Dollar Binge 4
Working title: Dollar Binge 3 Part 2.
By Keith Bergman

Astute readers (provided I had any) would probably say after four of these columns, “Hey! That guy isn’t going down to Amoeba every two weeks to buy five new dollar discs! He sounds way too familiar with some of these shitty records he’s reviewing!” And, dear made-up fan in my daydream, you’d be right. What makes me qualified to write about the cast-off orphans of the music biz is that I’ve been taking them all in for about a dozen years now. Give me your poor, your tired, your cut-out and deleted, your un-recouped and written off, and let them rest upon the teeming shores of my cat-hair-strewn CD racks. Just think of me as Lady Liberty, only with a little less to offer in the copper tit department, and a lot more undiscovered music under my torch.

You may be wondering: “What kind of ghetto Smithsonian does this guy’s unpopular-CD-laden apartment look like, anyhow?” I imagine it’s pretty overwhelming to the first-time visitor – if anyone ever comes to visit a second time, I’ll ask them and let you know. Until then, let’s get on with the rock!


Scheer - Infliction
4AD, 1996

Promising girl-fronted alternative band from Northern Ireland, with a quirky, distinctive singer and huge, grungy guitar hooks – no, not the Cranberries, dammit! The first half of Infliction contains some flat-out awesome songs, including “Howling Boy” and the vitriolic “Wish You Were Dead,” culminating in the soaring “Demon” before losing the plot a bit in the second half. The great songs here are really, really great, though – anyone who can listen to Audrey Gallagher’s plaintive, Belly-esque croon on “Demon” without getting chills needs to go buy one of those heated iguana rocks before they perish from sheer cold-blooded sluggishness. Label battles kept Scheer’s sophomore album on ice for four long years and eventually broke the band up, leaving Infliction as the only widely-available document of its greatness. A killer band with loads of potential, sadly wasted.
Actual worth: Worth buying new… if anyone still did such a thing.


Holy Hand Grenade - Smoked
Countdown, 1997

Talk about a dumb connection, I only picked this up because it was mixed by Faith No More producer Matt Wallace. What I got was an odd little record of twee, Beach Boys-esque harmonies married to alt-pop tunes – catchy as all hell, but it couldn’t be any more fey if it showed up at your doorstep in a Little Lord Fauntleroy outfit (the first song is called “International Cheese,” fer Chrissakes). Impeccable harmonies and spun-sugar pop confections that beat Spacehog, Hoodoo Gurus, The Dickies and Squeeze at their own games, dripping bratty energy and more funshine than a glee club full of cheerleaders on nitrous. This is the kind of record I put on when I’m done with a day’s worth of stuff I have to listen to – Holy Hand Grenade is audio Pixi Stix, all Red No. 5 and refined sugar, and that’s exactly the way I like ‘em, thank you very much.
Actual worth: A plastic pumpkin head full of Halloween candy, mini Snickers bars and all.


Spot - Spot
Ardent, 1994

I once encountered a vendor on Venice Beach who had an entire BOX of this CD for sale, for fifty cents each – and I still couldn’t get my friends to chance it, thanks to the generic name and album cover. Originally released on the Ardent label, the band was signed by Jody Stephens of Big Star – no slouch when it comes to infectious pop/rock. These guys walked a fine line – their songs are amazing, but you could hear the potential for some major label to come along and punt them squarely into Goo Goo Dolls territory. Thankfully, there’s enough bar-band grit and sardonic wit here to leaven the sweetness of the pop hooks and keep the whole record rockin’. Highlights include the jaded “L’America” and the damned pretty “Straight Through the Sun’s Head.” Allegedly reissued by Interscope a year or so after the Ardent pressing, not that it did ‘em any good.
Actual worth: Easily worth a fiver, not that you’ll ever have trouble finding one for under a buck.


Red Square Black - Square
Zoo, 1994

Man, I’d like to know the story behind this one. Guitarist John Lowery (now known as John5 of Marilyn Manson’s live band) and the late drummer Randy Castillo (Ozzy, Motley Crue) turned up in this enigmatic band, fronted by one Mark Binder (you may know him from… uh… never mind). The result, against all possible odds, is a near-perfect five-song EP of barely-controlled industrial-metal rage, with barbed-wire hooks, shredded vocals, and seething, mechanized riffs and beats. Every song here flat-out rules, and the whole thing is like a twenty-minute jolt of caffeine, the sort of CD you can’t listen to in the car without getting a speeding ticket. This is the Holy Grail of industrial/pop/metal, an EP that pisses on the discographies of Gravity Kills and Misery Loves Co. without even trying. And then… nothing. Zilch. Jack shit. What happened?
Actual worth: Gonna be a collectible someday, if the world decides to give a shit about Marilyn Manson ever again.

The Shining Path - The Shining Path
Which?, 1998

Demented rap-rock concept album featuring a member or two of reviled New York dorks Dog Eat Dog – but The Shining Path didn’t suck! A strange tale of a man’s memories of his father’s Vietnam scars, drug abuse, flashbacks, and suicide, complete with strange inner demons singing and chanting, live instruments (including bass from Bad Brains’ Daryl Jenifer), sly funk, hip-hop, rock, live instrumentation, and an atmosphere that gradually gets as hot and claustrophobic as a flooded subway tunnel – about as far from Dog Eat Dog’s frat-party hoopla as it gets! I think this was one of those over-ambitious projects that stiffed just because no one really knew what the hell to do with it – it’s a weird trip, well worth taking, that’s actually pretty disturbing when listened to from beginning to end.
Actual worth: Worth skipping a Nathan’s hot dog to pick up.

Keith Bergman recently scoured the Internet for nude images of Type O Negative's Peter Steele.