Tag Archives: Full On Blown Apart

Under The Radar: Bad Rackets

Another blind grab from the CD racks today (a little musical roulette game I play when I’m not sure what I’m in the mood to hear). Gotta love an album titled Full On Blown Apart, especially when that’s what you feel like doing to your head. The band describes their sound as cheap beer sizzling on vacuum tubes.

I never heard of The Bad Rackets before or since, so I’m figuring they’re a likely candidate to have sailed under your radar as well. Unfortunately it looks like they shuffled personnel in 2009 and then finally bit the dust. But they left us this testament to the effort, so we got that going for us…which is nice.

If nothing else, you have to see this hilarious video. (No, it’s never too late to take a shot at George W. Bush).

Video:  “Somebody Dropped The Baby

Here’s my review from a 2006 issue of Pop Culture Press:

Austin’s powerpop-punk quartet fills the void between early sloppy Replacements and…well, the early Replacements if they were just a little tighter. In other words, the alcoholic vocals and off key guitar solos are propped up by the brash power chords of the Buzzcocks and Sex Pistols mixed with the throbbing bass lines and snare-snapping drums of (your favorite Britpop band name here).

It’s young, it’s loud and it’s snotty, and if that phrase reminds you of a certain band, you’re on the right track. If not, how about song titles like “Porno Magazines”, “Everybody’s A Loser” and “Atom Smasher” (that’s parts one and two, mind you). Just like the early Mats, Kevin Owens’ vocals and the raw musicianship are enough of a rough edge to terrify program directors from coast to coast. But that’s why God gave you a pair of ears, Sparky.

The guys in Bad Rackets are all Texas bar rats and club band vets, though sight unseen you’d swear it was four eighteen year olds plagiarizing their older brother’s punk pop collection for the first time. Damned if there aren’t multiple hooks in every song, and if you aren’t bouncing off the wall or changing lanes like a madman while songs like “CandyDish” are melting your car speakers, something is seriously wrong with you. Get the chairs off the dance floor and start self medicating, because you’re gonna need it.

The Bad Rackets on MySpace

Listen to clips at Amazon

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