NEW YORK – Employees of boutique consulting firm PayIt were shocked today when Bret Michaels showed up demanding an interview in response to their job posting for “office rockstars,” confirmed multiple star struck sources.
“He was dressed really professionally. Well, except for the bandana,” said PayIt HR manager Jean Port. “When I initially wrote the listing I was just hoping to delude some people into thinking this low-paying data entry job was similar to a rock n’ roll lifestyle, but then Bret Michaels shows up and throws a chair through our window while belting out the chorus to ‘Talk Dirty to Me.’ It was pretty sick to witness, but his Excel skills leave a lot to desire.”
Despite initial awkwardness in the interview, Michaels proved more than ready to jump headfirst into the company.
“I dominated that interview,” said the Poison frontman as he began searching Bumble for women aged 18-25. “They asked me if there was any time I faced adversity and had to overcome it. Shit man, all the time. This one time Tommy Lee and I were Eiffel Towering this groupie when suddenly he throws up all over her back. I acted quickly and got some paper towels before she could even notice. The interviewer loved that story. Said it was just like what they do here every day. Frankly I’m excited that my rock star experience is finally going to get me a job, because they wouldn’t take me at Quiznos.”
PayIt leadership expressed excitement at the prospect of bringing the “Rock of Love” alumnus to their team.
“Bret is an absolute dynamo and will be a great addition to the team,” said COO Rachel Dyth. “When you get Bret you get a guy who works hard for what he’s got. He’s shown a willingness to work, learn, and improve that we just wouldn’t see from someone like Jon Bon Jovi. You bring Bon Jovi in here and he spends his days browsing the internet and commenting on NextDoor. Bret Michaels puts his nose to the grindstone each and every day in a way that David Lee Roth would never even consider. He also brings some pretty great hookers in.”
At press time, Michaels was seen housing a handle of Evan Williams while watching a YouTube tutorial on VLookups.
Safe to say GG never flushes, and we’d somehow have to buy toilet bowl cleaner weekly instead of our usual once every four years.
Proud Boys are notorious for not doing dishes because according to them, “that’s a woman’s job.” Plus, he’d have Fox News on in the background all day long and always try to get me to storm government buildings with him. I simply do not have the energy for all that.
Morrissey would call a nightly house meeting to air his grievances but always cancels at the last minute. Then he’d ask where we all were for the meeting. Listen, if anyone’s going to gaslight in this household it’s going to be me to the electric company.
Bono would hang one of those “in this house we believe” signs on the front lawn before pleading with the county to get the affordable housing unit to be built two towns over instead of down the street. Plus, he’d always be asking me to sign weird petitions.
Don’t ask me how I know but this man does zero chores.
Jack White seems like he would give me a very demand-y tour rider before moving in. But I just don’t have the time to cut the crust off of his peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for him. I’ve got TV shows to catch up on.
It doesn’t matter how many Post-it notes of my name are on my leftover meatball parmesan sandwich in the fridge, Fat Mike is going to finish it without my consent. Then he’s going to complain that it wasn’t very good and that I should’ve gone to the place across the street instead.
Rob would always be asking to borrow money because he just has to have some rare prop from “The Munsters” TV show that he’s currently bidding on. While I agree that the Eddie Munster suit looks would go perfectly with the Lily Munster gown collectible he already has, is it really worth $15,000?
Tim wouldn’t believe someone would throw out a perfectly good mattress he found on the sidewalk. Only to realize three days later that the stained Serta is infested with bed bugs that, according to him, will “probably work itself out.”
Henry would be a total nightmare during board game night. I don’t even want to envision the tantrum we would have to endure if he lost at Settlers of Catan. He’d also somehow know rules for games that aren’t even in the instructions.
Billy just seems like he would never let me turn the heat on in winter and remind me that I forgot to shut off the kitchen light after I left. Just let me drain my bank account on basic utilities in peace.
Julian would always be leaving hair in the sink. Not the bathroom sink. The kitchen one. We all know strands of hair belong in the shower, not the sink.
He’d be fine roommate-wise, but I wouldn’t be able to bring Dave anywhere because he’d always ask to see the manager at every establishment we visit. Our weekly Dave and Buster’s visit is going to be completely ruined by this guy.
John sang a lot about love, so he would definitely be the kind of person who would hang a “Live, Laugh, Love” sign in every room. He’d swear it just goes well with his “But First, Coffee” sign in the kitchen.
Anthony would put the toilet paper roll on backwards and call that “California style.” I’m not rearranging my entire life for any member of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Maybe Flea.
Trent seems like the kind of guy who breeds dogs on the side. He would of course do this in the living room when I’m trying to watch “Succession.” All I ask is that I don’t watch animals procreate while Brian Cox is on the screen.
The lead singer of Rush is for sure a sword guy, which means he’ll be late on rent again this month because he just had to get the Game of Thrones replica Heartsbane Damascus imported from Iceland. Can’t you just get the store-brand one?
Ian is the most straight edge person in existence, which is totally cool, but he’s probably going to give me a stern lecture for taking Advil to relieve my headache. I prefer not to hide my ibuprofen dependence from the people I live with.
Chris seems like a very sensitive person. That’s totally fine, but there are only so many times I can hear about how he thinks he pissed off the Rite-Aid cashier because he asked if she could break a 20-dollar bill. I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, Dashboard.
Sure, he’d get annoying pretty quickly since he would call me a yuppie every time I had to go to my job at the warehouse, even though he doesn’t work at all, but he could probably talk a home invader out of stealing my laptop while we were tied up. Or at the very least, irritate the crap out of them until they flee.
A bad Smoking Popes album is hard to make, but after a decades long hiatus the boys in SP finally reunited and managed to create one craptastic piece of forgettable schlock. I’d like to say that “Stay Down” has its moments, but even after relistening to this album an hour ago I cannot recall what any of them were. So here it is – the bottom of the barrel. Don’t worry it gets much better after this.
“Return to form” is not a strong word because, if you look closely, it’s actually three words. But still, “This Is Only a Test” is a strong return to form for a band that clearly had some shit to work through (*see above entry for reference*). It may not have the same charisma as some other SP records, but the sound and the feeling you’re familiar with is right there, and that for sure makes this album a respectable offering.
“Get Fired” sounds like the feeling of wanting to punch your guidance counselor who is right about you. It sounds like the high school breakup that at the time seemed like everything but, in hindsight, could have been an email. It sounds like if Jawbreaker hadn’t gone to college. You get it – it’s a good album and you should absolutely experience it, but rest assured that better things await you later on.
Technically, this is a studio album. However, it’s only a studio album because Smoking Popes needed something to get out of their Capitol Records contract and quickly shat out a handful of unreleasable (until years later) covers to fill out their contractual obligations and give a middle finger to the label execs, which personally I respect a lot. So for that reason, and the fact that most of these covers are actually really fucking solid, “The Party’s Over” gets an honorable mention.
This album is kinda fucked up. Not in a bad way, but it’s definitely got a different feeling than any other Smoking Popes album. It sounds heavier, and longer, more intricate instrumentation augments the band’s iconic “woe the fuck is me” lyrical mentality. Ultimately, it feels like they took a big gamble on “Into the Agony” and we can all be grateful that they pulled it off.
The title “Destination Failure” feels like as much a description of the band’s own self-image as it was a prophecy of their musical future. In this way the album could almost be heard as the last, experimental death cry of a band who could feel control slipping away from them and decadent to turn fully into it. Much like a tour bus crash “Destination Failure” is tragic, beautiful, reflective and, in hindsight, completely unavoidable when you steer into the skid.
Without “Born To Quit” soundtracks for ‘90s coming-of-age comedies would be nearly nonexistent. “Tommy Boy,” “Angus,” “Boys,” and “Clueless” all include at least one Smoking Popes from this album, making them the Smash Mouth of mid-nineties movies that tell teenagers it’s okay to be themselves. Fuck, you could put that seem distinction on punk rock as a whole – and likewise, “Born To Quit” encapsulated that ideal perfectly.
A comeback album of sorts, “Roses” marked the band’s first studio album after an eleven-year hiatus. There’s nothing wrong with “Roses” of course. By and large, every Cranberries album is very enjoyable, and songs like “Tomorrow” and “Schizophrenic Playboy” are easy contenders for top-tier songs by the band. But still, there’s nothing really super groundbreaking here. But still, it’s important to remember this one came out in 2012 when the world had just crawled through the hazy fever dream of “party rocking” and badly needed an aspirin and an Egg McMuffin. The kind only the lilting sounds of the Cranberries could provide.
If there’s one thing you can say for “To the Faithful Departed,” it is probably the darkest-sounding Cranberries album. But still, that doesn’t stop it from sounding like a step down from the risk-taking perfection of “Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?” or the lyricism of “No Need to Argue.” There are some wonderful songs, to be sure. “Hollywood,” is a dark and rocking, banshee shriek of an opener, while “When You’re Gone” and “Free to Decide” are back-to-back slices of perfection and “Electric Blue” combines experimental rock with Celtic music and old-school Gregorian chanting. Like a mass held by the Priest from “Fleabag.” Still, other songs feel like steps away from the band’s best output. “Salvation,” for instance, feels a bit like a DARE lecture with punk music accompanying it. And other sections of the album just seem to drag, like a migraine you can’t quite shake, even by mid-day. The kind where you think it’s gone for twenty minutes or so at a time, but then it comes back and you think to yourself: “Should I take another Tylenol? I’ve had three already today and I don’t wanna push it, but it’s one of those ones that’s right behind my eyes.” It’s sinus. Don’t bother. Blow your nose. Drink some water. You’ll be okay by tonight. Anyway… it’s a fine album. We just wish it were… finer.
We have a soft spot for acoustic covers of classic songs. And “Something Else” does a great job at just that. Really, the seventh studio album by the group is a greatest hits piece, but more than drunken regurgitation, this album is sort of a Frankenstein-ish re-working (and sometimes improvement upon) the band’s first four LPs (as well as a few new ones). “Linger” and “Just My Imagination” sound incredible when scored with violins and acoustic guitars, and “Dreams” and “When You’re Gone” take on entirely new vibrance in their re-workings. Meanwhile, the album’s high point is a brand new song called “The Glory,” a beautiful, autumnal piece we could listen to again and again. (Note, to all writers, it’s a fantastic piece of writing music.) Still, not every song fares quite as well from the all-acoustic treatment. Some songs by the band are so punk that the acoustic treatment strips them a little. “Zombie,” for instance, while not at all bad as a folk song, definitely misses something in not having its hard abrasiveness.
The Cranberries have always been gifted at conjuring up familiar pain. This album does it as well as any, even in its opener, “Never Grow Old.” Melancholy piano music plays as O’Riordan sings: “I had a dream, strange it may seem, it was my perfect day. Open my eyes, I realize, it was my perfect day.” There’s something ghostly, otherworldly about that sentiment that pervades through “Wake Up and Smell the Coffee,” even in the most punkish songs like “Analyze” and the titular track. Ultimately, the whole thing plays out like one raucous day, and a beautiful, raucous send-off before the band’s eleven-year hiatus. Sure, it’s not always the most original sound. “Analyze” sounds a bit like if Blondie all went to Catholic school, with only the most ruler-happy of nuns before revolting and “Time is Ticking Out” echoes the concerns of “Zombie” and “Free to Decide” in ways that don’t quite live up to either. But still, it’s the band’s most profoundly underrated album and one that’s always worth a listen. We should all wake up and smell the coffee. But make ours with oat milk, please. Because even though we’re punk here at The Hard Times, the dairy makes us feel crumb-crumb in our tum-tum.
2019 is a ghost of a year now. Four years ago (at the time of writing this) feels both like yesterday and an endless ocean away. It was a year of ghosts in music too. Like Leonard Cohen’s hauntingly beautiful and spare “Thanks For the Dance,” “In the End” was released after the death of its central creative force, in this case, over a year after the death of Dolores O’Riordan. O’Riordan had completed most of the vocals prior to her death and after a brief period of mourning, the band took to the studio to finish the musical accompaniments. It worked. Beautifully. This album feels like a warm hug, a visit from a friend you thought you’d never see again. The lyrics are appropriately dark, as if O’Riordan knew that she wouldn’t live to see the record’s release. Songs like “Lost,” “A Place I Know” and “All Over Now” are almost haunting. Sonically, it feels like a throwback to the very beginning, longing, pain and politics all blend together for a gorgeous listening experience. One that proves that even in death, O’Riordan would always do things on her own terms.
Being a Cranberries fan means going through phases: Phase One is discovering the band through “Zombie.” Phase two is listening to other big singles, your “Lingers,” your “Dreamses” your “Odes to my Family.” Phase three is realizing that “Zombie” is just scratching the surface of how good The Cranberries can actually be. Just think about that, if any other band wrote “Zombie” it would be there best song by a country mile, but with the Berries, it’s just firmly in the top ten. Still, “No Need to Argue” is a stone-cold classic. Songs like “Twenty-One” or “I Can’t Be With You,” are undeniably great. But it does fall short of our number one slot.
Yes, and now on to number one, it’s… (record scratch) Wait, what? WHAT? “Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?” isn’t the BEST album by the Cranberries? I suggest we boycott The Hard Times without delay, publish the addresses of the writers and editors, have them tarred, feathered, and run out of town. We all know you’re about to start piss-babying in the comments like we know y’all like to do. To that, we say: Search your feeling. You know it to be true. For one thing, don’t you think it would be boring if a band as legendary as this really made their first record their best? You don’t. Oh, well fuck us then. Listen, this is a brilliant record. It’s infallible. It’s one of the most perfect debut LPs imaginable. From the very first song, the witchy “I Still Do,” an ominous portent of O’Riordan’s own untimely death, the band’s sound was sophisticated and established. This album contains “Linger” and “Dreams,” two of the most famous songs of all time, and the unappreciated but incredible “Sunday,” which we here at The H.T. like to brag that “we liked before TikTok did.” We would never offer a slight against this album except to say that portions of it (even phenomenal songs like “Waltzing Back” and “Wanted”) feel slllllliiiiiiightly undercooked. But that’s forgivable, of course. So why is it only at number two? Well, that’s because of…
Yes. That’s right. Dark horse over here. “Bury the Hatchet” has come in at number one of the list. But before you have us all pressed to death as witches and heretics, let us defend our choice. “Bury the Hatchet” represents, to us at least, the peak of what the Cranberries were doing in the ‘90s. This album perfectly combines the subtle, yearning of O’Riordan’s lyrics, the haunting quality of her voice, the gorgeous instrumentation, and the driving, punkish intent. Songs like “Animal Instinct” and “Just My Imagination” are endlessly enjoyable throwbacks to the band’s influences, groups like Fleetwood Mac. Meanwhile “Loud and Clear” and “Desperate Andy” showcase punk playfulness and “Saving Grace” and “You and Me” feature a kind of beauty beyond beauty. It’s a subtle, beautiful, enjoyable, and mature album. One that shows the band was capable of growth and depth. That’s why we have it at number one.
El Paso, Texas has more than meth, fam. Forming in 1994, the year that punk broke, Western Texas’ own At the Drive-In put its own original stamp on the aggressive music world with a frenetic and sweaty bang, winning fan-by-fan over with their extremely buck wild live show and oft-difficult to pronounce song titles. The band released two full-length albums and four EPs this century before its 2000 break-out LP “Relationship of Command,” imploding shortly after, reforming, breaking up again, coming back together, and finally going on a possibly permanent hiatus in 2018. That’s a lot of skips on the record, but we still spin The Mars Volta more than Sparta.
Drive Like Jehu is easily the least major-label sounding band to cut a record for a huge conglomerate group, and that’s post-hardcore as all get out; up the post-hardcores! Essentially a San Diego punk rock supergroup consisting of Mark Trombino on drums, John “Swami” Reis of Rocket from the Crypt on lead guitar, and more, Drive Like Jehu put its own angular stamp on the genre with 1994’s never-hated-upon-record-even-by-your-bitter-ass “Yank Crime.” It certainly is criminal behavior that this LP was the band’s swan song, and even sadder that another one will never come out; R.I.P. to DLJ and Hot Snakes vocalist Rick Froberg, who passed away earlier this year.
Real talk: Sacramento’s Far is tied for the most underrated band on any emo/post-hardcore list ever written along with the last band to be mentioned in this piece back and to the left. Scroll down any time that you want, Johnny! Anyway, forming in 1991, the year that grunge broke, Far released four LPs and one EP in the ‘90s to a lot of underground acclaim. However, despite the group releasing two of its albums on a major label, not many outside of the post-hardcore scene heard the group. 1998’s “Water & Solutions” is a masterpiece, and we don’t use that word unless we mean it; stop overusing superlatives, dweebs. In closing, Far created the ultimate post-hardcore blueprint record that sadly got an abundance of high praise a tad too late. Such is the system.
Rising from the ashes of ‘80s post-hardcore forefathers Rites of Spring and Embrace, the latter of which came from the legendary and incomparable Minor Threat, Washington, D.C.’s revered four-piece Fugazi formed in 1986, and released its first full-length in 1990. If you claim post-hardcore-DIY-till-you-die credibility, you’re obnoxious by trade and definition, but certainly know that it is illegal and punishable by hourly ridicule to spout a negative word about this band, and we are more than cool with such smug elitism and rigid rules for being a punk. Every single popular rock group that you truly, truly hate claims and namechecks Fugazi as a major influence in more ways than one, leading to the questions, “Why?” and “How?” Shut the door.
The band’s band Helmet formed in NYC in 1989, and released its first four critically acclaimed full-lengths in the ‘90s to modest sales and an ardently loyal fan base. Still, like pretty much all of the fifteen rock and roll groups on this here list, Helmet should be as large as its influence is, even if you despise some or all of the early-aughts rapping goons in white tank tops. If you’re reading this post-hardcore piece, you likely do, cool kid.
If you like a large side of atmospheric space with your generous ‘90s post-hardcore helping, then Champaign, Illinois’ Hum is for both you and Tom Hanks’ character in Apollo 13. The band reunited in 2020 for a record just after Covid took the airwaves, but released four albums from 1991-1998, the last two of which are classics to both hipsters and alternative rock heads. Although we hate the stupid, smelly, and just plain rude word “shoegaze” for more than fifteen reasons, Hum is a Mount Rushmore act in that immaturely named genre. Come home soon.
When the first of two bands listed here starting with “Jaw” known as Jawbox broke up, some of its members formed a band called Burning Airlines. There is a joke below about this clever statistic in the next section that is so witty, you are gonna plotz. Anyway, Washington, D.C.’s Jawbox released all four of its full-lengths in the 1990s to hardcore Dischord Record fans and major label rock heads, if the latter one is a thing. Jawbox had a strong influence amongst bands as well, as their catchy single “Savory” from 1994’s “For Your Own Special Sweetheart” was covered by the aforementioned Far and the-influenced-by-all-bands-listed-above-and- below-and-illegal-to-dislike Deftones. In a weird and unpredictable flex, the band played its first show since its 1997 breakup on “Late Night With Jimmy Fallon” in 2009 before splitting up again, and reforming ten years later. We’re still scratching our heads at that one.
When the second of two bands listed here starting with “Jaw” known as Jawbreaker broke up, one of its members formed a band called Jets to Brazil. Jets to Brazil. Burning Airlines. Jawbreaker. Jawbox. Coincidence? Possibly the largest band on this list, Jawbreaker released three independent record favorites before its final and most hated major label 1995 album “Dear You” pissed off punk rock fans more than The Offspring ever could. Proving that all things must pass, the same posers who scoffed at said record that broke up the band now sing its praises en masse. We see you, oysters. Who’s punk? What’s the score?
Like we mentioned in the intro, knowing our extremely intelligent and never critically off-base audience, all fifteen bands listed here suck ass and/or don’t fit the post-hardcore mold, in any way, shape, or form. However, this one may top the list of our questionable gaffes. Our bad. You’re good. Fugazi isn’t the only band listed here to rise from the ashes of a notable hardcore punk group, as Orange 9mm featured a former member of Burn, an underground cult favorite NYHC aggressive act. Also, Orange 9mm brought a different swag and groove to the sometimes uniform post-hardcore world, and it’s tragic that the band didn’t last that long. Plus, the band has a song called “Toilet”.
All hail Walter Schreifels from every single rock band that ever formed prior to and post-post-hardcore not listed here! You’re a gem. If you like Walter’s older act Gorilla Biscuits but wished that they were a tad more metal with a far less posi vocalist, then Quicksand is the act for you, but you already knew that! If not, why are you here? Not cool, bro(s). Anyway, acclaimed indie label Iodine Records recently repressed Quicksand’s debut major-label 1993 studio album “Slip” on vinyl and post-hardcores across the globe that likely don’t own a record player rejoiced. Head to wall.
Much like the Orange 9mm, the unintentionally listed number 9 act mentioned above, this might be a more polarizing entry due to its strong influence on nu-metal and other things you hate, but we don’t care: Refused rocks harder than you and you’re not as post-hardcore as you think you are, pleeb. Possibly the most revered album on this list, 1998’s “The Shape of Punk to Come” was an accurate and strong sonic statement, but the band didn’t get to taste the fruits of its collective labors as it disbanded later that very year. The fact that the group literally refused (low, low hanging fruit) to make new noise (even lower, lower hanging fruit) together again till 2012, fourteen years later, is a travesty. Go ahead, give yourself permission to scream, and watch the scene in 2004’s “Friday Night Lights” film that features “New Noise” if you don’t believe us.
For those of you who need a wallop of sensitivity with your rough-around-the-edges post-hardcore, then do we have the band for you: Sense Field. The word “sweet” doesn’t get justifiably mentioned enough with acts of this ilk, but Jon Bunch’s smooth vocals definitely provide some sugar and smiles to the regular aggressive music listener. Fiesta. Releasing three full-lengths in the ‘90s, the band didn’t have much commercial and radio success until the following decade with 2001’s “Save Yourself,” but the group broke up not too long after. This section of the article doesn’t contain much wit or humor as Bunch left this world in 2016. Thankfully, the band’s material got a new lease on life, especially 1996’s brilliant “Building,” which, in light of things, you should spin right now.
We’re wrong. This is a straight up punk band. Actually, you’re wrong. This is a post-hardcore act in a straight up punk world. Save it. Like the band mentioned in the last section and one yet-to-be-mentioned later, the power trio known as Shades Apart was an integral part of the highly influential Revelation Records roster. Try saying those last three words starting with “R” five times fast; spoiler alert: you can’t. Showing that the band is so much more than their rockin’ “Tainted Love” cover, spin the band’s final Revelation Records LP, 1997’s “Seeing Things” from beginning-to-end and immediately put on 1999’s Universal Records’ major label debut “Eyewitness” for all twelve tracks. Thank you, New Jersey! Thank you, New Jersey?
Listen to “In Utero”. If you don’t understand this reference, stop reading this right now and reevaluate your rock cred on Google just before shitting yourself. If you do, stop reading this article right now and book a session with Steve Albini to record your awful band, as he won’t take any royalties! Ready to move on? Good! Shellac’s 1994 LP “At Action Park” is a noisy post-hardcore album that is a solid combo of two acts referenced above, Drive Like Jehu and Quicksand. It is also quite similar to an early-90s trip to New Jersey’s dangerous and surprisingly popular Action Park; watch 2020’s painful and wtf-worthy documentary “Class Action Park” if you don’t believe us. Furthermore, the awesome trio known as Shellac should be called Shred-lac. Yeah.
Along with entry number three, the aforementioned (and a-far-mentioned) Far, the band known as Texas is the Reason should’ve been much, much bigger than the four-piece actually was. Sadly, the group released just one album before calling it a day one year after its release, and in a crazy twist of fate, the band was just about to sign with Capitol fucking Records for a follow-up (and more). How post-hardcore is that? Damn the man. To end this piece on an upper, 1996’s “Do You Know Who You Are?” is unquestionably (get it?) a perfect album from track one to nine, and is the highest selling LP on Revelation Records, every little girl’s dream.