Tytul plyty: Just a Taste...
Wytwórnia: Selfrelease 2005
Ocena: 3,5/6

Debiutancki album amerykanskiego Scum Scunge niósl bardzo wazne przeslanie. Otóz, jak glosil juz sam tytul, pieciodolarowy banknot z licem Abrahama Lincolna wart byl dla zespolu mniej wiecej tyle co psie gówno, w czesci zdobiace okladke tamtej plyty. Zostajac w tematyce organoleptycznej, zespól zaserwowal nam tym razem zaledwie mini 'Just a Taste...', które szczesliwie ze smakiem psich fekaliów ma niewiele wspólnego.

W kwestii muzyki Scum Scunge pozostalo wierne kierunkowi obranemu na 'Five Bucks Ain't Shit' - to ciagle prosty, czasem moze nieco toporny thrashcore, oparty o wszedobylski groove i wyjatkowo jankeski wokal Donovana Clevelanda. Muza buja raczej w srednich tempach, nie rozpedzajac sie na dobre w zadnym z momentów plyty, co sprawia wrazenie monotonii i jednowymiarowosci muzyki. I choc momentami brakuje tu smoly i ognia, to Scum Scunge i tak kasuje - w przyblizeniu - polowe amerykanskiego metalcore'a, skupiajacego sie na kangurzych skokach, kroku w kolanach i dziarach o tematyce spoleczno-politycznej. Na 'Just a Taste...' slychac przynajmniej, ze mamy do czynienia z zespolem, który wyrósl ze sceny metalowej, a core'owy groove jest w tym wypadku raczej pochodna ich muzycznych horyzontów, w tym fascynacji pózna Panthera i Damageplan. Jednym slowem chlopaki graja modnie, choc nie na sile i to jest chyba ich najwieksza zaleta, bo przez ich druga plyte mozna kilkakrotnie przebrnac bez wiekszych bólów, a kilka gitarowych riffów, jak chocby ten w polowie 'Crack Your Knuckles', wyszlo im naprawde niezle. Do kompletu troche southernrockowych brzmien akustycznych w 'Complicated' i reminiscencje debiutu w 'Abuse', okraszonym goscinnym solosem Dimebaga Darrella. Szkoda, ze ten, pochodzacy z 'jedynki' numer, jest najlepszym momentem plyty. Widac chlopaki za mocno zaczeli kombinowac.

Z powyzszego wynika, ze z przyjemnoscia przywitalbym powrót Scum Scunge do stylistyki z 'Five Bucks Ain't Shit'. Tamten material mial w sobie energie, spontan, jakas podskórna wiarygodnosc (o solówkach Dimebaga nie wspominajac), a 'Just a Taste...' traci pare, choc pozornie funkcjonuje w ramach tego samego gatunku. Szkoda, liczylem na wiecej, choc to i tak przyzwoite mini...

Lista utworów
1. Nothing
2. Crack Your Knuckles
3. Complicated
4. Abuse

autor: Lukasz Dubaniowski
www.scumscunge.com

English Version:
The debut album of American Scum Scunge had it's significence. As the title suggested, the five bucks banknote with Abraham Lincoln's face on it was worth to the band as much as dog's shit, captured on the cover. This time (the phrase I used here can't be translated into English without loosing it's sense) we got only a mini called 'Just a Taste...', which happily doesn't have anything in common with dog's excrements.

In the case of music, Scum Scunge is still loyal to the direction taken on 'Five Bucks Ain't Shit' - it's still simple, sometimes a little bit clumsy thrashcore, based on ubiquitous groove andexceptionally 'Yankee' (it's also a phrase we use in Polish to give readers kind of sample) vocals of Donovana Clevelanda. The music's organised within mid tempos, without any spontanous speed breakdowns, what gives you the feeling of little bit monotonous and uniformity. Sometimes it lacks of fire and tar, but all in all Scum Scunge crushes - more or less - about half of American metalcore bands, concentrated on kangooroo-like jumping, trousers ending on knees, tatoos and social-political subjects. On 'Just a Taste...' you can clearly hear, that the band grew up from the metal scene, and core-ish groove, including the fascination with Pantera and Damageplan, is rather an addition to the musical horizon. You can say, that those guys are pretty modern, but they don't try to force that kind of music. And it's their biggest advantage, 'cause you can easily get through their second CD and some guitar riffs, like the one in the middle of 'Crack Your Knuckles', prooves that they have something more to say. The CD is completed with some southernrock acoustic sounds in 'Complicated' and reminiscents of the debut in 'Abuse', enriched with Dimebaga Darrell's solo. It's a pity, that the track released before on the first album, is the best moment of that record. Yeah, I can say that guys started to combine to much.

I'd like to hear Scum Scunge coming back to the style known from 'Five Bucks Ain't Shit'. That CD had energy, spontanous vibe and some truth hidden under the surface (and Dimebag's solos of course) and 'Just a Taste...' lacks of that elements, however it still deals with the same genre. I was counting on something more, but nonetheless it's still quite nice mini-CD...

(Scum Scunge is equally old-school and by-the-book ... you punk-ass mofo!)

Current Issue: Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Featured Music: Wednesday, September 21, 2005
HearSay
Here’s a disco-version of this week’s column for y’all, eh.

By HearSay

Scum Scunge is equally old-school and by-the-book ... you punk-ass mofo!
There’s something about progressive heavy metal and ice hockey that just goes together. Maybe it has to do with the fact that, to play either or both, you have to be technically proficient and more than willing to show it off (thanks to your low self-esteem). Or that the Great White North, the land where ice hockey is religion, has produced several legendary prog-metal outfits, including Rush, Max Webster, and Triumph, whose early-MTV videos always featured bass player Michael Levine in a Toronto Maple Leafs jersey. Or maybe that both the sport and the sound are men-only preserves — and extremely white.

HearSay hasn’t thought about the connection between prog-metal and hockey (and, incidentally, comic books, weight-lifting, and human skull tattoos) in years. Then I got Just a Taste ..., the most recent, four-track e.p. from local metal-heads Scum Scunge, along with a publicity photo of the band in which one of the guys is wearing — that’s right — a Toronto Maple Leafs shirt. (Awesome.)

There are problems. The c.d.’s mix is pancake batter; lead singer Donovan Cleveland has a liberal interpretation of staying on pitch; and, while I applaud the band’s ability and bravery to write songs about something (imagine that), some of what results is severely anemic lyrically. With the exception of “Complicated” and “Abuse,” two moderately mature tracks in which the concept of personal relationships is handled with a 10th-level Regdar fighter’s eye, the songs are, verbally, just a lot of chest thumping. “Nothing” finds Cleveland in the role of a tough, no-bullshit, clinically depressed guy who wants everyone to know he’s comfortable in his own tough, no-bullshit, clinically depressed skin. Similarly, “Crack Your Knuckles,” obviously an indictment of hip-hoppers who choose to battle with bullets instead of fists, is full of so much self-affirmation (in the words of Stuart Smiley: “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and — doggone it — people like me”) that you can’t help but smell the desperation. Cleveland even gets a little ghetto himself, saying stuff like, “step to me,” “punk-ass mother fuckers,” and “I step to anyone” — pure N.W.A. The track also gives the impression that the frontman dropped by the local watering hole one night, had words with someone, and then, on the way home, thought to himself, “Man, I shoulda just punched that dumbass in the teeth.” Unable to return to the scene of the confrontation, Cleveland could only turn his angst into music. And “Crack Your Knuckles” was born.

I’m probably making too much of the lyrics; they’re more than decent enough for music that draws its strength primarily from musicianship, and Scum Scunge’s is frequently inspired. The sound isn’t prog-metal in the traditional sense. It’s much heavier, more brittle, and less dependent on crafty time signature changes to make a point; head-banging rhythms are the chief passageways to impression-making. “Abuse” — a track from the band’s 2003 debut, Five Bucks Ain’t Shit, which features the late “Dimebag” Darrell Abbott on guitar — is a methodical stomp, with a simple, highly effective, old-school riff, a nice flattening out during the chorus, and Cleveland in good form throughout, going from monotone sing-talking to scream-singing to actual singing, as if he were three vocalists in one (à la Axl Rose).

Bands like Scum Scunge didn’t exist in the early 1980s, when prog-metal from Canada was spilling down into the states. You could see the outfit now as a reaction against the almost-anything-goes mentality that dictates most genre music today, including prog-metal. Scum Scunge seems to be saying that playing strictly by the rules of adventuresome heavy metal can not only lead to some decent songs, it’s also good sportsmanship. Wayne Gretzky would approve. Scum Scunge has two big shows this weekend. On Fri., they play the Ridglea Theater (6025 Camp Bowie Blvd., in Fort Worth) as part of a benefit for (no, not Katrina survivors) Richard Van Zandt, co-owner of the Ridglea who’s slowly recovering from a serious illness. Also on the bill are LaME, the Aftermath, 3/4 Ton, Necrogazm, Negative 263, and more. Scum Scunge then plays Sat. with Rotting Corpse, Necrogazm, and Kromium at Dreamworld Music Complex, 3102 W. Division St., in Arlington. Visit www.myspace.com/scumscunge.

Other Stuff

For those of you who missed the opportunity to live vicariously through your children about a month ago, don’t fret: Rock Camp will return, possibly with a couple-a twists. Here are two Camp-related ideas being kicked around very informally (we’re talking, 3-in-the-morning-bar-talk informally): Rock Camp for folks 50 and over and Rock Camp for “chicks.” Visit www.fwam.org, the web site of the ad hoc group that oversees Rock Camp, the Fort Worth Academy of Music. ... Taking place this Sat. at Firehouse Art Studios and Gallery (4147 Meadowbrook Dr., in east Fort Worth) is another installation of IMPRoVISED SOUND. Featuring some of North Texas’ finest sonic artists and promoters of the style — including Terry Horn, Mark Cook, Michael Briggs, and Ryan Supak — IS is neither a concert nor an art exhibition; it’s an experience (dude). Cover charge is $6. Stop by www.firehouseart.net or www.myspace.com/terryhorn. ... One guy who knows a lot about sound art and, in particular, musique concrete is Jhon Kahsen, the straight-ahead jazz artist formerly known as Johnny Case. Over several decades of recording, Kahsen has also put on polycarbonate some self-described “collages for concrete sound”; his most recent, Auralaire, came out a few weeks ago. Now that he’s adopted a Muslim name in honor of the civilians killed in the Iraq War and has recently released a full-length of protest jazz songs called Love’s Bitter Rage, Kahsen is beating the peace drum louder by holding a c.d.-release party Sun. at Arts Fifth Avenue (1628 5th Ave., in Cowtown; 817-923-9500). Kahsen will be accompanied by some of Cowtown’s finest jazzbos, including percussionist Joey Carter, bassist Byron Gordon, and horn players Chris White and Sylvester Jones. Cover charge is $10. See www.jcasemusic.com. ... Shows you oughta check out this week: Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios (411 E. Sycamore St., in Denton; 940-387-7781) is hosting not one but two crazy-ass Fort Worth bands. Wed. brings Darrin and Adam Kobetich’s bluegrass-rock-jazz-film-score-C&W group, the Electric Mountain Rotten Apple Gang (with Warren Jackson Hearne and Esmeralda Strange); and Tue. gives us a synth-pop duo that has kept public appearances to a minimum, Best FWends (with Grand Buffet and DJ Jester the Filipino Fist). Lastly, the Gypsy Tea Room (2548 Elm St., in Dallas; 214-74-GYPSY) delivers to North Texas, on Fri., Tristan Prettyman, who is not a man but is extreeemely pretty (with Mike Doughty’s Band), and, on Sat., the kick-ass psychedelic-metal outfit from Sweden, Dungen (with the Doves, Longwave, and Mia Doi Todd).

Contact HearSay at hearsay@fwweekly.com

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Copyright 2005 FW Weekly.
1204-B W Seventh St Ste 201 - Fort Worth, Texas 76102
Phone: (817) 321-9700 - Fax: (817) 335-9575 - Email Contact
Web Publishing system by Echoes Media, Inc.

I got my hands on this CD with one simple phone call and what a funny one it was. What are you asking is a Scum Scunge? Well I didn't get that far. It is four guys from Texas that are playing a weird blend of stoner rock. Anyway. The guitar player hasn't been playing that long and has come out mastering some doom. They definitely have a doom sound. The vocals are doom like but Godsmack fans may dig them "Wash Away" is the first tripper. Back to the story. It turns out that the guitar player was a photographer and was clicking off shots of bands like Pantera. That is why you see appearances by Drunkbag Darrell on three of the tracks "Believe", "How Many Times" and "Abuse". The first being heavier. "My Hell" is more of a pissed track. More fuzz rocking comes on "I Don't Need This". While "Hangman's Noose" grips tight and more of the doom comes back. Sorta Coal Chamber, St. Vitus meets Pantera. "Leaving" is a confession of a pissed off dude. Those that want to hear some down home metal might want to check into this twisted combo.

Added: Monday, January 26, 2004

..::Serbian Translation::..

Teksaski sastav Scum Scunge oglasio se krajem prosle, 2004. godine, objavljivanjem EP-a. Inace, o njihovom debiju, "Five Bucks Ain' t Shit", imao sam prilike da pisem ranije. Rec je o grupi koju predvodi glavni autor i gitarista Stuart Taylor i koja kroz svoj izraz apsorbuje vise zanrovskih idioma - od hard rocka, dooma, core elemenata, pa i nekih grunge detalja.

"Just A Taste..." je EP sa cetiri numere, od kojih su tri nove: "Nothing", "Crack Your Knuckles", "Complicated", a i jedna stara, sa proslog izdanja - "Abuse", na kojoj je inace participirao tragicno preminuli Dimebag Darrell. Scum Scunge kroz jedan izrazito narativni pristup balansiraju elementima hard rocka, rocka, metala, dooma, metal / corea. Pojedini aranzmani njihovih pesama dopunjeni su akusticarskim dodacima. Sama produkcija, cini se, da nije dovoljno istakla sve ostale detalje, osim vokalnih, ali je to na kraju bio njihov izbor. Od kompletnog cutog materijala, izdvojio bih numeru "Crack Your Knuckles", kao ubedljiviju od ostalih.

..::English Translation::..

SCUM SCUNGE
" Just A Taste "
( Self - released )

- ... "Just A Taste"... is an EP with 4 tracks in, and 3 are brand new : " Nothing", "Crack Your Knuckles", "Complicated", and last track is older one - "Abuse", taken from band's debut, and this is song where Dimebag Darell has been participated. Scum Scunge in one tipicall narative approach dealing with elements of hard rock, metal, rock, doom, metal/core. Some arrangments are fullfilled with acoustic passages. A productional work in first plan took a vocal rola's but seems that other releasing details band putted in second plan. In my opinion, song "Crack Your Knuckles" sustein more convincier elements than others...

Rating : 7 / 10

Scum Scunge... (crazy name, I mean, what the hell is scunge?)... is a Texas band that was founded in August of 2001, when main man, and guitarist, Stuart Taylor paired up with his long time friend Gristle T. on bass. They soon started spewing forth some old-school metal. Then, with the help of some friends, they began to play some local gigs, but things quickly fell apart, and they were soon looking for a new drummer and front man. Answering the call were Gristle's long time friend Brently, on drums, and Donovan "Dody" Xaine on vox. The band calls their music "Alternative Old-School Metal", claiming to "combine 80's metal guitar riffs with aggressive and melodic vocals of a new generation". I guess that's fair. What I seemed to hear was a combo of post Seattle Grunge, combined with hints of the more aggressive elements of the Nu-Metal scene. (Not that rap filled Nu stuff, more like Coal Chamber-isms). They can also heavy it up pretty well when they want to. The music sounds surprisingly emotional. I say that, as going into the CD, based on the cover art (a dog taking a dump on a fiver) you might think these guys are a joke. Let me tell you however, they are far from a joke. The disc takes a few spins to really sink in, but once it does, it's like an old friend. My only problem is that the tunes often seem like they don't know where to go. What I mean is that things are often kind of middle of the road, you get the feeling that if they took the song and slightly revamped it, they could either make it lighter, and have a huge radio hit, or make it heavier, and blast your ears off. Still, these guys are worth putting on your Metal radar. An interesting note, appearing on guitar for three tunes is "Drunkbag Darrell"... and I'm sure we can all guess who that might be. So if Scum Scunge is good enough for him, they're probably good enough for you to. For all the info on these lads, check out scumscunge.com.
RATING = 6.5 Metal (Released 2003)

Well, the underground Texas boys are back, sort of... What we have here is a new demo/EP called "Just a Taste..." which I assume they're shopping around to the usual label dorks. We have three new songs, and the killer track "Abuse" from their debut full-length is also included. It was one of the three songs that the late Dimebag Darrell leant his guitar talents to on the band's 2003 platter. Anyway, things haven't changed a whole lot in the SS camp, but they have changed a bit. They're still playing a sort of middle of the road, rough and tumble style of Metal. And according to the lyrics in the new track "Complicated" it seems that what you see is what you get, and they ain't gonna apologize for it. The new tracks are pretty cool, and I think the band seems a little more comfortable in their skins. Inspiration seems to come from all over; Thrash, post Grunge, Southern Rock, Nu, classic Metal, that cool NOLA sound, etc. It's all blended into a classic American melting pot. At times this'll inspire you to get up and fight, and at others to kick back with a "Bud" and a couple belts o' "Jack". This is some very easy stuff to get into, and makes me look forward to album number two. I think the only thing that could hold this band back from getting their message to the masses is their name, I mean fuck, I still don't know what "scunge" is... do you?
RATING = 7 Metal (Released 2005)

- Reviewed by: Tim

A new batch of local c.d.'s for the pooping on/savoring.

By Anthony Mariani

It's the beginning of spring, and we all know what that means: flip-flops. Unless you're a metalhead. Then your Wolverines stay tightly knotted around your stinky-ass feet. The logic behind this is: When you're sloshing around a local hole in the wall, listening to Tendril or Garuda, you'd better be togged up in the appropriate outerwear for fancy line-dancing. One refreshing aspect about SXSW this year was the amount of body-surfing going on at the metal shows. We've come a long way since the early 1990s when pantywaist club owners -- and the musicians who had signed contracts with said pantywaists -- frowned nastily on any type of "dancing," including but not limited to body-surfing and/or moshing. Slamming into one another is what made this country's music great. My unfettered love is for those metal stoners of yore who worked part-time as lab techs at photo huts, drank aftershave, banged IHOP waitresses, and on weekends entered mosh pits with spite, malevolence, and hidden erections. Those dark clowns kept it "real" (whatever that means; I think it's something positive). "Bumping" into one another is a good thing; I mean really throwing your weight around as if every other person were a big, shiny, red button that, when pressed, delivers an envelope of anthrax to each of the five Backstreet Boys' homes. We need more slamming. Then our local clubs would be packed again, and our wounded but proud local club owners and their loved ones wouldn't have to continue subsisting on twice-chewed corn, the red paste that forms on the lips of empty ketchup bottles, glue, and old shirt stains.

Cleveland Rocks

Whoever told the guys from Scum Scunge that it'd be a good idea to use a really poor photograph of a Chihuahua taking a poop on a five dollar bill as the cover image of their latest c.d., and call the c.d. Five Bucks Ain't Shit needs to spend a weekend in a Turkish prison in underwear made of peykek cocoa. Not to say that the Chihuahua image doesn't have a certain jackass-ish appeal; it's just that it has little to do with Scum Scunge's relatively serious, relatively tasteful metal. Imagine the Wreck Room casualty, high on $17 earned from recent plasma donations, who spies this c.d. in Wherehouse Music's bargain bin: He's gonna think the disc is some stupid-humor trip, the kind he likes, and actually buy it, and then get all bummed out once he listens to the thing and realizes that it's not stupid humor at all but heavy-duty, non-novelty sludge rock. He'll probably get all bent out of shape and mop over a customer's shoes the next day at work. Scum Scunge -- if I know Scum Scunge (and I don't) -- probably wouldn't want that to happen.

Take these songs as autobiographical works, and lyricist/lead singer Donovan "Dody" Cleveland comes off as the kind of guy who tattoos his "issues" on his arms: one for his Oedipal complex, one for suicidal tendencies, one for hating his girlfriend for polishing off the last Big Mac the week before, etc. I guess it's cool if, like most people, you like victim art (a.k.a. "edgy" art) -- ya know, "art" about drug abuse, sex, street life, crime, all that shit. (Can't someone create a fictional universe in which, say, using ATM machines or placing pictures of relatives in wallets can be seen as "edgy"? It seems that a lot of young and -- I'll say it -- unimaginative artists incorporate drug use and/or suicidal tendencies and/or crime and/or sex into their "art," merely to appeal to that low-brow demographic that's come to believe that these types of phenomena are what make up "reality." Cussing in song or writing songs about using drugs or fucking are like shortcuts to young, lazy listeners' hearts -- something, uh, I would never do. Within a certain context, me calling my mom to say happy birthday can be just as "edgy," if not edgier, than you huffing paint thinner. It just takes a real artist to make my phone call matter. Real artists, in case you didn't know, are in short supply these days, even 'round these parts.)

"Leaving" is Cleveland's big, warm goodbye to his mom. Let's say we take the content of the song as factual: What the fuck is a 27-year-old doing still living with his mother? Cleveland's heartbreaking work of staggering genius goes like this: Things were good in the fam until kid No. 2 came along, Cleveland's younger brother; Cleveland got jealous, started shoplifting and "hanging out with gangs"; Cleveland got sent away, to his father's; Cleveland got abused; Cleveland wrote a song about how mom screwed up his life; Cleveland called the song "Leaving" and put it on this c.d.; the end. To his credit, Cleveland, in the song, avoids letting us see him as a charity case. He delivers the lyrics as if he were talking directly to his mother. This makes us, the listeners, seem incidental to the exchange; we're just eavesdropping, and Cleveland, in an artsy-fartsy sense, doesn't even know we're listening. All good, huh? Well, seeing as this is pop music, as public and democratic an art form as there is, Cleveland clearly understands that people (e.g., us) are going to hear his rant. Still, as an artistic touch, the talking-directly-to-mom approach is pretty nifty, even if Cleveland sounds as if he's reading his lyrics from scratch paper instead of inhabiting them. (Maybe a GlamourShot of mom hanging in the recording booth would have helped ol' Donovan achieve an appropriate level of animosity?)

So here's who Scum Scunge has likely been listening to lately: Napalm Death; Michael Jackson; Bio-Hazard; Mitsubishi commercials; and, for old-school's sake, Megadeth. The snare drum, stuffed securely into the background of the sound, snaps like a firecracker. The guitars growl. The bass throbs. It's all pretty hardcore without being too annoying or annoying enough to make you wanna shatter the c.d. with a rubber phallus into 253 pieces. Which isn't to say that Five Bucks Ain't Shit is bereft of what could pass as melody. There's actually something of a hook in each song. For the record: Scum Scunge's shtick would probably play well at the Wreck or the men's restroom in the Tom Thumb on Bryant-Irvin.

Review by Harder Beat:

Yet another round-up of local-music happenings:

• For months, I've been putting off Stuart Taylor, guitarist for Fort Worth metal band Scum Scunge. Told him I couldn't write about his band's debut disc because the name of it contains a very, very bad word. Told him we couldn't run the cover of it because it is a very gross piece of art.

Told me other publications around town wrote about it, so why couldn't I? Told him those other publications also run adult ads in their classified section. "Different audiences, dude," I told him.

Told me I could review the record and just bleep out the name. Told him we really couldn't do that, that if we're going to write about a band, we need to print the full name of their record. Told him the exception is B-Hole Surfers, a very popular Texas rock group. Told him, see, we can't even run their whole name, and they've sold a million records and their drummer's from Fort Worth. Told me he understood.

Told him I would make a deal: I would listen to the record and, if I liked it, I would plug one of their shows. Told me that sounded good.

Scum Scunge performs Wednesday at the Aardvark.

• If you're having a hard time finding Moron-a-Thon, the latest release by Dallas punk-pop outfit Darlington, here's why: A tiny label in the Netherlands, Stardumb Records, put it out. It'll be the band's third release, in just as many years, for the label. "It's a great little punk-rock label," says band front-guy Chris Darlington. "They're kind of like Lookout used to be in the U.S. They've worked with some great bands, the Queers, Groove Ghoulies, and they're getting to the point of being pretty well-known."

As he has done with Darlington's previous releases, Darlington, the guy, wrote Moron-a-Thon and hired a cast of area musicians to play on it. When Darlington, the band, hits the road this fall to support it, it'll be an entirely different lineup. "There really is no band," he says. "It's just me and whoever I can get. Luckily, the songs aren't too complicated. You can learn them pretty fast."

Moron-a-Thon, the band's sixth full-length record, isn't much of a departure from previous outings. He likes it that way, keeping it simple and familiar.

"I try to do something with each album: I try to have a party song, a winter song, a summer song," he says. "I try to mix funny, fast punk songs with more Beach Boys-harmonies-type songs."

Over the past few years, Darlington has sought out a major-label deal, with no luck. He's not so hot to sign now, because he makes a good living off the road. But he did hang onto the rejection letters.

"I put them in the liner notes [of the new record]," he says. "So if I ever did make it big, and fans went back and got this record, they'd see those letters and say, 'Those people were stupid for not signing them.' "

Darlington's CD release party, open to all ages, is Sunday at the Gypsy Tea Room in Dallas. Doors open at 6:30 p.m.

• Also celebrating the arrival of a new disc this weekend is guitar-pop outfit Tripp Fontaine, who'll inaugurate the arrival of its debut EP, Random Thoughts on a Paper Napkin, Saturday at Club Clearview.

Ah, I don't know. I dig the picture of the dog on the cover taking a dump on Mr. Lincoln. Yeah, that would explain the album title, huh? The music is rather cool. Hard rock, a little thrash maybe. Take your pick, it's cool either way. Sound quality's raw in a good way. The vocals. Now, there's where I raise an eyebrow here and there. Now, when the vocals try to match the heaviness of the music, there's no problem. What should I call it...when he screams, growls, yells, whatever, it sounds good. When he's speaking or trying to sing...ah, it doesn't work for me. Just seems out of place and it makes the album seem a bit uneven. I can dig it though. I'd say, check it out and when these guys go to do another album, just stick to what you do best. The music is good, keep it raw, keep your edge and do the vocal thing to match the music. Potential's here...make the most of it.