RECORDING REVIEWS
Synthesized 7" Reviews
Total neon robot genious. Gary Numan re-imagined as a hot young girl fronting a whirlwind of duct tape and old synth buzz, only without the pretension you'd expect. These five songs could have been the lost Missin gPersons outtakes. Holy shit, it's that good! 2003 is going to be the year of the Epoxies. You heard it here first, clones.
- Artie Philie, Vice
Good lord, these guys keep on getting better and better and their LP is fantastic. (This 7" sounds a couple of notches fuller, too.) They just seem so sure and strong in what they do, and your ass must be shot full of novicaine and your brain full of Vicodin if your butt doesn't wiggle along to the beat. Their power comes from each instrument fitting and everything's played with force, not merely tinkered with by a member enamoured with the sound of a bleep. I sure see more people adopting new wave, but I've yet to hear one of the new crop that seems to have been born into it with such assurance. And it's so much better than an Adam Ant throwback because there's a guitar snarl and apounding drummer that's not programmed like a Casio. "Synthesised" is a pufect capsule of The Epoxies: tight songs, super sexy vocals, and limber guitar lines. A fuckin' rockin' cover of Alice Cooper's "Clones" rounds out the b-side.
- Todd, Razorcake
Debut Album Reviews
A fact one might wish to keep in mind is that, back in The Day, "new wave" bands NEVER had albums which were really good all the way thru. There mighta been a handful of stellar tracks scattered throughout any given record, but that was more or less already the weak/unimpressive game plan established by the classic rock status quo. THIS record is GREAT all the way thru - good songs, good playing, good lyrics, and good vocals/voice (can't fake havin' a good voice - lord knows i've tried), and i can only assume that's because it took 20+ years for someone to apply punk style energy of focus to the new wave conundrum. I have excellent news for the ghost of Kickboy Face: New Wave no longer doesn't mean shit!!!
- Rev. Norb, Rev. Norb's Extremely Deliberated, Ironed, and Made Shiny Top Tens of 2002 or Almost Thereabouts, Razorcake Magazine
Roxy Epoxy has a voice right out of '77 London, and this Portland, Ore., quintet could blow X-Ray Spex off the stage. Rocking new wave and 11 potential hits make this one of the years best. They deserve to be bigger than the Strokes. Way bigger. (4 1/2 out of 5 stars)
- S.D.
Flashy, stylish punk rock gone new wave, The Epoxies' debut self-titled full-length is a chaotic, equally melodic record of hooks, mayhem, and plenty of those glorious new wave keyboards that keep the songs from going stale (and keep them stuck in your head for hours on end). This is the epitome of rock 'n' roll - dress-up, carefree beats, lots of fun, and songs you can play air guitar too! Imagine if 80's new wave bands were more obsessed with their vinyl collection than their wardrobe, hairstyle, and make-up, and you have something close to The Epoxies. Joyous, wild, and always fresh, look to The Epoxies for a good time and nothing else, because when you put this album on, regardless of what is going on around you, as long as you blast the fuck out of it, a good time is what you'll get. I'll give it an A
- Alex Steininger, In Music We Trust
On their debut, the Epoxies’ sci-fi punk looks back to new wave more exuberantly than the Faint, with more gusto than Chomsky and with as much joyful energy as original wavers like Blondie and the Go-Go’s. Still, Roxy Epoxy’s band of black-and-white clad, skinny tie wearing droid rockers aren’t all retro gloss. From the sexy and descriptive “Science of You” to the X-Ray Spex-worthy “Molded Plastic”, the Epoxies’ driving buzz and holler places them in the ranks of 2002’s greatest punk hopefuls - their brilliantly original Northwest neighbors Pretty Girls Make Graves (also female-fronted) and the B-52’s-meets-punk band, the Selby Tigers.
- Charles Spano, All Music Guide
History will always repeat itself, but the question is can the new generation bring something new to the table rather than rehash the past? Using keyboards as the lead instrument with a whole lotta moxie comes Portland's Epoxies, cranking out an infectious blend of new wave punk that's somewhere between X-Ray Spex, Missing Persons, Berlin and their label mates the Briefs. More friends have requested to tape this record (Sorry, Ken) more than any other in the past three months, so what does that tell you?
- Genetic Disorder
OK, so it’s 2002 and the 80’s are a childhood memory for 80% of us. That’s cool, because I think 80’s rock is most definitely some shit. But if you couple it with odd punk rock, which Oregon’s The Epoxies do quite well, it makes for an interesting mix. I must say, this band surprised me.
I am the first guy to wish death on Flock of Seagulls or whoever the bad hair queens of the minute were, but The Epoxies fucking rule. This is not like anything remotely punk rock you have ever heard. Keyboards galore (they have a full-time keyboardist in the roster), quirky female vocals courtesy of Roxy Epoxy, and extremely strange lyrical stylings that I can only assume hearken back to the days of Missing Persons or whatever that "Do You Hear Me?" band was called.
This 7" is a teaser for their full-length on Dirtnap (former home of The Briefs [plug!]) and does a damn fine job with two album tracks, "Need More Time" and "Molded Plastic" and an Adam and the Ants cover of "Beat My Guest" . I never thought I would like an Ants song in my life, but Roxy fuckin’ yodels (yes, I said yodels) like a champ and pulls it off. This record is the tops in my book, and The Epoxies are blowing up the Northwest with sold-out shows everywhere they turn.
Now, this record could use some beefier guitars and less 1,2,1,2 drumming, but the keyboards and vocals more than make up for it. I guess it sounds weird to say it, but this is not New Wave-influenced punk. This is punk-influenced New Wave. And as much as I hate to say, it totally fucking rocks. If it means anything to you, the drummer for this band was in The Automatics. No colored vinyl, but the thick black stuff that sounds damn good under the needle. If you need something new, try it out. You won’t be disappointed if you have an open mind.
- Steve, Rock N Roll Reaction.com
Portland-based molded plasticians play both kinds of music: new and wave. With brain-railing buzz-saw fuzz, race-car rhythms, and lost notebook lyrics like "Why am I so uncool?," the Epoxies' debut release has enough raw energy and retro push to remind you exactly how old you are while resurrecting your tired ass and pushing you out onto the dance floor. The sci-fi sounds of the synths, the angular jab as the guitars collide with the keys, the screamed, screeched, and sung sting of Roxy Epoxy's vocals, and the happy simplicity of the pop structures don't do a damn thing to rework the genre. The Epoxies leave well enough alone. The song "We're So Small" best captures the man vs. machine fatalism of the '80s, while the next track, "Science of You," hits the fuck-it-let's-dance-anyway spirit perfectly. The age of robots, plastic, neon, neutron bombs, war games, video games, and let's not forget punk rock is what shaped everyone from Adam Ant to X-Ray Spex--and apparently the Epoxies, too. It's hard to say what prompted the five-piece to revisit those years--perhaps they never left them in the first place--but in the hands of Roxy Epoxy and her duct-taped, paint-splattered bandmates, these experiments and explorations are as relevant as ever.
- Laura Learmonth, Seattle Weekly
Forget a long, long time ago in a galaxy far far away- The Clone Wars are raging right now on a torn up stage in Portland, Oregon. The Epoxies debut is the new-wave hit album of the summer for punk robots everywhere - at least it should be. The Epoxies deliver up a confident, out-of-this-world, duct-taped and black-and-white checkered set of crunchy droid pop. Roxy Epoxy's sexy vocals and Fritz Static's zipping ketboards shine trhoughout, from the new world Blondie "Need More Time" to the DEVO-with-a-libido "Walk the Streets." The one-minute long "You" could be the X-Ray-Spex, while "Stop Looking at Me" echos the attitude Belinda Carlisle might have had if she went by Dottie Danger, drumming for the Germs. Like Manda and the Marbles with a serious sci-fi obsession, these germ-free adolescents do it with more verve, energy, and splash than [D.A.R.Y.L.] or Chomsky, playing the music of the future as it was imagined in 1980.
- Charles Spano, Rockpile, September 2002
It had to happen eventually. All those craptastic '80s keyboards, cluttering up music shops, looking Numan-cool but practically useless to anyone who wants to create 21st-century MIDImusic...hell, someone had to snatch them up and make the only kind of noise you can with such relics: blip-snort New Wave punk. (Better to strap on a $100 used Yamaha than get wallet-reamed by $2,199 Nord Lead 3, after all.) And so we come to the Epoxies.
Revered for their manic live show, replete with homemade nukeboy and spacegirl costumes, the Epoxies take the better elements of the Weirdos' diagonal punk (razor-sharp guitars, geometric clothes, duct tape) and Devo's perpendicular nerd pop (squiggly analog synths, rigid disco beats, lacquered hair). With these elements, they shock the New Wave corpse back to life.
On this debut disc, however, we hear a surprisingly refined Epoxies. Rather than writhing madly, singer Roxy Epoxy actually sings with cool clarity, while keytar-toting crazyman Fritz M. Static seems content to share the mix with Viz Spectrum's frisky guitar and the stiff rhythms of bassist Kid Polymer and drummer Dr. Grip. Onstage, the Epoxies are plastic explosive; here, they're the sequel to Liquid Sky: artsy, alien and excessively familiar all at the same time.
- John Graham, Willamette Week
Slowly but surely good New Wave has been making a comeback. With Portland Oregon's Epoxies it's back in full force. When I say New Wave I am not referring to insipid dance bands such as Duran Duran or Depeche Mode. I'm talking about the classic sounds of Blondie, Elvis Costello, Talking Heads, The Pretenders, Devo, or lesser known acts such as Psychotic Pineapple and Los Reactors. It seems the current scene is particularly explosive in the rainy Pacific Northwest. Dirtnap Records is based in Seattle and has brought us other outstanding Punk-Wave bands from that area such as The Spits and The Briefs.
The Epoxies new full length opens with the A side from their recent 7", "Need More Time". It explodes out of the speakers in leaps and bounds, hitting us first with the anchoring synthesizers of Fritz M. Static. Real monophonic analog sounds baby, none of that digital computer crap. Powerfully aggressive beeps, blips, and zaps a la Devo. The main deal with Mr. Static's keyboards is the fact that he is using NO sequencers and NO pre-programming-every note is live! From the opening synth parts the guitar comes forth in a big way courtesy of Viz Spectrum, giving the track it's Punky Power. Then to complete The Epoxies unique vision we are graced with the wonderful voice of Roxy Epoxy. Try to imagine the full voice of early Deborah Harry yet in the 21st century. Throw in some of Chrissie Hynde's power, yet know that Roxy is very individualistic in her own right. Lest we forget the killer rhythm section of strongman drummer Dr. Grip and neat-o bass player Kid Polymer. ALL ten songs are superb, making it virtually impossible to pick a favorite. Every track treats you to hooks galore. Such as "(I Won't Hurt You Baby) Cross My Heart". I particularly dig the song "You", since it's hyper-fast and clocks in at a mere fifty-nine seconds. They slow the pace down a tad on the next cut, the science fiction sounding "Stop Looking At Me". Good oh-eee-oh background vocals on that one. "Bathroom Stall" has irresistible Power-Pop riffs and oh my what lyrics: "Hey there baby doll/come with me in the bathroom stall/or anywhere anyway you please. Hey there lover please/I'm begging you/I'm on my knees/It's cruel to make me wait a second more. Cuz you know you got me/I can't wait/Wait to have you on the floor/Wait to get inside your door/I can't stand it anymore oh no. Come here cutie pie/I need your kiss/I'd rather die/I'm waiting here waiting here for you…".
As you can well imagine, after typing the preceding words I let out a teenage crush-type sigh. Then we hear The Epoxies get space-age again with the B side of their 7", "Molded Plastic". The synth playing here screams with robotic fervor. Very rarely can a band capture their live energy on record. As great as the debut Epoxies recording is, I never imagined they would be as spectacular live as they were. They definitely transcended the record. The rest of the band was as loud as the keyboards, which are more upfront on the LP. Plus the entire group has major stage presence and energy and amazingly theatrical New Wavey wardrobes. As fun as the four boys on their instruments were to watch, all eyes were on the charismatic Roxy Epoxy. She PERFORMS with such graceful style and sensuality with total Punk Rock energy. What a combination. She had the entire audience, man and woman alike, in the palms of her young hands.
- Barry Red Devil, Section M Magazine
New Wave from Portland, Oregon" Is what their website exclaims! Wow, new wave from anywhere is pretty exciting but from anywhere in the North-West makes it even better because they’ll probably play Vancouver on tour more than once. The one time the Epoxies did play here so far I was out of town… Boo! But my friend bought me their 7-inch and ever since I’ve been a fan. This is their debut s/t record which I had to buy on CD because Scratch records was sold out of the vinyl. Boo again! The Epoxies have a totally classic new wave look with lots of stripes, checkers, white sunglasses, and anything else that comes in b&w! They remind me sooo much of the Revillos in their get-up and all their stage names such as Dr. Grip, Viz Spectrum, and Roxy Epoxy. Their sound is a retro take on the underground of 70s/80s new wave/punk with an emphasis on synthesizers and trembley guitars topped with girl vocals. In their live show they even cover "the Professionals" song from Ladies and Gentlemen the Fabulous Stains along with an Adam and the Ants cover! The latter can be found on their debut 7-inch. If you have memories of a happier time in music this record brings those back in full effect. Back when bands dressed silly like characters from 1950s sci-fi movies and made cute little gems based on having fun and being able to dance. Yeah!
- Mar, CoolGrrls.com
The new wave had to come out of punk music. The emphasis on musical simplicity (not to mention a reliance on three chords and a dream) was a reaction to seventies hard rock excess and disco, to be sure, but it sure helped that a few freaks with weird hair led the way. The Epoxies bring those heady days of the early new wave back, but with an almost self-conscious punk sound and attitude. Yes, there are tinny synthesizers, but Roxy Epoxy (even the name screams punk) growls as much as sings. She holds the tunes with power. And when it really matters, the Epoxies drive the songs faster and faster, eschewing melody for more basic instincts. Gloriously frantic and wonderfully pretty to boot. Um, yeah, this is one of those ear candy moments for me. The Epoxies update the new wave with some real style, but I'm not worried about specifics. I just love the way this album sounds.
- John Worley, A&A
Which for older terms, which a crack LP on the flea market appreciates and as far as it removed its collections that the good Kim savage (today she makes a Gaertnershow) is not missing also in the shelf. The Epoxies is American Totalretro, to which accurately like a hybrid clone from Toyah Willcox and evenly Kim savage sounds, to who still another little more was added 77er Punk. Wer's does not believe, which should itself convince, I would also not have it believed, if I had not heard it. Who stands on the whole Girliepunks such as Siouxsie, x-Ray-Spex and Konsorten, which can themselves buy in the year 2002 also times again a new plate and the x-width unit does not have to fall back republication to, which brings nothing new nevertheless! (Dirtnap, PO BOX 21249, Seattle, WA the 98111 - USA in Germany gab's the plate with x-muck)
- Bob Torture, (Translated from German)
Man, this is fucking amazing!! It’s one of those records that straight from the look of it, just the cover and the way it’s presented, you know it’s gonna fucking blow your mind. Plus, it’s on Dirtnap and that’s usually a good indication that it’s gonna do that anyway. The songs are written so well and I can honestly say that there is not a weak track on this. The production is perfect on this record, because sometimes when you have keyboards it can get lost behind the guitars and create a bit of a murky sound- but it’s fucking crisp all the way on this! ‘Losing Control’ going straight into ‘Bathroom Stall’ is the highlight of the album for me and it is fucking mind-blowingly good. ‘Stop Looking at Me’, ‘Need More Time’, ‘Molded Plastic’, ‘Cross My Heart’ are all fantastic- but that goes for the entire package. It’s not like this sytle of New Wave Punk Rock has never been done before- but The Epoxies have a really original sound. It really is a breath of fresh air in these shit Punk Rock times.
- Marco, No Front Teeth
In the real 80s, new-wavers were aspirant nouveau-riche mopes who hung out at the mall. Punks were unwashed sociopaths in baggy trenchcoats who hung out at the bus station. The music was conditioned chiefly by miasmal self-loathing, with an occasional rave-up about blowing up hippies (punk) or having a robot girlfriend (new wave). But today we have nostalgia 80s, and it's 100 times better than the real thing. This is an alternate reality where the Revillos are superstars, the Buggles have more than one song, and no one thinks Devo is a novelty band. This is a vision crystallized in Epoxies, where keyboards are crunchy, melodies are exhilarating, lyrics are evocative, and stripes are terminally stylish. This is the fake 80s, and it's one of the best places to be in 2003. And finally, it's so nice to hear a woman sing with a woman's voice, instead of that of a cranky toddler or Melanie.
- JR, Art School Punk.com
The Epoxies are what New Wave would have sounded like if it had actually been a genre that came from the garage instead of being cooked up by the record industry to "deal" with punk. This album spent a lot of time in my car cd player this year. Thank you Corey, for introducing me to this band.
- Ryan Revenge, Spitshine Records 2002 year-end fan review
The Epoxies are that band that you and your loser friends have been talking about starting for years. But you never got your lazy asses off the couch and did anything, and meanwhile the Epoxies beat ya to the punch. And THEN they had the nerve to be better than your own band ever coulda been, forever grounding your dreams of new wave stardom. Sucks for you, doesn’t it?
Retro futurism may indeed be back in style, but Portland’s Epoxies aren’t mere dimestore revivalists. Punky new wave synth-pop has ALWAYS been a good idea; in the hands of the Epoxies, it’s that and so much more. The band’s first LP revisits the same formula that made its debut EP such a treat, recalling (but not aping) the quirky heroics of The Rezillos, Devo, The Cars, and Adam & the Ants (among others). But style points aside, this is good shit. The songs are upbeat, appealing little pop ditties; their winning melodies and punchy choruses are the substance behind the band’s new wave sci-fi dance party. With a solid guitar buzz, a peppy rhythm section, dead-on backing vocals, red-hot keyboard action, and Roxy Epoxy’s Fay Fife-ish pipes working in their favors, these tunes rise far above the usual run-of-the-mill 80’s nostalgia tripping. There may be no one devastating knockout smash hit; but from start to finish, this is a damn good album. If it’s “authenticity” you crave, the LP could indeed pass for a buried gem circa 1980. But if it’s good songs you’re after, you won’t be let down on THAT end, either.
Is it just me, or has Robin Williams not been funny since MORK AND MINDY?
- Josh Rutledge, Now Wave
If you've still got a lil' soft spot in your heart for the energetic, bubblegum-snappin' new wave sparkplugs like Josie Cotton or Kim Wilde, you don't wanna miss the Epoxies from Portland, OR. They are a bazooka blast of '80s good times. Brightly hued, skinny-tied, stripe-y legged, duct-tape accessorized and kooky pseudonymed. So very John Hughes teen movie soundtrack perfect, you can almost imagine them rockin' out a version of Karla DeVito's Breakfast Club hit "We Are Not Alone". No, they're not bringing anything new to the table, but they certainly write ultra-catchy, snappy tunes. Super earnest, enthusiastic and a bit geeky, it's as if a time machine plucked them right out of '85. Full of punchy-crunchy guitar, squidgy-weeny keyboards and sorta-yodelled oh-eee-oh-eee-oh backing vocals. Lead singer Roxy Epoxy possesses such the perfect pipes to capture the poppy, punky spirit - running from Dale Bozzio's hiccup-squeak to Ms Wilde's more throaty delivery - that we can forgive the somewhat off-kilter boy vocals of keyboardist Fritz M. Static. Heck, if the Muffs hadn't already beat them to it, they'd probably do a bang-up job covering "Kids In America". C'mon, can't ya feel that ol' herky jerk pogo dance a-twitchin' in your bones? Don't deny it. Join me on this one!
- Aquarius Records
I was still recovering from the The Epoxies attack that occurred this winter when I opened my mailbox to find they were back to beat me once more. This time they brought day-glo brass knuckles and baseball bats, or perhaps duct tape and plastic glasses is more fitting.
Whether you are ready or not the future has arrived. For New Wave dorks in the ‘80s the obsession was 2002 and other ominous sounding lands of the future. They were in fact often attempting to make the music of the future. Keyboards, robotic dance moves, flashing lights, angular glasses, skinny ties, stripes, polka dots and lots of day-glo, these things were futuristic. Today, in the future, what was once deemed futuristic is now called retro. The Epoxies are no retro outfit. They’re actually from the ‘80s. It’s true, I asked them. "Were you ever in the ‘80s?" I said. "Yes, we spent ten years there," they replied, albeit androidishly. They didn’t stipulate whether we were talking 1980s or 2080s, and I probed no further. I’m not sure we were meant to know.
There seems to be some dissent amongst the ranks of music diggers on whether or not The Epoxies are as hot as people such as myself make them out to be. I personally vaporized every single dissenter with my Epoxitron 9000 pocket-sized, day-glo-polka-dot laser blaster.
There is nothing wrong with The Epoxies. It is you who is sick. Look in the mirror. You’re turning day-glo. Roxy Epoxy is squeaking out a New Wave love song while you gasp for air. The world’s end is approaching and you’re wasting time rubbing your cock to the latest smash hit from Socal. The Epoxies have limited space in their sexed-up time traveling New Wave space ship and you’re going to be fucked when it dissolves into the atmosphere and heads for unknown dimensions far away from the doomed planet Earth. Get on the Epoxy-ship while you still can. Get on. Get on.
The Epoxy-ship is filled with the sounds of the constant droning, humming, buzz of punchy, dance-inducing synthesizers. The ship also contains blasts of fuzzed-up guitars and plenty of hot, future-drenched rock and roll leads. The ship is always hopping and packed with day-glo clad, duct tape wrapped teens shaking their striped hips to the robotic beat. The Epoxy-ship is controlled by Roxy Epoxy. Roxy knows how to whip up a funtime and she will relay many messages to you while you are dancing on her ship. With the help of her futuristic-bleating, yodeling, backing-vocal-harmonizing, haranguing zealots; she’ll tell you about teenage basement boredom, she’ll sneer at you and let you know that while the future is indeed bleak, dying, cold and full of love being bought; she’s "not in love, and [she] don’t want to." You have a hard time believing this when she begins lamenting the inevitability of Earth’s demise and her comfort in knowing she’ll be fine as long as she’s locked up in her lover’s lips. The keyboards will help send her message, and your rock and roll beating heart, flying into the stars. It’ll keep droning and Roxy will flip that odd and mysterious switch located in the small of her back. She’ll start choking, she’ll become desperate, she’ll squawk, she’ll croak, she’ll bleat, she’ll rant and rave. Why won’t you love her? She needs to know. She "can’t get through to you." She tries using science, it doesn’t seem to help. She’s "got tits and ass," she’s "got bras and panties," but she still "can’t get through to you." A day-glo tear slides across her cheek. You suspected she was a robot or some kind, but robots can’t cry, can they?
You give in to her pleading. She hits her switch once more and relays a promise not to break the heart you’ve just given her. You feel relieved and start moving your feet to the beating of the synthed-up sounds. Roxy dances along, stiff armed and smiling seductively. She hits her switch again and starts spazzing. She’s freaking out all around the ship’s day-glo dance floor. She starts spouting and shouting. You can’t decipher a word she says although you swear you catch something about masturbation. The keyboard overloads and goes on the fritz. Roxy starts laughing/chanting maniacally and uncontrollably. You panic. You smash against the walls. Viz Spectrum smashes you back. Kid Polymer clambers onto your shoulders as you crush your frame into the drum set. Dr. Grip smacks you with a day-glo drum stick. Fritz Static zaps you with his keyboard of lust. You stop and stare into Roxy’s eyes. Roxy tells you to stop looking at her. You try to tell her she’s the most amazing girl, that you’ve ever clambered into. She won’t hear it. She swears she’s no good. She swears she’s uncool and not worth very much. Fritz’s yodeling soars behind her. The fuzzed up keyboards torment your eardrums and send your guts swirling into your voice box. You can’t stop looking at Roxy. She’s got you mesmerized. She may not be in love but you’re fairly certain that’s the only thing you are at the moment. Her sexed up, luscious New Wave squelching and vocal hiccuping is too much for you to stand. You think you may be losing control. Roxy agrees. "We are all losing control!" she yelps. She’s railing against your life. You agree, things are out of control. Fritz starts echoing her, Roxy starts echoing him. The whole thing flies 18,000 light years into your frontal lobe. The song loses control and you start shouting along with them. Roxy starts vocalizing so as to send your mind spinning, you think this may be the end, you can’t possibly handle any more. It stops and the synths start droning out a melody that sends your heart into convulsions. Viz starts palm muting his chords. Everything slows down as Roxy starts lasciviously relaying a message. She sounds coy and submissive. She sounds like she’s longing for you just as you long for her. She tells you to meet her "in the bathroom stall, or anywhere you please." She tells you she wants you on the floor. She’ll die without you. This time the day-glo streaks-on-face are owned by you. If this is what New Wave love is like then you need no other. Not punk rock, not even rock and roll. New Wave love is the only love for you. The synths bleat out that heart-wrenching tune, Roxy harmonizes and falls a little deeper inside of you.
Again she hits that oddest of odd switches in her back. She’s got something else to relay. It’s just as you had suspected, she’s "made from molded plastic," she’s not human. You don’t care one bit. If loving an android is the worst thing necessary to be with her, then love an android you will. Besides, you can’t escape now. She has complete control of you. You’re jammed on the good ship Epoxy for the rest of your life span. There is no escape, but you’re not looking for one. The synths start to blare like the sound of one thousand phones that have fallen off the hook and onto the floor. Roxy breaks through them plaintively and delivers another message. She’s been waiting for you her entire life, but she’s warning you to leave. The world she’s living in will certainly cause your demise. She’s not so sure even she can take it any longer. She wants you to take her with you. She isn’t making any sense. You assure her things will be just fine. You remind her you are both on a ship that’s blasting out of the galaxy and away from impending doom. For some reason she won’t stop wailing, her voice is killing you. Your heart is breaking right in front of her eyes and she’s the one begging you, but for what? You suspect that she’s trying to say something else entirely, its almost as if she’s saying farewell. Her voice cracks and it’s all over. The Epoxy-ship spins out of sight and she’s gone. You start climbing the walls in desperation. You break a window but all you get is fresh air. You kick a hole in the door but all you get is a broken toe.
Then you glance over at your bed and see it lying there. The Epoxies have left you a gift. You secretly hope it’s from Roxy and Roxy only. You place it in your audio system and let it wash over you. For a half hour it’s as if you’re staring into Roxy’s seductive stare once again while listening to your entire relationship unfold once again. It’s all there, all the beauteous noise.
You start to spread the word. You hit the streets in polka dots and plastic glasses. You form an X with duct tape and plant it on your chest, hoping Roxy will come back for her lost treasure. You force The Epoxies on your friends. They start wearing skinny ties. You all start dancing a whole lot more. Your lives become fun once again. The Epoxies have saved you. The Epoxies have saved the future.
- Lew, Vinyl A Go Go
Need More Tome 7" Reviews
Ken at Dirtnap had told me about these guys sometime ago and I've been looking forward to it ever since. It was well worth the wait. This also could have been on the Valley Girl Sound track. If there is such thing as New Wave then this is it. It is New Wave influenced by Punk Rock that's for sure. Loud guitars, cool girl vocals and a great sounding key board that's done right. They also do my favorite Adam & The Ants song on the B-Side. Buy this to find out which song. I think Dirtnap has scored another "Buzz" band with this release. Expect a new full length in the Spring. For all you 30- somethings out there, this will bring back some memories!
- Pat, ROCK N ROLL OUTBREAK
Here's ANOTHER kick-ass release from Dirtnap Records---and it makes me nostalgic as hell! I'm 10 years old again; I'm playing Pac-Man, watching cartoons, and hearing Devo & Blondie on the radio. The way-back machine has been set for 1981, and we're ready to dig into some splendorous retro-futurism! I hate to sound clichéd, but the Epoxies' debut really DOES sound like it could have been recorded two decades ago. And I mean that in a GOOD way! I'm talking about three prime cuts of killer new-wave-punk skillfully wedded to spunky, quirk-a-licious synth-pop! 20 years ago, this was the SOUND OF THE FUTURE! This EP ROCKS, man. It's catchy, bouncy, and totally twisted. It's got the bizarro sci-fi vibe and the pleasing pop sensibility. And up front is a robotic ice queen crooner who can really belt it out! Lots of folks are trying to sound all 80's these days, but few can pull it off. Epoxies, however, are the REAL DEAL! "Need More Time" and "Molded Plastic" are both rippin' originals, and then the band closes the deal with a fucking fine cover of the Adam and the Ants classic "Beat My Guest"! Sweet!
- Josh Rutledge, Pee Pee/Now Wave Magazine
OK...this cool chick named Jaki sent me a few zines and records from her corner of the world (Portland OR.), and among them was a record by this band called The Epoxies, whom I'd never heard of before. Their Star-Trek glasses, striped shirts, new-wavey punk clothes, and girl singer made me realize that this was gonna be a great record before I even got to put it on the record player. Well, as usual, I can tell quite a bit about a record just by looking at its cover. This bunch of people who dress like a 1950's version of "the future" play a cool mix of early 1980's punk and new-wave type of sound at the turn of the millenium. Confused yet? Don't worry! One listen to this record will turn you into an instant fan. The best comparison I can make here is Adam Ant (when he was still cool), because of the yodelling/singing that Roxy Epoxy pulls off. The Adam Ant influence becomes even more obvious when you flip over to side-B and let the cover of Beat My Guest tear its way out of your speakers. Catchy punk riffs, just enough added synth to spice it up, and Roxy Epoxy's powerful female vocals make this one hell of a record. A really refreshing mix of many things from the past!
- Vic, Worldwide Punk
Wacky new wave influenced punk, which is just what you'd expect from a band that has three of five members wearing those thin space age looking sun glasses on the sleeve. Throaty Debbie Harry crossed with Penelope Houston female vocals combined with plenty of cheesy keyboards driving the music, along with some solid fuzz guitar. Easily fits into the same camp as Devo musically; they do a nifty cover of Adam Ant's "Beat My Guest". I can only imagine that they'd be a complete blast live, as you drift into that 80's time warp.
- ShreddingRadio.com
The Epoxies are trying to kill me! When an envelope from Dirtnap Records, the label responsible for unleashing The Briefson an unsuspecting but desperate underground public, arrived in my mailbox I greedily ripped it open to find one of the most visually arresting picture sleeves these sleep deprived eyes have laid eyes on in months. I suppose you can see it in all its glory directly above and to the left. It’s an ultra-hip blend of New Wave/Punk Rock stripes and a photo of the band giving off a desperate, stalwart plastic-glasses-clad stare whilst bathed in a fluorescent green spaceship beam. My immediate reaction was to gun my car back down the driveway and smack the record on the turntable without wasting a minute more of my precious time on that visit to the dentist I’d already put off for much too long. However, a sudden dose of anxiety gripped my frame as I recalled several singles released in 2001 that featured some pretty rad cover art, but turned out to be nothing more than glorified wax-cast coasters dressed up in their punk rock/rock and roll Sunday best. Surely this would be the case with The Epoxies. No band could deliver the goods that a cover of this magnitude portended. Or could they? I wasn’t prepared to find out. I went to the dentist instead, leaving The Epoxies on the passenger seat. Every now and then I’d glance at the cover and there they stood, staring back at me-begging, threatening, desperately pleading with me to give them a spin. I wouldn’t relent. I kept on driving.
Fucked up things started to happen. The dentist diagnosed what I had thought was merely a shard of a popcorn kernel wedged between my back morals, to be an abscessed tooth. Surgery was scheduled for later that day. Ouch.
During my attempt to waste time before the surgery I popped The Vapor’s New Clear Days into my tape deck and cruised the streets of my asphyxiated hometown, blasting out the sounds of should-have-been-hits like "Spring Collection" and "News at Ten," as well as that song your sisters get a kick out of…you know "Turning Japanese." Blasting The Vapors at top volume and driving around the block sixteen times is of course what any twenty year old bored with life and looking for some action is apt to do on a Friday afternoon while wasting time until his oral surgery is slated to begin. Unbeknownst to me, as the sounds of The Vapors was filling the air around my ears, a much different kind of vapors were filling the air around my nose and throat. Before I passed out I glanced in the back seat, catching The Epoxies penetrating stare as I did so, and noticed a bottle of Windex that had burst open and soaked the back seat.
I woke up inside the local music store. The shyster owner’s brains were splayed all over my windshield. Myself and The Epoxies managed to keep ourselves together. The inventory was not so lucky. There were guitars, keyboards, and snare drums flung about the store’s remains in giant piles of musical destruction. I packed my trunk full of as many functional instruments as I could grab and backed my Buick out of the store, heading straight for the dentist.
The dentist said I looked pretty good despite the wreck. I didn’t feel so hot after he got through with me. My mouth felt like I’d munched on grilled glass sandwiches for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When I finally arrived home I wasn’t up for much but lying in bed and listening to records. I grabbed a stack of my favorite misery alleviating LPs, threw my headphones on, and pulled the covers up over my head. After that pile ran out I leapt off my mattress-on-the-floor of a bed, again catching that unrelenting single out of the corner of my eye. I still couldn’t do it. After all I had been through that day I wasn’t up for being let down by such a promising band. I grabbed a new stack of wax and hopped back onto my mattress. As soon as my left foot hit the bed a spring popped through the sheets and plunged into my foot.
"Fuck me". I started bleeding, turning white to red and having no choice but to change my sheets. When I got back the Epoxies single was lying twenty feet from its original location, now occupying the space directly beside my turntable. I could have sworn the once desperately stalwart band was now mocking me. It was obvious that all of these sudden catastrophes in conjunction with the arrival of The Epoxies record and my subsequent fear of spinning it, was no coincidence. The Epoxies were determined to have that needle jabbed into their grooves. After what I’d seen they were capable of I wasn’t about to deny them that pleasure. Fuck changing the sheets. I needed to spin this record immediately. I sat in a pool of my own blood and plunked the platter on my turntable. After the first ten seconds I was ecstatic that The Epoxies had beat me so badly. It turns out they weren’t quite as good as the cover made them out to be. They were better!
An electric drone from a synthesizer/keyboard greeted my battered eardrums and faded out as more synthy keyboard action started up the beat. Then came Roxy Epoxy, the bands unfathomable front-girl, sounding like nothing less than a sexier, snottier version of Fay Fife of the almighty Rezillos/Revillos. At times Roxy’s vocal inflections hold the ability to unleash an aural orgasm so powerful it will cover your jeans in day-glo stripes and polka dots, whilst blasting a pair of New Wave-plastic glasses onto your head and simultaneously wrapping your torso in electrical tape.
The Epoxies have been sent from the future to save our past. New Wave has risen from our past with a buzz-laden injection of punk rock attitude and some of the most infectious tunes this pop mangled brain has had the pleasure of being electrocuted by. The guitars buzz and blast; the drum beats them back; and the keyboard hums, bleeps, blips, makes unpredictable but well timed mysterious noises, and provides a constant drone throughout much of the two A-Side hits, even contributing some slowed up electrified Fifties-farfisa-like stuff.
This is electric New Wave smothered in punk cool and containing enough pop to make the opening track, "Need More Time" the one song that I demand be played on Top 40 radio until the old wave crumbles to its knees and the New Wave takes over.
The lyrics contained on said song conjure up images of claustrophobic, isolated boredom and anxiety ridden sudden catastrophe. All delivered by Roxy who has the only set of punked-up female pipes contributing anything remotely invigorating into the world of underground rock and roll at the current moment. The backing vocals of one Moxie Static, aka Jesse Sutherland (yes Mutant Pop heads, THE Jesse Sutherland of Automatics fame, although he goes by that new very New Wavey moniker and has traded in his trademark guitar for a keyboard). Any Auto’s freak will instantly recognize his vocals, a slightly warped and mangled version of the "oh way oh’s" he provided for The Autos, this time more of an "oh ee oh ee oh," that flat-out fucking jab me in the ear, piercing my guts and heart in the process. Then Roxy’s voice cracks and she soon pronounces "nose" like only she can, causing my stomach to burst and nothing but sweet, swirling, funtime feelings to come shooting out-bouncing off the walls and smacking me in the head. The second A-Side tune, "Molded Plastic," starts out with a brooding bass line and then hits you with a staccato blast of a buzzy, punchy guitar attack combined with Roxy zipping out lines like a snotty New Wave robot. The keyboard blips and bleeps, itself sounding like a speechless-hammer damaged robot. Then the whole thing hits the chorus, in which Roxy again slays me with her vocalizations (did I mention that her vocals dig at my soul?). I could listen to her roll the word "are" off of her tongue all day and all of the night. The keyboard starts sounding like that demented dentist’s drill, which makes my teeth ache a bit with bad memories. The drilling ends as the keyboard freaks out and sounds like a drill hyper-driven into your skull. This helps to lend a little havoc and unpredictable edge to the proceedings.
I’m not exactly sure what Roxy’s going on about, but I dig it just the same. I believe she’s playing the role of some sort of sexed up, dominating robot who’s seductive powers can’t be resisted-allowing her to crush all who stand in her way. I see no point in arguing the opposite. The song implodes with Roxy delivering the final line in a desperately, bleakly commanding shout of "I'm made from molded plastic!" Indeed. The flip features a cover of the Adam Ant tune "Beat My Guest," that makes me whimper and scramble to the record store in hopes that they haven’t sold those Adam Ant LPs I’ve been lamely flipping past for months. The song’s delivered in such a fervent manner and the entire band bashes out the chanting, hollering layered backing vocals (with Roxy providing extra yodeled-out vocals) with such passion that its nothing but a pure fun-filled, gut tingling romp. Must be an instant hit in the live setting. Apparently the North West of these glorious United States is not currently lacking in cutting edge, action packed, electric tape-clad rock and rollers. I’m just glad that Dirtnap is there to export the infectious sounds and rock and roll excitement.
This record isn’t leaving my sight and sound until the forthcoming LP finally hits the dull and drooling streets and electrifies the underground masses. If The Epoxies decide I have to die anyway that’s fine with me. Of all the ways to die in this horrible, perverse world, death by The Epoxies is quite possibly the best…
- Lew, Vinyl A Go Go