There is something unnerving about the way people treat one another in NYC. The only way to experience it is to live here for awhile. I remember when I was 17 or 18 and I was at a show at 404 Willis, a hole-in-the-wall anarcho punk den in Detroit’s Cass Corridor. Somehow my friend and I got in a conversation with this guy, Rat, in an alley close to the show. Rat was the real deal, and we were angry youth from the suburbs. Anyway, we were talking with Rat, and after throwing a brick through the window of an abandoned Escort, he  mentioned that he lived in New York for awhile. He went on to say that it was the worst experience of his life. He said living on that “scumshit infested island” left him feeling dirty as a toothless bum. That wasn’t saying much. Rat didn’t smell much better than the lingering aura of urine billowing through the corridor.

At the time, I was a huge fan of the New York hardcore scene. Shit, who wasn’t? I had a dubbed copy of the “Where The Wild Things Are” comp on constant repeat in my car. I couldn’t get enough of bands like Underdog, Bold, Killing Time, and of course — The Cro-Mags, who are responsible for the greatest hardcore album of all time “Age of Quarrel”.

Digression: I’m hoping at this very moment some kid chewing on a vegan Popsicle is reading this and thinking something like, “Actually, my man, — SSD’s ‘Get It Away’ EP is a far superior release.” That’s the problem with making affirmations like, “Melon is throwing the greatest party ever ..” because there is always going to be some schmuck out there ready to knock you off your block and show you up.

Even though Rat wasn’t a big fan of NYC he spoke adamantly of his love for the NYHC scene. He talked about how the singer from Sick of It All, Lou, was a real nice guy.  “I crashed on Lou’s floor for 2-nights. That dude is a real bro.” He talked about how tight knit the hardcore community was, and how even though the Lower East Side was a wasteland of drug addicts and poverty — “The hardcore kids always had my back,” Rat explained.

That night after the show, I went home and cued up “Age of Quarrel” on my turntable and was instantly transported to the streets of NYC. My boots were laced up, and I was walking down Avenue D ready for whatever came my way. And when the second tune “World Peace” kicked in I listened intently as vocalist John Joseph barreled through the lines “world peace can not exist”. I thought about how living on the streets of ’80s NYC might have even led a sociopath like Rat to carry a pessimistic outlook about NYC. For some twisted reason I was intrigued and wanted to see what it was like for myself. Kids imagine all kinds of stuff when they’re laying in their beds staring up at a ceiling filled with flyers for the upcoming Feisty Cadaver’s show at Blondies.

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One of the first hardcore albums that I couldn’t get enough of was “Start Today”. I still remember sitting at the kitchen table writing Revelation records a letter, thanking them for putting out an album that spoke exactly to what I needed to hear. It was as if the dudes in the band knew every pain ailing my 15-year-old mind. To this day, I am always happy when a GB tune pops up on shuffle.

My letter went something like this:

Dear Rev Records,

You guys put out the coolest music. The Gorilla Bisquits are the best band ever. All I want to do is listen. This album rules my fuckin’ life. Enclosed is a check for 15 bucks, my ma is good for it. Can I get the green hoodie and also maybe a few stickers. Tell the guys in GB that they better come play Detroit real soon. I hope you know this music really helps.

Thanks alot,
–d

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I imagine when Bob Dylan sang this tune at the famous Cafe Wha? on Macdougal Street that many a woman approached him later that night at the bar. They may have said something like, “Hi Bob, will you take me home? You don’t even have to sleep with me — we can just hold each other.”

Or perhaps one of the gentelemen smoking a corn cob pipe and wearing a knit hat approached him sheepishly and said, “Uh, hey man, that line about living in a dream. Well, I know what you’re talking about, and sometimes I feel that way too.”

Here’s to yesterday.

Rorschach’s cover of King Crimson’s 21^st Century Schizoid Man is, in this writer’s opinion, one of the all-time greatest covers in the annals of popular and underground music for the past 40 years. Although other heavy bands have covered this song, (Entombed, Voivod, April Wine?!) no version has the stripped naked immediacy that Rorschach brings to the basement with acetylene torch and coat hanger in hand. Beginning with the authoritative/hilarious sound-bite of the Man lecturing on top of overdriven whine, the twin guitars drop a Mossberg pump and confidently steer the riff like a steam roller over hot asphalt, massive, deliberate and smoldering.

The overall production of the record is what really kills. The guitars are massive, static sails, swamping the sonic real estate in place of horns and keys and screws the buzztone rigging to the deck. When compared to the original song which had some attempts at experimental production (telephone vocals etc.) updated technology raises the violence with Charles Maggio’s distorted vocals sounding as though being screamed through a gag from behind a false panel. The lyrics as a front-runner of intelligence in rock based music still hold massive relevance in painting a dark picture of a megalomaniac and Maggio’s delivery burns the slightly “camp” skin of Greg Lake clean off.

The ending / outro / breakdown itself steers clear of trying to keep up with the jazzy histrionics of the original. This is a smart move not because Rorschach is not talented enough, (they are), but because to mimic the original would pander to it like a hessian in a cover band pining to learn a Stevie Ray Vaughn solo note for note. Instead, Rorschach plows their own path and tracks along without all the fancy dress and self-importance. This provides a brooding, disjointed atmosphere just before the final swing on arguably one of the greatest, heaviest riffs in rock music’s lexicon.

–P. Torque

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I want to welcome a new contributing writer, Peter Torque, to the Five Minute Convo family. Torque is a good pal that brings a wealth of experience to the table, and he also cooks a mean ass turkey chili.

In order to put food on his plate, Torque spends his days as a freelance journalist. He has worked for various publications such as Spin, Rolling Stone, Juxtapoz, Maxim and Sports Illustrated. “Reading Torque is like taking a trip through the Prado on ten hits of Crank.” says one of his long-time readers, Eddie Spank.

In his spare time, Torque enjoys buying jeans that are too tight, getting trendy tattoos, drinking PBR and riding the crappiest bicycle he can find. So. let’s all welcome ole’ Torque to the Convo, and come back later to read his first post.

Listen to this show from start to finish. It will be an interesting experience. I guarantee it. However, if you don’t enjoy the ride you are welcome to ask for your money back. “Wait a second. If this show is free of charge then how will I get my money back?” That’s precisely my point.

1) Alex Chilton — “Baron of L#ve”

2) Aerosmith — “M{}ma Kin”

3) The Dwarves — “I Want You to D+e”

3) Leatherface — “Little White G%d”

4) Operation Ivy — “Sle=p Long”

5) Hawkwind — Motorhead

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The Daily News wrote a while back about a guy who died falling down an escalator at Shea Stadium. The article described how this guy, a hard-working Dad, fell to his death while his children watched in horror. They closed the article by mentioning that this is Shea’s last season in business. Very interesting.

You know what makes me feel good? A warm shower that lasts as long as I want, and the Pegboy song, “Through My Fingers“. When Naked Raygun broke up I felt a hard punch in the gut. But when Pegboy got together and started playing shows — the pain subsided.

There is an excellent guitar solo in this song — something ole Slash would be proud of. Speaking of Slash — his new book is not half bad. I’ve got a lot to say about that book, but I’ll try and sum it up in one sentence: Love you bros, your beer, your art and the good and bad times with family.

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The riffs are ripping my chest apart while Dying Fetus go on about being born in Sodom. “This is pure grindcore,” Charlie says. Then he says, “It ain’t how much you write it’s how you say it.”

I’ve got things to say. I want to tell him that. Instead, I look on in awe as he thumbs his way through his hard drive collection showing me, like a true expert, why metal matters. This guy has way too much music. We’re talking every single Sabbath album, not just the good ones. He even has the one with Toni Iommi standing off to the side by his lonesome looking into the wind, thinking “Where the fuck is Ozzy?” And he still had the nerve to call that shite Black Sabbath. “Actually,” Charlie interrupts, “the record label made him do it.”

Charlie also plays some Witchcraft. While listening my mouth drops bits of saliva — it happens the same way when I think about a bowl of wonton soup. Rock versus WonTon soup — that would be a tough battle.

There is something about these guys from Orebro, Sweden that sounds fantastically brilliant in that heavy way that makes you pump your fist in the air with a stoic smile while yelling: “Things don’t always have to be this way.” Each song by Witchcraft is a finely crafted piece of work , and the fact that they are from Sweden and say things like “I can not wake the dead/since they are all ready alive,” makes them extra cool. That little bit came off the shredder, “Wooden Cross” from the band’s 2005 release, Firewood.

But we’re going to check out the tune “Leva” from Witchcraft’s 2007 LP, The Alchemist. In this song, frontman, Magnus Pelander sings every lick in his Sweedish brogue. What he’s saying doesn’t matter so much as the brute power behind his grave tenor. The usual references of Sabbath and Pentagram qualify this tune as straightforward doom metal. But there is something more here that I can’t put my finger through. Perhaps that’s why it’s so damn good. Thanks for the new tunes, Charlie.

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“Look Rat, it’s like riding a bike. Fall off; you’re right back on. Mess up a date, do it again.” –Mike Damone

So here we go with Episode 2. Man, time flies — seeing as Episode 1 came out just over a year ago. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for stopping by.

The Story
Title: “Hey Little Rich Boy”
Artist: Sham 69
From: Tell Us The Truth

Title: “We All Fall Down”
Artist: Egghunt
From: Egghunt 7″

Title: “Bottle Caps”
Artist: Ann Beretta
From: Band Played On: Live At Home

Title: “Too Young To Know”
Artist: UFO
From: Phenomenon

Title: “Right Side Of My Mind”
Artist: Angry Samoans
From: Inside My Brain

Title: “Feels Like Drowning”
Artist: Lost Patrol Band
From: Lost Patrol Band

Title: “Neurotic”
Artist: Bouncing Souls
From: The Good the Bad & the Argyle

Title: “Archangel”
Artist: Samhain
From: Initium

Title: “Lonesome Warrior”
Artist: Eric Bachmann
From: To The Races

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Ah, remember college. Those were some good days: play music, chase girls, college radio, Telneting, late night 7-Layer Burritos. Ah college..

I have great memories about the band I played drums in for most of college at Western Michigan University(We were a three piece rock outfit called Fletcher). And I think we were a half decent band that may have even put a smile on 2 or 7 faces. Recently, some songs from our 7″ were posted on a website dedicated to uncovering and promoting the Kalamazoo underground rock scene.

Kalamzoo was a cornerstone of the Midwest rock circuit. I went to a Thought Industry basement show when I was still in high school, circa ‘91, and overheard some dude say “K-zoo” was going to be the next Seattle. Shit, that long-hair’s pontification in that dingy basement with a belly full of Bush was enough to reject Michigan State University, a far more prestigious university than “Wastern”. My Mom never quite understood my logic — “I’m telling you, Ma,  A&R dudes like live there.”

Anyway, I love the 7″ and am glad it’s available for the world to see. It’s also a personal thrill to have the digital files in my possession, because I’ll be honest, I still haven’t gotten around to transferring my vinyl to .mp3 — probably never will. And these tunes make for great headphone nostalgia while the dog walks me around the park.

It’s a toss-up, but I think my favorite tune on this 1995 release was “You’re a Tramp”. I think my drumming is a bit sloppy (practicing rudiments was never top priority) but it fit the band — precision was never our strong suit. Having fun, jumping around and playing our hearts out — that definitely counted for something, though: “Yeah man, we opened for the Laughing Hyena’s,” says me 9-years ago, trying to get some girl to kiss me at a Sensefield show at the Shelter. This was Fletcher.

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