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Rating:
Being one of the most regarded and, why not, famous groups of the international punk scene, I would have expected several reviews on the album in question, and instead, to my surprise, only one appears on the site; I'm talking about NOFX.
This "Punk In Drublic," an anagram of "Drunk in public," is certainly what brought the band of Fat Mike and company to international success. The Californian band is a master at mixing fast tracks with ska digressions, developed especially with the help of the trumpet played by El Hefe (although not always well).
Musically speaking, this work comes two years after the last full-length "White Trash Two Heebs And A Bean"; essentially, the style remains the same, but the sonic digressions change. Indeed, if in the previous work the "collateral" sounds were mainly represented by jazz and swing, here ska and reggae return.
The lyrics, as always, concern political and social themes often treated with irony and revelry. "Don't call me white" stands out for sure, where the frontman invites not to judge people by their skin color and not to have racial prejudices. The songs, 17 in total, remain at acceptable levels, even if there are several lapses in style. But let's go into detail.
The start is launched and fast with " Linoleum," while the following "Leave it alone," superior to the first, adds a bit of melody to the lyrics; the same structure is found in "The cause," one of the best on the album. "Dig" is a punk track with pronounced ska elements complete with El Hefe's trumpet, reminiscent of " Bob," a track from the previous album. Let's skip "Don't call me white," as it is surely the band's most famous track that everyone knows, which I don't particularly like, however, and arrive at the unusual reggae-tinged "My heart is yearning" sung in a lyrical tone by Michele Grasso.
The combo returns aggressive and hits hard in "Perfect government," a cover of Mark Curry, complete with a solo, and what I consider one of the most beautiful of their career "Dying degree." A highly underrated track, very fast-paced, made sharp by precise and clear guitar riffs, and complemented by a splendid solo. I would like to see NOFX more often on this same wavelength. In the middle, there's the negligible "The quass," an instrumental piece, and the song full of Oi! tones and choruses "The brews." In the second part, however, strangely enough, all the weak tracks are placed, starting from the anonymous "Fleas" to the concluding acoustic song played with only guitars and vocals by the frontman, which adds nothing, "Scavenger type."
The most important thing, which I believe no one has particularly highlighted, is often the total absence of choruses in many songs, an aspect that may be intriguing on one hand but is certainly a weak point of the band's compositions in the long run, listening to the final tracks, for instance. To be clear, the sound of the band, apart from the early albums that showcased a more aggressive and hard sound, has always stood out for its nonchalance and melody, a factor that makes many people turn up their noses. But keep in mind that NOFX, despite their easy proposal, do not indulge in purely commercial sounds.
An album that is still good, with great hits alternating with very negligible tracks and at times filler content. Not the best punk album of the '90s as some claim, but certainly one of the best works in their long discography.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Linoleum (02:10)
possessions never meant anything to me
i'm not crazy ('cause i've got none)
we'll that's not true, i've got a bed and a guitar
and a dog named dog who pisses on my floor
that's right, i've got a floor
so what, so what, so what?
I've got pockets full of kleenex and lint and holes
where everything important to me
just seems to fall right down my leg
and on to the floor
my closest friend, linoleum
linoleum
supports my head, gives me something to believe
that's me on the beachside combing the sand
metal meter in my hand
sporting a pocket full change
that's me on the street with a violin under my chin
playing with a grin, singing gibberish
that's me on the back of the bus
that's me in the cell
that's me inside your head
that's me inside your head
03 Dig (02:16)
rationalize values it's so easy to succeed
keeping your eyes on the prize excess
camped outside laissez fair
people understand me there
don't talk to me we'll get along just fine
blowin' out your mores
henry ford tradition preys on
idle minds left the emergency brake on too long
underneath the city lies the ruins of mankind
the excavation was a financial success
with artifacts of gold
the arrowheads went straight to the Smithsonian
the rest was melted down and sold
substantial gains
minimal losses are tolerable
as long as the machine keeps running fine
cannibals
functioning on pheromones
rational thought lost to instinctual
04 The Cause (01:37)
it isn't for the money,
no it isn't for the fun
it's a plan, a scam, a diagram
it's for the benefit of everyone
you gotta have a little respect
subterranean ideals
traditional neglect
reflect on how you think it would make you feel
the cause - we're just doing it for the cause
no it isn't for the fortune, it isn't for the fame
it's a scheme, a dream, a barterine
we want everyone to think the same
because you know what you feel is right
and you feel what you can't ignore
and you try so hard to point the blame
ashamed - what do we do this for?
The cause - we're just doing it for the cause
The cause - we're just doing it for the cause
The cause - we're just doing it for the cause
The cause - we're just doing it for the cause
08 The Brews (02:40)
Friday night we'll be drinkin Maneshevitz
Goin out to terrorize goyim
Stompin shagitz, screwin shicksas
As long as we're home by Saturday mornin
Cause hey we're the brews
Sportin anti swastika tattoos
Oi Oi we're the boys
Orthodox, hasidic, OG Ois
Orthopedic Dr Martens good for
Waffle making, kickin through the shin
Reputation, gained through intimidation
Pacifism no longer tradition
Cause hey
We're the brews
Sportin anti swastika tattoos
Oi Oi we're the brews
The fairfax ghetto boys skinhead hebrews
We got the might, psycho meshuganas
We can't lose a fight,
As we are the chosen ones
Chutzpah driven, we battle then we feast
We celebrate, we'll separate our milkplates
From our meat
Oi Oi hey we're the brews
sportin anti swastika tattoos
Oi Oi we're the boys
Orthodox, hasidic, OG Ois
C'mon you schmucks
One more time for Hershel!
11 Fleas (01:48)
my father used to say
you sleep with dogs the next day
you'll wake in the bed scratching
those inevitable fleas
at ten years old
you listen to what you're told
but I never felt the itch
I never would
my mother had forbidden me
to waste away my life
I want you to have all the things
I could never buy you
so don't stop what i'd begun
you're my one my only son
follow what I say not what i've done
follow what I say not what i've done
shower, scrub, and shave
cleanly boys don't misbehave
follow what I say, not what i've done
12 Lori Meyers (02:21)
lori meyers used to live upstairs
our parents had been friends for years
almost every afternoon we'd play forbidden games
at nine years old there's no such thing as shame
it wasn't recognition of her face, what
brought me back was a familiar mark
as it flashed across the screen. I
bought some magazines, some video taped scenes
incriminating act I felt that I could save her
who are you to tell me how to live my life?
You think I sell my body, I merely sell my time
I ain't no Cinderella, I ain't waiting for no prince
to save me in fact until just now I was doin' just fine
and on and on
I know what degradation feels like
I felt it on the floor at the factory
where I worked long before, I took control
now I answer to me
the 50k I make this year will go anywhere I please
where's the problem?
13 Jeff Wears Birkenstocks (01:26)
Don't wanna chill, don't wanna sit
Don't wanna hear no hippie shit
Don't tell me I'm closing my mind
Don't wanna grove, don't wanna dig
Don't wanna spend the day naked
Don't like my music country fried
He's got a tye dyed Rancid shirt
Wears his birkenstocks to work
Is he a jerk? No, just confused
Jeff don't wear regular shoes
Fat Mike I gotta let you know
It's not the tunes, it's their live show
And all the people you get to meet
Plenty of good vibes and decent drugs
Stinky people give you hugs
Walk around in your bare feet
He's got a tye dyed Rancid shirt
Wears his birkenstocks to work
Is he a jerk? No, just confused
Jeff don't wear regular shoes
Jeff don't wear regular shoes
14 Punk Guy (01:08)
Crazier than GG,
More PC than Ian.
Got colored teeth like Johnny,
Exludes a vicious disposition.
His hair sticks out like Colin's did, he jumps,
Similar to Springa, he points his middle finga.
Not just he singer in the band.
Voted biggest asshole, and role model of the year.
Got a face like Charles Bronson,
Straight outta Green Bay Wisconsin,
Not just a singer in the band.
He'll puke on you, he'll fuck your mom,
He'll smoke while huffing gas.
He was the punkest mother fucker I ever did see.
'Ah Hell he's even more punk than me.'
He should've been on the cover,
He should've been on the cover,
He should've been on the cover of Punk and Disorderly (Volume II)
[References In This Song]
[Crazier than GG: GG Allin was in the Jabbers, the Scumfucs, Antiseen and the Murder Junkies. He died on June 28, 1993 of a heroin overdose at the age of thirty-six]
[More PC than Ian: Ian MacKaye was supposed to have started the whole sXe thing]
[Got colored teeth like Johhny: Johnny Rotten from the Sex Pistols]
[Exudes a VICIOUS disposition: Sid Vicious from the Sex Pistols]
[His hair sticks out like Colins did: Colins from Dag Nasty, he had big hair]
[He jumps similair to Springa: The guy from SSD]
16 Reeko (03:05)
reeko, try to understand, it really is that bad
it won't just go away, the party's over
it's past two o'clock, so it's about time we
stopped, 'cause I
see the keg has been sucked dry
the cisco was emptied into the aquarium
where the fish all seem to play the ex lax lines
the dog bowl
the toilet's overflowed, we're had our fun so
now there's nothing left to damage
we got no place left to go
mr. President please understand, it really is that bad
it won't just go away, it's just beginning
the ballots have been cast, we make like seaward rats
leave this sinking ship, leave and not look back
the things we never tried to disallow
have come back to haunt us now
with apple pie and Chevrolet
we've come to see the end, we all made this bed
now we got nowhere to lay,
dies and gentlemen
try to understand
17 Scavenger Type (07:12)
gigin alone at the bottom of the hill
our protagonist named bill
sets his sights on an anchor steam pint
all he needs is thirteen quarters
congregated in his hat
a crow, a scavenger type
California redemption provides him with his rent
room and board inside of a fifth of comfort
as the wind penetrates his bones
his mind keeps focused
tidal waves of sound catapulted
from his horn wail like lovers
the coins don't drop consistent as does the mercury
his meter slows realizing a zenith
he's reached perfection
no one did see him die
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Other reviews
By Gianluca_90
Each track on this album is a small masterpiece, a manifesto of us young people who are fed up, angry, homeless, bored, and indifferent.
'Don't Call Me White' is devastating both musically and lyrically.
