Wrasslin', Plaid Shirts, and Mofos Who Can't Remember: Load's Lumberjack Death Luge | Crossfade | Miami | Miami New Times | The Leading Independent News Source in Miami, Florida
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Wrasslin', Plaid Shirts, and Mofos Who Can't Remember: Load's Lumberjack Death Luge

Load Lumberjack Death Luge(Ballad of Son of Crusher) Seven-Inch (House O'Pain Records) I have purposely left Load out of the rotation for a bit now since I started these Blasts From the Past slightly over a year ago. Call it professional payback for Bobby Load never remembering meeting me back in...
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Load

Lumberjack Death Luge
(Ballad of Son of Crusher)
 Seven-Inch

(House O'Pain Records)



I have purposely left Load out of the rotation for a bit now since I started these Blasts From the Past slightly over a year ago.



Call it professional payback for Bobby Load never remembering meeting me back in the mid '90s. Call it Tucci's guitar or Sousa's (or is it Xousa's) bass or Figueredo's drums. I don't fucking know. I don't know shit. I never did. I never will.



All I know is the following: Load shared a special place in the pantheon of South Florida's early-'90s punk rock alongside Quit. These were the dudes who opened for national touring acts and nobody ever questioned them.



Why would we? These guys were out of control. They knew no boundaries. They fucked our girlfriends. And even if they didn't, we thought they would. We cowered in fear. They never remembered our names. Shit. Had I been the tough guy I pretend to be now, they would've gotten a shiner. Or I would've gotten a record on the fly.



Here's how I romanticize it: It was either '94 or '95. My friends Tanya TVK and Rita Pita and Arun and I went to the Edge to catch the Ramones -- and Load opened. All I remember is Bobby Load crowdsurfing in the middle of a song and disappearing... lah did dah! And then someone got on the microphone and said, "Oh hey Bobby, the song's not done. Where are you? Can you come back? Song's not done." Or something to that effect. In my teenage mind, that was the stuff of legend.



So here we are, this seven-inch is horribly (criminally) out of print. And it is good if you like wrasslin', plaid shirts and motherfuckers who don't remember your name even though you've met them a thousand times. And I mean Bobby. The rest of the guys are swell and doing great things. Flees!



The title track opens up a cheap-beer-swilling anthem before it careens out of control with "Adamantium" (which may or may not be based on the indestructible metal that makes Wolverine the muse of Entombed) before bringing it full circle with the aptly titled "Drunken Warrior Chief Idiocy."



It's sweet punk rock hardcore with enough metal tinges to rust your mammy's hip replacement. We want blood!



Download: Load's "Adamantium"



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