Artist: CoCoComa
Album: Things Are Not All Right (2009)
Label: Goner Records

Writing about music – even very good music – can be irritating as hell. A record might be the second coming of the Stones, but if it calls into question any of the base and vaguely hateful generalizations that serve me so beautifully, I’m bummed.

For example, CoCoComa’s Bill and Lisa Roe’s Goner Records sophomore effort, Things Are Not All Right, has demonstrated that (A) mid-western, librarian mothers can shred on six-strings, and (B) thirty-something, Ben Gibbard-looking dudes can, against all odds, actually be cool.

And thanks for that, guys. The Decemberists are stoked.

Well, married, librarian, or whatever, CoCoComa’s latest is better than good. Things Are Not All Right is clearly the product of a band whose members have drawn enough insight from extensive record collections to understand the value of playing to one’s strengths. CoCoComa’s power-pop is tempered with a bar band bent that is exuberant without being grating, finding a happy balance between the DC5, Mummies, and the more straightforward songs from the Boomtown Rats.

This album engages pop music almost antagonistically, as if it were seditious to make music for the sake of fun. This is a band that forces a good time while shouting about how much your life sucks. But as pessimistic as this album might seem, I believe the bright sound points not to a cynical group, but intelligent music-lovers with an eye for bullshit. And they needn’t look far these days.

Simply put: this record is at once both a riot and thoughtful. Now, fun is not something typically associated with ‘mature’ songwriting. But CoCoComa has managed to record these ten tracks with a youthfulness that gives life to their adult writing perspective. They keep the formula simple and the hooks catchy, never risking a good time with ill-advised tangents.

It is also important to note how well the production complements the songwriting. The album has been mixed with clarity in mind, never overbearing or underwhelming. This modest approach to production value holds a lesson for the glut of young musicians being encouraged by the current (and unfortunate) low-fi-favoring blogger bubble.

This recent deluge of superfluous ‘v’ and ‘y’ branded duos has arrived under the mistaken assumption that ’sounding like shit’ is the motivation for analog recording. Of course, low-fi done correctly is about warmth and aesthetic. Older bands that had no other choice but to record “low-fi” certainly weren’t trying to sound like static shit. And CoCoComa understands this. You can actually hear their goddamn songs.

Now, this is not a perfect record. The song structure is so uniform throughout that tracks lose distinction and tend to blur as the album progresses. This is not to say that the individual tracks on Side-B are lacking (they aren’t), but only that the listener is at risk of tuning out. Thankfully, at ten cuts, CoCoComa does not overstay their welcome.

Occasional departures from the familiar might have created more contrast. In future releases, I’d like to see CoCoComa complement their sound with the occasional detour into territory of The Fall and Chairs Missing-era Wire. “Suspicious” is suggestive of such staccato, ‘chop and stomp’ moments. This sort of expansion might improve upon CoCoComa’s tight, but ultimately limited formula.

In Things Are Not All Right, CoCoComa has written a record that should dismiss the trite arguments that garage punk as a genre is an exhausted, pretentious echo from better times. And all for the sake of a good time. Yeah, CoCoComa’s got your party…

…until eight o’clock when their daughter goes to sleep. After that it’s Matlock.

BUY IT.

Attack Attack! is now 0-2 for fat, retarded singers. We’re stoked.

Looks like Pilsbury finally snapped out of it and walked out of the mall and into the sunset. Here’s team crab-core’s official statement:

Why hello boys and girls!

Thought we’d throw you all a quick little update about what’s currently going on in the AA! lineup. The band and Nick parted ways recently in a mutually agreed non-explosive fashion, which we all believe is the best for both sides.

Caleb is going to retire his keys and start screaming in the front of the band. We DO NOT have a new person in our band. Don’t worry, our music will still be full of Caleb’s programming, keys, and all the good things he concocts. It will just be back-tracked live with the 808 samples and other nonsense on my iPod.

Anyways, we’re not gonna stop touring, playing shows, and having a generally wonderful time with all of you.

See you in your town soon!

Now, while an explosive departure of the napalm variety would have been preferable, we here at Buddyhead are in mutual agreement that one less fork in the dick of Rock & Roll is for the best.

But just so we have this straight…you homos could’ve had one less fat ass on stage THIS ENTIRE TIME? Really? It’s 2009, the music industry is dying, and Attack Attack! have been funneling thousands of dollars worth of calories into the feedbag of a dick whistler whose keyboard can PLAY ITSELF?

This sort of mindless, recessionary waste makes us hope terrorists from a starving country behead the remaining crabs with butter knives covered in fire ants.

And fuck, dorks. If you’re still in enough denial to keep on with this garbage, why not just “backtrack” ALL of your diarrhea onto a fucking iPod? No way do the stage hands like mopping up all the liquefied Crisco that comes streaming out of your pores during those bunny hops. Why not let idiot parents pay for their idiot kids to go watch your iPod live? That way you wouldn’t have to limit your food breaks to three per set.

At any rate, we’d like to extend our deepest condolences to ex-crab Nick Barham. Given that your fat ass probably broke the rock on the way to the bottom, we have no fucking idea how low you must feel right now. We’re sure It’s a bummer, Nicky.

And the next couple of years are going to be rough, kiddo. Every time you squat for a dump, all of that hot, middle school gash you mangled is gonna flash before your eyes.

But those 13-year-old bitches didn’t like you for you anyway, mah crab.

So just know, Nick, that there’s a whole new world out there for you now. It’s alive with slimfast, GEDs, Rolling Stones records, a fast food industry that’s still hiring, and genuine opportunities to reform into an actual person. We just hope you don’t fuck up your clean slate by concocting something gayer to do.

Unfortunately, after watching Nick’s now classic interview below, we can’t put anything past him.

Attack Attack Interview HARDTIMES.CA

HARDTIMES.CA | MySpace Video

You better appreciate this shitty interview, because it nearly didn’t happen.

When the publicist for the festival we were at heard me say “Buddyhead”, she aged ten years right on the spot. At first, I thought she just wanted a date, but then I saw all of the star tattoos and a ‘Fat Wreck Chords’ logo on her business card and knew she was bummed.

Home girl was angrier than a crust punk in a bathtub:

“Oh. Buddyhead’s back? Ya’ll talked a lot of shit.

Thanks to DJ Travis Keller’s amazing people skills, I was locked the fuck OUT.

[Editor's Note: Buddyhead nuked this bitter publicist for shitty music in Torture Device VS Fat Wreck Chords.]

But given that I refuse to be shut out of free food, I took the most logical recourse and befriended an extremely grizzled ex-Navy Seal named Wes. He lives in a shifty trailer near some shifty woods with a wife half his age and a metric ton of weightlifting equipment.

Since Wes and Buddyhead are both about REAL TALK, he infiltrated the festival production office black ops style and swiped us some artist bands. In return, we fed him beers until he beat the HOLY HELL out of a train-hopping crust punk who pissed in front of his kids.

This beating started a chain reaction of rad that would end with Wes threatening idiot hipsters with an axe (the same axe adjacent to King Khan in this video, in fact. Good thing he didn’t do any of that weird pissing-on-people stuff). By the end of the night, that trailer was covered in pigs, crybabies, and police tape.

It’s cool though. Our boy Wes showed up smiling the next day, saying he played video games all night in jail. WES CAN’T NOT GO OFF!

(Attention hipster and crust punk faggots: I dislike you very much, but would rather not see a goddamn axe stuck in your haircut. So, hipsters, if you look at a trailer and see someone who looks like this:

…please know that there isn’t any irony or Animal Collective box sets waiting for you inside. Just go find something organic and count your blessings.

And crust punks, you’re not gonna “freak out” a stone-cold killer with an award-winning ponytail like he’s another old person at your rich parent’s dinner party. Go cut your wrist with a broken Casualties LP instead. It’ll hurt less.)

Now, as for King Khan, I don’t believe he was aware of any of this. Homeboy was too busy trying to get the hell away from us.

Our ‘Chief Nerd Officer’ Vishal Agarwala kept begging to be called “Prince Khan” and wouldn’t stop quoting Bollywood movies.

Bummer.

King Khan rules. Buy his album.

Yes, this is the goddamn gayest thing you’ll ever see. And no, there’s not a vaccine.

The bummer’s gone pandemic:

If only these fools would develop some kind of sudden onset arthritis that freezes them in an invisible dildo squat. Imagine the joy of watching Attack Attack! scuttle around the mall scoping 13-year-old tail in full on crab-squat mode! And just wait till the fans start copying. Watching that apocalyptic freak show would beat winning the lottery.

And hey, John Holgado: you should really think this over, buddy. If every shameful squat is just money in the bank, why not do that shit all day long? When your fans turn 17, no one’s gonna be returning those calls. Might as well get paid while you can, mah crab.

Since those of you NOT responsible for killing music and putting clothes on poodles are most likely gonna jump off a bridge now, I might as well give you that last shove:

Can someone PLEASE get Missy Elliot to swing on these hooker sluts until there’s no more white left?

Jay Reatard’s touring band quit on him today. He took a break from tweeting burrito updates to drop the news:

Band quit ! Fuck them ! They are boring rich kids who can’t play for ahit anyways .. Say hello to your ugly and boring wifes opps I mean lifes guys suck it

Now, I could listen to a fat person talk about food all day long, but there’s only so many times I can take Jay’s custom exclamation point usage. Hey, Jay ! It’s fucking annoying when you type like an illiterate 12-year-old girl !

At any rate, the reason for Jay’s band mate’s departure hasn’t been made clear yet, but maybe something similar to this caused it:

Bummer. Looks like the crowd caught some of that Reatarded stream.

For the sake of objectivity, we’re gonna make like a spokesman for the pigs and say “the video doesn’t tell the entire story.” I mean, there’s not even a dick in this video! How the hell did he pee? This is the first ever family-friendly golden shower video!

Even more bewildering is the guitarist’s reaction. If a methed-up gorilla peed on me, I don’t think I would retaliate by dancing around in fireworks like a fruitcake. I’d probably get vaccinated and take a shower. Maybe even fire a warning shot.

There are also rumors of a fight between the pee-target and Jay following the set. Reports say that Jay tried to break a bottle over the firework dancer’s head, and when that didn’t work, proceeded to poke him in the chest with it instead. A fight followed.

Fighting is the smartest thing anyone can do. Right up there with peeing on another human being. Or calling your band mate’s wife ugly…on the Internet !

Now, the video above wasn’t Jay’s touring band- that was the Reatard’s reuniting for Goner Fest. But with that kinda shit going on in a band he’s not even in anymore, who the fuck knows what kinda nasty shit he did to make his touring band quit. Other than that whole putting their cocks in his mouth while they’re sleeping and calling it “a joke” thing, of course. But everyone knows that already, and if his band mates didn’t like it, they wouldn’t have put up with him for as long as they did.

Who knows.

If you wanna huff on some midnight dong (it’s hilarious!), Jay’s looking:

So who wants to see just how terrible it is to play in my band . I mean its so so hard I promise its the worst :) Jayreatard@gmail.com

L.A.s own Big Business are hitting up the West Coast, playing a San Diego date with Melt Banana and a Halloween party in L.A. with Tweak Bird and 400 Blows.

Hey dudes…why don’t you just can that Nomad show and join Dios, Darker My Love and The Night Marchers at the Buddyhead Halloween Party?

Go off and go deaf:

10.31 Los Angeles, CA – The Nomad Gallery (with 400 Blows, Tweak Bird)
11.01 San Diego, CA – The Casbah (with Melt Banana)
11.02 San Francisco, CA – Bottom of the Hill
11.04 Portland, OR – Berbati’s Pan
11.05 Seattle, WA – El Corazon

If you ever liked Thom Yorke’s weird little stage dances before, you won’t after seeing Flea get down next to him with the white-boy-sandal-funk bro stepping. And a lot of that was going on last night during ‘The Thom Yorke And Flea Experience’s’ Echoplex Debut. “Don’t Be Lame” is our favorite Flea quote from his instructional how to play bass VHS. Check it out!

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZILSRswCNdE]

Material from Thom Yorke’s solo album, The Eraser, comprised the majority of Not-Radiohead’s set. New material was performed during two encores, the first of which had Thom Yorke playing solo renditions of new tracks “Open the Floodgates”, “Lotus Flower”, “Skirting on the Surface”, and “Judge, Jury, Executioner”.

It all sounded like Radiohead b-sides and Flea was totally doing that head-bobbing thing he does, but at least there wasn’t any slap bass.

The follow-up encore saw the band performing “The Hollow Earth” and “Feeling Pulled Apart by Horses”- two songs from Yorke’s upcoming 12″ single.

Doesn’t sound like there was any slap bass, but there was definitely some jive world-beats going all over the place, so you know Flea is stoked. Hey Flea, Buddyhead knows who your new guitar player is… pay us and we won’t blow the whistle on you.

At Ease has the set-list:

01 The Eraser
02 Analyse
03 The Clock
04 Black Swan
05 Skip Divided
06 Atoms for Peace
07 And It Rained All Night
08 Harrowdown Hill
09 Cymbal Rush

Encore one [Thom solo]:

10 Open the Floodgates
11 Lotus Flower
12 Skirting on the Surface
13 Judge, Jury, Executioner

Encore two [full band]:

14 Paperbag Writer
15 The Hollow Earth
16 Feeling Pulled Apart by Horses

So, The Black Lips Homophobes released a video for “Let It Grow”. Someone told us that it involved a really high fat dude who thinks he’s an alien (Roky Erikson-style) sticking a full-face muzzle on a cat and leaving it in the desert. And animal cruelty would like, totally go with all of the Black Lips’ homophobias and sexisms and racisms and stuff, ya know? Cuz the desert’s way too hot for a cat cuz of global warming and stuff.

We totally didn’t watch the video though, cuz, like, one of them said, ‘F*****’, which is totally inexcusable cuz it’s the fucking nineties and this is totally the internet, man. And the next time the Black Lips play a Brooklyn pool party, we’re. not. even. gonna. go. TOTAL BOYCOTT. I mean haven’t these hillbillies heard? Gay is the new gay, man.

Faggots.

VIA OUR DROOGS!

The Raveonettes have a new video for “Last Dance”, the single off their upcoming album In And Out Of Control out 10/6 on VICE. Check it out:

Today, we’ve been given a gift, and yet an unacceptable amount of cynicism is being directed toward the idea of bands killing each other. And on the internet.

Do you anonymous blog posters have hearts? Did the late 90’s leave you so terribly jaded, that you can’t see the good in Black Lips VS Wavves?

Well, it’s time to reflect on the fact that torching posers – even calling them faggots – is truly an act of charity; Rock & Roll feuds, a manifestation of giving.

Our buddy Ruban Nielsen, the guitarist for the Mint Chicks, and his friend ‘the Ost’ (some weird New Zealand thing, I guess) created the illustration that’s about to brighten your day. The cartoon originally appeared in a NZ mag called Real Groove as a substitute for Chris Knox’s monthly cartoon, which the good man couldn’t draw on account of his stroke. These boys submitted their artwork so that Chris could receive his fee for that month.

Yes, by nuking crab-core, Ruban and Ost helped Chris Knox in a time of need. And it’s choking me up.

Maybe if the Mint Chicks get out their chainsaws and declare all-out war on the Warped Tour, Chris Knox will fully recover. I’d like to think it’s worth a try.

Plus, if they prove that nuking pussies is equivalent to a walk-a-thon for cancer, then Buddyhead just became Mother Theresa.

Thanks, guys: