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Solunsky Front: Mali Svet 12” (2014, Ne! Records)

When Scarecrow played a gig at the legendary MKNZ club in Serbia, the first person we met was our host and promoter, Simon. We immediately hit it off, as we could tell right away Simon loves punk and is a giant nerd about it just like everyone in Scarecrow is. The show that night was great. Simon took amazing care of us, fed us great food, gave us way too much booze, and showed us a great time, but I want to focus on here is Simon’s distro.

Simon had a few distro boxes on a table at the club, and I flipped through them, as one does. I flip through a lot of distros, and I could tell right away that this was a very good one. Simon had a lot of the same releases we stock at Sorry State, and you could tell this was the kind of distro where everything that was there only got its space because Simon cared about it and wanted other people to hear it. I already owned about 75% of the records in his distro, so I could tell Simon’s tastes were aligned with mine.

About 1/3 of Simon’s distro was dedicated to music from former Yugoslavia, mostly reissues from 80s bands. I knew a few of them like Quod Massacre, Proces, and Tozibabe, but most of the artists I either knew only by name or not at all. Realizing I was in the company of a knowledgeable person with excellent taste in music, I asked Simon what he would recommend from the Yugoslavian section. I grabbed a few records (and maybe I’ll write about the others later), but the one I’m writing about today is this compilation of two recording sessions (and a few live tracks) from 80s Belgrade hardcore band Solunski Front.

Solunski Front never managed a vinyl release during their original 1981-1985 run, only appearing on a handful of cassette compilations. In 1993, a 7” EP came out featuring four tracks the band recorded in 1984, but it was limited to only 200 copies and quickly became impossible to find. The lack of released material has nothing to do with the quality of Solunski Front’s music, and (presumably) everything to do with the social, political, and economic conditions in 80s Yugoslavia. Much like the great, under-documented bands from Poland, Solunski Front continued to hone their craft despite their lack of access to the bigger and more commercial punk networks in the west.

The 1984 session captured on the a-side of this LP is incredible. According to the interview in this record’s insert, Solunski Front never considered themselves a hardcore band. They were inspired by early punk like the Ramones, the Damned, UK Subs, the Clash, and Dead Kennedys. Of those bands’ records, Solunski Front’s 1984 tracks remind me the most of Dead Kennedys’ Plastic Surgery Disasters album. Like that record, Solunski Front takes catchy, classic-sounding punk songs, adds intense musical chops that only come from years of playing, and blasts it out with a hardcore-informed sense of power and concision. Dezerter is another good reference point, particularly in the way the songs are dense with musical detail, meticulously arranged, yet that core of a memorable, anthemic punk track still shines through. The tracks on the b-side of this album, recorded a year earlier, are rougher and more primal, but still showcase Solunski Front’s immense talent.

So, thank you to Simon for sharing his knowledge and passion for punk. Thanks to Ne! Records for getting this brilliant document to a wider audience. And thanks to records for allowing me to have this incredible souvenir from Serbia that will make me think of our amazing night at MKNZ every time I play it.

Chuck Biscuits’ Drumming on the First 3 Danzig Albums

Scarecrow didn’t visit too many record stores in Europe (I guess our schedule was too tight and there were other sites we wanted to see more), but between Scarecrow’s trips to Philly and New York earlier this summer and the handful of record stores we visited in Europe, I have a massive stack of recent purchases that I haven’t listened to yet. There’s also so much work to catch up on with Sorry State that I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by music and records. My first instinct would be to sit down with a big pot of coffee and try to listen to everything, but I’m trying to give my brain some space to breathe.

One record I was excited to pick up at the great Static Shock Records in Berlin was an original European pressing of Danzig II: Lucifuge. Lucifuge is the record I’ve spent the least time with out of Danzig’s first three. The third one, How the Gods Kill, I got when it came out after seeing the video for “Dirty Black Summer” on Headbanger’s Ball, and the first one is just an all-time classic. It’s the kind of record that, if you’ve hung around punks and metalheads for a significant portion of your life, you can sing along to every word of even if you’ve never owned a copy.

When I threw Lucifuge on the turntable, I was struck by a feeling of deja vu, as I had the same sensation as the last time I’d listened to How the Gods Kill. I put the record on excited to hear catchy tunes, but as soon as I started listening, I found myself enraptured by Chuck Biscuits’ drumming. I’m not a drummer so I only have so much I can articulate here, but Biscuits’ drumming sounds like no one else’s. I’ve always loved drummers who play way in the pocket (especially when they play fast and in the pocket), and Biscuits is deeeep in there. Further, by stretching the beats so far, he’s able to generate what seems like a massive amount of space for his vast library of fills. A track like “Killer Wolf” could be a tepid blues rock jam, but Biscuits keeps me hanging on every bar, wondering what he’s going to pull out of his bag of tricks next.

I think Rick Rubin must have felt the same about Biscuits’ drumming, because the drums are right at the front of the mix, particularly on Lucifuge and How the Gods Kill. When I blast those records, I feel like my head is right in the middle of Biscuits’ kit, and the sound is sublime. I have a soft spot for big budget rock recordings from the late 80s and the 90s. This was the era of recording budgets that ran into the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of dollars, and when you spare no expense at getting big rock sounds, you can end up with some pretty incredible results. The drum sounds on Lucifuge and How the Gods Kill are a case in point… I can’t imagine how Biscuits’ drums could sound any better.

When I pull back and take my focus off the drumming, Lucifuge is my least favorite of the first three Danzig albums. While “Long Way Back From Hell” and “Her Black Wings” are undisputed bangers, certainly part of the canon of great Danzig tracks, the rest of the record leans too far toward blues for my taste. I don’t know where I picked it up, but I’ve always had trouble getting into rock whose blues influences come too close to the surface. Plus, I think How the Gods Kill is just a better record. On that album, Danzig leans even further into the diversity you hear on Lucifuge, but rather than focusing so much on bluesy and rootsy influences, you hear Danzig’s love for pop crooning come out on tracks like “Sistanas,” which is just a fucking gorgeous song.

Until I was reading up on Biscuits for this piece, I didn’t realize that he also played drums on Danzig 4. I don’t think I’ve heard that record, because by the time they released it in 1994 I had immersed myself in underground punk and had no interest in Danzig. I’ll have to check it out.

Scarecrow spent last weekend at the inaugural Something to Talk About Fest in Philly and I had a great time! Everyone loves to complain about fests, but I like them. You get to see a lot of great bands you wouldn’t see otherwise (especially if you live in North Carolina), you get to see loads of friends you don’t see enough, and often you’re in the same space with said friends for much longer than you would be if they were just passing through on tour. Sure, fests can be overwhelming and exhausting, but for me the good far, far outweighs the bad. Even as fests go, STTA was something special. Jim and Amy, who organized the fest (with a lot of help from the other Philly punks), have a habit of surrounding themselves with great people, which made for a great vibe. And the lineup was phenomenal. I watched every single band that played at STTA (including the aftershows!), and I didn’t see a bad band the entire time! There wasn’t a band I wasn’t interested in, which made making time for things like eating, using the bathroom, and getting adequate amounts of rest very difficult. But hey, I made it! Like I said, I didn’t see a bad set all weekend, but for me the standouts included Rat Nip, Scalple, Mujeres Podridas, Fuckin’ Lovers, Savageheads, Quarantine, Horrendous 3D, Delco MF’s, and Ammo.

While we were in Philly, the hardcore record collecting contingent of the Scarecrew hit up Sit & Spin Records. I’ve only been to Sit & Spin a few times, but I feel confident saying it’s one of the best punk-oriented record shops in the United States. They have everything you could want in a record store… a top-notch selection of new stock, cool new and used band merch, and a wild selection of used items that ranges from bargain bin rippers to mega-rarities. I could kill a day and several thousand dollars there, but most of my attention (and my dollars) went to the rarities section, where one item got me very stoked.

This score brings together a couple of threads I’ve referenced in previous staff picks. I’ve mentioned numerous times that I am always down for a beater copy of a rare record… particularly if the vinyl is in decent shape but the sleeve has radio station call letters or other kinds of damage. I just don’t get those collectors who want pristine copies of everything… I like my records to feel like they have a little history, not like they’ve been sealed in a time capsule for decades. When I saw this copy of Iron Cross’s Skinhead Glory 7” on the wall at Sit & Spin, I could see right away that someone had used scissors to cut the band’s name out of the top of the record’s sleeve. Why would they do that? Maybe they booked the band and needed the logo for a flyer… maybe they needed it for a zine layout, or maybe they thought the name sucked and didn’t want to be reminded of it? Who knows, but when it allows me to get a rare record like this at way, way below the going rate, it’s easy for me to look past it. Plus, Skinhead Glory isn’t a record that I’d want to pay the going rate for. It’s not that I hate it or anything, but when you compare it to the other Dischord whole and half releases from the same period, it’s the runt of the litter.

Since I just filled this major gap in my Dischord collection, I think it’s time for a new family photo that brings me up to Dischord 8 1/2.

Now that I have Skinhead Glory, it seems very important that I acquire copies of Still Screaming and Boycott Stabb, which to be fair I should have done long before now… I’ve had plenty of opportunities. That’ll bring my Dischord collection up to about #15, though carrying it much beyond that will involve buying more and more records that I don’t care too much about.

Visage: Fade to Grey: The Singles Collection 12” (original Polydor 1983, reissue Rubellan Remasters, 2022)

If you flip through my record collection, you’ll see long runs of multiple records by the same artist. The biggest run is the Fall, whose 12”s take up at least half an expedit cube, but you’ll also see other favorites like Wire, the Kinks, Miles Davis, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and many others that have several inches of shelf space devoted to them. When I hear a record or even a song I like, my first impulse is to get everything the artist released, to pull that thread and see if there’s even more. Sometimes there’s something even better than what first drew me in. Often there are duds, but usually I can appreciate those within the context of an artist’s larger body of work.

The first time I heard Visage’s song “Fade to Grey,” I was smitten. I love a track with a big hook and a strong beat, and “Fade to Grey” fits the bill. Originally released in 1980, “Fade to Grey” is darkwave before there was darkwave, its tough drum machine rhythms presaging 90s industrial music while the lyrics and vocals add a dash of glamor. Their sound is gritty and colorful at the same, like someone dressed to the nines making their way through a seedy section of town on their way to the club. Which is appropriate, since Visage was born under precisely those circumstances.

Visage’s original goal was to create music for DJ Rusty Egan to play at his London club nights, where dancers favored the cold and futuristic sounds of 70s Bowie and Kraftwerk. Egan teamed up with Midge Ure, his bandmate in the Rich Kids (Glen Matlock’s post-Sex Pistols band) and cut a demo as a proof of concept. From there, they put together Visage, enlisting Ultravox keyboardist Billy Currie and scenester Steve Strange (who had also performed in a few under the radar punk bands) as frontperson and face of the band. The lineup expanded again to incorporate three-fifths of Magazine: guitarist John McGeotch, keyboardist Dave Formula, and bassist Barry Adamson. Magazine is one of my favorite bands (another who has a few inches of space on my LP and singles shelves), and if you’re a fan of that band’s top-notch musicianship, Visage’s first album is an essential listen.

Fade to Grey collects six Visage singles released between 1980 and 1984. “Fade to Grey,” of course, is the biggest hit and their best song, but I like every track on the collection. Visage’s first album is essential (and you can find it pretty easily and usually for not much money), but Fade to Grey is most useful for collecting the best tracks from Visage’s later years. Visage’s second album, The Anvil, isn’t as strong as Fade to Grey, but singles “The Anvil,” “Night Train,” and “Damned Don’t Cry” are all bangers. Visage’s much-maligned third album (made after all the folks from Magazine left), Beat Boy, is represented by “Beat Boy” and “Love Glove,” and while I rarely pull Beat Boy off the shelf, those tracks stand up next to the earlier material despite their glossier sound.

I’d been looking for a copy of Fade to Grey for years, but they don’t turn up often in the US. When I saw this reissue pop up on one of our distributor lists, I jumped on getting copies for the store because I knew I’d make at least one sale to myself. The record looks and sounds great and even contains the Beat Boy-era tracks I mentioned above, which aren’t on the original 1983 edition. And the “blue smoke” vinyl looks pretty cool too. Maybe you’re a darkwave DJ who can blow minds by dropping one of these tracks into the retro portion of your set, but if you’re like me, Visage’s insistent dance rhythms are the perfect soundtrack for sweeping, washing dishes, and getting things done.

Pick up Fade to Grey at Sorry State here!

The Devil’s Anvil: Hard Rock from the Middle East LP (Columbia, 1967)

I’d been on the lookout for a copy of the lone album from New York’s The Devil’s Anvil for some time now, and this week one popped up in a collection I bought out in the Raleigh suburbs. I’m not sure where I heard about this record—it’s on streaming services, so an algorithm may have served it to me—but the title, Hard Rock from the Middle East, intrigued me. It turns out the Devil’s Anvil isn’t hard rock and isn’t from the Middle East, but it’s still an interesting LP.

Based on the artwork, you might think this was some kind of exploitation record, but my research tells me the Devil’s Anvil’s cultural bona fides are at least somewhat legit. The band was based in New York and the members were either from the Middle East or of Arabic heritage. The lyrics for all but one track are in Arabic and besides farfisa organ, electric guitar and bass, and drums, the Devil’s Anvil also employed traditional instruments like the oud and the tamboura. The compositions smash together then-contemporary rock sounds with traditional melodies and modes from across the Middle East. I wouldn’t call it hard rock a la Blue Cheer, more like 60s garage akin to the Standells or the Electric Prunes, though some songs lean more toward traditional music than rock.

Reading what people have written about Hard Rock from the Middle East is interesting because opinions are all over the place. Some people view it as an exploitation record, a brazen act of cultural appropriation. Most of these people condemn it, but I found one person who described it as “hilarious,” a cringeworthy statement. Even beyond assessing its political correctness, opinion is divided on the quality of the music, with some people viewing it as an unfairly forgotten psych gem, while others find it ham-fisted and cheesy. I quite like it. While it’s not as self-serious as something like Agitation Free, a 70s German progressive rock band who also mined Middle Eastern sounds for inspiration, I think the songs are legit and I love that it doesn’t sound like anything I’ve heard before.

Nearly everything I’ve read about the album online mentions that it didn’t sell, having been released just as the 1967 Arab-Israeli war was fomenting anti-Arabic sentiment in the United States. As we all know, anti-Arab sentiment in the US only got worse in subsequent decades. From what I can tell, the Devil’s Anvil disbanded after the album’s commercial failure, with producer Felix Pappalardi and guitarist / bassist Steve Knight working together again in Leslie West’s Mountain. I would love to visit an alternate reality where the Devil’s Anvil made more records, especially if they pulled in influences from bands like Black Sabbath and Blue Cheer who made hard rock much harder.

I don’t have a staff pick this week, so instead I’m going to whine. Y’all are down for that, right? You may have noticed that, in the intros for the past two editions of the newsletter, I’ve written about heading off to Thursday evening gigs after I finish putting everything together. That’s been a weight on me lately. In fact, last Thursday I didn’t finish the newsletter before leaving for the Fried E/M gig in Chapel Hill. I worked on the newsletter until after 9PM, then left for Chapel Hill (about an hour from my house), arriving in time for DE()T’s last song and missing Bug-E.M.S. I was in an atrocious mood, berating myself for not being more on top of my work, and I tried to avoid talking to anyone at the gig so I could sulk. Apologies to the few brave souls who approached me that night and had to soak up my bad vibes. After the gig I got home and worked until about 3AM finishing things up. Rather than sending it out at that hour, I scheduled it for early Friday morning.

The next day Scarecrow was playing with Fried E/M in Virginia Beach, so I knew I’d see those folks again. I know playing out-of-town gigs can stress some people out, but right now Sorry State is so stressful that I love going out of town for gigs… I feel like I’m away from all of my stressors. The crew from Not for the Weak Records was putting on the gig and they did a great job. All the bands killed, and I felt good about Scarecrow’s set even though I seem to be having problems with my distortion pedal. Friend E/M was incredible, and I even moshed a little, the first time I’ve done that in several years. Every time I think I’m a retired mosher, a song as good as “Inner Peace” comes around that pulls me back in.

Martin and Gabe from Fried E/M are old friends, and I’m stoked they were down to hang out after the gig. The Scarecrow, NFTW, and Fried E/M crews went down to the Virginia Beach oceanfront and hung out on the water until 4:30 in the morning, chatting about life and punk and the things you talk about at a post-gig hang. I loved how Usman and Martin had some kind of magical rapport… you’d think they’d be oil and water, but they’re more like an odd couple comedy duo. I’d listen to that podcast.

Back in Sorry State land, things have been so busy that I feel like I’ve had no time for myself. When I’m feeling depressed, I find it hard to get up in the morning and I linger over my morning cup of coffee for way too long. This week I resolved to get out of bed and get to work more quickly, but I haven’t been leaving work any earlier or taking it any easier. So, what ends up happening is that I work 12+ hour days, arriving home dead-eyed. I’m not sure whether it’s depression, stress, or some combination of the two, but I’ve had trouble finding enjoyment in the things that usually move me this week, most importantly music.

The one thing that sparked my musical curiosity this week was vaporwave. I was sitting on the couch, looking at my phone, trying to find something interesting to think about when I stumbled on a video that explained all the different subgenres of vaporwave with samples of artists from each one. I’ve known the term vaporwave for many years, but I can’t recall listening to any of the music. Rachel once described it to me as the background music playing at K-Mart, and some of it sounds like that, but not all of it. The more interesting things I heard reminded me of something you’d hear at a spa or in the background of a corporate training video, but what seems to separate vaporwave from your typical background music is that it sounds a little bit fucked up. Most of the releases have cassette hiss, like they’re ripped from an old VHS tape, and some have little glitches added in like the recording has been damaged. This style of music is meant to evoke peace and calm, but with vaporwave there seems to be something sinister lurking in the background. It’s like the cheery background music for a training video made by an evil corporation.

I keep listening to releases mentioned in that video. It’s all I want to hear right now. Why? I find it nourishing in my current state of mind, but I can’t put my finger on why. It’s like when you’re sick and all you want to eat is plain bread or oatmeal… something bland and grey or off-white. I’m probably being dramatic, but hopefully this week I can get a little more rest and get back to recommending you some killer punk next week. But, then again, Scarecrow is playing with Absolut in Richmond next Thursday, so that might not be a realistic expectation.

Shotgun Solution: Shotgun 7” (1983, High Rise Records)

I have little in the way of biographical information on Shotgun Solution. I know they were from Rome, Italy, and released this 7” in 1983. Other than that, I only have a few scattered shards of information I’ll share further down.

I believe I first heard Shotgun Solution in the early 2000s. I can’t pinpoint the first moment I heard them, but I had three primary sources for finding out about long lost 80s hardcore bands around this time. The first was exploring other people’s Soulseek libraries, and there were some doozies out there jam-packed with every punk rarity you could imagine. Another was making my way through the Kill from the Heart website and trying to hear every band it listed. The third was record collecting friends, chief among them Brandon from Direct Control and Government Warning. He and the people he introduced me to had a huge hand in shaping my taste in punk to this day.

Back then, I remember wanting a copy of this EP, but being convinced I could find a copy for under $50. Two decades later, I consider myself very lucky to have paid more than double for this copy. I bought this copy from Discogs on Record Store Day. I’m always a bundle of nerves leading up to Record Store Day, because we invest so much money in it. If it went poorly, we would be pretty fucked. However, it’s gone well every time (so far), and this year I think it went well. Weeks, if not months, of work go into making Record Store Day happen at Sorry State, and I remember basking in the glow of what felt like a job well done when I opened Discogs and saw this sitting there. Riding on good vibes, I smashed the buy button and my high was only slightly impacted when I opened the package to find the record had been over-graded. Oh well, the record sounds great, and that’s what counts.

The day this came in the mail, I brought it to a party at Usman’s house and my friend Rich told me he’d never connected with this record. I found that surprising, because I just love it. I’m a huge fan of early 80s Italian hardcore, particularly the loose and wild-sounding bands. Shotgun has plenty of that. While the playing isn’t straight up sloppy like Wretched, there’s a looseness that makes the record feel dangerous. The guitarist is also insane, with a noodly style that reminds me of Negazione in the way there are a million notes but you’re not sure they all make sense. And the lengthy, wah-wah drenched solo at the end of “I.C.Y.K.I.M.F.” is a fucking masterpiece. Trigger warning, though: that song has graphic and misogynistic lyrics that will be enough for some people to write them off completely.

Shotgun Solution’s wildness connects them to bands like Negazione, Wretched, and Cheetah Chrome Motherfuckers, but the anthemic, oi!-ish elements of their sound remind me of Raw Power’s big choruses and the oi! influences you hear in groups like Basta, Klasse Kriminale, and Nabat. There’s just a slight oi! feel, mostly in the guitars, as Shotgun Solution’s catchy and hyperactive anthems are more like classic California punk than anything else. In other words, you can sing along with it. (Though, as I mentioned, you might not want to sing along to “I.C.Y.K.I.M.F.”)

While Shotgun isn’t an easy record to get (I went twenty years without an attractively priced copy presenting itself to me), it seems like there are a lot of copies in the US. I remember an old Raleigh punk telling me about how Raw Power’s van broke down outside their house and the band stayed there for an entire week while they figured out new transportation. I think someone from Shotgun Solution might have been on tour with Raw Power, and they left a big stack of them at the house as thanks for the hospitality. I’m sure that person sold and gave away a bunch of other copies while they were in the States. Side note, this is not my story so I’ve probably mis-remembered the details, but I think it ends with Raw Power’s van rotting in front of said punk house for years until one night the punks lit it on fire and tipped it over. It was gone the next morning, apparently taken away by the city, and no one heard anything else about it.

Another short anecdote about this record. In 2011 (or maybe 2012?) I drove Smart Cops on their US tour. Of course, there was lots of talk of classic Italian hardcore, and the Smart Cops were rabid fans and very knowledgeable. Smart Cops guitarist Edo even played drums in the reformed lineup of Klasse Kriminale. However, at some point, I realized they hadn’t heard of Shotgun Solution. Getting to introduce a bunch of Italians to a killer record they didn’t know about is a highlight in my history as a record nerd.

Today we launched preorders for three new releases on Sorry State, and coincidentally test pressings for three upcoming releases just arrived yesterday. I’ll have plenty to tell you about those records in the coming months, but listening to the test presses last night had me reflecting on the process of releasing a record. Earlier this week I put a lot of energy into writing descriptions for the new releases, which is a weird exercise. I love writing for the newsletter, but I always struggle to write the generic blurbs that get passed along to distributors and reposted on the websites of stores and distros that carry the record. I feel like I know my audience for the newsletter. I imagine the people who read the newsletter are the die-hards like me who are eager to know about all the coolest new releases, and my job of telling you about what we carry is pretty straightforward. However, when I’m writing for the wider, more nebulous audience for the descriptions, it’s very different. The cliche is that writing about music is like dancing about architecture, and I feel that when I try to both introduce and sum up a record I care about in one pithy paragraph.

For many of the releases on the Sorry State label, the official description blurb is one of the few things I write about the record. Which is ironic because these are the releases I feel the most connected to. While I lean on the bands for most of the creative work on the records I release, I develop a close relationship with releases as I shepherd them through the production and manufacturing process. This relationship feels even more intimate when I put out multiple releases by an artist. So, for my staff pick this week, I thought I’d give you an insider’s view of the three new releases.

The Sorry State label has never benefited from consistent branding. I’ve always released whatever excited me at the moment, and you can see trends in the label’s discography as I get into particular sounds or scenes. There are also certain styles I just like; Sorry State will always put out records that sound like early 80s hardcore. While the three new releases differ greatly from one another, each of them continues a thread that runs through the label’s discography.

Invalid’s self-titled LP is SSR-108, and given that it has the earliest catalog number, I’m pretty sure it was the first of the three projects to come together. (I typically only assign a catalog number once I have a master recording for a release; if you want to read more insane ramblings about catalog numbers, check out this old staff pick.) As I wrote in the main release blurb, Invalid appeared on my radar when they released their Do Not Resuscitate cassette on Cruel Noise Records. I didn’t know it at the time (though I might have assumed), but Invalid features members of heaps of other bands I like. If you cruise their Discogs profile, you can see connections to Blood Pressure, Caustic Christ, and EEL, for instance, but there are many more I’m sure.

It’s more than the pedigree that attracted me to Invalid, though. Stylistically, Invalid has this sound that I don’t hear often, but I love when I do. The three records I mentioned in the official description—Direct Control’s first 7”, COC’s Eye for an Eye, and Unseen Force’s In Search of the Truth—all fall under that umbrella. It’s 80s hardcore at its core, but with a bit of thrash metal in the riffing style and an emphasis on writing memorable parts that aren’t quite pop but are hooky as hell. So you get the intensity of 80s hardcore, the musicality of thrash metal, and the catchiness of more anthemic strains of punk brought together in one package. It’s a subtle balance to achieve, but Invalid nails it.

Beyond the style, I also love that Invalid performs their music with such intensity. Conventional wisdom states that hardcore is a young person’s game, but I tend to be fond of bands whose members are older. These bands know—if only intuitively—why they’ve stuck with hardcore. I love the sound of young kids discovering hardcore as an outlet for their youthful energy, but there’s something about old heads who use hardcore as a way of articulating and responding to life’s never-ending drudgery. It makes the music mean more to me, like hardcore is growing along with me as I get older and my values and passions evolve.

Next up is SSR-110, Woodstock 99’s Super Gremlin LP. While Woodstock 99 released a demo and a 7” before Super Gremlin, I’ve known the members for much longer than the band has existed. Their singer and drummer are both from North Carolina and I’ve known them and followed their projects since they were quite young. In that way, Woodstock 99 connects to another thread in Sorry State’s discography, and that’s documenting the hardcore punk from our part of the world. This part of the label’s mission, which is inspired by Dischord Records, waxes and wanes as our local scene does, but I’m always proud to put out music from North Carolina that I think deserves a wider audience. Not that Woodstock 99 is from North Carolina, but my connection to the band is personal, unlike with Invalid and Hüstler where I have had little real-life hang time with the band members.

Anyway, Woodstock 99’s three core members were in Cement Shoes, and I followed and enjoyed that band and the first two Woodstock 99 releases. I liked all of them, but I hadn’t considered putting out a Woodstock 99 record. Then my friend Trevor, who sings for the band, sent me the recordings that became Super Gremlin. I’m not sure if he was fishing for a label or just sharing what he made because we’re friends, but the record blew me away. It starts off in the (relatively) straightforward hardcore mold of their previous 7”, but bigger, bolder, and meaner, the crisp and bright recording and the band’s massive sound reminding me of War All the Time / Kings of Punk-era Poison Idea. But then the record goes somewhere else.

If you lived in the mid-Atlantic and saw Cement Shoes numerous times over the course of their existence, you probably noticed a change in the band. They’d always had an off the wall sensibility (just look at the cover art for their first album), but toward the end of the band, that evolved into full-on antagonistic crowd baiting. I remember a show where they opened for Warthog and L.O.T.I.O.N. in Richmond. Trevor harassed and abused the audience for the length of their set, to where I was kind of upset and worried about him. Now that I think of it, that was the record release show for their album, Too, and I remember one member telling me they sold zero copies of their record at the gig. It’s like they were daring the crowd to like them, and no one took them up on it.

I think the darkness of that era of Cement Shoes resulted from some particular circumstances, because once the members moved to Cleveland and reconfigured as Woodstock 99, the seedy darkness had reemerged as a more playful, yet still dangerous, psychedelia. One thing I like about psychedelics is their ability to unlock my sense of wonder, and even though I was sober and taking a walk on the nature trail by my house when I first listened to Super Gremlin, it summoned that sense of wonder. As I listened to each track, I couldn’t wait to hear what the band was going to do next. Super Gremlin isn’t like a genre record where you know what you’re going to get and the band impresses you with their adeptness at elaborating and interpreting a style. It’s a record that sees punk rock as a wide-open arena of possibility, and charges in whatever direction the wind blows. It’s a record that feels so fresh that I wanted to be part of it, even if I know some people will not get it at all.

Finally, SSR-113 is Hüstler’s self-titled LP, which compiles their two previous cassette releases on Sorry State. Hüstler is one of the few bands who I agreed to put out based on an unsolicited submission. People send me music all the time. Every day I get one or two emails, sometimes more, from people asking Sorry State to release their music. A large percentage of these I never listen to because I can tell that the person doesn’t know or care about what Sorry State does. Plenty of others I listen to and like just fine, but don’t feel the spark I need to in order to want to release a record. Putting out a record is a big decision that involves investing thousands of dollars and many hours of my and my employees’ time, and it’s not worth doing if I’m not passionate about the music. With these kinds of submissions, I suggest other places where they might send their music and offer to carry the record in our distro once it’s out.

Submissions rarely move me enough to want to release a record when I have no personal connection to the band, but when Tyler from Hüstler sent me what became their first tape, I was hooked. I couldn’t (and, truthfully, still can’t) articulate what I heard that drew me in so much, but Hüstler just had something. Their music had the intensity of the hardcore and punk I’ve always loved, but it sounded fresh. It didn’t sound like anything I’d ever heard, but I knew that I liked it. That Tyler just wanted to put out a cassette and wasn’t pushing for a vinyl release (which is much more expensive and riskier) made it an easy decision to press up 100 cassettes and see if the rest of the world responded like I did.

And they did! Hüstler’s first tape sold out quickly, and once the physical copies were gone, the digital version kept getting downloads on Bandcamp and plays on Spotify. A few months later, Hüstler did a second recording that was even better than the first one. Without losing the intensity, they leaned into the more idiosyncratic elements of their sound and arrived at something even more original and memorable. The second tape sold out even quicker than the first, and also continued to get plays on Spotify and Bandcamp. I haven’t checked, but I’m guessing Hüstler has done more business in digital sales than any previous Sorry State artist. I think we hatched a plan for an LP compiling both tapes around the time the second EP came out. Given the strong reaction the first tape got and the fact that the second tape was (in my opinion) even better made me confident that plenty of other people like Hüstler just as much as I do.

Re-reading this lengthy staff pick, I realize I pretty much said what I said in the official release blurbs I mentioned at the beginning, only with a lot more words. Maybe this version clicked with you when the snappier versions didn’t, or maybe you should ignore my ramblings and just listen to the music and form your own impressions, because you can do that in the year 2022.

Peter Hammill: Nadir’s Big Chance 12” (1975, Charisma Records)

My favorite source of musical discoveries lately is the BBC 6 Music program The Freak Zone with Stuart Maconie, which plays left-field music of many stripes, including psych, prog, kosmiche, jazz, modern classical, electronic, and many more that are unclassifiable. I mentioned the show a few weeks ago because it turned me onto the Okay Temiz and Johnny Dyani LP that was my staff pick then, and another recent episode had me heading to Discogs to find a copy of this 1975 LP by Peter Hammill. I can’t remember what track Maconie played on his show, but it was enough to get me interested, and when I did a little digging and found that Nadir’s Big Chance was pretty much entirely in that 70s glam / art rock vein I love so much, I knew I had to find a vinyl copy for the full experience.

I didn’t know it until I started doing research in preparation to write this piece, but I already had several Peter Hammill records in my collection. However, they were not under Hammill’s own name but Van Der Graaf Generator, the group he co-founded. I’m not super knowledgeable about Van Der Graaf Generator, but I pick up their records whenever I come across them, and I always enjoy them. Hammill was prolific in the 70s, releasing a spate of LPs under his own name and Van Der Graaf Generator, sometimes multiple albums in a year. The solo and Van Der Graaf projects seem fluid as well, with the same musicians and songwriters contributing to both projects. In fact, Nadir’s Big Chance features all the musicians in Van Der Graaf’s 1975 lineup, and songwriting contributions from Judge Smith, who played drums in the original lineup of Van Der Graaf Generator.

While I’m not well-versed enough in this universe of musicians to explain precisely how it fits into the bigger picture of their discographies, I can tell you that Nadir’s Big Chance differs from Hammill’s other records in that, on these tracks, Hammill inhabits the character of Rikki Nadir. On the back of the jacket, Hammill calls Nadir a “loud, aggressive, perpetual sixteen-year-old,” and Nadir’s voice gives these “three chord wonders” an extra jolt of energy. While, in 1975, the glam rock movement was losing steam in Britain, Nadir’s Big Chance huffs from the same bag as records like Electric Warrior and Ziggy Stardust, all pomp and drama and exuberance. Nadir’s Big Chance doesn’t sound like kids’ music, though; what it resembles more than those mainstream glam touchstones are the artists from the artier end of the glam spectrum, particularly early Roxy Music and Brian Eno’s first couple of solo albums. Like those records, Nadir’s Big Chance struts and preens, but it also reaches and challenges, and the record is produced with a raw, homespun feel I love.

Famously, when John Lydon played some records on Capitol Radio in 1977, he dropped in two tracks from Nadir’s Big Chance, “Institute of Mental Health, Burning” (what a title!) and “Nobody’s Business,” noting that Bowie might have stolen a few moves from Hammill (though by 1975, one must note, Bowie had killed off Ziggy and was moving into his Thin White Duke phase). If I’ve piqued your interest, Lydon’s selections are a great starting point, but I’ll also mention “Birthday Special,” another of the highest energy tracks on the album.

The Apostles: Blow It Up Burn It Down Kick It Till It Breaks 7” (self-released, 1983)

Like my staff pick from last week, this 7” by the Apostles is another one I removed from my want list recently. Patience has always been the name of my game with record collecting. When someone recommends something to me or I hear about it, rather than rushing out to grab the first copy I can come across, I add it to the want list and wait for favorable terms to present themselves, whether that’s a copy from a US seller, an off condition copy for a bargain price, or the all-too-rare screaming deal. Occasionally, I break these rules and splurge (my impulse toward thrift is apt to dissolve when the item I want is in front of me, like at a shop or record fair), but my patience typically gets rewarded.

I added this 7” to my want list a few months ago when I was hanging out in the well-appointed artist lounge at Sorry eStates. (JK, I was just exchanging emails with a punk whose record we’re putting out from the drab, untidy confines of my windowless office.) Said punk mentioned this 1983 by the Apostles was one of their favorites so I checked it out on YouTube, liked what I heard, added it to the old want list. Eventually, the right deal came along and after a fraught journey from the UK to North Carolina, I finally had the EP in my hands.

I wasn’t a total stranger to the Apostles when I checked out Blow It Up Burn It Down Kick It Till It Breaks. If memory serves, sometime early in the history of Sorry State’s brick and mortar shop, someone (I can’t remember who… maybe La Vida Es Un Mus?) turned up dead stock copies of their 1986 LP for Mortarhate, Punk Obituary, and we carried them in the shop. I’m certain I listened to it, but I can’t remember how I felt about it and it didn’t move me enough to keep a copy for myself. I also knew the Apostles had a massive discography comprising numerous cassette albums, LPs, and singles. When a band has a huge discography, I’m apt to start at the beginning, but the many cassette albums and live tapes that preceded their first vinyl release made it difficult to figure out what one should consider the beginning.

As far as I can tell, Blow It Up Burn It Down Kick It Till It Breaks is the Apostles’ first vinyl release (though Discogs lists both it and Rising from the Ashes as having come out in 1983). The sound is eclectic even by anarcho-punk standards, landing somewhere between the more melodic sound of bands like Zounds and Crisis and the tougher, more hardcore anarcho sound of Conflict and Crass. For me, the standout track on this five-song EP is “Alien Asian,” which leans on an excellent melodic lead guitar line. The playing throughout is loose but powerful, with idiosyncratic touches like falsetto vocals and a lengthy drum solo at the end of “Pigs for the Slaughter.” I love how the Apostles can sound like a messy racket most of the time, but interesting and memorable bits frequently emerge from the din.

I also must note the EP’s awesome packaging. The foldout poster sleeve is pretty much de rigueur for anarcho punk, but the Apostles make good use of the format. The giant foldout is dense with text and imagery, much of it reproduced on such a tiny scale that it’s barely legible. You get the usual assortment of underground comics, lyrics, and political screeds along with some spicier content, like public callouts of other scene members and instructions for making petrol bombs and breaking into buildings (presumably for squatting). You get the impression the Apostles were bursting with ideas. I wonder if the other releases in their massive discography are similarly dense?

Blow It Up Burn It Down Kick It Till It Breaks takes me into the Apostles’ world so effectively that I’m eager to explore more of their discography. (As a devoted fan of the Fall, you might guess I have a weakness for bands with huge discographies and a proclivity for immersive world-building.) The small amount of research I’ve done on the group leads me to believe Blow It Up Burn It Down Kick It Till It Breaks might be one of the more straightforward releases in the Apostles’ discography, but if anyone has tips on what to explore next, I’m all ears.

Visitors: Electric Heat 7” (1979, Deep Cuts Records)

I don’t have much info for you about this single, which I struck from my want list last week. It had been there for many years courtesy of my friend Shane. Unfortunately for me, Shane moved back to his hometown of Portland a few years ago, but while he was in Raleigh, we would hang out every so often. We’d always play records for each other. He’d show up with a big stack of vinyl that I’d never heard before, and all of it would be on my want list by the end of the night. Such was the case with this 1979 EP from Visitors.

I haven’t been able to dig up much info about Visitors. I know they were from Edinburgh, Scotland, and the title track’s lyrics and the snowy photo of the band on the cover are right in line with what I imagine that city must be like in winter. I can’t find any info about any of the members’ other projects, though Visitors released a second single in 1980 and a third in 1981. I found a YouTube stream for the third single and it had a lush, 60s-influenced sound that reminded me of the Teardrop Explodes. Very different vibes than these three tracks. These the tracks have been compiled several times, so maybe one of those comps has liner notes that shed a little more light on Visitors?

As for Electric Heat, it’s a great single, certainly worthy of being comped several times. Standing on the verge of synth-punk, the title track’s lumbering post-punk combined with the primitive synth sound makes me think of Dub Housing-era Pere Ubu, but much starker, more primitive, and DIY. The second track, “Moth,” is cut from a similar cloth, while the b-side, “One Line,” is a waxing and waning number whose build-ups remind me of the Stranglers. Not a dud among the three, and when you throw in a snazzy pic sleeve, you have a very exciting single.

The Homosexuals: The Homosexuals’ Record LP (Recommended Records, 1984)

Like many people, I was introduced to the Homosexuals via the Astral Glamour 3CD collection that came out in 2004. That collection was the talk of the town when it came out, and deservedly so. Compiling everything the Homosexuals recorded, it was a fan’s dream. However, I wasn’t a Homosexuals fan (yet) when I heard it, and three jam-packed CDs is a lot for a new listener to process. My takeaway at the time was that the Homosexuals were a great band, “Hearts in Exile” was their best song, and the rest of their output was there for me to explore at a later date. I had their records sitting on my want list for ages, and a few weeks ago a copy of this album popped up for a nice price from a US seller.

I’m pretty sure all these songs appeared on Astral Glamour, but the more digestible package is hitting home with me. “Hearts in Exile” is still a standout—it’s like the best song Wire never wrote—but The Homosexuals Record presents a very different picture of who the Homosexuals were as a band than Astral Glamour. To me, there’s one side of the Homosexuals’ work that embraces the punk / UKDIY sensibility that I love… simple pop songs delivered with energy and passion. However, as with Wire, that extroverted side of the band contrasts with a more introverted, experimental streak. The Homosexuals Album was released on Recommended Records, the great, defiantly non-commercial experimental imprint that provided a home for some of the most out there sounds of the 80s. While “Neutron Lover” or “Hearts in Exile” might be an odd fit for Recommended Records, even comparatively poppy tracks like “Vociferous Slam” and “A Million Keys” have moments that wander into some pretty noisy stuff.

Speaking of noisy, one thing that surprised me about getting an original pressing of this record is how hot and abrasive the mastering job is. I don’t know if that was intentional, but the treble end of the spectrum is so hot that it can make your teeth hurt. Actually, after the LP was done, my wife asked that I not play it again when she was around… I’m sure she liked the songs, but the production is super abrasive. That’s something I never noticed on Astral Glamour.

The Homosexuals’ music is dense with ideas and pushes hard against the boundaries of the punk / post-punk sound, so I’ll need a lot more time with the album before I have anything original to say about it. However, it’s been great to spend time with a record that has that 70s punk / post-punk sound that I love so much, but still feels like a new discovery for me.