Evil Mothers - Spider Sex and Car Wrecks

Year: 1997
Label: Alternative Tentacles
Style: Industrial
Location: The 99 Cent Store
Medium: CD
Condition: New
Dollar diamond or dud: Dud

Info: I've often said that the only time that it really pays to know about music is when you're hunting around the bargain bins, but, sadly, that same knowledge can burn you when it comes boiling over. Case in point, I turned over the hideously titled Spider Sex and Car Wrecks in the 99 Cent Store and saw these two tidbits that ultimately swayed me to part with my pocket change:

Produced by Martin Atkins.
Alternative Tentacles Records Ltd.

The breakdown: You probably know Martin Atkins even if you think you don't. He's done time in Killing Joke and Swans and maned the skins for PIL.

Alternative Tentacles, on the other hand, has been putting out trailblazing shit in most punk-related genres for years now. It's Jello Biafra's label. Within their ranks, at one time or another, has resided bands like Amebix, the Butthole Surfers, Comets on Fire, the Melvins, Neurosis, Nomeansno, and on and on and on.

So, to me at least, this seemed like a can't miss purchase. Mistake. Evil Mothers is pretty by-the-numbers industrial dreck, right down to the tribal drumming, silly atmospherics, and the cringe-inducing songwriting choices. The whole album kind of sounds like a band trying to play a Download album...slowly. I honestly don't like a lot of industrial, so this could very well be another man's treasure, but, really, I would've expected better and, well, anything after examining the clues that the back cover provided; like an all-girl band in the Jesus Lizard mold, a Pigface clone,...something...anything... Ugh.

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Ned's Atomic Dustbin - Brainbloodvolume

Year: 1994
Label: Sony
Style: Alt-rock
Location: The Great Escape Discount Store (Nashville)
Medium: CD
Condition: Used
Dollar diamond or dud: Dud

Like most of North America, I first came across Ned's Atomic Dustbin with the release of "Grey Cell Green" off their God Fodder record. Also, like most of North America, I wasn't impressed with their duelling-bassists gimmick, although I will admit that I enjoyed God Fodder for what it was, which was ultimately just future $1-bin (god) fodder. Although I liked it okay, I didn't enjoy it enough to pick up Are You Normal?, and I only picked this one up because... well, it was $1. Enjoying something of a minor alt-rock blip with "Grey Cell," Ned's failed to capitalize on anything by releasing two consecutive boring records, before collapsing and fading away entirely...

A blend of Madchester beats, punky riffing, alt-pop dreaminess, and blandness, Ned's sound like about forty-seven British bands at the time, most notably Jesus Jones, except without the hookiness. This isn't awful--it's merely competent. And consequently, it's sort of pointless for anything more than $1. Back to the two bassists, one would play a higher melody line and the other would play the more traditional bass parts, so there's a combination of the typical post-punk British "let the bass carry the melody" ideal with the usual "let the bass fill out the sound' aesthetic, but that's more interesting in print than practice, I'd say.

Pale Divine - Straight To Goodbye

Year: 1991

Label: Atlantic
Style: Alt-rock

Location: The Great Escape Discount Store (Nashville)

Medium: CD

Condition: Used

Dollar diamond or dud: Dud

Not the killer doom metal band, but instead a St. Louis-based you'd-swear-the-singer-was-British early-90s alt-rock band, sort of like a darker Live or something similar. At this point, the biggest claim-to-fame this band would have is the presence of future-G'n'R guitarist Richard Fortus. I've seen the word "industrial" tossed around when discussing this record, but I don't really equate this with industrial music, at least not industrial in the sense of Einsturzende Neubauten or NIN or whatever. Maybe this has some elements of martial, mechanical percussion or general industrial darkness, but overall, this is like a more gothic Live mixed with a depressed U2 or something.

The drumming is bouncy, like Larry Mullen Jr, and the guitars are psychedelic-tinged and generally riff-free, clean and spacey, so this is college-y alt-rock. Nothing here rocks, though--it's all mid-tempo at best, with some almost King's X-y vocal melodies. Vocalist Michael Shaerer possesses a disaffected version of that 90s-alt world-weary I've-got-something-to-say-ness, if that makes any sense--that palpable sense that, for better or worse, these artists meant what they were saying, even if what they were saying didn't make shit for sense at times. (See also: Ed Kowalczyk or Eddie Vedder.)

I'd also read some reports on this band talking about how they were St. Louis' favorite sons back in the day, how they were the biggest band from that area, but here's the deal: at the risk of pissing off a minor major city, I've been to St. Louis--I've got friends there even--and that place sucks. Sorry. It sucks. And this band is good, but compared to Live, for example, they're stuck in Mental Jewelry, without the brilliance of Throwing Copper, and rightfully condemned to the $1 bin. Not an awful purchase, but far from transcendent.

About the Great Escape Discount Store: Nashville's Great Escape is one my favorite stores on the planet, and I spend a ridiculous amount of money there. (The first CD I bought there: a used copy of Malevolent Creation's The Ten Commandments in 1993.) The discount store is just an overflow store for their unsellable CDs, with everything discounted. I find it's a great place to catch up on the last decade's popular bands, like Live or Counting Crows or the Cranberries, all for $1. I'll pay $1 for almost anything.

Blood Duster - Cunt

Year: 2001
Label: Relapse
Style: Grindcore
Location: Mystery Train in Gloucester, MA
Medium: CD
Condition: Used
Dollar diamond or dud: Dud

Info: Realize that while this is a dud for me, it might not be for most. Blood Duster takes the simplistic groove of pornogrinders like Cock and Ball Torture, grafts on a few whiskey-drenched, heroin-injected Soilent Green-esque NOLA riffs, and drops some "funny" lyrics that makes Leng Tch'e seem like poet laureates. Problem? Besides hearing it thousands of times before, it's just plain tame. Stuff like this needs that certain spark of shock to exist and considering that, by '01, Anal Cunt was already over a decade old, Cunt fails to excite even a neophyte grinder looking for lecherous behavior. Check the video that apes "No Sleep till Brooklyn" or the cover that's a straight, and somehow less offensive, rip of Ween's Chocolate and Cheese and try to tell me that this wasn't bound to find its way into the dollar bin from the get go. Granted, tracks like "Thecorpsesong" aren't the worst way to spend a couple of minutes, but if you're looking for something more than disposable fun, you're not going to find it.

Notes on Mystery Train: If you're doing the sightseeing thing at Gloucester pier and have a hankering for some old R&B and proto rock n' roll vinyl, Mystery Train is a great place to hit up. It's loaded with classic grooves although it's sadly light on everything else. The classical section (No Ives? Seriously?) is downright tiny, but the fact that they have a proudly displayed novelty rack makes up for it. The staff was pretty typical for an independent and seemed to want to lord their metal knowledge over me despite the fact that repeated attempts to incite conversation regarding Pentagram and Candlemass went nowhere (kinda seemed like the indie type of ironic metallers). Still, considering where it is, it's a decent place to drop in on a whim.

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