Chain Rocketship by Fez Petting Zoo: A Wild Ride Through '90s Alt-Rock Chaos
Alright, let’s talk about Chain Rocketship, the kinda forgotten but totally rad debut album from Fez Petting Zoo. Released back in ‘96 (yeah, that's right, Clinton was still president), this US-based band cranked out a scrappy mix of alternative rock and punk under the radar label Blue Baby. If you’re into raw guitar riffs, punchy drums, and vocals that sound like they were recorded in someone’s garage—this one’s for you.
The lineup? Simple enough: James handles bass and screams his lungs out on vocals, John shreds the guitar like it owes him money, Bort pounds the drums with reckless abandon, and Eric James somehow manages to make it all sound cohesive behind the recording desk. It’s not perfect, but honestly? That’s what makes it stick.
Now, onto the tracks. The title track, “Chain Rocketship,” kicks things off with this gnarly riff that grabs your attention immediately. You know those songs where you can practically feel the sweat dripping off the band while they play? This is one of them. It’s got this driving energy that doesn’t quit, plus some shout-along lyrics that are just vague enough to let you project whatever teenage angst or adult frustration you’ve got going on. Every time I hear it, I picture a dingy club full of people moshing like there’s no tomorrow. It’s messy, loud, and completely unforgettable.
Then there’s “Left Name,” which is... well, weird as hell. Like, what does the title even mean? But hey, that’s part of its charm. The song starts slow, almost brooding, before exploding into this chaotic mess of distortion and yelling. There’s something oddly satisfying about how it refuses to follow any rules—it feels less like a polished track and more like an emotional outburst caught on tape. And yeah, maybe the production is a little rough around the edges, but that only adds to the authenticity. It’s the kind of song that sticks with you because it’s so unapologetically itself.
Honestly, listening to Chain Rocketship feels like finding an old mixtape at a thrift store—you don’t expect much, but then you hit play and realize it’s secretly awesome. Sure, Fez Petting Zoo never blew up the way some of their contemporaries did, but that’s okay. Sometimes being the underdog gives you the freedom to create without worrying about pleasing everyone.
Here’s the kicker though: after finishing the album, I couldn’t help but wonder if James ever regretted naming the band after animals hanging out in a zoo. Like, seriously, who thought of that? Punk rock legends or not, that name is gonna raise eyebrows every single time. Still, props to them for sticking with it—and delivering an album that feels as wild and untamed as their ridiculous moniker. Check it out if you want music that hits hard and doesn’t care what anyone thinks.
