St. Louis’ Drunks With Guns were never really destined for much. It is unlikely that there will ever be a reunion tour, a reissue campaign, or a documentary filmed around the bands’ undying influence on the landscape of modern music. Their story is the prototypical one of the Midwestern hardcore band: started by four guys with enough suburban malaise to pick up some instruments and write some snotty songs about their misery.
What make the Drunks worthwhile are the details. Their songs don’t just crawl, they ooze forth slowly and recklessly, the rhythm section front and center with the droning bass work of Jim Boyle and Mike DeLeon on alternating releases. Stan Seitrech’s guitar work, obviously indebted to Ginn and Falconi, threatens to careen into jagged leads at any moment, while lead singer Mike Doskocil’s vocals are delivered in vitriolic spurts.
The band always appeared to have tongue firmly placed in cheek, though reports of their behavior may suggest otherwise. The cover of their first self titled 7-inch spoke volumes: a bunch of average looking guys hanging out in a basement with empty cans of the local swill heaped in piles around them. Lyrically, Drunks With Guns stayed true to their namesake. You won’t find songs with overarching metaphors based on the human condition. Just ruminations about getting sauced, crashing cars, and going to dumb parties. Opening lines like “Where’s my drugs/ Where’s my cash/ You ripped me off/ Stole my stash” are idiotic but certainly endearing.
“Wonderful Subdivision” is the group’s magnum opus. The track is the equivalent of a musical hangover with its’ pulsating bass throb and lumbering, giant drum beat. The guitar tries in vain to lighten the proceedings while Doskocil wretches forth lyrical proclamations steeped in suburban angst. The biggest and dumbest song in the bands’ big and dumb repertoire.
While Drunks With Guns may not be recognized as a classic punk act, it’s easy to argue their influence on the emergence of noise rock in the late 80s and early 90s. They definitely are not a thinking man’s band, but they never aspired to be. As a pallet cleanser I am hard pressed to think of anything better. Their recordings, while uneven in quality, do show surprising depth for the time. Beyond all of this, Drunks With Guns were a rarity in the hardcore scene in that they were actually a lot of fun. After the release of their final classic 7-inch Drug Problems in 1989, the group splintered into two very different bands under the same name. Neither quite reached the glory of the original group.
