From the outside, Ann Arbor conjures the image of a pastoral place. It’s in the name, suggesting a shady nook of trees and hedges and daisies.

For those with ears tuned to the bellicose joys of distorted guitars, drum battalions, and the expression of unfettered frustration, however, Ann Arbor is where punk rock began. A pair of brothers named Asheton eschewed formal lessons for more physical forms of musicality back in 1967, resulting in a band called The Stooges and coloring the history of this otherwise-typical college town forever.

Countless malignant youths have tried to re-create that magic in our tiny burg ever since. Ann Arbor sired other noisy acts who put their own stamp on the form, some who broke beyond our borders and many who didn’t, but loud music remains our birthright. Since 1995, a band called Mazinga has been coming together to conjure heavy sounds out of the ether, with regular hiatuses taken to weather the vagaries of fate, negotiate the cruel realities of an underground music economy, and recharge creative batteries with outside projects.

The four townies in question include drummer Donny Blum, vocalist and lyricist Marc McFinn, guitarist Chris “Box” Taylor, and bassist and in-house graphic artist Big Tony Fero, aka Rubber Wolf. Beyond their duties in Mazinga, all of them have helped move and shake local heavy culture in other area bands. Taylor in particular doubles as mastermind of the annual punk/metal/noise pageant Fuzz Fest (the 10th installment will be this August) and served time in local acts Blue Snaggletooth, The Avatars, and Powertrane.

Deeply entrenched in the traditions of heavy rock styles, Mazinga defines its amalgam of metal, punk, and hard psych as “Maximum Cosmic Punk.” It’s a hypersonic black-light barrage of blazing wah-wah and grisly bass tones, peppered with classic hardcore “woah-oh-oh” choruses and built upon simple yet eloquent chord progressions, while the lyrics sing anti-heroic tales of apocalypse, insurgence, and the exhaustion that results.

After a number of CD and 7-inch vinyl releases over the years, Mazinga has finally recorded and pressed their debut vinyl long player. Chinese Democracy Manifest: Greatest Hits, Vol. 2 will be made officially available to the public at the band’s record release party on February 22 at Ziggy’s in Ypsilanti.

The unwieldy title reflects the collection’s chaotic gestation. “We're normally a very efficient group, but in this case it took two years,” said McFinn. “The delay was due to me trying to negotiate two long-term illnesses and the aftermath of a house fire. It was like the Mazinga version of Chinese Democracy [the Guns N’ Roses album that took 10 years to record].”

Primarily recorded at their rehearsal space, Mazinga managed to track two of the album’s 10 songs at the most hallowed of Michigan’s rock n’ roll landmarks: “‘Rock ‘N’ Roll Jihad’ and ‘All Rise’ were recorded at a new studio located in the Asheton family home,” said Taylor. “It was awesome to record in the basement where the Stooges first rehearsed. I was able to use Ron Asheton’s Marshall amp for recording.”

Mazinga collectively answered a few questions over email.

Q: Mazinga has been a band for three decades. Your press kit mentions a series of “sanity breaks” that you’ve undertaken over the years. Are these breaks from each other, from making music, or from the world in general?
A: It's either none or all of the above. Groups like ours, who refuse to color within the lines of genre are choosing the path of most resistance. When coupled with a decade of unreliable practice spaces, revolving band members, the decline of underground rock audiences, and the countless times we've had to start over from the beginning, "sanity breaks" are an essential part of individual well-being. The short answer is that no sane person chooses Mazinga. It's like Denny's: You just end up there.

Q: Can you define “Maximum Cosmic Punk?” What sets the music of Mazinga apart from other heavy genres?
A: The term "Maximum Cosmic Punk" was inspired by the old Who motto, "Maximum R&B." But in our case, it was punk combined with the influence of the comic icon and architect of the Marvel Universe Jack Kirby. If you want to get into the technical minutiae, our songwriting is primarily based on the "punk" structure as defined by the Ramones 1975 debut. By the time we formed 20 years later, the "punk" genre was a well-established form of American folk music. 

I suppose the most notable thing that sets us apart from other punk bands is the psychedelic element. Ann Arbor has a long history of psychedelic culture. We were exposed to psychedelic music before we were born—and received the benefits of psychedelic experimentation when we got older. Incorporating heavy wah, reverb, and other spacey elements into our sound was a way of representing our psychedelic heritage.

But we'll throw anything in the Mazinga blender from surf to exotica to metal to disco. Through Maximum Cosmic Punk we are attempting to use a basic four-piece rock-band format to manifest the cosmic language of Jack Kirby in sonic form. In the early days, we described it as "making headphone music for punks."

Q: What are the primary lyrical themes for Chinese Democracy Manifest: Greatest Hits Vol. 2? Is there a message for the world?
A: The title is a reference to the fact that the songs are a collection of unrelated singles spanning three decades’ worth of material. “Lobot's Task” was originally recorded in either 1997 or ‘98. “The Dark Path” was written in 2002 for a different band. “Akane,” “Rock ‘N’ Roll Jihad” and “Nandeyo” were written in 2008 at the same time as the songs on the Open the Blast Doors ep. “I Quit” is from 2015 and the rest, “Super Karate Monkey Death Car,” “All Rise,” “Final Detonation,” and “This Is Fine” are recent. The overarching theme of the last three is darkness on the horizon.

The world has enough messages. However, it's my personal wish that a few years down the road, when the remaining humans make their final stand against the robot armies of the owner class, they have our music on their playlists.

Q: Are you all lifelong Ann Arbor residents? Did you do anything to mark last year’s bicentennial?
A: Not lifelong, but close enough. For the bicentennial, we bitched in vain about the ceaseless gentrification and the epidemic of unforgivingly bland buildings being erected left and right. Two hundred years since two industrious crackers renamed this little parcel of Anishinaabe territory after their two wives named Ann. This must be the worst-named town in Michigan. Ann Arbor sounds like a delightful children's book about a little pioneer girl who plants trees and befriends animals. And obviously, she wears a bonnet.

Q: Ann Arbor’s reputation for heavy music derives from The Stooges and the MC5, two bands whose influence on the development of punk and metal cannot be overstated. But Ann Arbor incubated a great number of heavy groups who had their own impact: Laughing Hyenas, Big Chief, Wolf Eyes, and more. What is it about Ann Arbor that provides such a warm nest for harsh sonics?
A: The short answer is The Stooges. Every heavy band that originates here, whether they're from here or just formed here, is trying to measure up to the precedent they established. Still, why did those Ann Arbor-based groups have so much intensity? Surely, it's easier to live here than in Detroit. That is true. But imagine being in a band like The Laughing Hyenas or Big Chief. You go to New York or Chicago and it's nothing but love. But in your hometown it's crickets. Meanwhile, The Blind Pig has a line around the block for a white funk band who wear green Afro wigs and jorts.

Five Highlights from Chinese Democracy Manifest: Greatest Hits, Vol. 2

While the official vinyl version of CDMGHV2 won’t be available until February 22, interested parties can slake their thirsts via the Mazinga Bandcamp page, where digital copies of all the tracks can be traded for whatever passes for money these days. Dig these highlights:

"This Is Fine"
Mazinga opens CDMGHV2 with this appropriately apocalyptic anthem, delivering a warning too timely to ignore and too enormous to absorb. This one’s the hit, holding up to repeat plays without losing its immediacy or edge and spares no one in its analysis.

"Super Karate Monkey Death Car"
A no-frills, balls-out hardcore tantrum as coherent as the title suggests. But if it’s a heart attack waiting to happen that you’re looking for, start here first.

"Rock 'N' Roll Jihad"
Side two opens with another deranged statement of purpose. “Mazinga echoes thru the land/In a language that the faithful know,” and the tongue spoken here is one of flaming wah-wah abuse vomiting forth from the battered amps of Ron Asheton himself.

"Lobot's Task"
A boiling, bubbling feedback-damaged monster too feral for lyrics, this is the perfect instrumental bed for BMX daredevilling, naked skydiving, and washing the dishes drunk.

"I Quit"
Mazinga closes out CDMGHV2 with this giant middle finger of a track, risking our necks by lurching recklessly from one tempo to another in an arrangement anchored by some seriously filthy bass guitar slides.

Fred Beldin is a writer and musician living in Ann Arbor. His work can be found at thesearetheendtimes.com.

Manzinga celebrates the release of Chinese Democracy Manifest: Greatest Hits, Vol. 2 at Ziggy's, 206 West Michigan Avenue, Ypsilanti, on Saturday, February 22. Cobra Youth, Velvet Snakes, and Writhing Squares open the show.