RoosterCow Records

Reagan National Crash Diet Sucktastic



RC007 EP CD [2003]

We'll let Punk Planet say it, 'cause they said it best:

"The much needed CD reissue of the already classic double 7" inch from this wacky, sloppy Chicago-area band with dual male/female vocals... totally wild. Includes three bonus tracks, two of which were recorded at the Fireside Bowl."

Track Listing

Small Song
White Man (Remix)
DNA (Live)
Anomaly (Live)

More RNCD releases

Administration EP CD
RNCD/decibators split 7"
Sucktastic EP double 7"

RNCD website

Reagan National Crash Diet



RNCD promo photo

Reagan National Crash Diet at Beat Kitchen

Carol RNCD live at Beat Kitchen Chicago

Jen RNCD live at Beat Kitchen Chicago

Chris RNCD live at Beat Kitchen Chicago

Steve RNCD live at Beat Kitchen Chicago


Self-awareness isn't a prerequisite for great rock 'n' roll: The Beatles thought they were an R & B band. Led Zeppelin thought they were an unusually loud blues band. No one's sure what Black Sabbath thought they were, but they were probably wrong too. Listening to Sucktastic! (the new CD version of an earlier five-song release, plus extra tracks) by locals Reagan National Crash Diet—who of course aren't on a level with the groups above—I sometimes get the impression they think they're a pop-punk band. But at key moments they achieve a hairy, distorted chaos that's far more exciting than the prefab stuff they seemingly aspire to.—Monica Kendrick 

The much needed CD reissue of the already classic double 7" inch from this wacky, sloppy Chicago-area band with dual male/female vocals. It sounds like what a Plan-It X band doing garage rock would sound like: totally wild. Includes three bonus tracks, two of which were recorded at the Fireside Bowl.—Art Ettinger

It seems everybody these days needs a hustle of some sort or another. The garage bands have their 15 mintues' fame. New York acts are busy riding The Strokes' coattails. Even Blink 182's turned in its juvenility for a new slant, the matured-band gimmick. What the hell happened to the music?

Reagan National Crash Diet are so far removed from the sort of band who lives and dies by manipulating its audience's cruddy attention span that the poorly recorded angle on Suktastic! doesn't really count as an attention-getting ploy. In fact, the quickly recorded studio tracks and live cuts on this record play into the scattered urgency of RNCD: With dueling male/female vocals at its helm and guitars that crash wildly against one another, the band has the mentality, if not the gritty riffs and explosive rhythms of the legendary Los Angeles punk band. In reality, the allusions to X only tell half the tale of the Chicago band's sound.

While the songs, mostly culled from the band's 7-inch EP of the same name, screech through punk territory, they stick as close to the sounds of Richard Hell and the Voidoids or a slightly peeved Television as anything borne in the City of Angels. "Hitlicker" takes a buzzing jangle through riffs that are more primal and directly linked to rock'n'roll than three-chord punk and throws them under a pair of vocal tracks that let singer/guitarist Jen Charles and Chris Auman deliver harmonies and backups worthy of John and Exene comparisons. "Pretender" doesn't carom into punk's no-future wasteland as much as it precariously peers into the no mans' land, while live versions of "Anomaly" and "DNA" plunge headlong into punk's well crafted chaos. RCND plays punk for the record collectors and anyone who's grown out of their Epitaph-inspired angst. While it's not as ostentatious as most of its flash-and-burn Californian counterparts, Reagan National Crash Diet makes up in intelligence what it lacks in immediacy.—R. Paul Matthews


here's nothing about Reagan National Crash Diet that's neat and clean. With a name that belies the band's cross-pollination of X-styled punk and pigfuck loose ends, the group's an untidy package from the get-go. The band recently released Sucktastic, its second EP for the Chicago-based RoosterCow label. The record careens with a studied recklessness, never staying in one place for too long without seeming aimless. "Hitlicker" and "Small Song" possess an ebullience and poppiness undermined by the cheap instruments on which they're played, while "16" and "White Man" crawl through rock's bowels while not ensconcing themselves in artful dodgery. This is the work of smart heads who happen to be sloppy drunks-in other words, a perfect match for the dingy cellar room of Bernie's. The Rancid Yak Tea Party will start things off with their own brand of artless dementia.—Stephen Slaybaugh

RNCD van


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