Review by Lina
Alright, let’s dive into this wild ride of an album: First Show Club Dreamerz Chicago 1989 by Halo of Flies. Released in—you guessed it—1989, this thing is a chaotic mashup of Post Rock, Experimental, Indie Rock, and Punk vibes. It’s raw, unpolished, and feels like someone just hit record on a bunch of friends losing their minds in a basement. And honestly? That’s what makes it kinda special.
The album came out under no real label (yep, DIY all the way) and floats between the US, USA, and Canada—like a musical drifter with no fixed address. Tracks are repeated here and there, which gives you the sense they were just jamming and didn’t care much about tracklisting rules. You get tunes like “Rubber Room,” “Headburn,” “One Barrel Spent,” and some gnarly ones like “Garbage Rock” and “Spit It Out.” It’s messy but fun, like a mixtape your weird cousin made for you back in the day.
Now, if I had to pick two tracks that stuck with me, I’d go with “Father Paranoia” and “Garbage Rock.” Why? Well, “Father Paranoia” hits hard right off the bat—it’s got this eerie vibe, like someone whispering conspiracy theories into your ear while guitars screech in the background. The lyrics feel disjointed, almost stream-of-consciousness style, but that’s part of its charm. Like, you don’t know whether to laugh or nod seriously while listening. It’s unsettling, sure, but also kinda genius because it sticks in your head long after it ends.
Then there’s “Garbage Rock,” which is exactly what it sounds like—a sloppy, noisy explosion of punk attitude mixed with trash-can percussion and distorted riffs. It’s not polished at all, but man, does it slap when you’re in the mood for something aggressive and untamed. There’s a moment where everything drops out except for this low growl of feedback, and you think, "Wait…is the song over?" Nope, it comes roaring back louder than ever. Feels like chaos captured on tape, and honestly, we need more music like that.
Reflecting on this album feels weird because it’s so unhinged, yet totally captivating in its own way. Listening to it felt like stepping into a time capsule from 1989, full of angst, experimentation, and zero fucks given. Honestly, it reminds me of those nights where you stay up too late, blasting random albums, and end up loving something you never thought you would.
Oh, and one last thing—this record might make you wanna clean your ears afterward, but hey, isn’t that kinda the point?
