Leatherface - The Stormy Petrel

2010 was a pretty bleak year in this rocking world, with Viva Death’s Curse The Darkness being the pick of the bunch with its jagged lines and insanity in the music. Hot on its heels was another album infused with madness, but it comes through the microphone of Frankie Stubbs rather than the hands of Scott Shiflett. Stubbs is one of rock’s most beloved crazy mumbling old granddads, and while he may never write something quite as warped as Dog Disco’s “Red Diesel”, his gravelly tones and obscure lyrics are backed as strongly as ever by a solid wall of rock that rarely wavers, unlike the man’s fashion sense, which saw him looking like Fidel Castro around this period.

“God Is Dead” plods forth to open proceedings, and while it’s not horrible, it doesn’t really let us into the strengths of The Stormy Petrel. It lays the formula bare and exposed, with a heavier bias on one line refrains and the switching of gears with guitar moods. While the dual guitars on the BYO Split Series Volume 1 release and Horsebox album maintained a stoutness through most of the material, and Dog Disco had been particularly aggressive, the return of founding member Dickie Hammond to the outfit sees two fairly distinctive feels. The Stormy Petrel doesn’t snarl like its predecessor at all on the majority of its songs, and the sound usually steps clearly from gentle and nice to a bit less gentle and nice and a bit fuller, and back again.

“My World’s End” is an early enough encroachment into this pattern that you’re halfway through the album before you’ve decided what the general sound is. The aggression isn’t as explosive as the previous record, and it’s further hampered by an increasingly hoarse Stubbs, and the efforts of the new rhythm team being squashed. Bassist Graeme Philliskirk and drummer Stefan Musch aren’t exactly inaudible, but you feel that they’re mixed down too much, with the exception of one rattling hat on Musch’s kit, which you notice all too much while it’s there and all too confusingly when it’s gone and you hear how much quieter the rest of his kit is. Nevertheless, the overall ominous effect is achieved, and it’s a decent track that kicks the album into life a bit more where “God Is Dead” couldn’t quite manage.

This is one of those albums where the meat is in the middle. Not necessarily all the best bits, but where the sound of the album is imprinted. “Never Say Goodbye” was considered a focus track, and it has a reasonable pace, a distinctive guitar piece that sets itself apart as a lead guitar, typical melodies, halfway sane lyrics, and a sort of catchiness. Back in the 90s, the band would release this as a single like “Do The Right Thing” or “Not Superstitious”, but alas, the world had moved on, the music world had moved gradually online, and John Peel was too busy resting in peace to back the band, so no such release materialised. Like the aforementioned singles, there isn’t much about this song that stands out, it’s simply one of the band’s more refined songs. Apart from being a little bit more charming, toothless, and radio friendly, this song is very much a representation of the album’s sound.

As it happens, most of the best cuts are indeed in the middle. “Nutcase” features buoyant ascents and descents, a steady driving beat, more energy, and the return of some hallmark crazy lyrics. The cold curry breakfast from “Bakelite” is recalled, and a catchy chorus seals the deal for one of the album’s shortest pieces. “Broken” follows and slows things right down, with a simple guitar riff opening up and stealing the show from the rest of the whole album. Like “Nutcase” before, it benefits from not hanging its coat on one line, and another great chorus with well timed backing vocals, along with great build-ups, ensures that a sense of power stays with the song despite its pace, and makes it the pick of the record. Without stalwart drummer Andrew Laing in the band for the first significant time, the backing vocals on the record are unsurprisingly restrained, but Hammond and Philliskirk deliver when it counts. The rhythm section feels like it has gained momentum too, with the bass given room to breathe on both songs.

“Another Dance” follows, and unfortunately doesn’t build on the success of its predecessors, finding itself somewhere between the opener and “Never Say Goodbye”. A nice but forgettable opening riff gives way to simplistic guitars and bland vocal melodies, and a decent wind down and wind up unfortunately only leads to more of the same. “Diego Garcia” is much more interesting, with an initial lead guitar that recalls At The Drive-In, more politically charged lines (expressing sympathy to the relocation of inhabitants in the name of the United States building a military base on the British-owned atoll), and an excellent breakdown where the backing vocals shine.

Next on the menu is “Monkfish”, which is a steady, if unspectacular track. It’s fairly sulky, with Stubbs’ lyrical lunacy punctuated with a couple of unconvincing whoops (did they ever fully recover from accidentally mixing those screams into “How Lonely”?). The chorus, which barely avoids being a monolinear refrain, is a nice change up that gives the song some substance, if not style. “Disgrace” follows, and is a bit on the strange side. A level of aggression is displayed unlike anywhere else on the record. It may not match the level of “Red Diesel” or “Rabbit Pie Alibi”, but it sounds like it could be a slightly slower “Dustbin Modo”, with a snarling riff and Stubbs cramming in lines where lines don’t fit, with more swearing than usual. Next thing you know, you’ve got a cheery one line chorus that’s a complete non sequitur at first, and the second time through the song appears to lighten up, although it’s a short enough song that it doesn’t really last.

The album certainly hasn’t taken a nosedive by this point, but does sound a little thin on ideas. Luckily for us, a couple of strong cuts ensure that things don’t tail off. “Belly Dancing Stoat” chugs along quietly, and aside from more intricate riffs, manages to succeed without anything spectacular. The songs build up nicely, nothing’s leaned on too heavily, the backing vocals are again used well, and there’s an excellent dynamic without any pace changes being used. “Isn’t Life Just Sweet?” isn’t actually an original piece of music. An unreleased instrumental recorded during the sessions for their half of BYO Split Series Volume 1, tentatively titled “Unfurnished”, is rerecorded, tinkered with, and has lyrics applied to it. It’s not a bad song, but although the instrumental sounded like it needed words, “Isn’t Life Just Sweet?” doesn’t convince me that Stubbs found the right ones. The instrumental break which had originally featured a nicely building if unspectacular dual lead sounds more like a three-step building dual rhythm here. If you know “Unfurnished” you might be a little underwhelmed, but otherwise it’s a solid track.

“Hope” finishes the album in an unusual style. The extra instrumentation used gives it a sort of seafaring air, which probably has something to do with the title of the record. However, it’s not the strongest way to finish the record, and hearing Stubbs using the perpetually annoying cheap walkie-talkie vocal effect in the verses is particularly disappointing. Yet another solitary line makes up the chorus, and while it’s not the worst on the album, that it’s used as much as it is, particularly when seeing out the album, really drives that particular weakness of the record home. The music, for its oddities, isn’t so bad, and had the verses been stronger and sung through a microphone instead of an answering machine, I would probably be praising “Hope” as a nice closer.

With half a dozen years gone by, and with Stubbs the only member of the band since Dog Disco performing here, it was inevitable that The Stormy Petrel would sound significantly different. While undoubtedly one of the finest records to come out of 2010, it doesn’t stack up that brilliantly as a piece, and I wouldn’t rank it as highly as Mush, Minx, Horsebox, the split disc, or even Cherry Knowle or Dog Disco. That being said, this has just as many, if not more, great tracks on it than any of the aforementioned. The songs are of such strength that I couldn’t strip away a couple of bland tracks and rearrange to come up with a shorter but better album, and am simply left grinding my teeth over the flaws that prevent this from being a genuinely great album. With all said and done, if you’re in the mood for some good solid rock without wanting to listen to a full album as a singular experience, The Stormy Petrel is as good an addition to your shelf as any.

Personal picks: Broken, Nutcase, Belly Dancing Stoat

Picks for others: Broken, Diego Garcia, Never Say Goodbye

Relative weaknesses: God Is Dead, Another Dance

Tracklist

01 – God Is Dead

02 – My World’s End

03 – Never Say Goodbye

04 – Nutcase

05 – Broken

06 – Another Dance

07 – Diego Garcia

08 – Monkfish

09 – Disgrace

10 – Belly Dancing Stoat

11 – Isn’t Life Just Sweet?

12 – Hope

Jawbreaker - 24 Hour Revenge Therapy

After a promising start as a pop punk outfit with a gritty edge on Unfun, Jawbreaker began to experiment quite heavily, and the material on the Bivouac LP and Chesterfield King EP in 1992 came across as a confused mess. The songs weren’t bad, but a lot of energy was removed at times, leaving us with a record and a half of either flat or angry material. Despite the fact that the erratic nature of the formula brought up some great tracks (“Parabola”, bassist Chris Bauermeister’s “Sleep”, and “Face Down” spring to mind), the song from this part of the band’s history that gets revered above all others is “Chesterfield King”, a dull-sounding, ill-fitting cheery track that fails to live up to the hype.

The reason why a dull track became so celebrated? Not as shocking as you might think. Jawbreaker took their new sound and applied it to a more sensible rock formula. 1994’s 24 Hour Revenge Therapy had just as much creative flair, but it was channelled into a more relatable vein rather than diluted in multiple directions. Nevertheless, it signalled a return to a sort of melodic punk, although the music was more mature. This was the music that Jawbreaker were remembered for, and “Chesterfield King” was the only thing from the Bivouac era that vaguely fit that mould.

The hoarse post-throat surgery vocal delivery of Blake Schwarzenbach gives the album a different feel, as well as being the subject of some of the lyrical content. Indeed, the last recorded track before surgery, “Kiss The Bottle”, sees Schwarzenbach’s voice resembling that of Rancid’s Matt Freeman, and I dread to think how 24 Hour Revenge Therapy would have turned out with that style of mad drunkard Louis Armstrong performance.

Immediately signalling a more lively performance, the drum roll that ferries “The Boat Dreams From The Hill” into port is anchored by simple but fun guitar chords, something the band had seemingly forgotten about. Without going overboard, it announced to the world that Jawbreaker was back to doing what it did best, but with a better sound. “Indictment” is one of what would prove to be some infamously ironic digs at major labels (1995’s Dear You album was released on DGC Records, and featured a smooth, smoky new singing voice from Schwarzenbach), and featured a slightly more restrained pace, but you can hear the busy drumming of Adam Pfaler wrestling to be noticed despite its blunted sound. With a working title of “Scathing Indictment Of The Pop Industry”, one of Jawbreaker’s most preachy songs proved to be the most flippant.

The band’s shortest track in their career, “Boxcar” is the only one to limbo underneath the two minute mark. Despite being another fingerpointing track, it highlighted a more historically agreeable sentiment. The expressed disillusionment with the punk scene may not have been the primary reason that they sounded so different a year later, but would have been a conspiring factor in their breaking up in 1996, when that scene had become as disillusioned with the band and booed the three-piece they once loved. The track itself is a bit more energetic and concise than “Indictment”, and although that was no bad track, having the similar but marginally better “Boxcar” after it makes it seem a little weaker than it actually is. Like “The Boat Dreams From The Hill”, “Boxcar” was rerecorded back in San Francisco in August 1993, after the band decided they weren’t happy with the versions recorded alongside what would become the bulk of the album that May in Chicago with Steve Albini.

“Outpatient” is where the music becomes more musically interesting. A relaxed intro eases its way in with Schwarzenbach painting pictures of hospital events around the surgery. With the shortest three tracks out of the way, “Outpatient” is stretched a bit thinner, giving Bauermeister’s four strings a chance to make themselves known, and the pace and energy change step a couple of times. There’s an instrumental break in the middle of the song that’s a bit dull, but it’s a minor blemish, leaving us with a track that stands out from those preceding it without making us dismiss them as trite. “Ashtray Monument” sees a temporary return to a more punk sound, although it’s more aggressive and features palm muting. This song is notable for introducing a more sincere anger to the record, a memorable pre-chorus hook, and Schwarzenbach’s inability to say the word “bottle” without a magic letter H. For a long time I wondered why there would be a “butthole on the nightstand”, but this is far less amusing to me than the aforementioned final track before these, "Kiss The Bottle", which of course our man sings as "Kiss The Butthole".

The third track recorded in San Francisco was “Condition Oakland”, and all of Schwarzenbach’s pompous poetry love comes to the fore. Charged, dynamic riffs steam along while the frontman talks about hoping to hear railway tracks sing and being an avid reader, but at least he admits that he’s crazy in the chorus, which is the highlight of a great track that’s marred by the use of sampling at the end. 24 Hour Revenge Therapy is very light on sampling as far as Jawbreaker records go, but it’s no less welcome. Beatnik Jack Kerouac rambles along to the piano of Steve Allen in periods of musical respite. Schwarzenbach may love Kerouac, but the only notable bit for me was mishearing him, thinking he said “…you can always see above the lesbian alley, puffs floating by from Oakland…”, and I was disappointed to find out that this was inaccurate. “Ache” was originally rejected from the Bivouac sessions. The chorus sounds a little like the one lively part of “Chesterfield King”, but the rest of the song is slow and downbeat, and we’re left with a song with an ebb and flow that complements “Condition Oakland” remarkably well. Bivouac’s loss is 24 Hour Revenge Therapy’s gain.

The highlight of the record comes fairly late on. “Do You Still Hate Me?” is vibrant and fairly direct, but it’s a cut above the likes of the opening tracks, and then some. A solid opening riff, fast work from Pfaler, an airy sing-along chorus and a simple but catchy yell-along-hoarsely post-chorus all contribute to the most tangible evidence of the band at the top of their game. No singles were released from the record, but if one was, this was the A-side, no question. “West Bay Invitational” brings back the sort of ill-tempered guitar that we saw in “Ashtray Monument”, and it’s of roughly similar quality for the most part, but without any vocal riff to take your attention as much. It’s no slouch, but fails to shine how most of the tracks have.

Ploughing to the back end of this album, “Jinx Removing” comes next, and it’s exactly what “Chesterfield King” wanted to be. An uplifting, slightly silly love song full of energy gives us the perfect cure to the stressed “West Bay Invitational”, while “Chesterfield King” failed to make a dent into a largely sulking album. Nevertheless, the record finishes in a downtrodden fashion. “In Sadding Around” builds up steadily. Bass meets palm muted guitar and low end drums, a sullen voice joins in, and then a feedback swarm slips into the background. The drums build up, a chunky snare steps up, the palm stops muting the guitar, and finally the chorus brings everything together with full drumming and a brilliantly sung chorus. An extended second chorus sees the album out, and while it wasn’t the kiss off that we were looking for, it’s a fine one that the album deserves.

What the album didn’t deserve was to be shortened. Also recorded during the Albini session were two songs that remained unreleased until the Etc compilation brought them into daylight. “First Step” is a little unusual in the way the guitar sounds at times, but its frenetic guitar work, outstanding tempo shift, tidy bridge, and sound vocal performance all point towards an album highlight. “Friends Back East” is a shorter number with a bouncy opening guitar and powerful kick in the hind legs, the last verse ending on the memorable line “my life’s a running joke, what am I running for?” as the guitar grits its teeth some. Both of these songs could have easily been added to the record without diluting the quality, in fact strengthening it.

24 Hour Revenge Therapy isn’t perfect, but it’s close. The lyrics are great for the most part, Schwarzenbach being poetic without being at his most indulgent, and his vocals are on top form, with this rough voice being the best and most convincing of the voices he’s adopted over the years (although his more relaxed style came good on the first Jets To Brazil album, 1998’s Orange Rhyming Dictionary). The rough sound works well, and the guitars stand out whether they’re at full tilt or reined in, without being too loud. Even though the drums are given a flat sound, they still propel the band, and the often understated bass fills the sound out nicely without trying to outdo anything around it. Almost everything works to perfection, and it’s a shame that the album could have been two tracks longer and still just as good. It almost feels insulting to rearrange the album to include the other songs, but it’s something I was compelled to do with the quality of them. There are so many fine tracks on here that it’s hard to pick two or three favourites, and even singling out weaknesses as only relative weaknesses is difficult to do.

Personal picks: Do You Still Hate Me?, First Step, In Sadding Around

Picks for others: Do You Still Hate Me?, Jinx Removing, Boxcar

Relative weaknesses: Indictment, West Bay Invitational

Tracklist

01 – The Boat Dreams From The Hill

02 – Indictment

03 – Boxcar

04 – Outpatient

05 – Ashtray Monument

06 – Condition Oakland

07 – Ache

08 – Do You Still Hate Me?

09 – West Bay Invitational

10 – Jinx Removing

11 – In Sadding Around

Author’s recommended tracklist

01 – The Boat Dreams From The Hill

02 – Friends Back East

03 – Boxcar

04 – Outpatient

05 – Ashtray Monument

06 – Jinx Removing

07 – Condition Oakland

08 – Ache

09 – Do You Still Hate Me?

10 – First Step

11 – West Bay Invitational

12 – Indictment

13 – In Sadding Around

Hot Water Music - The Fire The Steel The Tread

After a triumphant return to the stage, the members of Hot Water Music got together and put out a couple of studio recordings. The first was a cover of “True Believers” by The Bouncing Souls, a song that they’d played live, which was released as a split single with that band covering “Wayfarer”. We were never going to learn too much about what the band would sound like from this 2010 release, and so it was the next year, along with promises of a 2012 full-length release, that we were treated to a new 7”/download. The first new material since the achingly disappointing The New What Next in 2004, it could have gone anywhere. Would it be a salute to the days of old? This was unlikely given the band’s personal preference for their Epitaph-era work. Would it sound like The New What Next or their previous, better Epitaph work (A Flight And A Crash and Caution)? Would it sound a bit like Chuck Ragan’s solo material, which had gone from just the vocalist/guitarist and an acoustic to a full-blown country backing band? Would it draw from the other three members’ time spent playing as The Draft, or other vocalist/guitarist Chris Wollard’s other work as head of The Ship Thieves?

Well, over the course of two songs, the answer is “most of the above”. The A-side of The Fire The Steel The Tread, which goes by that title, is a Ragan-penned piece that sounds like a country tune that’s been beefed up with electric instruments. Ragan’s voice sounds horribly withered, and every line is sung in dual to keep it up in the mix. The vocal melodies are somewhere between country and old fashioned road warrior rock (which shouldn’t be surprising given the title and lyrics). The classy rhythm section is held back, as George Rebelo’s drums are reduced to a sluggish pounding, and Jason Black’s bass is almost impossible to detect in the mix, so I don’t really know what he’s doing.

I have to confess to being disappointed. There are traces of The New What Next, and copious doses of Ragan’s solo work, which have been possibly the least effectual releases that any of the four members of Hot Water Music have been involved with in the ten years before this release. “The Fire The Steel The Tread” embodies elements of just about everything I was fearful of that might have gone wrong. I’d always typically preferred Ragan’s songs to Wollard’s. There’s just something about the classic anthems of hope from what used to be one of rock’s most coarse vocals that just made you believe that every word and every note was meant, and it’s all missing now, the chords, the lyrics, the voice. The only thing worth salvaging from this song was some of the higher-end guitar work, which barely hauls itself out of the mix.

The flipside is the contribution of Wollard, and I did not expect it to turn around my feelings of sheer dread for how bad the next full length would be, given my penchant for liking his songs less historically. Nevertheless, I gave it a spin. Lo and behold, all the best ingredients seem to have gone into “Up To Nothing”. The guitar work comes over as a blend of The Draft and Caution, the finest of Hot Water Music since signing for Epitaph. It’s catchy, infectious, and lively, and a much more animated Rebelo can be envisaged behind the drum kit. The backing vocals work a treat, the choral refrain is memorable, and Wollard’s voice hasn’t suffered anything like as much. Of course, there are flaws, but these are in the mix. Again, Black isn’t heard, and you get the feeling that the vocals could just be mixed a little better, but these are minor blemishes on a faith-restoring song.

I’ve learned better than to be optimistic about anything, and the label that the band signed with to release the new LP looks to be so packed to the rafters with emo bands that it makes Epitaph look like they’re still in their glory days of the 80s and 90s. I’m not sure what the label expects from the band, or is just happy to have the name of a well-known band on its roster. Where do No Idea Records come in this time? In a way I’m glad that the quartet is moving on slightly, and The Fire The Steel The Tread does at least hint that what’s to come will be better than The New What Next. However, the thought of Hot Water music drawing out a legacy of below par records, after such a golden first decade together, is a sad one indeed. There’s nothing here for anyone who’s only a fan of the 90s material. Even the artwork continues in the vein of the uglier Scott Sinclair art present in The New What Next, whilst also bearing a resemblance to the artwork on the singles that The Draft put out. If you like Caution or Chris Wollard, the B-side is of great value to you. Unless the band put out enough loose material to fill up a third compilation album, these tracks probably won’t see release on a proper record.

Personal pick: Up To Nothing

Pick for others: Up To Nothing

Relative weakness: The Fire The Steel The Tread

Tracklist

01 – The Fire The Steel The Tread

02 – Up To Nothing

Pegboy - Three-Chord Monte / Strong Reaction / Field Of Darkness

After defining the sound of Chicago punk kings Naked Raygun with his simple but direct guitar for the best part of the 80s, John Haggerty decided he’d had enough and formed a new band, enlisting the help of Larry Damore and Steve Saylors on vocals/occasional rhythm guitar and bass respectively, from the recently-disbanded Bhopal Stiffs, rounding out the lineup with his brother Joe behind the drum kit. Pegboy went in to record a few demo tracks with Iain Burgess, and decided that it was good enough to release as it was as an EP. Later packaged on one disc with debut full length Strong Reaction, it nevertheless gets a separate examination because of its initial release as a separate record.

Three-Chord Monte is one of the most charming little puns you’ll find in the often all too serious world of punk, and it’s reinforced by the cover photo of a shady character dealing cards on the docks. It’s also backed up by the opening track, as the riff that permeates most of “Through My Fingers” is indeed one with three chords. The song is remarkably unspectacular, and I still can’t fathom how they spun it out to four minutes. Damore’s flat vocals are a welcome change from the screaming, shouting, or whining that you’d usually get on straight simple punk, but on this EP and especially on this track, he sounds like he’s bunged up with a terrible head cold. The repetitiveness can really get to you on a bad day, which is a shame because it’s otherwise not a bad track. The unimaginative guitar solo coda doesn’t drag it out of mediocrity, and while Pegboy would always be better known for chunky riffs than creativity, how this song was picked to have a music video made for it and everything is beyond me. The lyrical despondency that features on most Pegboy songs regardless of musical mood is in full force here, and on every other track on the record. “My Youth” is more energetic and much catchier, but the combination with the lyrics creates a sort of bittersweet punk anthem, almost like The Bouncing Souls but more inland and closer to hardcore than Oi-punk. Most of the progressions in this song actually have four chords, but I think the least prominent riff in the verse has only three chords, so we’ll allow the song to be here, which is just as well because it’s the best song on the record.

The track fades away, as several of the best Pegboy songs seem to annoyingly do (“Strong Reaction” from the album of the same name, the closer to the mighty Fore EP “Jesus Christ”, and Earwig centrepiece “You” all spring to mind), and just to rub it in, the next track is called “Fade Away”. The guitar neck gets strangled in a more sombre piece that’s marked with a really awkward chorus that doesn’t seem to fit the rest of the song. I think it’s supposed to add a bit more kick to the dreariest track, but there’s no noticeable injection of energy. “Method” snarls a little more, and a more aggressive drum track propels the song to something greater. The backing vocals are at their best, and the guitars cruise and crash at the right times, including the best guitar solo that John Haggerty put down between leaving Naked Raygun and Fore in 1993.

A year later, and the band’s first full length was out. The strikingly plain cover of Strong Reaction reflects the music, and “Strong Reaction” grabs your attention without any fireworks. A monster riff drives the song throughout, and an impassioned but gruff vocal from Damore, whose nose was sufficiently clear by now, leaves us with a classic, and I have no complaints about this being a focus track with a music video made for it. “Still Uneasy” is brighter, shorter, and features a more noticeable bass. The backing vocals are much airier than in the opener. There’s still some beef in the post-chorus riff, and “Still Uneasy” is a good second track which manages to avoid sounding weaker than “Strong Reaction” by being just different enough.

“Not What I Want” is about on par with the previous track. It lacks a particularly interesting riff, but it’s bouncier still, and the classic air of defiance it carries will appeal to the younger punks out there. “What To Do” takes the pace down, and feels at times like a slight dip in form. The guitar lacks energy if not bite, although the vocals are still going strong. It feels like a blip, but is fairly consistent with the stock material at the back end of the album.

The instrumental “Locomotivelung” introduces a new flavour into the mix. Joe Haggerty’s drumming steals the show, but the dual attack of brother John and Damore on guitars is much more vicious than anything else the band did on Strong Reaction or Three-Chord Monte, being the clearest hint at what Fore would sound like. The only downside of this track is that it lacks an ending, which, considering they didn’t put the effort into lyrics, is particularly disappointing, because a crescendo was promising to build in the fadeout. “Superstar” is like “Not What I Want” in that it relies on infectious vocal tuning rather than a really good sequence of chords, and comes across as standard fare.

The song that was actually given release as a single from the record was “Field Of Darkness”, and it’s unlike pretty much any other Pegboy song from this era, in that right from the off, John Haggerty is hitting the higher notes of his guitar well away from Damore’s rhythm, and this makes it stand out in a big way, despite being the standard formula for most two-guitar four-piece units. Apart from trying to cram the song title into a space where there wasn’t room for it, the song’s full of melody and niceness and all that, so it’s no real surprise that it found its way onto a seven inch. “Time Again” brings the sound back into more familiar territory, with an urgent but dull riff that would have been chastised more if it had appeared on another part of the album, but it does the job after the last track, and one of the better solos on the record keeps the song treading water in its own right.

“Believe” takes things down to almost the level of “What To Do” in terms of both speed and mood. A lively solo puts it higher up the pecking order, but it isn’t exactly stellar. The final credited track is “Hardlight”, eighty five seconds of disappointing throwaway material. I’m sure it’s some nod to the past bands that the members of Pegboy have been in, but it doesn’t belong here. The hidden track fades in where the fadeout of “Strong Reaction” left off, suggesting that the band had kept going until someone decided that they’d played enough (at approximately four minutes, the opening track is roughly a minute longer than the next longest track even with the fadeout), proving that those pesky punks were never intending to give the song a structured finish.

The Field Of Darkness single had the same version of “Field Of Darkness” as Strong Reaction, but featured a unique B-side. While “Field Of Darkness” remains a favourite of many who first heard Pegboy material when they heard their favourite band covering it (in my case it was Hot Water Music on a live bootleg), those that have grown into the entire catalogue might well find “Walk On By” to be streets ahead. Despite sounding like it was recorded in a tin of baked beans, it’s bristling with energy and is easy to sing along to, with the trademark uncertainly expressed in the lyrics, and I can't help but like it more than the A-side.

Being one of those albums that have a good sound to them without doing anything spectacular, Strong Reaction is as good a record to have in your collection as any Naked Raygun record. While 1994’s Earwig has some better songs and certainly better songcrafting, Strong Reaction just gives a great experience, and coupled with having just about enough good tracks, stands out as the most memorable and essential Pegboy release for most people. Three-Chord Monte is a worthwhile addition, although that’s easy for me to say because I accidentally bought it when I bought Strong Reaction. It’s unfortunate to say that the Field Of Darkness single is only for vinyl nerds and the hardiest of Pegboy collectors, because everyone who’s heard the band and doesn’t hate them would think that at least one of the two tracks on it was the best thing they’d heard that week.

Personal picks – Strong Reaction, Walk On By, My Youth, Locomotivelung, Method

Picks for others – Field Of Darkness, Not What I Want, Method, Still Uneasy, Strong Reaction

Relative weaknesses – Hardlight, Fade Away, What To Do

Tracklist

Three-Chord Monte

01 – Through My Fingers

02 – My Youth

03 – Fade Away

04 – Method

Strong Reaction

01 – Strong Reaction

02 – Still Uneasy

03 – Not What I Want

04 – What To Do

05 – Locomotivelung

06 – Superstar

07 – Field Of Darkness

08 – Time Again

09 – Believe

10 – Hardlight

11 – (Untitled continuation of Strong Reaction)

Field Of Darkness

01 – Field Of Darkness

02 – Walk On By

The Bouncing Souls - Live At The O2 Academy Islington, London, England, UK, 03/08/2011

I’ve been against the idea of playing a full album from front to back at a live show, from about the time when I heard of the concept. Surely the point of going to a gig is to get something you can’t buy on a studio recording. The energy, the suspense, the sweat, the ringing in your ears, and some classic songs mixed in with new ones to guarantee that you finish the night with a sore throat. Nevertheless, this was The Bouncing Souls, and they were doing a slightly different take on it, so I had to try. They were playing all eight albums over four nights in a few select cities, one of which was London. There are advantages to this. The band gets to stay in a hotel and chill out for a few nights rather than hauling their team around every night, which must seem ever more appealing to bands that have been on the road for more than a couple of decades. Fans can select which pair of albums they want to listen to rather than just have the latest release shoved down their throats. It isn’t that Ghosts On The Boardwalk is a bad record, but I don’t think that playing any entire record front to back is a very effective way of selling that record on a tour supporting that record. In my case, I was quite lucky that my two favourite Bouncing Souls albums were being played on the third night, so I talked two friends, each of whom I’d seen the band with once before at different venues in Birmingham, into seeing them perform How I Spent My Summer Vacation and Anchors Aweigh.

Because it was London and there was congestion and petrol to weigh up, we decided to train it down, and cram into a family room in a cheap nearby hotel so that we could stay the night. Having met up at the train station on a hot and humid Wednesday, we walked to the hotel and booked in at around half five, got changed and headed more or less straight to the venue. Surprisingly few people had turned up in time for doors, and we found out why. After chatting with the one couple that had arrived before us, they explained that quite a lot of people had bought the VIP option of going to all four nights. After waiting for an hour and a half inside the venue before anything happened, we found out that there was only one support act and that people who’d been there before knew better and didn’t waste their time. Eventually, local four-piece Pacer got on stage and motored through a series of pop punk. Think guitars reminiscent of the main act, but with less intrusive drumming and half-shouted half-screamed vocals, with a lot of complaining about the media in the lyrics. It was played pretty loud, and I’m beginning to wonder if support acts should be turned down a little so that those nearer the speakers can still hear the main act with good clarity. Their set can’t have been much more than half an hour, and they were soon taking their instruments off the stage.

A cheesy, amusing introduction imitating a boxing match between the two albums brought an introduction to How I Spent My Summer Vacation, replete with the music from Rocky, and a scantily-clad female walking around holding up a vinyl copy of the album as if it had Round 1 printed on it. Perhaps due to the late start, the band walked on, picked up their instruments and immediately rocketed through their first set, only stopping to breathe twice, one of which was to fix a couple of bolts on Bryan Kienlen’s ailing bass guitar. As well as hearing the songs we would have heard anyway (“That Song”, “True Believers”, “Gone”), it was great to be able to hear some songs in a live setting which would otherwise rarely if ever have been played, including the brisk “Better Life”, and my personal favourite, the high energy “No Comply”. On the other hand, the interaction the band afforded the crowd was much lower than usual. Greg Attonito ventured towards the crowd once, thought better of it, and stayed back. He’s always been relatively calm as lead singers go, but his cheerful nature seemed to be absent, and he spent most of his time off the microphone tapping his feet and looking at the floor. I can’t be sure whether he was as tired as he looked, or whether he was still struggling to remember some of the songs, although I suspect the former. Either way, this wasn’t the buoyant individual who would hop around, stick the microphone into the crowd, and even help crowd members with cameras out by taking photos of them, something I’d seen on both previous occasions.

The crowd was in a surprisingly physical mood compared to the last two times I’d seen the band, and both of my companions dropped out before “Private Radio” had even finished, and watched the rest of the show from the bar. To make matters worse, towards the end of this first set, a crowdsurfer went directly over me in an unpleasant manner. I didn’t think it’d be too much of an issue as the staff had spotted him early and as many as five of them formed a neat formation in front of me, and looked ready. However, instead of lifting the crowdsurfer over the top like they were usually able to do single-handedly, they pulled him down onto the back of my head and neck. I sustained a neck injury from having his weight rolling my head forward and then pinning it down and compressing it. Sometimes I wonder if crowdsurfers are the only ones whose health matters. I was hoping to not be compelled to discuss the issue at all, having documented some views on crowdsurfing after the incident-free Buffalo Tom show earlier in the year, but alas, I’m angry.

Most of the band disappeared through the back curtain for a five minute breather, soon followed by guitarist Pete Steinkopf who finished “Gone” alone. A very similar introduction was given for Anchors Aweigh, after which the band came back and continued at their uncharacteristically fast pace. Again, the crowd experienced regulars such as “Kids And Heroes” and “Sing Along Forever” as well as less frequently played gems like “Inside Out” and “Highway Kings”, another personal favourite. The crowd had mostly calmed down after the initial crush of the first three songs, although my knees were getting more and more painful after being flattened against the barrier for long enough, and I had a particularly sore rib, thanks to some troglodyte in the next row back who clung onto the top of the barrier like a Scotsman on a five pound note with his knuckles digging into me. What struck me as odd about this set was that “The Day I Turned My Back On You” was actually skipped. Otherwise, the album was there in completion including the bonus track (not with the two minutes silence). I usually like to have a gig end on a powerful note, but the semi-acoustic “The Fall Song” was a nice way to end the gig on a relaxed note. Maybe it was because I was tiring of dodging people doing music video stunts over me, or maybe it was because the band seemed more comfortable at the slower pace.

There is no substitute for the excitement of wondering what the next song is, and feeling the excitement of a personal favourite, the will to sing or dance to a staple, or the appreciation of hearing something rarely aired being plucked out of the past. There was no encore, so there were no surprises other than the missed song. I suppose you can’t blame the band, given that they had been playing a lot of songs this way for some time by this point, and looked exhausted and a bit fed up, although it would have been nice to have them play a couple of extra tunes, perhaps from the split album they did with Anti-Flag in between the two featured records. A bad night’s sleep thanks to the heat, and a walk back to the station the next morning in pouring rain in which it was still too hot to wear more than a t-shirt, gave me plenty of time to weigh up the pros and cons of this concert. After mulling it over for several days, I’m still not sure whether it was worthwhile. What I have learned is what I suspected all along, that full-album shows are not as good as regular shows. The Bouncing Souls looked completely drained, and even the ever-powerful Michael McDermott seemed to be feeling the effects of a tour that they may well look back grimly on. Judging by the introductions, they hadn’t lost their sense of humour with age, so I can’t see what else could be at fault. What I perhaps haven’t learned is that I just might be getting too old to keep doing this, especially if I can get injured without going near the circle pit and not resist complaining about it.

(Given the nature of the show, there is no need to provide a setlist.)