Arizona Daily Wildcat advertising info
UA news
world news
sports
arts
perspectives
comics
crossword
cat calls
police beat
photo features
special reports
classifieds
archives
search
advertising

UA Basketball
restaurant, bar and party guide
FEEDBACK
Write a letter to the Editor

Contact the Daily Wildcat staff

Send feedback to the web designers


AZ STUDENT MEDIA
Arizona Student Media info...

Daily Wildcat staff alumni...

TV3 - student tv...

KAMP - student radio...

Wildcat Online Banner

CD Review: The Distillers

Sing Sing Death House

(Epitaph)

By Adam Pugh
Arizona Daily Wildcat
Tuesday Feb. 19, 2002


Grade:
A

Dictionary.com defines punk as "rock music with deliberately offensive lyrics expressing anger and social alienation." The Distillers' music fits this definition perfectly. Sing Sing Death House is faster, louder and more disgusting than the group's previous release - the Distillers found their sound and are sticking with it.

For some years, the idea and sound of punk has been sorely lacking, especially since most good punk bands haven't had female singers. The Distillers have taken what most people might think punk is and redefined it.

Lead singer Brody Armstrong screams into the microphone with such vengeance and attitude, it sounds like she just woke up from a night of binge drinking - on the verge of being sick, but still holding it together until the end of each song. The group's sound is a far cry from almost every other band on the Epitaph label that spawned the Offspring and Bad Religion. Think of both self-titled albums by Rancid, and you will get a glimpse at what this group can do.

Sing Sing Death Houseis an extension of the group's self-titled debut that was a refreshing wake-up call of how raw music can sound. It's just distorted guitars, fast playing and sloppy vocals, making it sound like the band is practicing in your living room. The stripped-down sound of both albums is a perfect set-up for seeing the band live onstage.

The group is doing its own thing and doing it well. This is an album that is four pissed-off people armed with instruments and eight middle fingers. There will be no squeaky-clean engineering, and there will be no perfect takes. And there will not be any music made with regret. Just anger, frustration and attitude.

ARTICLES

advertising info

UA NEWS | WORLD NEWS | SPORTS | ARTS | PERSPECTIVES | COMICS
CLASSIFIEDS | ARCHIVES | CONTACT US | SEARCH
Webmaster - webmaster@wildcat.arizona.edu
© Copyright 2001 - The Arizona Daily Wildcat - Arizona Student Media