Depending on which dictionary you use, growth is, among many other things "development from a simpler to a more complex stage", or "something that has grown or developed by or as if by a natural process".
Yes, people still use books to look up things. You know, those funny things with words on paper. Some people even still read books, even punks. And now get this: some punks even read books and put quotes from books in the liner notes of their albums. Ain't that weird? Duh!
Every once in a while, you come across a record that knocks off your feet, for whatever reason. Rebellion is one of these records for me, and yes, I will say it gladly: it's in my top ten of 2010. The title of this record is a fuck you in itself: you look at the cover artwork, you either catch yourself thinking "Ow, so these dudes have grown up, and they are angry about whatever", or, more likely: "Shit, they want to cash in on ths success of Anti-Flag". But my friend, you couldn't be further from the truth... let me explain:
Yes, in some ways this is about rebellion itself, because the music here is much harsher and angrier than on their previous record, but that's where the story ends. You are only scratching the surface here, which is cool, but you are missing out. Big time. So take the record title, and juxtapoze it against the Dostoyevsky quote in the insert:
"One can hardly live in rebellion, and I want to live."
The fists were buried in pockets, now they are clenched. Not swinging blindly, though - this is not a record about scene politics or punk rock gossip, this is a record about personal growth, and trying to find your place in a world you don't necessarily like - because "you need to leave from the edge of uncharted lands. / The dark spots on maps where no person has ever been before." This is a record about hope. Not sitting over beers, sighing, but getting the fuck up, doing what has to be done, getting out of whatever shithole you are in, literally or figuratively: a town, a relationship, a bad situation.
And the music? Oh wow. The first song on the record alone is a far cry from previous The Riot Before songs, more Jawbox than Ann Beretta, and probably not due to the fact that Mr J Robbins has been producing this. From a personal experience, I think it's safe to say that these gentlemen are men of taste (not always when it comes to footwear and belt buckles, though). And these gentlemen know how to write a good song. It is essentially pop punk, yes, but this is a not a four letter word. And fuck it, I just decided I'll not drop any reference points here.
Rebellion is a record that grows on you. It's a record that will love in six months, and a record that you will fully come to appreciate and understand in a year. (If you are me, at least.) Until then, it will be a good travel companion through the trials and tribulations of life. Oh, and the good times as well.
I'll have to admit that it took me some while to get into your record. I will be honest with you: I think the design is god awful, but maybe that's the design nerd in me talking. The cover art is really good, the drawing of the empty bottle is something I would frame and put on my wall, but the typesetting of the lyrics... ouch. So well, that was something that put me off initially - that, and my own thoughts about another punk with another acoustic guitar. You know what I'm talking about.
Personally, I would have picked another opener instead of "Passenger". Don't get me wrong, it's a good song, a great song even, but it just doesn't set the mood. "Chasing Ghosts" or "An Island's Point Of View", however, are songs that do. So yes, you had me after the fifth song, and I went from "Shit, I'm sure this dude has some ugly tattoos and a beard" to "Oh, this is a man I would love to drink with". I kept this CD in my player. I listened to it when I got up in the morning and had my first coffee. I listened to it when I was working. I listened to it to fall asleep to - which might sound lame, I know, but it isn't. Now let me explain...
I think a common misconception about records you can fall asleep to is that they are boring. That's bullshit. I can fall asleep to Cannibal Corpse or Pig Destroyer, because blast beat after blast beat is like a mantra, a brainless one, but a mantra that helps me switch off my thoughts. But this only one side of the coin. The other side are records like yours, and I will gladly put Vic Bondi's Ghost Dances on the list as well, or Bob Mould's Workbook, you name it. They're all intense records, they're all punk records essentially, but they speak a different language: they don't scream at you. They comfort you. They are, for lack of a better analogy, the arms that hug you when you're alone in your bed. Barstool Conversations is one of these records.
It's the kind of record you have to have to learn to appreciate, you have to literally get to know it, like you get to know a stranger in a bar sitting next to you, in these small hours when you're drunk and when the borders between good luck and bad luck, between happiness and sadness start to blur, when you fucking feel like telling your most intimate secrets to complete strangers. And in turn, these strangers sometimes speak words of wisdom, of pure poetry, and you want to write them down on a beer soaked napkin, but you don't. In the morning, it's all forgotten, and all that's left is a feeling. Your songs, however, are still there in the morning.
So well, Jeff, I would like to thank you for this record. I would like to thank you that it made me take a trip to the middle of fucking nowhere, just to see you play. Thanks for that. Thank you for drinking with me, thank you for talking about books and music and life and love and struggles and hardship, thank you for that Descendents cover, thank you for singing that Propagandhi song with me, thank you for the t-shirt, but above all... thank you for that record. And now I know that is supposed to be a review, something that should tell people about how it sounds like, how good or how bad it is, why they should or should not buy it, but I say fuck it. I just can't do that.
And you know what? You were right. It's fucking lame to compare it to let's say Tim Barry or Chuck Ragan. Just because they're punks, and just because they play a similar kind of music doesn't mean shit. They might be your peers, true, your music is at home at The Fest and the Revival Tour, but it also makes sense in the backroom of a bar in the middle of nowhere, it makes sense that you are playing and touring with the fucking Landmines, because at the end of the day, it's about two things that you have put to words a lot better than I ever could:
"I've got a love that makes me weak. I've got friends that are more than are more than blood."
Jeff, thank you for making a difference in at least one person's life. And that's the glory of punk, regardless of style or genre or scene, even in 2010...
I tend to put people on a pedestal sometimes. Musicians, artists, writers, people in my life, people I love. I just can't help it. This is part of who I am. When I interviewed Chuck D, I felt like a little kid. (OK, actually I was looking down on Flavor when I bumped into him, but this was more a height thing...) But then again, punk rock has taught me that hero worship is a bunch of shit. If you look up to someone, you make yourself smaller. That's idiotic. One of the best thing about punk rock is that there are people you admire, people that inspire your thoughts and actions, and ultimately your life, but you can see eye to eye. You are peers.
Dave Laney is one of the people that have inspired me, even though we have never talked. He played in Milemarker, he played in Challenger, he published Media Reader, and probably did half a dozen more things that I don't know shit about. I loved the pink Milemarker record to death, and Media Reader made me look at music reviews from a whole new angle:
"We believe that the complete package is essential for a proper review of an "artist", and, even more importantly, of the specific "work of the artist" that you are sending us. We see no separation between art and music (in fact, music is art) and thus review not only the music but also the design and contents of the record."
So, well... Mr Laney is an American gentleman. This album has a German title. He lives in Hamburg now. Does that say anything about the music? Nope. I just thought I'd drop some random info here. And now, in the spirit of Media Reader, let's have at the artwork... awesome! It's extremely simple: just white and pink handwriting on black backgrounds, but it works. In fact, it works much better than an all computerized and clean design work would in this case. The music is dirty, the lyrics are personal, and the artwork reflects just that. Extra bonus points for the tasteful of magenta without letting it even remotely look like some teenie metal "emo" band!
The music... well... it KICKS FUCKING ASS! Maybe I have been listening to too much Black Flag in my life (if that's even possible at all!), but some of the song structures remind me of Black Flag. In fact, the chorus of the first song sounds exactly like "Rise Above" (if you make your own phonetic version of the lyrics, like I do all the time...). The second song, "Bad Luck, Motherfucker", is my favorite song on the whole album, it rocks so hard it's almost ridiculous. And more than that, it makes me feel alive.
So, from one old punk to another: thank you, Dave Laney! Your music is on fire with passion. I can hear it. I can fucking feel it. I can relate to a lot of the lyrics. That was a pretty bad review of a pretty good record, I know. I just feel that I really can't do it any justice by just describing it. Just listen to it, and you'll know what I mean. This is punk rock 2010. There is hope.
Sometimes it's a good thing if I don't write a review right away. Some things need time. Some things only make sense when the time is right. When I first listened to Restless Rubes, I was like "uhm, well, ok". Today is March 1st. Today is the first real warm and sunny day of the year, and all of a sudden it all clicked, and it all made sense.
I guess Ninja Gun are punk kids at heart. They did split EPs with Fake Problems and the mighty Whiskey & Co., and their lyrics clearly show where they come from - but still, Restless Rubes is a pop record. And no, that's not a contradiction. I mean, come on... fucking London Calling is the prime example of a pop record made by punks. So there.
First of all, the production is superb. "Superb" in a major label, big budget kind of way, but without sounding too slick and polished. There is a certain depth and warmth to the sound that makes a whole lot of dirt shine through. And if you know me, you know how much I love dirt - or, in the words of Jason Jessee: "I like to fall on my face. I like to hurt myself. I like everything!" So what we have here is a pop album that might appeal to three old boys and aging ex-punks at the same time, and this is something that doesn't happen every day. When I still had a regular 9 to 5 day job, I would play Samiam and Sense Field all the time, because I fucking loved these bands (still do!) and nobody felt annoyed. Ninja Gun should be filed in the same category. Sure enough, this isn't a record to piss off frat boys and cops and co-workers, but what the fuck... this is 2010, and a Born Again$t t-shirt is not going to change the world.
Restless Rubes might not make it into any top 10 lists this year, it might not become anybody's favorite record, but if you seriously give it two or three chances, it's a rock solid album that you will find yourself coming back to. You might even dig it so much that you will save three copies from a sales CD bin as birthday presents. In the meantime, I will keep my fingers crossed that it actually does not end up in sales bins. It's simply too good for that.
Depending on which dictionary you use, growth is, among many other things "development from a simpler to a more complex stage", or "something that has grown or developed by or as if by a natural process".
