Somewhere in Satan’s kingdom, drink in hand, Bon Scott is smiling, and with the advent of this release, the horned king’s bidding is done at last. Intended as a high-voltage tribute to the finest exemplars of all things bad-assed, sweat-drenched, and stone cold deafening that rock has yet seen, Hell Ain’t A Bad Place To Be assembles a true round table of dark knights in the sonic crusade against anemic, diluted, spineless music. Unlike most largely pointless and misguided corporate compilations thrown together by record execs doing thick rails of coke while on their cell phones, this is the real thing, the genuine article. No big hair, no sissified alterna-crap, no rap-metal crossover garbage, and definitely no korn; just a baker’s dozen bands who have understood the AC/DC way of life, and method of rock since the word go.These are the true heirs to the throne. And with jaw-dropping, eye-popping artwork by renowned satanic high priest of illustration, Coop, and wicked-ass tattoo ink-slinger Dave Waugh, Hell Ain’t A Bad Place To Be visually drips with sex, hard rock, and more sex. But don’t buy it just for the large-breasted demon chicks on the cover alone…..this fucker rocks like hell, a real kick in the teeth for a music industry long gone sour from top to bottom. For those about to rock…buy this album. Reptilian salutes you.

V/A V/A”Hell Ain’t A Bad Place To Be…” REP032

TRACK LISTING: Beating Around the Bush (Chapstik) Back in Black (Upper Crust) High Voltage (Electric Frankenstein) Rocker (REO Speedealer) Whole Lotta Rosie (Ironboss) Downpayment Blues (Zeke) Big Balls (The Dwarves) Dog Eat Dog (Chrome Cranks) Dirty Deeds (Honky) Rock and Roll Singer (Supersuckers) Girl’s Got Rhythm (Lollipop) Riff Raff (Voltage) Thunderstruck (Fuckemos)

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Here at Reptilian Records, we believe in one thing: blazing, hell-raising punk rock that isn’t afraid to swing an open beer around the room and light the furniture on fire. That’s why we are proud to present the first full-length from Sacramento’s rock’n’thrash gods, The NITZ. This five member rock machine calls their masterpiece “Necromania”, and we’ll be damned if you don’t throw those medium-paced mosh metal records out the window and start a circle pit to this modern-day classic. Actually, we’ll be damned anyway.

Band Name “Album Title” REP000

TRACK LISTING: Resonator Beneath The Ice View From A Lane Man In the Black Suit Road Virus You Don’t Need Eyes To See Everyone Must Die The Prince Room 36 Eddie Horseraper Found My Thrill Cold Beer Beast Within Dreams In The Witch House

After the release of their eight song 7”ep “Kill You to Death”, The NITZ cooled their heels in their central California digs, planning their next flesh-eating attack. Strange rumors leaked across the nation of a costumed pack of rock maniacs whose music is the aural equivalent of a “Dawn of the Dead” rabid zombie attack.
Songs like “Everyone Must Die” and “Road Virus” not only pay homage to punk heroes like the Dwarves, Bay Area thrashers Scholastic Deth, and rock powerhouse Zeke, but the horror movie references and ferocious velocity also bring to mind the Misfits circa “Earth AD”.
This is not your garden variety thrash/rock record. This stands up with the best of all time. Sporting cover art by Chris Taylor (Pg. 99, Crestfallen, Pig Destroyer) and the fiery production of Matt Erich, The NITZ ‘s “Necromania” is the herald of the fast, the loud, the angry and the twisted. This is the sound of suburbia gone wild. Hear The NITZ and spread the sickness!

Gunna Vahm “Whips” - Man Hands for Rump Lust

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Here at Reptilian Records, we believe in one thing: blazing, hell-raising punk rock that isn’t afraid to swing an open beer around the room and light the furniture on fire. That’s why we are proud to present the first full-length from Sacramento’s rock’n’thrash gods, The NITZ. This five member rock machine calls their masterpiece “Necromania”, and we’ll be damned if you don’t throw those medium-paced mosh metal records out the window and start a circle pit to this modern-day classic. Actually, we’ll be damned anyway.

V/A “Graveyard Drag Race” REP000

TRACK LISTING: Resonator Beneath The Ice View From A Lane Man In the Black Suit Road Virus You Don’t Need Eyes To See Everyone Must Die The Prince Room 36 Eddie Horseraper Found My Thrill Cold Beer Beast Within Dreams In The Witch House

Gunna Vahm “Whips” - Man Hands for Rump Lust

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With these sonic transmissions from beyond the Van Allen Belt, VAZ takes the rumbling distortion and eerie isolationist vocals of their previous venture Hammerhead a step further, well beyond normalcy. Using only one guitar and drums, VAZ manages nonetheless to simultaneously scrape the bottom of the ocean floor and peel crust off the surface of the moon with their range of creepy dynamics and brute noise. Apollo Liftoff’s vocals sound at times like Ziggy Stardust after growing up in Fargo, North Dakota and taking a bit too much shit from the locals. Like Hammerhead, this new venture grabs you with catchy hooks over fried tube amp wiring, bent guitar necks and other methods employed by the sick to create ear-damaging distortion. Appearing in this galaxy soon.

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A violent, organized attack on Underground Homeland Security. Incendiary, explosive, precise, Triac’s debut bristles with hateful fury and violence. Searing metallic riffage splattered on the chopping block of brutal grind beats and rumbling, distorted bass. There’s a lot of cookie-cutter grind out there infesting the metal bins with sameness, most of it childishly recounting adolescent home surgery fantasies, or sexual deviancy with decaying body parts. Count Triac out of that equation. With vocals more in line with hardcore or noise rock aggression, and changes and progressions owing more to genre-progenitors like Glazed Baby and Today is the Day than anything churned out of Nuclear Blast’s bowels, Baltimore’s Triac adds an edge of realism and truth to a genre awash in falsehood. In addition to the classic, cutting crossover guitar tone, the breakdowns also point to the sludgy mayhem of yesteryear. But Triac is just as forward thinking in its approach, using hyperspeed blast beats, bizarre samples and audio effects to compliment the overall output. Reptilian is damn glad to issue this latest installment in its ongoing campaign of musical resistance. Goes down smooth for fans of Mastodon, Pig Destroyer, Napalm Death, Slayer.

Triac “Dead House Dreaming” REP088

TRACK LISTING: Dark Corners Witch Sister Dimmer Suns Old Leprechaun Gatemaster Footprint of a Fire Rust in His Sleep Pearl Lake The Milk of the Cosmos has been Spoiled Star Wormwood Ceolacanth Snakes of the Earth Double Dare

Possibly the most devastating Reptilian Records release to date, the sound of a charnal-house being leveled by a fleet of Sherman tanks during rush hour traffic. More than hyperbole, that accurately describes this album’s sonic devastation. Fresh on the charred heels of the split 7” with Medic, also on Reptilian, TRIAC continues its scorched earth policy with Dead House Dreaming, 13 no-nonsense tracks where grindcore, sludge, and thrash intersect. Captured with demanding clarity, depth, and target-practice accuracy by Chris Camden @ Ultrasound, Dead House Dreaming holds court with dynamic arrangements and well-honed song craft. Blake’s vocals are an authoritative bark,
commanding respect above the distorted fray. TRIAC clearly gives a damn about raising the bar in extreme music beyond the usual bullshit posing, blood n’guts, speed trials, and triple-picked riff retardation. They’ve done it with Dead House Dreaming, elevating themselves quite a few gutter levels above the majority of grind bands content to wallow sheepishly in formula. Like Pig Destroyer or Soilent Green, TRIAC can stop the speed gears on a dime, shift into haunting experimental noise passages, 80’s thrash, full-on riff metal, or the kind of raw and ugly sludge favored by Glazed Baby or Buzzoven. Dead House Dreaming concludes with a respectfully noisy cover of Bauhaus’ “Double Dare”, and on the last note, it’s apparent there’s not a note wasted in this perfect album. Cover art torn from nightmares and translated into paint by artist Stephen Kasner.

Triac / Medic “Split 7″” REP080

TRACK LISTING: TRIAC: Riverside You’re Their Figure of God The Very Worm That Gnaws MEDIC: La Grippa Proxy

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A marriage made in Hell- THRALL has joined forces with the oh-so-evil Reptilian Records for what turns out to be one of the heavier slabs of mind twisting genius to come out of the noise closet in some time. Mike Hard, vocalist of the long gone sultans of strange The God Bullies, shows no signs of restraint- and the aggravated wall of rock that provides his musical backdrop ain’t too shabby neither! Delving into the dark pit of disturbed religious and conspiritorial tales that Hard has become famous for, THRALL’s new platter is a slice of delicious hate, tuned to the key of FUCK.

Thrall “Hung Like God” REP060

TRACK LISTING: Hollowed We Follow Night Fell Hopelessly In Love Don’t Shoot Me God Damn Devil Is My Love Safe Inside You? Where Are My People Remove And Replace Our Love Will Survive

THRALL’s sound is rooted in the same splurge and hiss that turned out some of the midwest’s finest underground action, including Killdozer, the Jesus Lizard, The Cows, and of course The God Bullies. The sound is tighter this time around, but by no means tamed. Chug down your favorite malted beverage, chew on a few of those adult vitamins, and give this little monster a ride in your stereo! “God Damn Devil” is right!

“A marriage of heavy music, heavy drugs, and social commentary”- Bam

“Madness coupled with disease, rage melded with fear, the grotesque intertwining of power and paranioa, Thrall create the soundtrackof the apocalypse”- Chicago Reader

“…Hard growls and moans like his gut’s on fire, while the band’s guitarists rage away like the black plague” - Baltimore Weekly (Critic’s Choice)

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At the intersection of terror and chaos, sheer volume is the crowned king. Swarm of the Lotus is the latest throne-worthy audio beast Reptilian Records has committed to wax or plastic. Drawing justifiable comparisons to heavyweight behemoths such as Neurosis, Mastodon, Godflesh, Today is the Day, and Isis, Swarm of the Lotus clearly shares a table with the best. And one thing Swarm does better than the aforementioned five is bridging itself to the modern hardcore of bands like Converge and Burnt by the Sun as much as to noise rock, distorted sonic expressionism, deafening math mayhem, and pure hammering metal. It ain’t for the weak of spirit. Some songs are the sound of a caravan of boulder-pulling camels across the Sahara (while bombs rain down above), and others are like King Crimson eating acid proffered from the blood-stained palms of the Manson family. Reptilian is of course boastfully proud to have pulled this one from the fires – a three song (“Torrential”, “Ichabod”, “Withered Am I”), limited edition picture disc 7” of exclusive tracks from this devastating Baltimore quartet. Produced by low-end mastermind John Smulyan, the tracks blister like mustard gas on cyclopean infant. With characteristically brutal, cut-and-paste dementia-and-guts artwork from acclaimed fetish photographer Carlos Batts, the envelope has been duly pushed into Hell’s mailbox. Enjoy the feast.

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SWAMPASS: A regional phrase describing the condition of overwhelming odor and itch that manifests in the crack of a sweaty and unwashed human ass; also, A rock and roll band from Charleston, Illinois.” (The Oxford Dictionary)

Listen up, creeps. From the asshole of the American Midwest comes a power-trio that was born to rock your cocks off. Emerging from the slime of endless victim-oriented, whiny, jackoff, “Shiny Happy People” bullshit, Swampass is here to save us all. Hallelujah, brothers and sisters! With the release of their first full length recording, No Means Go (CD on Reptilian Records/LP on Safety Pin Records of Madrid, Spain), Swampass have donned their helmets and axes are bursting at their chains to do battle in the big-time rock and roll arena. Though their influences are obvious (Stooges, New York Dolls, Jesus Lizard, MC5, Dead Kennedys, AC/DC), they are no nostalgia or gimmick-oriented band. They have plunged the depths of rock’s shit-filled toilets and returned with pure diamond-studded turds. Their first release, a 7″ single of Bastard Park/Lipstick Letters (Small Unmarked Bills Records), was only the beginning, only a whiff of the straight-up, no chaser rock and roll to come. Like any truly great band, the real proof of their mettle exists on stage, and Swampass continues to prove themselves night after night. Aside from their headline gigs across the Midwest, they have opened for such legendary road dogs as Nashville Pussy, Gaza Strippers, New Bomb Turks, Murder City Devils, Blue Meanies, Raging Slab, Texas Terri, B-Movie Rats, and many others. Perhaps their biggest live hard-on to date occurred in May, 2001, when they wiped their asses on their competitors and won an opening slot on the Iggy Pop 2001 Tour. Watching the boys tear it up in honor of one of their heroes was a true inspiration. And if you think I’m bullshitting all this, check out rave reviews by Maximum Rock And Roll, The St. Louis Riverfront Times, Riffage, New York Waste, Throat Culture, Ear Candy, and dozens of other rags. Nope, this ain’t hype; this is fuckin ROCK AND ROLL! So who are they? On vocals and guitar, Tommy Rue. If you crossed Jello Biafra and Johnny Thunders, you couldn’t create a more wicked rock and roll mutant. On nitro-fueled bass and vocals, Ginchy. He may like to wear a dress, but I guarantee you’re a dead motherfucker if you pinch him on the ass. On drums, Jake Pope. Mighty skinny for a skin-pounder, but you’d swear John Bonham was slinging his sticks. In the future look for a European tour, compilation and tribute cuts, as well as more recorded and live evil. If you like your music tough and uncompromising, do yourself a favor and buy or steal anything with their name on it. Swampass is here to stink up the place and YOU ARE INVITED!

–Ounce Clark

(Ounce Clark, under various names and guises, is a music/film/book critic whose opinions have appeared in The Chicago Reader, Maximum Rock And Roll, Illinois Entertainer, Asian Cult Cinema, and The Champaign/Urbana Octopus, among others)

Swampass “No Means Go!” REP037

TRACK LISTING: Paste Filth Run Mother Fucker Run Piss On You Laughing God Damn Radio Swingin’ Dick Halcyon Knuckleshuffler Malt Liquor Cattle Call Box Car 38 Slither Baby, Where You Been

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Well fuckin’ alright! A hot new full length scorcher from Satan’s favorite rock band! Exclusive limited edition vinyl pressing released on Reptilian- and selling faster than souls at a major label signing party. What can we tell you about the Supersuckers? If you don’t know, you wouldn’t understand.

The Supersuckers “Evil Powers of Rock & Roll” REP045

TRACK LISTING: The Evil Powers of Rock and Roll Cool Manchu I Want the Drugs Santa Rita High Dead Meat Stuff N’ Nonsense Dirt Roads, Dead Ends and Dust Fisticuffs Gone Gamblin’ My Kickass Life Goin’ Back to Tucson I Can’t Hold Myself In Line Hot Like the Sun

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The nightmarish sound that haunt your sleep. 4 am urban insomnia. NYC. Lower east side rhythmic hunt music for the homeless and insane. Noisy, avant, dangerous, the Spitters are heirs to the Swans/Foetus bloodline of damaged, evasive and brutal New Yorkers also followed by compatriots Cop Shoot Cop, Unsane, and the Blues Explosion, but moodier. Like ocean-water submersion in complete darkness. Live, the Spitters bring an elemental danger, with unexpected and unpredictable moments of violence, destruction and barely contained sexual urgency. A poignant and immediate threat. Ex-Missing Foundation member and Spitters front man Mark Ashwill comes off as the psychotic younger brother of Iggy Stooge with a disturbingly darker side. Subterranean noise-rock. “Times of Influenza” drips from the turntable, oozing the urban nightcrawl experience, while “Life At Sea” brightens the tempo with tribal drumwork and distorted bass notes bent and contorted out of shape. Full length LP, CD available on PCP/Matador Records..

R.I.P. Mark Ashwill, vocalist. He died 4/11/00 of throat cancer. May he live on in the hearts and minds of all those he encountered or effected with his creativity. Hail Mark!

“Hot Rock Action Vol. 3″
with The Spitters, Haberdasher, Buzzov-en and Behind Closed Doors

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