Migraines – Juvenilia – Review

Migraines

Juvenilia (Onefoot)
by Scott Hefflon

I always thought it odd that Sloppy Seconds were a genre in and of themselves (same with Squirrel Nut Zippers and look what happened with swing. Perhaps I oughtta be careful what I wish for). Junk rock (punk snarl and paces, pick slides, solos and all the good stuff of barroom rock, and junk culture references strung together with humorous, goofy, pissily tongue-in-cheek lyrics) was Sloppy Seconds, and Sloppy Seconds was junk rock.

Along come (the) Migraines. Also from Indiana (is it something in the water?), the Migraines are best noted for being one of the few bands almost no one’s ever heard of, but everyone will confuse with the sneerful cream o’ the crop. That’s right kids, fire-breathing vocalist, Eddie Migraine sounds like Joey Vindictive and/or B.A. from Sloppy Seconds. And that’s a comparison not often made. Migraines also made a name for themselves by being the backing band (The Undead) and only interesting thing about ex-Misfit Bobby Steele’s continuing career. Add to the fire-breathing schtick the fact that live shows boast the appearance of a crazy, cross-dressing clown named Bitch Ass the Clown.

Juvenilia is kind enough to litter movie snippets throughout the songs (not just as intros, neither; “Rittalan Bio” distinctly has Dee Snider roar, “You’re Gonna Burn in Hell!”), and that’s always fun. Musically, hell, if yer into junk rock, yer gonna like this. This is the kinda unpretentious, nothing-is-sacred punk rock that’s been lost amidst the glut of PC-pussified-clean-cut-boy-next-door dweebs who write love songs and have the audacity to call it punk. Sure, the Migraines ain’t much to look at (kinda like the overweight, joke-for-everything party guy everyone loves who never gets laid), but since when does raw, funny, punk subscribe to the poster-pretty aesthetic? Not the kinda guys you’d bring home to mother, or invite to church or anything, but they’re likely to have beer in the fridge and a good selection of porno, and, hell, they’re probably fun to get thrown out of parties with.
(PO Box 30666 Long Beach, CA 90853)