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MP3 Paranoid Social Club - Axis II
12 MP3 Songs in this album (48:49) !
Related styles: Rock: Funk Rock, Pop: Pop/Rock, Mood: Party Music
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In my review of their demo, I wrote of Paranoid Social Club that their “history as Rustic Overtones — which would have morphed into Paranoid Social Club eventually — makes lead singer Dave Gutter, bassist Jon Roods, and drummer Marc Boisvert aware of the cold music-biz realities and the responsibilities that come with them. But that experience has also left them profoundly jaded, insular, and a little bit crazy.” And, though this official album release contains three new songs, the fundamental qualities of their music haven’t changed. If anything, they’ve been amplified.
One of the new songs leads off the disc, actually. “Bully” is a manic, crazed explosion of a song, featuring the fiery voice of 6gig’s Walt Craven and the tortured rhymes of Portland’s hip-hop hero du jour, Poverty. The tune borders on the industrial, with sounds coming in and out from all over the place. Poverty’s rapped bridge, featuring lines like “ugly as me,” “the day that I fall,” and “people are evil” serves to cement PSC’s holistic mission from the outset. They’re serious about being a haven for the disaffected. They’ve replaced Rustic swagger with self flagellation made cool.
How about the ultra-cynical “Ricochet”? What a horrible, if realistic, portrait of society — set to a soundtrack of gunshots ringing out in the background. “Everybody’s got a gun, even your ex-girlfriend,” the “mailman’s going postal going door to door,”ü“suburban kids get bored,” and one man goes nuts “cuz Vietnam it wasn’t planned ahead/ He killed them for his country/ Now he wishes Uncle Sam was dead.” They have staked themselves to the ever-pervasive malaise that’s running rampant through our youth. Why might Johnny be having trouble at school? Maybe it’s because it “Seems like everyone’s got a gun these days” and you have to “Watch out for the ricochet.”
Gutter’s vocals have never sounded more anguished than on the final new song, “Fucking with My Head.” He is desperate, as is the music, with haunting chords in the background, and Boisvert drums that roll and splash with abandon. “Do what you want with my possessions/ You can even wear my clothes/ You’re not f---ing with my head.” Rock music has always been a bullhorn for the voices of the disenfranchised youth. What’s coming out of this amplification device is important, and more than a little frightening.
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