Blackout Shoppers – “More Abuse”
I work the beat of Boston and I report on the beat of the Boston punk scene. And I’d been asked to check out some suspicious characters traveling in from New York, “Blackout Shoppers.”
Damned if I knew what that meant. But then I put on my thinking cap and a light bulb lit above my head. It could be someone too drunk to remember what they bought or, more likely, doing a little shopping when the city is suffering a “black out”, a little looting, you see?
New York’s a great city and Boston is one, too. In New York there are lots of friendly people, who are accepting of different nationalities and lifestyles, don’t bullshit and work hard and a nightlife that can’t be beat. Of course, they do say stuff like, “I had an oar-full time in Bor-ston, I couldn’t find a decent cup of core-fee,” but I’ll let that slide.
I checked in with that stumble-bum, Jim, who hangs by the downtown pool-halls all day but he was no help. Then I thought of Mitzi- my kind of broad.
When you find the right dame it’s like finding a pearl from the ocean. It’s like when you’ve been a goddamn fisherman all your life and all you’re hauling up is smelly fish and then one day, there she stands before you- a mermaid of the sea.
I track her down at her usual haunt, the Midway Cabaret. She’s heard of them, tells me they’re skate punk to the max. “You could call them hardcore ’cause they do play fast, “ she says to me, “But you’d be missing that this is more like the original punk with only a little bit of that heavy New York hardcore seeping in. If you get some nickels the entire recording disk is in the juke box.”
A couple of dry martinis, bartender, and a dollars’ worth of nickels, please.
“The Alma” starts off like some wild surf band all cranked up on meth riding surfboards while Frankie Avalon’s head is fed into a meat-grinder. Kind of like The Ventures on crack or that song from Pulp Fiction. But all that’s a pretty interlude for when the vocals come in smacking you in your trap for talking smack and destroys you with guitars at full steam. Then it proceeds to knock you over with drums like a chopping block and clobbers you with back up vocals with an exuberant call to eliminate all living senses. Which they do…with glee.
[audio:https://www.thrashnbang.com/wp-content/music/01-The Alma.mp3|titles=The Alma]
“Bum Juice” is a lovely ditty obviously influenced by the more esoteric work of Sting and Peter Gabriel. And actually, this is not the song with the same name popularized by Katy Perry. This is in your face bile and spite, spit out in the face of society. “We’re not taking any more abuse, we’re just movin’ to destroy the juice.” This is an awesome, passionate sound blast in your face- savor the aroma and imbibe.
[audio:https://www.thrashnbang.com/wp-content/music/03-Bum Juice.mp3|titles=Bum Juice]
“Where Is My Towel” is a song that makes me think it’s a long lost Minor Threat song. If a song makes me think of Minor Threat then, in my mind, I don’t need to add anything more.
[audio:https://www.thrashnbang.com/wp-content/music/04-Where Is My Towel.mp3|titles=Where Is My Towel]
“New Jack” starts with some bass jacking off but then the drums pull him aside as the guitars start jack-hamming. A little stop and stutter in allegiance to the heavy hardcore but then we’re dragged headlong back into the skate punk fury.
[audio:https://www.thrashnbang.com/wp-content/music/09-New Jack.mp3|titles=New Jack]
“Ten High” is the punk passion piled high along with volatile vocals while drums roll like surfers on acid. The Ventures pop their heads into the scene only to have their heads cut off as blood spurts onto a beach towel and the surf brings the dead surfers to the shore as punk is shown to be the jaws of sharks.
[audio:https://www.thrashnbang.com/wp-content/music/10-Ten High.mp3|titles=Ten High]
Now it’s time for a two way ticket to New York to further investigate. I’m left off in Little Italy….twenty four hours pass.
I awake in the gutter, outside the Empire State Building. The pigeons have crapped on my shoes; the Daily Press has embraced me during the night. Sticks of Rigley’s spearmint gum hang in clumps in my hair, nose and otherwise.
I thought, “There’s gotta be a reason why they do this racket- the Blackout Shoppers- seems like there’s no money here?” And then a light bulb went on above my head. They do it for no reason, no logical thought, but they do it for a feeling, call it love if you like. But it’s a feeling, “a passion that breaks reason in two.” Lou Reed, another New Yorker, said that.
The wind blows the empty hamburger wrappers down the gutters of the streets I walk upon. I take little notice at first but realize, they’re like our dreams, our lives, our minds blowing away in the moments of our steps, in the schemes and screams and scenes of our past, as our lives move forward.
I ponder Blackout Shoppers. Then I lit a cigarette and looked up into the sky.
This is a band that plays all the skyscrapers, the streets, the heated vents behind the public library where the homeless go in an attempt not to freeze to death in the winter night. This is not the notes or style or music- but this is what they play.
This is New York City but this is also City City- meaning any big city in America where if you don’t fight you’re crushed below, down below the skyscrapers, but if you survive you come out tougher, wiser, and able to tell a tale of passion and survival, of love and redemption, of dreams and real life reality. This is what punk music of the city does and this is what the Blackout Shoppers do.
But sometimes you have to deal with the cards life has dealt you. And instead of some mermaid from the sea, like Mitzi, you’re left with a soggy tuna salad sandwich from Al’s down the block, a bag of chips and a cup of core-fee.
But I can take that. I take it all in. Like a drag off a cigarette I take the poison of life and exhale it out and relax in the knowledge that whatever I figure out won’t change a damn thing- so why do I do it?
The laugh’s on me, my friend, and the jokes on you, as well. But the Blackout Shoppers are a pretty fine band laying down some songs that are so full of fun they should be a crime.
In fact, I think it is now. And if that’s a fact…well, lock me up and throw away the key.
(Slimedog)
funny think about lyrics, when you write em it’s always interesting to hear how the listener hears it. We play live and Im surprised people are in my face singing along with what I’m screamin about. Anyway, Bum Juice is a fun one. Basically about low-rent drink (Ten High, by the way is in that category of beverage). rather than destroying the juice, which we are wont to do, it’s more about lookin to score the juice. (or some juice, I mix it up to be honest). Lovely review. Glad you dig it. -seth a.