July
388 S.M.JAGGART
Frantic Scratchings: Facial Twist by Sean Taggart.
PUSZONE
"She was extremely happy. A
great smile covered her face from ear
to ear. Ivory teeth sparkled. A glow
radiated from her body. She spoke
with a sensitive voice that com
municated her direction and
essence, along with a pleasant sense
98
of well being. She didn't worry much
about all of the problems of the day,
not that she didn't care, she just
didn't let them crawl under her skin
like invisible mites. There wasn't a
black cloud of depression over her
head. She was living life to the fullest
enjoying every minute as best as she
possibly could. She was in the big
city for the first time. The plane ride
had made her a bit queasy, but,
being naive to all these new occur
rences kept her smiling and a bit
adventurous. A bad sense of direc
tion led her into the wrong part of
town, the place she didn't belong, the
area where she stuck out like a green
monster from Mars. Walking down
the sidewalk, amidst the hoots and
hollers, she smiled. Maybe she was
a bit scared, but she didn't want them
to know. The grabbing, the shouting.
the staring, she felt these people
were being so insensitive to her. She
had done nothing wrong and she
was happy. Maybe they were jealous.
The man with the gun pointed at her
head bothered her just a bit, but she
decided to walk on. The man fired
two shots; they whizzed past,
millimeters away. She smiled and
walked down the sidewalk. The light
was green and she crossed the
street, forgetting to look both ways,
still smiling. Then a herd of elephants
trampled her down to a bloody pulp
in the street and were gone as soon
as they had arrived. Her smile didn't
glow as much...
"Wait a minute. What kind of story
is that?" asked the teacher.
"Hey, you interrupted me, teach.
What's wrong with this story?" the
student snapped.
"How could a herd of elephants
trample down a girl in the big city?"
the teacher asked.
"Ah, come on, teach, everyone
knows an elephant doesn't know the
difference between a stop light and
a green light!"
Well, so much for intros. Better get
back to the Puszone. Review, review,
review. Send three 254 stamps for
Puszone sticker to Pushead, PO Box
701, S.F., CA 94101 U.S.A.
I don't think I've ever gotten so
many pre-release copies of one title
like I have of this one. The hype
definitely seems to be on, so here it
is: Let's see, the first song starts off
with some deep bass chords and,
yeah, the madness begins. The
vicious slice, the deepest cut,
"Psychomania?" Nah, not that
Damned tune; these are the fun-
loving cousins of that haggard old
wench Martha Splatterhead. You
know, the Accused. Martha Splat-
terhead's Maddest Stories Ever
Told offers these points; (get out your
note pads) A) Good tight, forceful
sounding production, definitely an
ear ringing jewel. B) Not much
change in style from the last batches
you know so well, except that Tom-1
my has snuck a few metal licks in
there. C) Blaine (well, he should have
been point B)-the guy's voice is
insane (say it long), like an alley cat
fight. Those snarls- how does he
control this voice? I expect to see
women with ripped dresses and claw
marks on their arms and legs. Still,
on the speedy parts...what did he
say? D) Lots of songs for greater
combustion, including three covers.
Oh no?! For grabbers, Ten Years
After's "I'd Love To Change the
World." and GBH's "Sick Boy" If that
ain't enough (it's not for me), sink
your teeth into "The Bag Lady
Song." "Starved to Death," or
"Scared of the Dark," which shows
that aggressive Accused power-
house slaughter. And lastly, point E)
The Accused continue to maintain
their unique blend of fast, raw, skin-
spankin' assaults that grow stronger
with each release. This Seattle based
band isn't for the faint hearted, but
they've proven themselves to be a
mighty outfit who have continued
sealed with a Cliff Green cover and
you've got yourself an Lp's worth of
music that is more fun than a night
in Boise. Nah, that's the SOC. home
turf. Somewhere out there on
Subcore Records. You can't miss it.
And just down the street, seriously,
is another Northwest unit powering
its way out of the mud, a band from
the shores of Boise by the name of
The original line-up back together again-Hirax 1988,
through thick and thin for numerous
years. Continual cheers to the
Accused, and hey, they're doing a
comic book, too! On Combat
Records.
To the south of Seattle lies the
hopelessly allay home of State of
Confusion, those Idaho punksters
who still beat it down. There seemed
to be some confusion as to when this
Lp would come out, who would put
it out and, please don't ask the ques-
tion, why is it coming out? Hopefully,
this second Lp, A Street, isn't collect-
ing dust on your local distributor's
shelf because this platter matter
grinds feverishly and raw with the
sheer power of an early hardcore
daze. The thin wall of sound buzzes
with explosive force, yet the produc-
tion is weak to say the least. Even so,
the boys stick all their efforts into the
musical attack and come up with
another batch of smashers. Now find
that studio. State of Confusion, true
to their name, seem to be lost in a
critic's time warp, not jumping on the
newest bandwagon but sticking to
their guns and playing from the
heart, coming up with twelve tracks
that blaze with speed (not of the ultra
division), and that noisy chaos the
police always seem to claim is
bothering people. It's fun, enjoyable
hardcore that is not overbearing or
unpleasant. Growling with raspy
guitars and, dare I say, "Henry" (as
in Kissinger, I'm sure) type vocals,
these four will win over the most
serious cult maniacs. Pack all this
rambunctious activity into a package
Grind. Now there's this guy in Grind
who is the future rock star, he plays
guitar, he's got charisma like you
wouldn't believe. Ever seen Johnny
Quest? If rock stars were like this guy,
you'd want to bring them home and
replace your Cabbage Patch Kids.
Ted hates rock stars, too, but he does
grind on the guitar. Add his charisma
to that of Eric, Woody and Glenn's
and you have a humorous and enter-
taining outfit. So much so that at a
recent gig the local softball team
decided to spread their flying A's in
appreciation. It was a touching
moment. On this demo cassette,
Seek, Find... Grind, you have fif-
teen tracks of medium-paced core
with good rhyming lyrics and a thick,
dirgy sound. Really raw garage stuff.
For a demo it's a good start. Check
into this tape from Grind, 5283
Missoula Way, Boise, Idaho, 83709.
(Address all fan mail to Ted.)
Hirax is back in a somewhat
limited form, namely a seven-inch
with only 1,000 copies pressed
(released in Sweden, no less). En-
titled Blasted in Bangkok, this disc
features two lengthy tracks, "The
Beginning of the End" and "Fear the
War Within." Both show very intense
lyrical observations, especially in
"Fear. "You just don't see metal
type bands with this kind of writing.
Long poetic comments on the sur-
rounding world, in Katon's sopranic
voice and a tuneful delivery, are pac-
ed by a thick, heavy, roaring guitar.
Hirax gets most of their recognition
in the speed metal category, but what
they are setting out to do is heartfelt
and strong. They are a lot wiser than
most other speed metal bands who
are rising to the top. It is good to know
that members of this genre can care
without losing the respect of their au-
dience. Two great tracks in the
unique manner of Hirax. Write Katon
de Pena, PO Box 1471, Cypress, CA
90630.
If you mixed up the sounds of early
British punk/HC sound (79-81) with
today's Japanese HC attack, you'd
probably get a band that sounds
somewhat like Doctor and the Crip-
pens. On their debut Lp Fired from
the Circus, the first track, "Freak of
Nature," combines that Dis-
charge/Chaos UK/The Insane (early
days) Brit sound with the force of to-
day's raging core barrage, yet the
composition holds tight like in days
past. And why not? Isn't that Dave
Ellesmere, ex-skin smasher of the In-
sane, hammering away on drums?
That's probably just one of the
reasons the older style comes into
play. There is definitely some exper-
ience here. With a decent vocalist
who writes crazed lyrics, (who else
would be from England and write a
song called "Ever Been to Utah?")
this band really storms. These
twenty-two tracks never back off; they
keep the drive alive, flying with speed
and chaotic overtures. The record
even sports an inner sleeve that looks
like it was made by the "Skate
Muties" crew. Lots of humor here, as
well as forceful music. Stuff like
"Ballad of Farmer Vincent,"
deserves radio airplay. Can the
masses tolerate, or will they retaliate?
Doctor and the Crippens are an
entertainment in themselves and
seventy percent of the record had me
shagging. Great stuff in no one's
tradition. Demand it. On Manic Ears.
Thundering out of Arizona is a
sonic blaster band that goes by the
name of Last Option. This seven-
inch Ep reminds me of the early
Dischord days, namely stuff like
S.O.A. and Youth Brigade. Hungry.
gritty hardcore that is forceful with
stamina, raw with desire, and
youthful in its angry approach. The
Overtime Ep features eight tracks
that fill up the grooves, clocking in
at just about twelve minutes, and
there's never a dull moment. These
speedy deliveries are packed in with
thick shouting chants of "positive"
type lyrics that reflect on the frustra-
tions surrounding them. A so-so mix
has the vocals up front, guitars a bit
hidden and drums not so overpower-
ing, but the overall effect is raunchy
vigor. Last Option has put together
a nice piece of captivating material.
Write to Soulforce Records, PO. Box
10094, Scottsdale, AZ 85271.