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Hey there friends in Sorry State Land, how’s it going? Hopefully wherever you live, it’s amongst a populace that believes in democracy and human rights ahead of money and greed, unlike here in North Carolina where despite the best efforts of some, the state remained embarrassingly red. Unfortunately, I am not able to vote, but applaud those that did and boo hiss at those that didn’t bother. It was a close race, and those extra votes would have made the difference. Okay, politics aside for now… let’s talk music.

I was wondering what to write about this week (as I do every week), but on hearing the news of the passing of Brazilian singer Gal Costa yesterday my choice was made. She died aged 77 in Sao Paolo and Brazil, along with her world of fans, mourns her passing. An artist held in high regard and one who maintained a fifty plus year career in music. May she rest in power.

In the year 2022, it might be safe to assume that most of you reading have heard of her and a good bet that many of you have some of her records in your collection. For many that became interested in the music of Brazil, we came to know Gal through her involvement with the hugely influential Tropicalia movement of the 1960s. A time of great political upheaval across the world, but particularly in countries like Brazil where an authoritarian government was in place. It’s ironic that now, as Brazil has rejected their fascist leadership, we here in America are leaning in towards the type of government that they had back then and had to fight against. Perhaps we’ll see a musical movement rejecting the right wing here in contemporary America along the lines of Tropicalia. Although the punk and hip-hop community certainly have something to say, it would be great to hear more from the Country and Pop music worlds also. And I said we we’re setting politics aside. Ha. It’s almost impossible, though, when talking about an artist such as Gal Costa, who from the very beginning was a non-conformist, and whilst her pals Caetano Veloso and Gilberto Gil were in exile, kept their music alive in Brazil by covering many of their songs.

My introduction to her and this period of music came during the late 1990s when, finally, the music could be heard. Kurt Cobain famously helped to hip people to Tropicalia, and soon after you began seeing reissues of Os Mutantes and other Tropicalia records appear in record shops. Mr. Bongo in the UK provided many of us with our first vinyl copies of some of these records when he/they started out. The album called Tropicalia Ou Panis Et Circencis, released in 1968, was the album that launched the sound out unto the world. It’s great, and features Gal Costa, Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil, Os Mutantes, and Tom Ze with arrangements by another legend Rogerio Duprat. If you haven’t heard it, you should click here and fall down the rabbit hole that will open up for you.

When I moved to New York City in 1998, I soon ran into several Brazilians living there, and a small scene playing Brazilian and Latin music, and my mind and record collection expanded. It was obvious right away that seeking original copies of records from this period from Brazil was almost impossible, and if you did, they were either beat to death or, for a nice copy, very expensive. Similar to the reggae music world. Thankfully, as I mentioned before, more and more represses of key records were getting put on the market, along with great compilations from labels such as Mr. Bongo and Soul Jazz, among others. I was able to find reissues of a couple of Gal Costa’s records, and they have been among my favorite records from that scene. I love the cover artwork for starters, one with a psychedelic jungle tropical painting and the other with a portrait shot of Gal sporting a feather boa. You can often judge a record based on its cover art, and on these two you get what you might expect and so much more. Both from 1969, titled simply Gal and Gal Costa, respectively. Technically, not her first records, as she debuted a couple of years earlier on one called Domingo with Caetano Veloso. Gal’s distinctive vocals mix wonderfully with the incredible music underneath. You get the full Tropicalia experience on these two albums. Kitchen sink production throwing everything from wild psych guitar fuzz, sweet strings, funky bass lines and beats in your face. On the song Tuareg from Gal, you get a middle eastern, Arabic sound to fit the song title. That tune has become one of my favorites and would often be played at DJ gigs. It’s a groove.

There are so many great songs across these two records. The cut Baby is universally loved and was beautifully interpreted by Rita Lee and Os Mutantes as well. The musicianship, songwriting, arrangements, production, and Gal’s voice all combine to create masterpieces that transcend their time and have reverberated through the decades and will continue to amaze new listeners for years to come.

In the wake of her passing there will be lots of good pieces written by actual writers and you should read them, as I will be doing, and you should also research the whole Tropicalia scene and Brazilian music in general because it’s brilliant. Just like the football, in a league of its own.

Thank you Gal, and thank you Brazil for gifting the world with your wonderful music.

-Dom

What’s up Sorry Staters?

Don’t you find it funny when you discover unexpected things about yourself? I don’t talk about it too much here in our newsletter, but I do appreciate a bangin’ 60s psych tune from time to time. Whether it’s “Send Me A Postcard” by Shocking Blue or SF Sorrow-era Pretty Things, I do have a soft spot for this era of rock’n’roll. Another band who I’ve discovered has a few tunes that I think are bangers is Nazz. Whenever used Nazz records roll through Sorry State, we never price them super high and I’m not sure how well appreciated they are in the psychedelic rock community. But a song like “Forget All About It,” the opening track from Nazz’s 2nd LP, is just a total gem to my ears.

So, the thing about Nazz is the band featured a young Todd Rundgren. Rundgren’s solo stuff has never really grabbed my attention. Even with me digging into some Nazz stuff, I always assumed Rundgren’s solo stuff was more aligned with like proggy, flute-laden adult contemporary. Like a more hip Michael McDonald or something. Even with Greg Graffin from Bad Religion name-checking him as a favorite artist, I still never cared to give Rundgren the time of day. That said, at one point the dude must’ve been pretty damn popular because we get tons of used Todd Rundgren records from people’s collections constantly. So many, in fact, that we have a dedicated Todd Rundgren tab in our used classic rock section. When I’m filing records, I still give the occasional eye-roll as I flip past Rundgren’s thickly beefed out section, collecting months of dust as they don’t sell too often.

Now here’s where it gets interesting: the other day I was listening to a podcast about Big Star. Yes, I know. I’m one of those dudes. I can’t help it. Big Star’s obscure, sweet melodies get me in the feels like many-a cliché record nerd. Anyway, in the podcast, the hosts are discussing the making of Big Star’s 2nd album, Radio City. This album, of course, sees the absence of Big Star forming member Chris Bell, and has Alex Chilton taking over a grand majority of the songwriting and vocal performances. The hosts of the podcast were talking about Chilton’s influences and mentioned that at the time Radio City was being recorded, Chilton was super into Todd Rundgren. They go on to say that some of Rundgren’s early solo material was a glowing example and highly influential on what would later be described as “jangle” or “power pop”… to which I thought to myself, “Uh, seriously??” They played a short clip of a Todd Rundgren song I had never heard before... So, here’s me, sitting listening to this podcast, hearing this clip of an artist who I had rolled my eyes at for years and I think… “OH NO, do I actually LIKE Todd Rundgren??” Bahahahahahaha!!

The clip of the Rundgren song that played is called “Couldn’t I Just Tell You”. I went and looked up the song on YouTube and immediately just loved it. When I hear this song, to me it’s totally obvious how it would have been influential on Chilton’s songwriting. Lush, jangly guitars, hooky melodies, a sense of melancholy underneath the surface. It’s all there. Almost even kinda reminds of the good moments of Badfinger and bands in that vein. This track is from Rundgren’s 2nd solo record, Something / Anything?, which is a double album. Have I dived into the rest of songs on this 25-song album? HEELLLL no hahaha. Maybe I’ll give it a shot. I wouldn’t be surprised if I don’t like nearly as many songs as “Couldn’t I Just Tell You,” but hey, who woulda thought? From what I hear, a huge, expanded box set version of Something / Anything? Is coming out for the Black Friday Record Store Day drop in a couple weeks. Just in time to ruin my life. Will I actually end up taking one home with me? Probably not. Maybe I can get “Couldn’t I Just Tell You” on a single or something haha.

Before I get crucified for writing this, if any of you readers like a good melody and haven’t heard this song before, humor me and give it a shot. Even if you never listen to any other Rundgren song ever after that.

That’s all the nerding out I’ve got for ya this week. As always, thanks for reading.

Y’all probably won’t hear from me next week because I’ll be outta town gigging with Public Acid. But ‘til next time,

-Jeff

Chicken Bowels: S/T 7” (1987, Kagai Mousu Records)

This week I slayed a white while.

Before I get to that, though, a short rant. The word “grail” in relation to record collecting always grates against my ear. I doubt our sophisticated and cultured Sorry State readers would use so uncouth a term, but I see it a lot in the wider world of vinyl, used among the same people who use the word “vinyls” (a word that also grates against my ear, but so does the weirdly conservative grammarian backlash against it, so I just stay out of that debate altogether). I guess the problem is that the word gets overused, as in “I went to the record store today and found three grails!” To me, a grail is not just an album you like. If you think about the metaphor, the Holy Grail is something you spend a lifetime searching for, never knowing whether it exists, much less whether you’ll find it. If any punk records have that status, it would only be ones you’d be lucky to see, let alone own, in your lifetime… I’m thinking of things like the Necros skatepark sleeve or the Minor Threat Out of Step test pressing with the silk-screened sleeve. This is a class of records even beyond things like the first pressings of the Minor Threat EP or Nervous Breakdown. There are a thousand copies out there of both records, and even though demand outstrips that supply to where their values have gone through the roof, they change hands with some regularity. A grail, on the other hand, is an item of almost mythic status.

The white whale, though, that’s an appropriate metaphor for this week. The white whale, Moby Dick, literally took a piece of Captain Ahab, setting him on a lifelong journey for recompense. Beyond simple revenge, Ahab’s quest for the whale is existential… he will never be whole again until he conquers it. Unlike the Holy Grail, the white whale doesn’t exist in that strange space between myth and reality… it’s real, and Ahab encounters it several times, but never gets the best of it. This is my story with this Chicken Bowels 7” though, unlike Ahab, my tale ends in triumph, not tragedy.

My story with Chicken Bowels goes back to the early 2000s. I’m sure I’ve mentioned this several times in the newsletter because it was such a formative event in my relationship with punk music and record collecting, but one summer my friend Joel ceremoniously (Joel loves ceremony) dropped off his entire record collection at my house and left it there for several months. Joel was a manic collector of Japanese hardcore, and had all the classic records like Gauze and G.I.S.M. and the Comes and Lip Cream and Death Side when I was obsessed with those records, but only knew them from mp3 files. Holding those artifacts in my hands only increased their mystique and allure. Joel also had a ton of under the radar rippers I had never heard before, and I listened to every single record in his collection that summer, soaking up every scrap of knowledge I could. I visited Japan twice in the next couple of years, and with a couple of exceptions (I still don’t have an original copy of Fuck Heads… at the time Joel had two!) I more or less replicated Joel’s collection. Japan’s record stores are something else.

Chicken Bowels, though, proved elusive. I asked about this record at every shop I visited, but came up empty on both trips. Which got under my skin, because this record got its hooks into me. Even among the Japanese hardcore hall of fame that was Joel’s record collection, Chicken Bowels’ EP was unique. It didn’t sound like anything else. And since it came in 1987, way later than many of the hardest to find classics, and didn’t have the hype associated with the scene’s big names, I should have been able to find it.

Like Ahab, I had a few encounters with this white whale over the next two decades. I’ve had a saved eBay search for “Chicken Bowels” for that entire time, but I can’t recall ever seeing one up for sale. (Popsike tells a different story… there are nine eBay auctions for the EP archived there, but there hasn’t been one since 2013. Amazingly, though, two copies sold barely a week apart in the fall of 2006.) Whenever I heard a friend was visiting Japan, I always asked them to look for a copy for me (a strategy that proved effective for nabbing other elusive wants like Bastard’s Wind of Pain and the Aburadako flexi). At some point, I remember hearing that Joel had given his copy of the Chicken Bowels 7” to our friend Brandon as a wedding present. I got several great records from Brandon when he downsized his collection a few years after that, but I think I remember hearing that his copy of Chicken Bowels went to Mark from Beach Impediment, with whom it presumably still resides. I remember once someone on the Viva La Vinyl message board listed a copy for sale (I think it might have been Burkhard, who put together the Flex discography books). He didn’t name a price, so (if I remember correctly) I offered him $150, which at the time was consistent with what the EP had sold for on eBay and Discogs. He said the offer was way too low, and I guess he was right, because someone made him a better offer and he took it before I could counter. The white whale had escaped my grasp once again.

A few weeks ago I dropped in on the “items for sale in your want list” page on Discogs, as I am wont to do, and that garish red and yellow cover felt like it smacked me in the face. There was a problem, though: the record was in Australia, and it wasn’t available for purchase in the United States. I sprang to attention and sent the seller a message, explaining that I was happy to pay their asking price and whatever it cost to ship the record to the US. I expected nothing would come of it. If you spend a lot of time on Discogs, you know that the best records at the best prices disappear from the site in minutes. I thought for sure someone would buy the record before the seller responded to my message or before we worked out a deal. Luckily, though, the seller not only wrote back right away, but took down the listing to ensure no one else would buy it while we worked out the details. I tried to suppress my excitement, because there was still the lengthy waiting game of international shipping. While that process wasn’t without incident (the seller sent me the wrong tracking number, leading to a semi-freakout when I saw the record was delivered to a parcel locker in San Diego), the record showed up earlier this week.

You’d think that, with so much buildup, getting this EP in my hands would be unsatisfying, but that is not the case. Getting to pore over this artifact and blast it from my turntable reminded me how much I fucking love this weird ass little record.

I’ve never been able to dig up much information about Chicken Bowels, but here’s what I know. I believe they were from Hiroshima, and their drummer was Muka-Chin, whose name you might recognize since he played drums on most of Death Side’s records. Aside from their guitarist, Motsu, handling vocals in Half Years, I know little about the other members’ resumes. However, the Chicken Bowels EP was produced by Zigiyaku, a towering figure in the history of Japanese hardcore. Zigiyaku first came to prominence playing guitar in the legendary band Gudon, then formed Half Years, then Bastard, then Judgement. From what I understand, Zigiyaku was the main creative force behind those bands, and hence was one of the major figures who shaped what we now understand as the Japanese hardcore sound. It’s hard to tell how much of a hand he had in the Chicken Bowels record since a producer credit could mean just about anything, but there’s a certain magic to this recording that I suspect may have come from a sprinkling of Zigiyaku’s magic fairy dust.

Getting reacquainted with this EP this week, it struck me that every one of its six songs has at least one signature climactic moment. A band is lucky if they can capture a single moment like this on an entire record, but somehow Chicken Bowels got one into every track, and they’re all different. In the first track, “Keep Our Fire Burning,” it’s the striking, melodic bass line in the chorus, which always reminded me of funeral bells tolling, simultaneously melancholic and grandiose. On the second track, “You Live in Dream,” it’s the way the guitarist drops out of the riff on the chorus. “No Control” has one of the most epic guitar solos I’ve ever heard, played with all the melodic sophistication and creativity of a brilliant bebop jazz player. And there’s the entirety of “Fuckin’ Crime,” which ends the EP on a joyously snotty note that reminds me more of the Swanky’s light-hearted pogo punk than the heavier and grimmer sounds on the rest of the record.

And then there’s the record as an artifact. A big part of Japanese hardcore’s draw is that they do things I would never expect, and this EP is a perfect encapsulation of that aesthetic. There’s the band name… why on earth would you call your band Chicken Bowels? Perhaps it’s a significant phrase in Japanese language or culture, but to me it sounds delightfully absurd. And then there’s the record’s layout, which uses bright and striking colors that look more like a children’s toy than a hardcore record, the nutso cover illustration, and the idiosyncratic choice of typefaces. The lyrics are along the same lines… who knows what they sound like to a native Japanese speaker, but to me they are ludicrous, yet strangely evocative. From “Lie and Truth:”

Lie and truth Ramdom (sic) space

Lie and Truth Sloppy relation

Lie and Truth Oh, no! No! No! No!

From “You Live in Dream:”

You are very-very-nonsence

Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it!

From “No Control:”

Hurry up! No future

Drop out! Dirty crows

No! No! Control

Die! Just yourself

Go Down! Kill yourself!

Get out! Noisy crows

Make a fresh start of life

People will talk!

(Note: I’ve excluded part of the lyrics that are printed in Kanji since I don’t know how to type them.)

So, has this strange little record made me feel whole again? It has… if only a little. I’ve always been more of a gatherer than a hunter of records, preferring to enjoy the records that find me rather than chasing down wants with an obsessive zeal. When you lust after things, you build them up too much, and at some point the chase is better than the catch. Holding the Chicken Bowels EP in my hands, though, feels like coming home. It’s deepened my appreciation of a record I already loved, but also unlocked a sheaf of memories I’ve been happy to revisit here. Hopefully, I’ll continue to get a hit of that joy every time I take it off the shelf.

Mutated Void: Slash the Altar 7” (Sewercide Records) Hot on the heels of their recent 12” on Iron Lung, we have another 8-song 7” from Canada’s Mutated Void. I really liked that 12”, but I feel like my description didn’t get that across… I felt like I needed a flight of poetic fancy to get across how unique that record is, but it didn’t say everything I wanted to say about Mutated Void. That’s OK, though, because I like Slash the Altar even more. Part of that might be that Mutated Void’s music is so abrasive that it’s easier to digest in small chunks, but Slash the Altar is also just a really strong record. Its sequencing works very well, and the a-side is a master class in hardcore dynamics. The first track, “Slash the Altar,” is Mutated Void in a nutshell. I love that the title seems to reference both black metal and skateboarding, and the main riff sounds like something Darkthrone might have come up with during their punk-influenced 00s era, though with the super abrasive and raw production of Goatlord. The riff is straight up nasty, and when the drummer does that slow tom roll into the chorus it gives me those hardcore goosebumps I love. Mutated Void follows that up with two ultra-fast rippers that, like the Iron Lung 12”, make me think of Septic Death more than anything else, then they change things up again for the standout a-side closer, “Tent City.” That song starts with a huge, crashing intro that makes you think all hell is about to break loose, but instead the bottom falls out and the song goes into this eerie, groovy part that seems to have a bit of Agent Orange in it, but it doesn’t sound like much else I can think of. The b-side is killer too, but I could listen to those four tracks on the a-side over and over. Any way you slice it though, Mutated Void has created two of the most unique and memorable hardcore records of 2022.

What’s up Sorry State readers, I hope everyone had a fun Halloween weekend. Today I was gonna switch it up and write about how I spent my weekend over in Asheville for the annual Billy Strings Halloween shows. I went with one of my good buddies and we took his van, which was a lot more spacious than I expected. We were able to raise the top and fold out another upper sleeping area and set up a table and chairs, so we were pretty comfortable rolling around in our little mobile home for the weekend and parking in various parking lots to sleep. We arrived late Friday night and the first of three shows was Saturday night, so we just chilled that night and woke up and got some breakfast and went on a nice hike in the morning. I love being up in the mountains this time of year and seeing all the Fall colors. It never gets old. The theme for the shows was Lord of the Rings, so each night musically played out the plot of each movie, starting with The Fellowship of The Ring. The sight of Billy Strings walking out on stage as Frodo and the band dressed as the rest of the fellowship (Gandalf on upright bass, Legolas on Fiddle, Sam on mandolin, Aragorn on banjo) is a sight I don’t think I’ll soon forget. Lots of other people joined them on stage throughout the shows, including a flute player, another fiddle player, and even Gollum ripping metal cello solos. They played an array of music set to the plot of the movies which included songs from the movies like Bilbo’s birthday song, original Billy songs, and covers of songs by artists like Doc Watson, Johnny Cash, Leadbelly, Black Sabbath, and a bunch more. I have too many favorite moments from throughout these shows but if I had to pick a few, it would be Gandalf singing Ring of Fire, Gollum’s fucked up cello solo when he first showed up, and the nine-piece band Freeborn Man encore at the end of the second show. Not to mention the insane almost 20 minute Meet Me at the Creek, which had the sweetest sounding flute solo I’ve ever heard. The attention to detail was great, like Gandalf emerging from smoke on stage the second night in an all white robe and a chrome bass representing his return as Gandalf the White. These shows were so much fun. There are not too many other ways I’d wanna spend my Halloween weekend than in the Blue Ridge Mountains dressed like a Hobbit and living out of a van with one of my best friends while watching one of our favorite bands play. Go see Billy live. You won’t regret it!

https://youtu.be/ls18VzQDK-M

Hey fam! How’s everyone doing? All is well on my end. The two days of Fall we had were so great, but the weather said “siiiike it’s still summer, burn in Hell!” so it’s gonna be like 80 degrees all weekend. So gross. Fake Fall is real, and it hurts.

No internal debate necessary for this week’s staff pick. Hands down, it’s the Judy and the Jerks Music to go Nuts LP. To call it an LP is a stretch to be honest. It’s more of a super solid EP. Anyway, I’ve heard bits of this record coming from Daniel’s office and I’ve asked what he was listening to on at least two different occasions and the answer was always Judy and the Jerks. So I figured it was time to sit with it myself. I played it, loved it, and haven’t stopped playing it.

This record is a great mix of sounds that all work. Some of it has a more playful retro surfer punk sound with the snotty vocals, and some of it is hardcore. There’s even a more lo-fi punk track for good measure.

The tight AF rhythm section and meaner sound on the song Nothing to Prove stopped me in my tracks. It’s very anthemic and I can see this one getting a crowd going. Scorpion is another one on repeat. You can’t not like it. Kudos to Hampton Martin, who has a real talent for sliding in and effortlessly syncing up to the beat. I’m such an appreciator of a really tight and instinctual rhythm section with clean drum beats and catchy bass lines. A lot of times you’re lucky to get one or two songs where the bass stands out, but on this record the bass is THE standout for me.

California is the catchiest, danciest song on the record. The lyrics are super fun (“start a band and tour the Northwest, maybe we could even play the Olympia hardcore fest. Make it big just like Black Flag. Be on the cover of the Maximum Rocknroll mag”). Delivered with bratty sarcastic vocals and a great beat, it’s kind of addicting.

The band really switches things up with the closing song, Control. This is a way more lo-fi, dare I say grungier sounding track with an intro that seems longer than most of the songs. It’s not though, don’t worry. The guitar really shines on this track, even leading the song into noise rock territory for a brief moment toward the end before reeling things back in. It’s a really well-rounded song that adds interest to the mix and reminds you of what the band is capable of. I think it’s a cool move to close the album with a track that sounds the most different from any other song on the album.

We have a few copies left, and I highly recommend it. I’ve been keeping track of my top 10 records for the year and this one just made its way in.

Thanks for reading!

Angela

HEADCLEANERS are one of my favorite Swedish bands. This opinion probably changes on a daily basis between TOTALITÄR, MISSBRUKARNA, NO SECURITY, ANTI-CIMEX, or maybe even AVSKUM. HEADCLEANERS stick out to me as one of the greatest cos their sound is unique compared to the heavy, straight-forward DISCHARGE or UK82 influence on most Swedish bands. While they play with an obvious nod to DISCHARGE, they incorporate other elements like the wonky yet very catchy guitar lead (or flute… haha). I’ve always loved the look of all their record covers and inserts as well, so that really adds to my liking of the band. So naturally when we have a HEADCLEANERS compilation 12” in stock, I am going to write about it! While this isn’t an official release, I am happy to have these songs all together in one place with some good quality sound. The A side of the record opens up with their tracks from Really Fast Vol. 1, although it says they are from Vol. 2 on the insert, haha. Since there is not a proper track listing and I am high, it’s easy to get lost when listening. So please forgive me if I fuck up. After the Really Fast tracks comes (most of) their tracks from Varning!! För Punk compilation. However, the tracks on that CD compilation are just tracks from their 1981 split with PICNIC BOYS and Really Fast Vol. 1. Following those comes their 1981 Disinfection EP. The B side finishes off with their tracks from Beating The Meat, which came out in 1984. But those songs are not exclusive to the compilation. I am pretty sure they are just the missing songs from the Varning tracks that already appeared, basically making the A side complete with their earliest recordings. I will say though, the recordings they used did come from Beating The Meat, cos HEADCLEANERS added those silly intros/outros to their tracks when they appeared on that comp later. The B side opens up with their track from the Welcome to 1984 compilation. However, that is the same recording from the Disinfection EP that has already appeared on the A side, haha. Following that is their Infection Grows EP, which came out in 1983. Then comes their 1984 tracks from the Vårt Fria Land split to finish off the record. Aside from some obscure song(s) that appeared only on a cassette in the ‘80s, I don’t think there is anything missing from this compilation. That makes this a complete HEADCLEANERS collection, which has never been done on vinyl before. I read in an interview from like ten years ago with Mats, the mastermind of HEADCLEANERS, where he said that one day there will be a discography release of some sorts. I am not sure if or when that day will come, but until then, I’d grab one of these slabs to hold you down. Alright that’s it for today, cheers and thanks for reading!!

Howdy, howdy Sorry Staters. I hope everyone is well and had a fun time over the Halloween weekend. We want to thank local folks who came and visited us and scooped a lot of the cool horror soundtracks and Halloween related records we filled the bins with. “Best In Show” award goes to one of our longtime friend David who turned up in a great costume. You may have seen his photo on our social media. Go check it out. David, if you are reading, we want to hook you up with something as a prize next time you come in to the shop.

I was sort of expecting to get into the autumn mood by now, but the weather has still been warm here in North Carolina. We’ve had one or two cooler days and Halloween Monday was a bit wet and dreary, but otherwise it’s still been t-shirt comfortable and sunny. Global warming much? As we get into November, that will change soon and with that in mind I was determined to find a fall weather mood type record that was new to me and that we had in the store for me to recommend to you all this week. What to pick was the question, and I had some ideas but then yesterday we received an order from one of our distributors that had a reissue of a record I was completely unaware of that, on reading the hype sticker, seemed to fit the bill perfectly. So, for my pick this week I would like to steer you towards Sad Lovers And Giants and their 1982 debut album called Epic Garden Music, originally released on Midnight Music.

In my, ahem, fifty-plus years on this spinning rock in space, I can safely say that no matter how much you know, you still know nothing. That’s particularly true with music and records. I own lots of records and have had even more and sold, touched, seen, and listened to thousands more over the years, but I am constantly reminded that I know shit. Just a fraction of all the great music that is out there. Since the birth of recorded music, each generation has had thousands of musicians and bands out there playing and making records. Some make it and some don’t. Some gain cult status and others remain known only to the few. These days in the post-everything internet world where information about anything is just a mouse click away, it’s hard to imagine a world where you had to get your news and information from wherever you could get it. For me, growing up in the late 70s and 80s, it was buying all the weekly music papers and listening to the radio that hipped me to new bands, etc. That and reading the backs of other records and, of course the absolute best way, going into a record store. Still, plenty fell between the cracks and was missed, and Sad Lovers And Giants was one of those bands that I missed during their heyday.

The hype sticker on this reissue described the band, who hailed from sunny Watford, England, as being somewhere between The Chameleons, Echo & The Bunnymen and The Cure with a sound that utilized a lot of the same tricks as those groups. Cool, sign me up. Three of my favorite groups right there. If they can capture the mood of those guys, then I will like them for sure. I took the record home last night and have played it three times since, and obviously as I am writing about it now, I liked it. The comparisons to the aforementioned bands were an accurate one, and I would also throw in similarities to some of the deeper cuts from Modern English.

This reissue also tacks on some single cuts from the period that are a great addition. Those singles are quite tough to track down and get cheap. Most likely due to running time and trying to squeeze all the tracks on to one piece of vinyl, they did have to swap the last track of the album with a single cut and start the b-side of the LP with that last track from the album before the rest of the single sides. It’s a small niggle to have, but technically it isn’t the correct running order. Not to worry though, as having these single sides, as I said, is a great addition. You can hear even more aspects of the band’s oeuvre. One track, Lost In A Moment, brings to the fore the slightly jangly paisley psych sound they had and reminded me of the sort of guitar sound that Johnny Marr was using for The Smiths.

As Jeff and I were listening to the record here at the store today, he told me that he had a great LP compilation of the band’s singles, and as I was reading their Wiki page for their story, we discovered that when the band broke up after the second album, two of the guys went on to form The Snake Corps. Another band that I am not familiar with but naturally Jeff was, and he confirmed that you can clearly hear the guitar player is the same dude. We did a quick play test of a Snake Corps track to confirm. Apparently, there was a lot of back and forth with the band members leaving SL&G and then returning later at various points. These changes, the early split of the band just as they were getting a head of steam going, particularly in Europe, and the distribution difficulties that the label was having, go a good way to explaining why they never broke bigger. Over the years, more and more fans of this era of music have discovered them and they do have a strong following enough to warrant reunion shows and records well into the 2010s. They can count me as a fan now and I encourage lovers of moody UK 80s Indie to investigate. This reissue we have from Radiation is limited and on nice sounding white vinyl. Get to our webstore and snag yourself one or come visit us in person. Click here to listen.

On one last note: I wanted to acknowledge the passing of one of the last original rock ‘n rollers, the Killer, Mr. Jerry Lee Lewis. He was one hell of a character and may have made some questionable decisions during his lifetime, but you can’t argue about the great records he made. Those early Sun sides are part of the building blocks of Rock ‘n Roll. He carried on making good records throughout the 1960s and into the 1970s and switched to country music for a while. Those albums aren’t too bad, but if you need to listen to a great example of his power as a performer I would encourage you to check out his Live At The Star Club album from 1964 where he is backed by The Nashville Teens in a great rocking set. For those fans of the Killer, we have scored a box of gold colored 45s with his versions of Save The Last Dance For Me b/w Am I To Be The One. I like the latter tune. These 45s came out in 1978 and were wrongly rumored to have Elvis Presley duetting with Jerry Lee. This was not the case, but it’s a good story and the singer does sound a bit like Elvis. Come through and snag one—we’re selling ‘em cheap.

Okay, that’s me done and trying to meet the deadline. Thanks for reading and see you around these parts next time. Cheers - Dom

October has passed us by and I find myself feeling a bit of post-Halloween depression. I did feel a bit sad removing the decorations, pulling down all the spider webs and removing all the skulls and pumpkins we scattered all over the store. It was fun while it lasted. Appreciate all you locals who showed spirit and came to the store dressed in costume!

So what can cure these blues? How ‘bout some Charged GBH? I’m not sure how long it’s been since the classic records by the UK rippers GBH have been in print. I know every now and then we would get in used copies of those 00s Earmark pressings, which are fine. They had glossy looking packaging, but I feel like they were kinda pricey. Jah bless Radiation though, because now both iterations of “City Baby” and the singles collection LP are back in stock at Sorry State. I was talking to Dom at the store, and he was telling me that he and John Scott were jamming City Baby Attacked By Rats. I love that record, but I was like did you jam the first one? While of course I was a fan of City Baby, these days I still always gravitate toward Leather, Bristles, Studs and Acne. The reissue we just stocked is actually titled Leather, Bristles, No Survivors, and Sick Boys, which has the first 12” and a couple of the early singles squeezed onto one LP. Don’t get me wrong, City Baby’s Revenge has some bangers on it too. “Drug Party in 526”? Come on, classic.

I’ve loved GBH since I was like 14, the little spikey street punk that I was. While some bands from my street punk days have not aged quite as well for me, GBH still sounds as good to me, if not better than they ever did. That intro to “Race Against Time” still gets my blood boiling and makes me clench my fists. A stoke attack occurs every time I drop the needle. Whereas Discharge represented the stark, serious side of the Clay Records catalog, GBH captures the crude, mutant, brutish meathead, almost even funny side of UK82 hardcore. They’re equal parts Motorhead and Saturday morning cartoon. They’re simultaneously exciting and violently dangerous. Dead serious and cool looking in leather, while also goofy. Classic tracks like “Big Women” always come to mind. The lyrics in Sick Boy, “I’m like a sardine in a can… people taking notes, people in white coats!” Mental case, leather-clad mutant music. And because of that, I feel like GBH is sometimes underestimated. Great songs with catchy, crowd-chantable choruses that contain the perfect dose of heavy metal power. Huge guitars, powerful production. It’s rebellious, street-wise bad boy shit in the best way. I love it.

If you’re a sick boy who’s living their life on the edge of a knife, maybe it’s time to blast some GBH this weekend. This reissue comes with a poster that’s just a giant foldout of Colin, the singer. Kinda centerfoldish… Was he a punk heartthrob back in the day? I dunno…

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got to say this week. As always, thanks for reading.

‘Til next week,

-Jeff

Jerry A. Lang: Black Heart Fades Blue (2022, Rare Bird)

This week I finished Jerry A from Poison Idea’s 3-volume autobiography, Black Heart Fades Blue. I can’t remember what rabbit hole I was falling down when I came across the page on Rare Bird’s site where you could order an autographed set of all three books, but remembering that Poison Idea-related stuff often isn’t easy to get (I still haven’t seen the Legacy of Dysfunction documentary), I grabbed it while I could. If you’re a big P.I. fan (and if you’re reading this, you probably are), I’d advise you to get while the gettin’ is good.

What did I think? It’s fucking Jerry A’s autobiography! How could I not love this? Black Heart Fades Blue splits Jerry’s story into three volumes. The first covers Jerry’s life until Poison Idea recorded Kings of Punk, the second volume covers the most intense years of Jerry’s notorious problems with addiction, and the third volume covers the period of (relative) sobriety when he picks up the pieces after living for decades as if tomorrow would never come. When I ordered the books, I wasn’t super clear on why Black Heart Fades Blue was published as three separate volumes rather than one long one, and I must admit it’s not much clearer after reading the entire set. The boundaries between the three volumes are porous, and there’s even a disclaimer at the front of each book encouraging anyone who comes across the volumes separately to read them together if they can. While I’m still a bit puzzled by the decision, it’s not too big a deal… I hate heavy books, anyway.

I read a lot of musicians’ biographies, and while it’s the music that prompts me to pick up the book, I often enjoy the parts of the books where the artists write about their childhood even more than the music-related tales. This is the case with Black Heart Fades Blue, as Jerry writes about his childhood bouncing back and forth between divorced parents in rural Montana and Eugene, Oregon. Both environments are dysfunctional and soaking in substances, but different in so many ways. I loved reading about the different drugs that were available in each environment, the different ways that kids passed the time (skateboarding versus going to sketchy swimming holes, for instance), and how Jerry had to revamp his identity and renegotiate his social standing when he moved every year. Jerry really captures the texture of a different time and place in these stories.

Speaking of stories, they’re the primary draw here. Black Heart Fades Blue is a lot like The Dirt, the book about Motley Crue, or The Hepatitis Bathtub, NOFX’s book. Like those books, Black Heart Fades Blue is bursting with crazy fucking stories, which you might expect given Poison Idea’s legendary appetite for excess. Jerry starts accumulating the wild experiences young, and they don’t stop, even when he lays down the hard drug addiction that fuels so many of his most memorable antics.

The Dirt famously does not mention Motley Crue’s music at all, and one of my few complaints about the book is that there isn’t much insider info about Poison Idea. As I was finishing Volume 1, Jerry sailed past recording their early records in just a few pages. There were some quick mentions about how Pick Your King was funded by Pig Champion’s cocaine distributor and how the band hand-assembled the record, and then a few pages later he’s writing about the cover shoot for Kings of Punk, barely even mentioning Record Collectors Are Pretentious Assholes. Maybe it’s just that conceiving and making these albums generated few significant stories, but I still would have loved to hear more about it. When Jerry goes into more detail about Poison Idea’s activity, it’s often to minimize their effort and ambition. He describes making Feel the Darkness as slapping together a few songs from previously released singles with a bit of filler. Crazy! Jerry mentions several times he doesn’t think much of self-important rock stars who tout their own achievements in their memoirs, but I wonder if he might have over-corrected a bit.

One area where Jerry’s writing excels, though, is when he writes about other people’s music. Jerry clearly loves music to his very core, and that comes across throughout the book. Unlike a lot of musicians, he remains an attentive, even rabid, fan throughout his life. Many of the best stories in the book are about his fandom, whether it’s trying in vain to get Elastica to autograph his rare 7”s, or his memorable encounter with Sakevi from G.I.S.M. Speaking of which, I got a big kick whenever Jerry name-dropped obscure international punk bands like G.I.S.M. and Lama, and there are plenty of tales that will make us record nerds salivate.

More than music, though, Black Heart Fades Blue articulates the nihilism that is so central to Poison Idea’s image and ethos. I mean, I knew the band was into drugs and lived a hedonistic lifestyle, but I guess I always assumed that was, to some degree at least, a pose. I know it is for a lot of my rocker friends, who love to talk about partying but watch as much Netflix and scroll through as much Instagram as the rest of us. But Poison Idea, particularly Jerry and Tom, fucking lived it, and it makes me hear their music differently. When you hear the stories behind songs like “Jailhouse Stomp” and “Feel the Darkness,” you realize they’re not works of pure imagination… they’re drawn from real life, and are much more shocking when rendered in the stark daylight of Jerry’s prose.