By Fen Hsiao
Arizona Daily Wildcat April 16, 1996
This review might be a little late, but during the
middle of the first side of the Motards' self-titled album, I noticed a mysterious breeze, and, looking up, watched my window blinds come crashing down on top of my record player and my brand-new record. I didn't play the record again for like a month. However, after hearing them at a live concert a few weeks ago and listening to repeated playings of the record since, I now realize the traumatizing window-blinds event is not so unusual when dealing with the sounds of the Motards.
Rumored to be the craziest live band in Texas, the Motards are banned from playing several venues, even in the band's own town of Austin, Texas. What I saw for myself up in Phoenix at Eastside records - and I can't think of many other bands that could have this effect - was uptight garage boys tossing aside their glasses in blissful abandon, pushing their way through the crowd (OK, sadly, it wasn't really that big) to willingly crash shoulders with rooster-headed "punks" in true chicken-dancin' spirit. I even saw the usually reserved Tony "Little Dog" drunkenly grab the mic to join in on the Motards' Supercharger (best band in the universe) cover. Beer was flyin' as I was forced to take cover in back, attempting to shield myself from waving fists and spiked jackets.
Recorded by the lending hand of Tim Kerr, who I understand has just recorded a new Fells single, the album contains all the spirit and jacked-up punk rock that is the Motards. Song titles include "You Make Me Sick," "Gotta Get Drunk" and "Hangover." I'm told lead singer John Wilson can be found after shows, lying facedown, drunk, in the streets, which might be your own condition after listening to this piece of vinyl. This is something for both your Makers lover and your Circle Jerks T-shirt-wearing fan.