04. O'Neill Oh No
05. What's The Problem Mussolini
07. High Tech
09. It Must Hurt Now
10. No Gracias
11. Baise Moi
12. The Gag
13. Worst Part
14. Total Trash
15. I Am A Princess
Like a pipebomb on the dance floor, C.AARME explodes on the scene to the delight of indie rockers and old school punks alike. Don't worry, their not that fashion punk that seethes from the oily pores of the corporate rock machines of today... this is the real sweaty deal. Destroyed amplifiers, guitars through windows, and blown out vocal chords. A maniacal attack of cataclysmic proportions. C.AARME is here to behead the new garage punk aristocracy with their loose aggressiveness and chaotic, yet danceable bass lines reminicent of vintage Bad Brains or early Damned.
Recorded @ Don Piérre studios in July 2003 by Don Ahlsterberg & Per Stålberg. Produced by C.Aarmé.
Released on Burning Heart / Carcrash Records - February 25th 2004. Cover & label layout by C.Aarmé.
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US Rel. Date: 07/13/2004
EU Rel. Date: 07/12/2004
The Village Voice
Jesse Garon (who?) sounds a lot like Tito Larriva (who?). Larriva's trio, the Plugz, released Electrify Me, probably the great lost L.A. punk document, in 1979. They realized before anyone else that hardcore and Tejano shared a rhythm, and made that insight the foundation of their hyper-caffeinated, toe-tapping sound. (They threw in reggae, and an anarchist take on "La Bamba," just for kicks.) Jesse Garon fronts C.Aarmé, whose self-titled debut CD is pissy, politically incoherent, and as herky-jerky as a coked-up chimp with five arms.
The bass frequently shoves the guitar into the background, roaring like a pavement saw and blasting thick chunks of rock in every direction. And the "Wipeout"-style drum break on "I Am a Princess" could make your summer. The album's 15 songs are short and spastic, with just enough melody to make you jump up and down, if maybe not quite sing along.
I kinda doubt C.Aarmé are the Plugz's direct, conscious heirs: They mostly cop from their Swedish countrymen (headlong velocity from grindcore muscleheads Nasum, and grimy, down-tuned death-rock riffing from Entombed). I wish they were, though. The world could use another great Mex-punk band, even one without any Mexicans.
For Sweden's C.AARME, it means something else: Punk's doing something very, very wrong.
Despite the fact that an Epitaph under-label issued its debut and its Swedish heritage, C.AARME would fit as comfortably onto a Warped Tour side stage as Marilyn Manson would heading up the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Breaking from the legions of Bad Religion wannabes, Rancid disciples, Braid clones, and pop-punk grommets, C.AARME plays punk as it's supposed to be: fast, loud and especially dirty.
Just about everyone should be able to agree that C.AARME isn't about which you'll anything to complain. Rather than play it safe and follow in the footsteps of another band's marketing, C.AARME flails about with the violence and intensity of the earliest punk acts. The hilariously titled "Tu Puta Mi Casa" flexes its muscles with crashing drums, guitars that sound as if the band tossed them down the studio's stoop five minutes before recording and an over-the-top intensity that turns its Stooges on speed sound into little more than a crusty drone. "Moron" builds on the one-track-minded riffs of The Germs or Bad Brains. The grinding riffs of "The Gag" make listeners feel like they just emerged from a 95-mph car crash, only to have attending paramedics kick them in the nuts. Brutal, no-nonsense and utterly abrasive, C.AARME is the sort of album you're bound to like if you truly like punk.
You'll like the gang of Swedish miscreants, but it's hard to love them. Ready for Hot Topic the band sure as hell isn't, but that doesn't mean it's 100 percent original, either. With the weight of 25 years' punk history bearing down on it, it's impossible not to hear the legacy of everyone from The Dead Boys and The Stooges to Black Flag, The Germs and Bad Brains pressing down on the band's sound. The weight isn't enough to squash C.AARME, but it prevents the band from ever tossing away its ties to punk's past.
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