The relatively overlooked 1990 debut from a band that became an indie-rock mainstay. 
As for what I've presented this years, here's the crème de la crème ripped from another batch of stunning revelations that are sure to garner more cheers than jeers. Yes siree Bob, The usual cornucopia of jangly arpeggios, rampaging riffola and subterranean splendor you've come to rely on (albeit not all facets populating the same record). The 24-track compendium outlined below is compiled predominantly from vinyl releases, naturally the meat and potatoes of this humble website. I don't have an adequate amount of time to delve into any particular selections, which is why I've conveniently provided hyperlinks to the pertinent write-ups of whomever artist you fancy more details on. Included are three songs I haven't previously shared. The Shrapnel tune is a corker. Enjoy.
Now this one's kinda special. Almost dedicated a Chanukah entry to it this year. Where do I start? The New Dylans were from Warren, PA, and for all I know still might reside there. I encountered them for the first time very belatedly in 2013 via a used copy of their debut full length, Warren Piece, and have been enamored ever since. The core lineup of Jim Reilley and Reese Campbell were aided and abetted on this 1986 record by none other than two of their contemporaries in 10,000 Maniacs, J.C. Lomabrdo and Jerome Augustyniak, filling things out on bass and drums respectively. A far different animal than the Maniacs, The Dylans had a predilection for folk-enhanced singer/songwriter pop-rock, bearing a heart of gold's worth of wit, charm, and dare I say empathy. They didn't necessarily peak on this ep, but don't tell that to Michael Stipe, who from what I've read was absolutely floored by this at the time (and perhaps the respect worked the opposite way evidenced by the collegiate-rock sway of "The Pampered Wife"). They break out the accordion for the swingin' "Doreen," another exemplary track that would later find it's way to Warren Piece. And then there's "The Primer of Life," a three minute jewel that qualifies as one of the fifty best jangle-pop songs I've ever laid ears on, due in no small part to a knockout chorus hook, and a dazzling Peter Buck-indebted guitar fill. Things ebb a bit with the peculiar "Suburban Shopping Mall," just before the band brings things in for a landing with the consoling, acoustic ballad "Old Overcoat." 
Once upon a time, 1991 to be specific, I read a review in Alternative Press for a virtually unknown export from San Diego dubbed Pitchfork. That write-up touted a Superchunk comparison, and given my impressionability during that time frame I was eager to obtain their album Eucalyptus without hearing one note beforehand. It would take a few years, but it's a record I would become inseparable with by the time my college studies concluded in the late-90s. It turns out there was far more at play than simple Superchunk adulation on Eucalyptus (and the 1989 Saturn Outhouse ep that was appended to the tape/cd incarnation of the LP).
I have no pithy back story to extol on this virtually un-browsable four piece who presumably called San Francisco home. Are you into the scruffy riff-rock of the Junk Monkeys, Snatches of Pink, or even Material Issue? The Adam Taub-led Mood Swing were sipping from the same watering hole as the aforementioned, possessing an even grittier
For this eight and final night of Chanukah, I thought I'd share my nostalgia with you. In fact this is definitely not just a trick of the light. You have at the base of your sleeves three semiprecious, out-of-print Chameleons compact disks, two of which are imports. I'm a pretty dedicated acolyte to Mr. Mark Burgess and his crack backing band. Established in Manchester, England in 1981, the Chameleons inserted bold, eminently powerful tension into what would have otherwise been a quartet of dime-a-dozen post-punk hopefuls. Characterized by echoey, shimmering guitar exploits and Mark's austere vocal command, the Chameleons were lazily pegged as "goth" by some. There were essentially three proper albums to the band's credit prior to their 2000 reunion - Script of the Bridge (1983), What's Does Anything Mean? Basically (1985), and Strange Times (1986). Beyond that are a myriad of vital singles (compiled on The Fan and the Bellows, and later Dreams in Celluloid), not to mention a cavalcade of live albums/DVDs...and these...
The Radio 1 Evening Show Sessions - I suppose the title gives this bad boy away. Culled from a pair of BBC sessions, one in 1983, the other following in two years. Classics one and all - "Nathan's Phase," "Singing Rule Britannia," and "Up the Down Escalator" to name a few. Two versions of "View From a Hill" are provided, including one that was never broadcast apparently.
Those of you with any familiarity of the Dickies know the aforementioned blurb hardly does them justice, but then again you've probably been long sold on them. Presented tonight are a duo of authorized "fan club" vinyl-only boots that were quietly introduced into the marketplace in 1996, which puts them somewhere around the time of the band's fifth LP Idjit Savant. Volume 1 (green jacket, and in some cases orange) is a mishmash of demos and seemingly random live cuts. Side A includes a quartet of 1985 demos cut for their fourth album, Second Coming. "Cross Eyed Tammy" and "Monkey See, Monkey Do" are worth the price of admission of Vol. 1 alone, as is an alternate take of the riff-ramming "Toxic Avenger." More demos ensue on side deux, the highlights here being a cover of the Left Banke's "Pretty Ballerina," and "H.I.V." which was later rewritten and rechristened as "My Pop the Cop," and released as a single in it's own right in 1998. Live selections include but are not limited to "Fan Mail," "Nobody But Me," and a brief piss-take of Lou Reed's "Take a Walk on the Wild Side."
This isn't the first time I've dedicated space to Denver's glam/grunge-meisters The Fluid, but it just might be the last. Here it is folks, everything I have by John Robinson & Co. to date that I haven't already shared (see previous entries for Clear Black Paper, Freak Magnet, Roadmouth, CBP demos). Growing up in a small rural city in upstate New York in the late '80s/early '90s two band epitomized punk rock to me more than anyone else - the Sex Pistols and the Fluid. Yes, this was the narrow prism yours truly was gazing through when I was getting schooled on sub-rosa rock.
First and foremost is the debut Fluid LP, Punch 'n Judy. The version I'm presenting here is the import Glitterhouse Records incarnation of the album, ugly-ass sleeve and all. Punch originally came to life on the band's Rayon imprint in 1986 and bore a much more flattering cover (jpeg is included in the folder). Conveniently my copy came bundled with a press kit, and it would appear that every set of ears with a typewriter made mention of the Fluid's profound affection for the Stooges and New York Dolls. "Static Cling" is indeed evident of Iggy and pals, while "You" and the trashy camp of "13th Nite" exude various shades of the latter influence. At one point there was a Fluid website boasting an extensive discography. I recall the notes saying that Punch... was originally slated to be a five or six song demo, but low and behold the band stretched their dollar to cut a bona fide LP. Above average for a debut, but they had hardly peaked. The Glitterhouse version contains a different track sequence and a bonus cut ("Graveyard Tramps") not available on the original Rayon pressing.
Next up is a live bootleg 7" capturing four songs from a 1988 gig (location unspecified), many of which would appear on the then forthcoming Roadmouth. This is where the Fluid really started to congeal, with thicker bass guitars, a noticeably more muscular sonic tenor and the introduction of seedy vignettes. splendidly surfacing on the lacerating "Twisted & Pissed," a punk rock slammer that would have done Stiv Bators proud. Shortly following Roadmouth came 1990's Glue ep, as well as a live split single with Nirvana, but even more enticing than that, a new Fluid single on Sub Pop offering two exclusive songs. "Tin Top Toy" sports the vibe of earlier Fluid forays like Clear Black Paper, albeit speedier, One of the most unique songs in the Fluid's oeuvre. The flipside, "Tomorrow" is a Frantix cover, an earlier Denver hardcore band featuring future Fluid alumni.
Prior to signing with Hollywood Records in '93, the band pumped out one more indie release, an Australian import ep featuring two new songs, "My Kind" and "Waves," and a pair of outtakes from the Glue sessions. "My Kind" was re-recorded for the band's first (and final) "big time" LP purplemetalflakemusic. The early adaptation of the song that appears on Spot the Loon is exponentially meaner and feral than the subsequent LP version. See kids? Band change when they sign to a major. An early take of "Cell" appears here too, along with the two Glue outtakes I mentioned - a more than serviceable run through of "Kick Out the Jams" and an oddball original, "Hey 13." In conjunction with the release of purple... Hollywood Records furnished radio stations with a promo CD of "Pill," boasting two full fledged outtakes, "Cell," and the crankin' "Waves," which is not to be missed. That CD is included in this bundle as well.
Well look who came to bestow some happy Chanukah tidings? The Figgs were kind enough to bequeath us with a steady flow of singles and such during their tenure in the Clinton-era, and I was kind enough to hem together as many of the disparate and sometime random non-LP Figgs jams that I was fortunate to collect over the years. In fact, this entry has been in the pipeline for awhile now. I had been procrastinating out of sheer fear that assembling this collection would be a bear of an undertaking, but I finally nailed it, save for a couple of tracks from tribute albums, and the elusive "I Am Clean" from a Blue Lunch Records comp cassette that I'm sadly missing.
As the long held notion goes, Beatles b-sides were usually superior to most other band's A-grade material. So far as I'm concerned, The Figgs were another "fab four" (later pared down to three, but I digress) whose non-LP catalog could go head to head with their strongest album tracks. Case in point, a spate of four exquisite singles that came down the pike between 1993-95, beginning with "Miss Velvet" and ending with my favorite Christmas record ever, the Christmas Shake ep which I originally posted here in 2007. Still performing and recording, the Figgs sassy and charm-schooled power pop formula is microbrewed by two key singer-songwriters Pete Donnelly and Mike Gent, with drummer Pete Hayes contributing text on a less frequent basis, in proportion to say, Ringo Starr. The net result isn't Beatle-esque, so much as Material Issue getting juiced up on Elvis Costllo's genius, late '70s tear. Edgy, indigenous and endearing The Figgs halcyon era in the mid-90s was a sight/sound to behold, and proper full lengths, Banda Macho and Lo-Fi at Society High, were merely half the story.
Choo Choo Train - This Perfect Day b/w Happy
Bicycle (1987, Picture Book)
The Fire - Stars (Looking Up At) b/w England
(1985, Big Step)
Ironics - Mayday b/w Misdemeanors (1982, Age of Music)
SVT - Heart of Stone b/w The Last Word (1979, 415)
