Every vinyl lover has been in this situation before: you are at your local record store digging through the crates. You have already picked through the good stuff like Beatles mono releases and original pressings of Ummagumma by Pink Floyd. You make your way over to the bargain bin—the cheap stuff—we’re talking $1-$3 here, and that’s when you find it. That one record you might not normally buy, but for $2? Why the hell not. It may have those familiar words on the price tag, Surface Noise. It comes with the territory in the bargain bin—wear and tear means a lower price tag, but it is here that we discover new things, whether they be amazing, horrifying, or sometimes even stupefying.
That’s what this column will be dedicated to—those wonderful bargain bin gems that we find while crate digging, the albums we might not give a second thought to, but for the low price, it’s suddenly worth it. With every installment of Surface Noise, I will explore the overlooked, eclectic, wacky, and just plain weird. Soundtracks to ’60s biker movies. A double LP of Polynesian Fire Dances. Maybe even some long-forgotten rock albums, like Head East, or the Eddie and the Cruisers soundtrack. I will find the best of the bargain bin, and I won’t spend more than $5 doing it.
Now that you’ve got where I’m going with this, let’s take a look at this week’s pick. Flipping through the $1 bin at Som Records one day after work, I came across this gem. From 1994, Tchan Nan Nan Nan Nan was D.F.C.‘s debut album. I had never heard of them, I just saw the outrageous cover art and had to at least give it a listen. I took it over to the in-store turntable, dropped the needle, and was floored by what was assaulting my ears.
Distrito Federal Caos, or D.F.C., were teenagers from Distrito Federal, Brazil when this was released in 1994. The lineup as it stands today only includes one member from the recording of this album, vocalist Túlio. In a funny, “small-world” side note, I posted this on Instagram after purchasing, and a friend that grew up in Brazil instantly replied that she was friends with D.F.C. back in the day. She tried to put me in touch with Túlio, but unfortunately I did not receive a response.
Throughout the years, D.F.C. maintained a large following in Brazil, but never reached international fame. I think if they had made their debut a few years earlier, the chances of them hitting bigger would have been greater by piggybacking on the worldwide success of Brazilian thrashers Sepultura. They are still going strong in Brazil to this day, releasing Sequência Animalesca De Bicudas E Giratórias in July 2014.
After the short, sing-song title track, “O Pé” (“The Foot”) hits you like a sucker punch to the jaw. Full of intense, aggressive vocals, chunky guitars with tight riffs, and even little flourishes like cowbell and scratching, this far exceeded any expectations I had when I picked it up out of the dollar bin. These guys had every bit as much intensity as their American counterparts like D.R.I. and Nuclear Assault, and honestly could hold their own with contemporary thrashers like Municipal Waste or Toxic Holocaust.
As the album goes on, we even get a couple of the five-second songs that S.O.D. made famous—quick and furious. The lyrics of the songs echo other Brazilian bands, singing against the corruption that was so prevalent in Brazil at the time. Take the lyrics for “Patamo,” for example:
“they are
in police vans
all black
wait for you
no use running
useless to pray
For these guys
will kill you”
Side two blasts off at full speed with “Corroído Pelo Ódio” (“Corroded By Hate”) and alternates between abbreviated, in-your-face punk and thrashy metal with hardcore overtones, like “Mente Perturbada” (“Disturbed Mind.”) The album draws to a close after “O Cagueta” (“The Snitch”), which at 2:01 is the longest track on the album and one of the more focused and tightest.
They say all trends eventually come back around, and Tchan Nan Nan Nan Nan is an album worth a listen that stands the test of time and holds up to today’s metal standards. In modern metal terms, I equate this band to bands like Norway’s Kvelertak. It really doesn’t matter that you can’t understand what the singer is saying, the musical language transcends borders, and the riffs and beats are what matters.
