Record Review: Bouncing Souls - Comet

Bouncing Souls - Comet (Rise / Chunksaah)
By Nathan G. O'Brien on Scene Point Blank

After nearly everyone has finally stopped paying attention, the Bouncing Souls put out a new album.  And holy shit is it ever underwhelming. But you knew that—whether you listened to it or not, you already knew that. If you’re familiar with the band in any capacity whatsoever—whether as a fan or someone that’s merely heard the name before—you knew that. Like Bad Religion, Rancid, NOFX, Pennywise, or other bastions of '90s pop-ish punk, mediocrity is just a given at this point. It’s really unfortunate for us longtime fans that we must now admit to ourselves what our detractors have been saying all along. But before we do that, let’s take a moment to be real with ourselves.  ...review continues here.


Scene Report: Minneaplois International Noise Conference

Minneapolis International Noise Conference; Hexagon Bar; Mpls, MN; 6/6/13

20 minutes ago I was at my secret chicken wings-eating spot in the suburbs, eating chicken wings and secret tator tots as part of a monthly friend-mixing event.  The chicken wings-eating spot is not really secret but I'm not about to advertise it because it's already quite busy on wing night.  The tator tots were secret because nobody knew my friend and I had them.  We ordered and ate them before everyone else got there for the regularly-scheduled wings.  I say monthly because I only go once a month even though wings night happens every week.  It's a friend-mixing event because I have literally never been there without meeting at least one, but often times several, new friends of friends of friends. (New rap lyric idea: "I got friends on friends on friends."  Ah, maybe not.)  I brought my friend with me this time.  It was the first time I've mixed one of my friends into the wing crew.  I think it went pretty well.  If they had know about the secret tator tots, who knows what might have happened though.

Anyways, now I am here, at the noise convention.  It's tits, man.  Tits and mint and kind of totally tubular (and not at all square pegs,) but mostly just tits.  It's like Mother Love Bone vs. Riistetyt in a staring/whispering-but-mostly-blinking/screaming contest, where all the officials are people who dropped out of MCAD in favor of MIAC schools and were then forced to dress in drag...at least right now. It changes every 10 minutes. Literally every 10 minutes it changes. It's pretty much the best place you could ever be. When I move to the suburbs, sell all my records, and hang my bike in the garage, these are the TC nights I'll miss the most.

Audience member to naked man: "Nice cock, bro."

Hexagon Bar, Mpls, MN, 6/6/13


Scene Report: Sete Star Sept, Brain Tumors, Irreversible Brain Damage live at the Hexagon Bar

Sete Star Sept, Brain Tumors, Irreversible Brain Damage live; Hexagon Bar; Mpls, MN, 6/5/13

There were all these bands, a hockey game on several large TVs, and one guy in plaid cargo shorts.  It's a delicate balance.  Kind of bummed about the hockey, but for some strange reason I was fine with the guy in the plaid cargo shorts.  Maybe I'm getting old, or maybe it's because an old friend of mine basically told me to stop pushing my idea of "cool" onto other people and quite making fun of them if they don't fit into it. Old friend didn't say exactly that, but more or less.  It was over IM, so you know, it was kind of unclear, but I think that was the gist of it. 

When Brain Tumors played there was Christmas lights flying around. At least I think they were Christmas Lights.  I didn't get close enough to find out. Drew, the lead singer (a slight narcissistic man who likes to refer to himself as Henry Rollins of Minneapolis) seemed extra pissed.  I think someone punched him in the balls.

Before Sete Star Sept played, the drummer removed all of his clothing except for his boxer-briefs. Boxer-briefs are such a clutch move, you guys.

Irreversible Brain Damage: "This one is called 'Don't Give Me Week Drugs Or I Will Kick Your Fuckin' Ass.'" 

Brain Tumors: "Baskin Robbins has 31 flavors and most of them are diabetic." 

Sete Star Sept: "Thanks for the...uhm...stuff...being here?"  They're Japanese, so forgive the language barrier. 

Earlier today I had no idea I'd be at this show but then Facebook told me to do it.  I'm glad Facebook told me to do it because it was really fun.  But now I will be really tired and sort of hung over at work tomorrow.  What else is new.  That's not a question - it's a statement.

Hexagon Bar, Mpls, MN, 6/5/13


Scene Report: Kylesa live at Triple Rock

Kylesa live; Triple Rock Social Club; Mpls, MN; 6/3/13

As soon as the game was over, I headed to the T-Rock for the Kylesa show.  Or as I like to call it, Hair Farmers Convention.  I walked in as some band that had a flute player was on.  They weren't Jethro Tull, but they were just as horrific.  OMG, prog is thee worst.  If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a band that knows how to play their instruments.  You're not allowed to dispute my opinions because I'm spewing them while wearing a camouflage Budweiser Outdoors hunting hat.  Flute/prog band wasn't so bad after all, when compared to the ska the sound guy was playing between bands.  When Kylesa played there was a kid on the floor solo hardcore dancing.  Like windmills and lawnmowers and shit.  But with a psychedelic twist. Like a straight edge kid on mushrooms or something.  So, yeah, that's that.  Now the Heat and the Spurs are going to be in the finals and I'm thinking of forcing myself to watch NHL becuase I'm pissed about it.

Triple Rock Social Club, Mpls, MN, 6/3/13


Record Review: Koko Beware - Something About Summer

Koko Beware - Something About Summer (Independent)
By Nathan G. O'Brien on Scene Point Blank

I have to be honest here. A band named after a professional wrestler, no matter what they sound like, is going to tug at my heart strings in a way that’s totally unfair to all bands that are not named after professional wrestlers. I also love summer, summer jams, and any jams that evoke some sort of summer-ness. And with that we have Athen, GA’s Koko Beware and their full-length debut, Something About Summer.

Koko Beware play the type of surf-y, garage-y poppy music you expect to hear when you walk into a boardwalk coffee shop, where the women behind the counter is wearing horn-rimmed glasses or a polka-dot bandanna, or, quite possibly, both. You take your tuna sandwich and medium roast to a window seat, where you watch the waves roll in and get completely lost in the adorable sounds soothing into your subconscious – a sugary twee twang spun by the bastard offspring of Billy Childish and Holly Golightly if they were abandoned at the same orphanage as Jay Reatard and The Vivian Girls...review continues here.