Aline & The Magic Pear: II

“What is this, grand tigre?,” Aline asked the great beast, her strong voice laced with twirling rivers of confusion and anger while her hair pranced in the warm wind like many wild horses. She was still staring at the strange, white, magical pear, while the voice of Xavier informed her of it’s purpose. “It is an aspect of power that comes to those who are gifted with the sight of compassion and the hearth of fury, to accomplish a great task.

“Pluck it, than whisper unto it’s skein the mission you seek to complete and gift it with a kiss. Then give the fruit to the being you wish to have eat it and with but a single bite, they will have all of that emotion forced into their being, like the venom of a million vipers suddenly crashing in their veins. They will not only feel the emotion, they will also feel the hammer of the memories that crafted those feelings. All of this will slam into them, and the element associated with the emotion will wrack their body, fully. But be warned, for there is a price to be payed”

Aline’s gaze then immediately centered themselves and dived into the oceans of power that constituted the former prince’s grand eyes. For a moment, mortal and genii, female and male, determined and reserved stared into each other, their souls dueling in the divide between them. In the warm air, Aline searched for unpronounced truth hidden in the labyrinth of Xavier’s formidable, regal stare.

But she could only find cool honesty.

“And what is this price?,” she asked.

“The pear will absorb all of the emotion you put into it, an emotion you will never feel again. An emotion that will be as gone as the wind that now whispers across your palms will be in the next three minutes when you decide with finality the course of your predetermined, fatalistic, rouge destiny. And yet still, in this case, only your rage can defeat the ogre.”

Aline listened to Xavier explain the magic and to her slight surprise, she found she accepted the nature of the spell rather easily, for here she was talking to him to begin with. The magic was evident, but that didn’t mean she didn’t comprehend the possible severity of the action that must be done without any less realization as to it’s possible consequences. “I must sacrifice my rage,” she whispered to herself as she lowered her head and wondered what it would be like in the future to never feel anger again.

Would she be less different?

Would she not be as powerful.

Had it not been her anger that had helped her survive in the ogre’s prison for as long as she had?

Had rage really been her saving grace?

She closed her eyes and contemplated this for a second that was scraping at the lashes of eternity before she regained her focus and returned her attention to the tiger prince. “Not only is the life of me and my mother at stake but so are potentially more innocent lives, lives that do not deserve to end by way of the ogre’s violence. Lives full of their own miracles, tribulations, contributions and softer romances that must be felt by the meridians and leylines of this world. So do not lecture me on prices, prince, for I seek to do that which is gracious. And graciousness should never have a price.

“Or, so Aurore once told me,” Aline whispered. She briefly winced at the pain of thinking about her mother, before she once again gazed into the eyes of the tiger. All tears were gone.

“Than go and pick the white pear,” the tiger whispered sternly before he said with great force “and know that I will return to you in the future.” As he said this, a hard breeze rustled through where they stood and as it reached Xavier, he dissipated into a swirl of red pear blossom petals that became a hurricane that stormed the entire clearing. Across the prairies of this strange domain, the petals chased invisible spectres, shooing them away to the fits from whence they came, retreating from the power that surged through the tall grass of the meadows and threatened to destroy them.

Aline walked with renewed strength and confidence to the low branch where the pear hung calmly, past the reach of where Xavier rested while the red blossoms magically circled around her. She then plucked the white fruit and brought it to her lips, so that her breath graced it softly while she spoke. “I wish to kill the ogre.”

Then she kissed it; immediately, there was a flash of blinding light, and Aline again found herself in the beautiful pear orchard where she worked. At first, it seemed as if nothing had changed; the sun was still out and birds were still singing in the brisk April air. She looked around before she realized that she must have simply had a strange reverie; she had not been transported to the dimension of a tiger prince, not at all.

“Pas possible,” she said to herself.

But as she readjusted herself to her everyday surroundings, she became aware that she was holding something in her chill palms. She then looked at her hands and saw that in her grasp, she was holding a pear that glimmered with the fading mystery of a spell most consequential. Certainly, this was the same pear that Xavier had given her but there was a difference; no longer fresh snow white, the pear was now a deep crimson, like blood coated iron. It even pulsed with slight warmth that felt not unlike an ember’s shade, the warmth Aline knew came from her fine, royal rage.

For a moment she did nothing but stare at this lovely ruby crafted from sweet flesh while the songs of sparrows were replaced by the mellow caws of distant ravens.

Then, terrible, shrill shrieking interrupted the brief moment of contemplation. “Girl! I see you have a fruit in your hands! Come here now and face the consequences of your dim, reckless decision!”

Aline snapped back into reality, having zoned off. But though she had regained her senses, it was almost as if her feet were walking on their own accord as she strolled to Brute’s cabin, time seeming to have slowed, not unlike ice sliding across the grass of a meadow. And then she opened the door and let herself in to the ogre’s foul home.

Update-January 18th 2018

Hello all, just wanted to give a quick update. Sorry I have been absent from posting, but I started a new job with crazy hours and just took some time to get used to it. But actual writing pieces will be coming back soon enough.

Additionally, I will be adding some contact info. My goal is to make this site more well known and in order to do that, in part, you have to get the conversation going. I’m just looking at the best options for that.

Anyways, stay warm, everyone. It’s a brisk, rainy winter, so far.

CRASHDOG – OUTER CRUST: THE LAST GREAT PUNK ALBUM OF THE 90S//20TH ANNIVERSARY RETROSPECTIVE

Crashdog’s 1997 release Outer Crust is the last great punk album of the 1990s.

As someone who identifies himself as a punk rocker, I don’t say that lightly. Indeed, depending on how eclectic your taste is, you could say that the 1990s were chock full of amazing punk albums for specific subgenres in a way that future decades would fail to replicate, from RHCP’s Blood Sugar Sex Magic and the Beastie Boys’ Ill Communication being the greatest funk-punk-rap hybrid albums of that decade, to Streetlight Manifesto’s Keasbey Nights and The Suicide Machines’ Destruction by Definition being the decade’s best ska punk albums, all of which regardless are fantastic albums that I love. So it is not my intent to start a flame war-you can take all my opinions with as many grains of salt as you want. And yet, as far as I’m concerned, Outer Crust is equal to Fugazi’s Repeater + 3 Songs as the greatest straightforward, no sass, punk rock album of the 1990s.

This last June marked the album’s 20th anniversary-and this article really should have been put up back then, on the 1st, which was the day of it’s original release. But it wasn’t put up on that day because I was not paying attention to myself and my dedication to writing at the time as much as I am now. And so on this, the final day of 2017, as belated as I am, I find it prudent to celebrate this album, it’s message, and it’s unsurpassed, heavy anarchic sound, as it is a true unspoken masterpiece of an album that deserves far more attention than it currently does.

A little background; Crashdog was one of the first Christian punk rock bands, arriving onto the scene in the late 1980s. Coming out of Chicago, they were based out of Jesus People USA. They were openly political and perhaps because of their location in one of America’s most famous and urban cities, their music had a liberal bent. Maybe that isn’t so out of left field today, but it still feels uncommon to see openly liberal or social-oriented Christian discourse. And yet when I listen to Crashdog’s music, I hear a lot of thought, intelligence and heart. I don’t feel deceived in any way when I read their lyrics, I feel encouraged because I can feel the urgency of when they were written. As someone who was born in the early 90s, my favorite decade, I become fascinated with what this band and the people behind it thought about this era that I was alive for and remember so little about. They spoke out against the GOP, they spoke out against the Yugoslavian civil war, they spoke out for women’s rights, against racism and racial inequality, and they spoke out for marriage as well as many more relevant topics. In summary, all of their music is deeply tied with 90s culture and at the same time immediately hits me with everything I personally am interested in.

The original vocalist, Spike Nard, sang on Crashdog’s first three albums, Humane Society, The Pursuit of Happiness, and Mud Angels, released from 1990-1994. I like these albums but to me they sound a bit more like grunge albums, not the straight punk sound I constantly crave. And while I like Spike himself, I ultimately prefer the voice of the next singer, a certain Andrew Mandell, who had originally played guitar on those earlier albums. 1995’s Cashists, Fascists, and Other Fungus is another good album with some standout hits that unfortunately goes on a little too long. All the while, they played at Cornerstone a few times and kept trucking on with their political and spiritual focus guiding their musical talents. In any case, everyone should also go check out these older albums if they are interested.

And then, 1997 came.

And with it, the release of Outer Crust.

Right off the bat, the cover art of a stylized, polluted cityscape surrounded by impoverished shanties grabs you with it’s stark, haunting atmosphere. A low lying haze of smog lazily floats along and there isn’t a single living person to be seen. I bring this point up because I had an interesting exchange with my uncle when I showed him this cover art. To me, as the viewer, it feels like I’m observing this glistening city that was built on the backs of my fellow, discarded human refuse, and now we’re all pushed out to the barrens, the titular ‘outer crust.’ In my uncle’s opinion however, he felt as if we, the observers, had built a heaven for ourselves as represented by this shining city despite being surrounded by an ugly hell, as symbolized by the shanties. This is a minor point but it’s definitely one of the more interesting debates I’ve had over an artistic piece in awhile.

But after you’re done taking in the art, well, that’s when you hit the play button. A short dialogue sets the scene. The next thing you know, you are immediately thrown into punk rock bliss. As much as I am tempted to go through each individual track and provide a breakdown in the classic review style, I don’t want to, as my hope is for everyone who reads this article to go out, buy this album on the band’s Bandcamp or to go get a physical copy and listen to it for themselves. Suffice to say, this album is a breathtaking, heartbreaking work of 37 minutes of punk rock mastery from beginning to end.

Now, I’ve shown Outer Crust to many people, of all philosophies and walks of life (basically anyone willing to lend an ear). And whenever I, respectfully, try to get one of my atheist or otherwise agnostic friends in particular to listen to this album, I sell it as “the only Christian punk rock album you should ever listen to.” And in order to do that, I bring up two points; the first being that it’s one of those albums where everyone involved, from the musicians themselves to the sound engineers, is firing on all cylinders. I couldn’t really find anything about the specific production of Outer Crust, but just by following the time of release, I can see that this thing took two years to make. But in those two years, Crashdog’s sound completely flipped. Gone were the earlier oi or grunge influences, Outer Crust is an astonishingly heavy, amazing sounding, 100% anarcho, crust punk rock album. And while some of this sound can be traced to a few older songs here or there, Outer Crust is the only Crashdog album that has this sound.

Outer Crust sounds like Crass turned up to 11; the album is blindingly fast, yet every song has a defined, heavy beat. It’s worth noting that the producer of this album (as well as some of the group’s other endeavors) was Steve Albini, which in itself isn’t too surprising given his extensive record and Chicago base. But some of the heaviness here feels in part similar to what you can see on something like his earlier work with Helmet, only better.

This new style of sound definitely comes in part from the fact that somewhere in those two years, Crashdog found a second guitarist to add to their original four piece formula, and the extra complexity immediately and constantly abounds, as Jason Burt and Mike Perlmutter proceed to see who between the two of them can riff and rock into oblivion faster. They are both amazingly on point.

At the same time, as raw as it is, Outer Crust has a very smooth quality to it. Despite being wonderfully down-tuned, it never has the feel of a garage or grunge rock sound. It doesn’t feel grimy in the least, and absolutely no fat is wasted here on the album’s fourteen songs; it is practically one solid stream of consciousness.

There are numerous fantastic punk choruses and while I am not necessarily trying to single him out, I think the aforementioned Andrew Mandell should go down as one of punk’s greatest vocalists. His voice drips with angst, the most important component for any punk singer, yet his vocals are also fantastically layered, clean, and raspy in a way that is amazingly melodic, especially when paired up with the fantastic bass and drum work, courtesy of Brian Grover and Greg Jacques, respectively. His lyrics are direct, immediate, but above all beautifully raw.

Long story short, Outer Crust is a fast, heavy, lean, dance worthy, clean, raw, politically charged, spiritually and emotionally driven powerhouse of an anarcho punk rock album. Do I even have to mention that by 97, nu metal and pop punk (the latter being one of the banes of my existence) had pushed out any chance of something like this ever reaching the mainstream?

Which brings me to my second point, about why this album is so top-notch fantastic.

This album, to me, showcases a band that knowingly or otherwise is on it’s final gasps. The reason why everyone is giving it their all in such an impressive way is because after this, it’s over, not unlike pulling out your last reserves of energy before you cross the finish line in a bike race. I’m not entirely sure what the reason or drama was, but it was nonetheless decisive. A few of the members went on to form the folk punk group Ballydowse, which I unfortunately have some mixed feelings about but is still a great band in it’s own right. There was some sort of statement on their hiatus in 2006, and in 2012, the group briefly reformed to play at the final Cornerstone music festival. There have been a few posts on Facebook, but I believe but that’s been it.

The end.

La fin.

And so, what of the legacy of Outer Crust? What of the legacy of Crashdog? A criminally underrated band putting out a criminally underrated album is far too common to be of some major music industry concern. At the same time, as much as I try to get people to give this album a chance, I will always understand if they’re not comfortable listening to the Christian message, or are just not attracted to heavy music like this. Those last two reasons are totally understandable.

And yet, this is my favorite album of all time.

In fact, one of my goals for 2018 is to memorize all the lyrics to all the songs, it’s that much a part of me. Because of it’s intelligence and sincerity, it has carried me through hard times; because of it’s speed and efficiency, it has become my favorite album to jump rope to; and because of it’s historical association with the era of my birth and insight, in it’s own little way, it has brought me closer to God and becoming a Christian in my own right.

So if there’s one prayer I have, it’s that by highlighting this album in the way that I have, I can do my part to bring it to the attention of someone like me. Someone who needs it at a similar critical moment in their life, which for me was the struggle of trying to graduate from college and get out of the house. Or maybe I can help someone who also considers themselves to be a fellow 90s kid that’s looking back at history and seeks Outer Crust’s social and spiritual perspective. I would tell that person that this album is not a substitute for the Bible itself, of course, but it may serve as a point of interest to help you on your path to greater wisdom, wisdom that comes from on high.

And so, happy 20th anniversary, Outer Crust. I do hope that this article achieves positive attention and traction, so that when we celebrate the 25th anniversary, the name of this album becomes ten times more celebrated. I’d like to give another sincere, thank you very much to all the people involved in it’s production. And of course, thank you God, for showing me punk rock to begin with.

Happy New Years, everyone.