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Rating: "They are killing us, they are killing us mercilessly".
Agreed, this is not the first line of the album, nor perhaps the most important, the most poetic, the most evocative. But it is the damned truth. The truth that appears to the eyes of Joby J. Ford and company, all more or less active in the punk rock scene of Los Angeles, which allows them to have the right friendships, including Gilby Clarke, former guitarist of Guns'N Roses, producer of the striking debut album "The Bronx," preceded by the equally beautiful EP "La muerte viva."
The violent reality of the City of Angels bursts forth from the tracks of this album, and the band spits and sweats it out in a wild and intense manner, as befits bands that choose to express their emotions using rock, a wild music by definition. There is hardcore, post-hardcore, rock, punk, and whatever else you want in this album, but that's not the point. The point is that this is an absolutely sincere, emotional, and thrilling album, incredibly powerful, intense, full of tracks to memorize, the kind you can't wait to see live to sing back at the band's face. And if the band is The Bronx, trust me, you’ll find yourself drenched in sweat and absolutely satisfied at the end of their (beautiful) live set.
It's also a heavy album, dense, viscous, like the blood flowing from the mouth of a female vampire forming the band's name on the cover. "THE BRONX." The dangerous neighborhood par excellence, the neighborhood of tough guys, criminals, immigrants, drug dealers, living day by day, basketball games of black people, and Italian-American pizzerias hiding mafia hideouts, the neighborhood of the lost, those looking for revenge, the ugly part of New York, East Coast. Narrated by more or less famous writers and directors. But they (The Bronx) have nothing to do with New York, they're from Los Angeles, West Coast. Where people tan, surf, have pool parties, with the rich of Hollywood, and the rich working for Hollywood. But also Mexican immigrants, immigrants from all the unfortunate places in the United States, all the losers who came seeking fortune in the cinema mecca and ended up doing a job they hate and living a life they didn’t want. Here, The Bronx perhaps stands on this side, but maybe not even that. They are in the midst of this, they revel in it and meanwhile tell us what it means to live all this. Losing faith in something someone had told them was beautiful to believe in. Losing faith in the system, in the unfolding and mere occurrence of things. In accepting passively the things that happen around, things much bigger than us, which perhaps it's better to let be, let them crush us.
Or maybe not. “What's left of California? What's left of Los Angeles?” they ask, in the song from which I also extracted the first phrase of this rambling review, “What's left of my broken heart?” After all, perhaps they still want to contribute in some way, at least by providing their point of view, anything but trivial and obvious. I honestly don't know where I'm going with this, but if you approach this album, I strongly recommend you to read the lyrics, really beautiful, a perfect mix of anger and desperation, sung in melodic choruses, making them little gems of hope, drowned and buried somewhere, under layers of rancor. Anyway, I do not possess the intellectual means to describe the sensations that this album provokes (in me), I simply recommend listening to it and giving it the utmost attention possible, and maybe do a little research on the web to understand the environment this band comes from and the one they move around in.
Spending a few words on the purely musical side of the album, what can I say, certainly a beautiful album, powerful, with melodic parts, more "hard" parts, and fast parts. No references to particular bands, just a good mix of many different influences. Just as a note of color, I tell you they love, among others, the Hard-Ons, an Australian power pop-punk band around for more than twenty years, never really noticed on large levels, but absolutely one of the best punk rock bands ever.
The start of "The Bronx" is one of the best with Heart-Attack American, which I consider one of the most beautiful intros heard in recent times in "hard" rock (p.s: maybe only second to the intro of their second album... Senor Hombres de Tamale+Little Stone... breathtaking stuff) then above all They Will Kill Us, I Got Chills, Notice of Eviction(!) and Kill My Friends. And already the titles should be quite eloquent about what kind of themes we're dealing with!
Almost psychedelic-stoner finale with Strobo Life (which I assure you live is annihilating(!?)) and upon reaching the end, it's inevitable to press play again. And maybe get "The Bronx II," which I do not venture to review for obvious reasons of incapacity.
"I'm done doing things I don't want to do
And I'm sick and tired of setting up to be like you
Fucked up thrown out and overdue
I'm fucking done.
There is no revolution "
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Heart Attack American (02:51)
YEAH!!!!!!!
i'm done telling you that i'm in love
what i have will never be enough
come on baby go live life on your own
everything inside is breaking down
and you don't want to be hanging around
i don't think i want to leave myself alone
i'm done having to apologize
i'm done living inside your eyes
when the lights go out whats left to know
nothing ever makes sense to me
a broken branch of the family tree
kill the lights now baby watch me explode
there is no revolution
and i'm done doing things i don't want to do
there is no revolution
i'm done living in this decline
i'm done watching you redesign
come on baby let's go walk out the door
i'm done showing up to fucking work taking orders from a fucking bitch
i'm in the chair now go ahead and flip the switch
YEAH!!!
i'm done doing things i don't want to do
and i'm sick and tired of setting up to be like you
fucked up thrown out and overdue
im fucking done
there is no revolution
02 False Alarm (02:11)
i don't think i'm alive dead footsteps another outcast screaming alone god help me give me what you want give me what you need i'll take it all stand fall lost out baby yes i know it's not a secret a false alarm another front page lie disguished to help me burn another year of research stand still turn on the lights baby show me your scars salvation give me audio give me visual overload so slow lost out baby yes i know everyone is suspect everyone deserts sometimes another loss i'm feeling alone it's not a secret a false alarm it's not a secret it's not a sad song another front page lie disguished to help me burn god help us false alarm
03 White Tar (02:57)
baby's got cancer looking for the answer she's got cancer someone romance her she was one of a kind now she's perfected living on all the lies they injected now she's staring at the scars that needed correction it's not a habit she claims she's got american eyes letting her body go she's dead rejection looking for direction gimme picture gimme reception the clean smell of sin she's nervous at the hips the car's outside and i'm ready to go infected living on all the lies she injected now i'm infected staring at the scars in need of correction it's not a habit i claim i got american eyes letting my body go i'm dead i don't want to wake up i spend a lifetime staring at the telephone cause all i want to do is call you up we got cancer looking for the answer
04 Cobra Lucha (02:47)
say enough words to make me forget until i get dangerous and desperate i love it when i'm telling myself lies the good ones that i know i can cash stare at my face until i neglect everything i couldn't forgive look at the way you make me live choking like a fucking kid i rejected faith, i broke a good heart i regret love because you told me i still don't care i wasn't meant to cover up scars built on faults to who it concerns consider this i tried all your cures but i'm still sick i'm never going to regain senses burn another hole in my head remember the disease you spread like addiction that comes in fits talk enough words to make me forget all my dreams are dead disguise lack of progress quit sending me signals for chemicals everything i crave is going to kill me don't want to be sick depression just seems to stick
05 They Will Kill Us All (Without Mercy) (03:49)
what's left of california?
what's left of los angeles?
sidewalks cry cause they're not as high
shooting old dope
rich kid skies are a good disguise
lining our veins with hope
what did you get for free?
and where you gonna sell it?
why should i give a shit?
cover up your facelift
what's left of my broken heart?
what's left of los angeles?
we got a new design
excess redefined so you can dream it
we rewrote the standards
covered up the old scars so you believe it
scrape black tar from a guilty lung
throw a needle in your arm
cough up wrongs of the city stars
they didn't mean no harm
what were you supposed to be?
and what did you turn into?
we don't even need you here
but where you gonna run to?
good drugs
bad streets
arms tied
my world
capsized
with style
we got a new design
excess redefined so you can dream it
we rewrote the standards
covered up the old scars so you believe it
[i got some bad drugs, just leave me alone]
i got a new plan
get me outta here
I pretend sincere
stumble on words
desperation
the warmth of a gun
last hundred years
remember twenty four
06 I Got Chills (02:19)
all this time i've been unclean watching you cause you're watching me shotgun knives into my heart without a reason all i want to do is die fuck the beats of a different heart what i'll do if you never tell bleed me an answer from i got chills break it down and build again sit still line me up so i can burn my heart knows you won't return make some sense of being alone cause i'm wasted blackout rescue from my faults take away my sober stare payphone prayer give me what i want give me an answer trying to stare through you can't get past your eyes locked from the inside let me inject trying to stare through you can't get past your eyes sweating through the nights again i'd rather have good pills i got chills
08 Notice of Eviction (02:16)
days you always want to tell me lies you try to sell me to the stars at night you think i'm too uptight love you call me on the phone alone you wish that i could stay speaking pain in codes telling me you still care through a dial tone drugs you really want to put my life on hold you really want to see my growing old with you like a naive friend but i never want to face myself again unless i'm coming true speaking pain in codes telling you that i know i'm no good alone i've tried so hard just to be myself but i've erased everything i was i tried searching for the truth alone and i remember everything i've done i'm thinking everything will turn out fine but i'm a little kid without a soul give me just a little bit more time just a little bit say what you want to do to me or you i don't care right i erased everything i know give me just a little bit more time to solve my future
10 Strobe Life (04:26)
quiet like an elevator even the walls are scared i'm dependent on a generator just to breath in air medication medication signatures and stares watching all the lights come down never wanting to care these circles seem so strange i run around and around but nothing's changed medication medication signatures and stares i'm reinventing brand new lives like they were never there i never want to run out get more can't stand waiting i never want to run out don't stop the lines from fading it's time to wake up i've been asleep for far too long it's time to wake up before the pain i feel is gone i never want to run out
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