The Martians – “Missing Time”
I really like Keith Morris- I guess I’d pick Minor Threat as my favorite hardcore band but Keith, with all his in-between song bullshit, is still the man to me.
He’s playing this month in Cambridge with Flag, who seem to be the best reincarnation of Black Flag going around. I saw a full live performance on you tube from someplace like San Bernardino, California and it was a really, really great show.
But Keith doesn’t believe in having local bands play with him and that doesn’t sit right with me. And when I think about it, wasn’t he in his prime about ’83?
I’m not going to see Flag. You can try to experience what should be my nostalgia and that’s okay but it seems pointless. And I haven’t been to the Sincalir in Cambridge but it sounds like one of these “big” places that have as much personality as a Chili restaurant.
(Okay pay a lotta money for a ticket for Flag, then parking, then buy those Bud Lights in the plastic containers.)
What I would spend my money on is the new Martians EP for one dollar- it’s worth every cent.
And I’d rather see these guys live, right now in their prime than Keith Morris or the many other bands touring, living off their old past glories. And more power to them, they more than deserve it, but it’s just not for me.
But The Martians are out of this world, with their second EP springing from their fruitful loins this year, and I think they are a blast.
With a fire alarm guitar lick being set off, much like The Clash’s “White Riot”- “Danny Sucks” clicks on with a charging, ringing call to arms! “Don’t ever fuck with Danny he said he used to box/ But the only thing I’ve ever seen him hit is a meat lovers pizza with extra soft crust.” Yes! And if you don’t believe that’s high falutin’ poetry up there with Walt Whitman and Allen Ginsburg…well, you can go stick your eye in a wall socket. What’s so great about this tune is the buoyant optimistic tone of the verse is quickly followed by the chorus that says, “Danny sucks, he sucks.” Reverse psychology, you see, or the sleight of the hands- so when I tell you this song sucks believe me. And don’t believe me when I say that this is the best song I’ve heard all year by one of my favorite new bands, too. Because it and Danny sucks.
“Going To The Party” starts with a 1-2-3-4, a melodic Buzzcocks like riff and exuberance and excitement exploding from every pore. “Going to the party/ I got a six-pack.” Sounds kinda ordinary to me, but the fun and sparks, energy and passion are bouncing off the tracks of the music going off a cliff beyond your mind and sailing your brain into La-La land. This song is too fast to digest and too good to be included in real life. “I never drank Tequila but I’ll give it a whirl.” This is a girl groups sixties pop song, ram-a-lama ding dong, early Ramones, drunk punk party song that fully exceeds in every direction it proceeds to and that your Tequila and beer induced vomit is now spewing.
“Missing Time” starts with some ringing guitars, and recalls an old Replacements song, as the rhythm’s bum rushed along while the vocals bleat. “I don’t want to do nothing, unless I’m doing nothing with you.” You can take any sappy, romantic lyric that made your lap moist at your senior prom and it won’t match the beauty and the purity of that line. The vocal on the chorus yelps and leaps over tall buildings while the drums cut and hits hard. This is emotion catapulted with rhythm and feeling and shines bright and hard across the sky with conviction, honesty and passion. And there’s nothing missing from this song that could make it or life or your fuckin’ weird relationship any better than this-
Because this is punk rock with the barn animals escaping with the barn door loose again. This is punk rock with the band members vomiting in the alley before the show or after. This is punk rock when the next dollar’s uncertain but the next party is guaranteed. This is punk rock where your life is swirling down the toilet but your band is the best, and you’re having the most fun you’ve ever seen.
The Martians are pop/punk with out the putrefying, noxious smells that have been associated with that term at times.
They are not slick or packaged, they’re tuneful but their melodies are sung like guitars slightly out of tune. These are punks tossing their vocals to the wind without a care because they know, or at least hope, that the emotion, the words, the feeling will hit hard and right. And if their voice fails them or their fingers land on the wrong strings. it will still work, because their souls and minds and hearts are hitting where it really matters- with full emotions, truthful guts and mind shattering soul.
And these travelers from another planet don’t so much cop the early style of New York/ England punk as much as they tap into the blood and guts that made it work. The emotions, the feelings, the words, the vibes, the things that letters and words grasp at but can’t fully snatch-
IT’S HERE! IT’S RIGHT THERE…GODDAMNIT! Stuff it in your gullet, run naked though the trees and be glad with glee it’s here.
Envelope and devour every second, every morsel, every scrap of it, it’s substance will last a lifetime.
I KNOW IT’S TRUE BELIEVE ME- I was there at year zero and this is the best you’re gonna get, in any year.
(Slimedog)
