Punk-O-Rama
When I wasn’t skating on Minneapolis ice, snow, and two-for-one drink specials over the Thanksgiving weekend, I had the Diskords‘ Blame It on the Kids flypapered to my ears, with frontman Ted sneering lines like, “I could love you if I didn’t hate you.” I’m a total idiot for not racing to every show these guys play, since they’re just as young, loud, and snotty as the Dead Boys and the Kids, with a knack for explosive punk rock anthems that belies their age (they’re high-school freshmen and sophomores). “Savage Love” is the theme song to addictive lust, “My Mommie Is a Commie” is pure Ramones pop, and “Touch of Evil” leaves more corpses littered around than a Quentin Tarantino flick. This Friday, December 5, the band celebrates the release of “Pink Palace,” their awesome new 7-inch on Dirtnap, with a show at the Fun House. I took the occasion to ask bassist Nick what’s new with this Portland punk band. “‘Pink Palace’ was written with Adam of the Exploding Hearts,” Nick told me. “He said he had written a song for us, but when we finally got together, he forgot most of it and just played one part… the verse. We tried to use it but it didn’t really work. Then, after the [Exploding Hearts] accident, we just kept writing and added his part to make what I think is a great song. The lyrics are about hangin’ in their pad… I think,” Nick said of the Diskords’ tribute to the late singer.
Despite Northwest punk acts holding the band in high esteem–and the band cites the Briefs, Poison Idea, Portland’s the Speds, and the Spits as local influences–their status with the lunkheads at their school hasn’t changed. “People are always sayin’ shit ’cause we don’t listen to buttrock or rap. And not very many people at our school like us,” Nick said. Whatever–these guys are way beyond their years anyway.
Speaking of the Spits, the band’s new Dirtnap full-length is finally available, and it’s a killer record that even tops their previous release. (All Spits records are self-titled, marked only by different covers. This one has a chick and a robot on it.) The new album is a mix of lo-fi tracks about scruffy scuffles, nuclear bombs, and witch-hunts, offering plenty of warped pop hooks (and a few fucked-up skits). While I’d never say the Spits have “matured,” they have proved once again that they’re much more than a novelty act, fusing demented, noisy new wave with super-catchy choruses and a solidly juvenile sense of humor.
The Hideaway (located at 2219 Fourth Avenue) opens its doors with a Thursday, December 4 show featuring the Shackles, the Flying Dutchmen, and Thee Curses. The Shackles recently passed along a demo that’s got a screaming, sweating, psycho-stomp caveman blues vibe wrestling with a variety of vintage sounds, from the Sonics’ garage rock to a more general new Nuggets aesthetic. So far, I’m thoroughly impressed, and I hope to say the same about the new venue they’re rocking that night.