I first discovered L7 in college when I had the misfortune
of hearing the band’s debut. It’s awful, horribly produced, and it’s absolutely
nothing that you need to consider.
The point it, by the time their third album¸ Bricks Are Heavy, I was already
predisposed to disliking this band very much and probably wouldn’t have noticed
if it wasn’t for the promotional copy I received.
Bricks Are Heavy is
produced by Butch Vig, which had a certain amount of credibility back when this
record was first released as Mr. Vig was already regarded as the dude that
helped break Nirvana.
Within moments, you’re greeted by that friendly compression
that Vig painted on nearly every early 90’s document he touched, but the
amazing thing is how L7 brought their A-game to the Midwestern comforts of his Wisconsin studio.
Credit Donita Sparks for shouldering a large portion of
those crunchy and melodic songs. She’s no poet, but she brings a lot of piss
and vinegar to the proceedings with stories straight out of the trailer park,
garage, and mosh pit.
These fringe characters were real, and there’s no doubt in
my mind that they were part of L7’s world back in the early 90’s. The time
capsule is here, it’s loud, and it’s catchy as hell even two decades later.
In the cd booklet, there are pictures of the band in various
stages of poses, but there’s a lone picture of a girl’s legs, each one
intricately inked with L7’s logo, a pair of hands shaped like an “L” and a “7.”
Those legs belonged to Stacie Quijas, a member of San Francisco ’s LGBT punk
community and, obviously, a fan of L7. 8 years after the photo was taken,
Quijas succumbed to her heroin addiction in the form of an awful flesh-eating bacteria that was acquired from intravenous injections. It came from a nasty
strain of tar heroin, and the tainted drugs nearly took another friend of hers
shortly after her passing.
Like I said, Bricks
Are Heavy works because there is sad reality behind these goofy characters
that L7 brings to the forefront. There’s Stacie the addict, the temperamental
music fan Everglade, and that aforementioned squatter skinhead, Scrap. But what
they also bring to those tragic figures is a voice-supplemented by heavy guitar
chords-and a fuck all feistiness that transcends gender, economics, and in the
case of this album, the twenty years since these stones were first hurled.
1 comment:
I never knew you liked this. 'Pretend we're dead' is an awesome song off of this too. Not an album I listen to anymore but was great in its time.
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