The Flexual Predator (Logo Power #9)

All Seeing Eye

In honor of the fabled Flex/Violent Reaction tour which recently hit Yankee shores, I'm inclined to unearth this guy for the second installment of Flex-based logo discussions.

The show was great, somewhat sparsely attended, but that's what I'd really expect for a hardcore house show in suburban Salt Lake City that wasn't featuring any bands on the Reaper roster *sigh*. Obstruct opened, and I'd received their No Life 7" as part of a trade I'd completed. Rippers for certain and should be sought out by all.

Here's a crappy iPhone/Picstitch shot I got, courtesy of a small room, bad lighting, and my own criminal inability to take pictures that aren't awful. Still, it should showcase SOMETHING from that night.

Top: Violent RXN/Bottom: Walk in the red light w/ the Flex

Violent Reactions set rang perfect, the inclusion of the Cro-Mags "Don't Tread on Me," an obvious hit. City Streets is a damn good LP that you should seek out.

Before the Flex had set up, I'd spent some time in the garage shilling some old T-shirts and making conversation with the singer, mostly about wrestling in the UK. Turns out he was a big Ring of Honor fan, which endeared me to the band even more, and I bought a shirt. (As the picture indicates) they played in front of some red lights, creating an ultra sinister atmosphere, and when they covered "Kickback" by Breakdown, I absolutely saw someone get moshed into (and subsequently through) a wall. Suburban discipline.

This ain't a show review though, so I'll move on to the real "meat" of the matter (i.e. cartoons in hardcore). Skinheads appropriating HC iconography shouldn't raise any eyebrows, but I like the fact that this bloke's got an eyeball drawn on the back of his hand (symbolism there? IDK man), he's planting a Union Jack into a misproportioned globe and he's carrying what's either a boxcutter or a strange looking banana. Excellente. Flexual education. Flexual deviant. Flexual reproduction. God bless a band that opens themselves up to such seamless wordplay.

The Avon Ladies Bear (Logo Power #8)

It's certainly been a minute since I've posted one of these, so without any more "ado" let's get to discussing a band who, for my money, should've gotten a lot more hype than they did. Actually...we're just going to discuss that little bear up there.

I'm sure other artists have meddled with the idea of Jerry Garcia's psychedelic peace-bears, trying to toss their whole rose-colored ideology on its head. Maybe they've placed a joint or crack pipe into their furry, out-stretched paws or carved a swazi into their foreheads. (60's shit = Manson shit, funny story. The only time my Mom ever asked me to turn my music off was once when I was in high school. I was listening to Jefferson Airplane's "White Rabbit." She burst through the door, told me she didn't like it because it reminded her of all the worst parts of 60's culture and shut the door again.)

I'm not saying the A-Ladies were the first in their class to mess with the 'Dead bear. I am saying that I fell in love with them when I first saw their 7" cover of their Guns and Gold 7", which featured these cute little guys carrying machine guns and just looking badass. This is actually from an ad in Bloody Ways fanzine, posted for my own joy in seeing the machine gun that's been replaced by the ever-more-comical stick o' dynamite. This bear absolutely doesn't care about you or your commie political movement or your effort to rid the internet of (buzzword)-phobia. He's been around the block for far longer than you have. He knows rock n' roll. He was probably at altamont, gleefully cackling when a parkful of unknowing saps played witness to a hellish gangland murder as Mick n' Keith warbled on about banging prepubescents and such. When Sid n' Johnny cursed on Bill Grundy's TV show, he was feeding them their lines and when the last quivering vestige of anything remotely resembling a real-deal guitar GAWD got shot in the face at an Ohio rock club (Dimebag, RIP) this guy wasn't crying.

The guns are gone, only to be replaced by cartoonish explosives, rudimentary in design, but still indicative of one immediate truth: this is a suicide mission. Rock n' roll has been munching on its tail since Dylan went electric and there's no more sand in this etch-a-sketch.

(Editor's note: The Avon Ladies are [by my estimation] broken up. Thank jah for an internet that keeps every stinking thing around. There's a demo tape, a 7" a split with Tempe SS and some other bits and pieces floating around.)