The Ratz – “Broken Bottles, Broken Bones”
I don’t care what you’re gonna say. I don’t care about anyone. I don’t care about anything.
I don’t.
That’s off of my favorite song from this album, “Broken Bottles, Broken Bones”. This song has Ramones simplicity matched with hardcore intensity and on the edge of hysteria vocals along with explosive, traditional punk and garage rock rhythms. Kind of how I would sum up this album or sum up the ingredients for total sonic assault bliss, which is also how I would describe this album.
These here cats, these Ratz are an off-shoot from The Lost Riots from New Haven, Connecticut- the band who has happen to have produced my favorite album/ep I reviewed last year, out of about fifty.
So when I was made aware of this album, I was eager to review it. Once the cost and expenses of producing such a review was met: Pens, notebooks, paraphernalia, alcohol, living expenses, dying expenses, alcohol, internet usage, body abuse-ages. So when it was all totaled and paid up front, the wheels of TNB were set in motion!
So let’s make it like Ike & Tina and roll-
With a growling, ominous bass leaping out from the gutter towards your ears “From The Sewers To The Streets” blasts out with the familiar voice of Jeff from The Lost City Riots. And he’s threatening to, “Come over your house and drink your beer, puke in your sink, rip up the couch.” Remind me not to invite any of these louts to my next book of the month club meeting! A guitar glides along in a distorted smudge/blur while the rhythm’s just one notch short of hardcore. “Bringing it back to the old school.” Well, if that’s where they teach guts and passion they could learn it all right here from this song.
“Another year and a little older, feels like I’m growing colder.” So starts “I’m Fucked,” with a genuine Ramone like vibe. “Shooting heroin,” is certainly fucked but hearing this short, direct, pessimistic missile of truth and realism is the opposite of being fucked, unless you mean “being fucked” in the good way.
With tom-tom beats and a looming, feedbackin’ guitar, “These Streets” crash in with a boost of energy and lyrics that have the every second line refrain “I Just Wanna Go Home.” It reminds me a bit of Black Flag’s classic “Rise Above,” an awesome song to be compared to. I just wanna go musically where this song takes me. It’s so much fun, it’s like a roller coaster on fire that crashes into the sun. I just wanna go!
With guitars going haywire and slicing back and forth like Ginsu steak knives at a Japanese restaurant, “Whores” grabs you by the balls and gets your attention. ‘You’re a fuckin’ whore, who’s a fuckin’ whore? We’re all whores…So is your mother.” Well, that may be, I can’t say, I’m not privy to her sex life, but at least I’m not! I spread my legs, mouth and ass free for anyone! And as hardcore/garage rhythms slash through like a Ginsu steak knife at a Japanese restaurant, this song is a perfect meld of garage/punk music with hardcore lyrics.
“Jackie O” starts out with a sheet of distorted guitar above a rockin’ beat, with a pulverizing Velvets/Ramones guitar attack and a minimalist chorus of “Drink, drive, drink, drive.” This song beats like a jackhammer of passion into your skull and soul. “You know the hours, the bars are closed here. What’re you doin’? You’re still partyin’.” Well, I don’t know about you but I’m writing about a great song at 3 am., my second favorite on this album.
Four fuzzed out chords and a powerful beat leads “Broken Bottle” with the calming, reassuring lyrics, “Got a gun in my hand and a needle in my arm, I’m gonna cause you serious harm,” followed by some sour background vocals. “I’m in work with a broken bottle, I’ll make you wish there was no tomorrow.” The chords move along in a distorted fashion much like the protagonist of this song, while also reminding me a bit of the guitars on Wire’s first album. Another great tune that gives one reason to live.
Broken bottles, broken bones but no broken spirits or promises here.
But you know what gets my speedo in a bunch? It’s hearing people say, “Well, it’s all been done before- why even try?” While in my mind I can see a million, godzillion transformations and mutations and I want to grab these naysayers by the throat and throttle them and say, “But Reginald, there are so many vivacious variations of vicissitudes you could be advocating for in our vapid, vacuous, void of a world.” LIke on thiss great album-
Broken bottles, broken bones but no half-assed punk here.
Lots of folks get about eighty percent of what punk is, or less. The Lost Riots, Damn Broads and very few others get it all. I get lots of requests from bands to review them and unfortunately, I often have to hit the reject button. But this is another band who gets it one hundred percent. Never have any doubt in what you’re doing, Ratz- I don’t, and this isn’t just a refrain from your song.
And I have no doubt about punk. It’s my philosophy and it’s my life. And when I feel it so true and strong, like on this album, goin’ up my spine, putting goosebumps on my arms and causing my lips to turn up and my eyes to tear up- I know I’m hearing the real thing, ’cause then I’m listening more with my heart than my ears.
And that’s the best way to feel.
(Slimedog)
