Filthy White Trash - Free Ride  - Independent  2006
13 Songs 
Running Time: 38:51

If the goal of Portland, Oregon's Filthy White Trash was to have the most ghetto-ass, cheap, no-frills, unaesthetically pleasing album cover, then they've succeeded like none before. I mean, there's bad/good, then there's just bad. The cover art of Free Ride is worse. You know, though... I don't think FWT really give a shit for how they're album's dressed up, preferring to focus on the music within. Much as I'd like to bag on the artwork forever, I had to hear what sort of bargain basement band would expect a CD wrapped like this to sell. In retrospect, I'm glad.

"The Night" starts off with that bass/drum pattern that was so recognizable to myself and fuckloads of other skaters and skater wannabes who came of musical age in the mid-late 80's before the guitars kick in, Art's hyper-as-an-ape-on-a-coke-jag vox taking me back to days of The Adolescents and DI. You know, back when it wasn't necessary to add adjective prefixes to the word "punk". The four days spent recording Free Ride come through in the frantic energy of "Tweakin'" and "Brow Eyed", the latter boasting a pretty catchy stomp reminiscent of Circle Jerks circa VI before blasting into the Zeke-ish "Can't Dance". Listen for the lyrical nod to The Dwarves most memorable moment in "Can't Dance", it's there. For all the second wave punk cred these guys can lay claim to, they don't shy away from their metal appreciation. The title track rocks a Motorhead/T.S.O.L riff, Jake tossing off a Phil Campbell-inspired lead as if it were second nature. "Bi-Polar" is half-spoken and half-sung, FWT working that early NYHC sound for all it's worth. I wasn't into "Off To War" musically until the end when a pretty decent metal riff snuck up out of nowhere, but "Shit My Pants" was a nice foray into projectile evacuation, and works well as the album's fart joke gone horribly awry. For all the name-checking I'm doing here, Filthy White Trash do have their own sound interspersed among the tribute to '80s punk present here in such abundance. "Biotch" rocks with reckless snotty abandon, paving the way for "KMFAS", Art using a rhythmic delivery more often found in (of all things) the albums of Ice Cube or Geto Boys, but keeping things punk as Hell in the musical department. Somehow, it works. How,  I don't fucking know, but it does. The chorus of "Baby, I'm leaving you for a rich girl!" is a fine send-off, proving that even trailer trash knows one should always "date up". Hey, who said pure unbridled opportunism is dead?!

Granted, this is far from the style of music generally reviewed within these hallowed e-pages, but you know what? Rules and bones were made to be broken, and that's what it's all about. For those young enough to not know any better, for those ready to knock back a few cases of PBR or some other godforsaken swill, or for those too jaded to give a shit for public opinion anymore, Filthy White Trash is a pretty sweet ride.

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