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And so it was that in the now distant 1985, these blessed NOFX recorded this charming self-titled EP in Hollywood on Mystic Records, featuring a skull with bony hands on its head and a syringe-style pear between its teeth; only 100 copies of this artifact were printed, and according to Mike and company, it took six months to sell them all.
An inception so dismal certainly couldn't have predicted what fate had in store: after just a few years and a few albums, the four lads from San Francisco had already become one of the leading groups on Epitaph, and whether by chance or not, their right moment (1994) and the right album ("Punk in Drublic") arrived to breakthrough on a global scale after an almost decade-long grind, and barged into history, forming part of that nucleus of damn phenomena that even if you hate them too much, there's nothing you can do, you have to accept it, because at concerts with at least 200 people, at least 10 are wearing their shirts, 50% of your schoolmates have their patch on their backpacks, and there's always one of their songs on the infamous handmade mixed CDs.
Many are the detractors of this group, and I understand them, because it's not true that NOFX are 100% credible and indeed like all punk rock bands, they are profoundly contradictory, starting with their obese mind, the frontman Michele Grasso, who acts all punk but has dollars stashed away with his beautiful 3 (!!!) record labels, declaring that NOFX would never leave Epitaph to record on their own with Fat, but then they did, and more and more; then there are those who hate their sound, calling it childish, commercial, or saying it's always too similar to itself, despite a thousand bands around the world copying it continuously and even making money out of it.
In short, our four merry men with weight issues are either loved or hated. I love them, to madness, and if you ask my opinion, until the monumental, colossal, awesome masterpiece "The Decline" (1999), they have never missed a beat, producing albums, each different from the next, increasingly emotive, intense, each with its typical ORIGINAL sound, a term not exactly in vogue in the foul-smelling world of punk rock.
Sometimes they would whip up albums in 15 days with spontaneous tracks "as they come" and create masterful artworks ("Punk in Drublic"), sometimes they would compose with care, taking their time, and produce equally masterful artworks ("The Decline", "So Long and Thanks for All the Shoes"). But it is known that bands age and soon enough everyone reaches the point where they should stop playing because continuing only means recreating a worse self-parody.
In my opinion, from "Pump Up the Valuum" (2000) onwards, NOFX has consistently declined, releasing two more original albums that a fan aware of what this group once was cannot really appreciate. "The War on Errorism" and especially this last one are two nice, well-produced albums, with charming pieces, but from NOFX, I expect much more, I expect a revolution with every album. However, our friends no longer have the imagination and produce these uniform pieces, all with a sound that is a failed caricature of "So Long...", lacking sharpness, which any NOFX-clone band could write.
For this last one, they didn't even bother to write new songs, and indeed 6 out of the 18 tracks come straight from the monthly Fat Club 7"s, which were already a scam by themselves, therefore scam upon scam. The tracks flow one after the other and are nice but nothing more: there's "60%" which serves as both intro and outro and resembles the old "Theme from a NOFX Album", there are all these HCM little pieces that aren't anything special, even the title track that bets on a speed burst and double pedal just doesn't convince, it feels familiar; "Instant Crassic" is ugly and useless, "One Celled Creature" is a mushy, dark slow one that must have accidentally fallen into the CD.
In "The Man I Killed" they mimic the so-called "folk-punk" with the overused country loop that then speeds up; "USA-Holes" seems to be from the previous album, with the anti-Bush lyrics and riff similar to those circulating on that record; "Doornails" is the track dedicated to recently deceased members of the California scene, and the idea is wholly justified, but such a noble cause required a much better means than this banal acoustic pop ballad; in "Cantando en Español" with El Hefe on vocals, perhaps they aim to replicate the non-reproducible spontaneity of "My Heart is Yearning", failing, so you check out "The Marxist Brothers" and it feels like "Medio-core"; the lyrics maintain a good level without ever reaching that of the old lyrics: maybe the finest one is about alcoholism in "Seeing Double at the Triple Rock", likely the best track of the CD along with some others from the scam EPs, like "Cool and Unusual Punishment" (a little pop song about Japanese BDSM clubs) or "Benny Got Blowed Up" (a quick and clueless piece about a guy blowing himself up).
One last word about the artwork and the new logo, absolutely horrid and squalid, in the CD booklet there are only the lyrics in black on yellow, no writing from Fat Mike, no photos, it's all a disgrace compared to the old stuff. In short, in my opinion, with all the esteem and respect due and with all the affection I have for them, NOFX has not much left to say, and they would do better to disband, even to avoid embarrassing the older fans accustomed to far better stories. Stop.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
04 We March to the Beat of Indifferent Drum (02:38)
With our ass in the air and our heads in the ground
There's no sense of despair, without sight, without sound
We hold our ears and shut our eyes
Distant screams morph into lullabies
We beat indifferent drum, we pound it till we're numb
We validate, rationalize, corroborate each others lives
Pat my back and I'll pat yours, benevolent conquistadors
We piss down throats, shit in cupped hands
Wipe our asses with all foreign flags
We beat indifferent drum, we pound it till we're numb
20 feet high, 2 feet thick, barbed wire, razor blades
The wall was built to keep them out while keeping us in goose step parades
We don't questions what we've become
We march to the beat of the same indifferent drum
We beat it till we're numb, we beat it till we're numb
07 Benny Got Blowed Up (01:05)
Tired of shootin' smack, tired of on the run, traded the needle... for the gun
Tired of livin' small, tired of the withdrawal, no more retreat time for attack
Oh Benny how many times you tried to kill yourself,
OD's and robberies and super stunts, I never thought you'd die from them
Riding around in tanks, fire a round of blanks, Benny had never had such fun
Until he took a wrong step into bomb, and that's when Benny got blowed up
Alone, under a blanket soaked with sweat and piss,
We figured Benny would end up like this
We just didn't think for them
09 Getting High on the Down Low (01:13)
I'm on the wagon now
But she doesn't know
I'm getting high on the down low
Cuz when I got the new thing
I got no place to go
Unless I got a bottle in me
I'm in a Cadillac
I'm starting to stare
Who's the guy with the blood in his hair
The last thing I remember
I was going somewhere
And then the stop sign got in the way
[cough]
I'm laying low in a hospital bed
I got a dent, and a crack in the head
That's okay cuz i've got no idea what I just said
Gotta love the hospital meds
I'm getting high on the D.L.
10 Cool and Unusual Punishment (02:05)
Absolute shibari, cold noodles and hot sake
The mistress bar in Roppongi is the place
For Japanese hardcore, not the kind you're gonna find at the record store
Not the kind designed for the kind hearted
Do not pass go, do not get bail
Go directly to Osaka Jail
Where you get locked or drunk under the table
For just under 10,000 yen
You can visit hell and come back again
For the process of hurting and healing
Cake and candle wax dessert
It’s not fun ‘til someone gets hurt
Who’s the next to get hung from the ceiling
So if you want rewards and consequence
They got the cool and unusual punishments
Get on your knees for Japanese instruction
Rope and Cigarette burns, forget about any health concerns
This is pure assisted self-destruction
Kanpai and bottoms up, unhelping hands hogtie you up
One bad deed surely deserves another
Bruised from bamboo caning
Coming home try explaining this to your significant other
Good fucking luck
11 Wolves in Wolves' Clothing (01:57)
We're Rome, Aztec Mexico, Easter Island paradigm
We are followers of Jimmy Jones, cutting in the kool-aid line
We are Animal Farm Pigs, we are a Terry Gilliam film
We are fear Oligarchy, we are wolves in wolves' clothing, we are this planet's kidney stones
In the process of getting passed, metamorphosis from first to last
A system breaking down beyond repair
A product of three million millionaires and 100 million easy marks
We are Marie Antoinette, we are Joseph McCarthy
We've finally become the divided states
A nation built on freedoms, fears, and hates, the denotation of Irony
We all want a Hollywood end, but we're getting a foreign one
The script has already been penned, and titled, "the epitaph of a drowning nation"
12 Cantando en Español (01:26)
Despues de 235
canciones, los liricos se valuan mas
y no tengo ningunos para esta
El Hefe canta melodia triste
o canta amor de la corazon
haz como que hable español
Ojala que la mayoria
de nuestros aficionados
no entiendan nada que canto
para los otros: chinga su madre, guey
13 100 Times Fuckeder (01:57)
fighting with gloves
now we're the ones a hundred times f**keder
hitting above the belt
now we're the ones a hundred times f**keder
citing the facts
now we're the ones a hundred times f**keder
exposing all the lies
now we're the ones a hundred times f**keder
we get what we f**king deserve
bringing raised fists to a knife fight
you'd think developed minds could learn
not to give benefit of doubt
you wouldn't trust a hungry animal
around your newborn, would you?
sharing the wealth
now we're the ones a hundred times f**keder
taking the high road
now we're the ones a hundred times f**keder
showing respect
now we're the ones a hundred times f**keder
giving a shit
now we're the ones a hundred times f**keder
did anyone really expect
to win a race already fixed
the spoils doled out in advance
the appointed already picked
all allegations of fraud
categorically dismissed as absurd
14 Instant Crassic (00:34)
I'm swimming in a sea of pee
I'm hiking up a big mountain of poo
I feel like rolling in glass when I'm without you
I'm diving in a bowl of puke
I'm fly fishing a stream of puss
That's how I feel when something separates us
I'm living in Bakersfield
I'm at a month long hip-hop festival
15 You Will Lose Faith (02:31)
Your only daughter's turning tricks cause she's jonesin' for a fix
She just blew your mechanic, that's when you will lose your wife's
Overdose was a success, humiliation was too great
Now with your estate foreclosed, you will surely lose your head
Was in a bad place when you punched your supervisor in the throat
An inadvertent fatal blow, were the words your lawyer used
On the unsympathetic judge, who was having a bad day
So he threw your life away, is faith still comforting you?
I know the answer, still I ask, where is your god now?
You thought it was the Christian thing to do, breaking up that fight at school
'Til the gun came into play, and the sight was set on you
Running was ironic cause it was the last time you would
You wish the kids you tried to help wouldn't laugh when he saw you
Are the invisible man, no one looks you in the eye
You've become an anecdote, the wrong place at the wrong time
The worst case scenario, the proverbial "that guy"
You never did question your faith; you flushed it with your first piss bag
That's why I have to ask, where is your god now?
17 Doornails (02:14)
These two shots are for Derrick
For Rifle, not the handgun
For Coffee and Cigarettes
Give It Back
You know, suicide isn't painless
When you leave everyone in pain
Two shots will never go down the same
This beating's for Jimmy
For Ultimate Devotion
For your Mind Of My Own
Bring Out Your Dead
Sedated, flagellated
You were the one most loved and hated
Thanks for all that carpet and your songs
This petron's for Jason
This lager's for Andy
And these doses are for Bomber
And this fix is for Bradley
This ritalin's for Lumpy
And this speedball's for Friday
This nitrous hit is for Lynn and best friend Dobbs
This bowl is for my mom
For drinking more than I did
For posting bail for me in New York
And in Hollywood that first time
And that joint we smoked was the worst time
Cause doing drugs with parents is just wrong
This petron's for Jason
This lager's for Andy
And these doses are for Bomber
And this fix is for Bradley
This song is for winning losers
It's for lucky substance abusers
The ones who left their black marks on us all
18 60% (reprise) (01:54)
I'm not here to entertain you
I'm here to meet my friend the Russian
The Irish, the German, the Columbian
I don't care how bad I fuck up
I care about how fucked up I get
I'm not your clown
I'm your dealer
And I'm holding three bindles of bullshit
And you're buyin' them 'cause you are addicted
To the pure and totally uncut
I'm not here to amuse you
I'm here to abuse my body
I'm here because old habits die hard
And seriously, what else am I supposed to do?
This isn't my job, my hobby, my habit
It's sad, but this is my life
Welcome to our mission statement
Total self-debasement
And not giving our all
Watch us Fall!
It's not that we don't pull it
It's just that we only give about 60 or so percent
Would you rather be fed bullshit
From some 20-something, makeup wearing, popstar
"This one goes out to all our fans all over the world
Without you, we'd just be us.
So, I just wanna say thank you!
We fuckin' love you, Modesto!"
Fuck you!
And you're takin' it easy before the show
So you won't lose your voice
And disappoint your fans routine
And you don't care about the children
You don't even know them
All you know is their money
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Other reviews
By Taurus
The weak point of the four Californians, unfortunately accentuated here, is the constant choice to stuff the album with fillers sandwiched between the best songs.
Fat Mike’s humor remains good when dealing with delicate issues like the death penalty in 'The man I killed,' while criticism of the Bush administration is present in 'Usa holes.'
