the thermals...

I was listening to a new punk rock album during my morning commute today. It was an album I popped in based on a song I heard and enjoyed on the radio. The first song on the album is an awesome aural kick in the pants, but as I listened more closely to the lyrics, I feared I had been duped into listening into a Christian punk band:

God reached his hand down from the sky
He flooded the land then he set it on fire
He said, "Fear me again. No, I'm your father.
Remember that no one can breathe underwater"

So bend your knees and bow your heads
Save your babies, here's your future
Yeah, here's your future

Thankfully, as the first song transitioned into the second, my fears were mollified by the obviously tongue-in-cheek, semi-bitter lyrics of a disillusioned, estranged Christian like myself:

Locust tornadoes, crosses, and Nazi halos
They follow, they follow
Ashes and friends, ass-backwards medicines
They follow, they follow

You know I might need you to lead
And part the sea so we can cross if they follow us still
I might need you to kill
Every room and every human at will

The album, The Body, The Blood, The Machine, is the 2006 release from The Thermals. And while each song continued to rock my TwinSix sock, the lyrics became muddied as my mind became distracted by the thought: can an album be enjoyed despite one's fundamental issues with the lyrics?

What if the album in question had continued in the vein of God-rock while still maintaining a punk-like sound (a la MXPX... though their sound arguably sucks)? Could I continue to listen to the music, enjoying the overall experience by ignoring the meaning behind the words?

Sigur Ros is a group I enjoy, and they sing in a completely made-up language. The overall experience is unbelievably gratifying - like the speakers of my stereo are making sweet, sweet love to my ear canal. I could name many other bands I enjoy whose lyrics are either ridiculous, nonsensical, or meaningless - but for some reason, the idea of being fed Zealotry via music is unsettling... nauseating even.

Thankfully, with The Thermals, I don't have to worry. To me at least, they are true blue punk rock. The instrumentation comes together flawlessly. The lyrics are an oftentimes cynical reflection on the state of the US government, the lack of separation between church and state, and the hypocrisy of organized religion.

Most importantly, they provide to their listener the overwhelming and indescribably need to rock out.

rock on...

Sunday I get a phone call from some of my friends in Troy NY. "Rob, you live close to Philly right?" "Yeah...?" "You should come meet us for dinner and then go see Erik Petersen and Robert Blake." So Sunday night I rolled up to Kingdom of Vegetarians for some awesome vegan dim sum, some ridiculous behavior, and truly tasteless conversation. I miss these kids a whole lot sometimes.

"you may not want to sit near us if you have any Christian values..."

Afterward, we rolled into west Philly's LavaZone to see the above artists. Mischief Brew is Erik's band - they are some brand of folk-punk and generally kick ass. Robert Blake is a folk singer from Washington State - also kicks ass. Got there in time to see Blake finish his set, and stayed on to see Mischief Brew.

Mischief Brew

Robert Sarazin Blake

Mischief Brew rocks.

It was funny seeing all the hipsters at the show. "Punk" shows sure have changed alot along the way. One rolled up pant leg, bike gloves, and a messenger bag were regular fashion accessories, as were the PBRs in hand. Somehow, punk and hipster are now synonymous. It's cool I guess, I really don't give a shit if people are getting together and enjoying each other and good music. And to some degree, it's always been about the fashion too.

PBR: delicious, and it goes great with taper leg jeans.

I was never around for the first wave of hardcore, and would never claim to know that first hand. Though I was around during the third wave, when FSU would show up at New England shows and make good on their name. The shows were so much fun, rebellion at any level felt good, and there was just more energy than 4 walls, a stage, and a ceiling could contain.

I wonder if the former owner of this button knows who the Specials are?

In a lot of ways that hasn't changed. There was still great energy. Dancing, a pathetic pit (not that I was ever one for throwing punches), singing along, fingers pointing at the ceiling. Erik's mic cut out for the last 3 songs so it was up to the crowd to do the work. Olde Tyme Mem'ry and Roll Me Through the Gates of Hell closed the set - two awesome songs meant for crowd chorus. Yeah, the kids will be alright.

For the uninformed, the finger tells fellow crowd members: "I know this part of the song."

Saw this on the way home:

The lamest billboard I have EVER seen.
No self respecting cyclist who drinks beer would go within a leg's reach of this shit.