A few years back I worked an extended period in the Third Man Detroit offices. Through normal conversation, the "Fishbowl" single by Green Wall was brought up.
From my memory, the two folks who brought it up could not stop shitting on it. Just HATED the record. It was prominent on their radar when it came out of the Detroit suburbs in 1990, and in some regard, just the antithesis of what was good and worthwhile and noteworthy.
From my perch...I just loved it.
I sat back and waited for nearly three years now...multiple copies available on Discogs, but ALL of them overseas. I finally bit the bullet and spent more on shipping than for the actual record to get it from the UK.
Listening now...I think I love it even more. Swank popped his head in the door with that quizzical "What is this?" look on his face. I asked if he was curious because it was bad...or if he thought it was good. He said it appealed to his teenage "Rats Revenge" sensibilities and I get where he's coming from.
I find localized precedents along the lines of the Tulsa City Truckers and (maybe) the Rascal Reporters. But there's a little bit more adolescent naivete present here, bordering on art rock avant garde, that ups the ante in an impressive way.
Side note: only upon receiving this copy in the mail did I find out that one of the band members is John Tenney. I sat at the same table as this guy at a wedding like 15 years ago. I was told that he had taken over "Coast to Coast" radio after Art Bell passed, but my googling just now shows me that he's maybe only guested on the program. Anyway, Tenney is considered an esteemed paranormal researcher. Seems about right.
"Holiday Inn Massacre" is my go-to here. Uncompromising, uncomparable, straight ahead, nonsensical. I can see how the shock of 90's nonsensical stupidity might turn off those who fully lived through it. But for those who didn't get to their first punk show until after Cobain kicked the bucket, there's a whiff of the "so close, I just missed it" grass-is-greener feels of what the cool kids were doing just before you walked through the door.
These are the ephemeral, difficult to put into words moments I find myself searching out more and more. It brings me joy.
