Friday, 2 September 2011

Slick Cheats At Their Own Game (And A Friday Cover Up!)

Cheater Slicks and I go way back - waaaaaaaaay back. Right back to the heady days of late 2010 (to be honest, they were pretty heady). My soon to be brother from another mother Si and I were talking about the ace Sex Church, and Si couldn't understand why they got all the props and Cheater Slicks didnt - carbon copy, he said; before their time, he said. I told him I didnt understand a lick of his conversation, and although Im sure he wanted to glass me, he instead took a deep breath and played me some records - Whiskey and Refried Brains (both put out by In The Red Records, 1993 and 1999 respectively). I got understandably rabid and begged to know what their new album was called. Si, finally with the ascendancy he needs to stay so youthful (a form of vampiric narcissism, if you will), laughed down at me, scoffing all the while that I didnt know true music...

OK, it didnt quite happen that way - he still glassed me - but Si has an extremely valid point. Over the past few year the modern garage rock/punk movement has coalesced into this all-pervading force that, whilst it wont break out into the masses to wash away the sins of modern pop music - let's face it, nothing will - and it something I am eternally grateful for. But this Columbus, Ohio act have been the blueprint of this resurgence, and they have been kicking around since 1987, putting down anywhere between 15 and 25 records (depending who you asked and how fucked up they are) of dirty, visceral, lo-fi, gritty, bad-ass garage rock tunes that swing from spiky gutpunchers to squalling leviathans of skewed shoegaze/no wave noise, all of it sloppy, all of it awesome.

Just the other day Our Food Is Chaos hit the stands, a lost album of sorts 1989 that is just now finding the light of day. It showcases the trio at their most primal and sleazoid, strutting around in a trashed alleyway waiting to steal your innocence. Its a hypo needle to the eardrums, a boot stomped into the soul, before they drag you back up on your feet, pour that cheap whiskey down your throat and grab you in a headlock, blood brothers once more. And for that reason, it is a great listen, distilling the virtues (or lack thereof) of the band perfectly, as well as showcasing why Allen Paulino (bassist) is dropped from the equation - not that he is bad, but that Cheater Slicks are much much better without him. A dirty bit o soup for the soul.

What's more, the Slicks cover Murphy & The Mob's fuzzy 'Born Loser' - so these ace Bostonians (relocated to Ohio, of course) get two accolades to finish out the Friday!

NB: Si, I love you man. This one's for you.

Cheater Slicks - Dark Night
Cheater Slicks - Born Loser

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