Tiger Army, The Business, The Disasters, F-Minus & the U.S. Roughnecks

For everyone who made it to this one, it can probably be agreed that such an onslaught of musically channeled aggression, kept in check only by raw talent, does not occur very often in places like Chico. For everyone else, may this length of words convey something close to that of which money or circumstances robbed you. Now go bang your head against a wall.
Sacramento’s U.S. Roughnecks opened up with the obligatory crowd abuse, complete with “fuck yous,” flying middle fingers and accusations of poseur-dom. They then went off like a punk warhead, flailing insanely and screaming what must have been obscenely pissed-off lyrics. Musically they did not delve too far into the realm of melody or structure, and they all looked like the type of gorilla that would mug you for $3 to buy a 40, but the two-Telecaster guitar section ensured that you heard what they were playing, and the onstage tornado of tattoos and middle fingers made for an awesome spectacle.
Just when it looked impossible to be more aggressive than that, F-Minus was. The lead singer, a skinny punk girl with a scream that might have startled Kurt Cobain, played one of two guitars - the other held by the dreadlocked backup singer - while the drummer kept up a frenzied pummeling of his kit. Besides being ridiculously fast, the music seemed slightly more organized, with periods of muted chunking and call-and-response vocals. The set tore on like a runaway train, at one point bearing the ferocity of a female-fronted Slayer, until it closed with a slow, strange tribal-esque number, rife with loud guitar and anguished screaming.
Roger Merit and the Disasters, hailing from New York, brought a change of pace for the growing audience; the Mohawk-and-piercing content of which would have terrified any parent in the room. The Disasters at first seemed to carry a sort of awkward vibe, like an AFI-soundalike fronted by a wailing ’60s country singer. This must have been due simply to pre-show rustiness coupled with the abrupt change in band style, because after they (and the reviewer) got into it, they seemed like a solid working-class oi band, complete with mob-chanted choruses and actual “oi”-ing. Musically, they injected a degree of pop-y-ness, which must have rubbed the crowd the right way judging from the pumping fists and singing along. The band brought a couple of guest singers onstage, pumped out some more “oi”s and ended the set.
When The Business hit the fan, the first thing I thought was, “what a loud, obnoxious, hostile band - like they think they’re British or something.” After being informed by the screamy punk girl from F-Minus that they were, in fact, from London, everything made sense. Unhealthily scrawny, clad in loose wife-beaters and making a point of getting right up in the crowd’s face, the lead singer and every other mobile band member let everyone know that “they want justice, not politics, oi oi oi.” The crowd’s response said they wanted whatever the Brits wanted, and everyone got along as the sassy, bratty punk rock raged on. Catchy, shout-able choruses and more fist pumping characterized the rest of their set, and everyone piled in to wait for the closing act.
The mob started screaming when the usual between-set concert music gave way to an old, scratchy country recording, at the end of which Tiger Army blasted forth their first note. The LA-based three-piece definitely stood out from the pack, justifying having their own separate merch table and a much longer set than their comrades. Drummer Fred Hell’s impeccable old-rock-style drumming combined with the clicking from bassist Geoff Kresge’s classic stand-up bass to make a very interesting rhythm section, while frontman Nick 13’s crunchy guitar and flawless rock ‘n’ roll vocals rounded out an entirely unique stage show. The music pounded with bass, keeping up a steady tempo that straddled the border between rockabilly and punk, but the key was in the vocals - not screamed, often not even shouted. Nick 13 sang in a relaxed croon that, despite its mournful gentleness, glided perfectly over the pounding rock behind it. Harmonies and occasional lead vocals from the bassist added depth, and Hell, drumming with uncrossed hands so his snare strike came all the way from his left temple, added an ear-shattering snap, making the beat impossible to lose. Moshing would have seemed out of place with the band’s style, and there was not enough room on the floor anyway, but it was clear the crowd was all in on this round. With Nick 13 rocking out onstage and Kresge leaning out over the crowd, the band played new numbers such as “Ghostfire,” off their forthcoming new album, and “Under Silent Shadow.” But they made sure to end the set on the much-requested “Never Die,” to the insanity of the crowd, which nevertheless managed to stir up quite a turbulent mosh pit. The band encored, then ended another run in Chico, for now.
- Peter Kimmich
- Photo by Alyssa Starkey

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