and posts an interview with some hardcore band

Brass guitarist talks lyrics, inspiration, and Canada.

 

BRASS released a new EP, Look on the Bright Side, on October 21st. The sound reflects the band’s influences—The Bronx, Alexisonfire, At the Drive-In, IDLES, and Refused. Sounds range from hard-charging hardcore to moody and dynamic post-hardcore. Last week, guitar player Tristan Milne took a moment to respond to a few questions.

 

Damon: I just heard the new album. The song “Milestone” sticks out for me. I liked the sense of tension, the dynamics, and, of course, the breakdown at around the 2-minute mark. The song lyrics include the line, “The ground moves right out from under me now / Does anybody else in here feel that?” I like this lyric and the phrasing. Was there a time in your life when an event suddenly seemed to change everything?

 

Tristan Milne: No. When we look back at the dynamic changes in our lives, the thread of what stayed the same is what becomes important. The milestone markers happen, but the crucial aspect is staying on the road.

 

D: What non-musical works or forms of art and media influence you and the band’s music?

 

TM: Painting and photography seem to be the two that we refer to the most when constructing songs. The combination of the immediacy of the recording process, which is like a snapshot of time, while creating on a canvas that has no ties to the physical reality of life is part of what makes music so fun.

 

D: The band comes from East Vancouver. “Bad Neighbours” is presumably about the U.S.A. Tell me a little about Vancouver and East Vancouver from your perspective. And talk a little about British Columbia and Canada. In your view, how does Canada’s proximity to and relationship with the U.S.A. affect Canada?

 

TM: While the band formed in East Van, we all came from different parts of Western Canada. East Van is great because it's been a melting pot that for decades has housed a lot of creatives and progressives. Canada still has its share of backward idiots, so the U.S. scenario isn't surprising to us. Devon has lines in that song about the States, but you can call someone out without denying your own faults, which I think he does effectively.

 

D: What makes you feel good?

 

TM: Sunsets, live drums, great headphones, good weed.

 

The EP, Look on the Bright Side, was released October 21st by Early Onset Records. The band lineup changed a little going into these recordings. Previous albums by BRASS are No Soap Radio (2015) and For Everyone (2018).

something about Dalton Trumbo's "Johnny Got His Gun"

Johnny Got His Gun, a well-known anti-war novel by American writer Dalton Trumbo, chronicles a soldier's waking nightmare. The protagonist is Joe Bonham, a young American whose service in World War I costs him his arms, legs, vision, hearing, and mouth. Bonham, disoriented and displaced, regains consciousness in what turns out to be a hospital bed and gradually realizes the nightmare: that his mind is doomed to live on as the prisoner of a helpless, unidentified, and incommunicable torso on a hospital bed.

Bonham’s reckoning with his fate, his reasons for going to war, and the horror of it all comes amid rushes of pre-war memories. He also uses what remains of his senses to interpret his environment, and he grows determined to communicate with the hospital staff that keep him alive against his will.

Bonham’s extended memory flashbacks did not often connect with me, but some passages set in the present moved me in their intensity of anxiety and outrage.

Notes:

• Johnny Got His Gun was written in 1938 and published in 1939.
• Trumbo was blacklisted by Hollywood but continued working under pseudonyms. The influence of the blacklist soon waned, and he resumed getting credit for his accomplishments during his remarkable career.
• Trumbo directed the 1971 film adaptation of Johnny Got His Gun.
• Hearing Metallica’s single, “One,” around 1992, was my introduction to Johnny Got His Gun. The music video uses clips from the film.

another overly generous review—this time of an Italian death metal band's debut

The influences are classic, but new life runs through these veins

 

Miscreance debut a heavily and colorfully barbed wire of sound on Convergence. The opener “Flame of Consciousness” represents the album well—pointy riffs, deft musicianship, roaring vocals, impatient songwriting, slips of atmospheric interludes, and wildly smooth guitar solos.

 

Forty-two seconds into the second song, “Fall Apart,” a studded few moments of rapid double-bass drumming carry a ready-fire riff. Ten seconds later, the riff changes, and the throat opens up, roaring verbal warfare. And at 3 minutes the mood falls into the young dawn with a guitar solo rising in gorgeous tone.

 

“My Internment” opens with a staircase-climbing dual-guitar riff over a hokey and fun deep voice-over, but from atop the stairs come some of the album’s best vocals—raw, animalistic—enough to terrorize the neighborhood. And at 3:00, Miscreance finally finds a riff that can move you, and the band plays out the song.

 

The young Italians' white-high-top metal recalls genre pioneers Death. Miscreance also cites Atheist and Sadus as influences. But this young band is fresh. The only issue with Convergence is that, over and again on the album, the fun stops as quickly as it starts, and at times it seems no riff is too small.

 

The band issued a demo called From Awareness to Creation in 2018 and put three tracks on a split with Australia’s Vile Creation last November. Convergence was released September 19, 2022, in three formats via Unspeakable Axe Records, Danex Records, and Desert Wastelands Productions. The band plans to tour Europe with Chilean band Ripper in 2023.

 

(posts) a poem, "Lift Your Right Arm"

Lift Your Right Arm

    Lift your right arm, she said.
    I lifted my right arm.
    Lift your left arm, she said.
    I lifted my left arm. Both of my arms were up.
    Put down your right arm, she said.
    I put it down.
    Put down your left arm, she said.
    I did.
    Lift your right arm, she said.
    I obeyed.
    Put down your right arm.
    I did.
    Lift your left arm.
    I lifted it.
    Put down your left arm.
    I did.
    Silence. I stood there, both arms down, waiting for her next
command. After a while I got impatient and said, what next.
    Now it's your turn to give the orders, she said.
    All right, I said. Tell me to lift my right arm.

—Peter Cherches

 

something about “In a Narrow Grave” by Larry McMurtry

Larry McMurtry (1936–2021) was an American novelist and screenwriter who wrote mostly about the West. He was born in Archer City, Texas, about 25 miles from Wichita Falls. In a Narrow Grave, published in 1968, is a collection of Texas-related essays on cowboys, literature, sex, movies, and the life and people in small towns and big cities.

I read a 2018 edition with a new preface in which McMurtry suggests he has grown “weary” of his own prose. He also says, “The essays were a sort of bridge: behind me lay the mystic plain, ahead the metropolis of the muses. I wanted to cross; I hope I have.”

The early essays discuss the making of "Hud," which was shot in the Texas Panhandle and is based on Horseman, Pass By. McMurtry writes: "Hud, a twentieth century Westerner, is a gunfighter who lacks both guns and opponents. The land itself is the same—just as powerful and just as imprisoning—but the social context has changed so radically that Hud’s impulse to violence is turned inward, on himself and his family.” He adds that “His Cadillac is his gun.” McMurtry goes on to say that most of the remaining cowboys are middle-class.

I enjoyed all this.

In later essays on Texas’s big cities, McMurtry writes about Conservatism in Dallas and that “Wealth, violence, and poverty are common throughout Texas, and why the combination should be scarier in Dallas than elsewhere I don’t know. But it is: no place in Texas is quite so tense and so tight.”

McMurtry’s most popular works include Horseman, Pass By (1962), The Last Picture Show (1966), Terms of Endearment (1975), Lonesome Dove (1985), and Brokeback Mountain (2005). Amazing how much great stuff he wrote.

Note: "Hud," released in 1963, is an excellent movie starring legend Paul Newman as Hud Bannon, rebellious son of rancher Homer Bannon, who is played by the great Melvyn Douglas. Newman and Douglas spar, but the tension between Newman and the ruggedly honest Patricia Neal as Alma Brown, the Bannons' housekeeper, is ripe. Patricia Neal, one of my favorites.

a generous note about a Swedish hardcore punk band's EP

If you can’t win by reason

With an earth auger of a sound, “Mental Taxation” kicks off the new galloping seven-minute streak of an EP by Industrial Puke. The opening song’s thick, compressed production and deft chord changes represent the band’s best and only method.

Industrial Puke at times tries a regulated rhythm but cannot long resist the siren of speed. The one break from the forcible run comes at about a minute and a half into “Constant Pressure” with a slamming progression of chords—each chord stands out once from the blur. Then guitars harmonize and the song resumes its inevitable flameout.

The music bullies you, goes straight-ahead with insolent consistency—Industrial Puke happily suffers the hobgoblin of little minds. The band comes from where volume is power, volume overcomes weakness. Sound waves knock through the ear canal and shoulder into the tympanic membrane, like it or not.

The Swedish hardcore punk band started about 5 years ago. Time settling on a lineup and writing songs led us here, to Where Life Crisis Starts. The band put out its debut single and video, “Mental Taxation,” in June 2022, is partnering with Suicide Records to release this EP on September 16th, and plans to issue the full album Born into the Twisting Rope in spring of 2023.

something about dynasties and Great Men

A few months ago, former President George W. Bush delivered a speech during an elbow-rubber’s wine-and-cheese event held at his presidential library in Dallas. The occasion should have gone by unnoticed, but W's remarks drew unexpected attention because of a Freudian slip. Intending to condemn Russian President Vladimir Putin's invasion of Ukraine, W instead decried "a wholly unjustified and brutal invasion of Iraq." In 2003, of course, W invaded Iraq on the claim that Iraqi President Saddam Hussein's regime had weapons of mass destruction and was pursuing a nuclear weapon. The claim proved untrue.

But the part of W's remarks that got me came just before that nauseating gaffe, when W noted that “the Ukrainian people elected Volodymyr Zelenskyy, with whom I Zoomed the other day, by the way—cool little guy—the Churchill of the 21st century."

President George W. Bush gave people nicknames and made little jokes that sometimes, like this “cool little guy” quip, showed how removed rather than how normal W was. After all, he was a Bush, and a Bush is not like other people. To W, Zelensky, a little man with broken English from a strange land, is just another amusing accident of history. Not like a Bush.

Note: Would a Bush have stayed in Kyiv while most of the world was saying the Russians would conquer in a few days?

and quotes something about movie stars

Marc Maron had George Clooney on his podcast not too long ago and tried to ask Clooney about being the movie-star-style leading man, like a Cary Grant or Humphrey Bogart—actors who are always kind of the same in each role. Clooney says he is always still Clooney-ish in his roles because he lacks the talent to lose himself in a character. Clooney's humility, which Maron called out as bullshit, often produced unsatisfying conversation. (But how do you describe star quality? A star is born.) The unsatisfying interview moved me to reread Truman Capote's short sketch of Humphrey Bogart.

If one listens attentively to any man’s vocabulary, it will be noticed that certain key-to-character words recur. With Bogart, whose pungent personal thesaurus was by and large unspeakably unprintable, “bum” and “professional” were two such verbal signposts. A most moral—by a bit exaggerating you might say “prim”—man, he employed “professional” as a platinum medal to be distributed among persons whose behavior he sanctioned; “bum,” the reverse of an accolade, conveyed, when spoken by him, almost scarifying displeasure. “My old man,” he once remarked of his father, who had been a reputable New York doctor, “died ten thousand dollars in debt, and I had to pay off every cent. A guy who doesn’t leave his wife and kids provided for, he’s a bum.” Bums, too, were guys who cheated on their wives, cheated on their taxes, and all whiners, gossipists, most politicians, most writers, women who Drank, women who were scornful of men who Drank; but the bum true-blue was any fellow who shirked his job, was not, in meticulous style, a “pro” in his work. God knows he was. Never mind that he might play poker until dawn and swallow a brandy before breakfast; he was always on time on the set, in make-up and letter-perfect in his part (forever the same part, to be sure, still there is nothing more difficult to interestingly sustain than repetition). No, there was never a mite of bum-hokum about Bogart; he was an actor without theories (well, one: that he should be highly paid), without temper but not without temperament; and because he understood that discipline was the better part of artistic survival, he lasted, he left his mark.