DUMSPELL

 

If you dig back through the archives, you'll find several posts where I talk about the magic of the Everything Is Not OK gigs that Ross curated last decade. It was truly something else to see other people (and punks but not just punks) feeling seen and celebrated, and I dare say that I haven't had any (or at least not many) punk related euphorias that have matched those weekends in the years since. The Mississippi punks were a huge part of those vibes, rolling up en masse and supporting each other. Lifting each other up and making sure that the rest of us saw their friends and their scene for what is was - creative, vibrant, determined....important. So today, seven plus years after a long drive back to California, I'm jamming this two song DUMSPELL tape and thinking to myself "yeah...that shit really was magic." And I'm grateful to (have) be(en) a witness. 

COWBOY SLUMBER PARTY

WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN

 

There's not really much that can be said about WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN. Simply put, they are among the greatest unheralded DIY punk bands of the 1990s, and those who are familiar the band already know this. But how to describe them to the uninitiated....? That's tougher - and that's why I started the post with "there's not really much that can be said..." because what do you say about something that is damn near perfect? FUCKFACE played with them in Mississippi in 1995 and we were floored, a frenetic mess of flawlessly crafted pop punk songs played at maximum speed with an intensity that stood in defiance to their endless cache of hooks. They were so incredibly in it that the songs themselves would have been an afterthought if the songs themselves weren't absolute classics. "Can Man" and "Staring At Your Walls" (titled "Clock" on this tape) and several others are on this tape, along with "Couldn't (If I Tried)" which is just...well, it's a perfect song. This band was special. This band is special almost 30 years later; there simply haven't been many like them. 

WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN

EYE JAMMY

 

Those EINOK fests were truly something special. A gathering that I thought might take the place of a Chaos In Tejas instead served to usher in an entirely new....thing. The focus was never on the cool bands, the hyped bands or the 'big' bands - the focus was on friends and on (mostly regional) punk slammers. Freak City exploded with weirdos and I felt old, I felt out of touch, I felt fukkn alive watching these kids go absolutely mental. Small town mutants converging on a Bible Belt enclave and joining forces with other small town mutants and taking it the fuck over...there's nothing like it. This is where I first ran into the Hattiesburg punks, rolling 20 deep and serving as a self contained fun machine any time one of their bands played - and when EYE JAMMY played? Yeah, shit was real cool. EYE JAMMY was punk - like DEAD MILKMEN and BIG BOYS filtered through 2010s Midwest freak shit (think CONEHEADS, NECRO HIPPIES, LIQUIDS, et al), and shit was magical. Maybe you had to be there? I'm glad that I was.

LIVE AT THE BBQ

THE GRUMPIES

 

I'm pretty sure the first time I saw THE GRUMPIES was in 1996 when we dropped a drive shaft on tour and got towed to a house show in Columbus, Mississippi (possibly on Christmas eve?) and the show was wasted and absolutely wild. I think we played with them in New Orleans on the same tour (because there are pictures). I definitely saw them in St. Louis in 1998 when they rolled up to a SUBHUMANS show unannounced and I schemed them on the bill. I must have seen them in San Francisco at some point and they must have been touring in a car, because I remember helping them struggle force their roof rack up the stairs of our place on 24th Street. But no matter how many times I did or didn't see them play..I loved THE GRUMPIES...and I still do. Their brand of amped up high speed four track pop punk is truly and completely their own - sometimes they play so fast that it seems like they are racing (each other) and the dual vocals (one high pitched, the other higher pitched) absolutely should not work (they definitely do). The way Jayson's guitars are layered defies all recording logic, and he forces the songs forward with constant leads. Amy's vocals on "Punk Rock Boy" and "No One Knows Why" (the two awkward ballads) are so sweet and damaged, and it's all just so fast. You can't call THE GRUMPIES pop punk because there's no pop punk that sounds like this, which is unfortunate because this is what pop punk should feel like. Earnest, pissed, messy, catchy, simple....real. I fucking loved this band. 

THE GRUMPIES

PLEATHER

 

Heard a rumor that y'all wanted some more of that good good from Mississippi. 

True? 

You're welcome. 

PLEATHER

JUDY AND THE JERKS

 

I wonder what happened to the scene in Hattiesburg, Mississippi. I got my first peek into their world at the fest in Oklahoma City some time in the twenty-teens, where the Mississippi punks rolled up about 30 deep - they all went off of each other's bands and their energy was enviable. BIG BLEACH, EYE JAMMY, JUDY AND THE JERKS, PLEATHER...these were bands that felt like they were born out of a collective need for community that grew organically into a camaraderie that transcended the bands themselves or even individual relationships - they just seemed tight as shit and it was awesome. The bands though, they were also tight as shit, and it was if they were trying to escape their own skin every time I saw one of them play. I'm talking specifically about JUDY AND THE JERKS here, but the same observation applies to the other bands mentioned (hell, it applies to their friends watching those bands too, it was like community catharsis). For a few years, I would see bands passing through the Bay Area on tour and ask them how things were going; if they had been to Hattiesburg then it was probably the only show they even mentioned because these kids were that fukkn good. It was like Minot (or even Starkville, MS for a hot minute) in the '90s, just this thing that exploded in a small out of the way town where 'cool' things weren't supposed to happen. I tried Minot in the '90s and it was a bust (so it goes with the small flash-in-the-pan scenes), and I really wish I had been able to conquer logistics and adulthood to be surrounded by these Mississippi freaks in their time and in their element. Not trying to sound like some social anthropologist - I mean that I wanted to get sweaty as fuck and watch the bands and wild out and shoot the shit until 4am and sleep uncomfortably on a floor wake up groggy and hungover and eat breakfast and then drive somewhere else with new friends and a great night in the rearview mirror. Friends that you might not see again because that's how punk works, but friends that you shared a night with nonetheless - an important night, just a couple of hours from where my papaw grew up near Lorman, MS. But that never happened, and honestly probably won't, but I hope these kids are still raging. I know Earth Girl is still cranking out tapes, and I know JUDY AND THE JERKS were playing shows just before the 'Rona cast its shadow in 2020, but Hattiesburg? I kinda want it to feel like I painted it in my mind, but really I want it to be whatever they want...so I can soak it up. 

ALIVE AT THE SKATEPARK

BO DIDDLEY

 

For all of the distorted bombast that dominates the world of outsider punk consumption, it's hard to image anything this side of Kawakami whipping young adults into a blind sweaty fervor as Bo Diddley in 1959. Recorded live in front of a bunch of Cornell University students who probably thought they were just going to a regular frat party...and found themselves placed under his spell. Bookended by the raucous "Hey Bo Diddley" and "Bo Says Night," Cornell Spring Weekend is a series of slow swinging standards and southern stomps - the fast and loose attack turns back the clock on the roots of punk and the repetition nods to Krautrock monotony long before there was even an inkling of such a thing. I might be reaching here but....I don't think so. The folks at Loathed Sound (I miss you) slapped an audio collage of Diddley clips and snips on the flip side, and includes a studio version "Hey Go Go" in its entirety. Not hard to see why the suburban grown ups were scared shitless of this motherfucker. 

CORNELL SPRING WEEKEND 1959

DOG CITY, USA

If you pay attention, then you've probably heard that Hattiesburg, Mississippi has been the coolest uncool spot in North America for the last few years. Reports of shows there are almost universally positive, and the vibe from the punks I've met from there is positive to say the least. Also....the bands kill, and that helps. There's something weird and awesome about one conversation with one person moving from CAPITALIST CASUALTIES shows in the '90s to the political climate in Jefferson County, where my mother grew up and the road in front of her house was informally named for her father and her high school was still segregate until after she graduated. But I'm not here to talk about the history of Mississippi, I'm here to talk about EYE JAMMY and DUMSPELL and DEEDEE CATPISS & THE FUZZCOFFINS. Because Hattiesburg punk rules, ok? They rolled deep and they support the hell out of each other and they make you feel like you wish that you lived in a scene that was as tight as theirs...which makes you wonder why you don't work harder to make your own scene like theird. JUDY & THE JERKS, SOFT SPOT, PLEATHER and DISCO LEMONADE round out the mix, and one listen will have this college hamlet on the "must hit" list for your next tour. 

DOG CITY, USA: A Compilation From Hattiesburg, Mississippi

DUMSPELL

I've seen 'em a few times, and the formula is really straightforward - good punk songs with a vaguely bratty and compellingly disinterested front woman. The slower jams are reminiscent of early '90s college/indie ("Island" is the example presented here, perfect Simple Machines fodder), while the band's overall steez is a snappy, ass shaking brand of punk with sharp guitars. Like I said friends - it's pretty simple, and it totally works. 

DUMSPELL

YOU'RE WELCOME

In The United States of America, many (most, in fact) will celebrate a thing called "Thanksgiving." What it is that they (we, in this case) are "celebrating" is a subject of much debate, but the line The Man has fed us for generations is that this day commemorates the Native Americans and/or First Nations peoples showing a bunch of dumb ass Europeans how to cook and hunt and shit, saving said dumb ass Europeans from certain death. So, yeah....I mean, we all have regrets. Anyway, this day is traditionally commemorated by overeating and watching sports, most notably a sport called "football," which is somehow different from the most popular organized sport in the world, which is also called football. But it's good to have alternate plans, and today I suggest three North American punk rock acts, all contributors to the "Do It Yourself" subculture through varying eras and decades and scenes, all worthy of attention, and all stupid enough to release one song demonstration cassettes. Think about it, if an entire civilization can make an honest mistake in the interest of helping others, why should underground punk bands be held to a higher standard?

FUCKBOYZ - "Errol Flynn Was A Motherfucker"

Technically not a demo tape, this was likely the master for FUCKBOYZ' contribution to the Napoleon compilation EP, which featured A MINOR FOREST, DRIPPY DRAWERS, ALL YOU CAN EAT, NOT SO HAPPY, POSITIVE GREEN, 40% SALINE SOLUTION, and BABY CARROT. The Bay Area was a pretty sweet place for a while. 

SUNSET BEACH - untitled

I don't know shit about this tape, but who the fuck releases a one song tape that lasts 71 seconds? SUNSET BEACH does (or did), apparently. This screams late '90s/early '00s melodic dirt punk, file alongside STRAY BULLETS or a thousand other bands who manage/d to combine earnest hooks with genuine aggression. Someone want's to tell me more, then I'm all ears.

EYE JAMMY - "Nuklear Beach"

Cheating just a little bit here, but if these hillbillies want to give me a fuckkd up two song cassette with only one damn song on it, then I'm gonna call the fukkn thing a one song demo. Fair? Fair. EYE JAMMY was one of the coolest bands I saw at this year's Everything Is Not OK festival, and the crew that they rolled in with certainly didn't hurt their casual claims of baller status (note to touring bands: always roll with a dozen rockers who know all all of your songs and can sing all of the choruses and dance their asses off - locals will think you are bad ass, and you will therefore feel and play like bad asses, it's a glorious cycle). I guess there's another song meant to be on this tape, but with a track as siq as "Nuklear Beach" I kinda don't even fukkn care...and also they are from Mississippi. 

FUCKBOYZ // SUNSET BEACH // EYE JAMMY

Thanks.....you are welcome. 

BIG BLEACH

Fast and feisty....and super fun. DEAD MILKMEN vibes with modern DIY vigor, and the ability to make instantly recognizable covers sound completely original. Only thing better than blasting this demo on a spring morning was when I watched them rip through a set of their own creamers in Oklahoma last spring. Hattiesburg, Mississippi is (apparently?) where it's at right now....road trip?

UNDER THE BLEACHERZ

BAGHEAD // BIG BLEACH

You read the shit I said yesterday about FORMALDEHYDE JUNKIES? Well, replace a few of the date-specific cultural references and fast forward 12 years and that's me watching these Hattiesburg, Mississippi bands wreck the joint in Oklahoma City last spring. Fukkn crucial. 

IT'S THE BIG BAG SPLIT

JERRY CLOWER

As anyone who's spent time on the American South is well aware, there's a difference between the denizens of the deep Southeast and the hillbillies in the Smokey Mountains, the big city Texans and the generations old Virginia clans - "Southern Culture" has countless layers, and the people of Mississippi are certainly their own breed. I spent chunk of my early summers at my grandparents' outside of Lorman, Mississippi until I was in high school (technically, Mamaw's place was just off a rural route between the villages of Red Lick and Coon Box...seriously...but the address was Lorman), about 50 miles roughly south of Liberty, where the subject of today's post was born. JERRY CLOWER wasn't a comedian, per se, he was an incredible story teller and anyone who's spent time (or has family) from rural Mississippi will sure appreciate his gift of gab...just stories, but these stories put places that no one had ever heard of on the map in the early '70s. Sweet and endearing, pure and wholesome...and yes, funny, Jerry's first two releases are collections of tall tales and legends, the same kind my Uncle Sammy and Papaw traded back and forth with neighbors when I was a kid. For further reference, I don't think there would be a Jeff Foxworthy without a Jerry Clower...though I'm not sure that's the most rousing endorsement. More punk stuff tomorrow.

MOUTH OF MISSISSIPPI // FROM YAZOO CITY MISSISSIPPI TALKIN'

Due to an organic cassette defect (time does have its way with Terminal Escape's medium of choice), the last few tracks of each release are...well, altered. Time has degenerated these stories into blips and blurts of nonsensical redneck lingo, giving the impression that you are on drugs. 

WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN

FUCKFACE crossed paths with WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN twice on our 1995 US tour. First in Biloxi, Mississippi, where we played with five touring bands and a couple of local ska acts in a rented hall, and then in New Orleans on afternoon that followed the most exceptional (frightening) displays of alcohol consumption I have ever seen (participated in) and our drummer was still talking to his dead friends (out loud) while we were playing. The following year, we got towed to a show they arranged for us sometime near Christmas (I can't recall if it was in Starkville or Columbus, and I don't remember if WTS or Jayson's next band THE GRUMPIES played...I just know it was real close to Jesus's birthday, and kids got crazy - perhaps because they were crazy). WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN are from Starkville, Mississippi, and their songs will seep under your skin and melt your icy jaded veins...this tape and their other demo were on heavy rotation in the van for many tours to come, and we were happy to spread the word to friends back home. Their sound is dredged through '90s poppy punk, but their delivery is all adrenaline and alcohol, placing them somewhere between HICKEY and SUPERCHUNK on my "awesome melodic bands from the '90s" meter. These tracks became WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN's only two EP's, Punk Rock Hero and Couldn't (If I Tried) b/w Wheaties, both released in 1995 or so. "Couldn't (If I Tried)" is as close to a perfect song as I've ever heard, and the words still get stuck in my head on a regular basis. The other two songs on this tape, "Can Man" and "Staring At Your Walls," never made it to wax, but they are both brilliant in the same innocently mature manner as "Couldn't (If I Tried)," and shows a band years more advanced than their actual years. In a different world, WHITE TRASH SUPERMAN would have (should have) been playing to hundreds of college punk fans for the last half of the decade, but in our world, they recorded brilliant songs themselves on a 4-track, released the songs themselves on cassette and EP (using the imprint Did It Ourselves Records), and filled a handful of lives with memories. That's a pretty nice legacy.

PUNK ROCK HERO