When I first read of the impending release of Black Dots, I must admit I was skeptical. Sure, Tropical Dots and Wild Berry Dots were still flying off the shelves like so much baked paper, but considering the dismal failure of the Hot Dots cinnamon experiment, I felt sure that the gumdrop division of Tootsie Roll Industries would shy away from such a controversial non-fruit flavor as licorice. Luckily it turned out to be a CD of early Bad Brains demos.
If you've never heard the early Bad Brains music, please do let me try to describe it for you. Guitarist Gary "Dr. Know (Hilarious Parody of the Debut James Bond Movie Title Dr. No)" Miller has a metallic tone and penchant for soloing, but plays so many speedy bar chords that it sounds like punk rock anyway. Drummer Earl Hudson plays a hundred billion miles an hour, but always in an interesting pattern with clever, difficult breaks, as if the typical 'doop-chick' punk beat is too simple to hold his interest. Bassist Darryl Jennifer certainly seems to play the bass perfectly well, especially during the otherwise boring reggae tracks. And I've been trying to figure out how to describe Paul "Ras Hailu Gabriel Joseph I" D. "H.R." Hudson's voice for days now. See, at times he sounds like a man with an idiosyncratic, soulful voice singing a song, but other times he sounds like an insane dwarf midget baby screaming and bawling at you from a crib made of nails and battery acid. By the way, if you're interested in a crib made of nails and battery acid, be sure to click on the ad at the bottom of this page. Also, the Beach Boys sound a lot better if you listen to them in a timeshare beach house. And don't even get me STARTED about waving a country's flag while listening to Black Flag! I mean, holy fucking BALLS!
Although just a demo recording that sat unreleased for decades and a year, Black Dots is a phenomenal look at the band's early momentum, during the period when they were playing quickly but not nearly as manically speedily as their first two albums as released. The strangest thing is that the bass is mixed as loudly as the (what I believe to be) two guitar tracks -- to the point where at times you can't even tell which is which! And this from a band that was formed by the goshdarn lead guitarist!? Who buried him in the background? Was it an untrained producer? And who buried him in the backyard? Was it a serial killer?
Unlike many other demo collections you might find in today's active demolitions marketplace, Black Dots is a must-own because hidden among these early run-throughs of classic material like "How Low Can A Punk Get?" and "Pay To Cum" are many, many rare and unreleased compositions. This otherwise unreleased material includes:
-- Some awrsome headbang speedpunkers, including "You're A Migraine," the astonishingly speedy title track, and the jokey "Just Another Damn Song" (featuring the touching HR ad lib "Aw, I'm gettin' tired!")
-- A bit of evil Iron Maideny NWOBHM ("At The Atlantis," "Send You No Flowers")
-- One of the band's rare 'actually halfway decent' reggae compositions, "The Man Won't Annoy Ya"
-- The sweet 60s soul shot "Why'd You Have To Go?," which is both atypical of the band and a really, really shitty song
-- What certainly sounds like a Sex Pistols stylistic parody entitled "Redbone In The City." HR even rolls his R's! (and by "R's," I mean "marijuana")
The remaining 8 songs were later reworked at speedier tempos for later records, but look at that - 8 rare songs for all you Bad Brains fans out there. And most of them are GOOD! Plus the recording has a very clean, bright sound (surprising for a long-forgotten demo of this vintage) and it's neat how the guitar (bass?) seems to keep falling just slightly out of tune in a disorienting, wobbly and unique way that may just be an audio illusion created by all the turtle wax sloshing back and forth through my ear canal. Or should I say, my "EAR-Y (Erie) CANAL!" HA HA! NO WAIT! I'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE!!! Maybe I should say my "LAKE EAR-Y (Erie)!!!!" HA AHAHAHH!!!!!!! NO HANG ON!!! It would be even hilariouser if I were to say my "EAR (ear)!!!!"
Say! Did I ever tell you about the time I crapped in my bathing suit at Best Friend Park? I may have, but it's always worth repeating. I was a young lad enjoying a fine day at the pool with my family when a sudden burst of coagulating stinkybrown started queasing through my midsection. I hurried like a light-footed nature deer to the men's room, entered a Stall of Love, and was horrified to find my bathing suit string all wet and knotted. Unable to contain my waste and lacking the common sense to simply pull the bathing suit over to one side and move my bowel through its leg hole, I instead sat in shame and stench, diarrheaing all over my handy trunks. Adding additional insult to insult, I then noticed that this Stall of Love lacked even a shred of toilet tissue! After about 10 minutes, a gentle black man heard my weeping and smelled my aroma, and asked if he might be of assistance. I remember my response as clear as if it were yesterday's daydream: "I pooped in my pants and there's no toilet paper in here!" And this brave man went to the front desk and brought me the papery cleaning agent so demanded by my chastised undercheeks and groin. Little good it did though, what with diarrhea tending to stick around for the duration of any given event. Eventually my brother came in to check on me, and reported the good news back to my anger-prone father, who called me all sorts and sundry of ill names as he untied my Poop Shorts, washed them out in the commodity, and sent me back to the pool, where I undoubtedly stank for the rest of the afternoon.
Say! Did I ever tell you about the time I got in trouble at school for peeing in the sink? Talk about your misha
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