The Headies - Huge in Germany, or Suck It Jersey Beat!

Here's the latest Headies review form Ox Fanzine Issue #87 out of Germany!!

HEADIES -
"Sugar And Spice (And Everything’s Fucked)" CD | Madison Underground | madisonundergroundpress.com | 21:54 ||
Pop-Punk in seiner schlichtesten form aus Wilmington, Delaware. GROOVIE GHOULIES und QUEERS lassen grusen, die RAMONES ja sowieso, 14 Songs kommen mit knapp 22 Minuten Spielzeit bestens klar, und gecovert wird auch, namlich "Bible Belt Baby“ von THE GIZMOS. Seit dem Vorganger "It’s A Super-Man’s World“ vom Sommer 2008 hat sich also nichts verandert in der HEADIES-Welt, und das ist auch gut so. Ist doch gut, dass manche dinge einfach ewig so bleiben, wie sie sind. (6) Joachim Hiller

And here's the translation:

Pop-punk in its simplest form from Wilmington, Delaware. GROOVIE GHOULIES and gravel can QUEERS, or the RAMONES anyway, 14 songs coming in just under 22 minutes playing time, very tight, and also covers, namely "Bible Belt Baby" by THE GIZMOS. Since the previous "It's A Super-Man's World" in the summer of 2008, nothing has changed in the Headies World, and that's a good thing. It's alright
that some things just stay like this forever, as they are.

Another Great Jersey Beat Review

The Headies - "Sugar and Spice (And Everything's Fucked)" CD -
One of the Headies is wearing a Riverdales hoodie over a New York Dolls t-shirt on the cover of this release. That's about right: they attempt sleazy guitar-driven garage rock in a 1-2-3-4 style. Sloppy playing and the band members' suspended adolescence make that otherwise solid combination not worth bothering with here. I cheated on first listen and skipped right to "PepsiFuckCheer" because that's a stupidly awesome song title. The song, however, is just stupid: "I love my girl and she loves my dick / Give her a Pepsi or she's gonna have a fit." Throughout the album, I tend to agree with Wendy, who is mentioned in the song "Jungle Girl": "My last girlfriend was Wendy, she was such a fucking bitch / Said I couldn't handle adult relationships." These are 30-something dudes apparently lusting after "Super Boot[ies]" and "Outer Space Short[ies]." Randomly placed terrible riffs, throat-hurting shouts, and falling-apart Beach Boys and Rolling Stones covers, don't help their case.
Reviewed by Chris Angiotti

Oh, opinions... I sent the record in to J.B. labeled "give to anyone but Andrew Fersch" who had really brutalized us. At least this dude clearly listened to the record! I wonder where he got the "thirty-something" thing from though...

"The older you get the more rules they'e gonna try and get you to follow..." - Wooderson

Not to get bitchy or defensive, but Chris betrayed some insight into his personality that is really not too favorable. For one, what part of garage punk rock is supposed to be sophisticated, tight, or mature? Is that what the listener pines for when reaching for a Sonics, Dictators, Gizmos, or Headies record? I think not. He makes it clear that "sleazy guitar-driven rock in the 1-2-3-4 style" is a "solid combination", and where we lost him is our "sloppy playing" and "suspended adolescence". Well, with the Headies, that is what you get. We have long since dismissed the pretension of certain punk rock and embraced the silly, "it's supposed to be fun" side. For some reason, this dude don't like that fun. Perhaps he sees us as comix or sci-fi geeks and his machoness can't take it. Citing us as "thirty-somethings" (we are all in our twenties! and deeply so when these songs were written!) and feeling some level of disgust in regard to our "lusting" after Super Booties and Outer Space Shorties, makes me think he wants more "age appropriate" song writing. Well, for some behind the scenes info, "Super Booty" is a love-story about a regular dude dating a comic book super hero, with adept and apropos lyrics. It is a challenging topic to write properly about whilst maintaining sweet rhymes and a sense of humor, and 99% of listeners agree it rules! "Jungle Girl" is a meta-narrative based on what happens to Peter Pan's love life directly following the egress of Wendy and the Darling Children back to London, concerned not only with which Neverland Girls he dates, but also with the syndrome assigned to his fictional name and the boys to men it's ascribed to back here in the real world, like me, apparently. So, it's fun, it's light, and it holds a intellectual challenge to those able to identify it. AND - lyrics are an abstracted reflection of the writer, who can lay out his own feelings into words, or take it up an artistic level and create characters, scenarios, and even action that comment on himself, the world, or the interaction thereof. So, don't worry Chris, I don't actually date aliens. That would be immature! Mainly, it was odd how the subject matter rubbed Chris the wrong way. Does he think we should be tighter and more serious while facing down the quantum fog of thirtiness? Fuck him!

I prefer:

From Razorcake.com - "Sugar and Spice (And Everything’s Fucked)" CD: What you got here is fun garage punk with a big dollop of primitive ‘60s influences and a great album title. Fourteen blasts of catchy melodies all contained in songs less than two and a half minutes, eleven of which are originals penned by The Headies. The lyrics are equal parts crude and cute which always seems fitting for garage rock of this nature. Highly recommended if you are a fan of acts as diverse as The Angry Samoans, Gas Huffer, early Screeching Weasel, or if you are just looking for an entertaining, snotty album to play at your next party.

From Maximumrocknroll 319 - "Sugar and Spice (And Everything's Fucked)" CD: Loose garage pop-punk. Reminds me of the early Hi-Fives and the Groovie Ghoulies with its raw production and fun attitude. I'm hearing a little Zeroes too. Good stuff. (ML)

From Rainbow Records Online - The Headies – "Sugar and Spice (And Everything’s Fucked)" CD - If you don’t like this album you are an uptight asshole that no one likes to be around. - Nate Powerstance

Distantbuthere 说：

20 天前

kt and i just bought this cd called "sugar and spice (and everything's fucked)" by the headies. you would love it. very pop-punk-surf-rock and completely silly. One of the songs is about a slutty alien he meets and in the refrain it says "you're the only alien i adore" one song also begins with "my last girlfriend was wendi she was such a fucking bitch." needless to say it made me think of you.

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The Headies - Huge in Germany!

Another review from the old country! Dude, I'm not sure if google translator is all it's cracked up to be, but here is what the Ox-Fanzine thinks about the Headies first EP, "It's a Superman's World." (Available on Interpunk.com and CDBaby.com).

Humph, nevertheless, eight songs, of it two covers, this is rather a better EP, or? If there is the whole, however, for the small price and with cool songs, goes already to order. The HEADIES (so shots in the head are called, by the way, in the "Killerspiel" jargon proved my Google search) from Delaware play classical punk rock in DESCENDENTS-and QUEERS kind and can be only convincing so of course. The cover are "Indian giver" of the RAMONES and " High on drugs " from the solo record of Metal Mike (ANGRY SAMOANS). This fits of course like the fist on the eye, and who is a fan of the tape called in the course of the text, can access without hesitation, all the others can sound the complete album before on cdbaby.com/cd/headies. There is a point Deduction for the length or shortness of the album (7)

Cool! A seven out of something! Usually we get one word in German or French that translates to "horrible!"

Tit Patrol - Big In Germany!!

Ah, another glowing review, this time from Germany, courtesy of http://www.ox-fanzine.de/ (and print issue #78 for you collectors). As translated by Google. I did a little additional online translating and found that "Pubertierendenmusik" means "pubescent music", and "oberdämlich" means "super stupidly".

The band name is the first oberdämlich and adolescent. Musically offer the quintet from Newark, Delaware fairly antiquated U.S. Punk, which is quite good with "RAMONES on Valium" describe could. Somehow it all sounds far too simplistic.

I like it not. Maybe I'm just now but also too old for rustic Pubertierendenmusik. But so what?

Review by Guntram Pintgen

Tit Patrol Maximumrocknroll Review

Ah, yes, the Tit Patrol review from the "demo" section of the January 2009 Max Rock, because those losers turned over our mad-pro looking disc and saw it was blue underneath so it's apparently a demo. Now you don't have to buy that rag.

"I can't explain why it's totally OK when the Queers sing about the sizes of various women's breasts, but it's completely unnacceptable when a handful of teenage boys from Delaware raise the banner of repressed and mangled male patriarchal sexuality high (hopefully tongue-in-cheek) in an effort to appeal to all the ignorant punk boys of the world (who, as some of us know, are a dime a dozen anyway.) TIT PATROL. Jeez, I know it seems unfair to rip on their name so much. It's a relief there aren't any bizarre tracks about girlfriends or chicks at shows (with tits), which is exactly what I expected.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, the tracks are recorded very well. It seems they're going for that very special Queers sound and attitude, but unfortunately are ending up with a mood of dudely absurdity equal to that of the Bouncing Souls. Except for that song "One of My Moods" which actually sort of rules, and, through very nice guitaring and vocals, achieves that classic Lookout! pep and bounce. They also manage to portray a larger spectrum of emotion and experience than the hated Bouncing Souls, ranging from anal foot-fucking (on the first track "Butt Foot") to dealing with invasion of space ("You're Givin' me the Heebie Jeebies") to mental health (in the songs "Daily Lobotomy" and "One of My Moods". (Helen) (11-song CD, no lyrics)"

This moron and her logical fallacies of review... like most creeps who review the TIT, they can't wait to listen to the record before the start their review. As you can see, the whole first paragraph is what she expected out of us due to our name. For one, we are heir apparents to the Queers, and all y'all are just demo reviewers for a magazine that ruled until ten years ago. So, it is okay for us to do whatever the F we want. Then, we aren't teenagers, and we hate so-called idiot punk boys that spurned Helen Review Lady. I won't dis her too hard, but it is telling that after listening to "Butt Foot", a song about a medical condition, she made it into something dirty. Stupid Californian. Still, who ever thought our silly little pop-punk record would be accused of "raising the banner of repressed and mangled male patriarchal sexuality high." Hilarious and insightful, bitch.

It's a Soda Pop Sting! or Justifying the Soda Pop Kids

I know it's hard, but you shouldn't read anybody else's record reviews, just mine. Because with anyone else, there is a great chance that they are wrong, but with my reviews, you get the added advantage of them always being right! FOR INSTANCE - I just read a so-called review of the Soda Pop Kids' Teen Bop Dream on the so-called punknews.org or whatever, that, while un-flattering, simply painted a picture of the author's ignorance and poor taste. I recently used the Kids' as an example of what not to do, sure, but that was to educated and sensitive rock and roll fan readers, not the punk-less idiots over at said site. SO, now what happens, is I get to tell you why the Soda Pop Kids' as exemplified by Teen Bop Dream are one of the few bands you should be listening to who are currently making music.

First off, this is a crazy America that we live in today, where having balls is viewed as passe. Hence, most "alpha dogs" in the underground are marked as emaciated, dour, unfriendly, and lame. And their music reflects this. Bo Diddly and Handsome Dick are bores, unconsidered and completely other to everything that is popular... that is, on the street and on the tv, oddly enough. So, a lot of opinions and reviews of current music in this sweeping homogeneous mass consciousness that is misidentified as an underground come from this mindset, where it is uncool to be able to self-regulate your own mental disturbances, have a stiff upper lip and be able to take a fucking punch!

Now, I never wanna be a "man," like a grown-up cat that works the nine to five and does what he has to do to maintain the Status Quo, but I am however 500% man, all man and mean-meat, baby! And as such, so is my music, The Ramones! The New York Dolls! Now, any writer that would paint the New York Dolls in a overtly negative light, and rather flatly, I might add, by the transitive property, is not one whose taste matters to us. The dope types, "the song segues into bluesy glam rock of the Dolls variety, complete with rock’n’roll piano, mediocre solos, and Johansen-y off-key vocals. Not a great song." After criticizing the record as derivative of both the Dolls and the Exploding Hearts, which the author does admit are BIG shoes to fill, he ends with the real zinger, "the Soda Pop Kids just need a little less "Throwaway Style," and a lot more substance," in reference to the Hearts' tune. Well I can only imagine what this dude's idea of substance is... though he's obviously a big Crass fan. I will say that he was crisp and non-personal in his panning, a real pro. Anyway, throwaway style is just as throwaway as junk culture is junk.

The first song is called "Saturday Every Day" with is either inspired by or derivative of the Dictator's regal declaration, depending on if you like the tune or not (and if you've listened to the Dictators!). I do, starting with either little kids or the band's girlfriend's chanting of the title line. I believe that the Kid's are in that state of sincere consciousness, where they are doing everything for a reason, but they are doing it well. The song is mainly about how life sucks and is harsh but you can dance it up later on... now this is good stuff, but I have heard it done more inspirationally... and universally, as I do not yet buy what the Kids' idea of a good time might be. I think I might be able to have a better time, my way. As the song progresses, they verge a little to far into the conscious side and away from the sincerity. Maybe they just need to think about it a little less and be a little sloppier.

Hmm... now, I do agree with my fellow journalist that the record kicks it in with track number two, "I Fell In Love at The Arcade" in which they make all the right moves. The title does speak for itself, having a good time with a sexy lass amongst the pinball and Pac-Man references, blissfully rotting all our brains, the right way. Now, this is great, but really, Ms. Pac-Man is the preferred reference in any situation. These days in Delaware, the only Arcades are down at the Boardwalk in Rehobeth, but back in the day, the hot Arcades included "Aladdin's Castle" and the Concord Mall's own "Space Port," oh, and they used to allow smoking at the mall, kids! As a wee tyke I mastered such games as "Moon Patrol," "Pole Position," and "Bride of Pinbot." He sings, "Did I mention they got Burger Time? Well, it's Burger Time all the time!" And that is what I call substance! See, two VERY important things in rock and roll are cheeseburgers and soda pop. That is iconic, baby. Plus the piano playing is great and it's twelve bar blues with funny and true lyrics, and it's fast. It should be a top ten hit single.

They keep it going strong with "The Terrestrial Twist" about an alien who comes to Earth and teaches him and the human race how to boogie like a spaceman. He's just trying to get back to his baby when the outer-space dude abducts him, does some tests and decides that Earth Men are ready to know the moves, so he teaches the singer how to shake it down and sends him back down planet-side. He, of course does the responsible thing and teaches the Terrestrial Twist to the world, as best as he can remember, of course. This is a great fucking song and is derivative of nothing save for maybe Moral Crux's "Psychotic Neurotic" and by all means, derive away. Them same little kid/girls are back and singing back-up "yeah yeah, all right, twistin' to-nite." Actually, they're playing with and rearranging alot of early roots rock and roll tricks, but in such a way that it is just barely recognizable as such, it's skillfully rendered and well done, with the best lead guitar lines on the record, and it's about alium shimmee-shake. Yeah, perhaps most importantly, it deals with another iconic rock and roll scenario: aliens and space travel. Other such iconic scenarios include: the jungle, the wild west, down on the farm, city street back alleys, school, the soda shoppe, etc... Perhaps a good rock and roll technique for or even trademark of it's true believers is a healthy skepticism in the line between realities. Maybe it's a self-esteem issue, that maybe one would like oneself better if one were an ape-man, a space ace, back in high school, etc... But the rock and roller will tell you that he actually already is an ape-man, and he is.

The next song, "Well Well Well" starts out with the singer, by the psuedo-name of Jonny P. Jewels, (kinda like the Television song, or TV as I call them), whose voice is crazy. He has this controlled vocal crack and puts on like a dance hall emcee from the fifties, or maybe a game show host, or maybe how Batman's nemesis, the Joker, might sing, if he were in a rave-up white boy rhythm and blues band. While this beginning, where the singer just howls "well" a bunch of times, comes on closer to that conscious side I was talkin' 'bout, the Kids finally come out and say they don't care about criticisms on their character or their intentions with the chorus, "White Belts! Everything's so heart felt. Ain't got no time for acoustic recluse, when you just gotta, just gotta cut loose." White belts, in this day and age, a symbol of hipsterism, an accusation which I can only assume gets tossed at these guys a lot due to their look... pure Exploding Hearts, Gay-Wave mullet, eighties metal (NEVER GOOD), flashy striped suits. I think when people in bands do themselves up like that, they are thinking Johnny Thunders, but come on, no one should minstrel show Johnny up, ok. But right away they spit it out, that everything's so heartfelt, and you can tell it is. Hipsters do not play music like this. Also great about this track is the chant "1-2-3-4, close the door hit the floor!" where you can finally really make out backing vocals by Tony of the Riffs, who joined the band when they moved from Denver to Portland, power-pop capital of America.

"Another Cigarette Ends" is an almost-there ballad that has good lyrics and builds to a pretty good climax, and has a really nice talking breakdown in the middle. I think it fits in and works with the album, but as anybody'll tell ya, I prefer the fast stuff. Conversely, the next song, "Too Pretty," has an extended slow building intro which I love, primarily on a very glam sounding keyboard and vocals, painting a picture of a rock and roll kid falling in love at the malt shop with the honey pouring the beverines, having a "real cool time" with her after she gets off work, just like Iggy and the boys, and then it kicks in, explaining the whole sitch as "too pretty" not serious or lasting, but valid, important, and perhaps the shadow imprints itself on yer psyche to make you feel good later, even when you aren't. They ask us to "tell me what's wrong with just a little kiss?" Then a half note pause, a soda can opening and the singer giving a refreshing, "ahh!" Next up is "Six Gun Senorita" in which the Soda Pop Kids venture to the American Southwest to tell the story of this Femme Fatale... this is a pretty good number with flamenco feigns and staccato guitar hammering, but right now I am pretty turned off of all that Mexican shit. I love Mexican culture in general, and I love my Hispanic buddies, but that music is pure Lawrence Welk. For instance, my band recently played with this touring band called Polka Madre outta New Mexico, and the first number they played gave me high hopes, almost like a speed soul number. The band had full Mexican keyboards, clarinet and drums. The clarinet dude, who straight smelled like a fine crock pot fulla chili, in the first number, played his wind instrument like it was brass, blowing sax riffs over the speeding dynamic number. The drummer was the highlight throughout, playing matchstick and killing it, his Mexican Man-Boobs bouncing nicely. The guitarist and bassist were Spanish speaking Angloids. Anyway, after this first number, the band preceded to play nearly an hour of horrible, boring bar-mitzvah reject numbers. Clarinets suck. What's worse they kept threatening to leave if we (the audience) didn't dance, but even when we didn't dance they kept playing. Certain dorks in the scene (yes, there are dorks in Wilmington too) even chanted for an encore of this trash, extending the torture.

Oh, the story doesn't end there! The show was at the 700 Club, ran by the venerable Mr. Tom von Count, a true dude in anyone's eyes, and if you say different, come say it to me and we'll see what happens. After the show was over the Polka Madres were crashing at the Club, which in their eyes meant locking themselves in the only bathroom for over an hour of blowing coke and having gay butt sex. Well, people need to use the bathroom, and these freaks refused to open the door, so Tommy kicked it in to find the cocaine laden misanthropes sodomizin' all over the place. He chased 'em all out with his baseball bat, but needn't land any blows, unfortunately. I don't need to tell you that it had nothin' to do with the fact that it was two dudes, it had to do with the fact that it was two delusional, self-absorbed, inconsiderate dudes. Wilmington and the 700 Club don't give a fuck who has sex with who. Ironically, I had just read the Lester Bangs article entitled, "The Incredibly Strange Creatures Who Stopped Living and Became Mixed-Up Zombies" in which he tacitly advises the reader to always be wary of Gypsies and their ways, because they deal in trickery, but you can't trick a Louisville Slugger, or a fine aluminum Easton. While being chased out, these people had the gall to inform Tom that he is too conservative and shouldn't have shows. Fucking coke-head logic. Cocaine is one of the tools of the White Man used to keep us down, and you do it yerself, great job Phil Collins... you are conservative, Tom is forward thinking and pragmatic. P.S. - being a fag these days has nothing to do with sexual orientation, but they are fags.

Ahh, just what I need after that, next comes the beautiful rock-a-billy cover of the String Kings' "Don't Roll Them Bloodshot Eyes at Me." You probably remember this one, about the trials and tribulations of dating a fucking drunk-ass bitch who also dates dudes who smack her around, and having absolutely no sympathy... terrific! Punknews.dork guy dissed out the sax player pretty hard, but fuck him! Any band that has piano and sax and tries that hard... it's actually against the grain. Rock and roll is not the forbidden music of the fifties, with parents disallowing it... it's forbidden to be that cool, people just spouting negative opinions about derivation and reproduction and people for some reason listen and it becomes a dogma. Open your eyes and mind and if you still want drop-F tuning and sludge and atonal slurm, then we can't help ya, see ya in hell. Best lines, "Your eyes look like a road map, and I'm scared to smell your breathe. Honey, you better shut those peepers, or your gonna bleed to death!"

The penultimate number is called "The Ballad of Ranch Hand Riviera," but don't worry, there is nary a flamenco beat anywhere... by the way, if your thinking flamenco, go Mambo, you'll thank me ("Private World"!) This number has a cowboy feel, and every good band should have a cowboy song, but this one just pales in comparison to the Potatomen, "Jimmy Was a Cowboy" which tells a clearer and better story about a cowboy who transported coke into America for the love of his Sweet Precious Jane, only to get busted by federalies and lose Jane to a drug-lord. See? That's what happens!

OKAY! Finally, the coup de gras of the record, the band, the year, maybe the decade. The final number is called "The Soda Pop Sting" and hits more real life ins and outs than any other song on the record, even "Terrestrial Twist." This song is about kids' whose schools have outlawed selling soda pop in the hallways and cafetoriums, and it works as a really good analogy for rock and roll. Imagine getting into school and the only thing that'll save your life is sweet, carbonated, caffeinated PEPSI FUCKING COLA, but they ain't there no mo' because idiot-asshole parents misidentified their fat-ass kid's obesity and poor health as the fault of scape goat soda drinking, and not the government's subsidizing of corn farmers to produce more and more and more corn and high-fructose corn syrup and their own lax parenting abilities. (Mexican music is trash, but their soda is PURE CANE!) "Well you can't take away my right to chose! When pleasures in jail you got nothing to lose." We are rock and roll, soda pop desperados! "GIMMEE GIMMEE BACK, ALL MY SODA BACK! GIMMEE GIMMEE BACK, OR WE'LL TAKE IT BACK!" The song is uber pop-punk with several different parts, all which rock, a real pop-epic, complete with mini-piano, and ends with the same high-pitched choir telling us that it's a "Soda Pop Sting," sounding like a mix of Screeching Weasel and Plow United, the Kids have at this point achieved being completely serious without taking themselves seriously.

What this song is really about... This is it: being misidentified and underestimated, that's what happens to us. Rock and roll is weirdly dangerous today. Not bad enough to throw you in jail, but they WILL give you a ticket, and you don't have the money to pay it. Even I'm not wide-eyed in the face of it... maybe I've seen too much behind the scenes action. I make my own rock and roll, of course, and am very proud of it and understand what I have done, but it's like the cheese sandwich you make yourself. It may be the best fucking cheese sandwich that's been made since 1998, or 1976, or 1952, but it just isn't the same as the one from the school lunch line. I'm a rock and roll fan. I want the Ramones, I want Plow United, I want something new...

The album (released on Full Breach Kicks Records, by the way) cover is line-less pastel and neon overlap of the boys posing at the soda counter with digitally added bubblegum bubbles and their dumb haircuts. The band name is in script and the album title in the fashion of a teenage girl mag like Tiger Beat. It is pretty and somewhat engaging, but I need some kind of edge, ya know? Well, I don't need the Soda Pop Kids to look as cool as me. They've already done enough. They are sentimental and smart and seem to be getting better all the time. I mean, c'mon, they're a punk rock band, just listen to 'em!! The songs are all very original, but come from a very good place... the only good place? Where the kids are gonna stay all hopped up, where we're very bad, but innocent, where you can come out the other side of a personality crisis better for it. My sympathies to those who have never been there.