NBA Playoffs Preview: Chicago Bulls

Honeywell - Industry (1993)

This week we're taking our belts off and really letting the emo hang out! I took off work for this.

When the ND braintrust handed me my walking papers for this playoff preview, you bet I groaned. This band and this album name are positively google-proof. I actually had to go way the way out of the way and read a myspace site just to find a dinky non-official site with a spotty biography! I know what you're thinking: what's myspace? Ask your grandfather.

If that weren't enough, this album, unlike most albums, was available only on a run of 250 or so lps and never even made it to CD (Tweet this guy why not. Never stop tweeting that guy.). Even Chris couldn't point me to a dece torrent site to refresh my memory about the damn band. My record player broke years ago, although it still occupies a ceremonial space on my authentic hoosier cabinet (autographed by Tyrus Thomas) where I keep most of the Etsy keepsakes my wife forces on me after we've had a good cry.

Anyway, if you don't already know, this album sounds like an animal being ripped apart. It's the most punch-you-in-the-face screamo album in a world where they are in legitimately short supply. Plus, it's a baffling mystery how this thing got made. Fifteen years ago, all we knew was that a couple-four seventeen-year-old reconstructed skinheads found out you could hook up a distortion pedal to the vocal mike, strum some octave chords and get a drummer that pounded, hit record, yell "fuck," and make history. It's a crazy, noisy, bent album; satisfying beyond its intention. It's almost a perfect record, though seemingly made by accident.

All of which reminds me of a Bulls team that started the season stocked with a bunch of free agency also-rans and headed for a lousy second-round playoff exit. Here's some more comparison:

Derrick Rose's 3 point range: Ok, so Thibs rolled up to Club Berto this summer with some sick defensive strategies (read: 2-3 Zone) in five-inch binders labelled "How To Win," handed them out, played that Ray Lewis "Defense wins championships!" clip to get everyone psyched, and then yelled "Oh yeah, Derrick, learn the three ball (ya rite)!" The rest of the Bulls had a good chuckle. Luol luolled. But guess what, Derrick diid it, and that really put the Bulls (and defenders) over the top (of screens) this year. And if you think that was the best result to ever come from a joke, check this out! Honeywell invented screamo--as a joke!
Their new sound was frenetic and harmonically complex, and the finishing touch started as someone ribbing Josh a little bit. During a rehearsal, someone jokingly suggested "Hey Josh, why not try screaming like a girl?" Josh gave it a shot and the band told Josh to stick with it...Hence, the start of "Screamo", whatever that's supposed to mean.
Yes, whatever that is supposed to mean.
Honeywell didn't invent screamo, Allen Iverson did: Ok so we know the Inventing Screamo thing isn't exactly true (Either Billy Florio or Billy Werner did, duh--ya heard my beats on the radio), but theirs was the definitive statement. But neither is Derrick Rose's genius completely authentic. Derrick is but the evolutionary Allen Iverson, who after all started the whole "dominant little guy" trend in the NBA. But with Derrick, like H-well, everything he does feels like a revelation. Especially for me-- I'm a wholly post-Jordan Bulls fan located now on the east coast. I moved to Philly seven years too late. I never really knew the fun of some miniature acrobat having an MVP season. So each time Derrick backflip dunks on a 7 foot stiff, I feel like I've found something new again. Same with each time I slap on Industry.

Over 15 minutes of Side A of this record is taken up by an unlistenable yet uninterrupted sample of a French lesson: Keith Bogans starts for the Chicago Bulls. Not everything in this world is perfect or how you want. Sometimes Side A of your favorite LP has only seven minutes of actual music.

Honeywell was from Cupertino (or nearby): So obviously one of their fathers was rich and worked for Apple and was the guy who invented the iPod. Because only rich kids with the really successful dads can be goofy and fuck around in arty screamo bands for a decade or more. The Honeywell crew stayed in bands together forever. Their ultra-privileged, go-nowhere lifestyle is demonstrated by the names of their next few projects:
If not for the strict ND style sheets banning subtle visual puns, there would have been a Joakim Noah draft day outfit visual pun here.

Next year, Carlos Boozer will break in half while being shipped to the highest bidder on ebay: For real. Plus this happened to my lp.

Anyway, this is the great flukey one-and-done emo album. The Bulls are the big surprise and will win the championship! Go Bulls! Buy postal insurance!

Warning: these lyrics are NSFW:

For more Emo Spring NBA Playoff Previews, click here and wallow in your weird combination of nostalgia and embarrassment!


Dennis G. Schmuck said...

volume 11 was kinda dope. they did a split with the legendary GASP!

Kirk Krack said...

Volume 11 reminded me a bit of avatar--one of their albums came with 3-d glasses and was still dumb and terrible.

Kelly said...

Even though I finally bought this record on eBay within the last year, I still hope the Magic knock out the Bulls in round two somehow!

But more importantly, what other screamo records are not retrospectively disappointing? Union of Uranus?

Kirk Krack said...


Anonymous said...

pretty bad vinyl rips

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