-shrouded longnecks and puff on cheap cigarettes to.