Rettsounds - Blame it on the Colitis!

If I had to make one of those Best-Records-of-the-Year-So-Far-Because-I-Can’t-Think-of-Anything-Else-to-Write-About type lists that all those proper alt rock writer guys do, I’d definitely chuck the new seven inch by Philadelphia’s Watery Love in there. We waited a long time for a follow-up to their debut 45 from 2009, and now that we have it we should really stroke our dicks and rub our vas in appreciation. The A side—Die With Dignity—sounds like Sab Grey bellowing over a Falling Spikes bootleg while lyrically echoing the intentions of One Life Crew’s "Pure Disgust," Carnivore’s "USA for USA," and maybe—and I might be going out on a limb here—Point Blanks’ "We Don’t Owe You Shit." The B side takes Lou Reed’s "Leave Me Alone" and drags it face-first through the mud to a poker shed in the woods for a good time.

And while I’m at it, I’d throw this new 45 by NoCal’s Hank IV in on that fake list as well. The A side is a chrome-plated cover of Kim Salmon’s "Bellyful of Slugs," while the B side is an absolute scorcher of an original, proving angry snot can run down the throat and face of anyone, no matter what age bracket they fall into. Dig that shit up here. Oh, and you can pick up the Watery Love 7” here.

As some of you may know, I can spend hours upon hours in the bathroom. What can I say? Blame it on the colitis! The printed matter that I have chosen to be my companion the last few trips is a split between two fanzines: France’s Ratcharge and upstate New York’s Accept the Darkness. A "split zine" as the kids call it. You might know the editors of these swell mags from their regular columns in Maximum Rock ‘N’ Roll. Or maybe you know them from that sloppy session you guys had in that Brooklyn courtyard during a Crazy Spirit set. Whatever. The half of the mag occupied by Accept The Darkness shows editor Shiva’s genuine punk ‘n’ core enthusiasm with pieces on Disclose, Vile Gash, and the Big Boys, while the Ratcharge side goes off the studs containing interviews with Tyvek and Sun Ra (the latter being old and stolen, obviously). Graphically, both mags do that McPheeters-cum-Daniel Stewart thing that I adore so much and it all makes me wish I didn’t trade my copy of Anti-Cimex’s Raped Ass for a lock of Richard Treece’s hair circa ’72 all those moons ago. (Ex- hardcore kid turned psych collector reference in column? Check!) Score here.

If you can’t tell from my flowery demeanor or non-sarcastic writing style, I was born and raised in the state of New Jersey. As you would imagine, I’ve taken plenty of crap throughout my life from dwellers outside of the state for all the preconceived notions they hold. Since I have no real loyalty to a place where my parents merely happened to screw and make me, I could really care less what these people say. The thing that always got on my tits was when people from the actual place would throw crap at me for not digging on all the shit us chemical breathers were supposed to share some mutual brain space on. Stuff like Springsteen, Kevin Smith, Joe Piscipo, and… you know, all that other horrid business. Barring a brief, though not vapid, flirtation with the early works of Mercer County resident Tommy Marolda, it wasn’t until a few years ago that I finally found a homegrown artist I felt some real unspoken bond with. Daniel DiMaggio has been recording under the moniker of Home Blitz for a minute now and all of his recordings thus far have been nothing short of matchless in capturing the suburban Nowhereville feel which permeates the central area of the Garbage State. His latest single, released on the Mexican Summer label (‘A.T.K’ b/w ’Last Cycle’), is yet another invigorating stab at dissecting the fore mentioned vibe until it bleeds the truth we (well, Daniel and I) need. The Chilton of Jersey? Take a listen for yourself and lemme know, you hairdo’d dick.

And keeping in that creepy "music speaks to me" motif, I’d like to say I really feel something of a connection with this tape I have here by the UK-based group Good Throb. It’s just like me—shambling and full of spite due to the way I have to earn a buck. There’s even a song named "Toner Loner." That’s what I fucking do for a living! Put toner in copy machines! How could I not love it? For now, I’ll call Good Throb the second coming of The Wrecks and be done with it for the mere fact that I have to go pick my wife up at work and wrap this up. But even if we had the time to have a beer and chat about them, I’d probably say the same thing to you anyway, so fuck it. Score it stateside here.

And let’s lay praise on whatever shifty bastard re-issued the Crowd Control 45 by Texas’ Really Red, one of the greatest late 70s US punk singles ever. To hear U-Ron and his boys unconsciously ratcheting up their attack for the American Hardcore thing about to come is a real brain burner and the fact you can now listen to it in its intended format without having to suck the shlong of some great collector pumpkin is quite a treat. Just imagine a room fulla New Wavers in pointy shoes and shades staring slack-jawed while this blared at them from the stage. Fuck.

That is that. Hope it was enough hackneyed hyperbole for all you geniuses. If not, don’t worry, there will be plenty more coming down the pikes for years and years to come. So tough luck, fuckers.