\"Fuck that wimpy shit. Get some balls, and play some rock \'n\' roll.\"
- Big Jay Bastard, on the current, more emo-ish state of punk rock.
Yeah. If you’re in a band, and like wearing sweaters and hugging yourself, Twenty Bucks And Two Black Eyes is your worst nightmare. In fact, if you go to record stores on May 11th, you’ll probably see this U.S. Roughnecks record beating the piss out of your record. Literally.

Like a crack whore, I dove across the conference (coffee) table when Wayne began to describe what the band Spymob sounded like. Normally, Wayne says, \"I’ve got music to hand out.\" He will then hold up the CD, and say, \"This is ______, and they sound like ______.\" Typically, he will say something like \"retarded monkey poop\", or will compare them to other bands listed in the press kit as influences/sound-alikes. As he read down the list of comparisons, he mentioned Jellyfish. This is when the lunge occurred.

The Hong Kong\'s Rock The Faces clocks in at a whopping seven songs, but it\'s enough.
Like the Go-Gos meets Blondie, it’s a post-punk, pseudo-New Wave pop masterpiece. The songs will have you bopping along in your car, cutting off little old ladies, and flipping off buses full of kids.
This is not a cheap knockoff of the past; it’s for real! It feels authentic, like it was truly recorded in the Eighties. It makes you sing along, and, at a mere seven songs, keeps you wanting more.
Hit repeat, and keep on driving.

Freezepop\'s Fancy Ultra-Fresh is the kind of CD that grows on you, whether you want it to or not. Mixing Devo, Aqua, and every other synth-pop band together, Freezepop is kitschy Eighties nostalgia that will get stuck in your brain and make you do the robot for the duration of the disc. It’s like if the band from the end of Revenge of the Nerds cut an album. And it’s so damned embarrassing, that I actually dig it.

Since its inception during the latter part of the 22nd Century, the highly publicized process known as Cosmetic Molecular Restructuring, or CMR, has been both criticized and praised for allowing the elite of our modern society to design a custom-made body, and load their reformatted conscious minds into brand-new shells. However, for those who can afford the $500 billion dollar price tag, the ability to play God is a small price to pay.

Ever eat a really, really sweet candy bar? Sure. We all have. It’s delicious for the first couple bites. Heavenly, even. Then, perhaps suddenly, perhaps gradually, it starts to make you a little nauseous. Everything that’s good about it-- the sweetness, the chewy nougat, the caramel-- it’s all \"too\". What started off as a tasty treat has now given you a toothache, gut rot, and faucet ass.

Sheeeit, mothafucka! You got some stank on yo downlow lookin\' for some comic info? You needs ta look no further than the crazy biznitches at tastes like chicken! (Shit, John Cena, I challenge you to a rap-off!)
For all of you not paying attention to Wayne\'s rants for the past few months, I\'m gonna drop some knowledge on some of the sweet-ass comic projects upcoming and available from your friendly neighborhood tastes like chicken staff!

You know how fun it is when you are driving somewhere alone, and you\'ve got something like David Bowie blasting on the stereo? You know how awesome it feels to belt out the songs right along with the CD? How the recording drowns out your voice, so you think you may actually sound pretty good? You know how sometimes you misjudge the timing of a song, and suddenly it\'s you yelling at the top of your lungs, but Bowie hasn\'t started the chorus yet? You know how you then realize just how grating your voice sounds, and how you\'re actually embarrassed by yourself?

When I first started listening to The Matches\' debut album, E. Von Dahl Killed The Locals, I admit I thought they would sound like A Simple Plan, Good Charlotte, or a slew of other pop-punk carbon copies. But then I thought, \"I am hungry.\" And then I thought, \"I should get a burrito.\" After my failed search to find the perfect burrito, I gave The Matches a second chance.

THE BAND: Andy Hart - vocals; Joel Johnson - guitar; Charlie Johnson - guitar; Tara Anderson - bass; Karl Hensel - drums.