I've shelled out serious cash lately for some abominably bad albums, and wasn't really feeling so lucky as I shuffled away from the register with this Bluetip EP in hand. But, as per a pair of worn and tired adages: you gotta smack bottom to bounce to the top, and there is nothing sweeter than a pleasant surprise. Will D.C.'s wonders never cease? Knock on wood to the beat of "Repeater."

I'd bet that in 10 years' time, music geeks will be copping bad, English wine-taster accents while they echo one another's claims that, indeed-- quite so old chap-- 2000 was both a fine and fecund year for the Dischord label. Chairman Ian MacKaye's noise juggernaut has snapped back from a near-death torpor, and of the institution's many recent standouts, this Bluetip offering is as deserving as any of top honors.

J. Robbins, himself a sure front-runner for the coveted Studio Ubiquity statuette, is onboard. And as always, he tweaks a good knob and pushes the faders like there's no outdoors. I'll even go so far as to say he's absolved for his work on Very Emergency and Four Cornered Night. Plus, his presence here could not be more apropos. Not since the heyday of Jawbox have we seen so fine an example of technical, guitar-loving, sculpted post-punk. To boil this down to Jawbox mimicry, however, would be a careless injustice. The men of Bluetip have a unique melodic sensibility that's as evocative of songwriters like Oingo Boingo's Danny Elfman as it is of any of their District peers.

This EP, recorded during the same sessions that spawned the more recent Polymer full-length, has been referred to as everything good about Dischord rolled into one, as well as unapologetically rocking. The first assessment isn't far off, but the latter only highlights the crisis that independent rock music is going through. You'd think that "unapologetically rocking" was an obvious tautology. But no. At least, not since the English majors and style nazis hijacked the genre.

Unfortunately, rock with a capital R-- the kind that wants you to uncross your arms, unscowl your face, and maybe move your fucking body just a little-- is a rare bird these days. A great thing about attending a Fugazi or Jawbox performance was the breadth of people that would show up. Setting aside the worst of the white-hat contingent and people that paid admission expressly to heckle Ian, it was wonderful to glance around and see the full spectrum enjoying themselves. From the wimpy fashion guys, to the scariest tatt-covered Lou Ferrigno-physiqued hardcore guys, everyone found a common ground in those bands.

It always augurs well when you pop the CD case and immediately love what you see. Singer Jason Farrell, a long time graphic artist for the DC music community, outdid himself on record's design. Being a mere five songs long, all but the inch-thick silver center ring containing the music is clear plastic. The band logo is rendered in futuristic anime lettering, crossing from the silver into the clear.

The EP consists of four originals-- "Hot Fast Union," "Spit Up Kid," "Persistent," and "Compliment the Negative"-- and a cover of the Damned's "Anti-Pope." Never having met a Damned song I didn't dislike, I'd have to call that the one, very forgivable low point. Well... actually, the corny chemistry metaphor of the title track isn't so hot either. The rest, though, is all gravy. In between mouthfuls, I'm suggesting you hit this shit.

-Camilo Arturo Leslie