Once upon a time there was a tiny Chicago record label called Choke, Inc. It was an uncommonly well-curated label, focused on a diverse array of truly superb bands from the Midwest—despite the Chicago address, its entire roster hailed from Michigan and Ohio. Between 1993 and 1995, they released sophisticated bands like the baroque math-metalists Craw and the sublime Ann Arbor art rockers Morsel, while at the same time sheltering scuzzy dirt merchants like The Hairy Patt Band and the depraved twin-bass siege of Cincinnati’s Milkmine.

All of the foregoing was highly worthy stuff, but then there was Jaks. Ho. Lee. Shit.

Jaks’ lone album, 1995’s excellent Hollywood Blood Capsules, had exactly the cultural impact of all of Choke’s releases—none. It’s been out of print since Choke choked, though the attempt by 31G records to resuscitate the band’s reputation, 2005’s Here Lies the Body of Jaks, remains available, and it has more music on it anyway. People who were fortunate enough to experience the band live were treated to the feral vocal stylings and unrestrainedly manic stage presence of Katrina Ford. Guitarist Sean Antanaitis’s trebly, turbulent, and often downright menacing guitar screamed behind it all, though he mostly remained stoically motionless—who could compete with a commotion like Ford, anyway? They had mastered the angular post-punk trip years before that became the trendiest possible move to cop—for real, had Jaks been a Brooklyn band in 2004 instead of a Michigan band in 1994, they’d have likely been a very fucking big deal.
 
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