1984 stands tall as a high point for music in tons of genres, one of which was American indie/underground/whatever the fuck. SST was a Cronos figure, having fathered the idea that any dillweed could get a band pulled together and record an album. Greg Ginn, the founder of SST, led Black Flag into punk stardom as the fastest and upset-ednest independent band in the West. After Damaged, the band got into a nasty lawsuit about who owned the music they recorded. The band may have had credence in the underground music scene, but they were still broke, so Black Flag went on a weird hiatus where they couldn' t record music, during which they released older material with non-Rollins singers and helped SST record other bands. My War had most of the songs written earlier than 84, the infamous demos from 82 included a flourished Black Flag band. However, the official release of My War is starker and emptier. Fitting for just their second album. Saint Vitus and doomier metal most likely invaded BF's influences, side two is infamous for being sludgey and off-putting; just three songs on a whole side was a thing for Yes to do, not a punk band. Hence this album is polarizing to many Black Flag fans. My War is a grotesque album, Ginn moonlights as Dale Nixon and plays bass on top of a terrifying jazz guitar caught in a tornado. Bill Stevenson joins Black Flag with tons of gusto, he plays a little different than Robo and Biscuits, very precise in implicating a paranoid environment. And what more needs to be said about Henry Rollins, his anger is tenfold Damaged on this beast. The pure sound of the album is devoid of beauty in the traditional sense, yet Ginn's solos are masterpieces as he squelches Robert Fripp riffs out like a total creature, his fingers must have been bleeding during those things. This album is clear sign of what was to come with the the grunge movement, doom metal, and drone, upon many many more artists. What amazes me about this album, is how much it seems to be constraining itself. It is as if the emotion is seeping out as the lone three Black Flagers tried to make sense of whatever emotional despair they were feeling, yet they attempt to control it, put it in a bottle. Everything and everyone is an enemy, the biggest of which is yourself. The cover depicts a puppet about to kill its user with a knife. By the end of the final song, it is all too clear.
Black Flag - My War
1984 stands tall as a high point for music in tons of genres, one of which was American indie/underground/whatever the fuck. SST was a Cronos figure, having fathered the idea that any dillweed could get a band pulled together and record an album. Greg Ginn, the founder of SST, led Black Flag into punk stardom as the fastest and upset-ednest independent band in the West. After Damaged, the band got into a nasty lawsuit about who owned the music they recorded. The band may have had credence in the underground music scene, but they were still broke, so Black Flag went on a weird hiatus where they couldn' t record music, during which they released older material with non-Rollins singers and helped SST record other bands. My War had most of the songs written earlier than 84, the infamous demos from 82 included a flourished Black Flag band. However, the official release of My War is starker and emptier. Fitting for just their second album. Saint Vitus and doomier metal most likely invaded BF's influences, side two is infamous for being sludgey and off-putting; just three songs on a whole side was a thing for Yes to do, not a punk band. Hence this album is polarizing to many Black Flag fans. My War is a grotesque album, Ginn moonlights as Dale Nixon and plays bass on top of a terrifying jazz guitar caught in a tornado. Bill Stevenson joins Black Flag with tons of gusto, he plays a little different than Robo and Biscuits, very precise in implicating a paranoid environment. And what more needs to be said about Henry Rollins, his anger is tenfold Damaged on this beast. The pure sound of the album is devoid of beauty in the traditional sense, yet Ginn's solos are masterpieces as he squelches Robert Fripp riffs out like a total creature, his fingers must have been bleeding during those things. This album is clear sign of what was to come with the the grunge movement, doom metal, and drone, upon many many more artists. What amazes me about this album, is how much it seems to be constraining itself. It is as if the emotion is seeping out as the lone three Black Flagers tried to make sense of whatever emotional despair they were feeling, yet they attempt to control it, put it in a bottle. Everything and everyone is an enemy, the biggest of which is yourself. The cover depicts a puppet about to kill its user with a knife. By the end of the final song, it is all too clear.
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