Versus: 'Paranoid' v. 'Mob Rules'

[Versus pits two of an artist’s classic albums against each other even if they’re stylistically different, because that “you can’t compare apples and oranges” bullshit is for people without balls, spines, or all those other things that separate us from the villainous jellyfish. This week's installment on Black Sabbath is dedicated to two Nicks - Elmer, because I remember him telling me sophomore year of college to explore Black Sabbath’s discography beyond Paranoid and I didn’t heed his advice for another two years or so, and Gregorio, because he’s the only guy I know who prefers Dio-era Sabbath to the Ozzy incarnation.]

A long, long time ago, I thought I was a metalhead. By this, I mean I listened to Kiss and Metallica with some of my friends back in middle school. By freshman year of high school, I was on to Tool and Our Lady Peace. By the following summer, I was a pop-punker for life, and New Found Glory, the Ramones, and the Bouncing Souls dominated my listening habits. But I never entirely forgot my ever-so-brief flirtation with metal. I enjoyed the technicality, but I couldn’t stand a lot of the pretensions – hence my interest in Tool, who always seemed more “serious,” and thus more “real” (although the band has quite a few joke tracks scattered on their albums as well). Fantasy metal of the Rhapsody variety always seemed too goofy to me; anything indebted to Led Zeppelin straight up sucked (especially the dragon pants). But I liked anything sludgy. Maybe it was my childhood roots in grunge/alternative – I am the first generation to grow up in a post-Nirvana age – but the dissonance got to me.

Enter Black Sabbath. The Sabbath I knew wrote songs about Armageddon and sin and plagues. I don’t consider myself Catholic anymore, but those images still get an emotional reaction out of me. Also, guitarist Tony Iommi wrote some sweet-ass riffs. Their most well-known songs include “Paranoid,” “Iron Man,” and “War Pigs,” all of which can be found on Paranoid. It’s not the best Sabbath album with frontman Ozzy Osbourne – I prefer Master of Reality, although I’m sure other folks would go with Sabbath Bloody Sabbath – but it remains the best entry way to the Sabbath canon, if only because most people should already know about half of the album’s 42-minute running time.

Compared to the band’s discography overall, Paranoid is the moment the band’s signature sound began to cohere. Black Sabbath is a downright bluesy affair compared to what came later, and by the time of Reality, the group was into its own sludge-metal world, but Paranoid is the crossroads. It’s funny how much of the band’s sound was defined by accident – Iommi tuned in D because it was easier on his fingers, the supremely awesome “Paranoid” is as fast/brief as it is because the band needed to know out another track for the album as quickly as possible – but these decisions mark the beginning of the Sabbath sound even as the group continues to embrace blues riffs on songs like “Jack the Stripper.”

Paranoid is a good album, but it has its weaknesses. The second half is notably weaker than the first. “Electric Funeral” is a little silly, even by metal standards. “Rat Salad” is all filler, hence the extended drum solo. “Jack the Stripper” is a decent jammed-out closer, but compared to opener “War Pigs/Luke’s Wall,” it will always be second best.

Remember all that stuff I said about hating power metal? Well, I make an exception for Ronnie James Dio. He sings about faeries and dragons and whatever-the-fuck in an operatic singing style, but it’s so got-damned fun and infectious that I can’t deny his ability. Dude wrote “Rainbow in the Dark” and somehow made the title the most awesomest thing ever.

I picked up Mob Rules after I obtained the essential Ozzy-era Sabbath albums (the first six), and it took a while for the songs to sink in. Here’s where I really test the limits of my “fuck apples ‘n’ oranges” approach for this column, because Dio-Sabbath is a very different band from Ozzy-Sabbath. The songs are tighter, the hooks are more obvious, even Iommi’s playing is different. This shift was further aided by new drummer Vinny Appice, who tapped into Dio’s version of metal more by playing on the beat pretty much all of the time, whereas original drummer Bill Ward had a looser style. I should hate this album for erasing everything that Sabbath did during the ’70s. But got-damn is it one fun record.

“Turn Up the Night” is a quick number with squealing guitars and propulsive drumming. “Voodoo” is where Dio’s penchant for shitty lyrics gets the better of him but, again, it’s too hook-laden to ignore. “Sign of the Southern Cross” gets a bit maudlin for my taste, but the band gets things back on track soon after, first with the experimental electronic track “E5150” and then the ridiculously kick-ass fist-pumper “The Mob Rules.” Lyrically, it’s an argument for researching opinions before going along with popular sentiments, hence the lines “If you listen to fools / the mob rules.” The track sums up Dio’s brief original run with Black Sabbath (two studio albums and a live record, although Dio returned for 1992’s Dehumanizer) with its insistent instrumentals and bravado.

Here’s where I soften my conclusion a little bit. The best tracks of these two albums are on Paranoid. There’s a reason why “War Pigs” is so well known. But taken as a whole, I maintain that Mob Rules is the better album. It’s more consistent, makes for better driving music, and, really, that title track is one badass tune. It’s not my favorite Sabbath album – Master of Reality, remember – but when comparing the best of the Dio catalogue with the most classically known Ozzy album, Ronnie proves he deserved his time with one of England’s finest metal bands.

Baroness - 'Blue Record' / Kylesa - 'Static Tensions'

This article is 666 words long.

Surely, future generations will speak of Savannah, Ga. in the same breath as Seattle, Wash. or Athens, Ga. Its nascent metal scene has given rise to several bands that transcend scene politics. The biggest so far is probably Mastodon, from nearby Atlanta, who earned hipster approval outside of metal circles. Indeed, Georgia has been turning out metal bands that defy metal expectations at a rapid clip. Take, for example, last year’s releases Static Tensions by Kylesa and Blue Record by Baroness.

Both bands deal in sludgy, heavy, awesome tunes. It’s certainly technical, but not to the point of exclusion. When Pat Mathis joked to Spin’s David Peisner about “…that whole heavy, doomy Southern kind of metal. When you get these old punk guys who listen to the Allman Brothers and start a metal band, that’s kind of what you get,” he was pretty accurate.

Stylistically, Kylesa and Baroness are of a piece. But dig deeper, and there are differences. Baroness is more willing to get expansive, often jamming out songs without sacrificing energy. They have a gritty appeal, but they’re not afraid to explore guitar solos or the occasional haunting, acoustic part. Blue Record, the follow-up to 2007’s even more awesome Red Album and perhaps a nod to the Beatles’ singles collections from the ’70s, even takes breaks from rocking to explore feedback and ethereal, Alice in Chains-style melodies. Mastodon gets a lot of credit for being a metal band non-metalheads can appreciate. The same could be said of Baroness.

The band’s song lengths aren’t distractingly epic – “Swollen Halo” is the only song to exceed five-and-a-half minutes – which should be attractive to, say, punk fans. Sure, the record is heavy, but it’s also easy to follow. After the delayed intro of “Bullhead’s Psalm,” the record shifts into turbo with “The Sweetest Curse,” a track that announces its metal intentions without sacrificing appeal. Over crushing riffs, John Dyer Baizley and Pete Adams bark out impressionistic lyrics and generally kick ass. They’re a little less technical or hardcore than Mastodon, but these guys deserve to be appointed Next Indie-Approved Metal Band. That said, Blue Record finds the band occasionally indulging in sounds that some folks might not be able to follow. Call them Metallica moments; times when the group busts out acoustic interludes and chugging riffage. This is of course balanced out by songs like “O’er Hell and Hide,” in which drummer Allen Blickle pounds out a rolling dance beat for most of the song, adding a bit of boogie to all the noodling. Blue Record is very much a crossover album, hinting at the better aspects of metal’s roots while incorporating other genres to form something earthier and more fun.

By comparison, Kylesa’s Static Tensions sounds downright obliterating. The low end is way more powerful here, recalling sludgy acts like Big Business or The Melvins. Just, ya know, with more solos. Album opener “Scapegoat” weaves a double-tracked drum solo throughout the tune, tempering all the bile with something a little more tribal. “Perception” opens with some backwards dialogue (Subliminal messages! Metal!) before hitting the band’s trademark grinding style before segueing into an ethereal section. Guitarist Laura Pleasants adds some otherworldly vocals to the mix, combining with drummer Eric Hernandez’s beats to create a sort of druidic experience. The album is pretty steadfast in its rocking – 40 minutes of butt-whoopin’ – but Kylesa slips in these little moments that A) let the listener know how accomplished the musicians are and B) differentiate Kylesa just enough from the pack to reveal their songs as revolutionary.

Peisner’s article mentions that the scene is starting to splinter as bands move away, but I can’t blame them for doing so. Baroness and Kylesa both released stellar albums last year, and had I been on top of my shit, both would have wound up on my best of 2009 coverage. As is, though, I’ve found a great entry way into a musical scene that I intend to explore.

Bouncing Souls - '20th Anniversary Series: Volume Four"

This was a good year to be a Bouncing Souls fan. And when I say “year,” I really do mean 365 days – the Souls played some great shows and served up new songs all year long. By now, you should know the drill – the band digitally released a song on the first of each month (or thereabouts) and a seven-inch every three months with an acoustic bonus track for their 20th anniversary series. Sometime next year, a CD collecting the original 12 songs called Ghosts on the Boardwalk will be released. As a fan, I’ve stayed excited for each new seven-inch year-round, so much so that I’m a little sad to see the project end. But hey, at least now I can put the four album covers together to form the Souls’ 20th anniversary logo.

Volume Four of the collection shouldn’t be too surprising to those who have been following the series closely. The songs are mellower than previous Souls releases like How I Spent My Summer Vacation or Maniacal Laughter. A sides “Like the Sun” and “Big Eyes” are kindred spirits – the former finds the narrator (let’s assume it’s frontman Greg Attonito) looking for love in an uncaring world, while the latter finds Attonito older, wiser and happier, imparting a message of hope to a girl stuck in the same seemingly cruel surroundings. These tunes don’t necessarily sound like a typical Souls song – not enough “whoas” – but lyrically, they pretty much sum up the band’s ethos. These guys have struggled with depression and so have their fans, and the two groups find solace in the punk rock middle.

Underground music – and let’s be honest, the Souls might be too big for that phrase save for their avoidance of MTV, radio and commercials – sometimes exhibits an exclusive coolness, a schoolyard superiority complex that takes a wee bit too much pride in its clique status. The Souls have never been that kind of a band, as these songs illustrate. The chorus to “Big Eyes” literally states what essentially every Souls has said to me: “Hey little girl don’t look so sad it’s not the end of the world / I’ve seen this film before, already know the ending / Some of the faces change but the plot it stays the same / So take my hand / Let’s walk away.” It’s going to be OK. Like a certain other Souls song says, “I built this cloud / I can break it / The world can’t change how I feel.”

The record’s flow is similar to series highlight Volume Three, in that the first side is relatively low key, while the flipside boasts one rocker coupled with an acoustic number. “Never Say Die/When You’re Young” rocks like “Badass,” although it’s not nearly as funny/awesome. It’s still a solid track, though, carrying the same positive message as the A side. An acoustic version of “Ghosts on the Boardwalk,” originally from Volume Three, closes out the vinyl. Its energy is about the same. The song translates pretty easily into an acoustic number, perhaps aided by the group’s decision to keep the eerie intro from the full band version.

With the closing measures of “Ghosts on the Boardwalk” concludes the Bouncing Souls’ 20th anniversary series, at least until Ghosts on the Boardwalk drops. It’s been fun, there were pretty colors (my copy of Volume Four is on a black/white swirl. Mail order rules), rock was had. Now to brainstorm for the 25th anniversary…

The Besties - 'Home Free'

There’s never enough time to appreciate all the good bands while they’re around. I didn’t get into the Mescaleros until Joe Strummer was already dead. I didn’t get into Discount until Alison Mosshart became too cool for pop-punk. Now, I find myself wishing I’d heard about indie rock band The Besties in time. See, they dropped a nifty full-length this year called Home Free. It’s reminiscent of poppy acts like Juliana Hatfield, Del Cielo, Lemonheads, and maybe even Belly. Do kids still listen to those bands? Yes? No? OK, fine. Lemuria. They sound like Lemuria, only lighter. This record makes my ears high-five my brain. Clearly, I should be happy. Instead, I know only remorse. You see, The Besties are breaking up.

They’re breaking up hella soon too. Their last show is Dec. 6 with The Specific Heats and Bunnygrunt at some place in Brooklyn called Bruar Falls. It’s not fair, I tells you. There was time now! Time to skip through meadows with pretty pop tunes like “M.F.D. (for Mat Pat)” and “79 Lorimer” in my heart. Ah, but alas and/or alack! All I have to remember The Besties by is Home Free (and some other releases). Somehow, I will have to move on. I’m assuming they’d want me to choose life.

Home Free is a mighty fine collection of 11 catchy tunes. Admittedly, its second half is stronger, not that there’s anything wrong with the opening tracks. Tunes like “The Gothenburg Handshake” and “What Would Tim Armstrong Do?” are enchanting with their blend of keys, guitars, and bouncy melodies. But from “M.F.D.” through closer “79 Lorimer,” it’s all hits ahead. The hooks get more infectious, the melodies more lush, and even the instruments seem brighter. The lyrics all deal with relationships, money problems, and the band life, which are all appealing topics. In short, Home Free is a keeper, even if the band that wrote it is going away.

Barricade - 'Demons'

On their colorful disc Demons, the Pa. hardcore thrashers in Barricade beat and berate for a little less than a half-hour, turning over well-worn tough guy topics like honor, pride, and profanity along the way. Music-wise, it’s a soundtrack for mooks’ spin kicks. It’s pretty brainless, monotonous stuff, although I suppose the band deserves credit for trying to keep the tone as pummeling as possible. If you dig shows where meatballs flail their arms as violently as possible for no discernible reason, then this might serve as your soundtrack for violence.

Still, the band did a good job self-recording, as Demons avoids overprocessing the tunes in favor of a dirtier, thicker sound. The snare sounds muddy in a good way, while the vox come off extra forceful yet still discernible. The result: Demons sounds like a top-notch live record. It just happens to be a record for which I have little patience.

While Demons comes out strong on opening number “Harvey Dent,” its homogenous, all-encompassing crunch leaves little to the imagination. Forget experimentation or variety; this puppy is all about killing time until the breakdowns and two-steps kick in. It’s big on the “us vs. them” story, regaling listeners with tale after tale of egotistical phonies and worthless traitors who keep trying to keep Barricade down. And as they’ll be the first to tell you, they super-duper-aggro-terra-ultra-Crag don’t give a fudge. Only they don’t say fudge. Like, ever. If you think songs that couple the value of pride’s supreme dominance with double-bass kicks sum up your life, then uh, have at it. Just don’t hit me, you hyped-up lil devil.

Banner Pilot - 'Collapser'

Go buy Banner Pilot’s new album Collapser. Because it’s gonna be a while before those drunks in Dillinger Four drop another gravelly, Midwestern pop punk masterpiece.

OK, let me expound on that. This Minnesotan gang of band sluts dropped their Fat Wreck debut this month (second album overall, give or take a few EPs), and it’s arguably their strongest release to date. Sound engineers Jacques Wait and Dave Gardner buff out the band’s rough edges a bit. Vocalist Nick Johnson still sounds gruff, but Banner Pilot doesn’t resemble the Lawrence Arms and Jawbreaker circa Unfun so much anymore. What’s left is not unlike D4 circa their Fat years – catchy and rocking.

I’m a big fan of the two-hit combo; records that open with two tracks so utterly awesome that you want to passionately embrace something ridiculous, like a bear or the moon. Collapser hits listeners with the Dragon Punch that is “Central Standard” and then catches them Hadōken-style with “Pensacola.” Granted, they’re both about falling out with friends, but they still got the beat to move yer feet. It almost doesn’t matter what happens after these two songs. They’re everything pop punk should be – short (“Central Standard” is less than three minutes long; “Pensacola” less than two) ‘n’ sweet.

“Greenwood” carries those good vibes some more before Collapser starts to hit an early fatigue. “Starting at an Ending” is a little slower, and therefore a little less awesome. All the D4 elements are still in play – gruff vox, a hook or two, and lyrics about drankin’ – but the tempo kind of kills the album’s momentum. “Skeleton Key” similarly doesn’t start out balls-to-the-wall-blasting, but it soon kicks the bpms back up. And then the record pretty much goes back to bliss.

There’s not a single dud on the album’s back half. “Farewell to Bastards” has an infectious opening guitar hook. “Write It Down” is a perfect closing track, building itself into a fury. If anything, its final 90 seconds might be indicative of a knack for more expansive songwriting. If these guys turn out to have a Bivouac in them, I will be thoroughly excited. Thoroughly. “Empty Lot” is wicked fast. “Hold Me Up” is just straight up delicious.

So anyway, like I was saying…D4 yes please buy now.

Charles Burst - 'Come Home and Feast'

While he’s logged studio time with the New Pornographers, Crystal Stilts, and Black Dice, sound engineer Charles Bursts’ first solo album, Come Home and Feast, belongs to a different style and era altogether – ’70s soft rock, or yacht rock. His warm, comforting voice recalls James Taylor; his music Boz Scaggs circa the country of Moments and the disco/soft rock of Silk Degrees. It’s by no means bad, but the 10 songs collected are so middle-of-the-road pleasing that it’s hard to love or loathe too strongly.

While it shows signs of indie jangle, like on “Girl on the Rocks,” the record skews towards unhurried, country-flecked fare, as evidenced on tracks like “Blow the Fire Out” and “House Arrest.” It’s nice enough, but the record doesn’t seem to take off until track seven, “I Came Back For the Children,” which isn’t a good sign.

“I Came Back For the Children” has an R&B pulse that the rest of Feast could benefit from. Again I invoke Silk Degrees, as this song is danceable disco/country, as contradictory and offensive as that description might sound to punks. Another standout is “The Long Way,” a midtempo hootenanny.

But these highlights are too few and too late. Come Home and Feast makes for decent background music, but nothing about it if of utmost importance. It’s an easygoing package from start to finish, making it a great record to feel indifferent towards.

Bouncing Souls - '20th Anniversary Series: Volume Three"

The year is almost over, and with it, the Bouncing Souls’ 20th anniversary bonanza. The band played a few birthday gigs, filmed a variety special, and is almost finished debuting a new digital download on the first of every month. 20th Anniversary Series: Volume Three collects three more of those downloads on vinyl (Mine’s on tour-only green with black and red splatter, suckaz) plus another bonus track. The series thus far has been strong, but Volume Three might be the best yet.

Volume One and Two followed a similar formula – two punk rock tunes on the first side, a mid-tempo and a mellow acoustic number on the flipside. Volume Three ditches that idea. “Ghosts on the Boardwalk” opens with some haunting feedback that saturates the whole song. Given that it’s a song about summer and the seven-inch is coming out in September, “Ghosts” takes on an appropriately wistful tone in the vein of Hopeless Romantic’s “Night on Earth.” Its companion on the A side, “Boogie Woogie Downtown,” is the numb twin to Volume One’s “Gasoline.” The song is similarly bitter at the world, but the music’s subdued style is a departure from the band’s raucous material. It’s a logical follow-up to “Ghosts on the Boardwalk,” but man is it a bummer.

“Badass” opens the B side and completely washes away every melancholic thought anyone ever had ever. A fist-pumper akin to a less synth-soaked version of Team America: World Police’s “America, Fuck Yeah,” the song lists things that are badass. This includes Bruce Lee, snakes, vocal solos, and The Pete’s mom. It’s a little out of place compared to the rest of the seven-inch, but it’s a really fun song, so shut up. As for bonus track “Uke Chek Girl,” it’s exactly what Souls fan should expect: Maniacal Laughter’s “Quick Chek Girl” performed on a ukele. But this isn’t exactly “Souls Go Hawaiian!”, although that would be a totally sweet movie. Rather, frontman Greg Attonito gives the song a somber makeover. It’s a chill way to end an already relatively placid record.

While three-quarters of its songs were released over the summer, Volume Three works better as an autumnal record. It’s a little nostalgic, both for company and kung-fu movies. But regardless of the season, it’s still good.

Bionic - 'Black Blood'

It’s been a while since I’ve played the “NOT TRU PUNX!!” card, so gimme a sec to brush mine off.

Oh wow, that’s a lot of blood. And no, that’s not a non-sequitur, Guy Who Thinks I’m Named Jolene and Wonders If I Have Nice Boobs. It’s a segue into Black Blood, the third full-length from alleged Canadian punk act Bionic. I say “alleged” because, like the band’s claims to psychedelia and a Devo-influenced sound, it’s yet to be authenticated. These guys are hereby banned from the Gilman. I’m taking away all of their Dillinger Four records and running a piece in Maximumrockand/orroll about how to disrupt their shows, like an adult. Sure, they can still look at vinyl at Hot Topic, but if they so much as think of an anarchist book store, I will write them a very sternly worded letter.

Remember Blueshammer from Ghost World? Remember how they promised authentic blues music, but really just recycled the same bar band riffs from the last 40 years? That’s Bionic. If I wanted a soundtrack to Steve Buscemi’s tears while I acquire an STD at the local sports bar – assuming the ska band that does that wicked awesome cover of Nine Inch Nails’ “Closer” isn’t working that night – Black Blood would work mighty fine. In fact, there are times when I swear this is a joking attempt to out-D Tenacious D. “Freedom Now, Baby!” in particular stands out as either patronizing or silly.

Granted, guitarist Jonathan Cummins did time in the Doughboys, a yesteryear punk act that I think I’m supposed to care about. But that just brings me back to my “NOT TRU PUNX!!” card. This is crappy bar rock. And as we all know, bars are better off just unironically playing Minor Threat.

Birds of Avalon - 'Uncanny Valley'

Writing spacey, psychedelic jams is a tricky proposition. Get too loose, and one risks formlessness. Making the songs too tight in turn risks rigid formula. For the most part, Birds of Avalon succeed with the style on Uncanny Valley. Bearing passable resemblances to Portugal. The Man, Ghost of the Russian Empire, the Raconteurs, and, of course, the 13th Floor Elevators, the band crafts relatively tight psych-rock tunes.

Of the album’s 11 tracks, six are worthwhile. Though always guitar-driven, the band shows a mastery of all things rocking (“Side Two”), spacious (“I Never Knew”), and grooving (“Your Downtime is Up”). If you’re a fan of all things echo-y and otherworldly, Uncanny Valley is for you. The tracks aren’t too self-indulgent either. A song like “Eyesore” cycles through psychedelic ideas at a faster rate, without getting too ADD-addled on rhythms. The result is that fine line between roomy and tight arrangements I mentioned earlier. While it still doesn’t sound like it, Uncanny Valley holds to some of pop music’s ideals, namely shorter songs. More than half of the tracks are under three minutes long. Only two break the four minute mark.

That sort of discipline could stand to be followed more often, however. The band adds too much ambient noise in certain spots (hereafter known as “pulling a Mars Volta”). It’s OK when they do it on introductory track “Unkaany Valley.” At 22 seconds, it’s just fanfare segueing into the first real song, “Side Two.” But when they try going longer than that, such as on “Last Rites (Funky Side),” it kills the album’s momentum. It essentially makes the closing two tracks after it sound worse than they are, if only because “Last Rites” will kill off interest that easily. Given that the record is only a half-hour total, that’s precious time. Track five, “Dadcage,” further hinders the flow.

Of course, one could argue that Uncanny Valley attempts to showcase several different ideas. While the record is easily classifiable as psych, there are still varying tangents flowing throughout. Which is why the band must have felt OK with following “Spirit Lawyer,” arguably the catchiest and hardest rocking song on the album, with something as completely inverted as “Last Rites.” So cut Birds of Avalon a break; they travel a difficult path.

Boris Smile - 'Beartooth EP'

There’s a fine line to be walked when dealing with the cute ‘n’ kitschy, but Boris Smile treads it well on the Beartooth EP. To be fair, it’s not excessively kitschy; surface glances yield melancholic indie folk. But it’s the topics that central songwriter A. Wesley Chung matches to his orchestral pieces that lend Beartooth extra quality. Sure, “Hour of the Wolf” and “Books of Blank Pages” cover traditional approaches to alienation and relationships, but both become a little more literal on “Program Me to Love,” a tune about robot romance. More importantly, the opening track, “Beartooth (spooky version)” is about the power of bears. And fans of the Lewis and Clark Expedition will tell you, bears are to be feared and respected.

Chung ties these novel ideas to stirring compositions, which is what makes Beartooth so memorable. There’s a long list of performers on the EP who handle horns, synths, strings, and choir vocals, and Chung puts ’em all to work. The result: lush indie pop. It’s got more balls than twee – I cannot overstate how much I love songs about bears – and a little more lyrical variety to boot. And it’s not like Boris Smile is all novelties all the time – there’s real heartfelt sadness on “Hour of the Wolf.” So pick your poison – Loneliness? BEARS?! Boris Smile’s got it covered.

Bouncing Souls at the Trocadero

Aug. 22 and 23 brought Philadelphia two shows celebrating punk pioneers the Bouncing Souls’ 20th anniversary. While they’ve always been a New Jersey band through and through, the band has plenty of history in nearby Philly, not to mention the Trocadero, which hosted the concerts. Saturday saw support from 7 Seconds and None More Black, while Sunday, which I attended, brought in Lifetime and former Avail frontman Tim Barry. From all accounts, it didn’t matter which you hit up; you were still in for a good time.

Both shows sold out, and rightly so. As I’ve written here before, the Souls are one of the most important punk bands of everything everywhere ever (Ever!). They’ve been making people dance since I was three years old. They’ve hit a point in their careers where it doesn’t even matter what they play, only that they do play. Surrounded by friends and fans (members of Paint It Black, Loved Ones, and who knows who else were in attendance), Philly made the perfect setting for the group’s birthday bash Sunday night.

Unfortunately, things didn’t start off too smoothly. The show began with a screening of the Bouncing Souls 20th Anniversary Special, a retro variety program featuring performance footage, ventriloquism and the Boogietron 5000. It was chock full of the band’s weird sense of humor, though watching the film proved a little difficult given all the noise from the balcony bar. The same issue applied to acoustic opener Tim Barry. He didn’t seem to care, though, as he soon unplugged his guitar and leapt into the crowd for a rendition of “Idle Idlyst” among his faithful. The crowd dug performances of “Ronnie Song” and “Dog Bumped.” He also took the time to berate his home of Richmond, Va.’s for building portions of I-95 over slave cemeteries, which was informatively infuriating.

After Barry, sound problems were nonexistent. Rather, Lifetime brought a new challenge: guitar straps. See, guitarist Dr. Dan Yemin has a thing for rocking out, and his strap came undone quite a few times during the band’s succulent set. They started with “Daneurysm” and closed with “Ostrichsized,” filling the in-between with a good mix of songs from Hello Bastards, Jersey’s Best Dancers, and Lifetime. Oh, and broken straps. Frontman Ari Katz teased Yemin a bit about his technical difficulties, but when a fan threw in some extra grief about buying a strap lock, Yeems let out some of his trademark sarcastic bile:

“Strap locks are for Iron Maiden,” he said. “…Punks use duct tape.” And true to his word, he did. It’s not like the strap-capades negatively affected Lifetime’s set that much anyway. Songs like “The Boy’s No Good,” “Rodeo Clown,” “Northbound Breakdown,” and “Airport Monday Morning” were still awesome.

But as good as Lifetime was, there was an even better group waiting to cap off the night. Emerging to Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band’s “Born to Run,” the Bouncing Souls plugged in and proceeded to deliver the perfect 90 minute set. Granted, I say that as a super fan. Dudes were the first punk band I really fell in love with, the source of my high school year book quote (“I’m on the outside looking in / That’s where my story beings / Took the pain of growing up / And I will walk on through / This is how I’m showing up / I feel great / How ’bout you.” Thanks of asking!!), and just generally a source of joy and inspiration in a genre that tends to eat its own. But that’s a tangent. I’m sorry. Let it go and focus on how good Sunday’s set list was, OK?

If you were a fan of the Souls’ older material, this would’ve been a good show for you. 1994’s The Good, The Bad, and The Argyle got a lot of love via “I Like Your Mom,” “These are the Quotes from Our Favorite ’80s Movies” (complete with an Outsiders “We’ll do it for Johnny!” reference from a fan), “Joe Lies (When He Cries),” and “Neurotic.” Yeah, that happened. 1996’s Maniacal Laughter made some appearances in the set, with “The Freaks, Nerds, & Romantics,” “The BMX Song,” “Quick Check Girl,” “Here We Go,” and a jammed out “Moon Over Asbury.” “Moon” segued nicely into a cover of the Misfits' "Hybrid Moments." The Bouncing Souls weighed in with “Cracked,” “East Coast Fuck You!”, “Say Anything,” and a particularly awesome “Kate is Great.” Sadly, my cries for “Shark Attack” went unanswered.

Some newer material did show up as well. “Lean on Sheena” was the lone track from The Gold Record, while Hopeless Romantic’s title track did the same. Anchors Aweigh scored “Sing Along Forever,” the title track, and a fan-requested “Apartment 5F.” How I Spent My Summer Vacation’s “Private Radio,” “That Song,” and “The Something Special” rocked the set list, along with set opener “True Believers” and encore-ender “Gone.” Oddly enough, outside of “I Think That the World,” nothing from the band’s 20th anniversary single series showed up.

That’s a lot of songs – 25 by my count, and I’m working from memory. But in the moment, it barely felt like a half-hour, let alone 90 minutes or so. Which is perhaps the biggest compliment I could give the Souls – dudes played a lengthy set that was so much fun, I completely lost track of time. I was too busy watching frontman Greg Attonito shake around in his suit while bassist Brian Keilen and guitarist Pete Steinkopf tore at their instruments. Drummer Michael McDermott seemed to lead the charge in tweaking the band’s back catalog, switching up fills and extending songs, most memorably during “Moon Over Asbury.” The result was a fine blend of something old and something new which eradicated all sense of time (and temperature. It was pretty dang humid in the Troc).

Despite logging 20 years in punk rock, the Bouncing Souls show felt more like the beginning of a new chapter than the conclusion of an old one. The band sold advance copies of 20th Anniversary Series Volume Three, their newest seven-inch [SPOILER ALERT: IT’S GOOD]. They hinted at holiday shows and plans to learn new covers. Representatives from the Syrentha Savio Endowment passed out literature about cancer prevention and sold very cool “fuck cancer” shirts. So while it’s incredible to look back on those 20 years of music – yes, even the Greenball Crew EP – I can’t help but look forward to what comes next.