IN
STACCATO LIBIDO - Blamethrower (Woo-Da-Loo
Audio)
With
the Great Detroit Garage Rock Revival Hoax (patent pending) now safely behind
us, and A&R reps looking to sign the next White Stripes (or hell for that
matter the next Von Bondies or Ko & The Knockouts) scurrying for Metro
Airport
to get out of town before dark, the streets here in the Murder City are finally
safe again for true believers like Blamethrower to perform unimaginable acts
of random depravity and violence. Or at the very least, facilitate the onset
of tinnitus.
Admittedly I'm painting with broad strokes here, but it's been my experience
that the greasiest looking bands are usually the ones who also happen to sound
the best (Heartbreakers, Dead Boys, or Torpedos anyone?), and a quick check
of these guys' mugs in the CD booklet bodes well - all five dressed mostly
in black without a smile between them. Something tells
me none of them would be as big a pushover as Von Bondies frontman Jason Stollsteimer,
should Jack White ever swagger into the Majestic or Magic Bag looking to play
a little chin music. I say smiling too much is bad for the soul anyway. Being
happy's overrated. Black goes with everything and never goes out of style.
And neither does the heart-stomping mayhem Blamethrower summons on this, their
first full-length album (a self-titled EP was released in May 2002). Like
a cheap bottle of plonk, "In Staccato Libido" hits hard and leaves
a bad taste in your mouth (in this case "bad" means "good").
Blamethrower get in , get out, and leave skidmarks with a good old-fashioned,
honest-to-goodness, full-bore rumble of guitar, bass, and drums. Except for
the occasional handclap or whistle, production shenanigans (by the band in
cahoots with John Smereck) are kept to a minimum, allowing their signal to
go out unfettered.
On album opener "Silver & Gold," the guitars of Justin Hall
and Nick Dibuono duel to the death in what sounds like some sort of six-string
steel cage match, with one of them pulling a foreign object (wah pedal) out
of his trunks. All singer Don Moss can do is stand by and try not to get anything
on him.
If you didn't know better, you'd swear that was Steve Jones blasting out the
opening crescendo of "God Save The Queen" on "Walk With Me"
before Blamethrower give those old familiar chords a good swift kick in the
ass, in the process staking some claim to them as their own. "Going Home"
contains the essential ingredients for any great song - a big pop hook and
a sing-along chorus - although to Blamethrower's credit they also mix in a
sense of Detroit abandon and desperation, apropos for this ghost town of gutted
factories, razed buildings, and dead ends.
Lyrically, "In Staccato Libido" boils human instinct down to its
two most basic tenets - to rock and to get laid - and in the end, what else
is there (except for maybe a really good record collection)? Scott Morgan
chips in on "Medicinal Whiskey" with organ and backing vox and although
Trash Brat Craig Cashew drums on all tracks (due to a revolving door of drummers
which reached Spinal Tap proportions), apparently the fifth time's the charm
for Blamethrower and current skinsman Johnny Vee.
If you still miss Johnny Thunders (I do, despite being pissed off at him for
throwing it all away for a bump of smack - you too, Dee Dee!) and prefer your
Aerosmith with a twist of heroin, Blamethrower may be the mangy curs you've
been sifting through the red-and-white-clad chaff for. It's always been my
contention that Detroit needs a homegrown band of loose, ragged louts we can
proudly slot in somewhere between the New Bomb Turks, Devil Dogs, and Lazy
Cowgirls. Come and get it... - Clark
Paull
