The Local Anesthetic

Tonight, when I get down on my creaky knees to offer up props to The Maker, I'll start by giving thanks for the usual things, in no particular order: Red's Savoy Pizza, Cuisinart blenders, thigh-high stockings, the polio vaccine and the demise of Pink's marriage; give me a ring if you need to talk, girl. Lately, though, I've found myself tossing in a good word for the fine folks over at Smooch Records, who offer empirical proof that the Lord, does indeed, work in mysterious ways.

A few months back, Smooch scored big with a 2CD release of rare tracks from Denver's Soul Merchants. This time, they've set their sites on the entire back catalog of 7" singles from Local Anesthetic, the in-store label for Denver's famed Wax Trax Records. I don't have to tell you that the official history of these operations can be foggy at best, but the Local Anesthetic mythology suggests that the label was created for the sole purpose of releasing Birdbrain, a collaboration of Denver's Gluons with (wait for it) the late Allen Ginsberg, who was a part-time Colorado resident, as well as a full-time self-promoter. That track will no doubt put some asses in the seats, but there are far brighter jewels for the intrepid listener.

From a Musicology 101 perspective, the holy grail is Frantix' arcanely-titled My Dad's A Fucking Alcoholic. Again, history is a tricky thing, but this moving 3-minute family study reportedly inspired at least two young music geeks to track down the record's producer. The producer? Soul Merchant, Bob Ferbrache. The geeks? Peter Buck and Thurston Moore. Gotta love it when you can put a bow like that on a paragraph.

Superficially, Local Anesthetic was a punk label, but from 1977-1983 they released singles for bands that dabbled in goth, new wave and hardcore. For my money, White Trash is the band that makes the most noise (literally and figuratively) on this record. Tracks like Nazis In My Neighborhood and anti-Reagan rant Ballad Of Ronnie Raygun hold their own with some the best punk anthems of this era. By the way, does anyone else miss songs about Nazis? What happened to all the Nazis we were railing against back then?

Tough questions aside, these numbers tell the story: 10 bands, 23 tracks, 80 minutes (when Allen G grips the mic, he's not giving it up without a fight). So, if you think great American punk was limited to NYC and LA, do yourself a favor and pick up The Local Anesthetic. And whoever your preferred deity (or deities), do me a solid and put in a good word for the guys and girls at Smooch.

White Trash - Wake Up
Rok Tots - Suicide Weekend

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