The No WTO Combo
Live from the Battle in Seattle (Alternative Tentacles)
by Jon Sarre
Jello’s ten-min jack-off spiel grates on ya real real quick like and it’s truly a wonder the dipshit former Dead Kennedy don’t wrench his scrawny shoulder outta the socket pattin’ hisself on the back fer bringin’ his ugly mug into the tear gas zone and “empowerin'” assorted peace creeps (jeez, havin’ been there meself, uh, sad to say once the cops got ’emselves back on the (riot)sticks, silly thing really turned into a sorta “prayer vigil” farce wit’ jerkos like Biafra beggin’ to be arrested lest their names not get in the pap’s, Viet Nam, I suspect it wasn’t)… now that he’s ditched most every pretense o’ bein’ a punk rock sanger in fave of life as a post-y(h)ippie guidance counselor like Ralph Nader ‘cept wit’ nuthin’ to sell, complete with mindless “No WTO” chantisms (so mebbe like George Harrison or Don Henley, too) that even the most addled tree-hugger or mono-syll grad student labor union shill can pronounce, ya’d think that Jell’d just run again for mayor o’ Frisco, or better yet, cross the bay to Oakland and go mano a mano vs his ole bud Jerry Brown (“Oaktown Über Alles” anyone?), or best of all, move his pro-Marxist ass back to Colorado and shut his big bouche once and for all. Nah, no fuckin’ such luck, instead, with a shameless bent that’d even make Al Sharpton feel like scum, well, Biafra’s here for you, with cameras, uh, I mean, caring.
The full-length’ll be in stores soon enough, so breath easy everyone and I’m sure it’ll have a) more Biafra-speak b) Jello babbling c) the frontman of a Bay Area punk rock band turned college-circuit lecturer drinking water and, amazingly enough, still talking (hint: it’s not Will Shatter, he’s dead). Besides Mr. Jello Biafra, it’ll also feature Krist Novoselic (whose post-Nirvana career has consisted of bein’ a talkin’ head on a variety of issues that makes one wonder why presidential candidates don’t just focus on sellin’ lotsa records, sure beats pot-luck fundrasiers and talkin’ to creepy old people and obviously Billboard’s Hot 100 gives ya license to tell me how I should fuckin’ vote or at least care about important things like our Bosnian policy, ya wonder where he even finds the time to play the bass), Soundgarden’s Kim Thayil (who can only really be pitied at this point, next step is bein’ thrown outta a crackhouse for bein’ an “undesirable” a la The Temptations’ David Ruffin) and some drummer not deemed “name” enough to slap on the front cover (Gina Mainwal o’ Sweet 75, for the record, this record). With regards to the music herein, with the exception of the Dead Kennedys chestnut/MC5 “Sister Anne” ripoff “Let’s Lynch the Landlord,” the stuff is typ of Biafra’s sociological bullshit, uh, singin’ output, uh, garbage: semi-metallic quasi melodic heave cum student union cranky tirade. Almost enough, in fact, ta make ya a rabid WTO fan, or at least, wanna see Biafra pepper-sprayed or, even better, vandalized by black-clad “anarchist agent-provocateurs.”
(PO Box 419092 San Francisco, CA 94141)
