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There’s a “Fab Mab” group over on Facebook devoted to the glory days of San Francisco punk rock and, specifically, The Mabuhay Gardens club on Broadway.

Here are two flyers folks posted over there, showing the breadth and weirdness of the day. Roy Loney and the Phantom Movers (ex-Flamin’ Groovies) with opener Black Flag (!!?!). One can only imagine.

Then there’s these back-to-back bills at the American Indian Center at 14th and Valencia, where I believe an artisanal french toast restaurant now stands (no joke). One night it’s the Circle Jerks; the next night it’s Canned Heat. The hippies hadn’t shuffled off San Francisco’s mortal coil just yet to make way for the punx, and it looks like venues were trying their best to turn a buck or two from both camps.

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Broadcasting from a laptop in San Francisco, California, Dynamite Hemorrhage Radio #49 is all about top-tier sub-underground rocknroll from the last five decades. Not a song is wasted, because in a short-attention-span world, we need tobring it, and modesty aside – the show brings it, especially if you use the “scrubber” to skip over the horrifically annoying host. 

Then you’re left with righteous new stuff from BENT (pictured), DREAMSALON, THE FIREWORKS, ULTIMATE PAINTING and NOTS – along with classy material from days of yore by Pussy Galore, Feedtime, Captain Beefheart & The Magic Band, Animals and Men, Honey Radar, England’s Glory, Sally Skull, Neon Boys, Syd Barrett and much more. Get it while it’s steaming and fresh – download it or stream it now before the squares do.

Download Dynamite Hemorrhage Radio #49 here.
Stream or download it over on Soundcloud.
Subscribe to the show on iTunes.

Playlist:
BENT – Skeleton Man
THE FIREWORKS – On and On
NOTS – Insect Eyes
PIRANHAS – Dangerline
FEEDTIME – Mother
ANIMALS AND MEN – Render Us Harmless
LUNG LEG – Dirty Plotte
ULTIMATE PAINTING – Central Park Blues
THE CANNANES – Sound of the City
THE MINDERS – Now I Can Smile
HONEY RADAR – Lost and Found
ENGLAND’S GLORY – Shattered Illusions
DREAMSALON – Soft Stab
PUSSY GALORE – Damaged II
MURPHY AND THE MOB – Born Loser
SYD BARRETT – Vegetable Man
NEON BOYS – Love Come In Spurts
GRAHAM PARKER & THE RUMOUR – Local Girls
DUM DUM GIRLS – Jail La La
SALLY SKULL – Mean Woman
THE GORLS – TVs On
CAPTAIN BEEFHEART & THE MAGIC BAND – Mirror Man 

Some past shows:
Dynamite Hemorrhage #48    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #47    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #46    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #45    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #44    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #43    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #42    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #41    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #40    (playlist) 
 

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In case you stayed off the internet last Monday: here’s the latest hour-long edition of our Dynamite Hemorrhage Radio podcast.

dynamitehemorrhage:

We took an unforgivable three weeks to get this podcast, our forty-eighth, to the people – but we were sorta busy. There was this, and then there was this. And here’s this – a 1 hour, 3 minute edition of DYNAMITE HEMORRHAGE RADIO (#48), which goes from frantic to frantic-er over its 63 minutes and which might be the most edifying phony radio show since our last one – or at least since this one by our magazine’s esteemed contributing editor.

If you choose to proceed, you’ll be hearing new stuff from Midnight Snaxxx, Primetime, Sauna Youth, Buck Biloxi and the Fucks, Coneheads, Shitkickers, CCTV, Ultimate Painting and Russell Street Bombings. These modern heroes will be interspersed with Grade-A material from winners from the past – like Liliput (pictured); Rema-Rema, England’s Glory, Die Kreuzen, The Minutemen and even Clothilde (she follows a set of hardcore and closes out the show in fine style). You know what? I think you might like it.

Download Dynamite Hemorrhage Radio #48 here.
Stream or download this episode on Soundcloud here.
Subscribe to the show on iTunes here.

Playlist:

MIDNIGHT SNAXXX – Don’t Wake Me Up
ENGLAND’S GLORY – City of Fun
PASTICHE – Flash of the Moment
ULTIMATE PAINTING – Ten Street
ELECTRIC EELS – Wreck and Roll
PRIMETIME – Right Track
LILIPUT – Split
CCTV – Le Jom
THE TAKE – Summer
RIGHT PROFILE – Alien
SAUNA YOUTH – Monotony
THE CONEHEADS – Lizard Lady
THE 1-4-5s – Crush Rush
REMA-REMA – Short Stories
RUSSELL STREET BOMBINGS – Homicide Squad
SHITKICKERS – N.Y. Niceguy
DIE KREUZEN – Hate Me
SIN 34 – Nuclear War
RED CROSS – Burn-Out
QUEER PILLS – Time To Fuck 
MINUTEMEN – Below The Belt
THE STAINS – Sick and Crazy
BUCK BILOXI AND THE FUCKS – I’m Useless
CLOTHILDE – La Verite, Toute la Verite

Some past shows:
Dynamite Hemorrhage #47    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #46    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #45    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #44    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #43    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #42    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #41    (playlist) 
Dynamite Hemorrhage #40    (playlist)

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I’ve loved the 1984 TALES OF TERROR album from the first time I heard it. It’s not for everyone, granted – you’ve got to have a decent half-respect for hardcore punk, sloppy glam rock and even a tinge of metal, and/or for the better aspects of what morphed into “grunge” just a few years later.

Here are a few things you need to know:

1. Their story is tragic across the board. Here’s a great article from a couple of months ago in the Sacramento News and Review you’ll wanna read.

2. There’s a documentary film being made about the band as we speak.

3. And here’s our take on the band, written back in 2004 on an old blog…

TALES OF TERROR – “TALES OF TERROR” LP

Time marches, bellies extend, joints stiffen and responsibilities mount, but one thing remains constant: that 1984 TALES OF TERROR LP is one fucking incredible long-haired punk rock & roll record! These alcoholic Sacramento-rooted bastard sons of ELVIS, THE STOOGES and BLACK SABBATH have aged very well with the passage of the years, and when I plopped on their one and only LP this past week for a couple of spins, it blew me away – again, as it always has. GREEN RIVER? Loved ‘em, but their bombastic guitar & drum roaring never held a candle to this revved-up record, as even Mark Arm would likely admit (they covered this record’s “Ozzy” on their “Dry As A Bone” EP in homage).

This record almost perfectly arrives at the nexus of early 80s hardcore punk and heavy 70s glam, adding a small dollop of 45 GRAVE or MISFITS-style horror imagery which thankfully doesn’t mess up the sound one bit. 45 Grave and The Misfits, bless them both, unfortunately let the spooky goth-vibes seep into their music, employing creepy echoes, ridiculous “ghastly voices from the beyond” and annoying witch-like cackling far too often. Both bands ruled, but it’s hard to listen without switching a judgmental, BS-detecting, post-teenage portion of the brain completely off. Not so with these guys. I used to see “Tales of Terror” spray-painted in men’s bathrooms across the San Francisco Bay Area (especially in bars as I got older), but the dumb-ass mohawk punks in my high school – the ones who regularly made it up to SF for shows, unlike me – just hated them, almost as much as they hated FLIPPER. Loved by the drunks, loathed by the Dead Kennedys-loving high school alternajerks. Draw your own conclusions. 

Out of the gates this record is fast, loose and full of swaggering, liquid courage. Two lead guitarists, neither of whom shies from firing off a “fiery” but non-obnoxious lead from time to time, usually over a near-hardcore tempo (“13” and “Deathryder”). The track that everyone loved at my college radio station was “Over Elvis Worship”, about how the spirit of Elvis inhabits singer Rat’s Ass thanks to a well-placed tatoo of the King “down on (his) cock”. As if. But that track – and all of Side 2 – is just incredible raw, blazing and bleary-eyed fun rock and roll. I’ve always been partial to “Romance”, the lead track on Side 2, which is to me the template song for my made-up category of long-haired punk.

Some great fake names for these guys, too – well, “Rat’s Ass” and “Dusty Coffin” aren’t that hot, but what about “Captain Trip Mender” and “Thopper Jaw”? Whoa. There are rumors circulating that CD Presents, who originally put out this LP, are thinking about gathering the tracks and throwing them out there again on compact disc. This is an exciting event, but tempered by the fact that I’ve never read a thing about CD Presents that didn’t present the guy behind the label as an out-and-out crook, loathed by just about every band who ever recorded for him. I know there are some peeps in the audience who saw this band a bunch, and I hope you’ll weigh in posthaste on the majesty that was Tales of Terror.

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Here’s what Dynamite Hemorrhage’s Erika Elizabeth has to say about this summer’s PRIMETIME 7"EP:

Killer slash & burn angular pop from four London ladies who paint a fairly convincing picture of what the first Elastica album might have sounded like if they had lifted their songs from the Au Pairs & Delta 5 rather than Wire & the Stranglers. Primetime are clearly well-schooled in the rich history of post-Desperate Bicycles minimalist DIY messthetics (UK Division), as evidenced by the agitated vocals, wiry guitar & ever so slightly off-balance drums propelling “Slushy”, which, despite my initial hopeful excitement, is not actually a cover of the Vaselines song of the same name (but no matter). My gold star, however, goes to the opener “Tied Down”, which sort of updates the skittering see-saw rush of Kleenex’s “Ain’t You” for the realities of casual encounters in 2014, with the particularly gleeful kiss-off line “I want your body, not your mind; don’t wanna see you all the time” delivered via an effortlessly cool girl-crew chorus. Yes, a million times yes. Do not fuck with Primetime! (La Vida Es Un Mus; lavidaesunmus.com) – Erika

Order our new issue, with 86 more reviews like this one, here.

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(Originally posted in July 2004 on my now-defunct Agony Shorthand blog)

WHERE TO START WITH GIANT SAND?

It was about 11-12 years ago when I became deeply entangled with the music of the then-California High Desert-based (by way of Tucson) GIANT SAND, and bought pretty much their entire back catalog in one fell swoop. I’d seen the band play once before, in 1987 in Los Angeles – they were still in their Dylan-of-the-desert stage best heard on the 1986 LP “Ballad Of A Thin Line Man”, and actually blew me away with a great keyboard-drenched set of country-based troubadour blues, similar to their pals GREEN ON RED (whose Chris Cacavas was conveniently guesting on keyboards that evening). But an ill-fated purchase of their next record, 1988’s “The Love Songs”, soured me on the band for a couple of years – right around this time Howe Gelb & co. were veering into an experimental black hole of their own making, taking a blender to traditional American roots music and creating something full of quick edits, abrupt shifts in direction, random noise and/or talking, and lyrics that made sense to no one but themselves & the man on the moon. They kept getting big props in the fanzines of the day, but I couldn’t crack the new code. 

That was the case until I heard 1992’s “Center Of The Universe” and became re-engaged in a big way. While Giant Sand retained a lot of the weird surprises of the intervening years, in which a song could be an explosive 30-second shitstorm or a beautiful folk-tinged pop song, the songcraft was at its peak during their 1991-94 glory years. Gelb’s mumbly vocal style and cryptic lyrics gave him a certain stature as a true, bent original, and the much-heralded Convertino/Burns rhythm section were helping him crank out some really terrific songs. They were like this weird, desert-based communal family, with members that floated in and out (Paula Jean Brown, Gelb’s wife and then ex-wife, made regular appearances) & special guests like Gelb’s 6-year-old daughter or an ancient old desert sage that Gelb met in a bar (Pappy something-or-other, who is in full force on 1991’s “Ramp”). To this day “Center of the Universe” remains my third favorite of the three CDs of theirs I’ve held onto into the 21st century. The real killer, the one I still listen to all the time, is 1994’s major label debut (and not at all coincidentally, their final major label record), “Glum”. This is where it all came together: slithering, eerie folk songs full of danger (“Happenstance” and “Glum”); know-it-all travelogues (“Frontage Road”), NEIL YOUNG-style erupto-metal, and the usual detours deep into Howe Gelb’s cranium, this time a journey well worth taking. 

My problem with the band not long after this one was that everything was being recorded and nothing was being tossed, no matter how jammy or boring. Gelb’s unharnessed creativity led him to put out just about everything he did, and I was gobbling it all. I finally had to filter the band’s accumulated catalog into those three essential CDs: “Ramp”, “Center of the Universe” and “Glum” (I dipped a toe back in a few years ago when “Chore of Enchantment” came out and didn’t like it). Talk to people these days about Giant Sand and you’re usually going to get a frothingly positive response or a big fat “they suck”. I’m trying to take a nuanced middle path here, and recommend checking out those 3 if you’re still a bit dubious – and keeping your distance from the remainder.