R.I.P. - In the Wind

Cover artwork by Adam Burke.

Take the Steppenwolf classic "Born to Be Wild", dip it in Motörhead, drape it in Saint Vitus and cast it in the reaper's image and you begin to understand the level of badassery that R.I.P. is wielding.

I used to watch the show Sons of Anarchy; the first couple seasons were great. But the thing that always struck me as odd about the beloved biker drama was the largely acoustic folk soundtrack. I can understand the exciting juxtaposition of hauling ass down the highway with a soft or slow song playing to provide a kind of mental drag to make you feel like you're going even faster than you actually are, but come on.

When I'm watching the show I'm not on a hog and I'm not feeling the wind. The show could have used some sonic thrust to convey that cruisin' with attitude and authority thing the directors seemed to be going for. At the very least pick a better theme song, "2 Wheel Nation" by Acid King would have been a nice start. "Ridin' through this world ..." has been the butt of too many of my jokes over the years to take the music of S.O.A. seriously.

Which is the long way around to say that THIS, 'In the Wind', the debut album from self-styled West Coast Street Doom outfit R.I.P. is what the show's been missing.

There are only a handful of true bikersploitation hard rock bands in the pleasantly crowded underground heavy scene and R.I.P. may be the best of them. The concept is fairly straight-forward: take the tone of classic doom and rocket propel it with stomping drums, throbbing bass, broken beer bottles and police sirens until the hand gripping the accelerator moves forward, slowly but surely and the pavement tears.

Nowhere is this ethic more apparent than on the chugging "Smoke & Lightning" and the galloping "In the Wind Part 2", although picking standouts here is futile. And don't bother comparing this trio to Black Label Society. That's like comparing the real life Angels to Samcro.

In my limited personal biker experience, the older bikers that I know still listen to classic rock and the younger ones listen to rap of whatever's on the radio. This is unacceptable. But you and I can help. Inform your local bikers that R.I.P. exists, commandeer the stereo and dam the amplifiers with West Coast Street Doom! No doubt there will be groans of protest and maybe a hurled bottle or two, but once the wind gets moving through the speakers a calming sense of rightness will settle over the affair. Three songs into 'In the Wind' and you may have just re-established a sense of order in this mad, mad, mad world.

When TV bikers cruise to a folk rock backdrop and their real-world counterparts do their thing to a rap soundtrack, there's just a littler something off with the world. R.I,P. and you and I are here to set things aright, alright?

'In the Wind' will be released on March 18 by Totem Cat Records.

R.I.P. on facebook

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Satan's Satyrs - Wild Beyond Belief (album review)

Dear Rock n Roll,

I bet you wonder what the fuck happened to me, huh?  (I'll get to that in a minute) I bet you cried when you got home and saw all my stuff was gone and you realized that I wasn't coming back.  See, that's the problem.  I see now that you lack the confidence to be all that you could be and that you were holding me back.  Sorry if this is all coming out so harsh, but I realize now how PISSED I am at you because I really do care about you, but I see now how you were holding YOURSELF back.  You have so much potential Rock n Roll.  You could go so far in life.  I really believed in you.  In us.  But, you're a pussy at heart.

While you were playing your unplugged acoustic show at the Ironic Name Disco, I got bored and went out back to have a smoke.  That's when I met them.  They were burning down a church and kicking a hobo down the street in a trash can.  They couldn't give a fuck and they don't take any shit.  They were Satan's Satyrs and they were Wild Beyond Belief.  They took me on the back of one of their hogs and since then we've only stopped long enough for me to pick up my shit and write you this letter.  I don't know when we'll ever stop again, probably when they're all in their graves and me along with them.  I'm not suicidal.  Far from it, I've never felt so alive!  But I understand that this is a kamikaze mission, and that's the way it should have been with us, but like I said, you're a pussy.

I saw you standing there that first time, all those years back, staring at me all vulnerable with your piercings and tattoos.  All this time I thought you were the Bad Boy, but I was SO wrong.  I've found a gang of Real Men.  All those weekend nights you wore your "I don't give a fuck" attitude like a costume, then it was back to the office on Monday morning.  The Satyrs walk the walk 24/7.  Do my words hurt you?  Are you going to write a 7-minute long ballad about it?  Satan's Satyrs and me, we don't have time for that shit.  We just get out on the open road and hassle the man, put a good scare into the wage slaves and working stiffs.  We drove a station wagon off the road, into a tree last week and we don't feel any remorse about it, because you always have a choice don't you?  You have a choice in life to be a loser or taste freedom and take what you want from this world at the tip of a blade.  And you made your choice, didn't you Rock n Roll?  Didn't you!  You better hope to your god that we never find you out on the open road.

So I just wrote you to say, you don't cut it for me anymore Rock n Roll.  You never could satisfy me, not really.  You'd always take me right up to the edge, then pull back.  Why?  Was it out of fear?  Fear of the consequences of truly letting go?  That's what freedom is, but I guess you don't get it, do you?  You never could take me all the way and you never will.  I'd like to say I'm sorry for saying these things and that I'm sorry for you, but I'm not.  I'm sorry for me!  All those years wasted with you, when I could have been getting wasted on pure adrenalin with Satan's Satyrs.

Well, I got to go now Rock n Roll.  Bye.  I hope you learn how to let yourself go, take a walk on the wild side and know what it is to truly be alive one day, I really do.  But I can't drag you up to the Satyrs level, you've got to do that on your own.  We've got some puppies to kick, flowers to trample, fake bomb threats to issue, flaming poop bags to leave and chaos to sew.

Later, loser.

P.S., don't try to talk to me if you see me standing outside our old apartment with all my stuff.  The Satyrs told me they'd be coming by to pick me up in 20 minutes.  That was 12 hours ago, but ... they'll be here ... they'll come back for me ... you'll see ...

Highlights include: "Satan's Satyrs" and "Bellydancer's Delight"

Rating: 5/5


Total Run Time: 39:37

Clayton "Claytanas" Burgess: Bass, Vocals
Jarrett Nettnin: Guitar
Stephen Fairfield: Drums

From: Herndon, Virginia

Genre: Biker Doom, Punk

Reminds me of: Asomvel, Blue Cheer, Early Mammal, Electric Wizard, MC5, The Stooges

Release Date: (re-issue on Bad Omen Records) November 1, 2013

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