By SoDak
June 30, 1990, I was excited to see Dead Silence, from Colorado, play another show in Rapid City, South Dakota. They regularly passed through town and served as a major inspiration for many of us in the local punk rock scene. As always, they were incredible. Green Day, who had recently released 39/Smooth, were also playing. They were enjoyable. The other band that night was Admiral, from Pennsylvania. I had never heard of them. They played second, following the local band Xclude. From the very first song, I was awe-struck by Admiral. The four members were dialed-in, delivering an emotionally intense set. I was not sure what the words were, but the vocals had a particular gravity to them, which was matched by the music. I sensed personal conflict and struggle, mixed with desperation and angst. I had goosebumps and was actually moved to tears, which seemed to emerge from a mix of sorrow, joy, and inspiration. Their music was reminiscent of Dischord bands from Washington D.C. in the late 1980s and the start of 1990. By the end of their set, I was exhausted, yet felt cleansed. The performance was absolutely beautiful and powerful. Everyone in Admiral was extremely nice. Some of the members even joined in the dancing, when Dead Silence played later that evening.
Admiral only released two seven-inch records, consisting of six songs in total, which barely covers the songs that they play that night in 1990. Their self-titled record, recorded at Inner Ear Recording Studios, remains a favorite, as it is so closely tied to their performance. It is raw and has an unbridled intensity. All the instruments can be heard clearly. The guitar and bass are very distinct in each song. On “Brother Can You Spare a Dime,” there is a pop in a bass note from time to time, which adds a little magic. The guitar propels the sound forward, with a great tone where there is a touch of distortion and cleanness. The breaks in the song add to the tension, making me want to dance in place, or to join a circle pit, where everyone is celebrating the moment together. When Sean Linwood, the vocalist, sings “Now words upon words / They don’t make sense / Word, word, word / Have you heard / That I and you / Can’t comprehend / That words have no end / Because you see I can’t read / I can’t write,” I get chills. “Horns Lay Silent” starts off very mellow, and then it kicks in with a powerful build. There are backing vocals, singing “woah,” which sound similar to those on some songs by Fuel, another band that existed in the sweet spot, influenced by D.C. bands and Verbal Assault. The closing song, “Seasonal,” feels very meditative, especially during the part where Sean says, “Let the leaves cover me / No, no more they change / Bleeding together rearrange / Say my name, my long-forgotten name / Let it hit your lips as the seasons change.” It closes with a great drum part, as the words, “I remember” echo over and over.
The second seven-inch record, Revolving and Loading, is much cleaner, as far as the recording is concerned. There is more separation in the instruments, and the vocals are more forward in the mix. At first, it took me a little while to get used to it, as I had internalized the sound of the first record. But I quickly settled into this record as well. It retained the intensity. The emotional resonance of the vocals might be even more effective here. The title track is brilliant, reminding me of their performance, where sweat and tears mixed in a feeling of musical ecstasy. “Fit” verges on the point of losing control—“It doesn’t fit you.” The closing track, “Meter and Rule,” offers a chance to breath with its more sweeping guitar parts.
I really wish Admiral put out more records. Nevertheless, their two seven-inch records are gems from this period of hardcore history. I feel very fortunate to have seen them perform, as I love those moments when a band that I have never heard of completely captivates me.
