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 Skeemin' NoGoods -
S/TIdol Records 2004 by Gary Blackwell Well, there's sure nothing fancy about the Skeemin' NoGoods. Sure, John Speck (The Fags, Hoarse) occasionally lets his fingers wander up and down his fretboard for extended periods of time, but those solos don't really seem flashy or overly technical; they're more like the equivalent of some frantic spastic fit brought on by three days of constant caffeine consumption. Rhythm section members Ron Sakowski (The Necros, Easy Action) and Chuck Burns (Speedball, Seduce) lay down solid tracks that don't go off into progressive epics; sure, the drums pop all over the place like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and the bass -- well, alright, in all honesty, the main grumble to have about this recording is that the bass seems practically muted, really making it a non-issue ... Still, for the 28-minute lifespan of this recording, Speck, Sakowski and Burns play the best kind of rock-and-roll that exists - the dirty, nasty, slinky kind that takes simple, four-chord guitar-crunching, puts it over a pounding rhythm, and then totally goes over the top with liberal doses of nasty guitar solos and highly intense, yelled-but-still-kinda-sung vocals. This ain't MTV's bullshit rock-and-roll here; this is Lemmy Kilmister's rock-and-roll - the kind born of nights of chain smoking, beer swilling, whiskey drinking and barroom brawling, all set to a steady soundtrack of Motorhead and conversations about who's got what tatooed where. All three of these guys have been involved in various elements of rock in the past (hell, Speck's actually one of the best goddamned pop songwriters Detroit's ever seen - the guy's had solid hooks pouring out of his ass for years in every band he's written for, and he's currently tossing out gems as part of The Fags); somehow, though, none of that matters when it comes to the Skeemin' NoGoods, because the only element present here is a good old ass-kicking for any set of ears lucky enough to be listening. Like all good rock-and-roll, the Skeemin' NoGoods are frayed around the edges. There are no ballads here. There are no ornate rhythmic changes. Everything on this disc relies solely on intensity. Admittedly, the tracks tend to blur together at times; the album kicks off with "I Want Something" and "Politicians," and it's really hard to tell where one starts and the other begins upon first listen. "I Don't Like You" actually goes the route of including the dreaded, "1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8" count-along lyric (in the middle of the song, even). Imagine spending two days locked in a room with two close friends, a handful of AC/DC albums, a gallon of whiskey, a carton of smokes, and three cases of the cheapest beer possible ... Now think about the fact that this album is the direct result of an entire lifetime of that behavior. That's right - 28 minutes of dirty, alcohol-soaked, four-chord crunch and blazing guitar solo goodness. So, why, pray tell, can the statement still be made that something so rudimentary is still vibrant and necessary? Simple. This, my friends, is balls-out, no frills, all-out, 'fuck you let's rock' music. This is the kind of stuff that's playing when beer bottles are shattering against brick walls, setting up the perfect atmopshere for fists to be flying at faces in all the right bars in all the wrong places. Go put down a few drinks and then listen to the disgustingly great mid-album combo of "Downtown" and "Gimme the Gas" to feel a quick blast of the spirit of Detroit. Leave your shitty job at the end of the workday and speed home, drumming on the steering wheel and yelling along to "Punch the Clock" for some rock-and-roll catharsis. Can't hear the bass in the mix? That sucks, but it doesn't matter. Less than a half-hour long? Shit, man - just play it two or three times in a row a few times a day and get your money's worth. Listening to the Skeemin' NoGoods is like putting Lemmy, Angus Young and The Ramones in a blender and then pouring the contents into the stereo. Bounce around, play air guitar, bang your head, yell along, throw a fist in the air, pound a beer, do the Pogo ... The list is endless. Whatever it is you decide to do, just know that this disc will make you want to do it that much fucking harder. - Gary Blackwell |
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