CITIZINE REVIEWS
New Records &
New Combos
Metal gods come together on David Grohl's all-powerful Probot, Jello Biafra & The Melvins meld, and Frank Black and Two Pale Boys radically rework the Pixies.
Plus! Review of M.D.C.'s latest, Magnus Dominus Corpus.

By Mark Prindle
www.markprindle.com

Probot
(Southern Lord, 2004)

I hereby declare Dave Grohl the coolest multibijillionaire pop star in the world. He not only made it to the top with tuneful, compromising music, but decided to celebrate his success by introducing the Foo Fighter fan base to HIS favorite artists. Bush, you wonder? Everclear? The Smashing Pumpkins? No, no, and no again!

He's somehow managed to finagle/wrangle up the singers of eleven timeless thrash bands to create a monsterwork of METAL!!!! And I'm not talking about mainstream metal gods like James Hetfield or Ozzy Osbourne -- multitrillionaire rock drummer Dave Grohl has turned over his instrumental creations to the vocal and songwriting talents of Cronos, Max Cavalera, Lemmy, Mike Dean, Kurt Brecht, Lee Dorrian, Wino, Tom G. Warrior, Snake, Eric Wagner and King Diamond! That's right -- all your favorites!

They might very well BE your favorites, being as they are members of some really REALLY great metal bands of yesteryear and todear, including Celtic Frost, Napalm Death, D.R.I., C.O.C., Motörhead, Sepultura, Voivod, Trouble, Mercyful Fate, Venom, Hellhammer, Soulfly, Cathedral and The Obsessed. I'm proud as a pie to say that I own music by every single one of these bands (thank you). In fact, to prove that I'm DOUBLY hip, the only reason I own any Trouble is because Kurt Brecht of DRI sent me a mix tape of their stuff! Doesn't that prove I'm triply hip??!?! That's it though. I have no other connection of any sort to anybody who played on this CD. Although a friend of mine is supposedly interviewing Lemmy for Maxim UK this weekend. So there's kind of a 3 Degrees of Separation thing going on there. Also, I used to be the lead singer of Nirvana, so I'm sorta connected to Dave Grohl in that way. But otherwise, this CD might as well be by Bach And The Beethovens for all I've hung out with them!

Let something be understood -- it's not necessarily *SIMPLE* to write an entire album of great heavy metal songs. Even if you're experimenting with several different subgenres as Dave does here, you have to stick to a certain type of angry riffage for it to be suitably "metallic." Having done that, you also have to somehow come up with an ass-kicking chord or note sequence that hasn't already been worn into the ground by the five gazillion metal bands that have come before you -- everybody from Black Sabbath and Slayer to Anvil, Morbid Angel, Autopsy, and heck, people you've never even DREAMT of! Then you have to succeed at both of these goals ten or twelve times in a row so that your album is a non-stop consistent winner of brutal proportions. Does Dave Grohl of Foo Fighters pop grunge fame pull it off? Well, no. He relies on clichéd riffs and empty, simplistic grooves a bit too often for his metallic foray to be considered a classic of the genre. But I'd say he DOES succeed in coming up with terrific bludgeoning hooks at least half of the time, and even his less interesting compositions are saved by the unceasingly great vocals of these eleven godlike singer kings.

Err... except one. Lord knows I love Voivod -- I really do. I own all their albums and everything. But boy does "Snake" sound like his nose is stuck in the refrigerator door on "Dictatosaurus." Come on, "Snake"! You're not an actual snake! Stop wiggling around on the floor when you sing! Everybody else, on the other ten hands, RULES VOICE ASS!!!!

The other superneat thing that Grohl does here is actually try to sort of somewhat imitate the styles of his singers' original bands. Not ALWAYS (for example, Kurt Brecht's "Silent Spring" is sort of a Sabbathy metallic groove instead of the high-speed crossover attack that it should be), but like "Red War" was clearly written for Max Cavalera with Soulfly's rigid industrial metal in mind, Lemmy's "Shake Your Blood" is a bigger Motörhead ripoff/homage than Ween's "Gonna Be A Long Night," Mike Dean's "Access Babylon" is high-speed hardcore à la Six Songs With Mike Singing, and Wino's "The Emerald Law" is straight-up Obsessed-style stoner psych doom fuzz rock. I call superneat and I say, "Charge it!"

Although Tom G. Warrior's "Big Sky" is a gigantic mid-tempo instant rock riff classic, the most memorable track on here is probably "Ice Cold Man" with Lee Dorrian on vocals. It's got this dark, sad dual-harmony guitar hook that should have made us all huge hits. Lee Dorrian is the Ice Cold Man, stop him when he's passing by. Lee's the Ice Cold Man, stop him when he's passing by. All his flavors are guaranteed to satisfy. Gotta poomboppadiddy, Dixie Cups. All flavors and push-ups too. Lee's your Ice Cold Man, stop him when he's passing by. Lee's the Ice Cold Man, stop him when he's passing by. All his flavors are......

GUARAN-TEEE-EE-EE-EEE-EE-EE-EEE-EE-EE-E-EEEEEEEEEEED......
....to satis-uh-fy! (à la David Lee Roth, rock god)

Jello Biafra with the Melvins
Never Breathe What You Can't See
(Alternative Tentacles, 2004)

He's back! He's the man behind the mask -- and he's out of control! Jello Biafra, former lead singer of the the Dead Milkmen and Nomeasho, has returned to the fore with an album of loud, heavy punkaroll songs drawn from the skinflints of Aberdeen, Wash.'s The Melvins, a band of whom Kurt Cobain once said, "My wife paid someone to have me murdered."

But more importantly, what does Jello Biafra, former lead singer of Mojo Nixon, have on his mind this time around? Well, many things, including that guy from Tool guest star guitaring on four of these eight songs! But that's not lyrically orientitated. His lyrics, aghast, revolve mainly around George W. Bush's War On Terrorism and its detrimental effects on our civil liberties here in the U.S.A. (Uninformed, Stupid Assholes).

But who listens to lyrics for the words? No, the reason people enjoy the Melvins is the music! And this music is Jello Biafra-style! In fact, if not for the exciting lead guitar strangeness and soloing of that guy from Tool (Adam Jones) and Melvins drummer Dale Crover (who plays lead on two of the tracks not populated by that guy from Tool), you might very well mistake Quit Breathing My Air for another album by Lard or Jello Baifara with Dead On Arrival. The guitar chords are loud, heavy, and chunky, the tempos alternate between mid-tempo churn and speedy punk rock, and just like with his other projects, Jello allows a couple of the songs to stand out in stark stylistic contrast to everything else he's ever done.

See, he's got a set punk-metal songwriting style, but he's willing to give it the old swisharoo every once in a while -- to great affect! (And passable Effect, as well.) Remember "Bruce's Diary" from the Nomeansno album? That's what I'm talking about. HERE -- on THIS album, the two most excitingly off-the-beaten tracks are (1) the cucamonga beach music of "Islamic Bomb," featuring a fantastic George Of The Jungle-style tribal beat and a familiar guitar tone that will have you frantically scanning the credits while screaming "Wait, I thought he HATED East Bay Ray!?, and (2) "Enchanted Thoughtfist," a light, non-metal, non-punk, heartfelt mid-tempo rock song in which Jello -- for the first time EVER? -- expresses a lack of confidence in his knowledge and public persona. It's still inexcusably arrogant, of course ("It always feels so strange when people tell me that I changed their lives -- now it's YOUR turn!"), but at least he admits his shortcomings and asks his fans to "Don't just question authority. Remember to question me!"

As for the record, it's a stone cold kicker of good times! It's definitely more Jello-sounding than Melvins-sounding though, so don't expect the same sort of difficult listening experience you might get from a normal Melvins release -- except for the final track, "Dawn Of The Locusts," which mixes distorted slide bass racket with a difficult crunching riff and speed-manipulated vocals to create an ugly, UGLY song that basically DARES you to enjoy it. Elsewise, you're gonna find a bunch of straightforward chord-driven ass-kicking and '70s hard rock riffs (à la Buzz Osborne).

As annoying as the final track is, as unnecessarily lengthy as "Islamic Bomb" is (it's a cool tune, but Christ, six and a half minutes!?), and as Jello-clichéd as some of the other riffs are (we all know he's used slight variations on the "Plethysmograph" and "The Lighter Side Of Global Terrorism" chord sequences before), I'd only call one of these eight tracks positively weak. That would be the boring mid-tempo trudger "Yuppie Cadillac," a bunch of lame sub-DK anti-SUV lyrics that sound more like the first 'anti-authority' writings of a 15-year-old punker than the product of a mature gentleman in his mid-40s.

Otherwise, the guitar tones and layering sound magnificent, the lyrics are lots of fun ("The Lighter Side Of Global Terrorism" involves an airport security guard who gets sexual gratification from patting down women and forcing them to remove articles of clothing in the name of security; "Islamic Bomb" explores the fact that our Defense Department constantly sells weapons to Arab nations, and then acts surprised when five years down the line they're suddenly a threat to US) and if you hate Biafra's voice, this release certainly isn't going to change your pants. But believe you me, if you're unfamiliar with the Melvins, check out my review page there at markprindle.com and buy everything they've ever done! Even the really shitty ones that suck on purpose!

Frank Black
Frank Black Francis
(spinART, 2004)

Fank Francis, the former lead singer of the Pixies, has finally proudly embraced his past and the Pixies are touring again. Everybody's really excited about it. It's a good thing my ceilings are 35 feet big because I can't stop jumping up and down, punching my fist and going, "Yeah." Also, I can't walk anymore; I can only skip about like a female child because I'm so happy about it, and excited. One time I thought I wasn't all that excited about it, but then I realized my hand was in a boiling pot of water. Once I removed it and wrapped it up in bandages, I was all excited again. Because it's exciting.

A guy who wrote all of the songs for a band getting back together to play some concerts with the other people in the band -- the ones who didn't write any songs for the band and just played exactly what he told them to -- man, that's some exciting stuff.

To celebrate this non-event, Frank has issued a double-disc of Pixies classix done FARNK style! The impetus was thus: The day before the Picksys went into the studio with Big Black's Steve Albini to record the Come On Pilgrim EP, Frank recorded a demo of fifteen songs performed by he and he alone on his acoustic guitar.

Years later, a record company expressed interest in releasing this age-old document of young talent and girth. Frank agreed, but feared that his fans might flip a bird upon paying $18.00 for 35 minutes of old demos. As such, he got together with his friends Two Pale Boys (who often record albums with David Thomas of Pere Ubu fame, I've been led to believe) and recorded a second disc of RADICALLY reworked Pixies songs.

And I do mean RADICALLY reworked. The closest comparison I can think of would be a Pixies tribute album recorded by The Residents back when they were good. It's THAT strangely great. The first disc is really good too (you know the songs -- they're wonderful little songs!), but disc two is what makes the project a must-own for any fan of Black Francis's legendary Posies.

Regardless, I'll begin by discussing the first disc, if only to get your excitement level way up. Think of this paragraph as the Benson to the next paragraph's Mr. Belvedere; sure, it's GOOD and all, but you can't hardly wait until 8:30 rolls around and the fat gay man takes over the TV, right?

The sound quality of disc one is oodles better than you'd expect, and it's fun to hear Frank sing the lead guitar lines over his rhythm strumming (like "bow-bow-bow!" during the intro to "I'm Amazed") and make verbal notes about how the songs are supposed to sound (he introduces "Oh My Golly" with "It's a Caribbean beat that goes like 'kah-kah-kah-kah-kah" like that," and before "Caribou," I could swear he says "This is the one I wanted to sound like Hüsker Dü." !!!). However, the Mexican punkers don't work so well without drums because you can't tell they're supposed to be fast. Instead they just sound like simplistic three-chord mariachi songs (especially "Isla de Encanta," which comes across as a slow metal song with a shitty riff). Fans of the rare will appreciate another early version of "Subbacultcha," along with the non-album tracks "Rock A My Soul" (a lifeless stinker), "Build High" (fun!) and "Boom Chickaboom" (slow, Spanishy, okay). Frank really puts everything into his performance, and most of the tunes are as catchy as a long day. "Caribou" in particular is just gorgeous, isn't it?

Disc two is brilliant -- all full of bizarre electronic noises, trumpets and wrongness. Offhand, I can't think of any other artist who has ever reworked his material in such an astonishingly creative manner, and I know you're shaking your head and muttering "What about the reggae version of 'Layla'?" but wait til you hear what these guys DO with the songs you've known and loved for so many years!

Disc two standouts include:

- "Cactus" played with the DOMINANT chords instead of the TONIC ones. You play guitar, right? Sure! We ALL do! Go play "Cactus" on the dominant chords that correspond to the tonic chords of the original! Bizarre, isn't it? Not just that, but sad and illegal!

- "Nimrod's Son" as a playfully Nazi-esque oompah march! Who doesn't love a playful Nazi? Remember Mengele? Jeff Hanneman LOVED that guy!

- "Levitate Me" played on queasy off-key bell tones for verse, cute baby-like bell chimes for bridge, and jolly horns and guitar for chorus. It's "Bell-u-riffic"!

- "The Holiday Song" -- the BEST. An ADORABLE Herb Albert-style trumpet/tuba cha-cha version, with crazy psych delay loops keeping things real. You'll feel like Esquivel and Os Mutantes dressed up in a taco costume together while high on cocaine!

- "Subbacultcha" built upon grunting cacaphony, eerie violins, bells, bongos, horns and satisfaction. Imagine Tom Waits doing something different for a change!

- "Planet of Sound" as a 15-minute hypnotizing-as-a-swinging-watch two-chord acoustic strummer that falls apart, back together and apart once more as Frank recites each line twenty times apiece and the Pale Boys run his guitar through different effects.

Curious? Intrigued? Buy it! Who knew Two Pale Boys were so clever and unique? The David Thomas connection naturally led me to assume that they were no fucking good at all, but I'll be good and goddamned! The only ones that kinda don't work (though they're okay) are "Where is My Mind" built upon electronic bloops and ugly noises that are a bit TOOOO random, a slow regal "Velouria" that's lovely but just drags on a bit too long, and a version of "Is She Weird" that replaces the catchy verse hook with an Enoey one-note drone. Still, those are small complaints.

M.D.C.
Magnus Dominus Corpus
( Sudden Death, 2004)

I had a dream last night. There were no more riffs. No reason to fight, 'cuz there were no more riffs. Why record an album when you've got no more riffs? Your whole band looks like a cow bum (Brit. slang for "posterior"; rhymes with "album") when you've got no more riffs.

Yes, it's true. MDC is back, apparently with three original members -- singer Dave Dictor, guitarist Ron Posner and bassist Mikey Offender. As such, here comes a zinger: if only their new CD had three original MELODIES!

All mean-spirited insultery aside, half of these songs are damn fine monuments to speed, fun, catchiness and sarcasm, even displaying the occasional creative riff. Unfortunately, if "half of these songs are damn fine," it stands to reason that the other half are "famn dine." And you know what happens to those who try to "dine" during a "famn" (famine): they come away empty, irritable and dissatisfied, eventually succumbing to starvation, rotgut and slow death. This is precisely what doctors warn will happen to you if you listen to this album.

Whether rolling your eyeballses at the "used 400 billion times before" hardcore riffs of "Poseur Punk," "Life But How To Live It" and "Nazis Shouldn't Drive," squeezing your colon out into the toilet at the gross trudge-metal of "Walking On Thin Ice," throwing a plaster cast of Jesus's knockers at the Robert Cray-style blues rocker "Prick Faced Bastard" or wondering why on Earth Dave would write a parody of The Beverly Hillbillies theme if he's never heard the original (just LISTEN to him emotionlessly recite his observations about George Bush -- "DUI, that is. Criminal record, cover up," he reads from his lyric sheet with not even an ounce of humor), chances are good that you'll be so bored with the musical surroundings that you won't even notice Dave's always solid lyricism, again rooted in left-wing politics, sarcastic wit, and the occasional optimistic hope for a better tomorrow.

And lyrics -- why, lyrics are what MDC is all about! Here, enjoy some samples:

From the awesome, melodic-sense-defying "Destroying The Planet": "Fuck you and God bless America!"

From the Crucifucksingly offensive "Let's Kill All The Cops": "Let's kill all the cops and throw 'em in bags / Set it on fire on a pile of rags!"

From the drumless, sorrowful arpeggiation "Timmy Yo": "NOFX for years made their way / Laughing at what the political punks had to say / Taking the piss out of everyone's anger and passion / While being a shill for the Warped sneaker tour fashion."

From the mother-son conversation "Founding Fathers": "Andrew Jackson, the Indian killer -- A movie of his life could be a nightmare thriller!"

From the otherwise dismally generic "Poseur Punk": "All that talk of inner pain -- Just another reason for you to complain!"

Regardless of the music's questionable quality, the mix is fantastic. The instruments sound crisp, tight and pissed-off -- more like the band's mean stripped-down debut album than anything they've released since, and a perfect fit for the overload of fast hardcore songs they pile on your ears throughout. Plus, Dave's "loud neighbor" voice hasn't changed even a teeny iota, so you'll be rudely reciting his screeds to those you come into contact with probably all day almost.

So the lyrics, mix and SOME of the riffs are pretty great. Still, what does it say about your new album when its most musically compelling track is the re-recording of a song you wrote 18 years ago?

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