Jerry Wick and Jenny Mae: Part 19 “There’s A Bar Around” & Cheater Slicks

Belakoekrompecher's Blog


Jenny had a great talent for ducking out when things were going well for her, some may say that she had a fear of success but I now believe that it had more to do with her mental illness and an inability to handle stress in any sort of proactive way. This was true for many of us, life came easy for us, the successes as well as the failures slipped in and out of our collective grasps as so much rain hurtling to the ground in November. Jenny split town shortly after her first record was made, she and her husband flew the coup to New Orleans where she always felt a kinship.

Jenny used to listen to New Orleans jazz and ragtime every Saturday night while living in rural western Ohio. The station was from Dayton or Indianapolis, was most likely a tiny AM band that seemed…

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Hello 2017: BRAVATA 7″


I have a hard time finding the right words to describe anything anymore. The world feels like a gooey saccharine web filled with deflated nostalgia and overstimulated suspicion. It’s a feeling that reminds me of being depressed in my early teens. I never felt comfortable with the preset cliques that were conveniently in place, always mirroring the latest John Hughes movie. I didn’t want to be an outsider but the in-crowd was always painfully under-stimulating. In order to take part in both worlds, I would have to compromise elements of my personality and it always pissed me off.

The annoying conundrum led me into a lifetime affair with self soothing obsessions and mind altering vices, take your pick. This was the only way of ‘sneaking in’ to the human freak show without having to pay a cover charge. If people were uninhibited, how would they really act if they thought no one was watching?  The people who were in those glossy moments of poisoned candidness with me are burned permanently into my selective memory, like impulsive ghosts waiting for the next big thing. For just one day, even just a few hours, everything mattered and nothing mattered.

The very desirable state of tranquil recklessness is not an easy one to find. New singles that are actually ‘good’ are not easy to find. The debut single by Italy’s Bravata caught me completely off guard, a sucker punch packed with hot songwriting and slick punk rock rowdiness. Led by Sergio Chiari of White Zoo Records fame, this tumultuous trio has produced an unforgettable single fused with decadent punk glam and insidious rock n roll fury.

The lead track/theme song ‘Bravata’ is an instant classic with its infectious atomic chorus and Zeros-esque punchy verse trade offs. It reminds me of a hidden gem you would find on an obscure early 80s punk compilation. The kind of secret track that makes you feel invincible around your friends because YOU are the one who discovered it. The B-Side ‘The South They All Ignore’ is the real hidden gem here. This track is the coolest fusion of T-Rex, Link Wray, and early Sub Pop psych-grunge. The vocal has a menacing hypnotic quality with its use of poetic aloofness and glitter damaged melody. If you’re bored with the new world order and looking for a new soundtrack to collapse into, start it with the stunning debut single by Bravata.

White Zoo Records

Kevin McGovern, 2017 

Slack Bastards – EST 93 EP


I returned home this summer for the first time time in 16 years. The experience so far has been somewhat bizarre to say the least. It feels like I went away for a month, drove back, and then everything suddenly aged at an insane acceleration. I’ve been aging at an insane acceleration, much faster than the people and places that surround me.

The once close memories of big bright cities and combustible friendships are now just a sporadic blur of stretched sound and light, fleeting in shape and substance. Crumbs of burnt adrenaline floating down an unsteady stream of obnoxious romantic relationships. I feel like the anxious bugs I see crawling through the cracks in my house, trying to scurry away from the oncoming freeze.

What can I say, I’m always changing my mind. I remember how music always propelled me to go after my crazy pipe dreams . When I heard the new reunion EP by the Slack Bastards, it brought back those intense feelings of naive invincibility and self assured hostility.

Glam damaged garage meets primitive beach punk in this seedy ruckus of sugary swill from Tucson, Arizona. This quick blast of six trashy tunes blends the coarse musical sleaze of the Joneses with the brattiness of classic Metal Mike. Crackling reverbed guitar and forceful boom pop rhythms fuel the Beach Boulevard inspired bashing. Sordid contemplations and a fun fuck-off attitude create the shady playground these seasoned punks call home. This trashed out letter bomb is out now on Doug Moody’s infamous Mystic Records.  Get a clue and snatch this one up.

Mystic Records

Slack Bastards Facebook

– Kevin McGovern