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Motion City Soundtrack with Tsunami Bomb, Limbeck and The Last Word
Thursday · Radio Down
For some reason, that enigmatically addictive decade known as the ’80s just doesn’t want to die. Its aura seems to be clamoring for a do-over, just to show people how much fun it all was. Advocates of this movement are everywhere and their strides to achieve a full ’80s revival get longer with each step. College co-eds still throw ’80s parties. John Hughes movies are always on TBS. There’s even the TV special simply titled I Love the ’80s that was so popular it prompted a follow-up: Return of I Love the ’80s. But what’s really the key element behind this? What sets the pace to this movement? Why, the music, of course. A new New Wave is snowballing into our society, and Motion City Soundtrack could be the next constables for the welcome rejuvenation.
They’re a Pop/Punk quintet that’s heavy on the former and light on the latter with an analog Moog synthesizer wedged in the middle. The Moog also serves as their main vessel for time travel. Their full-length debut, I Am The Movie (Epitaph), is almost entirely made of extremely bouncy and exceptionally catchy songs that camouflage a heart of dark comedic idiosyncrasies. How very ’80s. Get past the sheen and you’ll find “Modern Chemistry” to be about a struggle with depression. They name-drop everything from Paul’s Boutique to cK1 to Will & Grace, pulling a comforter of clever wit over the bleak realities of materialism and superficiality. These characteristics are running as rampant now as they were in the past but MCS mixes ’80s accessibility with their own dry humor to take the edge off. But how could they take such issues too seriously? To them, this is all a movie. (Jacob Richardson)
Lars Frederiksen and the Bastards with Roger Miret and the Disasters
Friday · Top Cat’s
When Rancid rose from the ashes of Operation Ivy in 1991 as a trio consisting of guitarist Tim Armstrong, bassist Matt Freeman and drummer Brett Reed, the band was a potent mass of disparate Punk and Ska influences filtered through their uniquely American Hardcore perspective. With the addition of second guitarist Lars Frederiksen, Rancid became one of the most formidable sonic forces in Punk. Frederiksen brought an absolutely relentless ethic to Rancid — a desire to play louder, tour longer and work harder than any other band — and the result is Rancid’s unassailable position as one of the most focused and beloved Punk outfits of the past 20 years. After the release of last year’s Indestructible album, Frederiksen made a very cogent point about his place in the musical universe: “We take our music and what we do seriously,” he said at the time. “Music is our life, our passion, it’s the only thing we know how to fucking do. It’s the only thing that’s given us any hope and any desire to live. It’s all I can do. I’ve got tattoos on my face … I can’t go get a job at McDonald’s.” It might be that very thought that drove Frederiksen to launch his side project, The Bastards, in 2001 as a response to Rancid’s infrequent breaks and in an effort to unleash creative urges that even Rancid could not satisfy. Both of Frederiksen’s Bastards releases, 2001’s eponymous debut and the just-released Viking, have been collaborations with Armstrong, who has produced and co-written both albums. With the Bastards, however, Frederiksen dials back the Ska syncopation in favor of a more visceral Punk atmosphere, a howling mad whirlwind of Hardcore anthemics and my-fist/your-face defiance. And as much pure Punk frenzy and unrestrained joy as Frederiksen generates on both Bastards discs, he proves his assertion about the seriousness of it all with his dedications, memorializing the first album to his late friend Ben and Viking to his recently deceased older brother Rob. To Lars Frederiksen, Rock & Roll is life and he lives and loves it to the fullest. (Brian Baker)
Hatebreed and Full Blown Chaos with Terror and Sick Of It All
Monday · Bogart’s
· Connecticut might not seem like a hotbed of Extreme music, but it provided plenty of inspiration for the brutal chunkage of Hatebreed. The band began their journey in 1993 as a quintet, assembling around a common love of Hardcore (they christened themselves after the Misfits song, “Hatebreeders”) and basement-jammed to a similarly thrashing conclusion around their New Haven environs. After a four-year apprenticeship that found Hatebreed opening gigs for the likes of Slayer, Deftones, Entombed and Napalm Death and doing various tracks for singles, EPs, splits and compilations, Hatebreed finally signed with Victory Records for their crushing 1997 debut album, Satisfaction is the Death of Desire. After more relentless roadwork, Hatebreed was signed by Universal and released the potent and well-received Perseverence in 2002. The following year saw the departure of guitarist Lou Boulder — leaving the founding quartet of shredding vocalist Jamey Jasta, guitarist Sean Martin, bassist Chris Beattie and drummer Matt Byrne — and the release of the equally lauded The Rise of Brutality. 2004 has been a huge year for Hatebreed; the band’s European tour with Slayer and Slipknot was a rousing success, their Ozzfest appearances this summer were among the tour’s most anticipated and well received, Jasta’s side project Icepick toured and hit the studio to record their debut full-length (in addition, Jasta hosts MTV’s revamped Headbanger’s Ball, and operates Stillborn Records and Hatewear, his own record label and clothing line, respectively), and Hatebreed was nominated for a Grammy for Best Metal Performance for “Live for This,” from The Rise of Brutality. 2005 promises to be every bit as hectic as the band continues to tour pathologically while reportedly working on new material which could come out next year if they can crowbar some studio time into their impossibly dense day planner, perhaps the only thing in Hatebreed’s career as heavy as their music. (Brian Baker)
· You can’t say you didn’t know what to expect after attending a Full Blown Chaos show. Not since the Shitty Beetles has a band been so appropriately named. Basically, FBC is a sonic scrum of madness. Not a schizophrenic, off-kilter sort of lunacy that has each song shooting off into an array of directions. FBC is quite the opposite, very much a template of Metal composure. They tend to stick to 4/4 time signatures throughout and while the rhythm stays the same their tempo accelerates to manic speeds before exploding into deep, droning breakdowns. Guitarist Mike Facci prefers power over skill, leaving solos for the weak of heart and instead pounds out riffs with sledgehammer force. Although a majority of Ray Mazzola’s lyrics are indecipherable, given his guttural delivery, I can assure you that the messages his vocal chords strain to translate are as brutal as the pulsating music. Song titles like “Burned Alive,” “Chains of Bloodshed” and “Apocalypse” — all off their latest album, Wake The Demons (Stillborn) — are clear warning signs that aggression and ferocity take center stage in their visceral, blood-curdling anthems. (Jacob Richardson)
This article appears in Dec 15-21, 2004.
