Zero Boys

Vicious Circle

(Secretly Canadian)

Record Review by Adam McKibbin

Two of the best indie labels in all the land have started 2009 with some atypical edge and high volume.  Over in the Merge camp, there are fresh reissues of two fine Volcano Suns albums, while Secretly Canadian has gotten behind Midwestern punks Zero Boys.  1982’s Vicious Circle remains a vital-sounding document of those early Reagan years, as the second wave of American punk continued its spread from coast to coast.  It was a heady time; bands like X, the Minutemen, Dead Kennedys and Minor Threat were also in their early years.  But while those bands would all secure places in history, Zero Boys wound up with a slipperier spot.  Vicious Circle, as it turned out, was more than just an arrival – it was also a swan song of sorts.  The band dissolved shortly thereafter, and while they would reunite in the early ‘90s, clearly a chapter had been closed.

So what were a bunch of Indianapolis punks thinking about in 1982?  Drugs, for one.  Current events, for another.  On “Civilization’s Dying,” one of the album’s key tracks, singer Paul-Z hollers “For the Pope and the President and the big rock star who made a lot of money / All got one thing in common… They know it ain’t no fun to get shot with a gun!”  In every photo in the liner notes, Paul-Z is the Zero Boy who seems particularly possessed by the noise they’re generating.  Though clearly inspired by the punk records that had finally trickled into Indianapolis stores, there isn’t a self-conscious effort to mimic any of the giants.  Even if all the stars aligned, there didn’t seem to be much future in punk rock; this was well before the commercial success of bands like Green Day.  As the liner notes point out (critically), Dead Kennedys leader Jello Biafra even talked the band into leaving “She Said Goodbye” and “Slam and Worm” off the album because they were too poppy.  They reappear here, and both are welcome additions. 

Almost everything on Vicious Circle comes whirring at the listener rapid-fire [16 tracks in 26 minutes].  In his liner notes, Jack Rabid points out that David “Tufty” Clough was the “fastest bassist in U.S. underground history this side of The Minutemen’s Mike Watt.”  The speed isn’t overcompensating for other shortcomings, though – they pack a melodic punch into those short bursts of songs (Jello Biafra be damned!).  There’s plenty that taps deeply and angrily into the ‘80s zeitgeist – not just with references to Lennon’s murder, but more poignantly with the rejection of hippie culture played out side-by-side with the fear of the hedonistic, drug-fueled, Me decade that was replacing it.