femurs "modern mexico" review on Tripwire Category: Music The Femurs Modern Mexico (HomeSpun) from www.thetripwire.com If your dick hurts for some Screeching Weasel, J Church, or The Mr. T Experience-type pop-punk that can only be performed by a pair of drunken skunks from the Pacific Northwest who grew up cracking jokes and sharing smokes while repeatedly melting wax of Ramones LPs in New York City, then your Johnson will be pleased to hear The Femurs. Colin and Rob are a couple of Caddyshack-line spitting, beer swilling, lonely heart boys who run around on stage, toweling off sweaty guitars, snotty mics, & smelly drum kits as if their instruments were the town slut. With lyrics penned by tattooed romantics, hocked on top of electric acoustic grooves, The Femurs stir a scene like The Queers ripping the axe from John Darnielle's hands and using it to demolish every 4-track recording from The Mountain Goats. The band's third effort, Modern Mexico, lands the kooky punch of Dead Milkmen with the throat chop of The Riverdales. Don't expect to mosh your best friends to death on Modern Mexico. Dudes are from Seattle where the vibe is way laid back like 24/7 in the freezer isle at cooler world. As tough as you think you are, these recordings will tug at your black heart, while you drink drink drink your vitals into alcoholic infernos, dying for that fire extinguisher from your dreams (or fifth period science class) to put our your body's fire. These addictive tracks are lively bursts of sappiness for both the tattooed or clean-cut crews. Whenever I drink with these two, who would sound great on FAT, Merge, or Lookout! (in 1991), I love to get into belligerent shenanigans with Rabbi Rob Femur, one half of this playful pair and host of the 4-hour punk explosion "Gabba Gabba Hey" Saturday nights on KNDD-fm. Once, for example, I threw a full can of Fosters, Australian for beer, towards the stubble cheeks of his New York mug. Colin, for now, remains safe. Support these West Coast country-punkers and take their underground trip to Modern Mexico.

femurs - "modern mexico" review Category: Music femurs have anew review for "Modern Mexico" at : www.seattle-powerpop.blogspot.com/ I love coming home to find a package in the mail containing a shiny new CD. Today's package transported the new disc by The Femurs to me. It's titled Modern Mexico, and it's quite excellent. What you get on this disc is a collection of 12 songs (six new and six from the Jack Cafferty Vs. Chuck Scarborough EP) played on acoustic guitar and drums. So, what does it sound like? Take a bit of the Ramones, a bit of the Violent Femmes, a bit of Weezer, and a touch of the lyrical goofiness of some of today's pop-punk bands and you're somewhere in the ballpark of their style. They call what they do "folk punk," and if you're a genre purist, I'm not sure that really fits. I don't know that there's really anything "folk" about them, other than the presence of the acoustic guitar, and it seems like they're way too likable to be "punk" in the way I think of that term. That said, they do share some traits of punk rocks bands in that they write speedy songs that have been stripped of excess (although there is something approaching a drum solo on track 5). Of course, I've never been a genre purist, so I don't really care where they fit. While it may be hard to fit neatly into a genre, the disc is unmistakably great summertime record that is toe-tappingly fun. Even my wife, who isn't really a music fan, yelled "that's catchy" to me half way through the first track during my first listen. If you don't have this one blasting at your Fourth of July party, then you're missing out on a good vibe setter. Just add this album to some burgers, some libations and someone almost getting a finger blown off with an m-80 and you've got the perfect party. I'm pleased as punch to have The Femurs slated for Powerpop Night in early August. So, stay tuned for more details on that in July.

femurs - "modern mexico" review II Category: Music a sweet review of the new femurs cd "modern mexico" is posted on www.usounds.com I Love You from the Bottom of My Pencil Case On a spring morning or was it afternoon, I bounded down the stairs to my mailbox. I peeked in the cavernous metal hole. I felt lucky. There it sat like a baby on a nunnery doorstep–Los Femurs Modern Mexico. When I shot Rob Femur a myspace message asking for a copy of the new Femurs' CD, I intended to write a quick review and shop it around to various music publications. But after hearing their new power-pop tracks, I knew Usounds was the only home for my yet-unwritten review. What once was a one-name band, Femurs, had mysteriously gained the masculine, Spanish article "Los." Curious. You'd think band mates Rob and Colin ran away to Mexico and were adopted by a mariachi band. Since working in a kitchen with two brothers from Mexico, I had gained an interest in Mexican culture. Maybe it's Mexico's influence on The West Coast, but nevertheless, I'm digging it. Everyone is doing it. I mean take for example Black Lips live album Los Valientes del Mundo Nuevo. These guys traveled from Atlanta to Tijuana to play a show and pay tribute to Latino/Mexi-punk roots. Mexico is rad. It's punk rock! The tracks on this promo copy center around relationships, both plutonic and sexual. Songs written about girls. Mind you, songs about girls carry universal appeal. If it weren't for girls, then we male artists (and lesbian artists) wouldn't have problems to write about. What is it that girls (or senoritas) do to torture the mind of an artist? Do they lead us into an alcohol-riddled abyss from which we claw ourselves out of by writing words and making music? Remember that time your girlfriend threw a frozen burrito at you, you ducked, and the burrito smashed your favorite LP? Rob and Colin Femur have written songs that you can relate to. Oh, no! How did this review become so deep–even too deep? I should wrap it up here. And now, buy the new Los Femurs CD. All proceeds go towards fixing their van that broke down somewhere south of Mexico City. I mean the scenery there is breathtaking; I've seen the postcards. But they have hella homesickness and crave clam chowder. -Braxton Younts