You call it cheap entertainment

The glory you see above is just one of the many stunning beautifications hung upon the walls of my room, a room which you plebeians no doubt would attempt to visit but for the knowledge that I would instantly turn you away and laugh at your worthless efforts to look on the wondrousness.

A funny story about this poster is that I owned it before I actually owned my first physical Rocket From the Crypt album, and not for lack of trying. Well, it's not really a "funny" story, but bear with me, you morons. Tear yourself away from your Animal Collective long enough for me to lead you to some skull-cracking awesomeness.

 

It all began long ago, when my attentions were brought to the existence of a band known as Drive Like Jehu. I could tell the tale of exactly how this band was brought to my attention, but it's best left unexplained (if memory serves, it involved smuggling child pornography to a prominent Russian politician I'm 80% sure wasn't Vladimir Putin. Once again, best left unexplained). The next few times I found myself in Borders or some other such store I thought it would be a lark to scan the music section and try to find a DLJ album. I honestly did not expect to find one, and my hunch proved correct as there were none to be found. Eventually I made my way to an indie store, thinking it would have to be there, only to find it MIA yet again. I ended up searching on iTunes and finding their second (and last) album, Yank Crime, available. I was very pleased with its absolute fucking quality from top to bottom. While it was amazing, it was not what I'd call skull-cracking, and hey, I promised you skull-cracking. Its complex, intertwining twin guitar lines and post-punkish time signature crap made for quality music but the brutality was somewhat waylaid by the "music theory" detours. It did not take long for me to learn of DLJ guitarist John Reis's other group, the group this article is dedicated to, Rocket From the Crypt.

Unlike Drive Like Jehu, RFTC is hard, fast, riff-heavy punk-rock ass-killing with no frills save for a two-man horn section which only serves to exacerbate the amazing. They even had a contract with a major label! And they had a modest hit with "On a Rope!" I figured I would have no trouble finding this band in the indies, and might, with luck, stumble across an album even in an evil corporate store! So wrong I was. I visited no fewer than 4 indie record stores and found not a single RFTC album. The internet offered a few options, but the albums I lusted after most, including their major label debut Scream, Dracula, Scream, were scarce, and, if available at all, overpriced out the ass. This was a band with a sizable fanbase, so why the hell are all their albums out of print and harder to find than reasons your dad never told you he was gay?

Eventually my RFTC jones was sated by a very generous member of last.fm. While they were very good, I couldn't help but think that my imagination had made them out to be some beautiful dream no band of mere men could ever possibly fulfill. I learned a valuable lesson that day about the dangers of hyperbole, and realized that no artist can create something perfect.

Just kidding, you stupid morons. They are fucking amazing. You need to listen to them and it's an absolute tragedy of nigh-Holocaust-levels that it's so difficult to get a hold of any of their records. In fact, all of John Reis's bands (all of which, in fact, are awesome) seem to keep their records hidden away in some kind of Indiana Jones-style temple/dungeon.

If only they were more available to today's kids I can guarantee they would be held in as high esteem as whatever passes for punk rock these days. Times New Viking? Cute. But come on, now. I used to call the no-holds-barred riffery of RFTC "the thinking man's butt rock" but then I realized that all I was thinking about was how much I was being rocked by the amazing butt rock I was listening to.

One last thing: Some of a certain viewpoint may say that John Reis's singing voice, while impassioned, is largely tuneless and difficult to decipher, ultimately a far cry from the emotional range of DLJ and Hot Snakes vocalist Rick Froberg. However, those of a more accurate viewpoint would rebut: Fuck you guys, shut your god damned mouth. John Reis is amazing and you're lucky he doesn't fucking murder your family.

Here is their album Scream, Dracula, Scream, which I count as my favorite. I think it might have the best first 6 songs of any record ever.

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