Spazz Music: July 2004 Archives
Sincerest apologies to our latest regular contributor, Miss Marissa Meltzer, for the tardiness of this post. Due to technical difficulties, and my own gross negligence, our sister in arms makes her regular debut in a less than totally awesome form, an I apologize for that. So, without further ado:
I like to tell people that the most punk rock thing I've ever done happened at age sixteen, when I skipped my junior prom to go to a show at Gilman Street. This story isn't a lie--it was the night of my junior prom and I did instead go see bands play--but it wasn't as if I was leaving some tuxedoed date at my doorstep, corsage in hand. But date or no date, what kind of band lures a hot-blooded American girl away from her prom? Antioch Arrow, perhaps the greatest band of all time.
Antioch Arrow were five cute boys (Aaron Montaigne, Mac Mann, Ron Anarchy, Jeff Winterberg, Andy Ward) from San Diego, which was a pretty prolific place for music in the mid-90s. Their albums were released by Gravity Records, who also put out records by Angel Hair, Clikatat Ikatowi, and Heroin. Gravity was the sort of record label that encouraged slavish devotion in some ("some" meaning "me") and utter indifference to many. The band's music has been described as an "overwhelming art explosion of noisy poems sprayed in your face in one minute bursts" and "like someone emptying cans of Mace in your eyes." Both of these descriptions are apt enough, but I will add this: Antioch Arrow sounded the way it felt to be a teenager.
My problem here is that I really want you to love Antioch Arrow the way I do. I want you to get beyond the dyed black hair and white belts (to their credit, though, that was a pretty hot look in 1994). It's difficult to listen to Antioch Arrow for the first time as a wizened resident of the 21st century. So, let's pretend we are endlessly bored teenage girls from suburban California. One day were sorting through the mail and a friend from LA has made us a mix tape and on it is the song "Conspiring the Go-Go". It's awesome. Were in.
"Conspiring the Go-Go" is so good I cannot even recall anything else on the mix tape. The song, with the repeated screaming of "I'm sorry but I can't sit still" (at least, I think that's what they're saying) sounds like the music version of ADHD and sort of feels like being hit in the stomach repeatedly with a dodgeball, but in a good way. Their first two albums, The Lady is a Cat and In Love with Jetts, are short but unstoppable, each song clocking in at around 50 seconds and featuring more erratic drumming and more spastic singing. "Angels Lawn" is a memorable song for many reasons, only one of which being the word "virginity" dragged out to seven syllables. Whats not to like?
And then their third (and last) album, Gems of Masochism, dropped. I bought it, but immediately knew something was amiss. The cover featured the band members looking vaguely goth. The song titles ("Gotta Love the Lights", "Introducing Elizabeth") seemed all wrong. And listening to it confirmed all my suspicions: the music was dark, slow, piano-driven, and claustrophobic. There were songs about mascara. I may have cried.
It's ironic because their first two albums do sound a bit dated and--dare I say--emo, though my devotion doesn't waver. And Gems of Masochism, so reviled by me and my friends, was actually re-released to universally complimentary reviews earlier this year. For me, they'll always be the band that made me ditch my prom and then broke my heart a year later. Sounds like the Greatest Band of All Time. MARISSA MELTZER.
