Camel Toes by Rabid Lassie: A Thrash-Punk Time Capsule from 1987
Let’s cut straight to the chase—Camel Toes isn’t your polished, radio-friendly rock album. Nope. This is raw, unfiltered rage wrapped in a sweaty leather jacket and screaming at the top of its lungs. Released in ‘87 via Not On Label (seriously, even the label screams DIY), Rabid Lassie delivers a scorching blend of thrash, hardcore, and punk that feels like it was recorded live in someone’s garage… or maybe a collapsing basement. And honestly? That’s what makes it so damn good.
The opening track, Reagans Butt, hits you like a slap across the face. It’s fast, chaotic, and dripping with sarcasm—a middle finger to politics served cold. You can almost picture the band crammed into some dingy club, sweat flying as they rip through this tune. The riffs are sharp enough to cut glass, but it’s the vocals that stick with you. They’re unhinged, almost feral, like the singer just downed five espressos and decided to yell about Reaganomics for three minutes. Sure, the production’s muddy, but that only adds to the charm. It’s not supposed to be perfect; it’s supposed to make you feel something. And oh boy, does it ever.
Then there’s Unite And Fight. If you don’t pump your fist during this one, I’m calling a doctor because you might be dead inside. The song starts off with a riff so catchy it should come with a warning label, then barrels into lyrics that scream unity and rebellion. It’s the kind of anthem that could’ve fueled an entire generation—if more people had heard it back then. There’s something oddly hopeful about its pissed-off energy, like yeah, things suck right now, but hey, we’re all in this together.
Other standouts include Fighting For Peace (a headbanger’s dream) and Creature In Your Head (which sounds like Black Sabbath got into a bar fight with Minor Threat). But let’s talk about the title track, Camel Toes. No, seriously, what were they thinking naming it that? It’s hilarious, ridiculous, and somehow fits perfectly with the whole vibe of the album. Musically, it’s a whirlwind of thrashy goodness, proving these guys weren’t just here to mess around—they meant business.
Listening to this record feels like stepping into a time machine set for the late ‘80s underground scene. It’s messy, loud, and unapologetically real. While other bands were chasing fame, Rabid Lassie seemed content carving out their own little corner of chaos. And honestly, that’s why Camel Toes still holds up today.
Final thought: If aliens landed tomorrow and asked for one album to explain humanity’s capacity for both anger and joy, I’d hand them this. Then I’d tell them to buckle up—it’s gonna be a wild ride.
