Slimy Member – Ugly Songs For Ugly People [IMPORT] – New LP
Dark and compact as dried Dallas mud, digging in the ground, coffin lids pried open, scabs peeled back, picking dried blood from the Texas punk history books, coughed up straight from the gut, moving like a bucket of rattlesnake across the cement of an abandoned lot, whipping it out fast as a snake's tongue, sinking fangs into the songs and letting the venom drain into your day. This is dark as death and howling good, rising from the past to see the light of day again. -- winch (green noise records)
"Thought you’d missed out on the chance to scoop up one of the best punk albums of 2017? Luckily for you, here’s another opportunity - the debut album from Dallas’ own Slimy Member is back in print. That first pressing evaporated from stores almost as soon as it was released by Drunken Sailor, and now here it is, don’t sleep on it this time, cheez. You know the sound already; a meaner-than-thou blast of ominous power chords and lowdown menace with nods to Rudimentary Peni (obviously), Die Kreuzen and the seething rush of early Saccharine Trust. That title, meanwhile, recalls The Cramps while there are even hints of the Misfits and their horror punk brethren - not least in Cesar Perez’s compelling growl, which alternates between a cathartic croon and conjuring images of someone gargling broken glass in an echo chamber. Either way, it sounds fucking great. With an endless stream of punk bands throwing back to the 1980s and somehow getting it very wrong indeed, you’d be forgiven for reading this dumbass precis and thinking, ‘So fucking what?’ But trust me: this record more than holds its own with the bands it draws influence from. It’s a howl from the gutter set to music that makes you want to pile up your belongings and set fire to them while bricking the windows of your local Conservative Club. Alternatively, it’s WAY existential and it fucking slays. I fucking love this record. Don’t let yourself miss out for a second time." Will Fitzpatrick
Brand new 2021. Originally released in 2017 and has been long out of print.
It’s a bit telling that when Slimy Member founder Malcolm Williams ended his own life in 2019 that his death was not picked up in local Dallas music media, even though Malcolm’s band had been nominated for a Dallas Observer Music Award in 2015 and that same publication had mentioned Slimy Member a few times before that ((Individual musicians in Dallas, it is important to note, did in fact hold their own tributes for Mal.)
But Dallas is notoriously bad about keeping its own history; it’s why few Dallasites know much of this city began as a French socialist commune, or that much silent film history exists here that Robert Johnson recorded some of his spookiest blues here, or that horror novelist Anne Rice met her husband, the poet Stan Rice, while at high school in Richardson around here; or that legendary British DJ John Peel, of Peel Sessions fame, actually got his start here. The list goes on and on about everything Dallasites (often) don’t know about Dallas. (In fact, this situation has caused me to mull over the idea of starting a blog or writing a book called something like North Texas’ Hidden Reverse.) Many folks in North Texas, it seems—including the media, especially—prefer a shiny new object to the actual strange—yet, all the more fascinating—history of this area. Slimy Member, like punk band Stick Men with Ray Guns, are now a part of Dallas’ fascinating dark cultural and historical landscape.
Slimy Member began in November, 2013 from the ruins of Dallas hardcore punk band Dead Line. (Not to be confused with DC hardcore band Deadline!) Slimy Member started as a 4-piece, with Cesar Perez (of Pink Thing, and other bands) on vocals, Austen Eby on bass, Malcolm Williams on guitar, and Matt Preston (of Steel Bearing Hand) on drums
Slimy Member’s performance was powerful, and while a lot of bands’ first shows can be wobbly and the musicians seem like they’re suffering from a lack of confidence, Slimy Member were tighter than a bolted coffin lid from the get-go. They’ve remained that way each of the times that I’ve seen them since that first show. Their subject matter, again as with Rudimentary Peni, alternates between the political and the macabre, and even the purely social commentary stuff comes filtered through a kind of graveyard fog of Lovecraftian allegory that recalls their kindred spirits in the creepy occult-obsessed anarcho-punk band Part 1 Or the Sinyx. A song like Slimy Member’s “Flesh and Blood” is pretty much a perfect deathy punk/deathrock song, while track 2, “Prisoner,” is an uptempo rager that recalls early 80s Southern California punk, like early TSOL or maybe even a hint of Final Conflict.
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