The Mummies - Food, Sickles And Girls From December 1988 and throughout the first half of the nineties, the Mummies were the guardians of the most uncompromising low-budget garage rock.
A reputation born from disastrous concerts where four stupid kids wrapped up like mummies assaulted California, dominated by Guns N’ Roses, with skin-tearing riffs stolen from Northwest punk bands like Wailers and Sonics, and continued with a (back then) staunch refusal of any type of instrumentation, recording, or digital printing of their battered songs, along with a famous response laced with unimaginable curses in which the band from San Bruno sent back the offer from the most desired record label of the time.
The one that everyone drooled over.
The one that everyone was ready to lose their virginity for.
The one that everyone dreamed of being able to record with.
By deciding to preserve the punk spirit of their music, the Mummies sacrificed themselves at the altar of the most crude and primitive garage of the time. A stubborn and tenacious steadfastness that put even Tim Warren in a corner, who would find himself denied by the band, at ultimate sessions, the permission to release the record recorded with MikeMaz Katt Mariconda (later “honored” by the band with Mariconda’s a Friend of Mine, NdLYS), later illegally printed under the title Fuck The Mummies!. After the first singles released independently, it was Estrus that secured the services of Trent Ruane, Larry Winther, Maz Kattuah, and Russell Quan, the four blindfolded rascals who escaped from the pyramids of the more debauched frat-rock of the early sixties.
Assembled by piecing together the fragments of their first singles (That Girl, Food, Sickles and Girls, The Fabulous Mummies, Shitsville, the split with the Phantom Surfers 1991 NorthWest Budget Rock Massacre!), the Mummies' first album is a short film reel on American Northwest garage rock: Sonics, Wailers (three covers present on the record, all played with a roughness and violence equal to the originals), Kingsmen, Frantics, Galaxies, Viceroys. That’s the latrine where the Mummies enjoy urinating while shaking their birds to the depraved sound of tunes like I'm Bigger Than You or the incredible One by One, one of the most ruined garage songs of the entire decade.
One of the most debased of all time.
:Play Their Own Records! is a dilapidated representation of punk.
Pure garage shit played with the roughness of a gang of hoodlums.
THANK YOU REVEREND
