Coachwhips
Double Death

The images closest to the truth are contained within the double cd-dvd of the Coachwhips (or Roachlips as they like to call themselves): a 120-kilo lady with a heart tattooed on a saggy breast, smoking a joint on a broken couch leaning against a peeling wall while Dwyer, totally out of it with a beer in hand and legs crossed, watches her with closed eyes.

A drunk guy during the performance (?!) of a cover song (maybe Adam & the Ants, maybe the Sonics) grabs Dwyer's microphone and starts singing (?!); the drummer (from the Hospitals, practically a band of school kids) stops playing and throws a punch that misses. This leads to a Greco-Roman wrestling match while Dwyer, balancing on the bass drum (?!), continues to play with a mocking grin. It seems all over but it's not. The man stops playing and suddenly smashes (it's all real) the guitar over the microphone guy's head and hits him with unheard-of violence six or seven times in the face, nose, and eyes until he knocks him down. Then he laughs, unplugs the amplifiers. Thanks, Good nite!

Inevitably close to these blurred images is the conclusion we must draw, to comfort our initial suspicion: the dvd of "Double Death" contains the dirtiest images of current punx.
Thus the concerts in the dampest and pissiest basements go by quickly ("Mr Hide", "Prisoners 119", "He - C - She" borrowed from the demolisher friend Trin Tran), the guitar planted (it's all real) inside amp cones taken from the junk ("Fight with my love"), the full face punches, unbearable volume, and the usual endless death grater ("Hey Fanny"- practically a gener[n]ational anthem, "Brains Out" - wouldn't you know?-).
Yet another testimony (as if it were needed) that this band has won for attitude, for restlessness, for musical ineptitude, for loneliness.

In a single dvd all the best shots of a party that wasn't exactly supposed to end like this ("Mid Tempo Violent Dancer", "Hands On Control") and yet now it's over and all that’s left to do is gather the glass, dry the sick, sweep between joint butts and bodies exhausted from moshing.

Good work dominators.