Looks like we’re overdue for some posts again. Sorry, guys, but I’m busy—not that I owe you clowns anything. No, I don’t owe you a damn thing and, in fact, this particular record is a donation of sorts, recently given to me by an old friend. I first heard this thing about 7 or 8 years ago and was so impressed with it, that I felt compelled to fetch it out of the pile and beg for it. And, of course, it’s for a worthy cause, right? So why would I go through so much trouble? Because it’s a great record that needs to be shared with the world? Don’t be silly! And check your URL while you’re at it and recognize that, yes, you are here and, no, you should know better than that by now. In fact I would dare to say that this is one of the most heinous, crap fake Punk records I have ever heard in my life and, like the cover says, it is of “no redeeming social value”. Unfortunately, it is of no musical value, either. The back cover also makes the claim that this is a “concept album” and I have to agree that, if the concept is making an LP of unlistenable Disco-influenced crapola, it succeeds with flying colors! And that’s enough of that, but let me finish my flame by adding that, if you managed to tolerate some of the other bad Punk records I’ve churned up, this baby just might be the one to put you on the ropes!
So, with the necessary (and deserved) bashing out of the way, let me try to halfway defend this thing a little bit. First off, they were from Aspen, Colorado. Never been there, but I can only imagine that being a working stiff in a town like that would have to royally suck, so I can offer some degree of sympathy and possibly a little leeway, but this record came out in 1980. Secondly, I have to admit the lyrics are pretty good, actually above average and pretty funny but, man, is this thing ever a tough listen! But to each his own, right? Obviously, some dude who smoked a lot of cigarettes liked the thing, because the B-Side is thrashed and it smells like an ashtray. I should also mention that, if it were between listening to this thing or The Spooks, I’d pick this baby, hands down!
Another recent donation, taken from another aging reprobate’s tape collection. So what is to be said of this thing? Not much. It’s The Mentors, live in studio, doing an interview of sorts at WCSB in Cleveland, OH, possibly on their first US tour. You know the drill, but if you haven’t heard The Master’s voice in something you haven’t already heard a million times before, this will bring a ray of sunshine into your otherwise worthless, dreary life.
Yes, more smut. Is this stuff driving away readers? Well, good riddance to you, but I fear this piece of junk might just drive off whoever is left! Yeah, this disc is queer as fuck, but not at all what I thought it would be when I picked it up, figuring it for a comedy routine along the lines of some of the other smut records I’ve posted. Not the case. Actually, I’ll admit that I find this record interesting, not for its content (that is actually pretty weak), but for what the entire package as a whole was originally meant for. You see, this is NOT a “party record”. It was actually meant as an audio stimulant for some lonely Sodomite to jerk his gherkin to in the privacy of his own home. The cover of this record (not pictured) is nothing but a blank, white piece of cardboard with no writing on it. Inside one finds some old black and white photos of a couple naked fags doing some soft-core porn shots. So basically, this thing gave you the entire package: something to look at and something to listen to.
Judging by the hairstyles of the two guys, I’m guessing this came out in the late 1960’s, during that ambiguous period where hardcore porn was still basically illegal, but mildly tolerated if it was sold under the counter, thus making this an underground recording. And it sounds it. Obviously, it’s just a couple fags coming up with smutty schlock in an apartment, using a reel-to-reel tape recorder. The A-Side may or may not be a live sex act, with unnecessary dialogue to keep the listener interested but, even if it was a guy and a chick, it wouldn’t be that interesting. The mic wasn’t grounded properly or something, either, because there is an annoying buzz that I can’t get rid of throughout most of it. The B-Side is the “S & M Party” and it is considerably more entertaining with whippings, fisting, buggery and general butt piracy that any two jerks could have made up off the top of their heads whether they were gay or not, although at any given moment I’m expecting to hear the door kicked down and Tesco Vee shout “Eat on this knuckle sandwich—we’re not tooling for anus!”