Local Motion: Albums from Music is a Weapon and the Crumbs | County Grind | South Florida | Broward Palm Beach New Times | The Leading Independent News Source in Broward-Palm Beach, Florida

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Local Motion: Albums from Music is a Weapon and the Crumbs

Music is a Weapon
Unplug Your Mind (Self-released)

Music Is A Weapon has already proven its chops beyond simple question, and this EP is a natural progression for the outfit. It opens with the post - industrial - hardcore track "1968 the 2-Bit Hustler," and bleeds into a rocking, danceable "Benz and Bicycle." Both the show the players' natural chops on their regular positions. The work of synths/keys grandmaster Jose "Pepin" Olmedo, tight percussion work, and just an innate know-how of building music all make this a solid disc. The Latin-tinged hardcore of the closer, "Quien te Manda," frightened and gave me a hard-on at the same time. Kala's come into his own on the vocals, Mandi is symbiotically awesome, Brik and Ed rock the rhythm, and Hara Acha really does shred that guitar to Heaven and back. Awesome.

The Crumbs
Dade County Trash (Insubordination Records)

Do you know what I like about the Crumbs? I like how six years went by between this disc and the band's last album, 2003's Last Exit, yet they still managed to fuckstart everything and blow everybody else out of the murky waters with their hyper-infectious take on punk rock and roll. Nobody does it better and nobody has done it better in a real long fucking time. This is nasal goodness that shatters bones and devirginizes your sister. Raf Classic is here on vocals and guitars, of course, then there's Johnny B. on leads, Tono dropping the fat bass, and Marcio beating the skins like he owes money all over town.... Maybe he does, who cares, I don't. 

This is one of the longest-running acts in South Florida and their racket always pleases. Raucous version of Bessie Smith's "Nobody Knows You" anchors the shitty truth of Florida living expressed on "Stick To Your Guns," "Twilight Fiends," and the title track. Put the whiskey nozzle to the lips, pay that hooker what you owe her, and get lost in the purest realm of rock and roll. This shit scathes in true Miami fashion. Kudos to "Little" Chris Salmon and the staff at Critical Recordings for respecting the locals like only locals know how. Fuck yeah!

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Abel Folgar