Chanticlear – “Old Glories and War Stories”
Some times things need to change, move forward. Some times things are fine, stay the same.
Chanticlear is a band I have a faint recollection of back when I was discovering that there still was a punk scene in Boston- back around the the turn of the century. After missing the local scene in the nineties, I found some bands that I liked and a group of people I could hang with.
And this was one of those bands around that time but I can’t ever recall seeing them. This was the time I got acquainted with The Dimwits, The Spoilers, Over The Edge and Zippo Raid.
And Joe Zippo, of Zippo Raid, invited me back into the scene. I can clearly recall our conversation at the Abbey when he told me that I fit in pretty good with them, and when I said I thought I was too old, he said he was thirty-five and one of the oldest ones there. He said I shouldn’t worry about that and just do what I want to do.
So I did.
Reading this band’s facebook bio, I guess he was in the band for a couple of years. And this band is run by Joe Riot, a name I do recall but I can’t say if I ever met him.
I can tell you this, though, Chanticlear’s style does reflect the influence of that time, meaning, people who grew up with bands like Rancid, Screeching Weasel and The Queers unlike myself who grew up with The Ramones, The Clash and Johnny Thunders.
Seems like I’m foggy about lots of things. I suppose if you’ve ingested as much booze and life into your brain and body as I have, you’d be a little dazed, too.
But I can tell you this. This is a pure shot of punk, meaning the snarly, snotty kind that spits and vomits and gets blackout drunk. That’s musical life is the equivalent of fast food, white trash drama and embodies the rejects and weirdos of society.
You can call this album punk’n’roll, pop punk or whatever the hell you want to but don’t leave out the mention that it’s energetic, passionate and fun. And if you think that doesn’t rate because it’s not the newest slice of pizza on the block well…sometimes things need to change and sometimes they don’t. And melody and guts and good songwriting is something that should never go out of fashion.
But the proof is in the pudding. Let’s have some.
After a short guitar lick that recalls La Peste’s “Better Off Dead”, Andy Bang’s favorite song next to “Party In The U.S.A.” by Miley Cyrus, “Ghosts On The Radio” starts with- “Where did all the good times go?/ Sunday afternoon all-ages show.” A moderate but pounding hardcore beat sets up a melodic vocal with back up vocals swooping in. Then there’s a chorus with a marching Clash- like beat (“Police On My Back”) and then it’s back to the ringing guitar lick and propulsive beat. “More it change/ It stays the same.” And though this scene has always been the underdog, the unwanted, it shows that the most truth, the most fun, the best songs pop up in the punk scene much like this one. Much like…
A modified rockabilly lick starts off “Girl Crazy” along with the lyrics- “That girl’s been fuckin’ with my brain/ That girl’s been drivin’ me insane.” As this song blazes along with a Ramones- like buzzsaw guitar and a drummer chopping away like a Texas Chainsaw lumberjack, an unexpected chorus pops up much like an unwanted boner. “Fuck ’em/ Fuck ’em/ Fuck ’em/ Whoa-oh-oh-oh.” Yes, like God and Mother Nature intended you to do! “Don’t know what I’m supposed to do/ Don’t know what she’s trying to prove.” And now you have the complete lyrics to this song and now your have a song that is funny, in your face- punk rock, politically incorrect and unless you’re taking care of the situation there is no better place to be.
“Friday night I’m sitting in a bar and I’m drinking a beer.” After three neat shots of guitar and drum hits “Wasted” starts its binge. “When a bottle hits the back of my head from the rear.” What follows is a sad tale of incarceration. “Waking up in a holding sell/ God, I wish it were a cheap hotel/ Can’t afford to pay my bail.” Then a Chuck Berry/ Johnny Thunders solo pops up much like an unwanted boner. This is one nice slice of classic Boston punk rock’n’roll. “Wasted, shitface-ed again.” I’ll drink to that.
A kind of country lick starts off “Worst Friend” a song that seems to move in Replacements territory with a chugging rhythm and crashing power chords. “You are the worst friend I ever had/ Never had/ Ever had.” After a glorious chorus during the second verse a nice high backup vocal pops up much like an unwanted boner. “I’m not remembering any good thing we ever did.” It makes me think of Andy Bang and TNB for some odd reason, but even with that unpleasant notion it’s still my favorite track on the album. This is a wonderfully constructed, lyrically heartfelt song that still has enough grit, power and passion to hit it out of the ballpark for a grand slam tune.
This music contains the core, the heart of Boston punk. All the bands that drank and fucked and laughed and died and crashed and reached the highs just to topple into the gutter but their hearts and blood and souls live on- right here, with bands like this.
I asked Joe Zippo what he thought of this album but he didn’t answer, only because, I think, they have no phone service there. But I think he’d be proud of what I’m doing, and if that is true, there’s no one else’s opinion I am concerned with. And I think, that if he hears this album, and I hope he does because it’s a great one, just like he was, I think he’ll like it, too. I’m sure of it, and I think he’ll be pretty proud of it, also.
No need to place your bets.
It’s a winner.
(Slimedog)
