February 1987

The following is the February 1987 installment of Puszone

Thanks to Brandon Werry for the article.

A small piece of plywood lay in front of me, full of scratch marks and
smeared doodles of worthless clutter. On top of that, directly to the right,
lay a stack of heavy stock computer paper that I was writing on with a
solid, no mudge, writing utensil. It would have been a quiet evening if
it wasn't for the fact that while I sat "Indian Style" upon a gigantic
maroon Persian rug with unique designs woven in, I was blasting some
sonic spasms of sound through the nearly empty room while dotting down
a few record reviews. entranced by the noise, I gleefully scribbled out
a few choice adjectives. My attention fully into the pressure of my fingers
smashed against the pen, I didn't notice the movement at the far end of
the rug. But with a tugging jerk, the commotion jolted my eyes to observe
a maroon wave hovering partially over my somewhat frightened form.
My eyes opened wide as the gigantic rug towered above me, lashing back
and forth like a whip, as the small designs on the maroon surface came
to life. I realized that I was floating some five feet off the floor in
a levitational manner, as little wool creatures danced violently toward me.
I tried to move, but the carpet had woven itself tightly around my calves
and across my wrists. It pulled taunt, ripping my flesh. Blood oozed
into the maroon carpet, which seemed to give it life. Feeling little
wool furballs slither across my body, I tembled in fear, as tiny tight
knit grins laughed at me with a wicked volume which rapidly became a
deafening roar over the music. Suddenly my head jerked back into the rug,
almost snapping my neck, as wool strains braided my in to my hair pulling
snug and tense. I felt like Gulliver being held by the little people, as
a garden of wool strapped me from head to toe. Then, with a forceful push,
the monsterous rug wrapped around me again and again, squeezing tight,
pressing the air out of my lungs. I started to see black. The music
stopped and the obese rug smashed down to the wooden floor, crushing my
left side. A loud howl echoed from another room in the flat. "Hey, what's
up in there?" It was my brother. He came into the room. "Like, what are
you doing with that rug?" he bellowed. "Well you see, I was starting to
write the Puszone when..."hahaha, welcome again ye followers of the typeset
called Puszone to its monthly installment.

Torrent chords forward, the cry of speed zooms at a raw, breakneck
pace that careens with each string plunge to a degree of mayhemic
proportion. Yet amid all the speed is a certain humor that you know
only the kings of sofa surfing could deliver, since their fave
activity is watching television. The T.V. theme rides strong as
Adrenalin O.D. pour out their second LP Humungousfungusamongus.
These four madcapped lads got their popcorn, refreshments, and the
persistant fight for that sole pillow, to walk once again into a
studio and record eighteen crazed tracks to brain bomb your intelligence.
The question is, did Adrenalin O.D. record this LP in their underwear
as they did the first, since that disc stormed and now the second platter
roars equally well? Paul, Jack, Bruce and Dave scorch down the momentum
that flails wildly with every beat, seering tight with a metallic surge,
still hauling at a furious pace with exploding twin guitars grinding
with fuzzing feedback overload, the sound that causes the ring. Though
not as full sounding as the first LP, Humungousfungus hits hard
and avoids boring lapses while the band lunges back in to the couch with
some fake wrestling moves on their instruments, preparing you for a count
of chin wiggling speed. Check the playlist: "Fishin' Musician," "Bugs,"
"Survive," "Crowd Control," "Velvet Elvis," "Yuppie," "Office Buildings,"
"A.O.D. vs. Son of Godzilla" and the seven inch track "The Nice Song" just
to namedrop some of the exceptional material presented. Adrenalin O.D.
power an untamed fury that crushed skulls, bangs heads, thrusts legs and
electrifies the eyeballs with continual fast paces, then lays the blade
into cranium combat with humor and satirical jabs. Great stuff from A.O.D.
Now if Bruce would only stop dropping the butter into his amp when he
makes studio popcorn. On Buy Our Records

Speedcore has become something of a rage in Europe with some bands trying
to go beyond the speed limit. The like of Heresy, Concrete Sox, Napalm
Death, Larm and other newcomers are setting the pace. Now another young
ensemble of fast accelaeration comes into the limelight with their self-
produced flexi disc. Ferociously hauling out of hte U.K. is Ripchord, who
have been around awhile, but this is their first release. Four mates
power this radical combustion of fast energy packed in with upfront lyrical
writing hitting hard on reality. Growling guitar action jams severly,
pushing a gritting hardcore sound with a tad bit of metallic structure,
which makes for vibrant chaos. Tough, spat out vocals predominate, followed
by the slapping drums. The sound quality is what can be expected on a flexi,
but it does give Ripchord the chance to be heard. Nine songs pushing a sonic
earload on this double-sided flexi prove Ripchord to be a band to watch for
and enjoy.

Finally, after a long wait, New York'd unique attack of thrash, overloaded
with thunderous metallic outcries, rivets its way onto an LP. Ludichrist,
the outfit who power a fistful of creative changes while still holding their
speed and strength and avoiding repetitious structures rush out nineteen
stormtrooping cuts that make this band one of the top few for 1987. Take
notice, Ludichrist drive a mean, savage adventure with assertive skill and
unrestrained vigor, making for mind-blowing maniacal mayhem that pushed up
front a new change at every beat. Immaculate Decpetion contains a bit
of everything with a thrash appeal that ranges from speed, fast and crazed,
to iron whines, to bluesy struts and even some rap flavorings, to name a few.
But the way Ludichrist approaches these genres is what makes this band strong.
Their sound is tight, neatly polished and well-produced. Tommy and the boys
drive the brain to blisters with a balance of quick thrusts and rants 'n
raves of lyrical suggestion. The grooves that smash the stylus include
"Big Business," "Fire at the Firehouse," "Government Kids," "Tylenol," "You
Can't Have Fun," and the cult classic, "Blown into the Arms of Christ," a
tune that rips with energetic raucousness. Ludichrist offer a choice
selection of musical expressions that work very well and are packed with
all the right punches. A great release. On Combat Core Records.

A nice cover layout that mixes gold lettering with gold and blue borders
surrounding a black and white photograph of a bloodied human body greets
you as you pick up the second LP from Sweden's Slam. Slam has been around
for a few years now, but their musical drive of medium-paced melodies and
their upfront punches have gone more or less unnoticed. Original members Zune,
Thomas, Uffe, Par and Tony are still creating that hard sound with harmonies
and crafty guitar work that flow with a tasty flavor. End of Laughter
finds Slam slashing out fifteen musical efforts, tight in quality and energetic
in rhythms. The LP also has a mellow voltage that shows the crossing of punk
with rock, yet no metal fatigue. End of Laughter has been released in
the U.S. to bring Slam to a bigger audience by Subcore Records.

Ah, got the luggage draped over the shoulder for another journey to
the land of seven-inch platters. First stop is France and the split release
by Kromozom 4 and Heimat-Los. Spanking the black vinyl with a surge
of sound barrier speed that erupts viciously and voraciously, Heimat-Los
continue their mad drive at insanely fast riffs, while shrilling vocals
tower over the blistering momentum. Four tracks charge at a frightful pace
with no control in sight. A new breed of haulers is born. Flip this French
gem over and get the ear-piercing pace of Kromozom 4, who also lash out
four crunching, rapidly paced tracks that manage to be more melodic than
mayhemic. These tracks feature a strong bass sound and true French vocals
over a fun, action-packed field of guitar and drum work. On Reseau

Cacophonous turbulence rushing at a 1,000 mph rate is False Liberty,
whose debut EP moves with a raw, boisterous beat of lightning-fast aggression.
Gritty feedback growls out of the chaotic twin-guitar attack and screeches
as it becomes raunchy, ferocious distortion. Blistered tonsils croon out a
raw squawk that the tongue whips into a speedy lyrical delivery, charging
headlong in the fiery pursuit of savage quickness. False Liberty hail from
Seattle and are the newest addition to a long line of speedcore franticness,
made famous by the likes of the Fartz and The Accused. Even though False
Liberty is young, their blow drives the butchering cleaver down on havoc-laden
assaults with fast-paced excitement. Seven tracks from One Step Ahead Records.

Grab your hairpiece. The wall of roaring, distorted sound scorches with
maximum effect from the raw speedsters called Disarm. Hauling out of
Sweden, Disarm strike with a gritting feedback sensation that contains
a no-holds-barred power, making their second EP release Domd a
shellshocking blitz of potent hardcore fever. The record, which comes in a
3-fold poster sleeve, awaits you with four rapidly-paced tracks that smash
your cranium with sonic volleys of vigorous guitar and bass strummings,
as a booming drum quakes in the background. Vocalist Honsa growls with a
hoarse, vicious voice, not screaming but bellowing like a rabid dog cornered
in a dark alley. Disarm mix the best of the Swedish hardcore sound, with
piercing guitar whines dropped in (a Swedish tradition). As on their first
EP, Disarm combines maximum acceleration with damaging, stimulating assaults
that make this a boiling blast of ferocious slashes.

Here is the "turn it up to maximum volume, crank out the abrasive power
and make it as raw and fast as possible" release from Holland's Disgust.
Biting hard with a snappy grind of bulldozing guitar distortion, set at
level 10, the chords shatter one another and raid the forefront with an
extreme "noise destroys" effect, packing in speed and raunchy licks. Entitled
The Last Blast, this six song EP hammers a flailing clamor that
spews out raspy chaotic jolts with a shouter who bursts his larynx
screaming out the vocal madness. Disgust dish out a brutal punch of
unrestrained havoc with a total graunched out flavor. Intense sound. On
Hageland Records.

And in the sabotoging seven-inch terror catagory is a band from the
Chicago area called Impulse Manslaughter, whom I at first thought was
an Italian outfit because of their wicked, shrilling vocalist with his
violent spittings of lyrical combustion. But here is a band who mix a
speecdore drive with jaunting musical quickness and brutal effect. Their
music is dominated by crackling guitar strums as a snare drum whacks out
the pulsating beat. A few metallic strokes blast outward and are effective
in this garage-sounding rush. Still, it's the vocalist that overpowers this
scorching ensemble, with that unique gurgling scream that you'll either
like or hate as his throat is ripped to shreds by the furious yells. Impulse
Manslaughter strike with eight quick tracks, thrusting blood everywhere in
a young but mean approach. These guys could be big in Italy.

All of a sudden, the state of Florida had kicked out some recordings from
bands that have existed there for quite some time, but have not yet been heard
by the public ear. These bands raise the Fahrenheit with a creative mixture
of hardcore, metal and powerful rock on discs that are well produced and
professionally played. What makes these bands so unique is their musical
structuring and their ability to pull off a boisterous sound without falling
in to a typical mold. First there was Disorderly Conduct. Now welcome your
unsuspecting brain to the imperial strength of Amazing Grace's debut LP,
Entities. Set the stylus down and get in the groove with the opening
track, "Jailbait," a mixture of hardcore roots, early Kiss and Motorhead rage.
Vocalist Steve Cambert thrusts his crooning outward, echoing across the full
force sound, with a deep, effective flavor that works well with the guitar
chording and overall beat. The umphf comes from guitarist Billy La Volpe,
bassist Gary Lambert, and drummer Ron Norton, who stay tight through an onslaught
of intense riffs and head beating surges. Amazing Grace whip up a frenzy
for both crowds and for open-minded listeners, smashing all the right elements
together with high speed and crafty stylings. Most of this is medium-paced
but extremely hard. The LP has many memorable tracks that linger in your brain.
Bands like The Brood, Disorderly Conduct and Amazing Grace, that were once
in a hardcore mold have come out with a tough rock sound that mixes it all
up from both sides and still works effectively. Hopefully it won't be lost in
the new puppies of speed. Entities is a good, strong release available
through Amazing Grace.