Treasure

You Broke Mah Heart Cause I Couldn't Blog. You Didn't Even Want Me Around...

But Now I'm Back to Let You Know I Can Really Shake'Em Down...

Be...the 23rd Rocker!

I’m sendin’ this one out to Mr. Brainpang, as he is somewhat of an authority on mad genius where musicality is concerned.

Just when I think I’ve plumed the very depths of self-styled outsider music, the bedrock beneath me gives way and I find myself in the company of yet another schizophrenic with a guitar, only this time he’s plugged in and he’s co-opted Roky Erikson’s mullet.

That last comparison, in particular, is fairly accurate for if I had to explain D.C’s Butch Willis and the Rocks, it would be that through some as-yet unknown providence, not one, but two Roky Erikson’s just happened to develop organically and wholly independent of one another on opposite sides of the continent; the prior, having become the poster child for psychedelia; the latter, being perhaps most famous for practically burning down a local cable access show with a faulty smoke machine (See: Below)

Makes me wonder if Henry Rollins will get around to replacing ole’ Butchee’s teeth as well.

Seriously though, the two sound identical, actively deal w/ the same neurological impairments and are generally singing about nothing that resembles reality as I understand it.

What makes this revelation even stranger is that the enclosed tracks were discovered on a sleeveless LP in a Redbank NJ thrift shop, far from its native DC and wholly out of place amongst myriad copies of the Firestone Christmas album and Psalms for Children. How did it get there? What kind of financial hardships would prompt someone to jettison this jewel of dementia for pennies on the dollar when it cultural value is immeasurable? Either way I am willing to take the blessing as it comes, though the journey says much more than the ultimate destination. Even the albums title ‘Of’ evokes mystery; walking a fine line between brilliant existentialism and the kind of head scratching that continually moves us record misanthropes forward…albeit by shorts steps.

I will now give you a moment to mentally prepare yourself…

Ready?

Short Steps - Butch Willis (& the Rocks)

Be the 23rd Rocker - Butch Willis (& the Rocks)

I Want'a Be A Rock 'N' Roll Star - Butch Willis (& the Rocks)

Consistency: The Hobgoblin of a Small Mind?

Well…it was inevitable. Punk had to die sometime. There is no way you can sustain that amount of nihilism without one day questioning your prospects (Dope or Law school?). Like any transition, it was always gonna get worse before it got better: what was once loosely focused anger turning into arty, non-linear existentialism before hatching New-Wave like a neon marshmallow peep. The hippies did it before, but where they so fully turned their back on their granola-eating tenants and embraced capitalism, your average retired punk still, despite the best efforts of upper-management, retains that irreverent shine that makes the movement so appealing after so many years - either that or they join/start a rockabilly band.

So if you, dear reader, like me, bemoan the compromising of principals which are now a luxury one can’t rightly afford, then dig this little road map of a post-punk landscape circa 79-87. You can still not shower if you like. Just make sure you show up to work on time.



The Mad - Sick!

Long before it became quaint to have an unintelligible Asian guy fronting your combo, NYC's Screamin' Mad George was out and about, rollin around on the floor in leathers and making incorrect use of the article "a", as in "I've got a syphilis". While not as good as 'I Hate Music', I don't own that one ($700 bucks my white ass!) so...


Wild Kingdom - The Way to Love

Great demo-tape track plucked from obscurity by the folks @ Boston's Throbbing Lobster Records for inclusion in their legendary series of comps. Why this track never became bigger than clam-chowder and baked beans, I'll never know, but it certainly is tastier, and less apt to give you botulism.



Rhino 39 - Marry It

This is the So-Cal band that got punk legends TSOL into the game, and if that don't get your attention...









The Pop Group - Thief of Fire

Circa 79' Dub-Punk (?!?!) straight outta Bristol. Best known for their collaboration w/ the Slits, this 'Group' is so arty they crap Picassos. That's OK though, cause unlike most cerebral acts, they are rather innovative and not in a "Look at me, I have a cello!" kinda way.





The Waitresses - The Comb

Since Christmas is now upon us like a pall of doom you might as well just become resigned to the fact that you are gonna hear that fuckin' Waitresses Christmas song transmitted in the fillings of you teeth from now till the end of advent. It might, however, help you to know that before they knew what boys liked , they were too busy shakin' their asses to give a shit.



The Birthday Party - Kiss Me Black

Everyone has been singing the praises of the new Nick Cave album for months, but I really don't dig it. It seems to me that he dumbed down all his lyrics over the course of the last several years to make them more accessible, but hey, I have a thesaurus and a King James bible. I can hang. Here we find Nick @ his least verbose, though I think it might be a dope thing, and less an ironic departure from preconceived tenants of genre. Still, it works.

Editor's note: Apparently Ed Roth, having designed the cover for 'Junkyard', was appalled at how the album's lyrics offended his Christian sensibilities. 'I stuck a six-inch gold blade in the head of a girl' indeed.


Guided Missles - I Used to be a Rock & Roller

A pseudo New-Wavy band from my neck o' the land (New Brunswick NJ), this track is kinda corny, but the sentiment seems extremely poignant when you consider the over-all death of the bar scene (R.I.P Melody Bar / Roxy), and the inevitable move towards more "grown-up" endeavors (again, dope or Law School?).

Editor's Note: Sorry. Didn't feel like taking a picture of the cover (I'm lazy). You didn't miss much.


The Shirts - Lonely Android

The Shirts are one of those CB's bands that just never made the cut. I guess they were too progressive for the Dead-boys crowd and had too many guitars where 'Television' was concerned.

Concerning CB's: Now that its gone, there is this weird mystique about it, but if you've ever hung your head-piece there, then you know that the booze is lousy, there is that one mutant step near the shitter which you always tripped over, and if there ever were a fire, you would surely be trampled by people trying to force there way though the chained-up fire exit before you even had a chance to burn to death.

Somehow I doubt that the re-dux they are planning in Vegas will embrace those quaint little touches.


The New Math - Borrowed Time (???)

I think that's the name of the song anyways. It's the last tune on Side: A of the 'Gardens' EP but there is no track listing, so I am gonna use the age old method of picking out the most oft used refrain and go with it. Perhaps best known for as the architects of 'Love under Will' offa the ROTLD soundtrack (Credited as the 'Jet Black Berries'), this band is a great example of the pop sensibilities that finally brought punk to its inevitable end.


Click Link Below for Download


Blues for the RedBoy Presents: The Class of 87 Mix

A Tale Of A Strange Phenomena.

Goth Music, or Death Rock? It is a question that has plagued people for millennia. Ok, so I might be exaggerating a bit. Might not seem much of a difference, yet if you were to ask the average ghoul in full makeup on line @ a Quick-Check, them's could be fightin' words, or, more likely than not, illicit a muttering of curses to bookend their passive-aggressive deference.


Having seen the cultural devastation that is 'Emo' cutting itself discreetly into the fore-arms of the cultural lexicon, I find myself longing for spookier days in Bowery, when people didn't take themselves (and their haircuts) too seriously and post-modern vampirism was hitherto unknown. I am talking, of course, about a liberal dose of self deprecating humor - I am talking about 45 Grave.

"Formed from the remains of The Consumers by Rob Ritter / Graves of The Bags, Don Bolles of The Germs, Paul Cutler and Dinah Cancer (one of the best stage names ever), the most-underrated 45 Grave began as Vox Pop in the '70s, playing at the infamous and legendary L.A. punk institution the Masque. Driven by a gleeful twisted fascination with B-movies and gore-nography, Vox Pop eventually decomposed into 45 Grave, perhaps the very first gothic band. Though it would be near impossible to pinpoint the exact scope of their [bad] influence, suffice to say that 45 Grave far predate both the much-hyped Bat Cave movement in the UK and the formation of Christian Death and that Nikki Sixx even admitted in print that Motley Crue stole 45 Grave's easily-recognizable goathead-pentagram logo! But unlike those artists, who took themselves far too seriously, 45 Grave always had their tongues firmly planted in their gaunt, deathly-white cheeks : for them it was just good dirty fun."

What can I say? Any band that covers 'Riboflavin Flavored, Non-Carbonated, Poly-Unsaturated Blood' by Don Hinson is a fiend, er, friend o' mine. Enjoy some cuts off their lesser known posthumous sophomore album 'Autopsy'. Ole' Uncle Red is gonna throw a 'Y' incision your way. Catch a New-Wave to a shallow grave!

Anti Em - 45 Grave

Take 9 - 45 Grave

My Type - 45 Grave

Undead...but not forgotten.

While suburban NJ Punks were busy givin' everyone the 'Horror Business', Ex-Misfit Bobby Steele was coolin' his heels and countin' his toes just across the river as lead sing/guitarist of NYC's criminally under appreciated 'The Undead'. Struggling to emerge from out the shadow of his famous former employers, Steele makes a good go at maintaining a New York state of mind throughout the Undead's debut E.P. 1982's 'Nine Toes Later', named for an unfortunate incident in which Steele's big toe went bye, bye.

I must confess upfront, a certain bias in this boiler-plate, as I have many fond memories of watchin' the Undead hashin' it out at local record stores and basement shows. I also found it kinda funny that Steele was always stuck carrying his own gear, cane in hand (Shitty band mates, huh?).Anyhoo, pull up a toe and enjoy some Punk de jour from the poet who brought you such wisdom as 'We Don't Want the Poor in New York City" & "Put Your Clothes Back On"

Life of Our Own - Undead