NEW BEATS
To SLAM AND DIVE IN L.A. This cartoon looks familiar. The Circle Jerks tear into their 97th song of the night. Skinheads and Mohicans become projectiles and battering rams. Haven’t seen this many bodies flying since the last terrorist attack. Ooh! A waxed spike of hair pokes out the eye of a shaved-headed gal.
NEW BEATS
DEPARTMENTS
To SLAM AND DIVE IN L.A.
This cartoon looks familiar. The Circle Jerks tear into their 97th song of the night. Skinheads and Mohicans become projectiles and battering rams. Haven’t seen this many bodies flying since the last terrorist attack. Ooh! A waxed spike of hair pokes out the eye of a shaved-headed gal. The orb rolls on the floor. Within seconds it is crunched by a jungle boot. Near the end of the set, a leather-jacketed lad emerges from the seething pit of slamdancers with a neat horizontal line of blood creasing his neck. He will brag about it tomorrow at middle school.
Laugh? I thought I’d yawn myself to a coma.
This L.A. punk relic creeps ever closer to the heavy metal sound they spoof on “American Heavy Metal Weekend.” No longer can this rigid buzzsaw ramalama shock. The Minutemen realized this. So did Meat Puppets and Husker Du. Witness their wondrous evolutions. Let’s just say that CJ music lacks nuance.