The Ratz – “After The Blackout”
I know I’m supposed to write something here.
Oh, yeah! About The Ratz.
They’re a band that formed in the sixties, a motorcycle gang really that plays surf music, I believe, because they were featured in the academy award winning movie, “Beach Blanket Bingo,” starring Frankie Avalon and Annette Funicello.
It was great how musicians could play electric guitars on the beach then- without any electricity! You see, it was solar powered back then, even in the early sixties.
Wait a minute. This is all wrong. Let me press the delete button and start this all over again.
I know I’m supposed to describe The Ratz to you but I’m not sure I can do that.
Yeah, I know the terms of my contract state that if I don’t fulfill its’ requirements. My boss, Andy Bang, will take me to court and get every last thing I own, meaning- every last beer! Every last drop of Jagermeister out of my refrigerator.
I know some people take pride in their bank statements, but I pay more attention to how well stocked my fridge is with booze. That is how I judge worth.
But why? Oh, fair Slimedog are you confused? You do seem a bit befuddled?
Well, this band has four members who equally share lead vocals. And a couple of them are lost and bewildered, too, as they are members of The Lost Riots from Connecticut, one of my favorite bands, and another one is a damn broad from Damn Broads, now defunct but one of my favorite bands TNB has covered.
So, it’s no surprise I like this band. Even though, I am as lost and bewildered as a sheep that has strayed too far from its flock.
But though they tag themselves as old school hardcore- I see a lot of traditional punk and garage also, in their music.
I’ve mentioned this several times to my shepherd. But she just clucks her tongue in derision.
But more importantly I hear them as some really great music.
So I can’t scrutinize or categorize them as if I was a rare butterfly collector assigning them to what strain of species they’re a part of. I’ll leave that to Andy Bang, which is what he does on his day job, skipping over hills in his silly hat and net, trying to catch the next rare specimen.
It just makes me think that garage begat punk that begat hardcore. And that begat means- to bring to life, to bring about.
And I think this band is influenced and taking the best part of their influences to create something new.
So in lieu of bringing children into existence, let’s just listen to what The Ratz just begat us to hear:
“I don’t care what you’ve got to do. I don’t care what you’ve got to say. I don’t care about anything.” So starts “I Don’t” a positive, uplifting punkish hardcore ditty that suggests a fist fight in an alley between the Circle Jerks and The Ramones. It also suggests someone in need of an anger management class. But when it produces a song so passionate and strong and intensely fun as this one- I say- skip the classes and write some more great songs!
“Feel my power, feel my rage. I’m living it everyday.” Another positive, uplifting song called “Destroy You.” This is a boppin’, little number with fuzzing guitars, skate punk energy and female background vocals that recalls another favorite band of mine, New Hampshire’s Time Out Timmy.
With some slashing, guitar chords slicing out like knives going for the jugular, “You’re Dead” grabs you by the ears and promises one last, aural dinner right before you’re led to the death chamber. Lotsa fuzzed out guitars, slammin’ surf beats, a dab of a psychedelic guitar and intense vocals all make it good for me experience life and to be alive. Such a great tune.
A rollickin’ barrage of sound barrels out at the first second of this song, “Let’s Get Drunk Tonight.” A notion I’ve often pondered, but as of yet, I’ve not had the pleasure to experience. Perhaps, I will at some time. With the multiple voices all singing, the chorus makes me think of “TV Party” by Black Flag. Hey, I might be a straight-edge vegan who always covers his mouth when he coughs, and leaves the toilet seat down but please intoxicate your ears with this one hundred proof pure musical liquor, taken orally and aurally through your ears.
I know I’m supposed to write something here.
But I’m afraid I’ll just ramble on with some nonsensical hallucinations that, unfortunately, aren’t some drug induced fantasies but are actually, the product of a very disturbed mind.
But really, there’s no reason for me to write anything more and you don’t need to see words to back up what your ears should plainly tell you.
That this is some kick ass, powerful, truthful hardcore punk that roars like a lion, the King of the Jungle, laying claim over his domain, that screams like some prey as the jaws grip down upon its’ throat, some creature that wails in the night with the frustration of what life dictates- what has to be, and if you don’t think that amounts to something, rare and perfect and right-
Then obviously, you are on the wrong site.
Or at least, on the wrong beach.
(Slimedog)
