BLACK FLAG: WHAT THE... (2013)
1) My Heart's Pumping; 2) Down
In The Dirt; 3) Blood And Ashes; 4) Now Is The Time; 5) Wallow In Despair; 6)
Slow Your Ass Down; 7) It's So Absurd; 8) Shut Up; 9) This Is Hell; 10) Go
Away; 11) The Bitter End; 12) The Chase; 13) I'm Sick; 14) It's Not My Time To
Go-Go; 15) Lies; 16) Get Out Of My Way; 17) Outside; 18) No Teeth; 19) To Hell
And Back; 20) Give Me All Your Dough; 21) You Gotta Be Joking; 22) Off My
Shoulders.
Good title. Anyone up for a new «Black Flag»
album, the band's first in 17 years, with Ron Reyes, a.k.a. «Chavo Pederast»,
returning to work with Greg Ginn? And no Rollins, no Kira, no Bill Stevenson,
in short, nobody of particular interest, in addition? And with an album cover
that could only be interpreted as a kiddie parody on the classic Raymond
Pettibon artwork of old? They say that Ron Reyes designed the cover himself —
wouldn't surprise me in the least. The guy's painting talents are a fairly good
match for his singing ones.
I have no idea why, after all those years of
experimentation, Ginn decided to return to the stultifyingly rigid approach of
the «classic hardcore punk» formula. Twenty-two «songs» over forty-two minutes,
mostly played at fast tempos and each one written according to the same recipé:
multi-tracked guitar riff, funky bassline, and a guy howling out anti-social
proclamations as if he were suffering from an acute stomachache that just won't
go away. If this is an attempt to go back to the ascetic values of Damaged, it's a total stylistic and
substantial failure, but I don't really think this is what it is. More likely,
it is an attempt to get back to the roots of the roots — for once, Ginn has
decided that he has had enough with experimentation and that, perhaps, at this
particular point of time the most experimental thing to do would be to produce
a deliberately non-experimental
record.
Which would all be fine and dandy, if not for
two things. First, these riffs are bad. I'd honestly rather have two or three
good riffs, spread over long numbers, than twenty-two riffs that are impossible
to distinguish from each other — in the end, what with the short running
lengths and all, it all falls together in one thick riff soup. Worse, for some
reason, Ginn settles on a different, previously unfavored, guitar sound for
him: double-tracked in stereo and run through some sort of wah-wah pedal that
creates a constant «bubbling / perking» effect, obscuring the melody; such
things might be okay for a brief climactic solo, but when they are at the very
base of the sound and never leave that base, you soon begin wondering what the
hell is going on.
Second, I can fully understand Ron Reyes'
artistic decision to bawl over each single recording like your friendly
beer-chuggin' neighbor with a thick skull and poor social skills — for all I
know, that description might apply to «Chavo» in real life — but the truth of
the matter is that, merely two or three songs into this nightmare of an album,
the combination of Ron's «vomit into the microphone» and Greg's «use the guitar
as a baseball bat» approaches starts giving me such a terrible headache that
sitting through this muck even once
becomes a heroic feat, and every attempt at a second or third listen only
makes it worse. If the powers-that-be still accept immoral suggestions, I would
certainly advise them to add the album to the National Registry of «Potential
Guantanamo Torture Devices for Future Use».
In fact, were this an instrumental record, we'd
all feel better — you could treat it as some sort of Metal Machine Music, an arrogant move to remind us that «hardcore»
is really all about being unbearable, and that the aural suffering that you
experience should work as shock therapy. But with the vocals in tow,
«unbearable» becomes «unbearably dumb», and that is a different beast. Hearing
Ron Reyes holler "shut up! shut up! just shut the fuck up!" or
"get out of my way!" or any other single imperative chorus with the
intonations of an unrefined street gangster is stupidity's death blow to any possible
signs of intelligence. The fact that Ginn employs the theremin on some of the
tracks is completely irrelevant in the light of this circumstance; no ʽGood
Vibrationsʼ or ʽWhole Lotta Loveʼ can come out of this mess.
The only «good news» is that Reyes only lasted
a short time in this version of the band, being quickly ousted by Mike Vallely
— but, frankly speaking, everybody is responsible for the failure, and Ginn, as
the leader, should take most of the blame. A tremendous disappointment,
especially for those fans who actually did wait for a new Black Flag album all
these years, and let us not kid ourselves by offering the usual justificatory
excuses ("they had to move on", "they dislike being
pigeonholed", "this is the way the band sounds in the 21st century,
deal with it", etc.): this album is just downright stupid, and I am sure
that even Greg Ginn's greatest fans understand it in their hearts. One of the
most assured thumbs
down I've ever given out.
Check "What The..." (CD) on Amazon
Check "What The..." (MP3) on Amazon
"the band's first in 17 years"
ReplyDeleteDid you skip an album from 1996 or do you have problems calculating 2013 - 1986 ?
Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the era of classic punk and hardcore bands suffering their Senior Moments. In public.
ReplyDeleteIn Ginn's defense, this release was probably forced on him, due to the pressing need to head off another bunch of alumni who are currently touring as Flag.