Lucta, Italian Black Magic Punk

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Well, Christmas is upon us today and it could not have come and gone soon enough! The Christmas season is without a doubt the most irritating time of the year to get through when you're a hard-nosed, godless sonofabitch like me. I spend 334 days a year dreading the inevitability of another Yule-tide season! I'm sure anyone else who's stuck doing sales and/or retail for a living feels the same way. Such a gay olde thyme this is, when the very best sentiments of peace on Earth and joy for all mankind are best exemplified by two women landing brutal blows upon one another as they fight for the last Barbie on the shelf at FAO Schwartz. It's the new Barbie that's all the rage this year, the one that's anatomically correct with full blown '80s bush and gets her period.  

For a working-class hump like myself, some of the fun secondary effects of Pissmas (just to name a few) include the following: my workload and hours becoming unbearable, my hairline receding at double-time march from the stress of covering my monthly nut plus gifts, the seasonal traffic becomes like Chinese water torture and worst of all, all of these dumb fucking Americans perform a unified assault on my eyes with their god-awful decorations. You have all seen the stupid fucking lawn ornaments of a plastic nativity scene, I'm sure. You know, where Joseph and the wise-men look like four/sixth of the Allman Brothers coming to visit young groupie Mary, trying to figure out who fathered that manger baby. The culmination of all of these elements of course is the traditional Christmas party, where my barely legal Cuban neighbors plug their iPhone into a very, very loud amplifier and blast the Daddy Yankee Pandora station full blast until about 3am for all of the neighborhoods' delight. Sometimes you just want to fire back at the sensory overload of this wretched time of year. Well, this year, I'm sending one shot across the bow...

I've got some tunes that are just perfect for opening the windows wide and watching the holiday cheer wither under some Italian miasma. I would love to take a big shit on this entire zip code while they're having their just-add-water Walmart cocoa and giving each other gift cards to Chili's...

I discovered Lucta through my trusty recommendations on the Youtube app. Every now and then the algorithm gets it right on the money, and this is one of those times! This band is from Milan, Italy and their LP Black Magic Punk  was actually released digitally in 2018, but I believe that a label named order05 Records may be the culprit in pressing this on vinyl. My apologies for the spotty journalism. I tried to do my homework on these cats, believe you me, reaching out to both band and label alike for a press kit at minimum, but to no reply. It almost feels like they are doing a shtick, like being spooky-ooky for an air of mystery or something. That'll get you a mystique for sure. I've certainly bitten the bait; but you'll have a hard time collecting everybody's twenty bucks that way. 

But if Lucta want my twenty bucks, they don't even have to ask, it's theirs! This is the most exciting discovery that I've made this year without a doubt! I have to be frank, I've consumed a lot of music this year, but this is the one! This is the one that sent a shiver up my spine and put a fucking sneer on my face. From what I can surmise from their promo pic, Lucta is comprised of three broads with some dude on guitar. I haven't heard horror/death Punk that inspires a chill like this since the unholy Only Theatre Of Pain by Christian Death, and that's a hell of a high praise. Not that I am necessarily making a comparison of sound, though there are some parallels, I'm making a comparison of atmosphere. Black Magic Punk is a masterpiece. It is a mix of energetic Hardcore Punk (complete with plenty of rolling floor-tom parts to pick up change to and creepy-crawl by) and a macabre, Goth-ish context that is probably the greatest example of what "horror-Punk" should sound like. (Think Discharge and Christian Death huffing embalming fluid together, sort of.) If this LP were to reach Rikk Agnew's ears it may just be the cure to his erectile dysfunction. 

Lucta is a tour de force! Just purely exciting to listen to. Their sound is very driven, with a furious execution of grim tones that border on disassembly but are held together by the commanding bellow of their vocalist, who's name was not available at time of print. This broad is the one irreplaceable cog in this horror machine. Her voice, a wall of presence, is not shouted, but rather wailed like a banshee, and her timbre and perfect Italian annunciation make her vocals as sexy as they are horrifying to my uncultured Cuban-American ears. It sounds like a fucking exorcism for chrissakes! Eva O, va' a fare in culo, I'm not scared of you no more bitch! You've been replaced as the queen of horror-Punk! 

(I'm just kidding, you still scare the shit out of me Mrs. Ortiz, maam!) 

So if your neighbors are like mine, meaning that the festivities go on until the 26th of December, and the sweet holiday tones of Wisin and Yandel reverberate on the block, just open up the doors and windows, crank this on eleven, and watch their nativity scene wither and die...

Congratulations Lucta, you have received the highest honor on the dark web, the MISANTHROPAGANDA album of the year award for 2019. What did you win? You win ugats! Ciao, bambina!

  

Happy Birthday to his divine grace, The Earl of Hudson from the mighty, mighty Bad Brains

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Yo, I'm not even going to brush the dust off of the old thesaurus for this one. This one is coming straight from the heart. I wanted to post today to say Happy Birthday to Hardcore music's best drummer, one of the four wise men, his grace the Earl of Hudson, of the mighty, mighty Bad Brains. I'm sure that I am speaking for an enormous number of people when I say that the Brains mean a lot to me. It's ironic that a miserable, loathsome, morbid fuck like me can be such an admirer of such a soulful, positive and uplifting noise which the Brains offer unto their lord; but I guess that there is a small part of all of us that is searching for the light... any kind of light! 
  
I'm sure Sir Earl would be thrilled that he's being feted by some obscure truck stop bathroom on the Earth's internet highway. Hey, why not? I can only wish that I was so meaningful to someone that they gave me a write up in praise on a truck stop bathroom somewhere! Wait, um, no back up...   

         Speaking of Truck Stop Bathrooms, now it's time for a public service announcement... 

On second thought, if you've got your name being praised on a truck stop bathroom wall, that might not be a laughing matter. If that's the case, then chances are you may have already been burned with V.D. and a thousand other viruses to go! Gloryholes and Tinder hookups are cool and the gang, but bag your capital dome in some latex, don't slip, or your pinga-head will end up looking like the crusty nozzle tip of a mustard squeeze bottle. 

What was that you said? You were at Churchill's Pub last night and brought home some broad who had dreadlocks and was wearing an Aus-Rotten T-shirt? How low can a punk get?! I hope you bagged it, otherwise you're going to be pissing Grey Poupon, mon frere! It's going to feel like lightning struck your urethra so I hope you stockpiled some opioids. 

I'm sure that his grace, the Earl of Hudson is even more thrilled that now that asides being feted for his birthday by this crappy blog, it was done in conjunction with a PSA parody bit on venereal diseases. What an honor! The Earl can dig it I'm sure! I'm more than confident that he's dodged the "Fiyah Bun" on his jimmy from all of the groupies that these dudes must have gotten. The Earl laid down some serious pipe. friends! 

Anyways, rock on great one, oh Earl of Hudson, Hardcore music's most revered drummer, Timekeeper of the mighty, mighty Bad Brains, prophets of light and righteousness. I salute thee, whom on this 17th day of December in the year of his lord 2019 turneth the age of 62 years. He looks damn good at 62! (Black don't crack!) That's 62 years of spreading the gospel of Rock for light upon Jah earth! Sail on, oh great Sagittarian sage... 

The Faith... D.C. Hardcore OGs and a retraction of comments from an earlier post.

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I really like The Faith.  Their split LP with Void is definitely among the first vinyls that I ever got my hands on. I have mentioned before how unfortunately I paid this classic collectors item very little mind. (Well, this and Alec Mackaye's other band that succeeded this crew, Ignition.) It's just that I discovered this band a decade after the fact (in the early '90s) and there was just so much going on musically across the genres at the time that any dope band could have gone by unnoticed. Also, I had drank the '90s Hardcore Kool-Aid around that time and this band's sound was not what I was really looking for back then. I would now like to conjure the old idiom/cliche': "Better late than never!"  

In an earlier post, where I had reviewed a laundry list of Dischord releases, I described the Faith and/or Void as having a non regional tone, in other words they pre-dated such a thing as the 'DC sound'. I then went on to insinuate that the DC sound was not truly born until the "Revolution Summer". Well, I'd like to offer a retraction because having paid much closer attention to The Faith's Subject To Change EP I have now come to realize that I was wrong. So now, I'd like to retract my earlier comments and replace them with a new outrageous claim. The DC sound was already present on Subject To Change. This EP has all the elements such as the introspective lyrics and traces of melodic intent (thankfully not melodic overload.) Quite frankly I was a fool to have let it slip by my stiff little fingers (reference!). My apologies!

The Subject To Change EP is where The Faith came into their own as a band. While their demo cuts and the songs on the Void split are all formidable pieces of work, they weren't really offering something too unorthodox musically as opposed to their contemporaries. I feel that Void got the most attention from that release with The Faith, and the reason why is because Void was just on some other bizarre type of shit that made a lot of people say "what the fuck was that", whereas The Faith was still doing Hardcore by the numbers (step one, step two and step three now chorus and then repeat.) Had The Faith have come on that split with their true sound, the emotional and impassioned sound of this EP, I think The Faith would have had a lot more attention

Now I view The Faith a little differently, having assessed the fact that they already had the blueprints in their clutches for the DC thing when they dropped this EP. It makes me reconsider them to have been a lot more influential to that town's musical shenanigans then I previously thought. (Dag Nasty and Dag Nasty derivatives like Samiam owe their entire existence to this Subject To Change.) I now can also see how immensely the work of Alec Mackaye influenced an old favorite band of mine called Turning  Point. In hindsight I can hear a lot of The Faith's tricks pop up here and there in Turning Point jams, and also as I've mentioned before, Turning Point did record a cover of "Anxiety Asking" by Ignition (Mackaye's other band, post-Faith).

So don't be a smelly little pink, don't stop and think, just hit the link to Dischord Records and hook up all The Faith's shit. Yes, the whole shabang, the Void split and Subject To Change. Come on, don't be a tightwad, you probably spend more on product for your neckbeard than what these joints will cost you. Move!

(The feminists are going to love the "smelly little pink" reference...)

And if you really want a dope enhanced listening experience, put this in your shopping cart too while you're at it... Banned In D.C., the book, was first introduced to me in eighth grade by this kid named Rene Garcia. Rene was probably the third person I met who was into punk. Anyways, this book is a collection of photos, show flyers, and written anecdotes from lots of people that were there in the wee '80s when that shit went down, everybody from Ian Mackaye to HR of the mighty mighty and a whole lot of other DC musicians of bands you millennials may never have heard of before. The book has lots of dope action photographs from DC shows featuring all the City's usual suspects: Henry Rollins and S.O.A., Minor Threat, Government Issue, Void, The Faith, Youth Brigade, Teen Idles, Iron Cross, Black Market Baby, blah, blah, blah, I mean the list goes on and on... the scene was that populous! Cop the book, it'll blow your mind how vivrant the scene was.

 Back in eighth grade, my biggest takeaway from the book was the fashion. I developed my "Punk look" based off of what the kids in this book were rocking. I ordered this book recently for old memories and with the intent of using it as a coffee table book. I have to tell you, just relaxing on the couch with a joint listening to The Faith and Void (or any old DC band really) while viddying (Clockwork reference) the Banned In D.C. book simultaneously is so relaxing and such a cool enhanced listening experience that I highly recommend this weird kind of  Hardcore meditation. The book is great, definitely a great coffee table book for useless old retired Punks like me. I tried to see how many hot chicks were hanging out at DC shows based on the photographs, but pickings were slim, fellas. Better head south to Atlanta if you're looking for some top-shelf tail muchachos...

Chain Cult. Rocking post-Punk from Athens Greece. New LP Shallow Grave Out Now!

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Shallow Grave LP

Chain Cult are a three-piece crew from Athens, Greece that I thankfully discovered through the recommended videos on my Youtube app. I have found myself going back to this band's music quite often, as if compelled. They are part of a budding Greek Post-Punk scene, a scene recently revived from it's dormancy since it's salad days in the '80s. According to an article on diyconspiracy.net, there are currently 7 Greek bands that are genre-adjacent, not too shabby a number considering that the whole country is about the size of Florida! Also, take into consideration that currently there are only half as many bands in the style as that nation claimed in the '80s! I was aware of Greece having a strong Black Metal scene centered around a few very high quality bands, but I was oblivious to the fact that the small nation was such a hotbed for Post-Punk. 

Chain Cult's particular take on the genre is refreshing. Blending the driving guitar sound of bands like Joy Division and early The Cure with a more rocking approach, Chain Cult really takes its unique shape from the anthemic, Hardcore-style shouted vocals of their singer. To date they have released a strong demo in 2018, a two song digital EP titled Isolated, and now they have dropped an LP titled Shallow Grave on the UK-based label La Vida Es Un Mus Records (hit up the links, you little pinks.) 

    

demo 2018

I am particularly an admirer of their cover art, which up until now has featured imagery that is reminiscent of esoteric symbolism. To me it looks as if the artwork for all three of their releases were extracted right from freemasonry or O.T.O. books and it really adds a flare of mystery to this band. But imagery aside, Chain Cult can get by on the strength of their work, more specifically the hard work of the rhythm section. The bass lines throughout their work always standout, and not as a result of sound engineering. You can thank singer (just) Jason who gets the MVP for his double duty on bass guitar and vocals. Their music is full of passionate tone and off the top of my head I can't think of any bands that are completely similar in sound. The closest I can think of is maybe Second Empire Justice era Blitz ( you know, once they ditched all of the Skinhead stuff), only Chain Cult are more energetic and pack more of a punch than Blitz in the time period that I referenced. In fact, anything by Chain Cult can kick Blitz Second Empire Justice ass (ironic considering the latter's upstarts as a rugged Oi outfit.) 

Jason, Chain Cult's multi-tasking singer, adds new dimension to what's been previously thought that vocals in bands such as these should sound like. Whereas typically you would get mopey crooning in an anemic baritone droning away mournfully ( like an Ian Curtis or a Peter Murphy, etc.), the lyrics are sung with a spirited and energetic delivery, hence the parallel made earlier to Hardcore vocal stylings (particularly in the vein of "posi" style bands.) All allusions to Joy Division and The Cure aside, If you dug early '90s Emo or D.C.-style bands then this is right in your wheelhouse. Here you go, if you want my coveted quote to print as a pretentious blurb, you got it:

"Passionate and energetic, yet morose, and full of longing!  

There, print that on your front page"

                                                                           Lord Frank. Misanthropaganda blog

Isolated EP

My only complaint is that much like about 99.9% of all bands nowadays, Chain Cult has only released digitally thus far, and if/when they do drop a tactile release, it'll probably be on fucking vinyl, so that's it for me, I'm out! I'd love for them to have my twenty bucks, because I am a fervent believer in paying a musician for his work (especially if it speaks to you); and I certainly hate having to listen to a band that I enjoy by streaming them on Youtube rather than owning a piece of their music and holding it in my hand, but I hate digital downloads and I am just not going to make the switch over to vinyl! What do people have against the CD nowadays? Fucking cassettes are back in style now as well as vinyl and you are going to tell me that the CD is the one that's going obsolete! Fuck Me! These cockamamie labels can't press a couple of CDs along with the fucking vinyl and the cassettes? I'm just saying! I love CDs, they're all I collect. I'm 2000 plus deep at this point, I can't just switch to fucking vinyl at this point! But I digress...

Potential groupies of Chain Cult please take note- these boys are Greek; so be warned that if you are planning on offering yourselves as a sacrifice to one of these mortal gods of music, know that they are going to shoot straight for your dookie-hole! It's a time honored Greek custom, and I think it may be rude to refuse. Be forewarned... 

Ink Stinks! Tattoos are Bullshit!!!

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The term "cultural appropriation" seems to be very popular as of late. I'm sure it's pretty self evident what the term means, but in case you're completely dense, simply put, it is when one culture (race) borrows elements of another culture, which can be its fashion, food, language,music, etc. By definition it seems innocuous, doesn't it? It seems like just some old academic term that for decades has sat dormant inside dusty old sociology books. Today, however, cultural appropriation is a controversial topic because it is almost exclusively used to describe a dominant culture adapting the elements or traits of an oppressed minority culture. In other words, if you really want to piss off a college kid in Birkenstocks and a "Coexist" T-Shirt, show him a GIF image of a blonde named Amber dressed as sexy-Indian girl for Halloween! It is now considered insensitive to don those costumes because the far-leftists intercepted and ran with it past the forty, the thirty, the twenty, the ten... 

I went online and performed a Google search for "List of costumes that are considered culturally appropriative" and the list that came back was as follows ( and I'm telling you it is fucking ridiculous!) This list came from some website called bustle.com:

Sexy Ninja, Egyptian Queen (Cleopatra), Voodoo Witch Doctor, the aforementioned Sexy Indian girl, Sugar Skull (Mexican Day of the Dead),
Mariachis, Mexican hat and poncho, or Señorita, A Geisha, Bollywood star (wearing a Sari and Bindi), A Gypsy, and basically anything that can make a chick look smoking hot. And by the way, get a load of the model for the Ninja costume, the offensively blonde model, who's sizzlin' like a Benihana's grill... ma' donna!

Is the ideological war that is being waged one that is fought for the cause of social justice or is it an assault on adolescents' and young adult males' right to be allowed to view a little T and A (like Madame Butterfly over here ↖) on a holiday? 

Goddamn, you ever seen a Ninja with tits like that? Oo-fah! 

The wiki page on "cultural appropriation" lists a butt-load of examples of this senseless, horrible,vicious, insensitive act of political incorrectness by celebrities; most of said transgressions so ridiculously innocent that it baffles the mind that they sparked an outrage. I mean really?! Don't hot chicks get a pass?! When a hot chick goes out on Halloween dressed up as a horny Apache it is by no means meant as a social statement, believe me! She just wants to look hot! That's it! It isn't an assault on the native Americans...

But if we're really going to go all-in on this cultural appropriation racket, then let me be a voice to express outrage at the appropriation of MY culture... the underground, the counterculture. Think of how many elements of the counterculture, be they elements of the Metal, Punk or Hardcore scene have been cherry picked by the mainstream and adapted as part of the fashion of the day.The mohawk was adapted and modified into the "faux-hawk" by Jersey-shore types and similar douche-bags. Doc Martens went long before that, having become "cute little boots" for mall chicks a long time ago, whom also appropriated Manic Panic hair coloring (back in the Nirvana/Pearl Jam explosion of the early '90s.) Vintage, or distressed looking band t-shirts (be they of Hard Rock, Metal or Punk bands) have also been usurped; more often than not worn by Joe Schmoe civilians who have never heard a singular note played by the band they carry on their torso. "Huh? No I never really heard them, I just like the shirt cause of the skull" is the answer typically given by one of these ass-warts. Does anybody remember when Lady CaCa wore a leather jacket with Crust Punk patches on it? Every little teeny-bopper preppy chick from the private school down the street from my pad wears old-school Vans, while every third of those little broads owns a Thrasher magazine hooded sweatshirt. I could go on and on. It's been a rape of my people... the horror... the horror!

The main appropriation that really irritates me to the point that it makes my prostate swell up like a doughnut around my urethra is when I see full-blown civilians, everyday ham-and-eggers, brandishing tattoos. It's fucking sickening! You know, there used to be a time when a tattoo was a way taboo thing because having one was usually a sure bet that the wearer was either a criminal, an anti-social, a sideshow freak, some type of a bohemian or at best, military personnel. I think the earliest known use of them was by the Chinese and the Japanese for penal purposes to mark their criminals on the face and arms. In today's world, being tatted means that we are being insensitive to felons and are appropriating prison culture. So catch the next flight to El Salvador and take a burro-ride to the nearest luxury prison so that you can tell that entire cell-block that has MS13 inked on their faces that you are sorry that you have been stealing from them.  

Tattoos sort of maintained a close association to its early form as it remained a sort of beauty mark for rebels and antisocial ty for centuries. Wearing a tattoo was a clear indication that you were a denizen of the underworld, a person making a (reckless) long-lasting statement of separation from the mainstream. In short, getting tattooed was to voluntarily brand yourself as a misfit or outcast. 

My, oh my how things have changed! People nowadays get tattoos so often and so indiscriminately that it's not rare to see some 18 year old mojon go in for his first tattoo and walk out with a full fucking sleeve! It used to send parents into a tailspin if their kid got tatted up... now mother and daughter go in on daughter's 18th birthday for matching tramp-stamps! It's easier and more convenient than ever to get tats now also, since there is a tattoo parlor in every fucking strip mall in town. It's a fucking joke!

When I first started going to shows, it wasn't the mosh pit that intimidated me- the fists and feet whizzing past my face as bodies dove off of the stage and over head of me. It was the tattoos everywhere that really made me feel like I made a wrong turn at Albuquerque. I mean, I was like this 17 year old fat kid who had never even licked a pussy yet, and here were all these dudes in tank-tops with major tattoos all over them. I remember this one big galoot, Rich Thurston, looked like the fucking illustrated man by the time he was like 19 years old or something. That big lummox looked like he was on the farm team for the Hells Angels or some shit. Sure, later I'd come to find out that he was just a well-to-do fat dork who could afford a lot of ink. Nevertheless, at the time this was still unheard of, and so I would look at this big oaf and those tats would signal scene-cred to me. Today? The average garden variety tattoo enthusiast has never had ringing ears and black-and-blues from last night's gig. I never even used to see tattoos between Monday and Friday from 9 to 5! It was only at shows that I would see tats. Now, I wish a day went by that I didn't see a single fucking tattoo! Tattooing has exploded in such a way that it blows my mind how common and inconsequential they are. What once was a lightning rod for nasty looks is now a unisex cosmetic accessory! What once meant you were a subversive or an agitator of sorts now just means that you're probably the assistant manager at Chipotle. They used to be a way of marking criminals, now fucking bitch-ass cops get spider webs tattooed around their elbow. Nothing means anything anymore...   

The other thing is that while tattooing has gotten so widespread the diversity of tattoo subjects is not very broad at all. Generally, you see the same handful of designs on the same types of people. Here in Miami, probably the most common tattoo you'll see on a meat head is this fucking eyesore or a variation thereof:

Ah, yes, there is nothing like thorns to protect the fruit... 
Or, on broads, you'll see a lot of the 'rosary wrapped around the ankle', that's a popular one around these parts. The reason broads in Miami get the rosary around their ankle is because like good catholic girls they don't want to be sacrilegious and usually the ankle is the only part of their anatomy that doesn't end up part of a sex act. It almost seems as if all of the douche bags in town look at the next douche's tat and say to themselves "That's it, that's the one I want!" In a way, they're doing exactly that, probably by just picking whatever designs off of the flash on the walls instead of seeking some kind of originality or personal relevance. It's a free-for-all; and I know it's not just here in the Magic City, but Miami sure is ground zero for the boom. Wanna know why?

 It all started when dickhead Ami James (Miami Ink) with his Ed Hardy shirts and that other moron Kat Von Douche were each given their own mindfuck reality shows. Tattooing was brought to every home in America, and normalized. The new widespread media coverage came with a winning emotional formula concocted by the writers and/or producers that resulted in a homerun for the networks ( and the tattoo industry.) 

(Funny, isn't it? "Reality" shows actually have writers!)

The marketing angle they discovered is that if you lure in the saps by attaching some sentimentality to every goddamn tattoo they ink onto a motherfucker you then humanize tattooing. So that's why every single dildo that plops down on the tattoo artist's chair on these shows has a sob story behind their fucking tat. From what I've gathered by sampling any random stupid tattoo reality show of your liking, only Cancer patients, Rape victims and 9/11 survivors seem to get tattooed. 

  Often times on these brain-drain TV shows, the graphic image used to represent tragedies or major events are hardly even associated to what they symbolize:

"I have Rectal Cancer, Hank! The Doctors give me 3 months! Let me get a fuckin' Chinese dragon!"

It's like, just get your fucking tattoo because you want one and don't give it some big meaning! Not everything has to be so goddamn dramatic! 

The cat is out of the bag now, and there won't be any reeling it back in! Any random douchebag, whether hipster or "Bro" that has zero to do with the scene is fully tatted in shop-wall flash with a bone through their septum and wine corks through their earlobes. It doesn't mean that you're an antisocial, or a crusty "future-primitive" type, it just means you're a trendy fuckface idiot. Nothing is sacred!

So, to all old fogies like myself that may be reading this, or to budding young antisocial neophytes and misanthropists, consider your culture appropriated by the outside world! The new act of rebellion if you still need to make a statement in 2019AD will be to walk down the street naked with clean, unmarked skin, fully shaven, eyebrows and all, spray-painted silver from head to toe. It could be that or for the piercing crowd it will be getting your head shrunken or plates in the lips. How about amputation? Here, how much to have my cock removed? (Some good it does me having one!...)

 So now I ask you, where are the social justice warriors protesting the rape of the culture of the disenfranchised? Where is our parade where we can unite as one, a chorus of dissent against the appropriation of scumbag culture? Oh it's on February the 30th, thanks, I'll mark my calendar! I know I just ranted and raved about elements of counterculture sucked up by the civilians, but to much of my chagrin I'm almost certain that any anthropologist or sociologist will probably agree that appropriation, whether it is the Dominant culture appropriating from a minority or vice versa is probably a natural process of civilization. So alright, the SJWs have a cause to rally around and ultimately do nothing about, and I found a topic to write about for a few shits and giggles; but the truth is that anything and everything is fodder for appropriation. It's just the result of cross-contamination from one group of human scum to another group of human scum, it's only natural... It's sociology at work... It is what it is...

So for now we can just agree that ink fucking stinks! But I'll tell you one kind of ink that doesn't stink, and that is the Effigies' 1986 LP Ink. Originally, these Chicago toughs played lean and mean American Punk and can be credited as one of the first handful of American "Skinhead" bands, but later on their sound progressed into what you here on this LP and if you peep it you'll see they lost nothimg in their transition. This was there "major" label release on the classic Enigma imprint (hit the link for more info on the label. It was dope.) So here, brighten your day with this post-Punk gem from my latest musical obsession and leave the tattoos to NYC firefighters who are victims of prison sexual assault and are on dialysis...

Are you depressed? Need Help?

Are you depressed? Do you feel hopeless?

When depression strikes, it can render you useless, in a state where you may feel that suicide is the only way out. Here at MISANTHROPAGANDA,  a suicide hotline has been created to help those who find themselves in that very dark moment... I want you to know that there is someone out there ready to hear you out and talk you through this rough moment.

Just call:

1-(800)-SUICIDE

We’ve all been there before, with the gun at your temple, or the razor at your wrist, but fear has kept you from going off into the unknown. At the MISANTHROPAGANDA suicide hotline, we can give you that added push you need to make abstract art on your bedroom walls with your brains.

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And remember kids, Sideways gets you the attention, but Longways gets you results!

PunkNews.Org equals sophomoric, fecal-grade music journalism

note: misanthropaganda is so much more fun when you view it on your desktop or laptop. Your tablet is fine I guess, as is your phone, but for full enjoyment and understanding of the artist's (ha ha) vision, take my suggestion. It gives the posts a look that's a bit more reminiscent of an old 90's fanzine layout, which is the whole point of this bullshit blog...

I thought I was done for the day. I had finally posted the 'Extinction' bit after wrestling with the fucking thing for like a month. A sense of accomplishment flooded my synapses. Now, for some leisure reading, a little Sunday night escapism before returning to tomorrow's waiting nightmares. So I started Google-searching for music reviews of The Effigies Reside album, since I am soon to order it and was just curious as to what the know-it-alls think of it. The first review that came up was from PunkNews.Org so I gave them the click. As I got through the first paragraph I quickly surmised from the hack writer's preamble that perhaps this particular Effigies joint may not be their best. I was prepared for that because I've allowed myself small snippets of the album on Youtube and I didn't hear anything that fucks my head up like the singles "Haunted Town", "Body Bag" or the Forever Grounded and Ink LPs. 

But in further reading, this cocksucker writer, in order to illustrate another point, the point being that great bands should not be judged solely upon a bad record, called out God Of Love by the mighty, mighty Bad Brains as an "embarrassment". I almost fell off of my barstool. First of all, how can anyone refer to anything by the Brains as an embarrassment and not be struck by lightning? Second of all, where the fuck do you get your balls to talk about that record? Okay, the title track is a little bit wonky, but hardly. But to get there you have to go through the opener, "Cool Mountaineer" which is straight fire, not atypical of the Brains. Next up, "Justice Keepers", still bearing some similitude to true Brains form but with an update, a mixing board refresh that made them sound really lush, and a groove relevant to its time of release. Nevertheless, "Justice Keepers" is dope, it's just different, and Mr. Music Review at that bullshit website does not have the supertouch needed to understand the Brain's vision. And even if you skip "Over The Waters" (even though I wouldn't, it's probably one example of the Bad Brains finest moments in Reggae mode), you'd land on track 8, "Darling I Need You". Hold on a sec, I want to illustrate my point... Please listen (not hear) this song...         

Between HR's soulful singing on that sweet sounding intro, to that fast break propelled by nothing more than Darryl Jennifer's bass and single ringing chords from Doc, to the chunky breakdown at the tail end of the cut, I fail to see where embarrassment is warranted...

Can I do without "To The Heavens", track 9 of this album ? Sure, I guess. It's a song that I can play for my kid and maybe get a reaction from him, in other words it sounds juvenile. A throwaway for sure, if you absolutely must trim all of the fat from the steak, even though the fat is often what gives the steak its flavor. The flavor in this case being the songs that seem to have originated more out of HR's vision, which I feel the last three tracks are mostly of his doing. Sure, HR is an oddball, but up until God Of Love, the man had brought six classic albums into our little world, goddamnit, indulge his eccentricities. Besides, the album closer "How I Love Thee" is kind of dope, that is, if you smoke weed. Oh shit, and how could I have almost forgotten to have mentioned Doc's solos throughout the joint are on some other shit, showing so much proficiency and soul, and mixed masterfully I'd like to point out as well. While the knobs definitely got tweaked on this record to give Doc a bit of a fuller, more contemporary Heavy Metal-like sound, the end resulting tone is not overbearing in the least. It sounds just right and well in the context of the albums overall sound.

But having to sit here and pose an argument for anything that the Brains have ever laid down is sacrilegious, and on a Sunday no less! I will sing no further glories of these four prophets of positivity because their works alone shall speak for them. However, I suggest to the nameless hack writer who punched up that piece of shit review that the next time, if ever, he sees the Bad Brains somewhere he should politely ask them if he could pull out all four of their dicks and suck them simultaneously, deeply and profusely for his blasphemous insult at the greatest Punk, nay, greatest Rock band ever. Shit, forget the insult, he should rim their assholes one at a time based alone on the importance of the Brains' contribution and influence on Punk and Hardcore music. The band, they may not be down for some batty shit, though. They're fabled to be quite homophobic, in true Rasta fashion. 

Show Of Bedlam ... Insane asylum post-Doom from Montreal

I am beyond excited about Transfiguration, the second album by the Montreal, Quebec band Show Of Bedlam. I first discovered Show Of Bedlam in the fall of 2012 when I was a staff writer for doom-metal.com. Their debut album Roont was among the first records assigned to me for review and I remember being instantly drawn in by their intriguing style. Show Of Bedlam play sludgy, post-Doom Metal psychosis that looms over your ears with colossal riffs that spare no tonnage before collapsing into eerie, quiet clean parts that sound like they were penned from within padded cells.

Roont plays like a bloodletting, equal parts psychological and emotional courtesy of their tremendous frontwoman. Hell hath no fury like Paulina Richards, who's vocals go from a psychotic, visceral bellow to a banshee's wail, to a full-throated scream that makes the hair on my arms stand on end. It almost sounds like the music is written around her vocals. Not to mention her stage presence that seems more like witnessing the psychodrama of a woman at the end of her sanity. Transfiguration, released in May of 2017 is a furthering of what began on its predecessor, a continuum from one masterful work of dark art to another.

Quite frankly I'm disappointed with myself that I just now realized this was out, but in my defense I frequent several underground musical sites to keep somewhat in touch with what's doing in the music world and Show Of Bedlam gets zero coverage. (Nice job, Decibel!) I don't know if that's intentional on the band's part, but certainly it's criminal if so. Not for nothing but I can easily see this band going to a better label than its current employers, releasing on say, maybe, Tribes Of Neurot for example. Hopefully they are still active... 

Nevertheless I've always been a huge proponent of this band, hence the purpose of this post, being done in the hopes to put out just one more mention of them into the web because there is so little as is. (Isn't that altruistic of me? Especially considering I paid twenty bucks a pop for both albums. No Payola going on here I assure you! I'm a giver!) This is a true hidden gem. Nothing sounds as completely mental as this does. This is perfect for fans of psychosis from skipping meds for a week. I found a promo on Youtube from when they released their debut in 2012 that I've embedded for the readers enjoyment to see if I can spark some curiosity. Check out the totally misanthropic sample that kicks off the cut! This band is fucking fantastic, as you're about to hear for yourself...

   
             

L.V.G. (La Vieja Guardia) Cuban Hardcore from Miami.

 I was performing a Google search on my old Hardcore band L.V.G. (La Vieja Guardia) in order to see if perhaps there were some images online from shows or show-flyers that I don't already have or perhaps haven't seen yet. It was part of an effort to put together some graphics in order to dress up an article that I was going to write for this blog about said group. My therapist thought it would be great for me to actually write again, preferably about something that I am proud of, an accomplishment of sorts, instead of the usual doom and gloom misanthropy; so I figured I'd give my old band 15 seconds of non-fame. Though short-lived and went nowhere fast, L.V.G. was a major bullet point on my very short musical resume that I am most proud of. The aforementioned non-fame wouldn't be undeserving by the way. After all, the L.V.G. 5 song E.P. on I SCREAM Records easily stands in the 10 greatest releases of Miami Hardcore, ( that is, if we are indeed talking of Hardcore), a claim that I will later address and state my case for. Once my Google search came back, I came across this article by some hack freelance writer titled Miami's 15 Best Hardcore Bands. I clicked on it enthusiastically, thinking that certainly L.V.G. would be on that list... We weren't...  

Oh, of course, it's an article for the Miami New Times, an institution of half-ass, hack/hipster journalism since before hipsters were hipsters when South Beach was still actually "a thing". The writer of this article, the marginal Abel Folgar listed what he thought were the greatest  "Hardcore" bands this city has had to offer but his list fell flat... It came short... It sucked... I'm going to dismantle the article a little bit before I get back to the task at hand of self-indulgent glorification of the mighty L.V.G.

First of all, and really least of all, within that mix of 15 local acts, the writer listed bands such as Holly Hunt and Floor, which aren't even hardcore bands (let alone Load, Chocolate Grasshopper, etc.) I like both of these bands (the prior two), and I own their recordings, but I don't put their records on when I want to listen to Hardcore.

The writer tried to excuse the inclusion of these bands into the mix by saying that their attitude is hardcore but he totally deviated from the headline. I think all he knows are 15 local bands total, let alone Hardcore bands. His spectrum went just a little bit broad for his limited perspective. Perhaps some Adderall when he writes might help. Some research would help too. By the way, why 15? Isn't 10 the gold standard of lists?

Miami Hardcore is Miami Hardcore, period. Those two words capitalized next to each other represent a list that doesn't go beyond perhaps 15 bands, total, all of which with interchangeable members! The truly important ones he glossed right over, like Out Of Spite, Timescape Zero, Mindframe. You're only credible nominations were that of Mehkago N.T. (which is not really a Hardcore band either, but OK), ANGER (which really should've been number one) and DNME. But even then, in the section on DNME, all you wrote was, and I quote:

"I was going to say all kinds of incredible things about DNME and how awesome they were when they were around but all I can think of right now is how sad life has been since drummer Alex Del Bueno passed away on October of 2008. Has it really almost been six years since the community service was in full effect? Jesus. Now I'm completely saddened and my only hope is that wherever Al is, he's got himself a nice Crown on ice."

That's it! That's all he wrote... pun intended. The guy got to his number one pick, the top of the heap of his crap showcase article and that was all he was able to muster. Certainly there are points with which to support the claim that DNME is (was) top of the food chain, like the band's dynamics, their role in the Miami scenes chronology and it's individual members impressive resumes. It would take a scene-cognoscenti to list these points, however, and  perhaps this particular gentleman is just not in the know. (By the way, he also listed Hialeah band BRETHREN, which were certainly a reputable 90's band, but only half as dope as the L.V.G.) As for Mr. Folgar, I sure as hell have never seen his ugly mug at a Hardcore show in my entire life, and I became a part of the Miami Hardcore scene in it's golden age, which was the wee early 90's. That's two decades plus of paying dues! As a matter of fact, when you go to that great blog The South Florida Music Scene Past And Present, my little ass is standing right there in that crowd shot representing in the mosh-pit. (A little self-aggrandizement never hurt anyone.) That pic was taken at a 108 show (circa 96/97 I believe) at the Miami venue Cheers. 

(Also in that pic from the old Miami scene that I can pick out are Andrew Logan, Brett 'Bane', Bunde One, Charles Obregon, Julian Del Bueno, Ray 'Coma', Felipe Mena (R.I.P.), Pete Carrino- who was a douche and always smelled humid, and Big Joe Sanford)


To give my friend the writer/author the benefit of the doubt, perhaps the lack of due documentation or the short lifespan of my old band are the reasons that we never made it into his prodigious radar and subsequently onto his fuck-ass list. Also, this article was written in 2014, quite some time after the L.V.G. had broken up and right around the time that I stopped giving a shit about Hardcore and became a hermit. So, in the original spirit and purpose of this post, and in order to educate those interested, and the hack writer in question, I bring you the authorized story of the L.V.G., La Vieja Guardia. It was due time, because frankly it would be a damn shame to not document the brief existence of this truly great sounding Hardcore band/record. 

(Besides, what the fuck else do I have to write about on here?)

To tell the story of L.V.G. we must first mention Miami melodic punk band Guajiro. Guajiro formed in 2005. At that point they had self-released a 5 song EP which I had picked up randomly at a record store. The EP really caught my attention due to the very pronounced musical influence of Husker Du, a personal favorite. The Husker Du influence would not be all that intrigued me, but also the fact that these guys were doing it in Spanish really drew me in, since I was in a phase then of trying to reconnect with my cultural background, so I was listening to a lot more Spanish-language music at the time. I saw them play for the first time at an art gallery in Wynwood on December 17th 2005. 

That night, hours prior to the show, by sheer fluke I met their drummer Doug McKinnon at a convenience store across the street from where the gig was to take place and we sort of hit it off based on our conversation where we found the common ground of both being old Hardcore kids from the early 90's. McKinnon touted a rather impressive resume, having done stints as drummer in a few big underground names such as Boston's legendary yet abhorrent Slapshot, then over on the west coast with Ignite, the Vandals and Speak 714. We exchanged numbers and a semi-friendship formed, and subsequently through him I became acquainted with the rest of the band. 

In 2006 Guajiro ended up getting signed to I SCREAM Records who would put out their debut full-length. When studio time came around, McKinnon wanted to have at least one old-style Hardcore song on the album to show that this band had roots from that scene- a dog whistle of sorts.

So he and Guajiro guitarist Dave Santos wrote an instrumental and enlisted myself and Miami-scene Capo-regime "Dirty" Harry Bosch to throw down the lyrics and vocals. Harry at the time was doing MEHKAGO N.T. (in my top 5 favorite bands of all time), but was also known for fronting DNME and Out Of Spite. As for myself, asides from experimenting with some lo-fi hip-hop stuff, I had not done anything musically since my early 90's band Burning Strong. The song we did with Guajiro became titled 'Delincuente', Spanish for 'delinquent'. Harry and I came into the studio, penned the lyrics, went into the booth and nailed it on the first fucking take. Producer Darren Randall was working the boards, and he gave his respects. Mic drop... that's a wrap, motherfuckers. 

Everybody got super stoked by the track, and it was agreed upon by all of Guajiro's members that this song needed to be part of the live set with Harry and I singing. However, McKinnon was not satisfied with one meager serving of the musical style that was closer to his heart than the bright melodies of his main band. You can take a cat out of the jungle, but you can't take the jungle out of the cat. It was at this time that talks emerged about doing a batch of songs in the vein of 'Delincuente' and putting them on a recording. The L.V.G. had been born. 

A pic from an early rehearsal.

I came up with the name "La Vieja Guardia" which in Spanish means 'the old guard'. I felt it was a fitting name, since that's precisely what this band's  integrants were- we were old school Hardcore guys doing a 90's revival record.  At that time, we consisted of myself, Doug McKinnon on drums, Dirty Harry Bosch and Dave Santos on guitar. We soon started rehearsing in Guajiro's practice space and thanks to the riff-machine that is Harry Bosch we soon had six songs of our own (one that would never go on to be recorded.) We practiced these songs till they were air-tight, over and over. We practiced until we became hostile towards each other in rehearsal. Then around that time a string of really wild house shows went down in Miami that year, at which we played a few with Dave switching from guitar to bass duty for the purpose of the live sound. There was a tremendous response from the crowd, which in 2006 was composed of a rather eager new batch of kids at shows that were full of energy and hungry for Miami's version of the Revolution Summer, which to me, in many ways, 2006 was just that. It was a glorious time where Hardcore kids, Punks and Long-hairs coexisted in perfect disharmony. The time to record was now at hand. 


We went into Southern Noise studios to record the E.P. with Jon Nunez of SHITSTORM who would produce and fill in on bass guitar for the recording sessions. Jon's improvised bass solo on our song Hialeah DeathStomp still gives me goosebumps.

I think it took us about a week to record the 5 songs that ended up being put out by I SCREAM Records, no doubt thanks to affiliation with Guajiro through Doug. I didn't really feel that I SCREAM was the right label for us. I really felt that we should have gone with a Latin label, one with a distribution focus on central and south America, not a label based out of Belgium. At that time there was a lot of really cool happenings coming from Latin America in terms of Hardcore music that I wanted to be a part of. In the end I SCREAM was the one that we went with. I guess it was kind of cool, for me anyways, to be label-mates with such names as Maximum Penalty, Beowulf and Token Entry. 

With an E.P. out, it was time to fill in the bass guitarist slot with a steady member. A few people were auditioned, but nobody quite fit the mold. I don't think that there was any real prerequisite qualifications that we were looking for, it was more of a certain attitude that needed to be possessed. Also, in all fairness, nobody that we auditioned could tolerate the often contentious nature of our bands interactions with one another during practice. It could get very tense, very quickly in that little room. Like I said earlier, we practiced our songs till we became hostile towards each other. The fact was that we were all guys in our late 30's at the time who were very set in our uniquely neurotic ways, and in my particular case, very angry, unmedicated and out of control. 

After an unfruitful search, finally the right fit bassist would appear in the persona ( and I do want to stress the word 'persona') of former ANGER alumnus and well-known sociopath Willy "The Nasal Snowstorm" Medina. Willy was actually a tremendous lead guitarist but he really dug what we were doing conceptually and did not mind at all switching from guitar for bass duties.

There was no audition, he was in from the beginning mention. If you can boast affiliation to the mighty ANGER, you have got all the credentials you need to play in my Hardcore band. Just listen to their classic jam Winds Of Violence, just to name one of many unsung classics from this Miami band and tell that you can't put it up against anything on "Age Of Quarrel". Willy was, and probably still is, a fucking nut that fit perfectly with us old rusty bolts. His dexterity as a lead guitarist translated  perfectly onto the fretboard of the bass guitar, and he was loud, obnoxious and abrasive enough to hold his own during heated band practices. The L.V.G. was complete, a motley crew of misanthropes indeed.

Unfortunately, completion of the circle would not mean that it would roll forward. Asides from playing some cool shows at home and a couple of out-of-town gigs with MADBALL, and playing the Tattoo Convention, L.V.G. would pretty much die while still on the vine. There were lots of elements working against our survival as a band, from the demands of my employment which limited my ability to tour, to the fact that L.V.G. was everybody's side band; everybody but mine.

It started to feel like L.V.G. was some slut that everybody goes to fuck when their girlfriend is out with her friends. I had also come to a point personally where I did not want to be associated to Hardcore anymore just because I did not like the direction that I started seeing the scene take musically and as an attitude in general. We all came to the agreement that we had run our course, and so L.V.G. played our last show with AGNOSTIC FRONT on the 5th of February, 2009 at Churchill's Pub, Miami's version of CBGB's. What an oddly appropriate band to play a last show with, I thought, since Agnostic Front's "Live At CBGBs" cassette was among the first four Hardcore records that I got as an outcast kid in 8th grade who was just discovering this incredible underground scene. They were my "Blood In", and on that night they would be my "Blood Out" of Hardcore.

Do I have any regrets, as far as how far we took it, or could have? No, none at all. I was not a young man any longer, at least I did not feel like one. It became evident to me on those two 'away' shows with MADBALL that I was already too neurotic and grumpy for the road, much less with four other neanderthals in tow. I was already way too domesticated by my soon to be wife and was very into the comforts of my home and my pets. At the very least, I was able to scratch that itch that every old Hardcore kid gets about every 10 years or so to make a little bit of ruckus. I was able to scratch that itch with a record that I am really proud of. 

So to Abel Folgar, and anyone who may have read and gotten offended by my claim that the L.V.G. should have been on that list, I will now present my case, for your consideration....

Look, musically L.V.G. wasn't inventing the wheel. How far can you go with Hardcore without it morphing into something else? We were doing our take on formulas that already existed from the very late 80's and into the 90's. I think if you were to listen for old-school influences, one can detect a little bit of WARZONE, maybe some CRO-MAGS, even some post-Hardcore flavor of bands like ATLAS SHRUGGED or BURN is present.

One undeniable element that made L.V.G. exceptional in my view is the sincerity of emotion and the spirit of the music. Those five songs would make the hair on my arms stand up like needles when I would perform, or even when I listen to them today the effect has not diminished. The product speaks for itself. Those songs are executed razor tight, with no emotion compromised. Of course, none of which could have been achieved without the riff mastery of Harry Bosch, one of the musicians that I have had the most admiration for throughout my years in music. Every band that Harry has ever formed has been in some way detrimental to the survival of the South Florida Hardcore scene and the man is an encyclopedia of music for misanthropes. I can say that I was bandmates with Harry Bosch, my career in Hardcore was now complete, even though our friendship of almost three decades persists till this day. 

Musicality aside, L.V.G.'s lyrical content is ultimately what really set us aside from the Miami Hardcore pack. Riding on the back of our homegrown Hardcore sound was a homegrown attitude, a truly 'Miami' approach to lyricism that gave LA VIEJA GUARDIA its true unique flavor. L.V.G. would be an all Spanish language Hardcore band which up until us, and I don't believe since, has there been a band like that in Miami.

I always found it odd that there weren't other bands that wrote in all Spanish, a scene that was almost entirely comprised of Latin kids. ANGER only had like two songs in Spanish I think (NI PINGA!). We wanted to throw it down not only in Spanish, but in Miami/Cuban slang. I tried to incorporate as much deep Cuban slang and idioms into the lyrics and they just worked. I know that it would be a little alienating to do so, but it was the only way to write THE Miami Hardcore record, a job which I believe we did successfully. Also, I wanted Cuba to have its hat in the ring, up until that point, traditional Hardcore had not reached the island yet despite a burgeoning Punk scene. 

I put a lot of heart into those lyrics, which at the end of the day is what gives a Hardcore band its greatness and its legitimacy. I challenge any Spanish speaker/reader to listen to that record while following along with the lyrics and not have their emotions stirred by our track 'Entre Hermanos', or the esoteric philosophies espoused in 'Moyugba Ache'.  The spirit of Hardcore is ever present in that recording that I am endlessly proud of. At the very least, when all is said and done, we contributed something truly solid to the zeitgeist, a bittersweet testament to Miami Hardcore that will stand the test of time, and for that I am eternally grateful to those four neanderthals.