The Niles Fair

New noise from State of Corruption and the Highway Strippers

by Michael Caito

Enjoy precision? Twirl the Highway Strippers' new four-song single Stories for Stags on Wakefield's Mobcore Records (www.netsense.net/~mobcore). The Prov-based trio entered Tiverton's Samson Studio for down-strokey, loud fun, emerging with the tightly-wound, frill-free effort you'd expect from the label which brought us Arson Family's careening La Cosa Nostra. With quicksilver progressions of rhythm guitarist Rob, and more bass magic by Angus (one of the very smoothest four-stringers around), their debut's nothing if not tightly-coiled and brash just this side of hardcore, equally capable of dark humor ("Used To Be A Catholic") and mean-spirited vitriol like "His Girl Friday." Sensitive?Nope. Blustery cock-rock? Nay, despite the title, though they'll have to mix it up a bit since this material can wear thin after about four tunes. Predictions on the Highway Strippers' ability to do that? The jury's out, but the cornerstone -- the musicianship -- is granite. Where they take it after this fleet, if one-dimensional, vinyl platter will tell the story.

It's far more difficult to say where North Providence's State of Corruption will take it after their new Back Room Sauce (Swingin' T-Bag). They're sprawling all over the place, toting bongs, dropping slightly-musty Ebonics like their ghetto passes are about to be revoked. Any suburbanite's co-opting of urban toughness is hilarious, but it's even occasionally convincing as on the track "Boxout," which meshes lotsa hoop imagery around an emo-core-via-the-Beasties mix, replete with turntable scratching. But c'mon, fellas, you're white. And you aren't the Beasties yet.

That's the only squawk with Back Room Sauce. Truthfully, I plan on playing "Boxout" so effin' loud when Cat Mobley dunks directly in the face of UMass center Lari Ketner this weekend that my speakers cook. Can't fault a band unafraid of aiming high (while high, I guess), and on Sauce SOC scrap like demons to mesh Mike D's techniques with Rage (the most obvious comparison) and Fugazi. In the case of those last two you have meritorious bands who have lent credence to their social agendas due to their unflinching stances. Good start.

The frustration apparent in the disc is sobering. Young lives have been spent enduring sour truths rammed down their throats. Lyrically it's one of the hardest-hitting discs unleashed in these parts since Dropdead's HGFact effort, and that came out in Japan. They manage the rough stuff well, and it's the first time in a long time that a CD's lyrics may make me cross the street before confronting the likes of vocalists King Mike Land Fasad, DJ "Big Daddy" Thrill, guitarist Ray Corsini, drummer Mike Lopes or bassist Paul Phillips. It's metal with a slower rap, glass-grinding Helmet-inspired riffs over Thrill's deeply-etched turntable chopblocks. Fasad and Mike L. can twist the most cocksure phrase like "you need a pain killer for this endonesian sound" into an evil stoner grin, serpentine and lecherous.

But beyond the braggadocio is the ostracized kid, left out at school, hanging in the back of the room and acting the clown. In "Run Down" the class wiseacre's cry for attention can wrench on two levels: lonely kid ridicules the popular kids and the shallowness they stand for while trying to gain respect as a C-minus student with no shot at college and a likely stint at a convenience store in the very near future. In SOC's world where the cliché "it ain't what you know it's who you know" is a force-fed commandment in nepotism-soaked Rhode Island, you can't say they are exaggerating. Even the party-down side of SOC always keeps one eye peeled for threats when entering a room. Can they be blamed for plotting against kids who abused them in school? Nope. Are they going to fight back?How 'bout right now.

Seemingly mundane topics are where SOCshine, and even the funny, well-timed "Hey You Guuu-uuys!" snippet from the Electric Company acts as a foil for bubbling frustration. How successfully they essay the age-old theme of breaking free from restrictive social bonds is the crucial point, and Back Room Sauce does occasionally fall into the raptrap of hyperbolic self-promotion. Their heroes always emerge victorious, which is fine, but SOC know it's fantasy. They know the player who has to keep saying that he's a player . . . ain't.

They're festering whiners only once or twice, which is excellent given the topics and the fact that in less-adept hands their "issues" would be unbearably boring. The music splashes and sprays like an unruly puddle, or marinara whenever you wear a white shirt. It also chugs and drops out without the too-trite stop-on-a-dime schtick that's torpedoed some of metal's mightier bands. That's quality songwriting. A few tracks would treble their effectiveness by being shortened (songs are not kudzu!), but on a debut that's par. The turntable scratching is spotty and even when Thrill floors it during the great breaks he isn't loud enough. But he's still locked in.

Final observation? I grew up with a ton of guys like this and don't blame them for being irritated. Since they're among the too-few who may actually (like Dropdead) walk the walk about making things better, you've gotta root them on. The DJ's been with them since jump so don't think it's a tacked-on vibe. At points he dominates the record. They can deliver live exactly what they've recorded, to which anyone who has heard them in the past three years can attest. Another plus. Though Sauce teeters on the edge of metal drudgery, it is buoyed by humor and redeemed by conviction. After all, there are plots yet to be carried out in the State of Corruption.

State of Corruption play the Living Room Friday with Freakshow and 7 Hills Psychos.

STARS & BARS. March 8 is a tough choice, with Safari Lounge going five bands deep: Pig Destroyer, Cattle Press, Enemy Soil, Paindriver and Landed. The Met has more familiar faces in an acoustic setting with Scarce alum Chick Graning, Boston's Jules Verdone, Delta Clutch and Figgs stalwart Pete Donnally. Keep an ear open for the Figgs. Lo-Fi at Society Hi was ace. Neutral Milk Hotel arrive at the Call Monday, and the L.U.V's team up with Atlanta's mischievous Bob in a double CD-release show at the Century Lounge. Tonight (3.5), the Rebecca Hart Project, Erin McKeown and His Panic Band hit the Met, and on Saturday it's Mark Cutler's record release party for Skylolo. Young Neal & the Vipers share this excellent bill, and they've just returned from another studio session with Bob Greenlee down south. Neal's take on the Vipers' follow-up to Thirteen? "Bluesier." In seven.