Blood Circus - Primal Rock Therapy
(Sub Pop, 1989)

Current Gemm price: $5.00-$57.50
Price I paid: $1.99, Second Coming Records, Cambridge
Worth: Dude, how much would YOU pay for some PRIMAL ROCK THERAPY!?
By: Sleazegrinder

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“I don’t know what YOU been told, but a MAN can’t take this shit for long”

Besides a brief and brutal stint in 1984 as the 'drummer' in what would, many years later, become Anal Cunt, and a spectacularly drunken episode in 1993 as the singer (so to speak) of fledgling glamdustrial band Stalking Alyssa, with Ron Raymond, now of NYC motorpunks Pale Imitations (there’s a demo of us doin’ Wings Hauser’s maniacal “Neon Slime” from the Vice Squad soundtrack out there somewhere that really needs to be melted down), I was never one for wanting to be in a band. I mean, who the fuck needs that kind of humiliation, ya know? Whilst my fellow rock n’ roll conne-sewer rats were all banging out their garage-y Dogs D’Amour covers, I was plotting and executing plans for mind-melting Super 8 (ask yr daddy) death-trip cinematrosities. I didn’t wanna be a rock star, I wanted to be a bad-ass film-maker, like Nick Zedd. But that’s a whole ‘nother story. The point is, I never wanted to run away and join the rock n’ roll freakshow. Except for this one. The Blood Circus. THAT supersonic charnel house, I wanted to be a part of.

I don’t even know what that means, really, and I didn’t THEN, either. All I knew is that whatever the fuck it was that Blood Circus were doing, it was IMPORTANT, and I wanted to be there, wanted to roll around in the blood and glass and mud and terror with ‘em, and just get Super Real, ‘cuz the Circus, baby, were drawing lines in the sand, and you hadda choose what side you were gonna be on. It was the end of the world, man, the dawn of the 19 fucking 90’s, and we needed speed and gasoline and love and hate and volume and power if we were gonna survive in those days of high weirdness, and Blood Circus had alla that, and knew where to get more.
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Ok, so history was not kind to Blood Circus. Matter of fact, history was AWFUL to Blood Circus. But it’s like the song goes- “I was in the right place, but it musta been the wrong time”. See, the Circus were balls-to-the-wall, death-defying, biker-fuzz-flash metal cock n’ roll supernauts from Planet Kickass (by way of Seattle), and they wore leather and mirrored shades and had hair flying everywhere, but they were signed to Sub Pop, home of Soundgarden and Mudhoney and every other ‘grunge’ band that ever mattered, and even if they SOUNDED like Mudhoney – and the MC5, and the Stooges- they were not a grunge band. Hell, they were even dirty, and never shaved, but they still weren’t grunge. Grunge was anti-rockstar, ya know, it was hard drugs and apathy and irony. Blood Circus weren’t just rock stars, they were drunk, evil, ROCK AND ROLL MOTHERFUCKERS, and you bet they cared, baby. They cared about rocking yr dumb ass into the dust, every goddamn night.
But uh, nobody else cared. Their sole small-hole rekkid, 1989’s 5 song ep “Primal Rock Therapy” (they also had a single in ‘88) was, for many years, Sub Pop’s WORST selling release. Kids with thriftstore flannel tied around their waists saw these fuckers, these half Circus of Power biker metal savages, half psychedelic space-riff warriors, and shrugged. As you can still, to this day, find “Primal Rock Therapy” in just about every record store in the world for like, 2 bucks, I guess the world STILL doesn’t care. And I just don’t get it, man. I mean, the name of this band was fucking BLOOD CIRCUS! Their album was called PRIMAL ROCK THERAPY! Isn't Primal Rock Therapy what we're ALL ABOUT, man? They sounded like Monster Magnet before there WAS a Monster Magnet, and you know, it wasn’t like it is now in the land of the superhipster. Not EVERY rock n’ roll band had the sense of history and the good taste to utilize the Stooges and MC5 as their inspirations. I think Sub Pop founder Jonathon Poneman said it best: “They were everclear to ever other band’s whiskey.”
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The story? There ain’t one, really. They came, they rocked, they fuckin’ split. Blood Circus were dust by ’90. They briefly reformed in 1992, when Sub Pop re-released “Primal Rock Therapy” with 5 previously unreleased tracks from 1989. Sub Pop and Blood Circus were kinda hoping the world had caught up with ‘em by then. The world had not, and they slinked back to wherever used-up rock n' roll dudes go. I dunno where Doug Day (drums), Mike Anderson (vox, guitar), Tracey “T-Man” Simmons (bass), and Geoff Robinson (guitar) are right now, but I can only hope that they are in a garage somewhere, planning their revenge. Cuz on the strength of ‘Primal Rock Therapy’, they deserve it.

Opener “Road to Hell” is their declaration of war, a steamin’ locomotive of flash-boogie riffs and galloping bass rumble and Poison 13-style psycho-blues. It’s sounds like a bad machine, like a motorcycle driven by a flaming skull in a leather jacket. It's mostly instrumental, besides a little yellin’ about “Daddy rules at the gates of hell!” (or whatever- Mike slurred a lot ) It’s pure biker-flash, a street fighting slice of pure wreck n’ roll.
Part of the Crowd” is about the Rock Show, man. About the Rock Show where IT ALL GOES DOWN, man. Mike sounds hypnotized in this one, or maybe possessed – “part of the CROWD, part of the CROWD, part of the…”) - as the band seethes behind him, acidic, space-fried, panicky, ready for anything. It ends in a sweaty ball of feedback and screaming. Just like a good night at the rock show.

My Dad’s Dead” is another slice of narco-biker-hypno rock. It borrows heavily from the Stooges (it’s “We Will Fall” sped-up, basically), with a healthy dose of Flash Metal swagger. You wouldn’t think so, seeing as it’s called “My Dad’s Dead”, but there ya go.

Lime Green” has some bitchin’ stoner-freakout guitar action and a rollin’ thunderboogie rhythm, and it goes “Bop bop bop baby gonna rock me to the moon!” If Rob Tyner ever pulled an Iggy and said “C’mon Wayne, show ‘em how I FEEL!” then Wayne’d probably play this riff.

Gnarly” is their desperate, death-cult, kill-for-thrills, acid-metal, go down shooting last stand. It’s one big motor-rock riff that they keep smacking against the wall for five minutes, hopin’ it’ll break (the wall I mean, not the riff), while Mike howls like a dog fulla buckshot.

And then it’s over. Motherfucker. A brilliant one-ring circus that flamed-out before the motorcycle daredevil even hopped on his bike. But since this record always made me wanna CRACK SOMEBODY’S SKULL IN, it’s probably for the best, man. I mean, who needs rock n’ roll that actually makes you FEEL SOMETHING, right? Right. Sure.


You know the rest. Grunge took over for the next five years. Blood Circus committed Flash Metal Suicide. I went to the bar. That’s the way it goes sometimes, Jack.

Anyway, like I said, you can still find this record anywhere, so if you do, get it. And if yer the digital type, get the ’92 re-release, ‘cuz it’s got their vicious first single on it, “Two Way Street”/”Six Foot Under”, and their ’89 stuff, when they started mixing in shitkicker country and raw-blues influences. It smokes, all of it.


And hey, if ya see any of these fuckers on the street, tell ‘em to get in touch, would ya? I have questions that need answers.

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Further: Sub Pop Records

-Sleazegrinder
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