Fifi

Sinkhole (Triple X)
by Jon Sarre

Punk, we are constantly reminded, was a revolt in music (well, style, some will contest) against a rock industry that had lost touch with the original “fuck you” spirit of its origins. You know the story, somebody had to come around and give it a major kick in the ass. And that, kids, was a long fucking time ago. Furthermore, it can be argued that when the leather and mohawk party was over, the A&R weasels and radio programming geeks were pretty much unscathed by the whole Ramones-to-Sex Pistols-to-Black Flag onslaught. All punk really accomplished was to establish its own version of the music biz, complete with pecking orders, codes, totems (i.e. drugs and groupies of choice) and standards. In other words, Bad Religion = Fleetwood Mac.

Oh well. Just for the record, Sinkhole, the debut album from the L.A. punk rock vets (ex. – I don’t have the space to list ’em all) who people Fifi is pretty fucking okay. It’s fasterlouder coolass “stop/start/solo/stop/ start/etc.” singer sounds like he had a cold olde tyme shit. I woulda loved this back when I thought Minor Threat was the greatest band on the planet. Fuck yeah, the guys in Fifi know their stuff really well. The thing is, it’s almost the end of punk’s third decade and I wish there were more cretins carvin’ more insane grooves in the music. Maybe that would scare these fellas into deviating from the same poses they’ve been stuck in since ’81. Run along now, you whippersnappers, go start a mosh pit, or whatever it is you do. I gotta take a nap.