Go to:
- La Mano Cornuda (1993)
- The Sacrilicious Sounds of the Supersuckers (1995)
- Must've Been High (1997)
- How the Supersuckers Became the Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World (1999)
- The Evil Powers of Rock ‘n’ Roll (1999)
- The Songs Sound All the Same (2002)
- Motherfuckers Be Trippin' (2003)
- From the Audio/Video Dept., Live in Anaheim DVD (2004)
La Mano Cornuda (1993)
7.5
Creepy Jackalope Eye / Seventeen Poles / High Ya! / On the Couch
/ Clueless / Sugie / Mudhead / Gold Top / How to Maximize Your Kill
Count / I Was Born without a Spine / Glad, Damn Glad / She’s
My Bitch / The Schmooze
Although
it’s possible to describe their music so that the uninitiated might
get an idea of what they sound like, an alternate tag like “Music to
drink beer to” might even be more effective, because that’s basically
what it is. Rugged, usually speedy, nearly cartoonish testerone-driven rock
‘n’ roll that combines the dirtiness of AC/DC
and the crudeness of Motörhead with the velocity and energy of punk rock.
The Supersuckers are basically the ideal party band, a bunch of mercenaries
getting kicks from chords and sweaty solos, a relentless cigarettes &
booze-sponsored decibel-monster. By consequence, their music rarely seems
the refined end-result of a gut-wrenching creative process (I mean, only the
Supersuckers can call themselves “the greatest rock ‘n roll
band in the world” and actually get away with it) and it’s
certainly not recommended to the sensitive souls who seek emotional depth
and evocative imagery wrapped in tasteful arrangements, but if you’re
looking for fun, belches and trouble with a well-hidden ironic twist, these
guys are gonna be your best friends. Don’t be mislead by the fact that
these Arizonans appeared on the Sub Pop label; contrary to most acts on that
label, the Suckers are thoroughly unpretentious, hard-rocking, and spearheaded
by Eddie Spaghetti, a sardonic cowboy combining the wit of an intellectual
clown with the sexist rants of a deranged hillbilly.
On La Mano Cornuda, the band’s unholy brand of muscle car-Americana roars by so fast (13 songs, 26 minutes) that you’ll have trouble keeping up. From the raunchy power-pop-done-power-chord-style of “Creepy Jackalope Eye,” the hushed motör-punk of “High Ya!” and the ultra-sexist bulldozer pamphlet “She’s My Bitch,” the energy level and nonsense (firmly tongue in cheek, indeed) never lets up. Even though the band would prove to be capable of making very successful stylistic detours later on (1997’s Must’ve Been High is a full-fledged C&W-album), the variation on La Mano Cornuda is nada, with the possible exception of “On the Couch,” a semi-successful romp through pop-punk. Add the band’s endless series of telling song titles like “How to Maximize Your Kill Count,” “Mudhead” and “I Was Born without a Spine,” and you’ll know what to expect. Although they’d never grow up, the Supersuckers would diversify their sound later on and tone down the punk velocity, but if you don’t like this heap of white-hot devil’s music, chances are that you’re never gonna like them. That should suffice, so I’m off for a beer now.
Note: In typical nonsensical style, a hidden “track” contains all the songs, doubling the CD’s length.
The Sacrilicious Sounds of the Supersuckers (1995)
7
Bad Bad Bad / Born with a Tail / The 19th Most Powerful Woman in
Rock / Doublewide / Bad Dog / Money Into Sin / Marie / The Thing
About That / Ozzy / Run Like a Motherfucker / Hittin’
the Gravel / Stoned if You Want It / My Victim / Don’t Go Blue
Embracing
the belief that a band’s creative course is defined by its limitations,
the Supersuckers basically refused to grow up and turned in another beer-soaked
party album with a dual guitar assault, thundering drums and a whole lotta
nonsense as key ingredients. The biggest difference this time around is that
ex-Didjits Rick Sims temporarily replaced Ron Heathman, but also stylistically,
there’ve been some subtle shifts (never thought I’d use the word
“subtle” in a Supersuckers review). Whereas the Heathman-Bolton
tandem basically churned out high-octane garage punk, the direction is slightly
more altered into a hard rock-direction (with hints of glam now and then)
that’s less raucous and speedy than La Mano Cornuda. Luckily
producer Paul Leary (of Butthole Surfers fame) never heard of tasteful restraint,
so there’s no danger of the band suddenly becoming well-mannered and
behaved (the repeated “Motherfucker”-chanting of “Run Like
a Motherfucker” is guaranteed to crack you up). Thirteen out of fourteen
songs are about fat chords, flaming sideburns and a not-so-gentle kick in
the groin that’s ideally suited to set the local rowdy roadhouse on
fire, and as before, these smelly songs deal with exquisite matter such as
getting into fights, sex (does Eddie really sing “You can use my dick
for a walkin’ stick as well” in “Born with a Tail”?)
and other assorted “dudes-stuff.”
While the stress still lies on a punk-approach of traditional American rawk, like in opener “Bad Bad Bad” and “The Thing About That,” the band repeatedly slows down as well. Songs like “Doublewide,” “Marie” and “Hittin’ the Gravel” were basically designed for AC/DC-fans who’d like to hear something else for a change. Sometimes, the longer running times and slower pace involves a few average songs, like the unimaginative stomp of “Bad Dog” or “My Victim,” which, despite the surprising presence of horns, loses focus all too fast. But hey, as long as there are ridiculously FUN tracks, like the tribute “Ozzy” (“He’s got it made, black as a spade, he’s OZZYYYYYYYYYY”), the album’s should’ve-been-a-hit “Born with a Tail,” the straightforward riff-rock of “Stoned If You Want It” or Rick Sims’ irresistible blast “Run Like a Motherfucker,” complete with high-pitched whine, you’ll have nothing to complain about. On top of that: to justify the purchase you can always play the sleazy late night blues of “Don’t Go Blue” (“You might say I’m a bad seed, you can call me a jerk, that doesn’t stop me from doin’ the devil’s work”) that even your parents/grandparents might like. Less insane than La Mano Cornuda, but still as incorrect as they come, Sacrilicious is the second album by the Supersuckers that’s nearly as much fun as setting Phil Collins albums on fire.
Must’ve Been High (1997)
8
Must’ve Been High / Dead in the Water / Barricade / Roamin’
‘round / Hungover Together / Non-addictive Marijuana / The
Captain / Blow You Away / Roadworn and Weary / Hangin’ Out with
Me / Juicy Pureballs / One Cigarette Away / Hangliders
Even
though the Supersuckers had always had that outlaw image, a tendency to incorporate
country-ish elements (both stylistically and in the lyrics) and ‘famous”
allies such as Steve Earle (whom they backed on El Corazon’s “NYC”)
and Willie Nelson (whom they backed – I think – at Jay Leno’s
Tonight Show), few people were prepared for a full-fledged, full-length C&W-album,
which is exactly what Must’ve Been High is. From the album
cover to the instrumentation (Twang guitars! Banjo! Lonely harmonica! Fiddle!)
and collaborators (Jesse Dayton, Willie Nelson – referred to as “You
Know Who”), the album tries to convince the listener of its honesty,
while the liner notes add more about their intentions: “…it has
been our search for the best that rock-n-roll has to offer which has inevitable
led us down that old dirt road to the country. Simple (there’s that
word again) three chord songs, sung from experience, played on an old, beat
up acoustic guitar – that’s what we’re talkin’ about
here.” Although everything the Supersuckers say should be taken with
a grain of salt (just for safety’s sake), Must’ve Been High
was obviously made out of love for the genre and with a thorough knowledge
of its history. In these thirteen songs, we encounter sun-drenched deserts,
fights, boozin’ and drug abuse, wrapped in boom-chicka-boom,
western swing and even the obligatory duet.
While the title track already sets the tone with lonely campfire harmonica, Arizonian twang and weeping fiddle, the diversity of the first few songs becomes quite impressive. The concise country-billy of “Dead in the Water” is a fine showcase for the band’s sense of humor, “Barricade” is the first of several successful ballads, and the simple melancholy of “Roamin’ ‘round” is already a highlight after a few seconds. The band not only delves into a style and tradition that has been explored for more than half a century, but they manage to come up with material completely their own and melodies that stick. You probably could say there’s a fifty-fifty balance between upbeat stuff and introvert ballads, with the ballads often eclipsing the swifter fun tracks. With “Hungover Again,” Spaghetti and ex-Breeder Kelley Deal deliver a tearjerker that George and Tammy or Johnny and June would’ve been proud of, while the tex-mex flavoured “Roadworn and Weary” is exactly the stuff to play when you’re enjoying an ice-cold beer in hot and damp surroundings. Elsewhere, the band comes up with stuff the folks in Nashville probably won’t appreciate that much: “Non-Addictive Marijuana” is a hilarious tribute to drugs (“I like big shot of whiskey in the mornin’, and a big ole shot of coke in the afternoon, I’ll shoot whatever you got, but man you best got a lot”), whereas “Hangin’ Out with Me” a great take on Blasters-styled roots-rock, and “Blow You Away” a breakneck race through banjo-land. Not all the songs are that memorable: “The Captain” has already been done – in slightly different variations – by too many other bands, “Juicy Pureballs” explores Paladins-territory, but never really takes off, and on a lesser day you might catch me sayin’ that closer “Hangliders” is a merely semi-lazy 50’s-styled instrumental, but, for the most part Must’ve Been High is a whole lotta fun that can compete with the band’s best steroid-rock: it’s a funny, convincingly diverse album that expands a genre that’s usually quite conservative, but a bratty sense of humor and cojones the size of watermelons apparently can take you a long way.
Note: The album contains a hidden track, best described as a grotesque boogie from hell (“The Supersuckers Blues”??), that makes sure also Must’ve Been High ends with a big bang.
How the Supersuckers Became the Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World (1999)
7.5
Coattail Rider / Creepy Jackalope Eye / Born with a Tail / Luck
/ On the Couch / Doublewide / Hot Rod Rally / She’s My Bitch
/ Bad Bad Bad / Dead in the Water / How to Maximize Your Kill Count
/ Ron’s Got the Cocaine / Roadworn and Weary / Supersucker Drive-by
Blues / Givin’ It Away / All Right / Saddle Tramp / Can’t
Resist / Dead Homiez / Psyched Out / Hell City, Hell / Before They
Make Me Run / Bloody Mary Morning / Wake Me When It’s Over / Good Livin’
/ Monkey / Beat to Shit
Take
a look at the song titles above and I bet some of them (“She’s
My Bitch,” “Saddle Tramp,” “Dead Homiez” and
“Beat to Shit”) will make you wonder what there’s possibly
to like about this band. Well, I’ll tell you (but don’t let the
band know you’re in on a secret): it’s the irony. As
I suggested in another review, these fuckos are smart: they can play, come
up with lyrics that contain so many double entendres they’ll make Steven
Tyler and Brian Johnson blush, and know like no other band how to fuck around
with machismo, a mock-moronic attitude and your traditional hard rock imagery
(women, liquor, drugs, the occasional muscle car). On the other hand, it’s
also very possible they are exactly the kind of pigs they act out
with such a generous dose of (fake) irony. Whatever their true intent is,
I doubt that anyone cares, except for their mothers. How the Supersuckers
Became the Greatest Rock and Roll Band in the World does exactly what
it promises, as it traces the band’s career on Sub-Pop by offering a
bunch of tracks from their first four albums, while adding 13 bonus tracks
that appeared on different occasions and formats (singles, split EP’s,
a soundtrack) and two new cuts (“Givin’ It Away” and “Beat
to Shit”). What it all amounts to is 66 minutes of muscular and simple
rock ‘n’ roll that sings the praise of substance abuse, unapologetic
misogyny and every other vice imaginable. It’s the devil’s music,
indeed.
Unavoidably, some first-rate cuts didn’t make it, but overall, most of the songs that did make it onto the compilation are good examples of the band’s blend of punk and hard rock. “Creepy Jackalope Eye,” with its priceless “this album is dedicated to the good fuckers and those who want to be good fuckers”-introduction, was an obvious pick, as are “She’s My Bitch” and the country tunes “Dead in the Water” and “Roadworn and Weary” from Must’ve Been High. The quality of the oddities is more uneven, but a handful of them would’ve fit nicely on any of the first three albums, with the AC/DC-styled “Saddle Tramp” (a romp through “Let There Be Rock” and back) and “Psyched Out” (from the Baseketball-soundtrack as the prize winners. Here and there, a lesser one rears its ugly head, like the awkward cover of Ice Cube’s “Dead Homiez” (yes, you read that correctly), the ugly hangover blues of “Wake Me When It’s Over” or the average rocker “Beat to Shit.” Interesting is also the band’s take on Willie Nelson’s “Bloody Mary Morning” and a rather underwhelming cover of the Stones’ “Before They Make Me Run” they recorded with roots-rocker Steve Earle on vocals. If the band’s first few albums weren’t your thing to begin with, there’s no reason for you to check this compilation out (get back to your Enya album, Debbie!), but if you wanna hear what they were doing before 1999’s The Evil Powers of Rock ‘n’ Roll (which is where you should start), it’s the ideal place to grab a generous helping of filth.
The Evil Powers of Rock ‘n’ Roll (1999)
8.5
The Evil Powers of Rock ‘n’ Roll / Cool Manchu / I Want
the Drugs / Santa Rita High / Dead Meat / Stuff ‘n’ Nonsense
/ Dirt Roads, Dead Ends & Dust / Fisticuffs / Gone Gamblin’
/ My Kickass Life / Goin’ Back to Tucson / I Can’t Hold
Myself in Line / Hot Like the Sun
Interviewer:
“Would you say that your songs are about … liquor, women, drugs
and killing, for the most part?”
Eddie Spaghetti: “Yep.”
That’s how “I Want the Drugs,” one of the best samples of hilarious speed-rock these ears of mine have ever heard starts off, before unleashing the band’s immense energy and insanely breakneck-pace for less than 80 seconds. If this cut hadn’t already reassured you that the Supersuckers are back (I mean B-A-C-K!) to rock, the remainder of the album will take care of that. Even though they hadn’t released a rock ‘n’ roll album of new stuff in the four years since Sacrilicious, their fifth studio album is a full-frontal assault on your ears, guts and sense of taste. It’s got some of the best songs the band’s already come up with and coupled to the slick but powerful production by Kurt Bloch, it results in their most accessible, enjoyable and successful cocktail of hard rock and punk yet. There’s still no refinement, barely any introspection and still no resemblance to Mogwai, Smog or The Flaming Lips, but hey, fuck it. These guys deal in plain, fist-pumping rock that’s supposed to give you bad ideas. Just listen to the title track, a ridiculously catchy riff-rocker that’s more exciting (sleazy and beer-soaked!) than the entire Genesis-catalogue (who basically had different goals, I give you that) and one that tells you why rock ‘n’ roll is one of the greatest inventions of the century. When I saw these guys play live, I was hardly familiar with the band, but in a way, they’re the kind of band that makes you forget your troubles, the past and the future. Hedonism for the here and now, delivered with a smirk, sideburns and a gigantic middle finger. Jesus, it made me feel fifteen and want to kill an entire country (what about Germany?). Ever get this feeling, or it is just me?
Anyway, to turn this rambling into an excuse for a review: the title track and “I Want the Drugs” are the most outrageous highlights, but there’s more to enjoy for you decibel-freaks out there, as “Cool Manchu” and “Gone Gamblin’” are among the most tremendous AC/DC-tributes you’ll ever hear, with Spaghetti’s raspy vocals being the ideal addition to the greasy guitar attack of Ron Heathman and Dan “Thunder” Bolton. Equally impressive is also “Goin’ Back to Tucson,” which starts off as a seemingly average poppy hard rock song, but has one of their best melodies: melancholy and big chords, quite the combination if you know how to stir them. Whereas I consider these few songs nearly essential in any lover of straight rock’s compilation (and they’re among the best things the band’s ever done), the remainder of the album’s not earth-shattering, but enjoyable as hell. The boogie-by-way-of-punk “Fisticuffs” will have you stand spread-legged and play air Gibson in less than ten seconds, the nostalgic roots-rock of “Santa Rita High” and the chugging “Dirt Roads, Dead Ends & Dust” are where the band gives you some time the breath, while the hard-hitting “Dead Meat” and the Ramones-styled “I Can’t Get Hold Myself in Line” are the kind of stuff that gives punk a good name. Granted, maybe my sheer excitement makes me overrate these last songs, but once in a while this simplicity is exactly what I need. Some albums have the capacity to ruin your evening, just because they’re so goddamn beautiful of touching, whereas others don’t leave much of an impression afterwards. The Evil Powers of Rock ‘n’ Roll – probably one of the best sheer FUN albums of the nineties - won’t kick-start discussions about the meaning of life or the usefulness of a vinyl copy of Jethro Tull’s A Passion Play (as a side-table, for instance), but when it’s playing, it’s indeed ROCK ‘N’ ROLL ADRENALIN GUARANTEED.
The Songs All Sound the Same (2002)
6.5
(the bonus stuff lifts it up to a 7)
Alright / Saddletramp / Poor / Burnin’ Up / Burnin’ Up / Gravity Bill / Sex and Outrage / What Love Is / Junk / Four Stroke / Girl I Know // Luck / I Say Fuck / Second Cousin / Razzmanazz
After
The Evil Powers of Rock ‘n’ Roll, these Arizonian keepers
of the rock ‘n’ roll flame decided to start up and run their own
label (the aptly titled Mid-Fi Recordings), “…partially
just because we can and largely because we feel like the time is right for
us to be callin’ all of the shots around here. If there's one
thing we've learned in our dozen or so years of being the Supersuckers it's
that no one in the "biz" cares half as much as we do about our music
and our fans.” (taken trom the official
press statement) To celebrate this joyful event, the label’s firstborn
was a re-release of their first recordings (which had been out of print for
a long, long time) called The Songs All Sound Same. While the title
isn’t exactly accurate (there’s one hell of a difference between
the mid-tempo hard rock of “Poor” and the furious 18 trailer thrash
seconds (!) of “Allright”), the band’s famous blend of Ramones
and Hank Williams was already in full effect. The majority of these songs
were released as singles and B-sides prior to their debut album The Smoke
of Hell (1992) and sometimes do sound like the product of raw talent,
with some average songs thrown in – they’d get so much
better at that fist-pumpin’ blend of punk and hard rock of “Girl
I Know,” “Poor,” and “Junk” a few years down
the road.
However, the band also tackle a few nifty covers: Motörhead’s “Sex and Outrage” certainly doesn’t come as a surprise, and the band deliver with a respectful straightforwardness, while also the filthy garage punk of The Dead Boys’ “What Love Is” is a winner. Less expected are a hard-rockin’ cover of Madonna’s “Burnin’ Up” (from her 1983 debut album), an infectious – if overly long – example of their adolescent sense of humor, and the album’s closer, a cover of Nazareth’s “Razamanaz” (here called “Razzmanazz” – yes, that’s just a detail). It not only shows that the band’s method isn’t that far removed from classic ‘70’s hard rock, but what makes it especially memorable is its absurd 21 minute-long finale. You know when the musicians come to the end of the song and torture their strings over and over again in unison (more or less), letting the drummer freak out and waiting for his sign to finish it? Well, they do that for an insane twenty minutes (turning a 50 minute album in a bit more than half an hour of enjoyment). That’s the type of guys the Supersuckers are. Anyway, the cool thing about this re-release of The Songs All Sound the Same is the bonus stuff: “Luck” and “I Say Fuck” were already included on The Smoke of Hell, but they also added a no-nonsense version of The Flamin’ Groovies’ retro-rocker “Second Cousin,” a song about Jerry Lee Lewis. Spaghetti’s raspy vocals aren’t as much fun as Loney’s original yelp, but it sure beats Sting’s music for people who don’t like music. It’s is by far the most uneven Supersuckers-album, plus the majority of the songs got a rather scruffy sound, but the extra media make it worth checking out, as this release also contains a bunch of pictures from the early days (Jello Biafra helping them to load their gear), as well as a video that shows the guys in action on stage. You’d have to use violence to hear me say it’s an indispensable release, but if you’re a sucker for their medieval approach in its early stages, then this stuff won’t disappoint. Even at their most inconsistent, the ‘Suckers are still pretty OK.
General comments: Dan Portrait (USA):
|
Motherfuckers Be Trippin’
7.5
Rock-n-Roll Records (Ain’t Selling This Year) / Rock Your Ass
/ Pretty Fucked Up / The Fight Song / Bruises to Prove It / Bubblegum and
Beer / Sleepy Vampire / A Good Night for My Drinkin’ /
Damn My Soul / Someday I Will Kill You / The Nowhere Special / Goodbye
WHAT
THE HELL WAS I THINKIN’? Mr. Portrait above might have a point
after all. Basically, only one review (without a rating) on this page would’ve
done, as long as it said that the band kicks out the jams like few other bands,
regularly fabricates the best synergy of AC/DC’s primal power, Motörhead’s
vicious attack and traditional country’s preference for everyday themes
(a broken heard and an empty bottle) with a fuck ‘em all-attitude
that’s, uh, refreshing. Instead of endless series of song descriptions,
I only should’ve replaced the songs, because … there’s only
so many ways of making a hamburger: as long as there’s meat, a bun and
some ketchup, the customer will be satisfied. Still, it’s always fun
when you can pin down another reference. I’ve never really understood
why critics compared the band to Cheap Trick (yeah, they have hooks, so
what?) or Thin Lizzy (a twin guitar attack? Yeah, so?), but on this album,
it does make sense, as I can imagine Rick Nielsen & Co. tearing
through “The Nowhere Special,” while Phil Lynott would have been
proud of several of the melodies here (and check out the solo section of “A
Good Night for My Drinkin’”). Anyway, the Motörsuckers have
delivered another pleasing romp through Macholand that you’ll dig if
you’ve been convinced thev were the best bar band in existence for the
past decade or so.
Opening track “Rock-n-Roll Records” belongs in the pantheon of their best songs, as it’s a hard-rocking and hilarious perception of the state of the contemporary music business, more concerned about image and media appeal than scorching riffs and fist-pumping anthems from a few sleazebags. The remainder of the first half rarely reaches the same level: “Rock Your Ass” and “Bruises to Prove It” are big anthems that deliver what’s expected and nothing more, the catchy “Pretty Fucked Up” would’ve been a modern rock classic if it weren’t so dang repetitive, and the hooligan chant “The Fight Song” is, well, a bit too stupid for it’s own good. BUT: it’s made up for by the excellent second half, which starts with one of the best songs they ever did. “Sleepy Vampire” is this album’s “Goin’ Back to Tucson,” an irresistible, minor-chord rocker that’ll find a way to the back of your head and won’t get out for the next few weeks. Furthermore, “A Good Night for My Drinkin’” has a kick-ass vocal melody and an unlikely Cypress Hill-reference (I think), while “Damn My Soul” is a lethally charged bulldozer of a song. “The Nowhere Special” is excellent sing-along punk, “Someday I Will Kill You” an energy bomb Lemmy would approve of and the fast & furious “Goodbye” a hilarious way to exit. The Supersuckers still don’t take themselves seriously (just check out the “Parental Advisory: Explicit Title”-warning on the cover and the motherfuckin’ liner notes which crack me up like a motherfucker) and you shouldn’t either, but as far as good-natured rock ‘n’ roll goes, the band will never let you down. God bless The Supersuckers for that.
From the Audio/Video Dept., Live in Anaheim DVD (2004)
7.5
DVD: Rock-N-Roll Records (Ain't Selling This Year) / Rock Your Ass / Bad Bad
Bad / Barricade / The Evil Powers of Rock-N-Roll / Creepy Jackalope Eye /
Bruises to Prove It / Supersucker Drive-By Blues / Mudhead / Must've Been
High (not mentioned on cover) / Pretty Fucked Up / I Want the Drugs
/ Luck / Dirt Roads, Dead Ends and Dust / Fisticuffs / One Cigarette Away
/ Goodbye / Born with a Rail / Non-Addictive Marujuana
Bonus Live CD: Dead in the Water / Captain / Creepy Jackalope Eye / Double Wide / Sail On / Barricade / Marie / Pretty Fucked Up / Killed Weed / Drivin' Nails in My Coffin / The Image o Me / Born with a Tail
It
seems that the boys are seriously intending to leave behind a serious legacy,
as this live DVD (+ bonus live CD) was already the third one of the Mid-Fi
Field Recordings series in about a year. That's pretty generous towards
the fans, but maybe it's also to cover up the fact they've only released one
new studio album the past six years (the recently released Devil's Food
is basically a collection of non-album tracks that previously appeared in
other versions or on the live albums). Whatever the intention behind it may
be (they'll happily admit they're shameless capitalists, so don't worry about
that), I have fond memories of the Supersuckers as a live band, so what could
go wrong, right? Well, nothing really does, but I can imagine this live performance
isn't exactly an eye-opener for a newcomer. The liner notes mention a few
classic live performances - Live and Dangerous, Let There Be Rock and
It's Alive and that's quite smart, as nobody else in his right mind
would place this release on the same pedestal as those three. The liner notes
also mention that this show finally was chosen since they played a pretty
tight without too many mistakes and this is definitely the case. Even
though the band has always had this bad boys-attitude - and the countless
songs about women, liquor, killing and drugs to go with that - the set is
surprisingly sober, straight and workmanlike. Of course Eddie Spaghetti doesn't
forget to mention that the audience is witnessing the greatest rock 'n' roll
band in the world in action (and yes, he still gets away with it) and yes,
the devil's horns and victorious grins are there, but occasionally they're
also going through the motions. Maybe it's the surprisingly well-mannered
audience or the size of the venue - but it seems as if they're not giving
their all. That said, the 50-minute set contains several highlights from their
career that are delivered with energy and that eternal smirk - "The Evil Powers
of Rock 'n' Roll," 'Creepy Jackalope Eye," "I Want the Drugs," "Born with
a Tail," etc - as well as a few oldies ("Luck" from their debut) and country
tunes recorded during a show in San Diego ("Barricade," "Must've Been High,"
"One Cigarette Away"). The band plays extremely disciplined, while interim
drummer Mike Murderburger (yep) delivers an excellent performance. The DVD
also features a few extras: there's a short acoustic solo performance of Eddie
at one of the Amoeba record stores, as well as a few typically nonsensical
interviews with the band members conducted by Eddie ("Invisibility or flight?").
The bonus live CD that's included is a damn fine gift for those who dig the
band's excursions into C&W, with songs propelled by chugging boom-chicka-boom
rhythms, pedal steel and bearing typical titles like "Killer Weed," 'Dead
in the Water" and "Drivin' Nails in My Coffin." The generousness of including
the CD is a nice addition to the brief DVD, but again, the hardcore fans will
probably be biting their nails off, anxiously waiting for something NEW that
isn't the second Spaghetti album appearing at the end of this year.
Read album reviews of similar or related artists: AC/DC