Showing posts with label Bay Area punk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bay Area punk. Show all posts

Friday, May 4, 2012

Crucifix: Logo #335

Designed by anarcho-punk band Crucifix (detourned from Gerald Holtom's original 1958 symbol of the British nuclear disarmament movement) for their 1983 album "Dehumanization," issued by the Corpus Christi label, the sub-label owned by Crass.  The mushroom cloud is here used as a wise and incisive presentation of the modern cross on which we were all hellbent on crucifying ourselves back in 1983.  Here's Crucifix live in concert before they broke up in 1984.  If I'd had to perform in front of a lethally bored audience like that one, I'd want to hang it up, too.  Here's a faintly illuminating interview with Sothira Pheng, Crucifix's fiery Cambodian lead singer; it apparently dates to just before "Dehumanization" was issued.  Pheng has some entertaining things to say about the episode of "Quincy" in which the punk rock menace was "revealed."  I wonder if any other punk bands were interviewed about that particular network television event at the time.  Here's another clip, riddled with clichés as it is, with traditional heavy William Forsythe playing the lead singer of Pain on the "CHiPs" punk rock episode.  Another ridiculous scare attempted by squares.  Time passages.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Logo #90: Screeching Weasel

Illustration by Paul Russel for Screeching Weasel's sophomorically sophomore 1988 LP "Boogada Boogada Boogada." Their attitude can be crystallized up quite eloquently in a lyric from the album's track "Nicaragua": "I hate your problems / I hate your politics / and I hate the way you smell / 2-3-4!" They break up and reform more times than The Blob. The most recent reformation (apart from the Protestant one) happened in 2004. Screeching Weasel was one of the lone sweet smells in the grunge-stained garbage pit that was the whiny '90s. Bandmember John "Jughead" Pierson's 2005 book, "Weasels in a Box," was about the vague vagaries of the pop-punk world - which, it turns out, was a microcosmic comment on the vicissitudes of fame itself. Ben Weasel remains Ben Weasel.