Hard Fixed, the DTs

Nepotism is the practice of giving jobs, promotions, or fawning press coverage to family members or other drinking buddies because they ask nicely and because you already like them pretty well. (It doesn’t hurt when you actually love their work, but it’s still nepotism…)

If it aint fucked up, don’t fix it.

Hard Fixed, the smouldering debut by Bellingham, Washington’s DTs is neither fixed nor fucked, rather a collection of saucy rhythm and soul with enough jolt to flatten the proudest. Sure, it’s real purdy at a glance, but watch out for that big goddamn hammer. I said WATCHOUT!!

An ardent departure for Sir Estrus Dave Crider’s former work with the Mono Men and Watts, this band draws its muse from the blue moods of ‘60s soul. Hard Fixed is a dynamic romp through themes of love, loss and revenge—stuff no one sings about these days.

The DTs label themselves Hard Soul. To dare a record like this you need a shit hot chick singer like Diana Blanchard. Girl’s got Voice and the guts to use it— inviting the listener in with a sultry taste, then turning with wanton wail that harkens Tina or Janis. Her vocals are powerful and sure at either extreme, and her lyrics are the stuff of life lived. “I’m down on the ground, but I’ve been here before” she snarls on “On the Ground,” summing up the lyrical attitude of the album—that which does not shatter my heart only makes me stronger.

Drummer Phil Carter takes it to the roof, and organist Patti Bell lays down an opaque bass that sets the DTs apart from all the other hard soul bands out there right now jockeying for position. As if! The DTs are on a train all their own with a sound part borrowed, part new and all blue. No one’s pushing this kind of junk right now.

The album kicks off with “Loaded Gun,” featuring Dave on some great slide guitar, and closes with a murderous version of Tina Turner’s “Chopper,” one of two covers on the record. Hilights in between include every one of the other 8 tracks. “Proud Man” drives hard in low gear while “Hurt is Over” climbs hypnotically from cool to fucking insane-- baby baby baby babaay! “The Slide” and the desperate “Star 69” are sparser and feature Diana at her slyest. 

Calmly etched in a weekend at legendary Egg Studios in Seattle with his Honor Tim Kerr at the wheel, Hard Fixed is a collection of feel ‘n’ fury for any era. Together a year as a three by the time Patti joined last April, the band hit the road ‘neath the summer skies to testify on jaunts with the Immortal Lee County Killers, the Midnight Evils and the Makers. Mercy missions overseas are planned in support of the record later this year.

Damn handsome packaging, too. Meticulously crafted by northwest illustrator extraordinaire Jim Blanchard (relation), the metallic snakeskin themotta represents perfectly the pretty yet gritty and sincere inner sinner of the DTs. The foldout mini-comic tells a narrative all its own, another dimension to the Hard Fixed device.

Hell, on second thought, this record is both fixed and fucked. In the hardest way. Baby…

— Callous French

Mono Men, Green Frog

The Mono Men aren’t a band anymore, but with a good enough excuse every seven years or so, they can be persuaded to throw down a shit-hot hour set of garage rock antha. Estrus Records kitten Carl Ratliff’s recent 40th birthday presented just such an opportunity. The Green Frog was selected as a venue, and tickets for the rare event sold out on-line in 19 minutes.

 Opening the show was Portland’s Fireballs of Freedom, another band who frequently marinated the stage of the storied 3B Tavern back in the Estrus heydays of the 1990s. Next was poet Chet Weise who during that era fronted the Quadrajets and the Immortal Lee County Killers. The air in the room was moist with anticipation & perspiration when the Monos finally mounted the stage just after 11pm.

 Without nostalgic introduction the band bucked into the title track from their 1990 debut Stop Draggin’ Me Down and the room came fucking undone. Bellingham didn’t always know what it had in its own frontyard back in the day, but the appreciation level was sky high as the Mono Men worked their way through the first phase of the show, featuring songs from the first album as well as the first single Burning Bush. Unlike last time there was a good enough excuse to put the band back together, the lineup included original second guitarist Marx Wright, who also co-founded Estrus with Dave Crider back in the late 80s. Former 3B owner Aaron Roeder on drums and Ledge Morrisette on bass, yep.

 Chronologically appropriately, Marx handed his guitar & vocal duties off to John Mortensen as the band shifted into songs from the Wrecker period. Beer was flying by this point, the Monos steering through ‘Watch Outside’ and ‘Testify’ before gearing down low for the fan favorite Kim Salmon-penned ‘Swampland.’

 You wouldn’t know these guys hardly ever even saw each other, let alone rehearsed. While it is true that most of this catalog has only three chords, the material seemed fresh yet familiar, spirited and relevant. And really fucking loud. The songs were tight, yet the atmosphere was relaxed-- except for all the sweating and screaming and fist-pumping. The scene was kind of a rock ‘n’ roll high school class reunion with a lot of hugging between old friends who don’t see each other enough. A bracket of songs from 1994’s Sin & Tonic signaled the end of the set proper.

 “This is the part of the set we like to call ‘you asked for it,” snarled Crider as the band launched into a punishing 2-song encore of ‘Slammer’ and ‘Wimp.’ And then it was over. At least for here; at least for now. It’s a bit of work to put this together for one 60-minute set. Expect to see the Mono Men in a Latin-speaking country near you later this year.

 Callous French

Machine Animal Mach II.5

With machine-like precision and animal magnetism, Machine Animal has entered Mach II. Actually, Mach II.5.

 Anthony ‘Beer Bunny’ Navarro, also of Bellingham deuce The Second Hand Suits has replaced Bill ‘Beard Bunny’ Anker on drums. Anthony makes lots of intense faces when he plays, and will use with his hands when necessary. Kind of like a drum machine animal.

 The band has also gone to a platoon system for fat strings. Original bassist Vincent Blackshadow will represent the band east of the Continental Divide. Chris Coyle, the easy-breathing leader of Sir Coyler and his Asthmatic Band (Seattle) will hold down the west coast basslines.

 Dave Crider and Zack Van Houton will continue shotgunning beers and finishing each others’ sentences. “This new lineup gives us more flexibility plus way more intense faces behind the drums,” said Dave before Zack added “Sharks are rad!”

 The whole thing started in 2016 when Dave & Zack got drunk and a turn-up contest broke out. It was like a rock and roll arms race—extreme guitardation. A rhythm section was added and made things even louder and more retarded.

 They liked the name Animal Machine, but something wasn’t quite right. They all wanted to be the singer, so they made a rule that no one wasn’t the singer. The songs were so fuckin’ dumb. Just dumber than dirt. Dumber than that horse you fucked. Bonehead rock. Inspired by some of the dumbest 70s hard rock & glam rock songs and bands, the dumb just kept getting dumber. Dumb and loud—like an animal.

 Shows. Shirts. Shit. Shinola. The skull-numbing down-dumbing Live in Wreck b/w Devil Woman single on California’s Valley King Records. The beards and bunny suits. The beers and balloon animals. A lifetime of decibels tamped into one year.

 The first year…

 Actually, Machine Animal works better than Animal Machine… 

Machine Animal is:

Zack Van Houten (Black Beast Revival, Machine Animal) Tele, vox

Dave Crider (Mono Men, Watts, DT’s, Machine Animal) SG, vox

Vincent Blackshadow (Sweet Invicta, Machine Animal) bass guitar, vox [Mid-west Div]

Anthony Navarro (The Second Hand Suits, Machine Animal) drums, vox

Chris Coyle (Sir Coyler and His Athsmatic Band, Machine Animal) SG bass guitar, vox [West Coast Div]

Bring a picture of Malcolm Young to Dave’s

Sandwiched in-between iphone reminders to Choke the Chicken was one to remember to bring a picture of Malcolm Young next time I visited Crider’s. I’m not sure how we ever remembered anything before we could just dictate reminders into our phones. I swear most days I wouldn’t even remember to pull down my pants before going poop if it wasn’t for my lucky iphone and its bulletproof memory.

I think the other reminders as input were actually to Check the Chicken because if I don’t set a reminder I usually end up overcooking it. But bringing a picture of Malcolm Young to Dave’s was as it was intended. Malcolm was still living at the time, but I don’t remember why else we were collecting paper pictures of him. I found one in an old Kerrang! and tore it out, folding it up in my shirt pocket. And out the door I went.

Dave accepted it graciously as though he had any idea why I was delivering him a picture of Malcolm Young. It had no-doubt made perfect and indeed urgent sense when the reminder was initially filed, sitting on Dave’s back porch with a bottle of brown liquor. But in the end, I think it was just great to have a picture of Malcolm Young to put on the fridge—and that is plenty.