Hey everybody —

Happy almost-Fourth-of-July! It seems that with Independence Day being observed on a Friday, the whole week becomes a wash, so if you’re reading this from your place of work, I commend you on your dedication (well, sort of: what are you doing reading a blog when you should be working?).

Anyway, in honor of Our Great Nation’s Birthday, I thought it would be appropriate to share a record by one of the most patriotic, unabashedly America-Loving bands I could think of. Yes, that’s right: the Dead Kennedys. Why, they’ve even got a President’s name in their band name! And look, the cover of this record shows the fearless boys of the U.S. Army in action! (I think they’re probably dragging a mannequin to the Army Fashion Show.) Um… right?

All right, so maybe Jello and the boys aren’t exactly “love it or leave it” Toby Keith types, but you can’t say they’re not engaged citizens, unafraid to critique their government and exercise their First Amendment rights to the hilt. And what could be more American than that?

The single “Bleed for Me” was released in 1982, and its lyrics are a scathing indictment of U.S. foreign policy and its contribution to death squads and dirty wars across the globe. Having read up recently on U.S.-backed regimes in Argentina and the Dominican Republic, I can, sadly, vouch for the accuracy of this song’s harsh, terrifying lyrics. Without getting too preachy, here’s hoping that the habit of citizens to question our government’s actions is helping to move us in a more enlightened direction as a nation.

All right, enough of that: let’s all go drink some beer and watch stuff blow up!

You know what’s weird? I grew up in Boston, and the years I was starting to get more into music from independent labels with electric guitars and such were the very years Blake Babies were most active around Boston. And yet… I never really listened to them. I heard their name all the time, and maybe heard a song here or there on WZBC or WHRB, and of course Juliana Hatfield ended up becoming more of a household name (at least in Boston), but for whatever reason Blake Babies were not a part of my collection. I’m listening to 1990’s Sunburn right now, and I probably would have dug it at the time: jangly guitars, earnest vocals, clever lyrics, just enough of an edge to feel somewhat “alternative.” Ah well, I guess it wasn’t to be. Luckily for the BBs, the music directors and DJs of college stations such as KCMU were paying more attention:

And now, enjoy this oh-so-1990 video for the song “Out There”:

If you’re anything like me, you probably have a CD or two — or have recorded a CD or two — employing the use of the toy piano. There’s something about those tinny, slightly-out-of-tune little wonders that can add just the right light-hearted touch of melody to a song. So, yeah; toy pianos, been there, done that. But how about a whole band composed of toy instruments? If it’s been done in the past 20 years, I haven’t heard about it, but in 1987, Rounder Records released an album by a band from New York called Pianosaurus whose instrumentation was entirely of the toy variety, found in thrift stores and toy stores. And you know what? It’s pretty good! (And, for the record, not kid’s music — or at least not directed at kids.) I would go on, but the comments on this record are unusually informative and thorough, so I’ll just let the KCMU peops speak for themselves:

And here the orouboros that is Review Revue/college radio/independent music made by weirdos at last swallows its tail. About a year and a half ago, I posted this thorough dissection of the Young God EP by the band Swans. Released in 1984, this record was so influential that a couple years later one Swiss band decided to name their band after it, and went on to become quite influential in their own right (being name-checked by David Bowie, Mike Patton, The Edge, and others), and to continue to release records to the present day. I give you… The Young Gods, and their debut album, The Young Gods.

OK, I’ll admit it — there’s not a huge amount of commentary on the cover of this fine, fine slab of vinyl. But Bitch Magnet’s Ben Hur – along with Slint’s Spiderland — is a classic, a founding document of post-rock, if you will, and I had to take this moment to shed a little light on an underappreciated gem. Let’s see if the KCMU posse agree with me, shall we? And hey, why not listen along while you read?

Yes, yes, we all love to delve into those obscure bands that twelve people knew about when they were around and now nobody remembers, but sometimes it’s fun to check in with an old favorite - a legend, even. It is in that spirit that this week I bring you 1984’s Goodbye Cruel World, the eighth album by Elvis Costello & the Attractions (and Elvis’s ninth album overall). While it seems many Elvis purists regard this as one of his worst albums, it holds a special place in my heart, as I vividly remember sitting in front of the TV watching Elvis and Daryl Hall in the video for “The Only Flame in Town” (as well as “Everyday I Write the Book,” from the previous album Punch the Clock). Ahhhh, memories. Anyway, it seems that even the super-cool-dudes at KCMU had room in their hearts for this oddball of an album:

Like any good radio station, we here at Review Revue love to take requests. So when reader Damon Creed (who comments on these blog posts occasionally, but whose comments as a KCMU DJ are featured on a large proportion of the records I pull out for the blog) suggested I look into the output of the band Smersh, I was very happy to comply. I ended up picking this album, 1987’s The Part of the Animal That People Don’t Like, due its high volume of comments (and the lovely ballpoint-pen art of the first comment) — three of which, it turns out, are by Mr. Creed himself.

I don’t know much about Smersh, and their recorded output is hard to find in print these days, but if you look hard enough you can find all sorts of information (and full albums!) about them online. If you’re interested in things Smershy, this video interview from 1988 is probably well worth your time.

Happy Thursday! It is time for some regional punk rock, courtesy our neighbors to the north, NoMeansNo. Formed in 1979 (!) in British Columbia by brothers John and Rob Wright, they continue to rock their dedicated fans in the US, Canada and Europe to this very day. NoMeansNo means business! This week’s Review Revue selection, 1991’s 0 + 2 = 1, is pretty much smack in the middle of their oeuvre. Unlike many bands making loud guitar music in the 1990s, the brothers Wright never signed to a major label, maintaining a relationship with Jello Biafra’s Alternative Tentacles (which also started in 1979) into the early 00s. These days they’re releasing their records on their very own imprint Wrong Records.

OK, people, we’re going to take a stroll down memory lane here…

When I was a much younger person, I went to a summer camp in Maine. Very often we would have camp counselors from the UK. I’m not sure why; maybe some kind of exchange or something? Anyway, these counselors were always exponentially cooler than us, first because they were older, of course, but then on top of that, they were from England, which is just incredibly cool. One that I remember in particular was even from Manchester! How cool is that?

Of course, being from Manchester, she turned me on to some pretty awesome music that I’d never heard of: Joy Division, The Charlatans UK, and this week’s feature, The Stone Roses. Their drugged-out blend of psychedelia and jangly brit-pop was apparently exactly what my 13-year-old self needed to get through adolescence (along with a healthy dose of DC post-punk courtesy Dischord, of course). Apparently the KCMU heads were digging the Stone Roses at the same time; maybe they would’ve made good camp counselors too?

It seems like every week here on Review Revue I’m saying how old a band or record is, and how crazy that is, so apologies if I’m starting to sound like a broken record (ha!), but… this year marks 25 years since The Walkabouts became a band. Isn’t that crazy? They started here in our fair city in 1984, and 25 years, several personnel changes, and well over a dozen albums later, they are still going strong (even, perhaps, a bit stronger now that Walkabout Terri Moeller’s other band Transmissionary Six has called it quits and her bandmate Paul Austin has joined the Walkabouts fray).

See Beautiful Rattlesnake Gardens was the band’s first full length record - and in a nice little connection to our installment a couple weeks ago, it was released by PopLlama Records, who have also been home to the Posies. They’d already been playing around for a few years, and had released a couple EPs, so doubtless this wasn’t the first exposure the KCMU DJs had had to the band. Let’s see what they had to say, shall we?