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There are no rules on Tickle Your Taint Blog. Our reviewers might make you laugh, or piss you off; both results are legitimate. One reviewer might write a glowing review of an album another might tear it apart. We may end up adopting a single review system, such as five stars, or each reviewer may use his own or none at all. We may have a new review every week or we could end up with one every six months. This blog exists as a social experiment to build community among a diverse group of music maniacs – our reviewers and hopefully you. Pull down your knickers, lube up and join us in tickling yours and our taints.


Sunday, September 19, 2010

New Bomb Turks – Destroy-oh-Boy!

(Crypt, 1993)

Review by Class Warrior

What was the best punk album from the 1990s?  Unfortunately, there are some pretty slim pickings.  Despite a wave of renewed interest in punk rock brought about by various elements (including Bad Religion’s almighty Suffer album reviewed earlier), punks just weren’t making very much good music.  There were some exceptions, certainly, but the ratio of good punk to mediocre/bad stuff was pretty low.

The New Bomb Turks put out this album right after I was really starting to get into the punk underground.  1992 was the beginning year of my discovery of some great music.  I’d been listening to Bad Religion, Black Flag, and similarly well-known bands before then.  When I discovered bands like NBT and Christ on a Crutch and older bands like Blitz, Icons of Filth, and Asta Kask, my mind was blown.  The world of punk rock opened up to me, and it was a lot larger than I had believed previously.

NBT’s songs on this album meet at the intersection of straight-ahead punk rock, early eighties hardcore, and earlier forms of rock from the fifties and sixties.  Tons of energy, hooks aplenty, major chords, an occasional dirt-encrusted guitar lead, and speed, speed, speed.  They went on to craft several more albums, but none of them match Destroy-oh-Boy, their masterpiece.

I am a firm believer that an album’s best song should be second.  The first song should have a “meet the band” sort of feel, if that makes any sense.  In spite of this, I can’t complain about the first (and best) tune, “Born Toulouse-Lautrec”.  Not only does it introduce you to NBT’s sound, but also they begin the long tradition of using clever plays-on-word for song titles.  This song starts off the album right, with big buzzing guitars, galloping drums, and lots of cymbal clashes.  Eric Davidson puts his sneer to excellent use.  He has one of those voices that is instantly recognizable, which, of course, helps to set NBT apart from run-of-the-mill bands.  The lyrics for the song are great too – they feature a nice socialist sentiment and a big jab at artists who think they’re better than everyone else by virtue of their “talent.”  But damn, this song could be about anything and it would still be fucking awesome!  Toward the end of the song it feels like Eric is whipping the rest of the band into a massive frenzy as he shouts “do it boys” and “go!”  This song is a perfect distillation of all the punk rock (and plain old rock) that came before it, while adding NBT’s own fabulous energy to the mix.  Perfect – I do not use this word lightly.  If I made you a mix CD of the best punk songs (hell, the best rock songs) ever, this song would be on there, and it would be one of the first songs I would choose.  It is the Babe Ruth of punk songs.  Heavy, decadent, but it still knocks your ass out of the ballpark every time.

The rest of the album, while excellent, cannot hope to hold up to the heights achieved by “Born Toulouse-Lautrec.”  It is full of great songs, but none of them are quite at that level.  One of my favorites is “Tattooed Apathetic Boys”, which interrupts its speediness with slowed down parts and shouts of “oh yeah, yeah, yeah!”  They also do a half-speed cover of “Mr. Suit” by Wire, which kicks Wire’s ass.

I almost saw this band live in 1994, when they were at the height of their powers, but my ride never showed up.  He was too drunk to function, let alone drive.  An acquaintance of mine saw them that night; he said that they were so good he followed them to their next tour date.  Damn.  I don’t have very many regrets (or at least I don’t have regrets that I’m willing to share here!), but missing NBT is one of them.  This one ranks up there with never having seen the Ramones before they all died.

I used to listen to this album every day during the early and mid 90s.  I don’t listen to it very often anymore, but whenever I pull it out, it still rocks me as hard as ever.  It’s a great album to listen to if you need to get pumped up to do something.  It contains so much energy that it’s hard not to get infected by it.  It is a great sex album if you can find a partner who likes to rock out while between the sheets.  (To those of you who ask if I’m talking about my own love life, I say “no comment”.)  I deem it worthy of 9 out of 10 punk points.  If they had another song that was the equal of “Born Toulouse-Lautrec” on there, it would be a ten point album.

The astute reader will notice that, over the last few months, I have rated a “best punk album” from the 1980s, 1990s, and the 2000s.  “Where is the 70s album?” you ask.  I’m not going to review one because everyone knows the best album is the Ramones’ first LP, which is so well-known they play “Blitzkrieg Bop” at sporting events.  It is my favorite album ever, and it should be yours, too.  I’d rather turn my attention (and yours) to some lesser-known punk and hardcore gems instead of talking about a record that everyone knows is great.  If you don’t have it, go buy it.  You will not regret your purchase.

3 comments:

  1. I was thinking about playing some Tiny Tim or Weird Al CDs during sex so my partner will finally have something entertaining to do between the sheets. Could a good punk album achieve the same goal?

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  2. Dear Anonymous,

    Weird Al and/or a carefully selected punk album might work, but the all-time best sex song is Maurice Ravel's "Bolero". It's slow, repetitive, rhythmic, and lasts fifteen minutes.

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  3. I picked up this record when it was released. “Born Toulouse-Lautrec” made me stop what I was doing. My jaw dropped and I said "Holy Fuck." I immediately played this song over an over, given the intensity of it. Great job.

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