PenCapChew Zine

So what's new in the life and times of people slightly more famous than you?

Millencolin will release new album in May

This headline is a bit premature, but worth a mention because even though there are a few select Millencolin songs that I enjoy, I never knew that these homeboys were Swedish.  Something new every day.  Spread the good word.

Mindless Self Indulgence go on tour

Mindless Self Indulgence fans take note! If you can find the time to stop cutting anime and Pokemon clips down to play over MSI songs (I'm sure the YouTube community loves your art) you'll be able to go see these guys live this spring.  Ray and I got into an argument recently when he accused me of being a fan (he swears I said I liked them once).  But for those of you who are - have at it.

Smog Veil Records

If you haven't check out this rad label we pity you.  www.smogveil.com

Presidents of the United States of America

That says it all.  This says the rest:  "The Presidents of the United States of America have teamed up with director “Weird Al” Yankovic to shoot the performance-based video for 'Mixed Up S.O.B.,' creating a multi-layered, virtual world through psychedelic picture flipbooks."  Yup.

Posted by pencapchew at 09:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

After yet another broken promise made by lead singer Tom Rheault, Melissa and I ventured even farther distances to once again witness the main malfunction named No Trigger.

This time it wasn't some shitty venue in Fenton, Michigan, but the mean deep streets of Cleveland, Ohio. The closest location we could hit in order to make fun of Tom, his four elves and his little dog Bradley.

You see, Tom promised us a show in Detroit, but skipped out due to fear of yet another harsh PenCapChew attack. But like a predator stalking its prey, we hunted them down PCC sniper style and with no hesitation started hammering down on the girls of No Trigger.

We found them wandering aimlessly around Cleveland's Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame where we ambushed and nearly made newest members Erik "the red" Perkins and Billy "bean" both of Smartbomb, shit themselves over the fierce presence of PenCapChew.

We said our hello's, they said theirs then I quickly snatched Tom's skateboard from underneath his nose... "Hey, don't scratch the graphics!", he whimpered as I rode off into the streets of Cleveland along side the real rippers of No Trigger.

Huh? That's mean you say?

Well shit... Tom wasn't using it.

I don't think he ever used it... not a mark on the thing.

He's like one of those kids afraid of taking comic books out of the sleeve in fear of creasing the cover or one who keeps action figures in their original packaging for value preservation.

Well I wasn't having it... that bitch needed it's cherry popped and I was the man to do it!

Feeling bad, I offered him my longboard as reimbursement... something a little more his tempo.

Tom likes to spill his guts to PCC after two beers, cry over parking tickets, hug his dad, and whine about people smoking too close to him... so as you can see even a longboard is beyond his caliber.

After shredding the streets of Cleveland, the troops were rounded up, packed into the van hauling daddies R.C. Rheault trailer, and dropped off in the parking lot of the Beachland Tavern where we began the abuse on our livers.

Left Alone was already there... drinking.

We arrived second, tested the spot, started drinking.

From somewhere beyond the future a gnarly space van carrying the third act, The Phenomenauts, landed and guess what? They too began drinking.

Umm... if you can't see where this is heading you're just as sad as No Trigger's drinking abilities.

After one too many "pink-a-nators", an alcoholic concoction derived from the depths of Left Alone, Erik had me questioning his drumming abilities and wondering if he'd be able to keep up or function during their set. This was only his fifth show with No Trigger.

While everyone was getting lit I snuck into No Trigger's van and slapped a PCC sticker on the side of the TV that members spend pointless hours battling in NBA Jam when simultaneously someone I like to call Barstool found a 2006 uncirculated penny at the bottom of his sour cream and onion Pringle's... I like to think PCC had something to do with this little stroke of luck.

Disappointed to find he hadn't won a convertible, Barstool was equally happy to hear he'd be receiving a year's worth of Pringles in return for not threatening a lawsuit... who said PenCapChew never brought bands luck with striking it big?

Before continuing on the drinking binge we decided to grab take out from a joint that seriously worshiped Jackie Chan. On the walls were pictures of Jackie Chan, fucking Jackie Chan movie posters, the place was even named Jackie Chan's something-or-another... fucking stellar almond cookies though. Jon and Barstool would attest.

When we got back to the venue Brad was unloading and Tom was half-in-the bag pouting over goals and what he should do with his life. I said "wah, wah... suck it up... time for the show."

First up... The Beat Kids. Local youngster's... dudes were a Screeching Weasel replica... pretty fucking rad.

Second... No Talent. Filling big shoes, new members Erik and Bean surprisingly did alright. Erik missed a few rolls, Bill fucked a few licks, but nothing crucially recognizable. Jon and Barstool were their usual awesomeness. Mel got something stuck in her throat and Tom called me out in front of the ten kids that made the audience... asshole.

Third... Left Alone. Rancid-sounding, Thrasher rep'n, gnarly motherfuckers.

Last... The Phenomenauts, The Amino Acids of Oakland, California. Dudes had toilet paper dispensers hooked to leaf blowers that hovered t.p. over the crowd... fun set.

As the night died and merch boy Brad had nothing left to brag about Wasteland, Bean announced Tom C. had just puked all over the bar.

Great... time to split.

Mel found a hotel... No Trigger packed... and I sat down...

Erik: "you're sitting in puke"

Ray: "huh?"

Erik: "yeah... look down"

Ray: "godamnit!"

Not only did Tom C. find it necessary to puke all over the bartender, but also my seat... hence the new nickname... Barstool.

Anyway, we arrive at the nearby Hotel 6 stoked to find it reasonably priced and the room more than adequately sized... good work Mel! Half of No Trigger showers, half conduct a Steve Irwin vigil, I pass out and Barstool sleeps in van. We awake early... the rest of No Trigger showers. Barstool stumbles in claiming he's still drunk. I shower and we eat Denny's where crazy Germans walk out on a $100 tab. Downtown, Mel and I are passed off as fifth and sixth members of No Trigger when we're invited into Cleveland's Rock-n-Roll Hall of Fame free of charge. We tour... Jon purchases a two dollar 12 oz. can of Minute Maid... we leave. At our vehicles, Tom donates a copy of No Trigger's Big Mouth Japan release, Extinction In Stereo, which shreds (check out track 2 - North American) just as hard, if not more, than Canyoneer. We say goodbye... asses are grabbed... tears are shed.

While all stories mentioned here are true, some a tiny bit exaggerated, Tom, Tom, Jon, Billy, Erik, and even Brad, though seemingly feminine, are more along the lines of pussy. As far as their music goes... it fucking rips. Next month PCC will be traveling to No Trigger's home state of Massachusetts to partake in the October 20th tour opener with None More Black... this should be interesting.

And...

Through conversation with Tom it seems No Trigger will be touching Detroit sometime this November... we'll see. But in case of such a miracle you need to come out and witness for yourself the circus act called No Trigger. Trust me, it won't be disappointing... No Trig fer life!

Posted by Ray W at 11:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It was nearly a month ago, after glancing over PCC's "next big thing", I discovered No Trigger. I was pissed at first to find my name NOT on the list, so I decided to search out the assholes that beat me out...

"Haste The Day... okay, not bad"...

"A Wilhelm Scream... getting better, but definitely not prom king material"...

"Oh-oh, No Trigger?"...

I have to admit, at first listen I was quite impressed... a feeling I haven't received in a really long time. Immediately I called my sources and demanded a sample of their newly Nitro released album, Canyoneer.

After opening the very promptly delivered press kit I found not only No Trigger's album, but also one of those black-n-white résumé marketing photo thingy's... ya'know, the 8.5x11 white-bordered b&w photos with the band's logo and booking info on it... the one's that washed-up 80's metal bands swear by and autograph and that you see hanging on the walls of I-Rock. Anyway, at first glance I thought to myself, "Man, these dudes fucking rock for a bunch of 14 year olds". After slapping the disk in I swear that shit never left my car stereo for a week. No Trigger's heavy-but-poppy Bigwig/Kid Dynamite sound had me all giddy-excited like a little school girl. Great transitions, great backups, great licks, great breakdowns not to mention a great recording that they/you can thank whatever his name is of the Descendants for mixing.

Okay, you get the point... these guys are fucking sweet... but the next test... the test that would prove all... No Trigger's live game.

After doing some research, I was happy to see they were about to drop the bomb on Michigan, so again I called my sources right-quick and demanded they get us on the list.

The week of the show rolls around and it's that time to find out when they play, who is playing with them, and the venue at which they are playing...

"What the fuck!... Fenton, Michigan?!... Where the fuck is Fenton, Michigan?... Over an hour away?!... What, the fuck!... It starts at six o'clock?!... They're playing with six other bands?!... What the shit is this shit?!".

My first thought... "These dudes are clearly unprofessional and new to the game... Who the hell plays Fenton, fucking Michigan!?... where the hell is Fenton again?".

By this time I was seriously disappointed and debating on even attending the show I was so amped on seeing. Judgment day hits and still no decision on if I felt like paying 20 bucks in gas for a half hour with No Trigger. It wasn't until Mel phone-interviewed (phone-sexed) the lead singer and nearly orgasmed over their conversation, that I knew my final decision...

"Fuck yeah I'm going... these dude's are pimps".

So Mel gets the final details from Tom, the lead singer...

Mel: "He [Tom] told me they were going on around 8 or a lil' after 8... yadda-yadda-yadda... words... words... words, so we should leave at like 7".

Ray: "No fucking way... 6:30... I'm not driving an hour and a half to miss No Trigger".

So surprisingly we leave on time (Mel likes to pussy-foot sometimes) to arrive into the arms of a parking lot full of duck-butt haircuts, bandanna's, and tight pants at 7:45.

The "this doesn't look good" thought hits me then shortly behind it was the "bad decision Ray, bad decision".

We step foot into Fenton's Masonic Temple to find out negatives 1, 2, 3 & 4 of the night:

1) Even more over excited 13 year olds strapped with light sabers
2) no beer
3) no guest list, and
4) No Trigger already half way through their set

"What the fuck, I thought they said 8 not 7:30... assholes"

So after having to swindle are way past the door lady with no guest list, another 2 minutes of missed No Trigger, I quickly made it up to the front of where they were playing. From the three songs I got to witness came the impressive negatives 6 & 7... an all so knared-out clap-a-long and the lead singer saying frigg'n instead of fuck'n due to the overabundance of 13 year olds in the audience. After the set, Mel got the drummer to seek vocalist Tom, which only took an hour for him to find.

My first question to Tom...

"How do you like playing in front a bunch of 13 year olds?"

Tom: "They're the ones that pay the bills... they have pockets full of parent's money".

My second question...

"Why the fuck did you play Fenton instead of Detroit?".

Tom: "Well, we knew there would be a bigger crowd here and we would get paid more."

I think he told me the other Nitro band playing that night, The Swellers, were originally from Fenton, which sort of explains their poor choice in venues. Anyways, after bullshitting for a bit, Tom and I really warmed up to each other after he touched my leg and I caressed his ever-so-soft cheek. By this time, we were really getting into the meat-n-potatoes of No Trigger... actually no, not really, Tom talked about himself and himself only... conceited bastard.

Ray: "Duuuuuuudeee... you guys like Bigwig because you totally remind me of them?"

Tom: "Like totally Ray-dude!... were even planning on setting up a few shows with them"

Ray: "Dude... that would be sooooo rad. you know Tom-dude, yer voice actually kinda sorta sounds like Tom's from Bigwig... holy shit dude... you guys totally have the same name tooooooo!!!"

Tom: "I knooooow duuuuuude"

Ray: "Far ouuuuuttt brahhhh..... so where you guys playing tomorrow?"

Tom: "Chicago duuuude!"

Haha, nah, No Trigger is really a rad group of dudes and not as big of assholes as I make them out to be... I strongly suggest you pick up their new album, Canyoneer... and if you don't feel like clapping along to it... give it to yer little sister... she'll enjoy it.

No Trigger Breakdown:
Members: Tom, Tom, Mike, Mike, John (40% chance of getting one of their names right... Tom thinks he's a fucking mathematician or something)
Sounds: Bigwig-ish
Label: Nitro
Hometown: Amherst (Boston's shadow), Massachusetts
Food: Grilled Cheese
Ages: 21-25
Likes: Evanescence, bottled water, clap-a-longs, Las Vegas, Mates of State?, cheese crackers, spicy food, food in general, drinking, bar tenders, dabbling in the dark side, Rhapsody, Dragonforce, women's wind-breakers (baby-blue preferably), touching each other sexually, and pillow talk.
Dislikes: Pringles & YoHoo, longboards, smoking.

Posted by Ray W at 04:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Mel: “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, the new Lifetime, it's in my car”

Ray: “WHAT!”

(Books out bedroom, books out front door, hurdles ice patch in... slip... crack... fuck!... street.

Well not the whole thing.

Gets up, looks to see if anyone caught it, nope, good, wipes off, goes inside, shows Mel Ray's dedication to Lifetime... really just a bloody fingertip… rips Lifetime’s, Lifetime to iPod, listens to it the next day… all day… tracks 1, 3, 5, 10… over and over and over.)

Lifetime, the forefathers of post hardcore, in their heyday, were fucking genius. Influencers to these new pussy bands, that mean’s you No Trigger, you assholes like to listen to now a days.

But the new album...

sad, but true…

is better.

It FUCKING KILLS the old shit!

After a decade vacation, Lifetime returns not in wheelchairs or with walkers, but with a little less hair and a lot more balls. Stylistically the same, but somehow different, Lifetime, I can’t explain it, hits somewhere Lifetime hasn’t hit before. The band, alongside their music, I don’t know, got older... duh… got wiser... sure… matured... okay… got who-the-fuck-cares-the-only- thing-that-matters-is-their-back… YES!

Now settle down people, you can still hear the old Lifetime in the new… lead singers voice still resembles a 12-year-old girl’s, even higher, which explains the cover art, however, his falsetto, or octave, or range or something has gone askew… in a good way.

Blah, blah, blah… words, words, words… moral of the story is…

(Set to the tune of “My Boyfriends Back” by the Angels)

Life • time’s back and there’s gunna be trouble… Ohhh-Yeaahhh, Ohhh-Yeeaaahhhhhhh… Lifetime’s back!

Wow, that wasn’t gay or anything… whatever… anyways… put down the Fallout Boy, get your ass outside, slip on some goddamn ice, and pick yourself up some real goddamn music… it’s called Lifetime, Lifetime you turd, now fuck off.

Posted by Ray W at 03:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Funny enough, I discovered None More Black through some 13 year olds article in a Grosse Pointe North High School newspaper… not embarrassed to admit it.

You’re probably asking yourself, “But Ray, what on earth were you doing with a Grosse Pointe North High School newspaper?”

I was readying it for prepress… so fuck you.

As I skimmed the issue, my eyes suddenly fixated on two particular words when combined correctly equaled absolutely, hands down, the best fucking band in the whole goddamn planet… Kid Mother-Fucking Dynamite… I got pumped… I got seriously pumped.

My first reaction…

“Who is this little bastard and how’s he familiar with Kid D… he’s like twelve?”

Intrigued as shit… I read the little bastards article.

So why’d the zit-faced piece of shit mention one of my top favorite bands of all time?

Why’d the puke have to go and get me all excited?

Well to inform me on None More Black of course.

Hey kid, thanks, thanks a lot!

Anyways, through pecker head's article I came to realize that homeboy from Kid Dynamite started a new project called None More Black. Well not exactly a “new” project (circa 2000) but for someone like myself who’s been out of the “scene” since probably Kid Dynamite’s disassembly, shit was breaking fucking news to me.

So yeah… I was stoked… stoked to have the opportunity to maybe retreat back to my youth with the help of None More Black.

I checked out their website, their Myspace, and if Mel had put my request in for NMB’s Fat Wreck Chords release, This is Satire… but to no fucking surprise she didn’t or she forgot or some shit like that… its like pulling fucking teeth here at PCC headquarters, I swear to fucking god. After asking her a second time, politely, shit was in my hand and in my stereo lickity-fucking split.

After weeks of waiting, with so much anticipation built up behind the record, I admit, at first listen I was disappointed, really wanting to hear the fast-paced rawdawgness that made Kid Dynamite. But you know how the shit works… that album you thought was crap the first time you listened magically turns to gold when you decide to give it “the second chance”. Then you’re stuck there saying, “Man, shit does fucking rock”… this boys and girls is exactly what happened to me.

This is Satire’s array of music is extensive. The root starts at melodic punk and expands into many genres of music. Each song is stylistically different… starting slow, building up, and exploding… leaving you oh so relieved in the end. I once “performed” to This is Satire, fully-equipped with candles and bandanna-cuffs… that’s how diverse the shit is.

Anyways, for me, This is Satire is a new unique sound to my world… shit has evolved since the Kid Dynamite days. It leaves with a good taste in my mouth and hopefully it does for you. If not, feel free to leave a good taste in someone else’s mouth… trust me, shit works.

On a side note, in October, just an estimate on how long I’ve been sitting on this article, PCC had the opportunity to catch None More Black live in Boston. Although sound quality lacked due to “churchy” venue, None More Black’s energy surely did not. It was rad seeing some of my early musical icons in the raw plus Melissa and I made out like bandits… guitar player from NMB donated free shirt’s to PCC’s, "Twenty-Something’s Without Jobs/Lives"… not too shabby for traveling 11 1/2 hours.

Posted by Ray W at 10:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)