In punk-rock parlance, Duane Peters can appropriately be classified as a "lifer." The sneering Californian's unofficial indoctrination into the subculture came via skateboarding, the only cred-ready sport in punk. His body is coated in fading ink. He's founded a smattering of labels; the most successful is Disaster Records. Bands? Oh yeah, he's been in at least a half-dozen. U.S. Bombs disseminated snarky, blue-collar dissent. Die Hunns yielded him a wife (Nashville Pussy bassist Corey Parks) and a son (Clash, named after some English group). And Exploding Fuck Dolls teamed speedy clatter with an inappropriately silly name.
Now, the riffraff in Duane Peters Gunfight incites a mosh pit of their own with Checkmate. The March release is a gang vocals-adoring powder keg dotted with potent horns ("Let It Fly") and vague claims of rebellion ("On the Moon" considers migrating from America to the celestial body). There are even hints of revealing self-commentary: When Peters slurs the title of "Opium for Days" in a dazed, Wesley Willis-kinda chorus, he could be referencing his drug-addled youth. All of this disorderliness and debauchery is charming in a lowbrow sort of way, especially considering Gunfight's chief is close to hitting the big 5-0.
