record reviews: Gotta love those 7-inches
Ed Blake, The Peak

Most people know what records are. I apply the word to anything that has music on it. "Have you heard this new record? Did you get so-and-so's record? How's the thingamabob record coming along?" It shouldn't be all that confusing, but from some I get responses like, "They don't have a record out, but I can send you their CD." I use "record" because I refuse to give up the ghost of the analog world.

But wanna know what gets me going even more than full-length vinyl albums? Their little cousin, the seven-inch. The seven-inch is different from other forms of recorded medium. They're a bit of a pain in the ass. They're small, but not tiny. Sometimes they need to be played at different speeds: 45 or 33 1/3 rpm. They don't all have the same-sized hole in the center, meaning that sometimes you have to supply a seven-inch centre pin. But, worst of all, they have to be played on a fucking record player! What a pain.

If you can get past all that, however, you'll discover the real beauty of the seven-inch. Some have picture sleeves, and, nine times out of 10, the B-side is a non-album cut. You're more apt to find a seven-inch pressed in colored vinyl than you are an LP. And don't even get me started on matrix etchings! You never get those on CDs.

So, I like seven-inch records. Aesthetically, I like every thing about them. But, not everything that gets recorded on them is necessarily golden. Every month, I spend a chunk of change and buy a load of them. Here are some of the more recent ones:

The Leeches, Integration b/w Ghost Ship (Kapow Records)

Ever get the urge to do the shimmy or the shake? Here's about six minutes (combined sides) of garage rock, dance party, sock hop, ass-moving instrumental (emphasis on the mental) madness. A three-piece band from San Pedro, made up of Reech, Teech, and Bleech. From what I can tell, none of them play the guitar, because all I can hear is drums, bass, and (Farfisia?) organ.

The Hunches, Fuck Disco Beats (In The Red Records)

It sounds like the singer is having a tantrum. I'm just assuming that they have a bass player. Rudimentary drumming, buzzsaw guitar work, and the sound of lots of breaking bottles. Add it all up and you've got four guys doing their best Velvet Underground meets The Jesus and Mary Chain. In theory, it should be better than it is.

The Starvations, One Way To Remind b/w Give Me The Keys (Gold Standard Laboratories)

I really like this band. They hit all the indie-rock points without sounding tired or derivative. Toss in a taste of backwoods twang and that's some fine vittles. Based in Los Angeles, this five-piece group has been around for six or so angsty years. They also share a member, Vanessa Gonzalez, with The Lipstick Pickups.

Pansy Division/Skinjobs, Dirty Queers Don't Come Cheap (split single) (Mint Records)

Two bands, two sides, no waiting. Pansy Division, a four-piece from San Francisco, contributes two songs that are nowhere near as fast or as heavy as I remember the group being. The first song, about heartbreak, doesn't do much for me. But the second, "I Know Your Type," whips out a sassy organ line. Over all, though, the hooks are still there, but just not as sharp. Flip the record over, and you have two songs from Vancouver's own (now defunct) Skinjobs. Upbeat, aggressive punk rock performed by a sexy three-piece.

Ed Blake is the music coordinator at CJSF, SFU's community radio station. His job is to listen to hundreds of records each week. Lucky man.

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