Thorns of Life (ex-Jawbreaker)

So, as you may or may not know by now, Blake Schwarzenbach, of Jawbreaker and/or Jets to Brazil fame, has a new band called Thorns of Life. He's been pretty coy about the whole thing, but video has started popping up on the ol' YouTubes. The quality is kinda crappy, but it's a taste of (hopefully) shway better things to come:

Jimmy Eat World to play 'Clarity' in its entirety

Jimmy Eat World will be playing Clarity in its entirety at The Trocadero Feb. 25, 2008. Tickets go on sale this Sat., Nov. 15 @ 10 a.m. $32.50 per. And really, that's all you need to know.

The Mountain Goats & Kaki King live at the TLA

The Mountain Goats and Kaki King played delightfully lengthy sets at Philadelphia’s Theater of the Living Arts Friday, Nov. 7, one of the last stops on the bands’ aptly titled “The Last Happy Night of Your Life Tour.” Now, head goater John Darnielle is the sort of performer who can pretty much play anything and blow away a crowd; he’s a Bruce Springsteen, a Tom Waits, a Tori Amos. And with bassist Peter Hughes and drummer Jon Wurster, the guy had some serious rock muscle behind him. But in order to fully appreciate his electrifying performance that night, you need to have been to at least two more Mountain Goats shows: March 20, 2008 at Philly’s First Unitarian Church – the last time the Goats played the city – and any other set ever.

The Church show was, to keep it simple and direct, pretty fucking shitty. The band was sloppy, and Darnielle was ever so slightly ticked off at the crowd’s abuse of flashbulb photo-taking. After about 35 minutes, The Mountain Goats left the stage, citing vague personal issues. Basically, Darnielle had one heck of an off night.

But here’s the thing: The Mountain Goats are actually one of the best live bands touring today. You think I pass out Springsteen comparisons lightly? Darnielle is like the idealized version of your crazy Catholic uncle: Slightly tipsy, affable, a goofy dancer, and a lover of fine music. He speaks to audiences like he’s like they’re old friends having drinks. In short, he is a cool dude.

So that’s the set-up, the New Hope-ian joy and the Empire Strikes Back-ish fall. Now here’s the actual plot outline: Darnielle knew he let down a lot of folks last time he was in town, and he apologized for the March show several times during his set. To that end, he and his band needed to make absolutely sure every face was thoroughly rocked, every booty adequately shaken.

But first, Kaki King had to play. Good thing she rules too.

Hailing from the fine state of Georgia, King has been hailed by many guitar magazines for her dexterous, percussive guitar playing. Building off her unique acoustic style, she’s developed more and more as a songwriter with each album. Her latest, this year’s Dreaming of Revenge, is arguably her catchiest. It dominated the first half or so of her set, starting with opening number “Bone Chaos in the Castle.” One by one, members of her backing band came out to join her as she laid down a fret-tapping frenzy. The tune accidently slid into a slow rut when drummer Matt Hankle started playing, but to be fair, he had just broken his ankle days before. Drumming is never easy when you’re down a limb. Other than this hiccup, though, Hankle seemed to lock in with the band rather well.

King’s 75 minutes onstage felt a bit long by their end, but the set still satisfied most in the room. The show had an ebb-and-flow to it, starting off with the jammy ambience of “Bone Chaos” and peaking with the bitter break-up song “Pull Me Out” before bottoming out with “Kewpie Station,” from her solo debut, Everybody Loves You. The second half delved into the spacier arrangements of …Until We Felt Red, with the highlight being an epic performance of “You Don’t Have to Be Afraid.” King served up atmospheric tunes that split the difference between shoegaze and jam bands, and the crowd, who surprisingly smelled of patchouli ‘n pot, dug it.

Emerging to The Four Seasons’ “December 1963 (Oh What a Night),” The Mountain Goats kicked ass from start to finish. Opening with the quiet “Have to Explode,” it was clear right away that Darnielle was in a much better place. “Heretic Pride” followed, and the collective joy from the crowd when Wurster hit the beat was astounding. Darnielle’s been making music for years now, but the majority of the concertgoers seemed to be too young to remember his lo-fi days firsthand. Predictably, the Heretic Pride material went over very well (It’s a great album, ya jerk). “Michael Myers Resplendent,” “New Zion,” and “Sept 15, 1983” all went over swimmingly. Most of the set focused on TMG’s hi-fi 4 A.D. output – “Moon Over Goldsboro” from Get Lonely showed up, as did “Pigs That Ran Straightaway into the Water, Triumph Of” and “Palmcorder Yajna,” from We Shall All Be Healed, during the first encore. “This Year,” perhaps Darnielle’s most universally loved song, closed out the regular set. Wurster really amped up the performance here, replacing the Sunset Tree song’s rim clicks with snare hits. “I am going to make it through this year / If it kills me” goes the chorus, and it will always sound life-affirming. Darnielle stated before the song that he was playing it for himself, and it’s a testament to his songwriting prowess that his form of self-indulgence involves playing his best songs.

There was a smattering of rarities spread throughout the set as well – “Sinaloon Milk Snake Song” from Zopilote Machine was a personal favorite, as were “The Mess Inside” and “Source Decay” from the seminal work All Hail West Texas. There were more surprises that Darnielle asked us not to share, so I’ll just say that we also scored an obscure B-side and an impromptu classic rock cover.

[The above is from a different show, but how cute are those faces?]

“The Last Happy Night of Your Life Tour” coincided with the release of Black Pear Tree, a tour-only vinyl split between Kaki King and The Mountain Goats. King joined TMG halfway through their set to perform some of those songs, including “Bring Our Curses Home,” “Mosquito Repellent,” the title track, and a searingly psychedelic version of “Supergenesis” that needs to be experienced live by every living being in the cosmos. They also covered Morrissey’s “Suedehead,” which was thrilling, but “Supergenesis” is what stays with me. King conjured up layer after layer of dissonance, My Bloody Valentine-style, over Darnielle’s first person narrative about the fall of the serpent from the book of Genesis. Epic? Yes. Metal? Kinda, yeah. The EP itself is a mellow, gorgeous experience, but its folk structures were far more rock-ish that night.

Darnielle was liberated from his guitar for The Mountain Goats’ second encore, a cover of “Houseguest” by Franklin Bruno. This was a good thing, because I learned an important, satori-like truth: John Darnielle is a delirious dancer. He cavorted around the stage, sensually grabbing fans by the hair and promising them that he was unquestionably the best houseguest they’d ever had. And gosh dang was he right.

[Check out the Internet Archive for some great Mountain Goats bootlegs, including shows from this tour. It's Jelone-tested, Darnielle-approved.]

2001 - a punk odyssey

For those of us didn’t pirate all music ever made from, with, and through the Internets, compilations (“comps” to you, bub) were a great way to find fresh, exciting bands. Comps were what weened me off of the radio and taught me about this hip thing called “underground music.” It sounds kind of rudimentary now, but when you’re 14, 15 years old, being able to find 10 or more new bands to love at the same time is a big deal. Almost half of the albums on this list were purchased because I liked what I heard on a comp. A good comp, like a playlist, should have a couple bands you know – I bought You’ll Never Eat Fast Food Again because I loved New Found Glory, and ended up hearing Rx Bandits, Allister, Midtown, and The Wrens. If it offers rarities from your favorite bands, even better. I bought Give ‘Em the Boot III for the Rancid bonus tracks, and fell in love with the Joe Strummer and Leftover Crack cuts as well. I think the single most important comp I ever bought, though, was Punk-o-Rama 6. Here’s the track listing:

· "Can I Borrow Some Ambition?" – Guttermouth – 2:20

· "Come With Me" – Deviates – 2:57

· "Bath of Least Resistance" – NOFX – 1:48

· "Blackeye" – Millencolin – 2:16

· "Jack of All Trades" – Hot Water Music – 2:42

· "True Believers" – The Bouncing Souls – 2:30

· "We're Desperate" – Pennywise with Exene Cervenka – 1:47

· "Strangled" – Osker – 2:58

· "It's Quite Alright" – Rancid – 1:29

· "Holding 60 Dollars on a Burning Bridge" – Death by Stereo – 2:11

· "The Gauntlet" – Dropkick Murphys – 2:47

· "Original Me" – Descendents – 2:50

· "Runaway" – Pulley – 2:51

· "She Broke My Dick" – ALL – 0:43

· "Different But the Same" – Raised Fist – 2:35

· "Pure Trauma" – downset. – 2:33

· "Let Me In" – Beatsteaks – 3:28

· "Innocence" – Union 13 – 2:25

· "I Want to Conquer the World" – Bad Religion – 2:17

· "Only Lovers Left Alive" – The (International) Noise Conspiracy – 2:41

· "Say Goodnight" – Voodoo Glow Skulls – 3:02

· "Tonight I'm Burning" – Bombshell Rocks – 2:54

· "Takers & Users" – The Business – 2:21

For the record, I didn’t know any of these bands prior to buying Punk-o-Rama 6. I was vaguely familiar with Bad Religion (I knew “American Jesus,” basically) and Rancid, but I didn’t know anything substantial about them. I bought this album at a now defunct record store on the boardwalk in Ocean City, New Jersey entirely because my friend Andrew Chiarello, whom I still consider the king of cool, got it. I think the store was called like Palm Tree Records or something.

So, this album was akin to traveling to the moon and meeting Moon People™. It just completely rocked my brain, radically shifting it slightly back and to the left. I hate to use another drug comparison, but this shit permanently changed me, like LSD. Which means 20 years from now I’m going to crack my back and release some more Punk-o-rama stored in my fat tissue, which will undoubtedly make me insane and thus cause me to take a hatchet to my wife, children, family dog, neighbors, and unrelated passersby. And it’s all thanks to Epitaph Records!

In all seriousness, though, anything that introduces you to The Bouncing Fucking Souls is worthwhile, even if it’s The Greenball Crew EP.

10. Ben Folds – Rockin’ the Suburbs

God damn Ben Folds was so good for so long. His first solo album, Rockin’ the Suburbs, is almost something of a lost classic. Almost. I say that because it honestly never dawned on me that some people didn’t like it until I got to college. My high school chums and I were all about “Zak and Sara” and “Still Fightin’ It” and “Not the Same,” which is still one of Folds’ best live songs. But once I got to "the city," I found a multitude of people who only knew Rockin’ the Suburbs for its title track, and consequently decided that it must be the worst album ever.

Now, I actually do like that single. It’s cute and funny and ranty from a time when Folds could bitch without sounding like an old codger (Way to Normal sucks! Forever!). But I get why people don’t like it. It’s a little more produced than the Ben Folds Five material, sounding a bit ProToolsy. It doesn’t sound live at all, but that’s because it isn’t – Folds played almost all of the instruments himself, save for some guitar and programming bits. And let’s be honest, it’s not as catchy as anything on Whatever and Ever Amen.

But, being the little puissant missionary that I am, I insisted naysayers checked it out anyhoozle. I taped a Y100 Sonic Session Folds did around the time – I need to find my tape BTW – and I would often play it for those with doubts. Stripped of their studio sheen, songs like “Still Fightin’ It” and “Zak and Sara” are still catchy character studies. There’s really not a whole lot to keep a BF5 fan from loving Rockin’ the Suburbs. It’s jazzy in spots (“Fired”), sentimental and somber in others (“The Luckiest”), and it’s damn fine all over.

9. Brand New – Your Favorite Weapon

Man, remember when Brand New was a pop punk band that only talked about Morrissey? Those were good days. Frontman Jesse Lacey is one of the best lyricists in the emo game, if not one of the most frustrating (have you ever really listened to the words to Deja Entendu?). He brought his A game to Brand New’s debut, though, serving up several songs that still rank as the group’s best, based on everyone I’ve ever spoken with on the topic (it’s very scientific and involves science, simultaneously). Obviously, there’s single “Jude Law and a Semester Abroad,” a bitter beauty about a couple breaking up long distance, or, every couple I knew freshman year of college circa October. The song reveals the depths Lacey’s scorn can plumb (please turn to the part about being disappointed at his ex-girlfriend for surviving a plane crash instead of drowning in the ocean). Then there’s “Mix Tape,” another kiss-off that I put on at least two mix tapes. I could totally get behind the bit about shitty friends who hate The Smiths. And of course “Soco Amaretto Lime,” the closing song about growing up but feeling young and in love. And hey, remember that weird Brand New/Taking Back Sunday feud? That was something, eh? “Seventy Times 7” started that whole dang argument. It’s funny, Lacey can be pretty spiteful as a lyricist, but his truly condemning moment was when he made “Seventy Times 7” one of the catchiest songs of 2001. “Is this what you call tact / you’re as subtle as a brick in the small of my back.”

8. Rx Bandits – Progress

You’ll Never Eat Fast Food Again turned me on the Bandits’ second album, 1999’s Halfway Between Here and There. While that record was a catchy ska-punk batch in the vein of what Drive Thru Records was doing at the time (bands good enough to open for Less Than Jake?), Progress was miles ahead in every way. Better production, better style, and just plain better songwriting. The Bandits used to be a fairly un-serious bunch; early songs included such titles as “High Skool” and “I Don’t Care,” an ode to soccer girls. Magically, frontman Matt Embree metamorphosed into a bold, socio-political figure that also happened to write kind of complicated songs. Thus was Progress born.

Now, Progress is still a ska-punk album, but it outclasses just about every non-Less Than Jake ska-punk album out there. You’d think Embree was Sting the way he decries corporatization, oppression, and the mass imbalance of wealth in the world on opening track “VCG3” (or, you know, throughout the album…). Even the old relationship songs have a newfound seriousness to them – “Anyone But You” is one of the most mature break-up songs I’ve ever heard. Sadly, the band got even more technical after this album, disappearing in a cloud of pot smoke to create prog-ska. But I’ll always have Progress, a stunning ska/punk/rock/reggae record that blends elements of Bob Marley, Bob Dylan, The Specials, Megadeth, and Minor Threat into a palatable blend.

7. Incubus – Morning View

I once called Incubus my generation’s lowest common denominator and I stand by that statement. I feel that, for those of us of a certain age, Incubus was just kind of "there" in middle school and high school (and for some, even college). A lot of people were split on Limp Bizkit and Red Hot Chili Peppers in the ’90s, but just about all of my friends were OK with Incubus’ albums S.C.I.E.N.C.E. and Make Yourself. The more marijuana-lovin’ of the bunch swore by Fungus Among Us. I tend to gravitate towards Morning View, a record that seems to have a little bit of everything Incubus ever did before or after 2001. That’s right, when the band comes off of hiatus and makes a comeback album, it will sound slightly like Morning View.

Morning View bears the slightest whisper of Fungus Among Us’ funk metal, which is for the best. It’s got some meaty riffs a la S.C.I.E.N.C.E. without sounding like a blatant nü-metal cash grab a la Make Yourself. The record has a softer edge to it – it’s a great beach record, per the album cover’s suggestion. It rocks, but it carries a hint of ambience. Like Rx Bandits above, though, Incubus stopped bathing or writing catchy songs after 2001. Morning View is a chill album, but still much more invigorating than follow-up A Crow Left of the Murder. It’s a good overall rock record.

6. lostprophets – The Fake Sound of Progress

I try not to put down any specific genre too much; sooner or later I’ll hear a band that fits the style’s description that doesn’t suck. So while there were plenty of shitty rap-rock bands in the ’90s, at least one good album came out of the mix: lostprophets’ The Fake Sound of Progress. These Welsh lads had been tooling around with rap and metal hybrids for a few years before they dropped this, their first full-length, which is prolly for the best. Circa ’97, lostprophets sounded like another gang of Caucasian mooks trying to rip off black culture. Circa ’01, dudes stopped trying to rap and focused more on the metal half of their sound, retaining hip-hop’s use of sampling and scratching. Granted, these nü-metal trimmings date the album a bit, but The Fake Sound of Progress still shines as a solid pop metal album with a slight screamo bent. It’s melodic yet crunchy yet groovin’. And “A Thousand Apologies” is still a great hard rocker.

5. Joe Strummer and The Mescaleros – Global A Go-Go

Sooner or later, every artist spends some time “in the wilderness.” He and/or she loses his and/or her artistic perspective and struggles to create more, ya know… art. Depending on who you ask, Joe Strummer either spent one year in the wilderness – the time it took to make the shitty final Clash album Cut the Crap and the actually pretty good Sid and Nancy soundtrack, say I – or 16 – from the time Joe kicked Mick Jones out of The Clash until the release of Rock Art and the X-Ray Style, his first album with The Mescaleros. Either way, we are contractually obligated by good taste to agree that Joe’s late period work was ridiculously awesome.

After he lost Jones as a songwriting partner, Strummer struggled to find a musical balance. He was arguably one of the best lyricists of all time, but Strummer’s greatest strength – his rambling, playful, internal rhymes – became he biggest flaw when he lost Mick’s pop sensibility. The Mescaleros, however, brought a jam band vibe that matched Joe’s style perfectly. The Clash explored punk, rockabilly, reggae, and ska pretty well, but Joe really started to show how deep and convergent his world music roots went with Global A Go-Go.

The first Mescaleros track I ever heard was “Global A Go-Go,” and it blew me away. I knew The Clash for their didactic early work – “Tommy Gun,” “London Calling,” “White Riot.” I hadn’t heard Sandinista!, or even London Calling at that point, so to skip that far ahead was a truly expansive experience for me. The record is flush with lush arrangements, with chants and guitars and chimes and keyboards and flutes and the rawest-sounding violin I have ever heard. More than anyone else, Strummer spoke about the unitive power of music, of its ability to draw everyone in. That’s why he celebrated the raver movement in the ’90s; it was about fun. Too many bands and scenes get caught up in their own insularity. Strummer wrote music to celebrate all the people of the world.

“So anyway, I told him I was in this band, he said oh yeah! / Oh yeah? What's your music like? I said, it's errm... / Errm, well, it's kinda like...you know… / It's got a bit of ...um y'know... / Ragga, Bhangra, two-step Tanga, / Mini-cab radio, music on the go! / Urrm, surfbeat, backbeat, frontbeat, backseat, / There's a bunch of players and they're really letting go! / We got Brit Pop, Hip-Hop, Rockabilly, Lindy Hop, / Gaelic Heavy Metal fans, fighting in the road... / Aww sunday boozers for chewing gum users, / They got a crazy D.J. and she's really letting go! / Oh welcome stranger...to the humble...neighborhoods.” - "Bhindi Bhagee."

4. Jimmy Eat World – Bleed American

After creating the most atmospheric indie pop album of their career with Clarity, Jimmy Eat World ended up getting dropped from Capital Records. It was a great last stand, but career-wise, the band needed to prove they could write catchy radio-ready rockers. And they did just that, on their own dime, with Bleed American. The title got dropped for a while post-9/11, but the change didn’t kill the band’s momentum. The group earned some radio airplay from “Bleed American,” a surprisingly crazed stomper from the guys who wrote songs like “12.23.95” and “Goodbye Sky Harbor.” It was the release of follow-up single “The Middle,” though, that catapulted the band into superstardom. I’m not statistician, but I’m going to say every person on this planet has heard “The Middle” a minimum of 100,000 times. The song is easily one of the most overplayed rock songs of the new millennium. But when I listened to Bleed American for the first time in years last month, I was struck by the song’s genuine, gentle assurance and good will towards all for the first time in, again, years. All it took was a little break to remind me why I love Jim Adkins’ songs. Dude crafts this sweet little confections about feeling awkward and finding your place.

Oh, and the other singles for Bleed American? Freaking “Sweetness” and “A Praise Chorus.” These babies rip the handle off of my adrenalin pump. When Adkins asks that, in the event I am listening, I consider pursuing the proper course of action that would allow me to “sing it back,” he gives me chills. “Stumble ‘til you crawl.” Give it your all, go at full force on the first effort, feel it.

3. Strike Anywhere – Change is a Sound

As I stumbled around the Tweeter Center parking lot after the 2002 Warped Tour, delirious from sunburn and kicks to the face, I ran into a fellow selling four comps for $10, which is exactly how much money I had left in my wallet. Anyone who’s been to Warped knows it isn’t just a concert; it’s a got-damn flea market. My cargo shorts were already stuffed with shirts and CDs, but seeing that this stranger was selling Stop Racism discs took from me what Drive-Thru pop-punk act Homegrown could not: My last 10 bucks.

This was a good life decision, a great one. For hidden on one of those Stop Racism comps was “Sunset on 32^nd Street,” by the Virginian hardcore/punk act Strike Anywhere. Clocking in at 4:19, the song provides a surprisingly balanced discussion about police brutality. Frontman Thomas Barnett beautifully describes the ugliness of a forced entry, summing up all the unresolved hatred I’ve held towards police officers (though my anger has always been more of a result of discrimination than abuse). And while hating the police isn’t new, Barnett takes the time to remind listeners that not all cops are bad (“I wish the good cops if they exist / the very best!”).

When I obtained Change is a Sound, I was thrilled to learn the album was filled with passionate debates like “Sunset.” Melodic and charged and pounding and alive, Change is a Sound taught me the importance of seeing both sides of an issue, of avoiding stereotyping, and remembering that in order to make a democracy thrive, we all have to find a compromise. “Stand up! Speak out!”

2. Tool – Lateralus

Reminder of how young I once was: When Lateralus came out, I was excited because it was an angry, yet profanity free, record, thereby allowing me to listen to it loud without fear of parental retaliation. Now I wear shirts with couples puking on each other and words like “motherfucking” on them. I truly am a grown-up!

Lateralus had a ridiculously long gestation period due to a legal battle with Tool’s old label, Volcano Records, which was further lengthened by frontman Maynard James Keenan’s time with a new band, A Perfect Circle. The wait was worth it, though, since it gave the band the time to develop their best album. Lateralus is a prog-metal masterpiece, brimming with emotion, technical virtuosity, literary references (The Scarlet Letter), and odes to the Fibonacci Sequence. While I ultimately skewed towards more of a punk spectrum, Tool offered me a more intricate emotional outlet. Combined with Rage Against the Machine and Deftones, Tool formed a holy trinity of modern metal for me.

1. The Bouncing Souls – How I Spent My Summer Vacation

I watched the Bouncing Souls documentary Do You Remember? for the umpteenth time last night, and my only complaint is that the thing just isn’t long enough. Like good ol’ St. Joe Strummer above, the Souls have always made me feel like I was part of something bigger than a subculture. They make me feel human. And How I Spent My Summer Vacation was my first step towards feeling that.

I bought the album not long after hearing “True Believers” on Punk-o-Rama 6, and I was hooked. I made it a mission to get every Souls album. Each one is truly a treasure, but there’s something about Summer Vacation that always stays with me. Part of it is because, well, you always remember your first. That adrenalin rush I get from “those New Jersey mooks” started here.

But I’m not the only one went through some self-discovery circa Summer Vacation. The band members themselves went through a long journey to make the record after the departure of original drummer Shal Khichi. New guy Michael McDermott brought the group a newfound professionalism, emphasizing tighter playing and steadier practice schedules. The result: A finely honed pop-punk record with a dash of oi-style stompin’ and ’77 pogo-rompin’. How I Spent My Summer Vacation converts alienation and depression into a fuel source for determination. The album’s closing track, “Gone,” explains it all: “It was a darkness all my own / a song played on the radio / but it went straight to my heart / I carried it with me / until the darkness was gone... / I built this cloud I can break it / The world can’t change how I feel / Because I know it’s a lie / My heart is real.” This song actually got played when I went on a religious retreat called Kairos senior year of high school. I’m not supposed to discuss the specifics of Kairos, but I will say that the kid who played it used the song to explain his deep Catholic guilt and suicidal delusions, and the conversation really helped shake me out of my own malaise. We’re all a little fucked up, but we can help fill in each others gaps.

NEXT WEEK: I’ll work mornings and you can work through the night, I drop the needle and pray, I am wasted but I’m ready, 2002.

X live at the TLA

I want to be John Doe. As a drummer, I’d like to have the skills of D.J. Bonebrake, the classically trained percussionist of legendary California punk act X, but it’s vocalist/bassist Doe that has the most swagger and charm. He plucks away at his bass maniacally on stage; he’s smooth on the mic and he’s aged pretty well. A poet who continues to write and record to this day (his latest solo effort, A Year in the Wilderness, was released last year), he also owns a shirt that reads, simply, "John Fuckin’ Doe."

The band behind classic albums like Los Angeles and Wild Gift is currently on its "13 X 31" tour, honoring the group’s 31st anniversary. A May 22 performance at the TLA with fellow punk/rockabilly enthusiasts The Detroit Cobras confirmed that this odd-numbered celebration wasn’t unjustified — 21 years after its formation, X is still a top live act.

The Detroit Cobras were a perfect complement to X, and the crowd certainly agreed. While there wasn’t too much dancing in the TLA — minus a smattering of enthusiastically ungainly adults — there was plenty of hooting and hollering after every Cobras song. Frontwoman Rachel Nagy’s voice is a good selling point — soulful but ever-so-slightly cracked. The band’s sunny, boozy 50-minute cover set included fine cuts from the rock canon, something the slightly older crowd appreciated.

It’s cool to see the punk lifers in X. Frontwoman Exene Cervenka still rocks a black granny dress. Like Doe, she’s still artistically active, with a slew of art collages ranging from postcard collections to a NYC gallery show, running through July 18, entitled "Sleep in Spite of Thunder." Billy Zoom looks almost exactly as he did in ‘ 77 — lightly older, of course, but he’s still got the slicked-back blonde coif, the leather jacket and the wolfish grin. As for Bonebrake … he’s bald now, but he dominates the kit fiercely and pounds cans of Guinness awfully well.

An incredibly full rendition of "Your Phone’s Off the Hook, But You’re Not," the first song off X’s debut, marked the beginning of the band’s set, which ended up leaning toward the group’s first two efforts, though a few mid-period tunes like "The New World," "Devil Doll" and "We’re Having Much More Fun" from worked their way in. Tunes like "Adult Books," "We’re Desperate" and "The Hungry Wolf" sound superior live. It was the Los Angeles material, though, that got the biggest response — the band pretty much played that album in its entirety.

X often posed for photos while performing. Doe engaged the crowd in conversations about voting, drinking and urban decay. Bonebrake, when he could get away from his kit, was quick with handshakes. Zoom made it a point to have every woman in the room touch his guitar. The instrument’s phallic nature has never been so clear, nor so traumatizing, to me. After playing for an hour, X returned for two encores, busting out a few more favorites before bowing out. Doe and Cervenka trimmed down vocal parts here and there to save energy, but that didn’t bother the crowd.

It’s funny — in 1983, X released "I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts," a song about being the last active punk act in the U.S. The Ramones and The Clash disbanded long ago; even X’s ’80s hardcore peers have burned out. But in 2008, X is still touring, enticing crowds to "bring the flag."

Smoke or Fire/Fake Problems live at Siren Records

[Here's some old shite - two concert reviews for City Paper.]

Love means never having to say you’re sorry for dragging your significant other to a punk rock show on Valentine’s Day.

Smoke or Fire and Fake Problems, with support from The Menzingers, The Steinways and Stay Sharp, played Siren Records in Doylestown, Pa. Thu., Feb. 14 for a crowd of dudes and dudettes in love and/or lust. Despite some hiccups here and there, the show was a zesty concoction of varying degrees of punk.

Stay Sharp opened the show with a quick set of Kid Dynamite-influenced punk/hardcore, serving up quick jams without too much preachiness. The Menzingers followed with a strong set of punk jams somewhere between Against Me! and Anti-Flag, with slight reggae and post-punk touches sprinkled on every so often. These guys love gang vocals, with co-vocalists (and guitarists) Tom May and Greg Barnett shouting just about every line together. Menzingers know how to write anthems too, just like their idols The Clash, whom they covered that night with a rendition of “Straight to Hell.” Here is a band to watch in 2008.

A band to avoid in 2008 is pop punk act The Steinways. While the act’s watered down Ramones/Queers style wasn’t necessarily bad — it was even cute and catchy at times – it became tiresome after the group refused to leave the stage several songs after its set was supposed to end. Other people have to play, assholes, and the audience didn’t pay just to see you.

In a way, though, it doesn’t matter how long The Steinways overplayed, thanks to Fake Problems. Easily the most energetic and entertaining band of the night, Fake Problems tore through tunes like “Adam’s Song,” “Crest on the Chest” and set opener “Maestro of This Rebellion” with abandon, instruments flying everywhere and smiles broad and ready. But for all the chaos on stage, the tunes were nearly note perfect, a solid balance between showmanship and virtuosity. While a blown amp awkwardly ended the band’s set early by a song, Fake Problems’ CCR-sped-up-a-few-RPMs style was a life-affirming moment.

Not that headliners Smoke or Fire were a poor finale. The band’s straightforward punk rock was all grit and throaty yells. Although the group couldn’t physically match Fake Problems’s energy, it certainly got by on the strength of frontman Joe McMahon’s songwriting. Smoke or Fire’s all too-brief set (thanks Steinways!) focused mostly on last year’s This Sinking Ship, but the band slipped in some older material in the form of “Point Break” and set ender “California’s Burning.” Also worth noting was touring bassist Gwomper, of Avail fame, who brought some lightheartedness to the set.

The crowd was a good one, never getting so violent as to spoil anyone’s fun, up until “California’s Burning,” when Siren reverberated with fans’ voices. The connection between McMahon and the crowd was evident on just about every chorus, and it’s a testament to his band’s skills that they bond on such a level. Overall, it was a good Valentine’s Day for the anti-corporate, three-chord-loving set.

Jawbox - 'Jawbox'

[I know I talked about how much I liked Jawbox's self-titled album for my top 10 project, but punknews.org was lacking a review of it, which I opted to rectify.]

Can we come together as a nation and say, “Hey Mr. President! Jawbox ruled! On an unrelated note, no blood for oil!”? For those not down with the D.C. sound, Jawbox was a post-hardcore band from the early ’90s. Helmed by former Government Issue bassist J. Robbins, who’s unfortunately been in a lot of news articles lately in connection to his son’s health issues, the group turned out four might fine studio albums (and a great odds-n-ends collection) before going bust. “Selling out” has always been a major talking point in the punk community; it’s like our version of the abortion issue or something. It is in this sense that Jawbox is something of an anomaly: A Dischord-oriented band that not only got away with signing to a major label, but got better after doing so. A lot of folks like to talk up the band’s third album, For Your Own Special Sweetheart (das Org even gives it a perfect score), but the band’s best, in my humble opinion, didn’t come into view until 1996’s Jawbox.

Jawbox broke up not long after releasing their self-titled album, but at least they went out on a kickass note. While the group’s Dischord years were all about grinding nonstop, Jawbox found the group experimenting with tempos more. The album has an ebb and flow sequencing to it, starting off powerfully with “Mirrorful” and “Livid.” Then the vibe mellows out for the slow groove of “Iodine” before bursting into the manic intensity of “His Only Trade.” “Trade” is one of my favorite Jawbox songs ever, thanks to the frenetic drum part and overlapping vocals – the song is so fast J. Robbins can’t sing all the words by himself. The off-time “Chinese Fork Tie” pounds out its own special place in my heart too, as do the crazy club-stompers “Won’t Come Off” and “Empire of One.” The record also boasts a great hidden track, a cover of Tori Amos’ “Cornflake Girl,” further confirming Amos’ place in rock music.

Robbins was always a little more interested in musical professionalism, and that’s why his production has always been a little bit cleaner. While I tend to favor lo-fi, a Robbins production has always sat well with me – the guy knows what he’s doing. Same goes for his songwriting. So while some may criticize Jawbox for being the cleanest sounding Jawbox album, in my mind that’s not really much of a weakness. Robbins never overproduces his records, and he certainly doesn’t do so here with co-producer John Angello. The record may not have a Steve Albini-like rawness, but listeners do get all of the instruments presented with a powerful clarity.

Listening to Jawbox 12 years after its release, it’s bizarre to think that the band was dropped from Atlantic Records for a “perceived lack of singles.” The longest song is still under 4:30 in length. In my mind, the label really should have pushed to get Jawbox on the radio and them MTVs, because they were sitting on an album loaded with catchy, muscular rock gems.