Jun
01
from The Gumshoe Grove, August 12, 2009:
I’m getting to be such a whore for certain writers I’ll upchuck acres of green, stinky cash to get in on the magic they often say they’re experiencing. Doug Mosurock’s review of Blast Off Motherfucker! talked about a Chicago scene I’ll never experience and — as it turns out — a band I’ll never experience, and now, goddamn it, I want to at least experience Dead At 24‘s simply disgusting dissection of punk and post-punk (and whatever else) if I can.
And, as always, Mos is right on the money. Blast Off Motherfucker! is to dirty, tonedeaf backward-jangle punk what “Kick Out the Jams” (motherfucker!) was to proto-punk. Not that I see a big future in continuing the legacy of DA24; you’re gonna have to wait another 10 years at least to hear stuff like this outside of the clandestine corners of the indie underground.
Read More…
Jun
01
from Siltblog, July 6, 2009:
Excuse me for sayin so, but when I first got a gander’ve the goobs what make up Dead At 24 I thought I was lookin at a Speaking Canaries tribute band! And seein as how they’s both (at one time) Pittsburgh related, it didn’t seem like a stretch. But nerd glasses ‘n pencil necks aside, that’s where them comparisons end. Dead At 24 wears a rustbelt heart proudly on their collective sleeve; the name is a reference to Pete Laughner & his age of death + much’ve the musical vibe herein is pumped w/a pulsing heart of darkness. Lot’s of the lyrics sort’ve remind me of one’ve the Klimek’s too, I just ain’t figured out which. From what I can glean (accordin to the 8 page booklet enclosed), this ‘Blast Off Motherfucker!’ lp was originally a cassette released in ’96. I would’ve reckoned sooner as such a big gob’ve the b-side sounds painstakingly cut & pasted off’ve Dead C’s DR 503 lp. But hey, even then there weren’t a whole lot’ve Dead C worship, so I ain’t gonna ride’em too hard for it. At least they wasn’t sittin around aping Spacemen 3 (ding!). My fave track on here is ‘Breakin My Heart Again’ where’s they crackle like a Culturcide bonfire surroundin a Christchurch garage what’s been transported to the Flats’ve of Cleveland. The rest…..let me say that for the most part I’m charmed by their nascent hubris & determination. Plus I think it’s great someone gave the green-light to this as a worthy vinyl artifact ( much like that Lames one sided deal released last decade) even if it’s 10+ yrs after the fact. I’m guessin their Theiner connection’s was slim at best, but hey, PGH is only big enough for one dweeb at a time to parade around in a Ramleh t-shirt, so whatya gonna do?
Jun
01
from Still Single, May 26, 2009:
I think I saw Dead At 24 once or twice. The Rickety organization, a loose and welcoming circle of musicians, artists, connoisseurs and well-wishers, cast a wide net around the short hair and neck-bulging aggression of Pittsburgh’s indie rock community in a time of schism, when math rock started to get tired, attitudes ran hot, and much of the country was stalled out in growing bliss. I was in college, it was like 1996 or 1997, and I was painfully unaware of the world around me, yet I threw myself into this morass of personalities with one that reflected and amplified all the bad vibes and neediness that nobody wanted with unbearable focus. No fun, my friends, no fun. No friends, either. Well, that’s not entirely true, but a lot of the decade is blacked out for me, like Watergate transcripts, due to hard lessons learned. I got through it OK, I guess. I drank a lot more back then than I ever would now because I wasn’t legally allowed, but a fake ID (PA drivers’ licenses used to be so easy to “correct”) gained me access to the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern, the Next Decade, and the 31st Street Pub (Dee’s on weekends, where the lost men go), and the 61 bus took me to the edge of Wilkinsburg, within walking distance of the Turmoil Room. Nothing else for young Doug to do but slowly go deaf to rock bands and chug Straubs and Rolling Rocks by the sixer. (Straubs came in a plastic bag with a cinch around the top, perfect for refilling with puke once you finished all the beers). “Mostly Fresh.” Read More…
