Notes From THE Underground
HE PROJECTION OF A GIANT EYEBALL
studied the bodies packed into Slim's SF.
Lifting out of a sea of ghosts, Queens of
the Stone Age passed through a labyrinth of
multi-dimensional walls. Floating around the room
on extremely large sound waves, cracks opened in
the floor and several onlookers fell to the optical
cutlery of the great invader General ZOD.
Regulating total conquest, androids began calcu-
lations somewhere between Josh Homme's
power chords and metal-flaked ghost wisps. Before
the end of the century, plan on the costly con-
struction of a giant robot crushing humans. And be-
fore they do, there is another tale... Vincent Price
was unveiling the pistols in the mini-coffin boxes on
Haunted Hill while at Bottom of the Hill the voice
of Handsome Dick Manitoba called over the PA,
"It's been a long time between drinks, baby!" For
you young fuckers,
that's showin'
class. From
NYNY eight
years later to a
highly large
crowd, the
Dictators got
right down to the
shit...Leading that
period is Man's
Ruin, who is ac-
tively cleansing with
the release of
FuManchu's Eatin' Dust,
on which there should be
posted "May take you
aboard a UFO." Also seep-
ing from the earth with
toxic waste near the for-
mer SF naval base is a
split disc with the
Hellacopters and
Gluecifer, hard
rockin' and titty
bouncin'. Also
rolled out of the
IN
UPPORT YOUR LOCAL
116 THRASHER
ELLS ANGELS
VENTURA
factory is
Laced Candy
from the
Gaza Strippers, featuring Rick Sims, formerly of
Didjits and the Supersuckers. If you abide fron-
tier law, clean that pistol and throw on Rebels &
Outlaws. A compilation of hard-ass country, fellas like
Merle Haggard will have the green ones froze in the
headlights. Other rough and ready types on the comp
are Johnny Cash, Faron Young, Marty Robbins,
Wanda Jackson, Willie Nelson, and many others.
-James Jackson...Joe and the Chickenheads are
more fun than a shopping spree in a Mexican su-
permarket. What could be better than a bunch of
half-naked dudes wearing giant papier-maché
chicken heads (except for the singer, who wears a
giant carrot head) and playing what might best be
called "doom ska"? Well, I guess I could think of a
lot of better things, but who cares? These guys are
fuckin' crazy. Now mind you, I despise the current
wave of candy-coated ska bands that dominate the
airwaves these days. I as much as the next guy,
but these chickenhead bastards stray far from that
category. In fact, forget that I ever associated them
with ska music at all. Joe and the Chickenheads are
just plain DOOM ROCK. I don't know if they have
anything out in the recorded form, but who cares,
'cos you've got to see these guys live to get the gist
of what's going on. They live in Orange County
somewhere and that's where they play a lot too, so
look around for them the next time you're over
there believe me, they're not hard to miss...The
first time I saw Fugazi was way back in 1989 at the
Country Club in Reseda. The tickets were five
bucks, the band played most spectacularly, and
the singer from Beat Happening (the opening
band) got a glass ashtray smashed in his face.
When I saw Fugazi last month at the Palace in
Hollywood, things hadn't changed much in terms
of ticket price (this show was $6) or performance
in ten years. Sure, the asslicker parking company
charged me a cool eight bucks to park my truck,
and the Palace has to be about the gayest, over-
decorated venue for any worthy band to play, but
the show did have its moments. Take, for example,
the two backcountry hicks I ran into in the smok-
ing room upstairs. One had a crooked hitler mus-
tache and a Maiden shirt, while the other guy had
crossed eyes and was smoking a joint right out in
the open. I got the weird feeling they were under-
cover FBI dudes checking up on Ian MacKaye's
un-American activities or something. The Fugazis
played the hits that night, as well as a lot of numbers
from the newest album, End Hits. A near perfect
evening was ended appropriately with yours truly
slyly wrapping an arm around a pissed-off looking
Henry Rollins and
snapping a
photo of us
together. I
thought he
was gonna
punch my
lights out, but he just
stood there looking even more
pissed instead. Thanks Henry. Oh yeah, though I
haven't seen it yet, the Fugazi documentary is out
MIKE now as well, called Instrument. Joe Sore, the
NESS
main man behind LA hardcore bastards the
the band. Good soundtrack too, so he says...Now,
to abruptly grind some gears here, let me tell
you about a little outfit of MCs and freaks calling
themselves the Shapeshifters. Alien conspira-
cies, stories of the Chupacabras, and tales of
Christianity where you don't know whether they
are pro-Bible or not-these are the kinds of things
you will find yourself confronted with in their
newest release, Planet of the Shapes. Out of what
seems t o be ten or twelve members, Circus def-
initely stands out as the prophetic messiah of the
Shapeshifters, weaving the listener through galac-
tic beats and clever samples with his monotone
rantings about religion, science, Martians, apes,
and every space-age cartoon that you and I grew
up with in the 1980s. The whole tape is good,
probably the best stuff I've heard since Circus's
part in the song "Farmer's Market of the Beast"
that was featured on the Beneath the Surface com-
pilation released last year. If you are interested in
some shit that ain't your everyday bubble-gum or
gangsta hip-hop, then I'd write to Circus at 2121
Andreo Ave., Torrance, CA 90501 and get both
the comp and the Planet of the Shapes sent to you
pronto. Better yet, ask for some of the solo ma-
terial that Circus has been recording as of late as
well. I guarantee all of it will make your mind
wander. Andy Harris...Since he was seventeen,
Mike Ness has been snarlin' his own brand of hard-
edged, from the gut, rock 'n' roll as frontman for
Social Distortion, the legendary CA punk outfit
from Orange County. His no-compromise style of
wailin' is brilliantly showcased on this recent solo ef-
fort Cheating at Solitaire, a full-plate of 14 tough-as-
nails tracks. To say Cheating at Solitaire is a breath
of fresh air would be insulting to the man. Rather,
whiffs of burning tire rubber, old black leather jack-
ets, good cigars, cold beer, and heavily-perfumed
martini-drinking vixens in 6" fuck-me pumps come
to mind. Finally, here's a man who has the balls to
sing and play rock 'n' roll in its original form. It's
unadultered, uncompromising, intense, and time-
lessly classic roots American rock, kuntry, blues
and punk, with flavor and inspiration from the leg-
endary pioneers of rock 'n' roll of the Fifties. While
Ness may not be a rock 'n' roll savior, this release
does prove that he is a hard-rockin', torch carryin'
hell-raiser with a GEE-tar, and melds some fine.
original speaker burners mixed in with some cov-
ers of artists like Hank Williams, Bob Dylan and
Johnny Cash. The steam-engine locomotive churn-
ings in "The Devil In Miss Jones" reminisces a
GHOST RIDERS IN THE SKY-ish gallop, but with
a grindin' wollop that charges with the statement,
"Your daddy had a funny way of showing you his
love." From this track he leaps into a shit-kicking re-
birth of Bob Dylan's "Don't Think Twice," destined for
poolside and rampside blastbox overkill. Guest-star-
ring on Cheating at Solitaire are Bruce Springsteen,
Brian Setzer, Billy Zoom, and a few lads from
Royal Crown Revue, all of whose collaborative ef-
forts prove for explosive results. For those of you
wondering if this signals the end of Social
Distortion, well, they's just takin' a break right now
is all. Expect new material from them next year. In
the meantime, Cheating at Solitaire is a musical of-
Icarus Line, let me know that it's a touching fering that will stand the test of time, and in many
and heartfelt story that the documentary tells of
ways it seems like it already has.-M. Fo
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