Rocket From The Crypt

(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)

Rocket From The Crypt were the garage-rock band formed by guitarist John �Speedo� Reis of the Drive Like Jehu.

Their first album, Paint As A Fragrance (Headhunter, 1991), stood out mainly for its fidelity to the Los Angeles �beachpunk� model (more Germs than Black Flag) and for its exhilarating openings toward punk-pop: French Guy, Stinker and Jiggy Jig. The two guitars (Reis and Andy Stamets)�indeed, two massive guitars�erect walls of melodic noise at the supersonic pace of the drums (Adam Willard) and bass (Petey �X�).

In truth, the early singles (all later disowned by Reis) did not offer particularly original hardcore. Yum Kippered (Helter Skelter), Jumper K (Sympathy), Normal Carpet Ride (SubPop) and Stu (Merge) overflowed mainly with punk fury and emphasis.

While the Jehu explored the darker sonic recesses and more tormented moods of the new hardcore, the Rocket immersed themselves in the torrid atmospheres of 1960s garages, relying on textbook riffs and choruses. The execution is effervescent and brutal, but the effect is that of a party among friends rather than a frontal assault on the world.

Overflowing with memorable choruses and blazing garage instrumental parts, also thanks to the addition of saxophonist Paul �Apollo 9� O�Beirne, Circa Now (Interscope, 1993) was the masterpiece of that genre. Short Lip Fuser moves through powerful hard-rock riffs repeated in minimalist fashion, but when Reis shouts the chorus it is counterpointed by a Heartbreakers-style choir and a nearly oriental guitar strum. Almost grunge is the drive of Hippy Dippy Do, whose obliquely beat melody is torn apart by a noisy saxophone burst. The rough �jingle-jangle� of the guitars, coiled into a circular waltz-like phrasing, propels the psychedelic fanfare of Ditch Digger, whose crazy nursery rhyme could have come from an early Pink Floyd record. The sax, with its Martian braying, takes center stage in the lascivious tribalism of Don�t Darlene.
Killy Kill, with the headlong tremor of old-time slamdance, Sturdy Wrists, shaken by violent sobs, and Dollar, with all instruments hammering in unison a stormy and epic cadence, highlight a subtle rhythmic intelligence capable of carving choruses out of mined terrain. Then the music stops, and Reis sings into a funnel the fable of Little Arm, alternating with the surreal strumming of a guitar. The album reaches glory with Glazed, the tightly paced, breathless rave-up in which the Fleshtones influence is most evident.

Pigeon Eater continues their string of singles, some of which were collected on All Systems Go (Cargo, 1993).
The Rocket�s sound is thick and intricate, with harmonies densified by the noisy chords of guitars and saxophone�played at full volume with the fury of a barbarian horde�anchored by a feverish rhythm section.

Simultaneously came out the new CD album, Scream Dracula Scream (Interscope, 1995), and the new (mini) vinyl album, Hot Charity (Another Perfect Sounding Vinyl, 1995), following a superb EP, The State Of Art Is On Fire (Sympathy, 1995). Scream Dracula Scream (Interscope, 1995) shifts toward a less angry and more commercial garage-rock. The core of the album consists of a handful of powerful but not especially ferocious songs, whose choruses rely on power-pop syncopations and the counterpoint of rhythm-and-blues horns. Middle, Young Livers, and above all On A Rope orbit near the Fleshtones, save for an extra twenty decibels. The show is now entrusted to production�booming but not frantic (a trumpeter has joined the band). Backing vocals, melodic progressions, and apotheoses of saxophone and trumpet abound. These are songs dripping with sweat, not drool.

Hot Charity is somewhat more visceral, but lacks the twin�s choruses, so that in the end both records turn out to be minor works. Too many empty ye-ye-isms, too many riffs wasted against a wall of horns, too many limping choruses. Cloud Over Branson and Guilt Free are the best tracks.

The songs on RFTC (Interscope, 1998) all sound like covers, verging on parody. The riffs are sharper than ever, the horns press forward recklessly, the drums pound like mad, and the choirs rise solemnly as always. Eye On You, the lead single, borrows the melody from I�ve Got A Line On You; Dick On A Dog resurrects the ghost of Wilson Pickett; Your Touch mimics the Stray Cats revival; and You Gotta Move echoes the exotic ditties of Leiber and Stoller. But the frantic and noisy boogie of I Know, sung in a hoarse voice while guitars, keyboards, and horns rain down all around (a technique reminiscent of Von Lmo), the feverish soul-rock of Made For You, and the acrobatic rock�n�roll of Back In The State are rave-ups that would make even Beethoven dance (to cite the most overused riff, that of Chuck Berry). Many tracks, from Lipstick (a cross between Elvis Costello�s choruses and the Sonics� riffs) to When In Rome, to the final apotheosis of Run Kid Run, rely solely on sheer drive (closer to Bruce Springsteen than to punk-rock) and on layered production (in the tradition of Phil Spector). Still, they deserve credit for indulging in some of the most raucous out-of-tune guitars in punk-rock.

All Systems Go 2 (Swami, 1999) is a collection of unreleased tracks and rarities.

Cut Carefully and Play Loud (Flapping Jet, 1999) is one of their best EPs.