{image1}Pete Townshend, the grandfather of the angry angst-ridden punk, once said that rock and roll was a way to face your problems squarely and dance them away. Townshend and The Who were always known for their noisy, controlled chaos that created a sound that was both cathartic and musical.
But underneath the cacophony, beneath the power chords and flailing drums, you always knew the kids were all right.
To the Suicide Machines, the problem is you. You and the horrible, disgusting, militaristic society you live in. And how do you dance that away?
That seems to be the problem with the Suicide Machines' new album, "War Profiteering is Killing Us All" (Side One Dummy). They just throw invective in your face with angry screams and thrashing guitars that in the end are more tiresome than cathartic; more fury than sound. Not so much rock and roll as rock and rage.
The Dead Kennedys, who decades ago combined hard-core punk with political and social satire, knew that you could sing about stealing people's mail as long as there was the faintest hint of a tune and maybe even humor. Even contemporaries like The Vandals have a sense of tongue-in-cheek. But the Suicide Machines have discarded even those notions and buried their material under a barrage of banshee howling, chord slashing and furious drum crashing -- and it's not as good as that sounds.
The title cut, whatever anti-war truth may lie within it, has all the charm of a street-corner preacher shouting as passers-by. The entertainment value is brief, and you quickly want to move on. "Capsule/AKA Requiem for the Stupid Human Race," is similarly packaged screed with lines like "so taste your fate/so eat your sh*t/we've come to this/oh what the f*ck have we done?"
The album makes it sound as if the whole band is off its meds.
Only on "Hands Tied," a two-minute speed-ska number, do the Machines finally let up with the anger and display a bit of playfulness. But by then, most rational people would have been pummeled into submission and hit the stop button.
The good news about "War Profiteering" is that the entire ordeal is over in just over thirty minutes -- including the minute gap between "I Went on Tour for 10 Years and All I Got Was This Lousy T-shirt" and the unlabeled, unnamed 14th cut -- meaning you can quickly return to your miserable, materialistic life in no time at all. But then your life would probably be better if you avoided this one altogether.
