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III

by Hank IV

supported by
Larry Pangle
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Joshua Bass
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Ned Raggett
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harveyhardcore
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/
1.
Garbage Star 02:37
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THERE’S SOMETHING STUCK INSIDE MY GRILL THERE’S SOMETHING TANGLED IN MY WHEELS COULDN’T GET TO SLEEP LAST NIGHT LOOKS LIKE WE’RE GOING TO FIGHT SCRAMBLE UP YOUR GARBAGE HEAP TO REACH THE TOP WOULD BE A FEAT ON THE THRONE THE KING OF JUNK YOU RULE A THEORY THAT’S BEEN DEBUNKED I GET SICK OF THE SAME OLD FACES HANGING AROUND YOU WASTE OF SPACES I JUST GET SO…. THERE’S SOMETHING STUCK INSIDE MY CRAW THERE’S SOMETHING GRINDING IN MY JAW FINGERS BLOODY MY ARMS ARE TIRED GUESS THAT’S HOW I WAS WIRED BURIED DEEP BENEATH THE EARTH LOOKS LIKE I’M NOT HERE FIRST A THOUSAND YEARS OF HUMAN TRASH LOOKS LIKE WE’RE GOING TO CRASH I GET SICK OF THE SAME OLD FACES HANGING AROUND YOU WASTE OF SPACES I JUST GET SO…. I GET SICK OF THE SAME OLD FACES HANGING AROUND YOU WASTE OF SPACES WHEN YOU’VE WON YOUR UNFINISHED RACES I’LL JUST BE HERE IN MY HAPPY PLACES AND I WONDER WHO YOU ARE ARE YOU JUST ANOTHER GARBAGE STAR? AND I WONDER WHO YOU ARE ARE YOU JUST ANOTHER GARBAGE STAR?
2.
Down in the Dumps 03:06
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Down in the dumps I got you a hat Down in the dumps You said, “I always wondered where you got that at” Down in the dumps You said, “I’m never, ever going back” Well, down in the dumps Yeah, that’s where it’s at You said, “It’s hard to believe that anyone could have taste so bad” You said, “It’s hard to believe that anyone could have taste so bad, but you do” The punks kept running up (X3) Down at the track I placed you a bet Down at the track You said, “You know, I’ve never had a winner yet” Down at the track You said, “I get the feeling that the fix is in” Yeah down at the track You’re cashing it in. You said, “It’s hard to believe that anyone could have luck so bad” You said, “It’s hard to believe that anyone could have luck so bad, But I do” The punks kept running up (X3)
3.
Security System 02:54
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BUILD ME A PRISON SECURTIY SYSTEM BUILD IT UP (ONE BAR AT A TIME) THROW ME IN BONDAGE PUT ME IN CHAINS I PUT ‘EM ON (ONE LINK AT A TIME) PUT ME IN SHACKLES PUT ON THE CUFFS I STEP IN THEM (ONE LEG AT A TIME) BUILD ME AN ISLAND LIMIT MY COASTLINE WASH AWAY (ONE GRAIN AT A TIME) WELL I’M AN OAF AND I’M AN APE SEE THE KNUCKLES DRAG WHEN I WALK FEEL THE SKIN SCRAPE SKIN! SCRAPE!
4.
Patient Zero 02:50
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Unable to avert my eyes The blue background of an F.S.I.* It’s just an impulse my spine did send I need some decompression I suffer from the bends Checking out for an hour or two When you’re standing there it’s just so hard to get through If reading “People’ seems to take you a while, Maybe sooth your pain with a little “In Style” Refilling my subscription Refilling my subscription Refilling my subscription I can’t not have my subscription Well it’s a feature lifestyle piece Continued opposite another recipe She had a problem with his little black book I should know I read it in “Redbook” Renewing my prescription Renewing my prescription Renewing my prescription I can’t not have my prescription Hey kids, Attention teens! It’s ranch-colored, white-flavored MSG Hey kids, Attention teens! It’s ranch-colored, white-flavored MSG On your veins And your face, and your arms Unable to avert my mind The blue background of an F.S.I. It’s just an impulse my eyes did send I need some absolution I’m coming to the end *FSI = free standing insert
5.
SFU 02:21
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SFU! IKT! SHIT’S FUCKED UP YOU KNOW I KNOW THIS AND I WOULDN’T I WOULDN’T PUT IT I WOULDN’T PUT IT WOULDN’T PUT IT PAST YOU YOU’D TAKE SOMETHING GOOD YOU’D TAKE PERFECTION AND GIVE IT A BLACK EYE AND I SHOULDN’T OF LET YOU I SHOULD’VE NEVER EVER LET YOU NEAR IT SFU! IKT! SHIT’S FUCKED UP YOU KNOW I KNOW THIS SFU! IKT! SHIT’S FUCKED UP YOU KNOW I KNOW THIS AND I WOULDN’T I WOULDN’T PUT IT I WOULDN’T PUT IT WOULDN’T PUT IT PAST YOU YOU’D TAKE SOMETHING GOOD YOU’D TAKE PERFECTION AND GIVE IT A BLACK EYE AND I SHOULDN’T OF LET YOU I SHOULD’VE NEVER EVER LET YOU TOUCH IT I SEE YOU I START RUNNING… SFU! SFU!
6.
Don't Count on It 04:31
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WELL I’M A CHEAT AND I’M A LIAR NOW THAT IT’S SETTLED YOU ARE FIRED I’M A PIG THAT’S FULL OF HATE A LOBSTER DINNER YOU CAN’T TASTE I’M AN APPLE FULL OF WORMS A CLIFF HANGER WHO’S PAGE WON’T TURN I’M A CREEP IT’S UNDERSTOOD I’LL DO YOU OVER YOU LIKE YOU KNEW I WOULD I’M A HOLE THAT’S GOT NO NAME AN EMPTY VESSEL YOU CAN’T SHAME THERE’S NOTHING WORTHWHILE INSIDE OF ME BUT YOU CAN POKE AROUND IF YOU WANT TO SEE A FERAL CAT YOU WANT TO TAME I’D PREFER YOU DIDN’T IF IT’S ALL THE SAME YOU THINK WE’D MAKE A PRETTY GOOD FIT OH BABY, DON’T COUNT ON IT DON'T COUNT ON IT! [It's so very hard to see, when you’re standing far from me You have a strange candescent glow, your eyes like pissholes in the snow] WELL I’M A CHEAT AND I’M A LIAR NOW THAT IT’S SETTLED YOU ARE FIRED I’M A PIG THAT’S FULL OF HATE A LOBSTER DINNER YOU CAN’T TASTE I’M AN APPLE FULL OF WORMS A CLIFF HANGER WHO’S PAGE WON’T TURN I’M A CREEP IT’S UNDERSTOOD I’LL DO YOU OVER YOU LIKE YOU KNEW I WOULD DON'T COUNT ON IT DON'T COUNT!
7.
Twice As Quit 03:40
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LOVE TO PLAY WITH FIRE AND GASOLINE BURN DOWN THE BEDS WHERE WE HAVE LAIN DON’T SEEK DESTRUCTION WE ARE DESTROYED AMONG THE ASHES OVERJOYED IT’S ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, IT’S ALL RIGHT, IT’S ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, IT’S ALL RIGHT IT’S ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT, IT’S ALL RIGHT IT’S ALL RIGHT YEAH. MILES APART’S NOT FAR ENOUGH BUILDING A WALL WITH WHAT’S LEFT OF US PRIVATE CELL – DANGEROUS BROKEN BODIES – RAPTURE US QUITTING, LEAVING I’M RUNNING ALONG THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US CAN’T BE TOO STRONG BEND IN THE ROAD LIKE THE CURVE OF YOUR SKIN DIGGING A HOLE I’LL NEVER FILL IN. I’M QUITTING I’M QUITTING I’M QUITTING I’M QUIT

about

"Hank IV play desperate man-style punk in the vein of Minute To Pray-era Flesheaters. Throw in some of the sociopathic scorch of The Pagans and touches of earlier Siltbreeze satellites like Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments and you got a great pro-rock primitive, one that combines accelerated jams with gut-busting vocals and the kinda furious delivery that makes it sound totally non-contemporary." – Volcanic Tongue

"I don’t care how many goddamn cute hobo bands there are out there right now. Not two runny shits. There’s something Hank IV knows that few of other current 'of interest' bands realize and it’s a painfully simple thing: guitars were meant to sound like THIS not that (pick something). That’s as plainly as it can be put. This is twin-guitar punk rock in a class of its own, driving more than dueling, and hot sauce free. I’d say “power with taste” but then I’d have to kill myself. I will say that III is Hank Baby’s third and finest album yet and they are, in short, a band whose every move is worthy of your utmost attention.

For this record (their second for Siltbreeze), Thee Hanks opted to spend zero dollars and buried themselves deep inside their very own Shill Building studio for good long while. Sightings became scarce. Promises of 'work' being 'done' were made but who really knew what was going on? To be fair, The Shill has its fair share of distractions. Imagine Plato’s Retreat, except like a basement in The Tenderloin. I think they only went outside for sandwiches from the East Coast West Deli on Polk St. Like that one time in the street when Bob McDonald told me about that Venom single he owns for the 17th time. Pfffft…Bob, playboy, inventor (of “The Full Compliment”), and as powerful and confounding a front man as you’re likely to find ambulating in today’s scene. Hawnk Quatre (as they’re called in France) is both an exercise and exorcism for this hardcore guy from Bum Kon all grown-up.

Anyway, the result of their self-imposed exile is this album bearing the aroma of fuck you coupled with a faint flutter of fuck me. It’s 8 songs in 25 minutes of loud, angry, intelligent, all rock’n’roll punk and it’s from San Francisco. Beyond that, the rhythms actually have a rhythm…a loud, all-rock rhythm, in fact. It’s shocking and practically akin to reinventing the wheel ‘round these un-rocking parts. Great…and now the world’ll probably explode. Do I gotta pick a cut to exalt? “Down In The Dumps” springs forth. Hopefully the punks follow suit. Portfolio played it for me when I visited and he just sat back, smiling. I was too. It was creepy.” - Mitch Cardwell

credits

released November 9, 2010

Bob McDonald - vocals
Anthony Bedard - guitar
Andy Oglesby - guitar
Chris Portfolio - bass
Scott Jones - drums

Recorded and mixed by Chris Portfolio at the Shill Building, San Francisco
Mastered by Bob Weston at Chicago Mastering Service

All songs BMI

Released by Siltbreeze Records, 2010
SB139

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Hank IV San Francisco, California

Hank IV's hard-charging and visceral dual-guitar rock punk has been likened to “Crime meets Viletones meets Styrenes punk” (Z-Gun Magazine) and by WFMU’s DJ Terre T as “a sick combination of Volcano Suns and Blue Cheer and Chain Gang!”

Hank IV is not related to Hank Williams or any of his descendants. ... more

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