Review: Don Broco “Amazing Things”

Posted on by John Danek

Usually when it’s time for The Hard Times to review an album, one of our editors hunts down a writer and gives them a noogie until they tap out and agree to listen to new music. This time, the process was a little different.

I was flipping through my mail, ignoring the usual junk like coupon mailers and loan default notifications when something caught my eye: a gold envelope sealed with wax addressed “To: Fake Punk.” Whoever this was, they knew me well.

The contents of the letter simply stated that The Don requests my unique album-reviewing acumen; I should wait for a ride near the jungle gym at the park at midnight. Considering that I just finished binging all of “Murphy Brown” and that nothing else was popping up on my social calendar, I went.

A gold car picked me up and demanded I wear a bag over my head. Little did they know, I’m into that sort of thing. But after a 45-minute drive, I was ushered out of the car. Someone ripped the bag off and I was in a large dining room. A cloaked figure sat at the head of a table and spoke.

“I, The Don, leader of the Broco Family, summoned you here to review my boys’ album Amazing Things. You will listen.” He dropped the needle on the record player and it played. 47 minutes later, after the last notes decayed into oblivion, The Don spoke again.

“So Fake Punk, what do you think?”

And I replied the only way I knew how: honestly. I said that it kinda sounded like back when Muse were sorta good, like that song “Hysteria.” That whole “Absolution” album was decent, right? After that, they started to sound like focus-grouped rock for Monster Energy addicts. No offense to Muse, get that bag. But-

“SILENCE, WORM! You’ve rambled for long enough.” But little did The Don know that I won’t let anyone speak to me like that unless I’m paying them specifically to do so. I ran up and ripped his cloak off. It was The Hard Times’ Editor-in-Chief Bill doing his terribly offensive Italian-American accent! He grabbed me and gave me a noogie until I agreed to review Simple Plan’s latest record.

Score: 3 KAOSS pads built into guitars out of 5

/**/

Unhinged Psycho Prefers Band’s Later Stuff

Posted on by The Hard Times Staff

SPRINGFIELD, Mass. — Local maniac Cole Kristoff openly admits he prefers the most recent releases from his favorite metal band Iron Weaver, outraged sources confirmed.

“People call me crazy, but I happen to like the fact that the vocals are talk-screamed now. I can actually understand the lyrics on their last four albums, and don’t even get me started on how much better the drums sound,” said Kristoff while playing the band’s latest release “Devil’s Water.” “I’m sorry if I think their early albums are too full of youthful aggression and sound a bit raw. I know everyone misses the original lead guitarist, and it’s tragic that he died in a barn fire, but the guy that replaced the replacement is just as good if not better. I especially like how he’s pushed the band to lean into more ballads.”

Friends of Kristoff live in a constant state of anxiety thanks to his music preferences.

“Cole will send me a link to a new Iron Weaver music video and be like ‘you have to see this,’ and it’s the band playing in another abandoned warehouse with a bunch of shaky camera angles so you can’t really see how slow they are moving. I keep telling him the band hasn’t been good since I was in fourth grade,” said long-time friend Don Beltran. “When he got married last year, he had six Iron Weaver songs on the wedding playlist, and all of them were released after 2010. About 30 people left the wedding after the second song. I would have left too, but I was the Best Man.”

Medical professionals are hoping to add “Preferring a Band’s Later Stuff” as a recognized mental illness in the DSM-5.

“I want to make it clear, you can still enjoy new music from your favorite band. But if a band has been around for more than fifteen years and you think they’re writing their best music yet, then you need to be removed from society because you’re a danger to yourself and anyone around you,” said Dr. Mel Aneese. “When musicians get sober, have children, and are successful enough to hire money managers, it’s literally impossible for them to write something as good as they did when they were actually starving. Their rough edges have been dulled, and now they are just doing an impression of their younger selves, even if they are ‘technically’ more proficient musicians now.”

Update: Kristoff is currently in a coma after being beaten within an inch of his life after saying “season 33 of ‘The Simpsons’ is the funniest season yet.”

Photo by Chris Cole.

We Reached Out to a Guy Who Posted a Meme Saying He’d Help Us Pack if the American Flag Offended Us and We Gotta Admit He’s Doing a Great Job

Posted on by Mimi Kenny

We all know moving is the worst, and packing is maybe the worst of the worst. There was so much we needed to load up for our big move and not enough time. We decided to take a chance and ask a guy who posted a badly-compressed meme with a watermark reading: “TRUEPATRIOTS” and whose Facebook profile pic was of his bicep tattoo of the Staind logo.

At first, we weren’t sure how sincere he was. But since he replied to the post with, “I mean it!” we figured to take his word for it.

After introducing ourselves and explaining our stance on the American flag as a symbol of capital-driven oppression, he asked us to fill out a brief questionnaire about how much stuff we’ll be moving and what dates would work best for us. When we inquired about his rates he told us “one less libtard is payment enough” and that we would only have to reimburse him for fuel.

This guy has some pretty reprehensible views, but we have to admit he is a damned efficient mover! He had us packed and loaded in 3 hours flat. I don’t think those InfoWars supplements have been “recalibrating his parietal enzymes” as he says, but he was a massive help all the same.

Granted, there were a few issues. Any time we offered him water, he would rant something about how regular hydration is responsible for the emasculation of society. Also, he kept recommending we check out these comedians who were deplatformed for “being too real.”

He found a way to argue for mandatory school prayer while measuring the dimensions of a refrigerator box, but we can’t bash his method for storing plates.

Micro-rants and terrible youtube recommendations aside, he was pretty pleasant throughout the entire process, happy even. He said that moving actually soothes him a bit because it’s “nice to focus on something other than the cabal of liberal pedophiles eroding our democracy for a while.”

He was a little ticked off when he found out we weren’t moving out of the country and had just found a better place down the street. He calmed down when we reminded him that we would be 900 yards further from him and that when the time came to renunciate our citizenship, we would hit him up.

Doctors Baffled by Prog Guy’s 11/8 Time Signature EKG Readings

Posted on by Chris Bowen

CHICAGO — Several Doctors at Rochester University School of Health Sciences were left with a few questions Saturday after examining a man who claimed to be a big prog rock fan’s unusual and wonky EKG rhythm, several confused white coat-clad sources report.

“Well, Mr. Crimson came into the hospital complaining of an unusual finger cramping in his left hand,” Dr. Slayton, lead cardiologist, explained. “So we hooked him up to the EKG machine which is a routine procedure, and that’s when we noticed his unusually intricate, seemingly off-time heartbeat. The entire staff didn’t understand what was going on, it just didn’t sound good…but it also did at the same time? A lot of 50 year old dudes who were waiting for prostate exams seemed drawn to the sound of the EKG machine. We tried shocking his heart back into a more traditional rhythm, but to no avail.”

Prog rock fan Harold Crimson finds there’s nothing out of the ordinary about how confusingly off-time his blood pumps through his body.

“I’m not sure why all these egghead doctors are so shocked at seeing an EKG this complex, I mean, after all, they are supposed to be highly educated,” Crimson stated. “My 11/8 heartbeat and pulse is just a natural progression in the evolution of man. I understand not everyone can comprehend the intricacies of unconventional time signatures and tempos like a sophisticated prog fan such as myself, but soon medical science will prove that dweebs like me reign supreme on a molecular level.”

Professor Peter Obrero at Johns Hopkins University spoke about other medical abnormalities that coincide with the person’s musical preferences.

“Mr. Crimson’s bizarre heartbeat isn’t really that bizarre at all, actually,” Obrero said as he put down his Tool LP he used for reference. “In fact, one guy who was such a fan of the band Goblin would literally walk with his steps in all sorts of whacky polyrhythms. And it doesn’t only happen with prog fans. There’s been a couple instances where grindcore fans have had EKGs registered at 220 BPM and doom fans registering at 10 BPM. How any of them are still alive is a medical marvel.”

At press time, Mr. Crimson was spotted trying to alter the timing belt inside his car’s engine to match his unusual heart beat rhythm.

So You’ve Alienated All Your Creative Partners, Bandmates, and Friends: How to Rent a Winter Cabin for Your Solo Project

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

We’ve all been there. Because of your incredibly toxic, controlling behavior and inability to collaborate with anyone who shows a modicum of independent thought, you’ve alienated all your creative partners, blind fools of bandmates, and so-called friends. You’ve come to the moment all true creative geniuses do. You need to rent an isolated cabin in the middle of winter where you can record a heartbreaking, lo-fi album about how everyone sucks but you.

Fortunately, we are here to help you logistically figure out how to rent the perfect place to record your magnum opus about all the haters that have held you back this whole time.

Scout the Area
First, make sure the cabin is isolated and snowy. Remember, this will be the emotionally intense, definitely-unplanned cover image of your solo album, so remove any visible hints of belonging to the 21st century like electric lights, a satellite dish, or your Ford F150.

Find the Most Antiquated Equipment Possible, Because Art
Before you trek up to your backwoods womb of isolation in which you will bare all your thoughts and feelings to a generation, make sure you get some super old-ass recording equipment. It will probably sound like shit, but this is for art.

Procure Lots of Whiskey
So much Jim Beam. You’re going to need to get really tanked up there because what else will there be to do?

Have Your Parents Pay the Rent
This is the single most important thing for any true artist like you. Since you kicked everyone out of your band, your life, and your financial prospects, you’re going to need to be subsidized. Get on the phone and tell them they need to put a first, last, and three-month payment on the cabin, otherwise, they have ruined your fucking life forever. Plus, they need to have Amazon deliver some groceries up there.

Dad Keeps Calling Son’s Hopes and Dreams “A Hobby”

Posted on by Chris Jones

TOPEKA, Kan. — Local guitarist Austin Henderson is reportedly fed up with his father calling his lifelong dream of making a living as a musician “a hobby” for the ninth time this week, confirmed sources currently consoling the son.

“My dad just doesn’t get it, man,” expressed Henderson, 30-year-old frontman of local undiscovered punk band Flyover Pits. “I’ve told him time and time again that he needs to respect my passion if he ever wants backstage tickets when I’m inevitably headlining sold out shows at Madison Square Garden. One day I’m going to get out of this tiny shit-stain of a town thanks to a one-way ticket called music stardom. We’ll see what losers still have the nerve to call my life’s work ‘a hobby’ when Mom Jeans is opening for my shows instead of the other way around.”

Henderson’s father doubled down and defended his resentment of his son’s pursuit of his dream.

“Look, I know everyone loves to hear a good tune at the occasional visit to your local honky-tonk. Don’t get me wrong—music is a fun hobby and all, but it’s definitely no way to support a family of 12 like we typically produce out here in Kansas,” explained Virgil Henderson. “I know he’s worked for this music dream his whole life and all, but it’s not like he’s the next Ted Nugent. Austin needs to just take my advice and sacrifice his soul to work with me at the factory. If he works hard and keeps his head down he can make up to $19 an hour. After all, hopes and dreams are for movies and fantasy sports, not the real world.”

Lifelong fan of Flyover Pits, Trevor O’Kelly, was quick to back up Austin’s passion for performing music professionally.

“Maybe it’s just because I’m pretty much the only fan that goes to his shows and his roommate, but I really feel like Austin’s going places!” cheered Trevor. “Last show he even was able to get at least ten people at the bar to look up from their conversations and notice there was actually a live band playing. Usually they just ignore the band altogether, so I’d definitely call that progress. I have to back up Austin’s dream on this. We really lean on each other, ya know? I support his dream of becoming a famous musician just like he supports my dream of being best friends with a famous musician.”

As of press time, Henderson was further irritated after his father referred to the album artwork he worked hard on as “a little doodle.”

Poor Band Reduced to Eating Drink Ticket Casserole for Dinner Again

Posted on by James Knapp

DOVER, Del. — Struggling power-thrash band Boot Full of Piss recently sat down to a predictably cheap dinner made up of a bunch of unused drink tickets baked together into something that might be supposed to resemble food, sources who had to sell the tour van to pay for gas confirmed.

“Look at what we’ve been reduced to. It’s times like this I wish we hadn’t all lost our jobs at Guitar Center for getting drunk behind the Peavey display,” bemoaned drummer Smitty Twindles. “That we even had to save these tickets in the first place is pretty depressing. No band should ever have to choose between food and booze – or amphetamines, for that matter. Thankfully my aunt died last week so I took everything in her fridge and we mixed it all together with the drink tickets to make this mess. It might kill us, but this is the price you pay.”

Several venue owners defended their decision not to pay the band in any currency other than an exchange note for lukewarm Bud Lights.

“Those jags are lucky to have gotten anything at all. They played for like four people… on a Saturday headlining spot! Honestly, I think people avoided this place just because they were here,” explained Doug Klondike, owner of The Beached Whale taproom. “They should probably just quit while they’re ahead. Maybe try trade school. The world needs plenty of plumbers and they’re used to dealing with shit anyway.”

Punk celebrity chef, Pit Beef, was supportive of the band’s innovative use of drink tickets as cuisine.

“As I explain in my books Eat Me: 101 Recipes For Touring Bands and The KKK To My Lasagna Away: Fighting Facism With Oregano, when you’re in a band sometimes you need to be creative when you’re figuring out where your meal is coming from,” said the heavily tattooed star of Viceland’s “Eat Me Out.” “Are there a bunch of half-full beer cans laying around from the party last night? That’s breakfast now. Did the drummer run over a cat with the tour van? That’s lunch. I applaud these boys and their ingenuity – and you can read all about that in my next book Touring on a Budget: How To Convince Your Bassist There are Calories In the Air.”

At press time, Boot Full of Piss was still attempting to choke down the casserole with the promise of drink ticket pudding if they were all in the clean plate club.

Scandinavian Actor Can’t Remember Which Skarsgård He Is

Posted on by Ted Pillow

LOS ANGELES — A tall, blonde-ish actor with Scandinavian roots based in Hollywood is struggling to remember which Skarsgård family member he is, according to equally bewildered sources.

“This is really quite embarrassing, but there’s just way too many of us doing the same exact thing to even keep track,” remarked the unidentified Nordic thespian while practicing lines for his upcoming role as a vaguely European serial killer. “I live in a studio apartment, so I’m pretty sure I’m not one of the more successful Skarsgårds, like Alexander or Stellan. Perhaps I am the lesser known Swedish character actor and classical flutist Ploofhoven Skarsgård? I knew I should’ve splurged for an IMDbPro account.”

Despite an exhaustive search of film production records, sources were still unable to determine where the unknown actor fits within the extended Skarsgård family tree.

“He’s pale, bookish, and vaguely creepy, and he played the main villain in a major Marvel movie, but that doesn’t really narrow things down,” noted Variety reporter Sydney Kwan. “Unfortunately, there’s no shortage of northern European actors who have thrived in Hollywood playing various detached, sinister roles. In fact, he may not be a Skarsgård at all, but just that loser Peter Sarsgaard. He’s a bit worn looking, so he might even be a holdover from an earlier era. I haven’t ruled out that he’s actually an extremely malnourished Dolph Lundgren.”

in desperate need of assistance, the actor decided to reach out to the Swiss Embassy, and, more importantly, IKEA.

“Many people think we just sell modular, modernist furniture and meatballs, but we actually fulfill a multitude of roles in Swedish society,” explained Knutstorp Vokrupenham, IKEA’s Chief Forensic Investigator. “We requested a DNA sample from the actor in question and we will work tirelessly to identify which Skarsgård he is. At that point, like all Swedish citizens, he will be required to pay off his debt with three years in one of our labor camps assembling bunk beds and shelving units.”

As of press time, the still unidentified actor was working closely with Christian Bale to help prepare him for his upcoming starring role in a film about the life and times of Ploofhoven Skarsgård.

5 Seemingly Cute Animal Friendships in Which One Animal Always Had To Decide Where They Were Going To Get Lunch

Posted on by Nathan Kamal

Is there anything more adorable than two animals who become photogenic friends? While some people don’t find their hearts warmed by the sight of a rabbit and an owl who like to snuggle and take naps together, those people are likely sociopathic monsters. Everyone knows unlikely animal friendships are the best. There is, however, a dark side.

It turns out the emotional depth and complexity needed to forge partnerships that will turn you into a quivering pool of feels also create some weird, passive-aggressive relationships between animals that make one of the animals always have to do all of the emotional labor and always pick what they do for lunch, even though it’s the other animal that is always shooting down their lunch ideas.

Check them out!

Gherkin the Hamster & Pickles the Gerbil: We know what you’re thinking: two different kinds of pudgy rodents being friends? That’s crazy! But Gherkin and Pickles are best buds and do everything together from digging through sawdust to drinking water from that weird upside-down bottle thing. The only thing that’s concerning is how Gherkin always wants to do lunch but makes Pickles choose where they’re going to eat, and though Gherkin claims to be open to anything… she’s not.

Calvin Cockatoo & the Cat Who Lives Next Door: If cartoons taught us anything, it’s that a little bird and a big orange cat should be natural enemies! But these two good friends just love to hang out together without anyone eating anyone! In fact, no one ever eats anything at all, because fucking Calvin has a problem with every single Chili in town, but no ideas of his own.

Patient Gus & This Fucking Elephant: We stan the two-decade-long friendship between this Galápagos giant tortoise and this unnamed elephant, but we cannot for the life of us understand how Gus can deal with that peanut-eating asshole hemming and hawing for 90 minutes about whether they get Thai or Japanese, insisting that Gus decide, then immediately bringing up how much they like whatever he didn’t pick.

Alan the Otter & Alan the Black Labrador: These two love to swim together and have the same name and it’s so fucking awesome we cried, but that otter needs to realize he needs to put less pressure on other Alan to always come up with a new restaurant to go to and act like he’s weirdly disappointed if they ever go to the same place twice. It’s not your fucking birthday, Alan. It’s just lunch.

Taffy & Toffee: These two Golden Retrievers aren’t just best friends, they’re brothers! Too bad Toffee can’t go anywhere Taffy picks out because he has mysterious “allergies,” but won’t ever come up with anything himself.

Fuck’s sake, Toffee.

Sober Person Down to 3 Cases of La Croix A Day

Posted on by Goodrich Gevaart

CHICAGO — Recovered addict and veteran sober person Anna Caspian is happy with her recent reduction of La Croix consumption to three cases a day, impressed sources confirmed.

“Two weeks ago I hit five years sober from opiates, which has been really hard, but really worthwhile,” said Caspian. “But what’s been even harder for me now is not drinking sparkling water every second my eyes are open. I wake up at 5 a.m. now, start my gratitude work and journaling and will usually have seven cans crushed before the sun comes up. But I’ve slowed down recently, and now I only drink about 36 cans, three cases or so, daily. Last year I was drinking around 72 cans a day. 85 If I had to talk to my mom.”

Michelle Vincent, Caspian’s partner of four years, is pleased not only for Caspian’s habit reform, but for their monthly budget as well.

“We were heading to Costco a few times a week before,” said Vincent as she broke down a mountain of cardboard for recycling. “The greeters would remember us and say ‘there’s the bubble babes coming to buy us out of our whole supply of La Croix!’ It was nice, but the less I have to go to a place where old ladies call us ‘roommates’ the better. Getting our weekly supply from Jewel is now possible since Anna slowed down a bit on the bubble water. She’s even open to the store brand now, too, because she used to freak the fuck out if they didn’t have the Pamplemousse flavor in stock.”

Addictions counselors say they noticed a spike in sparkling water consumption amongst sober people in recent years.

“For most of my career if you went to a meeting, AA, NA, Al-Anon, anything like that, everyone would be smoking cigarettes and drinking coffee. The ‘addict combo’ they’d call it,” said Michael Hemsworth, Addictions Specialist in Boca Raton, Florida. “But now everyone is drinking these little fizzy waters. I guess the jolt you feel on your tongue is nice, and kind of sparks the rush you used to chase with booze or drugs or risky behavior. It’s definitely healthier, so I like that element, but it really changes the vibe of sitting down with a bunch of other broken people, smoke clouds all around us and terrible coffee in styrofoam cups, talking about how bad our families are.”

At press time, Caspian is trying to be a ‘tea-person’ and recently purchased supplies to make ceremonial matcha, oolong and aged pu-erh.