The Suicide Machines formed in 1991 during grunge’s flannel/heroin peak, and just five years later released their debut album, “Destruction by Definition” for Hollywood Records and said LP is, without hyperbole, one of the top ten ska-punk records of all time… The numbers don’t lie, but you sure do! If that’s too much for you to read, you truly need to face your values head on both inside AND outside, and check your insecurities at the door. So long!
7. Self-Titled (2000)
Self-titled albums are usually either a band’s debut LP, or a back to basics effort years and/or albums later. This one is neither, which makes it quite tough to talk about, especially after the band’s almost perfect breakout first ska-punk LP, and their dark follow-up sophomore hardcore album. This one may have been held in higher regard if it was the band’s first album, but it sadly sounds like a cash grab, which we know is the goal of a major label release, but we’re still mad salty and sour here. Still, we find it extremely hilarious that Disney’s Hollywood Records thought that a band called The Suicide Machines would break into the mainstream like Belle and the Beast, and even more so with this album. In closing, while the first two tracks on this record have stood the test of time, the others sadly haven’t.
Play it again: Tracks 1-2
Skip it: Take your pick from the rest
6. Revolution Spring (2020)
No one, not even Julius Caesar or Harry Potter, was expecting a new The Suicide Machines LP in the 2010s, let alone in the 2020s FIFTEEN years after their truly great album predecessor “War Profiteering Is Killing Us All,” but Jason Navarro and company love to keep ya guessing, and delivered this decade one of the better ska-punk intentionally-or-unintentionally throwback records. The band’s seventh album “Revolution Spring” came out via Fat Wreck Chords six days into Spring 2020, and just days after the Covid lockdowns started, which was a freaking romp of an empty time. Still, despite you thinking that we are eternal contrarians, we really don’t think that cold, cold, cold Detroit is the new hot, hot, hot Miami, even though it may resemble the Whole Foods known as Williamsburg with far more crime right now.
Play it again: “Awkward Always”
Skip it: “Empty Time”
5. Steal This Record (2001)
We’ll get to their most underrated LP later, but “Steal This Record,” the band’s fourth album and last major label release, is certainly The Suicide Machines’ second most underappreciated effort in their seven-album catalog. Funnily, they pulled a Chumbawamba by telling/advising/notifying/commanding people to steal an actual record, which is technically criminal behavior sans honor, that likely cost Hollywood Records six figures to make, which should also be illegal. Stand up if you agree, and provide a killing blow if you don’t. We’re unsure as to what caused the frenetic direction of this full-length, but it definitely sounds angry front to back, and most certainly more so than the band’s third and self-titled studio album. The record also came out fourteen days after the awful 9/11 tragedy, and said disaster put a pin in the band’s first single “The Killing Blow” before it even had a chance.
Play it again: Duran Duran’s “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)”
Skip it: “All The Way”
4. A Match & Some Gasoline (2003)
The fifth LP from The Suicide Machines and their first of two non-major label releases to be released on SideOneDummy Records, former home of the now disgraced Anti-Flag, likeminded Big D and the Kids Table, the impossible to describe Gogol Bordello, and Dio. For many hardcore fans of TSM, this record served as a glorious return to form after its elimination on album #3. The Suicide Machines’ highlight track from this album, which has a surprisingly high number of public streams, “High Anxiety,” is a killer ska-punk anthem, and was even featured on the soundtrack to “Tony Hawk’s Underground 2”… Do you even skate, bro? A cool point to mention is that “A Match and Some Gasoline” is the first of two TSM LPs to be recorded in The Blasting Room by Descendents’ Bill Stevenson, and The Virginia Sisters’/Blood Brothers’ Jason Livermore.
Play it again: “High Anxiety”
Skip it: “Split The Time”
3. War Profiteering Is Killing Us All (2005)
The band’s sixth/last LP for quite some time known as “War Profiteering Is Killing Us All” is the band’s best record from this century and serves as a similar sequel to 2003, like 1998 was to 1996’s for the band in genre form, songwriting prowess, and a tasty, tasty, tasty rectangular pan pizza with a crisp crust, but not a crust punk, hosers. Overall, it is a critique of the bottomed-out George Walker Bush, the meh sequel to George Herbert Walker Bush’s administration, which was very common in the punk rock world between 2000-2008, but The Suicide Machines executed its bitter sentiment better than most. Also, the tune “I Went On Tour for Ten Years And All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt” is not only rad/long/fun/vibey AF, but it is one of the better song titles from a band in the Warped Tour scene.
Play it again: The title track, “War Profiteering Is Killing Us All”
Skip it: “Hands Tied”
2. Battle Hymns (1998)
The Suicide Machines’ sophomore LP “Battle Hymns” is BY FAR their most underrated in their vast catalog, and we would’ve love loved/hate hated to see what the goons on Twitter would’ve said about this one if it was around in the late-’90s, but happily, Elon Musk was doing way cooler things then than his troll high society billionaire shizz now. Please speak no evil about this record, as we can’t take that kind of rejection from you all; sympathy for the devil. As objective/subjective masters of our craft, we theorize that the unjustified hate for this record is because it was such a departure, and even Hollywood Records agreed, despite the fact that they are the premier hardcore punk label in all of, err, Hollywood. Like album #4, the bad babies in The Suicide Machines encouraged theft for this one, which is step one for cockblocking your work.
Play it again: “Someone”
Skip it: “Independence Parade”
1. Destruction By Definition (1996)
Like its three mega conglomerate label sequels, The Suicide Machines’ debut and groundbreaking LP “Destruction By Definition” was produced by their A&R label dude, and revered songwriter Julian Raymond, who also worked with Fastball, Cheap Trick, Mutemath, and Robert Johnson. Mr. Raymond killed it here, and the proof is in the pudding regarding track four, “No Face,” which received radio and MTV play for a lil bit, and in the band’s best song “Break The Glass,” which was on the soundtrack to the Oscar-winning “An American Werewolf in Ann Arbor.” A badass opinion is that the band’s bonus track “I Don’t Wanna Hear It” is a solid ska-punk rendition of your straight edge second cousin’s favorite song. S.O.S.: In closing, B-Rabbit opened for The Suicide Machines at the world-famous St. Andrews Hall in 1996, got booed off the stage, and wept.
Play it again: “Break The Glass”
Skip it: “Vans Song” because of the “club f%g” reference; sorry to be that outlet but we need to face values
If you want some more of The Suicide Machines you can pick up a record in our store:
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Sandy would never become a Trump supporter. He’s a bleeding-heart liberal, from his loafers to those incredibly sexy bushy eyebrows. This is a guy who adopted a kid from Chino, but let’s be fair, it was a White kid, and his own child was kind of a dud. Real Biden voter here.
Surprised that the “Welcome to the O.C., bitch” guy is this far down the list? Sure, he may be a dick, but Luke is the guy who learned to deal with his own homophobic feelings after his dad turned to be a closeted car dealer and then moved to Portland, where we assume he joined a folk-punk band, so he’s probably pretty Blue.
Ryan is exactly the kind of working-class White kid full of resentment and anger you would go straight-up MAGA. But look at his track record: adopted Jewish brother, Latina girlfriend, dead White girlfriend. This kid knows the value of diversity in American culture.
The Dean of Harbor High School has seen some shit. Every student she’s ever seen has OD’d, held someone at gunpoint, or been poor, and she dealt with them all with a fair hand and didn’t even accuse them of being part of a vast pedophile conspiracy. That’s really all we can expect from educators at this point.
Luke’s mom barely appeared in the series, which means that she doesn’t have the screen presence to join something like Moms for Liberty and, by default, isn’t as bad as she could. Count your blessings, gay-cuckolded Mom.
Grandma Cohen would hate Trump with a passion, but don’t think that makes her liberal. She hates estate taxes and would spit on the grave of FDR if she could, and by that, we mean if she could again. She’s really overbearing, but she knows Anti-Semitism when she sees it.
This shameless Lindsay Lohan clone has a “Dennis Kucinich for President” bumper sticker, and her dad is a ruthless capitalist asshole. She could only be an Ivanka-style MAGA icon or go hard in the other direction, and she chose the second one. Plus, she moved to Chicago, which we all know is a Godless liberal hellhole, so she’s for sure not MAGA.
Rebecca Bloom, AKA Sandy’s sketchy college ex-girlfriend, might have killed a man and burnt down a lab, or maybe she didn’t. It’s pretty unclear, unlike her intentions to fuck a married guy she once took a Writing 101 class with. Either way, she refused to narc on the friends who may or may not have burnt down that lab, which differentiates her from pretty much everyone in Trump’s inner circle. She’s a scumbag (probably), but not that kind.
This one is surprising because you’d think that Marissa Cooper’s even wilder younger sister would be asshole enough to, at the very least, start voting hardcore racist Republican because the boring white guy she inevitably settles down and marries would force her to. However, she’s actually more likely to end up being married to Trump someday, which would mean she would hate his guts with a fire previously unseen in this world.
Dennis Childress (or “Chili,” as his buddies hated to call him) is your classic SoCal surfer dude: blonde and with a dead best friend. Plain and simple, this guy is too much of a dope even to be aware of politics, let alone a rabid white Christian nationalist movement to remove power from elected officials and place it in the hands of grifters. He’s too busy hanging ten, bro.
Much like her daughter Kaitlin, socialite mom Julie Cooper seems like she would be an automatic MAGA voter. She loves money, is willing to fuck old men, and hates poor people. However, she’s smart enough to recognize a scumbag when she sees it and probably isn’t even registered to vote. Voting is for Chino scum.
Holly Fischer was Marissa and Summer Roberts’ best friend at the beginning of the series, but she just couldn’t stop fucking Luke’s brains out at any opportunity. In all honesty, Holly would probably show up at a few MAGA rallies if she heard there were yard-long margaritas there, but her heart wouldn’t really be in it.
The Latin community in the United States has a depressingly deep conservative streak, which raises the possibility that Ryan’s old girlfriend in Chino could have headed that direction. On the other hand, she was not okay with being physically abused by a domestic partner, which puts her at odds with one of the primary standards of the modern GOP.
Summer’s dad is Orange County’s premiere plastic surgeon and a devoted father who has spent his adult life ensuring that his children are cared for, feel appreciated, loved, and respected, and grow up with a solid sense of self. What we’re saying is that he and Trump probably don’t have a lot in common other than elective surgery.
Surfer girl Casey’s only purpose on the show was to cheat on her boyfriend with a different surfer and get angry at Marissa for being prettier than her. To be honest, we’re going to guess she’s not very conservative nowadays because she died of a meth overdose in 2008.
Alex Kelly was the bad girl of the O.C. social scene, which basically means she had purple streaks in her hair and dated women sometimes, which would barely qualify her as a chaotic-neutral girl these days. She’s too contrarian to really have a cohesive political stance beyond “you suck,” so she’d probably be a Bernie voter these days.
Speaking of chaotic, Hailey Nichol is another of Orange County’s trademark wild child types lashing out against a rich daddy, or a Tiffany Trump, if you will. While many rebels end up going neo-con when they (figuratively) grow up, Hailey managed to find enough stability over the course of the show to be judgmental about others, which makes her a perfect Hillary voter.
The younger brother of Luke, this California funboy somehow had less personality than anyone but his twin brother Eric. When his older brother moved to Portland to be indoctrinated by hippie liberals, Brad stayed behind to uphold his legacy of being the biggest idiot on the beach. Undoubtedly, he could not name the current President if his life depended on it, let alone figure out what “MAGA” stands for.
See above, but flip the names.
Heather with no last name once helped kidnap Marissa, helping to trigger the events that (spoiler!) led to her death, but also managed to realize maybe she shouldn’t be helping evil people out of resentment for others. We like to think she enrolled in community college, currently works as a vet tech, and isn’t “very political.”
Gordon “The Bullet” Bullit is a wealthy Texas oilman and, as such, probably has some unpleasant views about race and which ones are best. However, he’s willing to ‘fess up that he’s done some prison time and probably would get along terribly with the Trump family, so he’d probably back whoever the current-day equivalent of Ross Perot is, just for kicks. Beto, maybe?
Coming in last is this latter-day R.L. Stine entry. A snowman in Pasadena? I don’t need to read to know that makes absolutely no sense.
This one actually got me closer than any book on the list to wishing I could read, but once a friend told me the book didn’t actually teach you how to fly I couldn’t possibly care less. The picture on the cover isn’t even cool, what’s the point?
I don’t need to know how to read to know that something called “Ghost Camp” is a lazy, derivative rehash of well-worn horror tropes not worth going through all the trouble of learning the difference between consonants and vowels.
Pretty cool cover art, but when you think about it, the skin is like the least scary part of the werewolf. It’s the fur, fangs, and claws that do all the heavy lifting fear-wise. Pretty astute breakdown from an illiterate huh? Alexa, add thinky face emoji.
Hmm, maybe because they sting? Wow, look at that, I solved the case! And all without reading a single word ever in my life. It’s almost like Mrs. Hoopler was wrong and wasted her time trying to “get through” to me.
It’s got a bunch of rad dinosaurs on the cover, which was pretty cool in the zeitgeist at the time, but thankfully Jim Henson came out with a little TV show called “Dinosaurs” so kids like me didn’t need to read to enjoy them. That man did so much for children!
Honestly, there are way cooler-looking mummies on other Goosebumps books. Swing and a miss as usual Scholastic.
As a boy my father would sometimes bring me to job sites and help take down fencing, to build character. He assured me that this was just for appearances because poors liked that kind of thing, and I didn’t really need to do anything. Still, I hated it, because sometimes we would be working at people’s homes, and there would be lawn gnomes. Who were they? Why did they look so smug, what did they want?! I thought if I knew how to read this book could give me some insight, but then Dad got me a new BMX and I forgot all about it.
I do love werewolves, but you know how it is. You sit down to learn to read and it’s all “conjugate this” and “pluralize that” and aaaah, it’s just a mess. Thank god for generational wealth.
From what I gleaned during lunchroom chatter, this one’s about two boys who visit the Tower of Terror. As a lifelong Disney season pass holder I firmly say “Big deal.”
Put it back on the shelf as soon as my friend Tommy read the title for me. If the book was boasting that it COULD scare me, that would be something, but this? Man, why does anyone learn to read?
The giant ant on the cover is badass, but I know a dumb title when I hear it. “Shock Street?” Really R.L. Stine? I don’t want to tell you how to do your job, because you are an author and I am a well-to-do functioning illiterate, but you can do better.
This one had me intrigued. My mother insisted that I take piano lessons and I hated them. I thought that maybe armed with the knowledge in this book’s pages I could make the case that piano lessons were dangerous, and she would stop making me go. Luckily, she became clinically depressed before any of that happened, and stopped taking me.
Double threat! Ghosts are scary, headless dudes are scary, a headless ghost?! Super scary. At least that was my initial thought. Then, as I approached the Scholastic checkout, I couldn’t help but think “Is this overkill?” A headless ghost is sort of a hat on a hat. Or, rather, a lack of hat on a lack of head? I don’t know, either way, nothing worth learning an entire written language for.
It’s like how Mrs. Hoopler wished I would start learning to read, and I never did. See? You don’t need to be literate to understand metaphors.