Surfin Ki Records
The cover may tell you Suzy Quatro, Joan Jett and RUNAWAYS of course but though those hints don´t bluff you up to a certain point, CRUISER ain´t your sugar pie girl fronted band for sure. Equipped with ragged flea market trousers, skintight leather and a holey HEARTBREAKERS shirt with all L.A.M.F. chords enlisted, they´ll instead just rip your balls off Bators style and wear them as a decorating earring accesory for their next rowdy stroll around the block. Their New York home is unmistakeable present in their sound and within´ this legacy those naughty CRUISER brats are beating their way through the rat infested backstreets of the 70ties Bowery up to the 53rd & 3rd where the Warriors are hiding in a Donut Shop, overjoyed of not having to pick a fight with that savage rebel rousing gang.
Subculture Suicide 7″
Dirt Cult Records
You could easily label FASHIONISM as “…catchy Mod-/Powerpop with BUZZCOCKS…blablabla” and get away with it in Vice Magazine but let´s be honest, not only would this be a total understatement but also an embarrassingly reduced point of view that is only scratching the surface.
So let´s face the band´s latest single, as it deserves, with the enhanced scientifical methods of a four-eyed record junkie.
So what´s outstanding about this band whose chartbuster production line seems to be driven by an own inexhaustible nuclear Teen-Bop reactor ?
First there´s an absolute advantage named Jeffrey McCloy who´s bringing in the distinctive Pop sensibilities of Elvis Costello and Nick Lowe paired with an addictively crooning Dion “The Wanderer” nostalgia bust feel with the exception of having removed just the right amount of pompous slickness and replacing it with the nerdy odd bird charme school of Wreckless Eric and Jilted John. I don´t know if the band will also be including a 12×12″ boardgame of Ropes & Ladders once they´ll put a full-length out or if they dislike anyone successful with girls and gardening like J.J. did but I definitely love those pictures popping up in my head when listening to FASHIONISM.
That´s still not the full package though ´cause second as important is the fact that the band in a whole is able to revive the irresistible vibe and atmosphere of a teenage dancehall where the hopes and dreams of desperate adolescents searching for their role in life are reflected by the candy beat of the SHIVVERS and SPEEDIES and by the switchblade pop bites from the likes of MOONDOGS, AUTOGRAPHS or PROTEX who simply atomized a feeling of unconditional joy and an atmosphere of departure while still reflecting the problems and severe disappointments we all have to mess with.
Therefore the music of FASHIONISM is nostalgic in the way that it will make you feel like being sixteen again but for sure it isn´t decrepit or musically reactionary.
So don´t let any MRR writers with a childhood trauma for cheap Bay City Rollers records fool you, FASHIONISM is alive and kicking, FASHIONISM is now !
No Front Teeth Records
Either there´s a lot of sizzling sexual energy in the canadian air that us ignorant euro trash inhabitants haven´t been used to from those bear huggers so far and that needs to be channeled through bands like JONESY and NERVE BUTTON (who´ve already been celebrated excessively in another review on those pages) or it´s just an honest and heartfelt love for cum noir blockbusters like “Waterpower Teenies” and “Beverly Hills Copulator”.
One way or another, with pubescent lyrical excursions into the nasty shakespearean world of (I Wanna) Bang Bang You and (I Just) Wanna Cum On Your Face, JONESY are a band handbuzzed to fit for the filthy little community of this blog.
Devoid of all inhibitions they just let their inner Ron Jeremy beast loose and send it straight into a rollercoaster gangbang with Mr. T of SLOPPY SECONDS fame, the MODERNETTES virgin Barbra from Teen City and the high heels and straps cunnilingus licks of the “Trash” NEW YORK DOLLS peaking in a sexual accident with a BOYS bubblegum machine that you´ll refuse to hear more details of.
No Front Teeth Records
Always wondered what it would have felt like to wake up in GG Allin´s butthole with a ranting GIZMOS dick still stuck in from the lunatic party on acid the night before ?
That´s not the type of question you keep asking yourself when having your vegan poppy seed bagel and low carb scrambled eggs for breakfast ?
Oh dear, you gotta face the disturbing stuff in this world too, you gotta face Trump and you gotta face GG´s reception area because there´s no escape anyway.
It´s the same with the TENEMENT RATS from the city of badly bruised and slightly stoned angels. Once you´ve dropped the needle on that rabid rotter the booze oozing beatings of those human garbage disposals will dastardly crawl into your brain through the VILETONES “Backdoor To Hell” and zonk it out with the initially mentioned sickoid truth before resoldering your neurons with WEIRDOS “Solitary Confinement” and the ART ATTACKS first two 7″ big ballers bitten by the fleas & lice of VOM´s incestious mother. What a wonderful world, “Hurts & Noises” haven´t felt that soothing anymore since the GUILTY RAZORS crept out of the sewerage.
Yes, that´s a compliment. Now gimme more TENEMENT RATS.
RIK AND THE PIGS
Life´s A Bust 7″
Feel It Records
Enviromental Contamination and Toxicology Punk pukes for the cheesy feet KBD generation of the modern age caught in the cheap speed pass winds of LUMPY & THE DUMPERS, BUCK BILOXI & THE FUCKS, CAL & THE CALORIES and their assorted troops of Bummer Bitch survivors recording their songs with a Toys”R”Us tape player in a trashcan pool of piss with the SLUGS, MAD and MENTALLY ILL, cataclysmic jaunts into the boyscout side of LSD trips and the SCREAMERS synthesizer interiority included.
Music to do the Jockstrap Shuffle with your girlfriend and family to on Thanksgiving.
Trash Life 7″
Sweet sweet Philadelphia, the town of fraternal love ? Well, maybe for your flower power child but sure not for TRASH KNIFE who are bursting right into your mulleted mug from the rancid shithole toilet in Mickey´s Gym to toast your aural waffles with a Riot Core infested Teenage Hate hydrogen bomb from the garbage dump of bad morals. As wonderfully vulgar and dirt filled as a multiple crash collision bred by Kathleen Hanna and Darby Crash in the bumper hell of Solid Sex Lovie Doll Records.