Blast from the Past #1 - PUKE-O-RAMA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Fast, loud, and retarded."

That's how Jeremy Yoho describes the sound of the band he used to front, Topeka metal-punk misfits, Puke-O-Rama and, looking back, that's probably the most accurate description possible. Raucous, beligerant, and staunchly anti-social, the band formed in the mid-90s as a trio, the brainchild of guitarist/songwriter Seth Coulter who wrote songs about worshipping Satan, rioting against the cops, hating the fire department... All normal teenage stuff. Yoho was brought in later as a vocalist and the band gave several memorable performances in basements and abandoned houses in and around Topeka/Lawrence.

"Everyone in the band but me was really pretty talented," Yoho recalls.

Blurring the lines between metal and punk was the bands calling card. They mixed grindcore and melody, chaos and collision with tight riffs, and lyrically lambasted everything from love to music, even offering dance advice to listeners.

"Don't do the pogo / When you're jumping up and down / If you do the pogo /I'll knock you on the ground," sang Yoho in the appropriately named party classic "Don't Do the Pogo".

Unfortunately, Puke-O-Rama never amounted to much. The band recorded a split demo with fellow Topeka punks Count Zero in 1995 and Yoho left the band soon after. The remaining members continued on as a trio for a bit before disbanding in the late 90s. Yoho joined the army last year.

"I spend 50% of my time sitting on a mountaintop in Egypt," he says. "Sounds mystical - but it really isn't. The air's thin and it gets mighty cold at night. Presently, I'm sitting in my federally sanctioned bedroom a little bit closer to civilization and I just woke up with a wicked hangover. I don't really drink anymore though, at least not much, so I don't know how that happened."

Puke-O-Rama's legacy, however, is undeniable.

"I heard a guitar riff on the new Metallica album that was exactly the same as one that Seth used," Yoho says. "Not kidding. I'd accuse them of ripping us off if I didn't know that there is no way in hell they've ever subjected themselves to our demo."

Brew News - Spring, 2010

There are a few things that all of my drinking buddies know about me. First, I practically had to rush home and change my pants when I noticed that thirty packs of Iron City cans had arrived at my favorite store (Murphy's, 29th and Topeka). The moment I saw them my mouth began to water with visions of hours of lakeside drinking unhindered by clumsily hiding bottles at the sound of a park ranger's truck. I'm not saying IC is the nectar of the gods, but it's a huge step up from the High Life I'm usually forced to drag with me to the lake, or the occasional dusty case of Yuengling I track down if I'm out of town.
Another thing my friends know is this: I ain't no hophead. Never been one. I've tried. Hell, I've even faked it, to no avail. It's just something about my pallette: almost every high IBU concoction I bring to my lips turns out to be a mistake, and the gnarly shape I somehow contort my face into after the first drink is (I'm told as I've never seen it) both comical and terrifying - an otherworldly cross between the Elephant Man and Jim Carey that defies logical explanation and is worthy of National Enquirer consideration. I've always defended myself by saying things like "I don't put flowers on my steak, why would I want them in my beer?", and "I'll take a Heather Ale over an Imperial IPA anyday", which is ludicrous and untrue. To me, hops are the meat of a beer, the part a patron can really sink their teeth into, and an overly hopped brew is like a steak or slab that's been burned beyond recognition, one dimensional and bland.
That said, I still get excited whenever a new huge IPA hits theshelves, and, though reluctantly, I'll usually end up buying it, dragging it home and forcing myself through it in the hopes of being pleasently surprised. I like being pleasently surprised. It's pleasent. And so, predictably, on my last run to the store I nabbed a few singles that looked promising and sat down determined to approach them with an open mind. Here we go...

Ranger India Pale Ale, New Belgium Brewing Compnay, Fort Collins, CO

Honestly, you could see this coming a few years ago when New Belgium released the Mighty Arrow Pale Ale in their sampler 12 pack. It was obvious that they were testing the water for something new and you could tell that a simple pale ale, while good, wasn't their ultimate goal. The funny thing is, I spoke to a very nice representative at New Belgium about the Mighty Arrow at the time of it's initial release and she told me very enthusiastically that it was "The big one, a whopping 35 IBUs!" which, at the time was quite high for NB. After all, I got a little pissed when they drastically raised their prices during the hop shortage a few years ago because Fat Tire and Sunshine Wheat aren't exactlyhyper hopped brews, so what gives? But bygones are bygones and I dropped my ill-advised boycott of NB a while ago and I'm glad I did, otherwise I would have missed out on Ranger.

At 70 IBUs and 6.5% ABV Ranger is pretty ambitious for an American Belgian style brewery, particularly one as high profile as NB. Ommegang has nothing like it. Even Boulevard's Single Wide is only 59 BUs, so Ranger seems like a great leap forward. It's like if Anheuser Busch came out with some sort of slightly hoppy ale or dumped a bunch of lime juice into Bud Light.... Oh, yeah, nevermind.

I fell in love with Ranger pretty quickly after pouring it into my trusty Old Style mug. It's a beautiful looking beer, strongly copper in color and sporting a fluffy pillow of tasty foam that laces the glass with crinoline etchings of delicious residue as the beer sinks sip by sip. It's incredibly drinkable, and while the hop presence dominates the smell and taste of the beer it doesn't attack the pallette. The bitterness is slight, just a mild tingle towards the end of each sip that tickles the back of the tongue. Hops are the dominate taste, but Ranger doesn't fray the tastebuds with a shocking hop bath. Instead, due to an intense dryu hopping with Cascade hops, it's almost like a hop flavored amber rather than a typical IPA. It's a fun beer to both to drink and look at, and surprisingly sessionable - exactly what I've come to expect from NB.

Something unexpected, however, (at least for me) is a enjoyable Imperial IPA. Unlike a lot of people, I've never been impressed with the "Imperial" tag brewers have been slapping on their brews. To me, it's a great example of the nauseating self-propaganda techniques ad-execs use to make a quick buck, but hey, there's enough simpletons out there to make it profitable, so whatever. To me, it ain't Imperial unless it's wearing white armor and walking around the Death Star. That said...

Hop Czar Imperial IPA, Bridgeport Brewing Company, Portland, OR

It would be unfair to say that I was underwhelmed by the Czar. But it is Bridgeport's fault for calling it Imperial. When I hear Imperial expectations are raised. That's the point of calling it Imperial. I get prepared for an experience. It's irrelevant, really, whether it's good or bad - I'm looking for something memorable. Which is not what you get with the Czar. Don't get me wrong, you get a great beer, one that you'll want to drink regularly. And at 7.5% ABV and 85 IBU's you can drink three or four of these a night a few times a week and be perfectly happy. Fulfilled even. But you're not going to be blown away.

In many ways Hop Czar epitomizes Bridgeport itself. It's a great, flavorful beer that doesn't over-achieve or over-shoot it's boundries. It's recieved good reviews but nothing stellar, and provides a nice back bone for a style that's been plundered and pillaged like a Viking conquest over the last ten years. The IPA and Imperial IPA may be close to running it's course and it's nice that both of these powerhouse breweries have finally contributed their two cents to the conversation.

Well, that's it for now. Be back next month with a few more thoughts and such, and maybe one of those brewery visits I promised last time. Cheers! - jack

Reasons to be Good - A Short Conversation with Ryan Davis, State Champion of Kick Ass New Bands

I first stumbled upon Louisville, KY newcomers State Champion while bumming around music geek message boards one night and didn't think much of them.There was a buzz about the band, but something about their crunchy, guitar driven alt country just didn't sit right. The songs seemed confused and sloppy, the country punk seemed romanticized at best and contrived at worst. A few days later I gave hem another chance and I don't know, maybe it was the right combination of a few Pabst Blue Ribbons and the early evening light of a long and frustrating day, but it just hit me, the music clicked in my brain and I 'got it'. Since then I've listened to their first full length, Stale Champagne, about a thousand times, played it for every friend I have, found myself humming the tunes while doing the dishes, and relished the fact that I've reserved a spot for myself on this bands bandwagon before they get 'big', which is bound to happen any day now.

The band is the brainchild of Ryan Davis, a Kentucky bred art student turned songwriter who spent the better part of the past decade writing songs in a flat in Scotland and ploughing the fertile fields of the Louisville underground to piece his band together. Unlike most bands, which develop naturally through a core of bud's and beers, State Champion went through countless changes in lineup and arrangement, from Davis performing solo, to a two piece, to Davis solo again, etc.

"I struggled for a long time with what it meant to perform solo," he says. "If it was the kind of music I was intending to make or if it was only reflecting my laziness and lack of resources. I eventually hit a wall performing alone and began collaborating with anyone I knew with an instrument. Whether he or she was worth a damn or not was entirely secondary."

"Some were better than others," he continues. "Some were more interested than others. Almost all of them were friends, roommates, borrowed musicians of more established bands. I eventually arrived at a group of folks with whom I clicked enough to consider keepers. They were committed enough to tour and understood the songs well enough to make up for my shortcomings."

Exactly what those shortcomings are is a mystery. On record the band is nearly flawless. Unabashedly blending endearing lo-fi sensibility and polite farm boy twang with 90s-ish guitar heroics, Champagne is a major power surge for a scene which has been thirsting for authenticity since everyone starting pretending Yankee Hotel Foxtrot was a masterpiece. The songs that make up the record have a natural and honest feel to them, and they're possessed with a 'love 'em or hate 'em so what, we're not trying to impress anyone', attitude that's undeniably, well, impressive. More than being a genre record, it's a record of the Midwest, a record of experience, from influence to execution. Davis cites songwriters like Will Oldham, Conner Oberst and Jason Molina as major influences, but it's more than that.

"You grow up in Kentucky with this warped view of the world, wishing you were from New York City or somewhere in California," Davis says. "You listen to Nirvana and Jesus Lizard growing up, anything to avoid what came long before you, historically. I remember buying a Misfits shirt in 5th grade before I'd ever even heard them because I knew it was good. Then I went to the mall and bought Collection II and was like "What the fuck? This sounds like Elvis!" Took me a minute to wrap my head around it."

"When I was in Glasgow, alone in that flat with an acoustic guitar that I barely knew how to play I was coming from a year in American art school," Davis says. "I was having new bands shoved down my throat. Le Tigre, Animal Collective, all this wacky shit. But when I sat down to write that first batch of songs, it came out kind of sounding like country music. I didn't understand it, but I guess there is something inherently Southern that was just sort of boiling over the years, soaking in it for so long.

"Now that this record has been getting a little press, people talk about how we are paying homage to the greats of alt-country. Bands like Uncle Tupelo and Drive By Truckers and I have never heard a single one of these bands! Just makes me wonder if dudes like Jeff Tweedy and Ryan Adams started writing songs like that for the same reason I did. Because they loved both The Byrds and Black Flag, and that's just how their brain chose to deal with it."

Check out State Champion at their MySpace: myspace.com/iamstatechampion
Buy Stale Champagne here: http://sophomoreloungerecords.com/records.html