Brett Leigh Dicks (Images and Words)
If the bellowing guitars that so passionately blaze away through the introduction of
"Angry Man" do not solicit a degree of recognition then the arrival of the
vocals certainly will. "Electric Juju" is the maiden release from the Chainsaw
Men, a collaborative endeavour from local singer and songwriter Simon Drew and Californian
musician (and former Gamma Man) Steve Gardner. Whilst Simon Drew's absence from the local
music scene has been somewhat conspicuous of late, it is rather refreshing to see that he
has not been lying idle. In fact, it is becoming increasingly apparent that the former
Vanilla Chainsaw frontman has been anything but stagnant.
Recorded last year in San
Diego, "Electric Juju" is but the first in a succession of new releases from our
roaming son. And while such undertakings will certainly have afforded the composer with a
range of experiences upon which to draw, it is refreshing to see that this release owes as
much to his hard-hitting foundations within the Australian music scene as it does to its
American heritage. The essence of the Chainsaw Men is one based simply upon honesty.
Riding on the back of crunching guitars, pounding bass and rolling drums, the sentiments
that emerge through the songs on this album are at times as brutal as their orchestration.
From the destructive desires of "Angry Man" to the apocalyptic
"Meltdown", this is nothing short of a deluge of intent.
Through the course of the
album we progress from love found ("You Took My Love"), through deep
disillusionment ("Start Of The End") and finally on to a tale of love long lost
("You Used To Matter To Me"). We graphically encounter a bout of "Bad
Timing" and are literally dragged through a "Red Scare". But perhaps
nowhere does the lyrically subjection come to a greater climax then within the verses of
"Joyride". Here the similes are thrown as hard and fast as the guitar lines,
with this six and half minute barrage fittingly culminating in a blur of wailing guitars.
The album is closed out with the liberating overtones of "Break Those Chains".
Not only does this song present a fitting release from the preceding onslaught but, I am
suspecting that, it may also offer just a hint at what is yet to come.
Craig
Regan (I-94 Bar webzine)
This is a tremendous CD. It rocks in a way that reminds me of the Trilobites, an
under-rated '80s Sydney band that never got their just desserts. That's probably an
inadequate comparison - this is better than 90 percent of their output and there's a
definite English feel to some of the songs.
It's the result of a
musical collision of Simon Drew, the ex-singer from another Sydney band the Vanilla
Chainsaws (a band I never really got - I should have listened harder), and drummer Steve
Gardner, late of San Diego's Gamma Men and an expert on - and flagbearer for - most Aussie
and European indie music via his late, lamented fanzine Noise for Heroes. The project was
organised over the Internet and laid down in San Diego by host Gardner, a holidaying Drew,
Gamma Man Dave Elizondo and studio owner Richard Livoni.
You can read the full
story of how this CD was recorded here (it
should be called What We Did On Our Holidays) - suffice to say songs like Bad Timing,
Meltdown, 100 Miles Away, the sublime Took My Love and You Used to Matter to Me are as
catchy as hell.
Poppy and rocking - shit,
NKVD's own slogan says it better: Energy, Melody and Guts. E-mail Steve and see if you can
buy a copy. Better still, if you're a major label, give this the distro it deserves.
Toxic Flyer Fanzine
Hard pounding, powerful rock’n’roll with a Detroit Rock City
edge and a last of early punk rock that comes out like THE STOOGES, MC5, THE SAINTS, CANDY
SNATCHERS, DEAD BOYS and THE CYNICS. Well, CM sound is pure rock with a garage rock edge
as well as blasts of guitar action rock’n’roll that’s as dirty as THE
STONES. This CD features 12 powerful tunes such as Angry Man, Bad Timing, Joyride, Took My
Love, Meltdown, Take You Down, 100 Miles Away and more. Just fucking sweet shit.
(TTTTTT1/2)
Ken Shimamoto
(Savage Beat
fanzine)
San Diego's Steve Gardner has gotta be some kind of unsung hero of rock'n'roll. As
editor/chief scribe for Noise for Heroes, surely America's noblest and most
underappreciated rock 'zine of the eighties and early nineties, Bro. Gardner bore the
torch for honest rockin' music with heart at a time when the U.S. rock scene had
deteriorated into a bunch of spandex-wearing clowns with big hair on one side (the metal
contingent) and the increasingly fragmented remains of the punk movement on the other. His
features, interviews, and reviews of bands -- many from Australia or Europe and unknown on
these shores -- who continued making music in the tradition of the Dolls-MC5-Stooges on
one hand and the Ramones-Pistols-Clash on the other, were like a Candygram from the gods
for those with eyes to read and ears to listen.
But that's not all. Steve
was also the mastermind behind NKVD Records, releasing killer punk discs by the likes of
Australia's Exploding White Mice, Finland's Hitmen 3 and Jalla Jalla (whom he compares to
"Johnny Thunders with a slight twang," but I prefer to think of as ski-jumping
Replacements), and his own Gamma Men (for whom he drummed and wrote). His great
compilation The Violence Inherent In the System is persuasive evidence that the
Scandinavians and French are producing rockin' music comparable or superior to anything
waxed in these United States the past decade or so. Under the NKVD umbrella, Steve also
runs a mail-order service that carries only the finest overseas jams that no one else
Stateside would stock. Pretty impressive stuff.
If all that wasn't enough,
Steve was also responsible for one of the best records of last year, which you haven't
heard yet 'cos it hasn't been released. One week last spring, Steve recorded an album with
the vox and rhythm of Simon Drew, late of Australia's Vanilla Chainsaws (whose work I'm
now anxious to check out), the bass of former Gamma Man Dave Elizondo, and guitar solos
courtesy of recording engineer Richard Livoni. After searching in vain for a label with
the balls to put it out, Steve broke down and decided to finance an American release on
NKVD (as James Bond said, "Never say 'never again'"). The album will be released
in the U.K. by a label to be named later, and in Australia by one Simon Drew is putting
together. Dates haven't been nailed down yet, but my job here is to convince you that you
need to hear it.
The Chainsaw Men's
Electric Juju brings together a lot of elements you probably thought had left the rawwwk
for good -- thrashin' punk energy from the rock-solid engine room, combined with plenty
guitar damage (the confluence of buzzsaw rhythm and soaring leads) and anthemic tunes.
Sure, the post-grunge era is the Age of the Non-Singer, but Simon Drew's got pipes AND
tunes, and Bro. Gardner matches him shot-for-shot in the compositional stakes. The NKVD
slogan -- "Energy, Melody, Guts" -- definitely applies here. Listening to the
work these guys do, it's hard to believe the circumstances under which this album was
recorded (go read the article on NKVD's website); they sound like a band that's shared the
experience of blowing up against the back wall of many a sweaty club, not one that was
pulled together in a studio over a few manic days. From the aptly-titled opener
"Angry Men," the energy doesn't let up until the brief acoustic interlude at the
front end of closer "Break Those Chains." Hear and be amazed.
Fred Mills
(Phoenix New Times, 10-05-2000)
Once upon a time, Led Zep front man Robert Plant plaintively inquired from the stage,
"Does anyone remember laughter?" Not so much flower-powerish drivel as a genuine
lament for rock 'n' roll's loss of innocence, it could be paraphrased these days along the
lines of, "Does anyone remember aggression?" "Aggression," as in the
pent-up, long-smoldering, soul-on-ice, Spirit of '76 punk-rock kind of aggro, not the
sputtering, jimmy-capped roars of emasculation that today's mook-rockers and faux-rapsters
try to pass off as "punk."
Transcontinental rockers
the Chainsaw Men, luckily, have long memories not stunted by excessive exposure to Gameboy
and Real World radiation. In just the space of a dozen songs, they reignite punk,
channeling the venerable Motor City/Bowery sound of the '70s and delivering manifestos
with a ripped-jean viscosity that's all too rare these days. It's a summit meeting between
Australia and San Diego, the group's members hailing from legendary Oz combo the Vanilla
Chainsaws and our own Gamma Men, hence the combined moniker: The former's singer/guitarist
Simon Drew is joined by the latter's Steve Gardner on drums and Dave Elizondo on bass.
With lead guitarist Richard Livoni (ex-Blitz Brothers, also of The Shambles) in tow, the
Chainsaw Men assembled this set at Livoni's San Diego studio last year, ultimately opting
for an unusual triple-distribution scenario via Welsh punk label Smokin' Troll,
Australia's Corrosion and Gardner's own NKVD. (Gardner may additionally be familiar in
'zine circles from his efforts with the late, great punk rag Noise for Heroes; he
maintains a superb Web site that's loaded with intelligent commentary at
www.nkvdrecords.com.)
With elements both
old-school (MC5, Radio Birdman, even a touch of Dead Boys and Jam) and more recent (Bad
Religion's brainy investigations and the Lazy Cowgirls' amped-up Stones rawk come to
mind), it's safe to say that this band can't miss. Or can it? These days, kids over-weaned
on metallic hip-hop and aimlessly riffing "songs" based on open-tunings might
not "get it." But that's okay; the rest of us with graying temples and a jones
for straightahead rock 'n' roll understand.
From opening cut "Angry Man,"
which finds Drew snarling out his frustrations in his best Mike Ness voice over propulsive
buzz-saw guitars and a full-tilt rhythm section, to the closer "Break Those
Chains," an anthemic gotta-be-me number given an expansive, New Christs-style
acoustic/electric arrangement, the Chainsaw Men deliver the goods, inspired by several
decades' worth of musical heroes and intent upon carrying the torch proudly. In between
are numerous highlights, and with both Drew and Gardner divvying up the songwriting
chores, there's never any risk of repetition or formulaic regurgitation. At the same time,
the band carves out a singular sound, full of an unforced swagger and combined vigor
that's inspiring to witness as it unfolds before the ears. Given the geographical
logistics, here's hoping a collaboration this empathetic continues.
