PUSZ
Travel. I choose the subways and
buses to get from place to place.
They have their advantages and
disadvantages. Survival. Auto-
mobiles are just too chaotic when I'm
stressed out. Behind the wheel are
panics-ville drivers and being a
pedestrian is occasionally a horrify-
ing experience. Today, after almost
getting pulverized by a blind motorist,
I headed downward into the under-
ground realm of subway world. As
usual, the old "Spare change?"
routine was immediately popped into
my face. I walked onward and
through the gates. As the beggar
continued to mumble the cunning
phrases and pathetic gestures, I
waited a few moments for the train.
When it arrived, I entered the car and
plopped down into a seat. Having
paid no attention to who I sat next to,
I was somewhat shocked when the
hand pushed its way into my face
again. I looked over and saw it was
the same beggar. But how? I got up
and walked hurriedly to another car
and sat down. Sweat dribbled down
my face. At the next stop I rushed out
of the car and up the stairs. When
I got to the top, a hand smashed into
my chest. It startled me. I looked
over...it was the same beggar
again. I turned and ran, not looking
back. I was a bit frightened as I quick-
ly paced some yards. Coming to a
halt in front of a store, I took deep
breaths until I was collected enough
to walk through the door. I grabbed
a can of cola from the refrigerated
section and went to the register. As
if enough was not enough, the hand
opened to me.
"Spare change, Mac?" the beg-
gar said. This was impossible, the
beggar was behind the counter. My
eyes widened and I rushed out, drop-
ping the can of cola. Running even
faster than before, I made a mad
dash to my home and I was nearly
exhausted when I got there. For some
odd reason I expected the beggar to
be at the foot of my steps. No such
84
SPUSHEAD
bad luck. What a relief.
Inside my house, I sat down to
relax and calm my nerves. What a
strange and uncanny day. I fell
asleep and started to dream. In the
dream I was heading down into the
subway world again. There was the
beggar; then I went through the
gates...I awoke. How could I relive
that in my dream? I needed some-
with some new flailing goodies for
your lustful brain. Always looking for
new vinyl, tapes, and info. Maybe you
want to get the Puszone sticker and
other tidbits? Send 3-220 stamps to
Pushead, PO Box 701, SF CA 94101
U.S.A. As always, thanx!
The first selection on this Lp.
caught me off guard since this
band's last platter didn't do much to
Canadian power merchants-Volvod.
thing to take my mind off that beg-
gar. I opened my mag to the Puszone
and starting reading. When the hand
ripped out of the magazine, I jumped.
But I was freaking out, for it was my
own hand that had gone through the
magazine. What was happening? 1
was shaking from limb to limb. I
looked back at the Puszone and the
shredded page I had made. I turned
it, and on the right-hand page was
an advertisement. I glanced at it and
went into shock. It was that beggar,
with the words "Spare Change"
written at the top.
HAHAHA, grandiloquent mad
men, welcome to another Puszone,
burn the wood in the ol' cranium.
Now my hair is totally aflame, since
this third outing by Volvod reaches
white heat temperatures and scor-
ches past the skin, leaving hot bones
pleased. Killing Technology reminds
me a lot of Die Kreuzen. I never
figured a speed metal band would do
this. By combining the heaviness
and power of metal with the speed
and rawness of hardcore (crossing
over, so to speak), then introducing
a new element that is beyond the
crossover, Volvod hints that this
could just be the tip of the iceberg
of powerful sound to come. Insanity
runs amok as Voivod charges with
an energetic crack that keeps the
whip flinging through seven wacked-
out tracks that prove lengthy but
effective. A distorted guitar twang is
lit up by a fine production that
showcases speedy licks and strum-
ming madness backed by smashing
drum beats and vocals that are less
gruff than those on the two previous
releases. These various attributes
comes together wildly and work that
much better. Volvod could get a lot
of recognition with this release; it's
their strongest yet, especially the title
track, which grabs your attention with
its unique guitar sound and style. The
gang's all been here, and this is still
on the turntable. Thumbs up for this
Volvod slab. On Noise International,
5 Crosby Street, New York, NY 10013.
Hailing from Mesa, Arizona,
Desecration races quickly toward
havoc with a speed surge that is raw
and vocal and turbulently rushing at
a split-second pace, calming only for
breaks between songs. In the tradi
tion of the hardcore band that put it
all up front, furious with a zooming
vigor and the desire to haul,
Desecration spew forth a manic bar-
rage of honest warfare in a musical
sense that delights abrasively.
Unrelenting thrusts of battering
chords pounce upon your mind as
Jack quickly tongues out some
manifesto-ish, yet personal lyrics.
and guitarist Dave strums the bom-
bastic beat. The six songs on this 45
revolutions per minute 12" are
enough to blow your stack. Espe-
cially with tracks like "Macho Man",
"Who's in Control?" and the self-
titled "Desecration." Extreme jolters.
Self produced and manufactured,
this is a limited gem, a lot like that
first Accused 12" with that chaotic
quality as well. Truly a "Frash Delic-
tate!" Write to Jack, PO Box 195,
Mesa, AZ 85201.
The stagnation must be over, since
a whole crop of new young blood out-
fits are exploding everywhere with
pile-driving releases. Out of New
York is Warzone, a band that has
been around for awhile, and has lost
some past members to known N.Y.
bands. Still, the current line-up fea-1
tured on this seven-song Ep really
knows how to grind down the bowels.
This is gut-crunching madness at its
finest. Even though the production
isn't the best, the strength and
stamina of the musical quickness
sure make up for it. Fun, pleasure-
packed hardcore abounds on this
Lower East Side Crew Ep. Warzone
provides a mixture of burly aggres
sion with rapid, hard-hitting action in
the same fashion as the first Agnostic
Front or Cause For Alarm Eps.
Straight-edge lyrics, reminiscent of
Minor Threat or SS Decontrol, are
spurted out by main man Raybies as
the ensemble terrorizes with speed
and raw vigor. Rabble rousing fury.
from an upcoming favorite on Revela-
tion Records, PO Box 1454, New
Haven, CT 06506-1454.
(Continued on page 86)
2.49
10$250
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Return of frantic scratchings and back by popular demand is a new rendering by Sean Wyett. Perhaps this cannibalistic
meat shop butcher has a few choice cuts you might be hungry for? And to all you scratchers of the frantic age, you too
can submit art for a possible pose. Please don't send original art or folded Xeroxes, and remember to include postage
If you want it back. Frantic Scratchings, PO. Box 701, San Francisco, CA 94101.
85