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Psychopathia Sexualis The Makers (Estrus) Of related interest: Boss Hog, leopard-print home decor, Les Savy Fav Don't let the Makers' sunglasses-at-night fetish turn you off to their cauterized sonics. They are one of the most wrongfully overlooked rock acts in the region. This Northwest quartet--half residing in sorrowful Spokane, the other half slumming in Seattle--makes local firebugs Murder City Devils look like kindergartners just discovering the Fisher Price xylophone and daddy's Zippo. Check out the Makers' recent LP, Psychopathia Sexualis, and wonder why the toxicology of "(Are You on the Inside or the Outside of Your) Pants?" isn't already blowing holes in Brian Jonestown Massacre's bid for crown kings of nouveau psychedelica--or at least converting legions of rockabilly fans to join the dark side of pompadouria. Produced by Jack Endino in a mere eight days, Psychopathia has a splash of Redd Kross ("Lover Lover"), a Hammond-drenched paean to the Turtles ("Psychotropic Supergirl"), and a whole lotta lipstick-smeared recantations, all of them backed by enough raunchy guitar to tan leather. Save for some occasionally infantile lyrics (i.e. "She's a sicko sexual/She's a skin-tellectual"), it's hard to find one wallet chain out of place on Psychopathia. Kristy Ojala
Royal Trux (Drag City) Of related interest: Rolling Stones, Pussy Galore, early Stooges Either Royal Trux are a shrewd gang of pop deconstructionists--dissolving the blues of the Rolling Stones in a dreamy, steaming vat of mud, drugs and primal playfulness--or they're lazy stoners who've fooled everyone into believing that they know what the hell they're doing. I hesitantly vote for the latter. Maybe in their cacophonous early days, when guitarist Neil Hagerty was fresh off a tour of duty with notorious New York screech-rockers Pussy Galore, they had a clue. Certainly their space-brained explorations are tougher than the cupcake glam I'd sometimes like to cram back down the Dandy Warhols' peacock throats. But following a much-publicized deal with Virgin Records, and vocalist/ex-addict Jennifer Herrema's stint as a Calvin Klein "junkie chic" model, the Trux sacrificed whatever avant-garde status they once had and became simply another sloppy rock band. 3-Song EP is fine for all that, a trio of post-Stooges journeys into smoky anti-pop that's got enough bubble gum to make it chewy but stays away from clean melodies and clear hooks. Lyrics are typically tart phrases that taste like throwaways taped back together in the studio. Is it awful? No. Is it brilliant? Only if you believe lava lamps are high sculptural art. John Graham3-Song EP
Five Lessons Learned Swingin' Utters (Fat Wreck Chords) Of related interest: Pogues, Workin' Stiffs, Stiff Little Fingers It's easy to dismiss genre works. In doing so, however, one can overlook distinguished artists who operate within definable stylistic boundaries, artists like the Swingin' Utters. Yes, they're yet another band that seeks romanticism in late-'70s/early '80s British punk, but they're not a bag of archaic clichés. Over two full LPs and a few EPs, the Utters--and specifically songwriter Darius Koski--have undermined trite formulas with nigh-poetic lyrics that are all cloudy days and turmoil, flames of anger barely quenched by a drenching rain of ale and whiskey. Five Lessons Learned once again picks up that thematic thread, then allows it to unravel. Too often Koski relinquishes lyrical duties to his bandmates, and their attempts to expand beyond Clash-y rants frequently misfire, weakening the mixture's potency. (Hardcore purists will undoubtedly flay them for "This Bastard's Life"--the pianos and organs are closer to the Lovin' Spoonful than the Last Resort.) When Five Lessons Learned works, though, it's beautiful and bombastic, as on the stout, Pogues-y numbers "A Promise to Distinction" and "New Day Rising," as well as during the pensive acoustic closer, "Fruitless Fortunes." All three are, of course, penned by Koski, punk's rising poet laureate. Keep the quill in his hands and the Utters will be unstoppable. John Graham
originally published September 30, 1998
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