Crime Family
Rock Cartel (Sesha Press)
by Dave Liljengren
Seattle’s Crime Family hasn’t made a career of violence. Generally, they prefer picking up a bucket of chicken at the local drive-through lane to spilling a bucket of blood in a precisely-timed drive-by shooting. Nevertheless, they fire off their take on 1998 punk rock with a quick-hitting precision any drive-by shooter would envy. CF’s latest, Rock Cartel, is an economy-sized bucket of garage, punk, grunge, and distortion. Maintaining hardcore sensibilities while integrating solid melodies, the occasional distorted retro-growl, and just for good measure, a jazzy chordal vamp in track four, this nuclear unit rocks out a complex, guitar-based, version of danger rock. “Dream,” a song with ethereal jazz infusion, eventually launches into frenetic power chords of disillusionment at how dreams never live up to reality. The song might as well be based on the years of bar scene dues-paying the various members have been put through. Guitarist Rod Moody and singer Chris Pugh did time in Swallow, an early band on legendary Seattle indie SubPop. The two still collect royalties from the inclusion of Swallow’s “Zoo” on SubPop 200, a 1988 label compilation which also featured songs from Nirvana, Mudhoney, Soundgarden, and others. Drummer Dana Sims (now a SubPop employee who signs the meager royalty checks earned by Moody and Pugh) kept time in Flood, Sport-O, and Liar’s Club, each band a foundation stone of Northwest club rock. Bassist Drew Church, apparently strong on family values, comes to Crime Family from the Bun Family Players. Fortunately for power rockheads everywhere, Crime Family continues to fight on with screamer gems like “Believer” and “Leave This City.” Like all great two minute punk songs, “Reno” is capable of scaring children and small animals even at low volumes. Protective clothing should be donned before undertaking track six, “See You,” as the bass line alone may cause sterility in unprepared, and unsupported, male listeners caught in the sonic onslaught. The CD closes with “End of the World,” a pop masterwork of stacked harmonies, big drums, and enough hooks to keep listeners pushing the repeat button on their CD players. Crime Family kicks out a loudness tempered by wisdom, an anger made real by experience, and a structured sound infused with entertaining variety.
(Sesha Press)
