tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-78249527808766316012024-02-19T21:05:25.438-08:00MUTE TREMORSI'VE GOT THIS CRAZY FEELING
SINCE I KNOW I REMEMBER WHEN
BUT NOW I'M SURE
I'M OLD AND I'M PURE
COMIN AROUND THIS HAPPENED AGAIN
WAKE UP YOU MIRACLE DUMB BELL
IT'S TIME TO FALL OUT THE WINDOW WITH MEErick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-37051311691925800862016-02-10T23:52:00.000-08:002016-02-11T00:26:42.202-08:00SINGLES & EPs of ALL SIZES<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzc1ydre2WKSxPvz1ljB7NVQz5f04UasUZtNyGTmWWyvYmgEUfjzWibe4_LgqdLS7iIvtj4qChjUc-qFi88bL1JNzBwAI9YITi0jJ1eAm3MdXRN3CsoeQch2kOrjnpHNBFCCbwlR48SIt/s1600/girl%253Arecords.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzc1ydre2WKSxPvz1ljB7NVQz5f04UasUZtNyGTmWWyvYmgEUfjzWibe4_LgqdLS7iIvtj4qChjUc-qFi88bL1JNzBwAI9YITi0jJ1eAm3MdXRN3CsoeQch2kOrjnpHNBFCCbwlR48SIt/s320/girl%253Arecords.jpg" width="302" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">BLAST </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Damned Flame”/”Hope” 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Absolutely crucial reissue of Belgium’s aptly-named Blast by Montreal label Death Vault. This little-known mofo originally came out in 1973 in an edition of somewhere between 300-500 copies. Knowledge of the time frame doesn’t make these two raging hellfire songs any less “sick,” but it certainly challenges your notion of “fast” and “punk” and, well, Belgians in general. “Damned Flame” barrels forth at a frantic pace, anticipating Motorhead, d-beat and speed metal. The only thing I can think that it sounds like is actually Gunslingers, a latter-day aggro-psych band from France. “Hope” is a smidge more straightforward hesher thrash, breaking for a couple piercing solos and still featuring that maniacal drum bash. I suppose a parallel could be drawn with the long-haired punks of Soggy, and of course there’s </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Raw Power</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. Oh wait, snap, </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Raw Power </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">was recorded “in</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">London's CBS Studios from September 10-October 6, 1972.” This Blast single was recorded “in Brussels on the 29th of August 1972.” Blast for the win by two weeks!</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Death Vault; </span><a href="http://deathvaultrecords.bigcartel.com/product/blast-damned-flame-b-w-hope-1972" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://deathvaultrecords.bigcartel.com/product/blast-damned-flame-b-w-hope-1972</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">CCTV 4-Trak 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Every punk geek with an internet connect was tripping over themselves to get ahold of this speedy new wave corker straight outta NWI (NorthWest Indiana - acronym ed.). Helmed by Coneheads honcho Mark W, CCTV tap into that wonderful vein of weird but accessible wavo punk like BOB and Suburban Lawns. “Paranoia” is the hit -- a blitzkrieg of oscillating bass guitar and desensitized, almost unnerving femme vox. There’s some stabbing synth lines and monotone background vocals and it ends at the perfect time, careful not to overstay its welcome. As for the other cuts, “Quiet” sounds like a homage to the aforementioned Suburban Lawns, while “Anxiety” is a long-lost early college radio hit that got more than one Revenge Of The Nerds party jumping. “Mind Control” shows singer Jenn’s range as she channels that bored new wave vixen steez that always gets me. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Lumpy Rex; </span><a href="http://spottedrace.bigcartel.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://spottedrace.bigcartel.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">CRAZY SPIRIT 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Been a minute since a Crazy Spirit release, and it’d been a minute since I’d seen ‘em play as well. Saw ‘em recently and they opened with a cover of Butthole Surfers’ “Human Cannonball,” so that might give you a good idea of where their heads are at these days. As usual with Toxic State, the packaging here is stellar; I’ve probably said this before, but the TS aesthetic is sorta like Gravity Recs gone d-beat. Not on purpose of course, but to an old fart like me, the hand-folded/screened pocket sleeves/jackets and inserts remind me a lot of that stuff, but without all the touchy-feely crap. For instance, the illustrated lyric sheet is borderline beautiful and doubles as a poster (for your dorm room or squat). Also, there’s a strip at the top of the foldover flap that peels off to reveal a sticky streak that you can seal the sleeve with. I’m not the biggest packaging nerd in the world, but that is fucking cool. As to the music (oh yeah!), Crazy Spirit slithers through half a dozen grimecore trax and if you dug ‘em before, you ain’t gonna complain.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Toxic State; </span><a href="http://katorgaworks.bigcartel.com/category/toxic-state" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://katorgaworks.bigcartel.com/category/toxic-state</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">THE EX & FENDIKA 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Ex are basically The Rolling Stones of punk…..that is if the Stones never had a dip in quality, despite the line-ups changes and years on the road. I first saw The Ex play nearly 20 years ago. I have now seen them a dozen times. I’ve seen them blow Fugazi, Sonic Youth and Shellac off the stage. They should be headlining arenas the world over. They are headlining arenas across this earth for those with hearts and brains and a need for cleansing noise. Over the last few months, I had the incredible good fortune of seeing The Ex four separate times at four separate venues. Needless to say, they are as vital as ever, honing their unique push-pull attack until it is as fine as a grain of sand. I am awe of this band, yet they are some of the friendliest, most approachable and genuine music folks you could ever hope to meet. The joy they discover within their own music is palpable. They are masters of their trade, yet they manage to surprise the audience and themselves seemingly nightly. If you’ve ever had an inkling about The Ex, do not hesitate next time they are in your vicinity. Toddlers to grandmas, punks to squares -- Everyone loves The Ex. I’ve seen it. It’s the truth. The Ex started releasing 7”s again a few years back and here is the most recent, a collaboration with Ethiopian group Fendika. The Ex have toured Ethiopia twice and have made many friends there. “Lale Guma” is a cover of a song by Ayelew Mesfin and The Fetan Band. (as ever, The Ex are mindful of having their creativity be transparent aka always pay attention to their liners, you’ll learn a few things) The band was playing this song on the shows I caught, and while it features “a traditional war cry,” it is an uplifting and supremely danceable number. “Addis Hum” also featured in their sets, and it is “based on a traditional Ethiopian Gurage song.” If this is Ethiopia’s version of garage music (wahwah), then we need a sub-Saharan </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Nuggets</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> post-haste. The Ex turn “Addis Hum” into a prime mover as drummer Katrin and the ladies from Fendika voice their frustrations; the band retains their inherent heaviness while making the skittering rhythms the focal point. Simply the best.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Ex; </span><a href="http://www.theex.nl/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.theex.nl</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">EXHAUSTION </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Phased Out </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">12”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Phased Out” is all guitar n’ drum </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">sturm und drang </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">that trails off into vapour, while “Colleague” catches a ride on said trail and takes off on a marathon at a sprinter’s pace. Not much is “happening” here, but it’s got a visceral pull, a vortex-ical grinding. A downed power line in a hurricane, your car perched precariously above, rubber tires saving from electrocution. Exhaustion don’t “sound like” anything particular, which is worth its weight in [presumed valuable material] these days. Flip this 12” over for a retrograde trip back to the late 1990s, when every single had 5 remixes and thus became EPs of dubious value. Prime Minister of Australia Mikey Young’s “Phased” remix dulls the guitar roar and foregrounds the mantra vocals along with a disco-fried take on the beat aspects. It’s not bad, just too long and ultimately pointless. Rites Wild head for the shadows with their darker treatment of “Colleague,” but it still feels a bit beside the point (probably land OK after Clan of Xymox on goth night). But, much like Lindsay Lohan’s lying PR mouthpiece, I could use some more Exhaustion.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[1-2-XU; </span><a href="http://www.12xu.bigcartel.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.12xu.bigcartel.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">MR. CLIT & THE PINK CIGARETTES 10”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This 10-song 45 rpm 10” has just about everything working against it: bad-pun band name; cover art that looks like it would not even clear the low aesthetic bar of say, Dead Beat Records; pink vinyl (appropriate, yes - ugly, yes); and yeah a </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">ten-inch</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">? I don’t hate 10”s with the fury most collectors do, but still, I ain’t giving the toast at its fuckin’ wedding, if ya know what I mean. So, what’s the real surprise here? That’s this record doesn’t suck! Three ladies and a dude cram some pretty hot-shit garage punk onto this pink atrocity. Nothing really stands out, but I like the lady-led songs best. “Life’s A Drag Queen” kinda sounds like East Bay pop-punk after being dragged through the gutter and slathered with…..xylophone? I think they’re from Indiana, so if you see this at the store, maybe consider picking it up, they probably need all the positive reinforcement they can get.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Heel Turn; heelturnrecords.com]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">MOPE CITY 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Three songer from sad Aussies, guessing Brisbane cuz of the Tenth Court stamp. Pretty “bog”-standard indie strum-and-drag. If there was a little more </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">ooomph</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> behind these songs, particularly the A-side “Small Eye,” they’d veer into Versus territory, which ain’t a bad place to find yourself, even midway thru the second decade of the twenty-first century. The third song attempts to add a little drama to the proceedings, but its title cuts to the chase and lets you know what you’re in for; “Blunt Razor.” Yeah, that’s no use to anybody.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Tenth Court; http://tenthcourt.com/]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">POP. 1280 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Pop. 1280 keeps plugging away and we ain’t mad at ‘em. “Penetrate” makes a decent case for Marilyn Manson to produce their next album. Hey, why not? Welcome to the dope show, fucko. “Krankenschwester” translates as “nurse” and is more reminiscent of past bruisings. The song features the line “Take the Greyhound to the graveyard” and somehow sells it via back alley cyberpunking. All aboard.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Sacred Bones; </span><a href="http://www.sacredbonesrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.sacredbonesrecords.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">PSYKIK VOLTS “Totally Useless”/”Horror Stories #5” 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I saw virtually no mention of this well-done reissue this past year, which is a shame cuz it is a fine single of slightly weird, but fully rockin’ UK punk. Housed in a sturdy cardboard jacket and sounding crisp and loud off the player, Psykik Volts deliver a two-song killer. On “Totally Useless,” PV cops the main theme from composer Edvard Greig’s “In The Hall Of The Mountain King” (Hawkwind was evidently a fan too) and couples it with snide vocals to communicate just what fuck-ups they are. But we know the truth, as this song is too well-played and constructed for us to completely believe them. At the least, you’ll never hear the </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Inspector Gadget </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">theme song the same way again. “Horror Stories no. 5” steals more horror movie guitar riffs (imagine a post-’77 Bernard Herrmann) and proceeds to rock it out every which way but loose. The short-lived Psykik Volts were heavier than the average UK punk combo at the time (1979-greatest musical year on record) and it sets them apart. Great single.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Messthetics/Munster; www.hyped2death.com]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">RAW PONY 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ain’t no D in this band, so these ladies cut loose with the fury of four Lorena Bobbitts after a night of hard drinking. I heard they recently closed Bernie’s, the High Street watering hole/basement venue that hosted a few decades worth of Columbus, Ohio’s drunkest and loudest. Raw Pony exemplify that whiskey-soaked personal turbulence (aka trouble) in their churning gut-punched songs. “Shattered” throws in a harmony just to remind you that these bad bitches don’t totally hate you.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Heel Turn; heelturnrecords.com]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">SEX TIDE </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Vernacular Splatter </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">12”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Columbus, Ohio’s Sex Tide are back with another 12” long poke in the eye. They switched out a guitarist (Elijah from Bloody Show/Obnox etc is now in), but kept their dual six-string & standing/singing drummer method of attack intact. The majority of these swingin’ heartache blues rants remind me of Flat Duo Jets, from the other side of the gender gap. “Why Don’t You Want Me?” slows things down sticky like Link Wray cough syrup. I can safely say that men and women deal with pain in ways that aren’t as dissimilar as they’d have you believe. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Superdreamer; http://www.superdreamerrecordsmain.com/]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">SLUM OF LEGS 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fantastic sophomore single by this UK six piece. With that amount of people crowding the sonic spectrum you’d be forgiven for thinking Slum Of Legs to be maximalists trying to cram as much sound as possible into the grooves. But they retain their inherent balance by carefully positioning each layer just so. “Doll Like” makes me think “What if Electrelane was happy?” The answer may </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: line-through; vertical-align: baseline;">surprise</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> delight you. “Half Day Closing” is a lovely ache of a song, similar to the old world mod of Marine Girls or the more recent Long Blondes. But unlike those bands, Slum Of Legs have a certain restrained rage bubbling under these excellent and compelling songs. When’s the album?</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Tuff Enuff; https://riotsnotdiets.bandcamp.com/]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">SLEAFORD MODS “A Little Ditty”/’I’m Shit At It” 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I am an unabashed Sleaford Mods fan(boy?). Over the last few years, I’ve listened to their singles collection </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Chubbed Up</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> as much as anything else in my collection. Sleaford Mods make incisive music; hilarious, and positively withering in its hilarity. I might not live in the UK, but Jason Williamson’s gut-busting and genuinely poetic screeds hit home for me 100 fuckin percent. Write all the think-pieces you want, people, the Mods are still gonna cut you up. “A Little Ditty” appeared on last year’s </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Divide & Exit</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> and it’s an excellent example of Williamson’s scato-/socio-logical spew paired with Andrew Fearn’s deceptively brilliant music. Fearn has a knack for crafting irresistible grooves out of nagging bass lines and simple, head-down beat runs. Every time I DJ this sucker, people start moving and head-nodding and catching bits of lyrics and laughing. On the flip, they give the mic to their mate John Paul for a minute and his pure vitriol almost outdoes Williamson. In the background, Jason makes farting noises and engages in some call-and-response. Then the song proper begins and Fearn’s bass line is a big, fat paranoid line of K begging to crawl up your right nostril. Then John Paul comes back for a fuck-off send off. Hope you are able to deal with the word “cunt,” or are you shit at it? </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Emotional Response; </span><a href="http://jenandstew.com/category/Emotional-Response-Records/c11" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://jenandstew.com/category/Emotional-Response-Records/c11</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">SPRAY PAINT/EXEK split 7”</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Released in conjunction w/ Spray Paint’s 2015 Oz tour, the A-side delivers two more jittery winners from the trio with “Yr Shedding” being especially paranoid. EXEK do a noisy, winding, dubby post-punker called “Theme From Judge Judy” (what a repugnant woman eh?). It’s almost like Mud Hutters or Glaxo Babies, reveling in its everydayness while also trying to transcend it via extrasensory out-of-body sonics. More, please.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Homeless; </span><a href="https://homelessvinyl.com.au/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://homelessvinyl.com.au/</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">STATIONS 7” </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Promising 4-song debut by this newer Aussie group made up of members of bands like Gentlemen, UV Race, EXEK and others. The mode is post-punk and the music is forceful and tense (well lookie here, there’s a minute-long rant called “Tension” on the flip). Stations share the sensibilities of fellow countryfolk like TAX and Nun. “Hunting” goes for the throat with big beat verses and singer Joanna Nilson’s mocking voice on the chorus. Need more info? According to Nilson: “We like sticky yellow biker speed, Aperol spritzers, blow up pools, black mesh, Scott Walker, Bikini Kill, ASOS, obscure Italian disco and each other.” </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Cold Front; </span><a href="https://stationsofthecross.bandcamp.com/album/stations" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://stationsofthecross.bandcamp.com/album/stations</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">VEXX </span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Give And Take</span><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 7” EP</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Despite the numerous pops on my pressing, Vexx’s second proper release is probably my favorite punk record of 2015. Most bands would kill to write a song as good as each one of these four distinct cuts. “Black/White” is as earnest as it gets, but it’s welded to a solid mid-tempo punk frame that takes time out for a couple tasty r n’ r licks. The Tyrades-like attack of “Sleeping In The Attic” gets my blood pumping hard, singer Mary Jane Dunphy’s voice hitting that perfect pitch, conveying anger and desperation in equal measure. The way she belts out “...and I gotta find a new place to live!” near the end sends chills up my spine. Oh yeah, this is why I listen to punk rock. I spent a few freezing months in the late ‘90s sleeping in an attic in Akron, Ohio. This is my retroactive theme song. The B-side repeats the formula -- “Walking In The Rain” is a tough blues, recalling Legal Weapon’s hard-won wisdom. If you don’t find yourself jumping around your bedroom to “Flattened Scenes,” well, shit, don’t you like to dance? Don’t worry, nobody’s watching, and Vexx are on the stereo; this is the appropriate response. Really nice packaging on this baby, but I hope your pressing doesn’t click like mine! Take a chance regardless -- Vexx is a rare, beautiful bird this late in the game.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: black;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Katorga Works; </span><a href="https://katorgaworks.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://katorgaworks.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: "georgia"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span><br /></span></span></span></div>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-32928938806647478062015-11-23T10:33:00.000-08:002015-11-23T10:49:42.632-08:00UNKISSED<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmMfEnYKx1GjtO5MhSrKsP8MnZd6SzdSCKAR_hbua4IQmMi9KW8TZlhFwS746Vx5jujoz2hAhmLFPtTzZvud3-uxrNFFPSlq8UXmpedstcRiDVNwflvKeAaV-oSobCloCxIz3MkT5QcaE/s1600/1616745_730804133619105_90085578_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQmMfEnYKx1GjtO5MhSrKsP8MnZd6SzdSCKAR_hbua4IQmMi9KW8TZlhFwS746Vx5jujoz2hAhmLFPtTzZvud3-uxrNFFPSlq8UXmpedstcRiDVNwflvKeAaV-oSobCloCxIz3MkT5QcaE/s320/1616745_730804133619105_90085578_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I like that. not the state of being, but the ache the word implies.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Yeah, it's been a helluva couple weeks. I don't really have a nice story for you. I threw up blood for 3 days straight. Time distended and I entered a fugue state, a shamanistic moment of hyperawareness and complete and utter GIVING IN to whatever oblivion awaits me.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Of course, the doctor's have other terms they use to describe this state. My favorite is one I made up myself "fatally dehydrated." Eventually I went to the hospital, barely standing, and they hooked me up to a bevy of essential fluids and thus, I remained on this mortal coil.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fun, you say? Oh, you don't know the half of it...</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">All of my problems, self-inflicted and fate-inflicted coming home to roost their fat greedy bodies. The demons need to feed. So they sucked a bunch of life out of me, but I'm still here. Building my strength back up, reflecting heavily on my life, where it's led me, what the hell do I wanna do with the rest of it, and how much time do I want to do it with. Well, I can be a greedy bastard myself, so I'm trying to keep it going a while longer, and maybe even be able to use where I've been and who I've been when I'm there.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Your English is wonderful. You write like a poet.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And thus the circle begins.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Change is good. Need a fresh start on certain things. Trying to recharge my creative battery. I tested it and it was nearly completely drained. No more!</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Of course... you are allowed to use "mater"! Well, my stepfather killed himself because of his schizophrenic psychosis... all the people around me have a broken psyche/soul…----</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">----... suicide by kiss.... (my heart stops beating by the very thought of it!)</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">If my lil' castle would be much bigger, i'd ask you if you wanna come over to stay here for a little while. I realized you need a new home... maybe a place where you and your racing soul can find a docking point... ... etc.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">BLUSH BLUSH BLUSH</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... i'd love to cling onto your shoulder!!!</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">----Did you know that... ... you are like a plaster? You're sticking on my heart like a plaster that sticks together with an open sore. Oh, it really hurts if i try to remove that one... ... if i try to pull you off of my heart. Can you feel the pain? Can you see how it bleeds? ... ... so, every little break, every moment where i cannot read you... ... it hurts... as much as a torn off plaster!</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I choose not to forget. It's right above me, perched there. Head darts - quizzically. Exaggeration is often a veil disguising the truth. Underneath - pulsing, racing, searching for rest.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I feel bad I can not speak to you in your native tongue as eloquently as you speak to me in mine.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You've got a leg up on me, young lady. But I don't mind.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Can a sigh cross an ocean? Can a bird outfly time?</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Imagination is the only escape from drudgery.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A hand can eclipse the sun. Wave, and wave.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">How tall are you? (and how much does your brain weigh?)</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And do you dance around your room a lot? I bet that's a heart-stopping sight.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... .............. What a wonderful brainfuck (i love you for this...)! ... still moaning.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... do you have a bicycle? You look so fit... ... so, get your ass on the saddle and pedal as fast as you can! OR you can lasso a trailer hitch...</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'll wait here for you.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT ... DON'T dare to sell your record collection!!!</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">"The Pubococcygeus muscle controls urine flow and contracts during orgasm."</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Someday your prince will come and all those tears will create a lovely lake, right behind your house. And there will be wine and cheese for everyone.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You're the K.I.L.L.E.R.!!! Fuck... this picture............ i'm gonna die now!</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">nononono "she makes things fly 'n she maked things roll/she got me way over here 'n I'm hungry 'n cold"</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">.......... but first you've to drink 5 liters of water - you're too dry to hold me... i bet your arms will be starting to melt when i start crying. i guess they're powdery now, without all that sweat.......</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ask yourself: Would you ever make that leap?</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I did, I have, I will again. Falling on my face is something I do fairly gracefully. It has paid off before, but this time - broken nose/wounded pride. I hope you work your thing out. I suppose you will remain a ghost in my memory, never quite solid, never quite real. A whisper from the other side of the world.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Your life isn't worthless. But I know how you feel. I wish I could press that into your body. I wish I could have a chance to impress you. I can't imagine being more in love with someone I'll never meet.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My lord, woman, do you make me ache for something I've never even known. Oh how I wish I could help you escape your chains. I've got other plans for your arms and legs.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Still vaguely in love with you, you gorgeous ghost you.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">..</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. it's horrible that people steadily only apprehend/realize the negative statements in their life and in the same time they totally missed/ ignored the words and signs of love.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I really miss us.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">December 21st. Winter solstice. Longest night of the year. Day with most darkness. I'm getting old and lonely. Bring on the twilight.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">to zip a small hint of a threat</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'm sure you have a lovely heart that tastes really good and looks great in a dress.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'm afraid that there's no need to force me... so... ... i'll take you up on that... some time - if you wouldn't have forced an other girl till then. I really lived that Freudian slip.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... buuuuut i need a human juicer so that i can produce this special-flavored ice cream.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... oh man, another innocent soul was taken by such a shitty psychical diseases....... it shattered me everytime, when i hear that someone had to go by psychical diseases. I guess, you know... my stepfather had the same... his demons have eaten him up.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Sorry... i'm so sorry... i still wish... i could....... would... fuck....... i'm crying. Life is such a big fat pile of shit.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mine eyes have drank up all they can of your form.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Nothing left to do but grasp it betwixt mine own two hands.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Firmly. But with mercy. and Tenderness.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Now is when I make a sound someplace between a sigh and a growl.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Experiencing intense dehydration, skyrocketing blood sugar, fever dreams, accepting spiritual punishment, enduring bizarre and disgusting pain.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Alone.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I know the meaning of pipe dreams. in German we call it: Luftschlösser such as castles in the air.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I thought a bubblegum freak is someone who loves it when a girl sucks his dick with a chewing gum in her mouth.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The flesh is paramount. What it comes encased in is merely window-dressing. Frilly underthings should beware my teeth.</span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">hmmm, i am a fat cow with a bunch of pimples, the painters are in my basement (monthlies), i am going to lose my job and stuff like that.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Life is like a whore - she fucks around with the human souls like a whore does it with her johns. BUT, the art is: not to pay for every single fuck (with your life)... to escape your soul from all the dirt in life.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fuck the tour, need to schedule a tour of your bed.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Be my knight. Free me from my fetters. And take me with you to the place where you want to settl down.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The same sad goddamn story. Money is greased to me now; won't even stay in my grip.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">.. your scent dazed my senses. What a fucking hell.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I went to the hospital this night, because of huge pain in my head and in my stomach. I've puked a few times. So, they told me that i was dehydrated, so i had to get an infusion. Ugh. I could still puke and my head feels like as if i had drunk two bottles of whiskey. I can't eat, or sleep.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Oh man I’m so sorry you're sick. I bet you're gorgeous even when face down in a toilet bowl. I'd hold your hair anytime, baby.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(th'r'oat) ... i never wish death so much like i want him now.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I want to die in your stomach.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">That was supposed to be blood dripping from my mouth.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The reason I became a werewolf vampire ghost was so I wouldn't have any feelings. They lied to me!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Painfully human.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Frail sickly pale diseased rotting from the inside human wreck.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">with a wicked sense of humor; a saving grace.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There are times in our lifes where we aren't able to add more than a little sigh after something that leaves you speechless.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... if only i could bring your heart back to the track of love.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Have you ever been stoned? Have you ever been fat? Do you ever wear skirt or dresses? Do you have a best friend? Why is my S key dying?</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Pretty embarrassing to read this novel... i mean, i found tons of grammatical errors. Would you do me a favor? Please, amend my sentences. That will help to improve my English. Oh, btw: I know that I must write the 'I' with a capital letter.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I like your neck.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">#1: The window to my home #2: Our TV tower #3: A small but beautiful theater on my street</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Do you remember where i've lost my key?</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Put yr head on my chest-pillow.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A notion separated by an ocean.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">*neck-pull*</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">What's a headcracker? Someone who loves to crack heads?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A message isn't as good as a massage.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Oh, thanx, Mr. Taciturn.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Did you know that i love wild birds!?</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My young dunnock.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My blue tit.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My great tit.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And the sweetest robin on earth!</span></span></span></div>
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<table style="border-collapse: collapse; border: none;"><colgroup><col width="54"></col><col width="28"></col></colgroup><tbody>
<tr style="height: 0px;"><td style="border-bottom: solid #000000 0px; border-left: solid #000000 0px; border-right: solid #000000 0px; border-top: solid #000000 0px; padding: 7px 7px 7px 7px; vertical-align: top;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span></td><td style="border-bottom: solid #000000 0px; border-left: solid #000000 0px; border-right: solid #000000 0px; border-top: solid #000000 0px; padding: 7px 7px 7px 7px; vertical-align: top;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You wanted to see my life and some things that surround me - there it is - there they are.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Such like: Greenfinch, great spotted woodpecker, tree creeper, magpie and etc.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... i love almost every animal on earth... but i am not so into spiders... arachnophobia! ... and i don't like gnats.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tree creeper!</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Birdsongs are as wonderful as pictures of birds!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... oh, take you time skinny bumble-bee. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... ha. My quality as a thief isn't that good.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... oh stop... i didn't know if you are in the mood for such melodies........ i mean, you know that i am very open when it comes to stuff that is related to the heart and etc.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">What a short night. Phew. I am at work since 5 hours - my head smokes as heavy as a bong.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">What exactly may i find behind that line if i'd pull apart every syllable of it? Put it in a nutshell.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Btw: I've gotten a few extra pounds on my hips and belly during the last weeks. I feel like a super-fat cow. Moo!</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">And you, Mr. Skinny?</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Your voice is like honey. I had a dream about you last night. It was pretty weird but I distinctly remember having my hands on your hips.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You sounded like you were whispering to me under a blanket, just our bodies and breath to keep us warm.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... i usually have a ready tongue....... but she loses the touch with my vocabulary when it comes to such excitatory statements. </span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Old & grey, no. Time is of the essence. A good plan? Probably not. But I've pulled off a few things in my life. You must conceptualize, reduce, boil. Life is alchemy. Love is the gold.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ominous, a coming storm. Cleansing waves.</span></span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... i bet, another piece of your sweet confection and i'll feel the death by chocolate.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So effortlessly buoyant. I wish I could float on that feeling forever.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This longing for you is growing....untenable.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... there's really only one thing i can say in that very touching moment: You bring me back to life again. I'm speechless.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">but... sometimes i think we are walking on the same path - hand in hand - and then, in the next moment it feels like as if we had lost the contact because you are on Neptune and i am on Mars. ...</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I want your voice - now.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ahhhh, there you are. I think about you often. You're like an itch I can't scratch. How was your summer? How are you? I missed you. You are a source of longing, a lake of placid water, cool and reflecting and too beautiful to touch.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Someone should print out our correspondence and make a pretty little sad book with it.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But today, i couldn't resist to send a message. I've missed you so much. And now i'm very glad to read your typed voice again. It's kinda soothing for the mind.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It is/was so out of balance that it was making me dizzy.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Like all of us, he had his demons.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Please keeping your fingers crossed that everything will turn out fine. I worry about to get an inflammation.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Now that sounds like a nice damn dream. You should go back to sleep and live there.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I'm so glad but as you can assume the tension was very heavy that's why i should better go to bed now.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Life is wonderful when I read stories like this. Maybe I've lost this information somewhere in my muddled brain. Thank you for sharing such private stuff with me. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I just want to clasp some of your flesh in my hand, is that so much to ask?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... holy jeez... that would be incredibly nice. Phew... i can imagine it - </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... she's so starved out................I wanna taste your spit.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... how would you name your own candy shop?</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A store where you'd sell thousand different candies.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I think it's a perfect plan to kill 2 birds with one stone... or so.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Sugar will the death of me, but sex might just save my life.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Kinda like a well-dressed felled tree.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">...it really fucks my soul so hard that I can't even think of something else than my demons and the past. </span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Music is definitely the healing force... but L can do its rest. The combination of </span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> both can heal a broken soul...</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">... I'm melting... these collarbones...</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">It's all an act. My head is barely above water.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Like most fiction, it's a combination of both.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But I know I'm pretty ugly at times.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shut your mouth.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Volcanic body eruption?</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I wish I could destroy all these things which tortures your body.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Maybe I could crawl 'em away with my fingertips?</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Or scratch 'em out of your veins with my nails?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I like the way how you talk yourself into a rage.</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Sometimes it's like as if I'm standing in front of a big mountain when I wanted to respond on a statement (like: 'I carry you with me'):</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I am wondering, can only two people perform an orgy? Or does an orgy has more participants?</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Prettiest girl in the shittiest world.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: -11pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You, me and the sunset.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You can use my voice whenever you want.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Gimme that thing. I'll read it for you. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.6667px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There's something wrong with my heart.</span></span></span></div>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-34901353214868888352015-11-19T16:52:00.000-08:002015-11-19T16:53:30.593-08:00TALKIN' DEM OL' TERMBO BLUES<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div id="docs-internal-guid-2cb180c3-2250-2035-4655-e26678b1652f" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fire Engines "Codex Teenage Premonition"</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="234px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/r400yi3cpzgz1wNbAmLNOihPGYT94WAuLzZq9N9J8vXzAx-fiNPVewwVtyi5YDmozKc4vFMVIIo8AciHoUcLiIUjFteLOhivoJJUgejWi7IV-Ndewnal5kHZTme5XSmpYSX1CnH2" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="234px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Fire Engines were a band from Edinburgh, Scotland that existed for exactly 18 months during those golden years of UK post-punk, 1979 – 1981. They released a few hard to find seven inches and one LP, most of which is collected on the out-of-print ‘Fond’ CD. They were outsiders lurking on the more melodically conventional Postcard Records scene of Orange Juice and Aztec Camera. They had more in common with bands like The Mekons and The Scars, thus drawing them into Fast Product’s orbit, resulting in a brief flurry of exciting releases. Fire Engines legacy remained one of polite post-punk legend, until dance-rock posterboys Franz Ferdinand sashayed their way onto the international rock scene and made it OK to be a weird Scottish post-punk from the past. They started name-dropping Fire Engines and Orange Juice in interviews and people were interested again. Orange Juice was recently rewarded with a nice retrospective, but that wasn’t good enough for Fire Engines; the original band reunited. They have since played shows with Franz Ferdinand and recorded some new material.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Unfortunately, instead of re-releasing ‘Fond,’ or, even better, compiling a newer, more definitive collection, the Domino label, in collaboration with Creeping Bent, has issued a live CD with recordings taken from a few different shows in 1980 and 1981. The recordings are of decent sound quality and it’s a nice thing to have if you are already a fan and it could even work as an introduction to the band, but it’s certainly not ideal. There are a few Peel Sessions tacked onto the end. Nevertheless, ‘Codex Teenage Premonition’ will give you an idea of what Fire Engines were all about: terse yet danceable rhythms, barbed guitars colliding haphazardly, but still nailing memorable melodies, some guy periodically bleating a bunch of nonsense. But don’t think this is some polished cuff-link rock a la Franz Ferdinand; Fire Engines keep on moving like nervous little sharks. Why stop to correct a mistake when you’ve got so much momentum built up? As they went along, they settled into quirky pop, but they never let go of their initial spark. We shall see if that still holds true, I suppose.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Domino Records // </span><a href="http://www.dominorecordco.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.dominorecordco.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hospitals "I’ve Visited The Island of Jocks and Jazz" CD/LP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/5C-BuxcoPtZEt_UeLI_6YTJgSlKTjPxk-_ZsV0zpnuV201BQ197yUrNVXusENiZ-W-Xr0Nl-NZ6Mat6m1zUO-uqh2-dQLTyTTtXbjfHIc-LQpRSnDItbbSAOMOmrBTUj9HkpnP96" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I come to the Hospitals relatively unscarred. Wanted to check the debut but never did, missed ‘em when they played my town cuz I was too busy traipsing around Europe like a dandy, and I definitely didn’t have the dedication to track down the Rich People 12” on Yakisakana that was mostly covers (of cool shit like Harry Pussy, Homosexuals, and The Who). Well, that’s OK, cuz I saw ‘em recently and they were pretty good, nothing earth-shattering, but it intrigued me enough to scoop up their new one. I also admit to being intrigued by a band that could move from In The Red to Load, arguably two of the best contemporary underground rock labels in the US. To the layman eye these labels appear to be on divergent paths, but go fuck your duck cuz Human Eye could also easily be on Load and Lightning Bolt recently appeared on a Guitar Wolf tribute comp. So, if my peanut butter tastes funky in your chocolate, maybe you need to redefine your palate, eh, mon ami?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">How’s the rec, you ask? Not too shabby. It took a minute for it to sink in. Sure, there is plenty of disconnected, semi-interesting hoo-haw laying around like dirty laundry; hell, that’s half of the record (clocking at 24:46, it’s not exactly an epic). But then there are monster stompers like the aforementioned “Rich People” and “She’s Not There.” Sometimes drummer/singer Adam Stonehouse is a little too enamored with the sound of his voice through analog delay, but this is balanced by a suitably nihilistic and misanthropic atmosphere. Much of this atmosphere appears to be the work of producer (probably hates that term) Chris Woodhouse, who has yet to make a bad sounding record (that I’ve heard atleast). At first, the record seems muddy and washed-out, but once you adapt to the wet rag drumming and vacuum guitars, you begin to feel as if you are trapped in a closet that is slowly filling with dark swamp water. The second half of the record highlights the sing-songy rant “Problems.” Most of the album features Ned Meiners (also of So So Many Jabs at Their Band), but previous guitarist Jon Dwyer (formerly of Coachwhips) shows up on “She’s Not There” and the odd-timed yet tuneful plod of “Be.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Load Records // </span><a href="http://www.loadrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.loadrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Made in Mexico "Zodiac Zoo" CD/LP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="132px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/fV3NjMHwSyoV4sohGOtSe4yAt6oE2Q0GSJvgr9VnF5pOIoSmTREm2QgtOU5obNp3x7DyIWu5Brmsk_GKrC-iP6x4Vp7i4WeZHkx4yU1m3zF-MktQAnTsj4buVCvZMtddMsfokMI5" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="132px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Chicago’s Skin Graft record label has been very quiet since the turn of the millenia. Maybe it was tired; you would be to if you had spent the previous decade redefining noise rock. Now it is trying to rear its four-colored head again. A couple lackluster releases last year didn’t promise much, but Made in Mexico comes a little closer. Featuring Jeff Schneider, former guitarist of Arab On Radar, these guys start off strong with “Farewell Myth,” which opens as a raga then bursts into a punishing forward groove that recalls the Jesus Lizard circa ‘Goat.’ The rhythm section sounds great on this recording, but too often they wade around in the same area of the pool. “Clockwork” introduces a slightly funkier approach coupled with Schneider’s US Maple-after-a-case-of-Red-Bull guitar, but it’s back to the same old dirge on the next song. Rebecca Mitchell’s infrequent vocals don’t add much to the proceedings, but they don’t really get in the way either. She lets out some nice shrieks to accompany the frantic blur of “Napalm Springs,” which is followed by a cover of MX-80 Sound’s “Face of the Earth” that reveals the one-dimensional bones of Made in Mexico. Maybe it’s just the dry recording and these guys might really come at you in a live setting. Too often, the songs are content to just sit there, never quite exploding or pummeling you as hard or as fast as you want. At its best, Made in Mexico conjure visions of a hardcore Art Bears, which is an intriguing proposition, so we’ll see how they do on the next one.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Skin Graft Records // </span><a href="http://www.skingraftrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.skingraftrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Old Time Relijun "2012" CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There’s something so right about Old Time Relijun. To most ears there probably appears to be something really horribly terribly wrong with said combo, but if those ears are looking for true American primitive stomp, well, Hasil Adkins is dead and it’s a new millennium. This is OTR seventh full-length, sixth for K, and they just keep on howling away. OTR is the brainchild of one Arrington de Dionyso, who is somewhat of a backwoods scholar, a rustic punk cross between Harry Smith and Albert Ayler. He scratches furiously at the guitar, wails crazy speak-in-tongues musings about menstruating witch-women and the end of the world, honks and drones on the sax like a man possessed, and even engages in the occasional fit of throat-singing or jew’s-harp jawing. It’s a lovely thing. Meanwhile, drummer Jamie Peterson and upright bassist Aaron Hartman lay down thick, insidious grooves for Dionyso to do his thing over. Songs like “Wolves and Wolverines” and “Your Mama Used To Dance” split the difference between the Contortions and Captain Beefheart, all fidgety slink and creepy growl. The upright bass is an essential element of their sound, adding a real physicality to the sound. After nearly ten years though, Old Time Relijun is showing a little professionalism, smoothing off a few edges and nudging up the fidelity just a hair. But 2012 is just as potent a brew as their older work, not-so-quietly carving out place for themselves in some aspiring ethnomusicologist’s dissertation, and, hopefully, even better, some punk kid’s overactive imagination.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(K Records // </span><a href="http://www.krecs.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.krecs.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Ex "Singles. Period."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="267px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/TQUQSOWPMsi8tZTJmbBamtCJf5ADZHqBPYqQWAYzaBuXo3r1BE53aNxybvfyh8XAHo6fsTeSTV_pzMkHsB9rv3y1Kh6zqU44imkIlIeBorL2Xe49vLBqXPvA7ekLdWV2oNl8FzDz" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="267px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> To a certain segment of the world’s punk populace, Amsterdam’s The Ex represent one of the pinnacles of this sub/counterculture we love so dearly. Drop any notions of rock n’ roll glory and you may be inclined to agree. Over 25 years since their first release and they are still going strong, still vital, if not better than ever. Basement shows are all well and good, but how about a self-financed tour of Ethiopia and then leaving all of your instruments in the hands of fascinated and thoroughly-rocked villagers? That's some shit, as they say.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This longtime-coming compilation collects The Ex’s non-LP, out-of-print vinyl appearances from their first decade. Beginning with a host of short, sharp songs that split the difference between Gang of Four and the Minutemen, following their early line-up changes and a growing obsession with murky, noisy, almost industrial tracks, and back into the solidified line-up’s mastery of rhythmically shifting and guitar-destroying post-punk. These guys and gals never lost their edge and it’s a thrilling listen. From the frantic “Human Car” to the bitter humor of “Gonna Rob The Spermbank” to the anthemic pounding of “Stonestampers Song,” The Ex continued to challenge themselves and grow, setting themselves up for the radical makeover of their impending interest in ethnic musics. It all wraps up nicely with a great and appropriate cover of brothers-in-arms The Mekons’ “Keep On Hoppin’.” The informative booklet reproduces all of the original records’ artwork and has first-person accounts of each release and the evolution of the band. Essential for fans, highly recommended for the neophyte.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/9uojwKnu9hGgD9uwzmBMNpqz3IK7DOUm6XliAwkEnL2UMF943Ku4_1ISgeY-SD_FBHb6sC_83t3TFe9KBGzh5MRbG6kz1fGEbhafjs_9D3g_7VHRPA06imNlNFHIRG8VUck-2F3r" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Ah, British post-punk, how I love you so. A time when the sexes were equal, inspiration plentiful, and the rules were being rewritten for rock and roll. The three lads in Scritti Politti decided to join in the fun after seeing the Sex Pistols and picking up a record by DIY pioneers The Desperate Bicycles. A classic start. Although they were influenced by similar artists as their post-punk brethren, Scritti Politti sculpted these influences into a new and unexpected sound. Nial Jinks’ busy dub-style bass contains almost all the melody, nimbly working around small clusters of notes. The drums alternately thump and splash, playfully ducking and weaving the bass. Scritti Politti was Welsh-born vocalist/guitarist Green Gartside’s (now that’s a name straight out of Joyce) brainchild, and his odd approach to both instruments gives Scritti Politti its uniqueness. The guitar is a trebly, wavering thing, like a shy butterfly attempting to land on your nose. His voice sounds preoccupied, as if he’s singing these elliptical lyrics to himself as he makes himself a spot of tea.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Between 1978 and 1980, Scritti Politti released a series of 7” EPs, each one a little missive to the outside world. Their political and cultural concerns played out to the faithful willing to decode these cryptic messages. On the epoch-defining “Messthetics,” they tell us, “We know what we’re doing,” as beautiful ramshackle melodies crash around them. In other words, don’t mistake amateurism for lack of passion. Gartside later shed the rhythm section and began trading in smooth, if skewed, R & B-influenced pop. But thanks to Rough Trade, you now have a nice lesson in early, unfettered inspiration from a few disconnected smarties.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="155px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/ZIvYxslErLGahUdSkT8AKA9YZbXxzixiE4LfMK4qPSnK55yUTMBS8MJFp0HmDKncd2AvyDF5OnfynmV5UcSDZgAEgKZKthD6Zd03sBrmEa57MRA_BMg1qKEDngWX5kgt44Iz1A-k" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> You should be able to peruse an interview with the queens in Battleship somewhere else around here; wait, back a couple pages, no, yeah, right there. If you figure the music has gotta be better than that interview, then go pick up this 7" for a quick glimpse into Battleship mk. II, a primer for their forthcoming LP. "Two Horses Too Many" alternates harsh angularity with galloping hardcore that spotlights Bean's deep, Jah Wobbly bass stabs. "No Time For Love" is a breathless rant that comes off particularly well live. The recorded version lacks a little of the live bite, particularly on the breakdown, but you can still feel the self-loathing when Aleks demands that you realize, "I AM THE PROBLEM, I AM TO BLAME." I knew it was your fault, asshole.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Be Your Own Pet "Summer Sensation" EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/_KLwszqFaxo9nSEa3ymWaaJRRBaDnxLyN3XXHx0gptLd6kMV7sMwnmkTTyL2WYTdgGYzVeOyXiz0_u43G9f1edmc3Wqs5izpqjCHUBDg4xAbwP5D3sLBCxgxM-RxTFKuvB5qt7eK" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Are these guys (and gal) on MTV yet? I have no idea, I don't get that channel, but I'm not oblivious to the point that I am unaware of the massive hype behind this young Tennessee band. Their debut full-length just came out, but here I am with the EP (most of which looks to be on the LP). Not oblivious, but definitely late. Oh well. Hey, am I lame? I dig this! First two cuts, "Bicycle, Bicycle," and "Girls on TV" lay down the law with frantic guitars 'n drum beats and Jemina's bold vocals. She's calling you out, not to fight, but to party. I'm down. Let's gather the bikes and 40s and get dirty. "Fire Department" is as good as anything the Yeah Yeah Yeahs (an obvious comparison) have written and twice as exciting. Love those vocal cracks on the "safety pin" line; in fact, just love the vocals period. They really take this band over the top. The next track tries too hard to nail the YYYs vibe, but that's OK cuz it ends with another fast one. There's elements of indie rock, punk, garage, but nothing dominates. It's like what really good "Alt-Rock" should be. But jacked up on sugar rushes and tight shirts; a soundtrack to your next front-seat grope session. If the youth of America are smoking first joints and giving/getting first blowjobs to this, Mika Miko, Black Lips, and other youthful miscreants, then right on. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Ecstatic Peace // </span><a href="http://www.ecstaticpeace.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.ecstaticpeace.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/vX34F4hyv-y1flBAXTO-da2IXwe605JXE05cBycApxKOjT6JQdOK9bDG__PtQxr3CNv-BdILhgjSLTHn4wemcVARTRzWiWl0_tB1Pk4fnL5ppYZlF2XB9LQNvdrqV4CdBJrPFPAO" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Really gotta wonder what Thurston's thinking here. He inks a deal with Universal to manufacture a slew of new, rock-oriented releases on his formerly record-collector geek label, Ecstatic Peace!, and proceeds to sign some real head-scratchers. Lemme throw out a few names: Green Magnet School. Kudgel. If those names mean anything to you, you are probably staring 30 down the barrel, or,more likely, can barely make out that sign-post in the rearview mirror. We're talkin early 90s indie-grunge, folks, Boston-style. This band features ex-members of, and, honestly, it would've really put 'em over the top if they had someone who used to be in Spore. So, let's cut to the chase. 'Invisible Jet' is one of the most boring, useless, monochromatic albums I have heard in a long damn time. It's just one mid-tempo snoozefest after another. There is absolutely not one dynamic shift over the course of the entire 47 minute record. You almost have to respect a band that can manage to capture a feeling, one feeling (ennui), and take it to its logical end (zzzzzzz). It's virtually mind-blowing. Imagine a generic "meat and potatoes" rock rec prepared by an English grandmother, ie. every last bit of flavor has been boiled out. Not even a guest appearance by Roger Miller can save this disc. You'd be better off scoring that Green Magnet School/Six Finger Satellite split for $1.50 at the shitty used shop down the street. Oh, it's there, trust me, right next to those Skin Yard CDs.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Ecstatic Peace!/Universal // www.ecstaticpeace.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Erase Errata "Nightlife" LP/CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Erase Errata's third album finds them reduced to a trio and playing with less ideas than in the past. With the departure of guitarist Sara Jaffe, singer/trumpeter Jenny Hoyston moves to guitar and their organic progression has been halted somewhat. Erase Errata still sound like a nerd-pleasing blend of Crass, Dog Faced Hermans, and Delta 5, but, unfortunately, the music has lost a lot of the rough n' tumble instrumental interplay that provided many of their more thrilling moments. Things start off promisingly with "Cruising," a nice slice of no wave disco, but any steam is quickly lost. "Another Genius Idea From Our Government" wastes some tasty bass with obvious lyrics and a frustratingly truncated song structure. Many of the tracks feel unfinished and rushed. "Tax Dollar" sounds like classic Erase Errata, but it just seems like two steps back at this point. A good band, but perhaps their time (and the style they helped revitalized) has passed.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Kill Rock Stars // </span><a href="http://www.killrockstars.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.killrockstars.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Zach Hill and Mick Barr "Shred Earthship" CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="144px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/Fs6NstLvtx9KWAPFYC86NMEDsnfU73mpBB6-IbBBwd1wlrkMG4H3TuXBGsFBhwhV-xGOMbHkU-9HvLU-_CRdeKIfujHat-6EfxdatzfhYABD2cqfXCqwTbQkLvJSFkn_RvzhVwd3" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="144px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Too bad there's already a band called Headache City cuz these guys truly deserve the tag. Mick Barr (Crom-Tech/Orthrelm/Octis/etc) is an absurdly talented guitarist and Zach Hill (Hella and a bunch of "super" groups) is a ridiculously amazing drummer, but they have officially vanished up their own rectums. They held a ceremony somewhere in Buttfuck, Idaho. Mick got an Eddie Van Halen splatter-painted guitar and Zach was given a mini-replica of Neil Pert's drum-kit. Then they fisted each other, much to the delight of the gathered hordes of off-set silk-screened-T-shirt-and-black-horn-rimmed glasses-sporting mega-geeks who chattered away like nighttime insects blogging about the coming apocalypse on their Black Berries filled with eye-popping graphics and wacky samples from Cartoon Network shows. Then, Zach and Mick recorded this album and everyone's head exploded with glee and their empty corpses were retrieved by the (that's right) Shred Earthship and transformed into bearded hippies who began frantically searching for obscure English folk records.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Which brings us to Hella, and their new EP, 'Acoustics.' When Hella's first record, 'Hold Your Horse Is,' came out in 2002 it really was the next-step on the evolutionary math-rock ladder. Combining Breadwinner crunch with Don Caballero innovation, a new dawn rose on the seemingly dead world of instrumental calisthenics. A few interesting EPs followed, then a backwards-glancing LP, then a double CD albatross that hung very heavily around this former fan's neck. Maybe I was getting dumber, but when the duo grew into a full-fledged 5 person band, I jumped ship. Their music became so dense it actually achieved the opposite effect of evaporating into thin air. I never went to college, so, y'know, I still like a little groove in my music. The OG members, Hill and guitarist Spencer Seim, scale things back here and actually give us a glimpse into what a Hella front-porch jam might sound like. All the songs performed are past favorites from 'Hold...' and 'The Devil Isn't Red.' It's refreshing to hear these guys not buried under stacks of effects and technique. These older songs contain tantalizing snatches of melody and twists and turns that compliment the music instead of obscuring it. Perhaps one day some enterprising nerd will compile an 'Anthology of American Math Rock' and this EP will bridge the gap for the old-timers. (5 Rue Christine)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="144px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/M5xoJx5_SWR60p09zNqvM2YHEHAIHZy8158UT1VJ2v5GuRrF9zsgh1TuFDH8ocp7egZvop_BFASJcQWo6WIp7KBYGcKuwHpQk8y6wtwlN9UlWkWhQtEdjuPINGC5eAX4UJEt87eR" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="144px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> This long, periodically interesting, occasionally torturous, CD is mainly the work of one Ms. Ore and some dude named "Lemon Bear," all recorded in a secluded cabin in Northern California. Or something. It doesn't really matter, although you do get that "Forest Feeling" (as one track is called) at points. You also get the feeling you're stuck out in some abandoned lumber facility in northeastern Washington and you're being hunted by an owl and his talking tin can companion. And they're tugging a sack full of murmuring corpses behind them. The music is made with all sorts of rattling junk percussion, like a backwoods Neubaten. The vocals are sustained yowls, grunts, cries, and elongated shrieks like a chorus of dead Japanese children in one of those horror flicks they like to remake over here. Sometimes the demon-exorcising gets a bit much and it's almost comedic. Other times they hit the creep factor of Animal Collective's 'Here Comes The Indian.' You may have heard better examples of this Caroliner-esque cacophony, but this one'll do for your next camping-and-shrooms trip. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="144px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/m11CyngZ0EQjfniVijZzjXAdOLRG-EkaA3ITOhfQC3gzcvlqhbWQU_DaPUGZv12EF4bl0jo5RrEDLRpgOdblIZ_ZB3Bk-3Zyh8IMS8IRsRjptgw_Dg8IU1JtMgvOAmzMVKmW9vct" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="144px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> If you've ever been on MySpace you've probably heard of this band (50,000 + views!). And you probably mentally discarded them as a bunch of shit, as a "MySpace band," the lowest of the low. Well, let me ask you this: Do you like the music contained on Dischord's 'Flex Your Head' comp? Have you ever jumped around your room listening to The Slits' 'Peel Sessions'? Then I've got a record for you, champ. Here 'tis. Yes, indeedie, "early Slits crossed with early harDCore," it's a no-brainer, and it's a fun thing to do for 20 minutes. The first song even throws a head-nod at The Slits with it's title, "Take Her Serious," but it could just as well be a lost Artificial Peace track. There's really not much to say about this record, except that it might be the most fun hardcore punk record to come out in ages and it's just fucking good and it will put a smile on your face, unless you just can't get down with five post-teenage girls totally making you wanna pogo like a doof, steal Reese's Cups and Red Bulls from the convienence store, sneak into the neighbor's pool and skinny-dip, and then take a bunch of those dumb-ass photo booth photos with even your ugly friends and paste 'em on your bedroom door, and then go get a burrito.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="170px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/jMtOcRlazgegsQdIcO2Mm3EAr_uaq8ZqDRBxQQgld7t6wic1M3wW8xHPJzkig-LLO8c1j0BgvWg7wNvxOK61CVr4_UNDvcZnGiWFSyEFmwOb5wyiatPDnzzrCb8nYd2O9r7wXW-x" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Sure, you've read every asshole's description of this record, this band's triumphant re-emergence, the finally-recognized genius of this most influential of US proto-post-punk bands (makes no sense, right?). So, let's focus on the details. Like how near the end of this CD, Clint Conley's songs begin to sound like the textured rock he has put forth with his other project Consonant's (quite good) two albums. The dude didn't play music for over 15 years and then he writes 3 albums worth of songs! And how Roger Miller, the intellectual of the bunch, has two songs on here ("Donna Sumeria" and "Careening with Conviction") that lock down some almost-dance grooves, while his guitar performs its casual brilliant tricks over top. And Peter Prescott's final contribution, "Period," sounds like it could have come from an early Volcano Suns record (high time that shit was reissued). Hell, now I wish I hadn't got rid of those Kustomized CDs. Prescott is the last true believer in the healing power of burly, tuneful noise rock. Someone give that guy a plaque, he deserves 20 bucks for every time he shouted like a drunk guy in a bar. I love that yell. He still does it, perfectly off-timed during Burma gigs, somehow shouting over their overdriven squall. It's enough to bring a tear to your eye, like watching the Minutemen documentary and thinking about what D. Boon would be doing now, the amazing things he would have come up with on guitar and the lyrics he would have written. Lyrics that cut to the core, through all the bullshit of "advertising psychology." Why am I talking about the Minutemen? Because Mission of Burma are back to represent fallen heroes like them; great bands lost to the sands of time and the uncaring general public. They are back for some sort of US art-punk/hardcore redemption, for all "the bands that could be your life." It's fucking glorious and they have now put out two great albums full of new, topical, and exciting songs, and it feels right. Better than right: Righteous. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Negative Trend "We Don't Play, We Riot" CD-EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="100px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/3Wvr5sbUDLoFWyyy_ReDxl90LY4M_QLu6drmbp_MOJTw4bgRzodHix-Ovo6NhRHqHmZWXyOX3hvt7E048250TwPMfIThTNzw0XIcVc0f4uGZKXsOFv5NWwEgUtB_n_cbeUkGqu4M" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="100px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Negative Trend! NEGATIVE TREND!! NEGATIVE FUCKING TREND!!! You make me cream in my jeans, Negative Trend. I love you in all of your twisted histories and myriad guises. Some people want to write you off as "the band those dudes were in before Flipper," but those dolts must have never heard you, because then they would know that not a single early (we're talkin 77-78, bitches!) US punk band could hold a candle to the incendiary power and reckless abandon in your music. First, with Rozz, you tore up the nascent Mabuhay Gardens scene, daring any onlooking civilian to get up close to the stage, daring them to be immersed in the chaos, the pure anarchy of out-of-control rock n' roll. You wanted to rub their faces in your frayed-knot lives, your sick, violent everyman thoughts. (Beg, borrow, or steal the posthumous 'The Pop Sessions' EP.) Then Mikal Waters joined and you honed your attack, started seeing the world outside the urban paranoia wheel you ran on, and that's where this CD comes in.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">You might think that Henry Rollins ruined Black Flag (and I'm not gonna argue with you), but goddamn if that musclehead doesn't have great taste when it comes to fringe rock n' roll. This is a guy who reissued essentials like Gang of Four, The Monks, The Contortions, Devo, The Birthday Party, and more, almost single-handedly leading to and subconsciously nurturing several mini-revivals of various styles (but we don't have time to discuss that now). The point is, Hank has rescued this first, classic 7" EP from Negative Trend (also reissued on 12" by Subterranean in '84), remastered it, and slapped it on a cheap (5 clams) CD for all the sorely-lacking punks out there. Keep doing that stand-up, Rollins baby. And writing those horrible books. I don't care, if you keep doing things like this. You might be familiar with 3 out of 4 of these songs from Posh Boy's 'Beach Blvd' comp (and the 'Tooth and Nail' comp and a 7" and...), where Negative Trend had deadage teen Rik L. Rik singing these songs (and billed under his name, which is kind of a shame). And, honestly, Rik sang these songs better, but he had one of the all-time great punk voices, and Mikal does just fine, sounding less haunted and more pissed off ("RHODESIA!"). And the one song they didn't re-do, "How Ya Feelin'?," is a delicious slice of kiss-off step-over-you-in-the-gutter punk. These guys invented hardcore as much as Black Flag, Middle Class, or The Germs. Maybe that's why they sought solace in the nod-out nihilism of Flipper; they had already pushed it to the edge before others even knew where it was. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Noxagt s/t LP/CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="100px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/BM4-kg4A9o5FUEiHHc7zIT7mjvS77JPRBpRy7Ckqqtp_NucThpf7C_1ypszKZVUc8mZnsLbxPr_IrKq40ZY7CJ0vw8onGdep5PnJQdLxSGcvBAqoVUe51X7q1Da9LuIUbukNZbvG" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="100px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> On their second album, "The Iron Point", Norway's Noxagt had truly reached a peak. A perfect meld of skullcap crush and frozen lake beauty, the album moved methodically between tracks of Viking berserker rage and calm-before-the-storm placidity. It was a striking sound, enabled in part by their atypical 'heavy band' line-up of electric viola/bass/drums. If John Cale had ever sat in with Swans (and he should have), this is the havoc they would have wreaked. Now Noxagt come at us with their third record and you may wonder, "What happened to that sawing, mesmerizing viola?" It's gone and so is its master, Nils Egra. In his place stands Anders Hana and his "spring loaded" baritone guitar. Some of that previously discussed finesse is gone, but it is by replaced an even more bludgeoning attack, with weird axe effects that jump out at you like a dragon in its death-throes. Records like this are quite functional in day-to-day life. You can drink, fuck, pillage (that's drinking and fucking), or dick around on the internet to this album, and there's no pesky vocals to draw your attention away from the nonstop sonic sledgehammer. Noxagt - Add it to your toolbox.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Load Records // </span><a href="http://www.loadrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.loadrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Oneida "Happy New Year" LP/CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/OwkXR9nNJZ8t0lhzsrCCT-DR2eq-1VN1s-8kUu-CTLB-z5lepmc7jhu7usP1HgxiSrkkro7QQ7y6ljskmTu1DJOT4HO_NFfduIthNhNNZQ_3clpVhhANKk-ATPeiDh7LFPGVomNZ" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Originally, this was supposed to be a triple-LP called 'Thank Your Parents.' Supposedly, that ambitious idea will still come to fruition, and if so, hopefully it will provide a few more highlights than this, perhaps my least fave record in the vast Oneida ouevre. It's certainly the gentlest, which may be part of the problem. There is a distinct lack of frantic organ stabs or marathon drum sequences or sweetly fried classic rock riffs drilling their way into your crainium. As they proved on their last full-length, 'The Wedding,' Oneida can lay down lullabyes for the forest nymphs as well as any furry freak folk ensemble. And as they've proved on almost every other album (and at every live show), no one can match their repetitive, acid-drenched trance-rock. This is by no means a bad album (I don't think they're capable). If you are a fan, I say you need it. If you are curious, I say head toward 'Secret Wars' if you need to grab onto something resembling reality, then you've got some serious work ahead with 'Each One Teach One' and 'Anthem of the Moon,' two masterpieces of latter-day US psych, and you haven't even gotten to the original band (w/ Papa Crazee) yet! I think they just added Phil Manley of Trans Am on guitar, so I can imagine we may be getting some fucked-up biker-rock soon (or maybe that Demolition Derby soundtrack they've always hinted at). Oh yeah, as for this record, I gotta say that my main beef with it, besides it's kind of there/not-there aridity (which works just fine in the post-coital state) is the ball-dropping on what should be the monster track, "Up With People." This mutant disco groove machine has been a staple of their live set for years, and yours truly pleaded with them to release it on a white label 12" w/ a super-danced out B-side version (ya know, for da club), but, alas, it comes at the end of side one and it just ain't the JAM. I mean, it's cool, but in no way does it capture the total hypno-groove I've seen them lay down on this bitch in various dingy rock clubs. Oh well, you can't win 'em all, and Oneida are winners, so don't get too comfy.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Red Limo "Soulful Attack" 7"/CD EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When I was handed this, I was told, "This is my garage rock band," but damned if these New York-by-way-of-North Carolina black-clad dudes don't sound like some old Raw Records band, complete with English accents and tweaked practice-space sonics. Maybe they don't even realize how much they sound like a second-wave second-tier Brit punk band, but I actually find it oddly refreshing. (self-released)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Seconds "Kratitude" LP/CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="144px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/19sF8qsEsEGRAXhRKID7KrXeQ6M6CjGSOpvJcAHCGF4urW1uo6mWL41syNPQnQq5ez2h9EoQs8qyDgQS9kBy-_XtzsbttXKm3NDr-IGdcVITmvR9iyP_izIZVRQeIu2At2_pDgab" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="144px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Dunno what it is, maybe I've changed, maybe it's the growing uncertainty of the international geopolitical situation, who knows, but all of the new releases by Bands I Like are relegating them to the category of Bands I Used to Like. Take this Seconds record, for instance. Their first LP, 'Y', was one of the great recs of the "dance-punk craze." Hyper, addictive, sharp, clean, Minutemen-esque, it really brought the goods. Years later, and this part-time crew (main dude Zach is in Ex Models and other projects; drummer Brian Chase is in some band called Yeah Yeah Yeahs) finally get around to following that platter up, and it's just kind of...there. Sitting in the middle of the table, not exactly spoiling, but not exactly begging you to consume it with its heady aroma. Again, the album jumps the gate in fine fashion with "Moving," which sounds like an homage to DNA's "Not Moving." Or perhaps its sequel. Or evil twin. The yammering vocals, "slowly moving moving slowly slowly moving...", continue throughout the album, as if the studio has been invaded by dead Dada poets. Most tracks are repeating rhythms churning away piston-like underneath random shards of guitar noise (they call this approach Krakitude, but you could just call it "La Monte Young for Punks"). Call and response vocals disorient, but mostly just distract. Nothing is being said, but maybe that's the point. Seems like a lot of these bands have given up on Song, and are now just going for Sensation, which is fine, but they are not meeting us halfway. They are beckoning from the other side of the river, but it doesn't seem worth the trouble to get there.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(5RC // </span><a href="http://www.5rc.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.5rc.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shoplifting "Body Stories" LP/CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">From the ashes of the original Chromatics line-up (before they got all death disco) rise Shoplifting, a mixed-gender combo who carry on in a classic P. Northwest art-punk stylee. So far they have released a 12" (pretty good) and a 7" (really good). Now comes their first full-length and what can I say, but "It's a mixed bag." Much like the first Chromatics LP on GSL, you've got some nice highs and some rather tedious lows. The second track, "Male Gynecology," is a creepy-crawling tale of some dude trying to make himself pregnant (I think). It moves along deliberately, guitars shimmering and odd sounds clicking away in the background. It's followed by "Talk of the Town," an inferior rerecording of the single's highlight. Some meandering instrumentals follow and the album doesn't pick up steam again until "Illegalistas," which bares a lot of similarities to "Talk of the Town," so it seems kind of redundant. The album was produced by the great Steve Fisk, and, on a track like "Syncope Riders," he gives the band the same sci-fi sheen he gave Unwound on 'Repetition,' but even excellent sound can't disguise the fact that there's not a whole lot of SONG floating around. And the band seems oddly subdued, unlike the 7", where it sounded as if they would beat you up for calling them queer. You could do worse in trying to resurrect the glory days of past Washington State art-punk, but this isn't quite there yet.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Kill Rock Stars // www.killrockstars.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/KzWgK0F1fynFO44Ls3TCjynEEItnlOFR0HKck3tzCivSkjITh5zME_ID61fgoDCxjsXcoS8g8jr4EYweTgwDSvmitAugecJ3kjC2TKTE1mA_Vx4_VysxILt0OnBTFenoPqpyRv6V" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Another dud from EP! Tam is some chick who bugged Mr. Moore with home-recorded CDRs until he acquiesced and compiled this pile of crap. Ugh. Makes you long for the days of early Smog or Sebadoh, when lone freaks and their 4-tracks really had something to say, and a whole new way of saying it. Everything Tam says is in this wailing, off-key, bad-lyric, grating tone and I don't wanna hear it no more. When I looked at the track-list I thought we might have something here. "Artificial Love"? "Better Off Dead"? "Modern Man"? Is this a lo-fi homage to vintage US punk/hardcore? Nay, nay, it is an homage to the formerly wonderful idea that "anyone can do it." Yes, yes, they can. Thank you, Tascam. Thank you, Protools. Thank you and fuck you.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Ecstatic Peace!/Universal // </span><a href="http://www.ecstaticpeace.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.ecstaticpeace.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="125px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/meWEbz2T-jQ4lq4kVApN4_OAT3nBHDg7BxVydqeSaDzjX3UkMTzZmQlVjTV6D8WFpu2WwnI9lyAfrXPDf868Udxev9dIpNdgm07l-2AXZzWEL2KOOa64Tuv6P6G5reWaa0PzwJ6u" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="125px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Last time Functional Blackouts were through, Rob (bassist) seemed amused/exasperated as I drunkenly tried to explain what the FBs sounded like to my roommate. "They make you wanna kill people," I kept saying over and over. Well, they do. "Frustration" is a good kill-people song, which is followed by "1-D March," that features Wendy Monitor on vocals and makes you wanna kill your TV set. I guess they are multi-faceted. OK, Rob? On the flip, Fashion Fashion actually make out pretty decent, considering they tested my patience heavily at Horriblefest. Their two cuts of gutter-dwelling Pagan-punk is satisfying, with "Busted Life" making out best, but they still suffer from a mild case of that dreaded disease, generica. I think these are just about gone, so hurry.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Car Commercials "Grant's Dead" cassette</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Car Commercials is Daniel Home Blitz's (and possible collaborators'?) down-home folk-concrete outfit. Trading in the high-strung pop of his day job, Car Commercials is a lonely, clattering, late-night phone call from the junkyard. "I've been thinking about this film I want to make. Lou Barlow kills Jandek, drags his body around, calls up Steve Stapleton to chat about it, then invites The Shadow Ring to come over and write a concept cassette about it. Fuck it, maybe I'll just skip the movie and make the music myself." I don't have voice mail, so I can only imagine what he really said.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Leaf Leaf Records // </span><a href="http://www.geocities.com/leafleafrecords" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.geocities.com/leafleafrecords</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Imaginary Icons "Eye-Cons" 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">New NY ensemble featuring booker prize winner Tom Dash on bass and vox and at least one dude from MHz. "Eye-Con," with its stops and starts and shouty group vocals, has some serious Homosexuals damage. If this was on the Astral Glamour collection you wouldn't bat an eyelash, and you might even throw it on a "best-of the best-of." B-side is a nice burst of moody synthy pop that pays respect to the possibilities of the early Eno sound. A great start for this new label.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Daggerman Records // www.myspace.com/daggermanrecords)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="205px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/rC2vOoVKjjasofZ21dxRBXWCWolxyutrF5QDwEoczDOrEfAuTbjedrdH4YyyXmhEyVZjEoIBLOI-NV2s5FH8YPW4yua1dwkGvRKQl9kx-BJXYOPunXL72lwFyRZNLFibgmlaX25o" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="200px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Now you can imagine how much a hate to disagree with my elders, but this time I can't just bite my tongue. Respectfully, Scott, there is more to be said about this record. Do I love it? Kinda. Have I played it a lot? Yes. It is impeccably played (sometimes too much so) and it sounds fantastic. Also, it is perhaps the most loving tribute to Pere Ubu ever put to record. It's really strange. These folks are all over the map, but it works most of the time. You might be able to detect fleeting moments of weird dance-punk, particularly in the singer's Ex Models-esque spazzy yelp, but dig deeper and a track like "Colors & #'s" is a virtual explosion of frantic and brawny (yes) new wave with a synth meltdown at the end that sounds like a sonic loveletter to Allen Ravenstine. "Ultraviolet" has a whole section of dub effects and playing that actually works. The last song on the first side, "Innerspace," dips a toe in so many styles of rock n' roll it's kind of disconcerting, but it's not in any sort of Mr. Bungle way, and it really is the song, and it fits. The fact that it ends with a section that is equally Pere Ubu, Neu!, and Th' Faith Healers, just makes perfect sense. I'm really harping on this Pere Ubu thing, huh? Well, flip the record over and witness how everything begins to stretch out into avant-garageland. More off-kilter wave-slash with real solid rock chops and more turns into dub. But it's at the end when the worship/homage really makes itself apparent. "To The Bar" starts off like something resembling a rock song that you can see a hundred kids jumping around like mad to, then it breaks down and switches gears into a high-velocity trip where they directly quote Ubu, "out in the real world/in real time..." as it erupts with noisy soloing, screaming synths, crashing everything. The last song, "Cloud 151" (yup, you read that right; "Cloud 149"), might as well be an Ubu cover. This sounds like an indictment of this album, but it's not. I really like it. The fact that these folks are from Columbus, Ohio makes it that much more understandable and laudable. Based on this record, Necropolis are sure to make some street waves (nyuk nyuk).</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Pink Reason 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="149px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/XrJUxRMjZjfLmK7VVz4iATk0qOE1AcN9nOqvBixVfSayp527A7BsPDS7BJG685P4kUpNr2teQKM_QitsMtjZKPuxEpJrX2qrNn2lDSlH3IYIkDQ2E6DBISv4DzsjpzVLcX_DRo-3" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> If you don't know who our friend Kevin (aka Vint) is, then you probably have a semblance of a life. If you do, then you spend time talking about dumb records with fellow nerds on the forum portion of this fine publication. That's OK, we all have flaws. And Kevin, despite his tendency to froth at the mouth over both mundane and arcane subject matter, understands this better than most. His solo joint, Pink Reason, is a means to come to terms with the shit we all wallow in, some more willingly than others. Kevin is unafraid to venture down deep, and we get to sit there in our cushy domiciles and ingest his findings. And they sound fine. This self-released 7" features a style-runnin gamut of sounds, from the nod-out strum of "Slate Train" to the seesawing electronic bells of "New Violence," which sounds like Skip Spence wandering into a Legendary Pink Dots recording session. The A-side, "Throw It Away," is especially choice, a moaning droning psych-blues with some nice, understated acoustic soloing at the end. Now inked to resurgent indie, Siltbreeze, and with a forthcoming 7" on Trickknee, be prepared to hear more fucked-up stories and haunted songs for awhile.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Coughs "Secret Passage" LP/CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Coughs, I want to love you. We had such a great first date with that Bent Babies EP. We've got this like thing, this playful flirting, a couple quick but meaningful glances. All my friends love you and they think we'd make a great couple, but I dunno. I dig the sounds you make: oil drum banging and sax bleating and guitar scratching and bass pounding, but I just dunno. That chick you got hollerin and screamin kinda turns me off. I need more than one dimension, more than one feeling, to really get off, y'know? You could look at some sort of equation, like: Savage Republic + Ebullition hardcore + Load Records dayglo-noise = Coughs. It almost fits my dating profile, but there's something missing. Songs? A more graceful touch? How's your bank account look? Just kidding, I ain't no gold-digger. I really like the double percussion thing, but sometimes lack of a kick-drum leads to lack of forward motion, and I'm sick of standing in place. I like long walks down seedy alleys. I like watching rats scurry about. Sounds like you might too, but maybe you just wanna screen-print T-shirts instead. I liked you in the flesh, but maybe we should wait until the next album to consummate our relationship. Sincerely, (EEK)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Foot Village "Fuck The Future" CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Foot Village are an LA-based collective that revel in lots and lots of drums and shouting ridiculous lyrics mainly about people and places, like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Peru, and the Isle of Man. This CD collects several different vinyl releases from the last few years. The instrumentation is all drums, played vigorously but not particularly well, and chanted male/female vocals. Sometimes it reaches an impressive density as multiple kits are beaten into submission. Sometimes it just sounds like rejects from the high school marching band getting revenge on their classmates. Broken-up freak-poppers Weirdo/Begeirdo stop by for what is probably the most engaging track, "World Fantasy," but just when you think it's going somewhere, the bus stalls, and you're stuck out in the desert without a glass of water or a pocket pussy. Life sucks, huh? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="160px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/9I89TSKCuaMJNLmmWDUXOS0YCRHUGdIRp_KwWsJZOjd7q6aJoJ1r6QP2W8Ejs1vsLK_BLs0VjNjvaThSJz-aC69QFuDMk0I29IP4sIIJqatke3OsvkbG0WL5WIRidL6fQL5ZSlUA" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="160px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> These two LP reissues are my favorite records of the year, and I don't know whether that makes me some sort of sad-sack nostalgia artist way behind the times or if that makes these guys and gals way ahead of theirs. Let's go for the latter, as these platters sound as fresh as anything coming out of the underground these days, or any day. If I there were a computer program that could design your personal perfect band (a la' Weird Science), then, for me, I'm sure it would skip the bullshit and spit out a couple discs by these Kraut-punks. Mixed gender membership? Check. Raw punk guitars? Hell yeah. Bouncy, spastic rhythms? Of course! Caterwauling in a language I don't understand? No doubt. Songs about Humphrey Bogart and consumer goods? Sho nuff. Occasional forays into girl-group balladry? Yes! Random overdubbed found sounds? Duh. And to think I had never heard of this band until friendly local record store clerk (ahem, manager) Prof. Snipes threw this on with one of those smiles that says, "You will love this and you now owe me your soul." Well, he was right, and there must be a special place in Hell reserved for me, but that's OK, cuz in that fiery pit they are nonstop-rockin Kleenex, Slits, Abwarts, Essential Logic, and Hans-A-Plast, and that sounds like a great goddamn party. These punks set out to be disposable ("Hansaplast" means something like Band-aid), but, like Kleenex or Wire or The Mekons, they instead became touchstones for an approach to the Punkly Arts that is still all too rare in this homogenized world. It's pointless to name highlights, because both of these LPs are virtually flawless. The first one (from '79) is "punkier," but the second one (from '80) is just as great. The second LP comes with the "Sex Sex Sex" single ('81) tacked on as a bonus, and they both come with cut-and-paste zines that further your understanding/confusion. If you have a taste for any of the aforementioned bands, then you owe it to your eternal soul to purchase these reissues. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="125px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/Eanvo0j0QyNoyveqHKZRdpobLjp6gDGovzDZ54-FbKgkSSve-lPzhE87x-n8uIO94XLCxUCC2YsFU-h_752vQ_XtCL2gadVf6AXSFgasqdMD-tecIDug6sl64rzfcZH27m6iuHOe" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="125px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Finally, some new Human Eye vinyl and not a minute too soon. I almost forgot who was the best and most interesting punk band in the US. There are some worthy contenders, to be sure, but no group is as simultaneously thrilling and mind-altering as these Detroit dudes. Throw away the comparisons to Chrome and the Electric Eels and Debris' and Simply Saucer, because Human Eye have entered their own time/space continuum and pay no tribute to no masters. "Dinosaur Bones" (brief aside: on the Gonerfest 2 DVD/CD there live track on the CD is billed as "Sly Glass Foam," but is in fact this number; also, how come no HE live footage?!) careens along recklessly, a frothing-at-the-mouth meditation on the future's past and the end product of self-extinction. It sounds like a vortex and should be playing over loudspeakers at the La Brea Tar Pits. The B-side was either printed wrong, or the sleeve is mislabeled, but, either way, it starts with a cover of the Urinals' "Hologram" that is different from the one floating around on the Human Eye demo a few years ago, and ends with "Shapes and Numbers," which rides a bi-polar sad/celebratory crescendo off into the sunset. Get. Now. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="175px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/nPfzbUS3h8H-N03ZIdmhBSo5lWQ98GEElLJUa_tblzAHbgqffNMf2-rmgYLTAyLBER-Xfavs-Kwx3mxWSdgPWQYfWFFzlLcFpWlAhf0PTpi6cELacqoHc_T5j_hT2CYnfl1J0kMV" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="175px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Brian Miller, he of the Deathbomb Arc label and many of its bands, is like some sort of art-chewing music-spewing man-machine. Not everything that comes out of this goose is gold, but ya gotta give him credit for working that ass. Rose For Bohdan is his "rock" group, meaning they sound like a bunch of art kids invading a Guitar Center, plugging everything in, and having a cross-store jam (well, this is something I've always wanted to do, but still). The electronics on here use some of the worst sounds you could possibly find on a synthesizer, but that may be the intention. The bass rides a sort of clean-tone/sloppy-math thing with occasional forays into amped-out feedback, while Miller's panicked vocals recall legions of West Coast screamo dudes, but it's tempered with some humor, as they don't seem to take things too seriously. There are songs here though. The first track, "Friends Forever," (an ode to the van-rockers?) constantly breaks down and jerks around, even quoting "Love Will Tear Us Apart" for no apparent reason. That's pretty much indicative of the whole record. Lots of engaging and even catchy parts followed by another part that doesn't make "sense" and is sometimes incredibly dumb. But sometimes those parts of kind of rad, even if they're fleeting. Total ADD Destruction. (Deathbomb Arc // www.deathbombarc.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Roue' "Totally Fuckin Totally" 10" EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In this man's (not-so-humble) opinion, Roue' (basically French for Bastard or Rapscallion, or something to that effect) are the best band from Cleveland, OH, and have been for several years now. Their debut album, "The Upward Heroic Motive", while having some production issues, was a beast of epic proportions. One major problem with that record was....no vinyl! They have addressed this issue by self-releasing this four song 10". It opens with the Unwound-esque "Some Future, Some Despair," then jumps into "Soft and Easy," which starts hard and punishing, slides into a moody bass groove, then brings it home with one of their poppier moments. On the flip, "Totally Fuckin Totally" features the kind of full-throttle dissonant guitar melodies that Sonic Youth wishes it could still pull off. The last track "Spirit and Opportunity," opens with two full minutes of stargazing guitar before bludgeoning you with blast beats and anguished screams of "I need more power/bring me the water." Get the man a whiskey instead. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(self-released // www.roue.org)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Stapler "Metaphysical Haircut" CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="200px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/IErQk_ybpI4JhnfD0GGHITGETWOXNNTdt2DEnk00WwzP3CY7pB0_QKKgPa5NOecv5TIIOXTnxF-lWui7-0HF4hXPuDq1hn6C8vOfaYtj4k-GGLBE-Hqx7rJEZt9Ts6M_qyriZ8Cm" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="200px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> One of the best labels going right now, Columbus Discount is bringing back the shit-fi sound of early 90s indie punk in glorious fashion. One look at The Stapler's album art and you know they love early Pavement and Guided By Voices and The Grifters and Archers of Loaf and Superchunk and probably The Fall, too. This is all fine by me. Am I nostalgic for my younger years spent discovering these grimy but oh-so-delicious sounds? Probably. Is this retro? Maybe. Am I being too rhetorical? Definitely. This record is good. It kinda peaks with the first two songs, particularly "Subway Tunnel Charm Bracelet," which uses a keening violin to excellent effect. Sounds like they kidnapped a music student from OSU, fed him some Drixoral Cough and Congestion gel-tabs and told him, "Play this, and if you play it 'right,' we will kick the shit out of you." "The Calvary Lasers" is like hearing a classic Superchunk cut through layers of silt and garbage. "Temple of Fortuna, Part Three" throws down some sloppy punk angst that sounds like maybe they've been paying attention to fellow Cowtowners, The Feelers. But really, it's just an expression of the eternal FUCK EVERYTHING vibe of the best mid-Ohio bands, from Gaunt to Monster Truck Five to some band on Burnt Sienna that no one's ever heard. The album was recorded by Jared from Times New Viking and it has that 'as heard by the upstairs neighbor from a basement two floors below' feel to it, which is just fine; occasionally what might be some sweet riffs get a bit lost in the hiss and in-the-redness, but that's the trade-off you make for being real. I like haphazard pop music made by drug addicts (see fellow townsfolk Psychedelic Horseshit). If you do too, then get this limited to 500 CD. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Columbus Discount // </span><a href="http://www.columbusdiscountrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.columbusdiscountrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="153px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/DoURG8W4RWY5aVYMq8DhLIN3ey1kS0KcofAU67LZPJCih8LmBsrbLxBNFo_Fkmr8iYN07J6eLq-FaYDMRxNTNDzghB6YGh6SRd6qSFqh7LHhLVzx4FxhG9e3Jm7DBOLpR2rY379l" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> More Columbo musings via our pals, Columbus Discount, and, woah!, what do we have here? Anyway Records split-release?! That's right, Columbus' premier indie label from the 90s, purveyors of all things cracked and lo-fi, co-releases this extended EP. But be warned: This is not your older brother's Anyway band; Terribly Empty Pockets are super-polished pop-rock. They recall literate 80s New Zealand pop like The Verlaines, The Chills, and The Bats, but there's a certain X-Factor missing that made the best work by those bands timeless. "Good for what it is," but I can't see many TB readers jumping out of their socks for this one. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Anyway Records // www.anyway-records.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Columbus Discount // </span><a href="http://www.columbusdiscountrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.columbusdiscountrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Vampire Can't "Key Cutter"LP/CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Vampire Can't is Vampire Belt, Chris Corsano and Bill Nace's two man drums/guitar/electronics wrecking machine, and Jessica Rylan's solo noise joint, Can't, combining forces for maximum destruction. The two Vampire Belt homemade CDRs were two of the better "organic noise" (what I like to call noise that is made using actual instruments) releases of the past couple years. Now, to be completely honest, I would listen to anything Chris Corsano did, including a field recording of him taking a shit on the White House lawn or even in your grandmother's backyard, so, there's that. He is surely one of the most inventive and powerful drummers currently walking this earth. Kind of funny then how much of this album reminds me of Mindflayer, Brian Chippendale's (from Lightning Bolt) noisy-ass drum/tronics project with Matt Brinkman. There's not much to distinguish between tracks here, as most are just balls-out (apologies to Jessica) noise-meltdowns with Corsano flailing away in the background. Not bad, but nothing really sticks in the craw. The last track, "No Strings," stretches the proceedings out to better effect, but it's too little too late. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Load Records // </span><a href="http://www.loadrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.loadrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="175px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Nbx2L1T6UAeoXWHSLdyge8E_TXSGBAfUIfwMo8bw42av2kGjt0DYIY8N1miQWZmLYnvVLKH1qtojDOHVCYUpiXjDUUOGIWp12OBTM-9RD7VjU6TVxaOwq_WSgxWrTwBfx0qlowOy" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="175px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> The last few years has seen Toronto's fertile hardcore punk scene rise to international recognition, but there is more going on in that city than young kids channeling the speed and rage of early 80s US HC. Take The Creeping Nobodies, for instance. The name is a Fall reference, but their number one influence is the long-running, genre-bending punk of Holland's The Ex. With two LPs, a few EPs (including last year's excellent Half Saboteur 12"), and several lengthy North American tours to their credit, Creeping Nobodies are steadily building a rep as makers of quality records and an intense live act. Their side on this 12" features two extended songs that work like mantras with dueling male/female vocals, rattling chains, alternately chiming/slashing guitars and rumbling drums. Not their best stuff, but very worthy regardless. On the flip, the unknown (to these ears) Anagram impresses with two tracks of menacing post-punk that recalls early UK coldbringers like Killing Joke and Zounds. Not too far removed from France's Frustration and just as good. "Mt. St. Capt. Doom" throws some subtle squawky sax in amidst the pulsing bass and monotone vocals. "Manic Indulgence" is even better, lumbering along like a death train intent on delivering its cargo. All aboard! </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="200px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-ySaddi54lIW3doYiIpKZb99x7gynNMcT-C-hF_X1TkYbBDneN7bifMFLoh-t5Qt7KBGyZny9KGk_eUO7rTvaR1eu_vYzDeRWHhl1LjDioEJ6-GQIMydOpoIaGlKrNAo0l2Mh9UX" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="200px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Yeah, I wish it was that Kevin Shields, too, but it's not, it's some chick and the tireless Mr. Miller making some noise for 5 to ten minutes at a time. This DVD documents a West Coast tour of what looks like boring art spaces, which, un/fortunately, are the only kind of places you can get away with stuff like this. Give Miller some credit, though. His two main schticks at these performances are vaguely interesting. First, and best, is his "amp-as-instrument" tactic, which involves him slamming his two (assuming tube) amps together and throwing them around the room. This yields some cool sounds and keeps things visually stimulating. The other is him running around the room with a roll of duct tape and creating loops of stickiness to draw the audience in. Probably kinda fun if you're there. And this brings me to the real meat of the matter. Our world is becoming over-documented. Between the Internet and cheap methods of producing Artyfacts, we are destroying any notion of Time, Place, Moment, Present. You damn kids are taking this too far. When you document something that is purely meant to be "about the moment," you destroy what is inherently interesting about it. Instead of, "Yeah, I went to this noise show and this guy did [blank] and then he [blanked!]. It was fuckin nuts, dude!" Instead it becomes, "I went to this noise show. It was pretty cool. Hey, I'll send you a YouTube link and you can see what you missed." Maybe I am a cranky bastard, but we are all dying quicker then we'd like to think and I want to cling to the memories, embellished or not, and not have my life and what I may or may not have witnessed playing on some screen like a fucking Hollywood movie. Take back the means of production and dump them into the river. Do you think God watches YouTube? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">V/A "7" Up!" CD/LP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="201px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/cUnKCblqyyZW6f-mPPxcRTyjL40vPPZxHYfI21MReT1wnExckzgOG2tN2R8b0_YELt8Fw22FtjUzX36SyHWMuWr3DObTBOlKCV_V55-mh6T-lVZu3ekLc1tiFeXoyvDJ3b99rTGt" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="202px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Last year, England's fantasticly-named Crippled Dick Hot Wax! label brought us a CD collection of (ex-Pop Group/Glaxo Babies) Maximum Joy's out-of-print vinyl output, now they present us with further diggings of the UK's once-vibrant post-punk scene. This comp covers similar territory as Hyped2Death's Messthetics series, and even though it is not quite as essential, it is still a worthy endeavor and a good purchase if the sound of disaffected Limey youth 25 years gone by is something that tickles your crippled dick fancy. Glaxo Babies' "This is Your Life," while not as innovative as their Nine Months to the Disco album (CDHW! please reissue this!), is still weird enough to please. Contact's "Constant Beat" is even better, with a great chorus only an art student from Manchester could come up with, while I Jog & The Tracksuits recall Tronics with their fey, home-recorded oddity, "Redbox." Gerry and The Holograms continues the creepy weirdness with their theme song, sounding not unlike Danny and The Dressmakers. Side 2 opens with They Must Be Russians' snarky STD-educational "Don't Try to Cure Yourself" (also on Instant Pop Classics). It's followed by Ireland's Moondogs, who, according to the informative liner notes, had both Ray Davies and Todd Rundgren slated to produce them plus their own Monkees-like TV show, Moondogs Matinee. Their track, "Imposter," is great power-pop as good as anything by The Undertones. Thomas Leer sounds like Howard Devoto covering Another Green World, Cult Figures get goofy and sarcastic like Black Randy and The Metrosquad, and Henry Badowksi is like a synth-driven Television Personalities on domestic ode "Making Love WIth My Wife." I think I just talked myself into loving this comp, and maybe you should too. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Crippled Dick Hot Wax! // </span><a href="http://www.crippled.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.crippled.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Black Lips/Demon's Claws 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Part of Norton's ongoing Rolling Stones cover series (packaged in loving facsimiles of the original London sleeves), Black Lips turn in what sounds like a tossed-off version of "What To Do" (from the UK press of Aftermath). It ambles along alright, but I would have killed for their take on, say, "Stupid Girl." Demon's Claws, on the other hand, nail the slurred Irish ambiance of Beggar's Banquet's "Factory Girl." Unless you are collecting the whole series, I wouldn't say this is entirely necessary, but if you're a fan of either or both bands, it might be worth the five bucks. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Norton // </span><a href="http://www.nortonrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.nortonrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Black Time/Husbands 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="152px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/bypS7otVvMs2tGnd0dl8Ar-9Gf7-9m-BX1g7V2owsHDZyh4wVccJXp-G1d6fzYgQemecEQx5AvUq51UYecVDwFQKr07o2RkWlQCI6C9c4e1TbH50D_PQ2L4vY1YSh6QV1HajiIy8" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> So maybe Midnight World wasn't the ass-kicking world-beating noir-spiked punk rock thrill-ride you were hoping for, but it wasn't exactly dog-shit that you accidentally stepped in on your way to Starbucks neither (you fucking yuppie you). Black Time had been running through those alleys at a hectic pace and maybe they needed to run into a wall (and break a hand or two). A little distance did them good and their side of this West Coast (you fucking hippies you) tour-only (not really though, I got this at a store) seven-incher reminds you why you fell in love with these post-Riot modsters in the first place. "Downtown" is a bouncy urban rant with the whiny voice of Limey Caution reverbin over some almost psych-key action. Nice. "ESP Medium" is an instro the way they used to make 'em, drillin the beat but still catchy. "Charm Offensive" alternates its trad-garage verses with fast punk choruses. Husbands have always struck me as a novelty band, and their side doesn't dispel such thoughts. The Cramps-lite "Monster Party" was recorded live on WFMU which is.....fine. I don't think I need another cover of "I Idolize You," but if you do, well, here 'tis. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Show and Tell // www.myspace.com/showandtellrecordings)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="162px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/ZoPr-rgQZBTA1Q3xof4_ritd6tAlhSXYRoesRLQuxQJ7BTJUBsK1L9VlG7wFQ4f8rc5RJ4kH5XHzjB0tshPzR522B2zXO4xYMA7TvvtL5RZtFqbLVXsf_6zjSO4jfVNTwq0ZaOo3" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="162px;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Bossy/Dirty Looks 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Two NYC bands featuring ex-members of Bent Outta Shape, a band I've never heard, but I see their name here and there, so maybe you have. Live, Bossy come off like the sort of decent indie-punk band that populated the underground landscape during the heyday of '90s indie rock. On record, they display some major K Records damage, the deadpan (female) vocals directly recalling Calvin Johnson, but they ain't quite (Beat) happening yet. Dirty Looks kick up a little more dust on their two cuts, but even the youthful enthusiasm of "Work in Progress" is not enough to save this slice o' wax. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Salinas // www.unshadowed.com/salinas)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Times New Viking/Psychedelic Horseshit 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/Fa5t_wMwmqpMNytb68epj11DaqrR74tkHqBAMe3bRGyUTvM8GcLSQZH5cELkj2M7nn2oX2Rd4TZTbB8JKl7ExoIUFnVArvpQRAqAz5hoPyvBBUNp3JyaX6o4u1TujerMKoK3fNQl" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> This split sucka by two of the current leaders of the lo-fi resurgence was pressed in honor of their short East Coast tour a few months back. Both sides are 33 rpm, so there's a nice chunk of music to chew on. On TNV's side, "Lover's Lane," which was recorded back in '04, hits the same noisy goodness as their Dig Yourself LP. "Common Cold" is a short hint at something bigger a la' Guided By Voices, and the newest of these songs, "Bad Looks," continues the winning streak.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The strange, garbled "modern folk" stylings of Psychedelic Horseshit sound like Bob Dylan tuning into a Fall-dominated John Peel radio show via shortwave radio. They even namecheck ol' Zimmerman on "No Soul 2" shortly after the graceful couplet of "I wanna fuck/and take a ton of drugs." Falling apart at the seams, these acid casualties are the sort of rejects you should be looking to for answers to life's mysteries. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Trashies/Hunchback 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cross-country lovefest on this puppy. Trashies from Seattle give us a quick Devo-gone-hardcore sumpin sumpin called "Mongo Retardo" and then do a decent cover of "Sooprize Package for Mr. Mineo." Stab a motherfucker in the (hunch)back. Straight outta the Pine Barrens, New Jersey devils Hunchback lay down an organ-driven workingman's lament called "Sixteen Tons." They follow the format with a good but kinda puzzling cover of "Too Drunk to Fuck." We would've preferred their dirgy version of "Heart of Gold," but this'll do. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Freedom School // </span><a href="http://www.myspace.com/freedomschoolrecords" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.myspace.com/freedomschoolrecords</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="125px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/jANGo7uWpWnKOaVtrSa7VOwoZoVezBgU-mj55ELSqKaFyfDvTbiTIeikTS-UcmwdRcaZ4cLpgrpOaj7nUDfiualFkOkXcoghBwIuIYiqTlogsnGCU4-fm2PBzoJh7mYgwtp3TrJ4" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="125px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> From the Deep Dirty Souf comes the molasses-and-cough-syrup spludge of Wizzard Sleeve. "Chrome Intensifier" conjures nasty thoughts of A Frames covering "Hamburger Lady" on a silt-barge. Hypnotic bass dirge meets clattering drum machine and moaning far-off vocals like some sort of chopped n' screwed version of punk rock. Get 'em to Houston, gather up some codeine, set up a sesh with the ghost of DJ Screw, and let's hear a new sort of "crossover." LiveFastDie are a bunch of poofs from the tri-state area who go by silly nicknames like Faghag, Bedshittalker, and Braygay. Oh yeah, cant forget Gozac Termbo. But they make some tasty punk, well, at least one of them does (think it's Faghag, but I can't keep it straight). "Armageddon" seems to be yet another song in the LFD canon about getting hammered past the point of no return, while "Pizza and Vomit" is a nausea-inducing bassy/tweaked vox number that almost lives up to their side of the cover art. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="169px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/TGCiW4ZBBP_eQCOqRiaQo45oxOiGjbs20E-4rAkVx5kHgssKAuefi_gX2USJ2R21c41eDIHvIAjuf4P1FuM91O8y_hihdQSbUmuujpOs4t9PqY6XK0xy0MLdSrdB2MKsZJVqfL-u" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Who is this masked man? Dunno, but who cares when he (and she?) are making such discombobulating sounds. Maybe Mr. Blank Dog is trying to teach us a lesson about our society's cult of personality. Maybe this person is a known quantity in our little underground circle-jerk niche. Maybe it's fucking Thurston Moore fer chrissakes. Taking both conceptual and musical cues from the original mystery group, The Residents, Blank Dogs are making the big come-up awfully fast, but it's well deserved. If you're familiar with any of the recent reissues of early "minimalist" synth-punk then these sounds will be treasure to your ears. Particularly the retarded synth freak-out at the end of Side One's "Surveillance Man." So retarded that The Spits are are sleepless in Seattle with jealousy. I like Side Two even more. "Ambulance" steals a guitar riff from some classic punk song that....I can't....quite...name. Yes, it's driving me crazy. "Dismorphobia" (fear of being ugly + early 70s hard rock ref?) is the real hit on this platter. Hell, I heard my roommate singing along to it the other day. Great nervous bass line and strangely haunting vocals plus the catchiest melodies on any of these songs. Here it is, kids, all your agoraphobic dreams cum true: Fad Gadget on a budget, lost tracks that should be on I Hate The Pop Group, Ralph Records, what the fuck did ever happen to Vileness Fats? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Blanks Dogs "Yellow Mice Sleep" 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Spankin new 45 by our mysterious friend, and it's even better than the 12. "Yellow Mice Sleep" betrays its creator's fond feelings towards My Bloody Valentine and Jesus and Mary Chain with its dreamy melody and thick, soupy guitar-bed. "Housefly" quivers and disturbs, while "Smashed Up People" is Mr. Blank Dog's best song yet, stuffing a catchy chorus into what sounds like a demo version of a Chairs Missing cut. Better jump on board, there's another 12" comin down the pipe! Scum Stats: 100 yellow vinyl (sold out?), 400 black.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Hozac Records // www.myspace.com/horizontalaction)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Car Commercials "Jar" 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="200px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/Hnfb8bSmp85BJA7oifIcrXOFYU5veAlmQ05hvDP1wc6nBU1c34fNgCpgXLG8VmuEj4jsvgBmzy_b8GYwzyOzzGohAVgn4BkGLP_svjyOC04xLNb9rkCLz8BSrjBzLCH_AS-tft2h" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="200px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Not only sporting one of the best band names currently going, Car Commercials also features one Daniel Dimaggio, he of Princeton, NJ's manic pop thrill, Home Blitz. Dunno if you'd call this a "side project," but CC trade in a different sort of damage. Mostly this reminds me of the fractured bedroom musings of early Sebadoh recs like Weed Forestin' and The Freed Man, complete with tape fuckery and other messings around. Admittedly, there's nothing here on the catchiness level of "Little Man" or "Punch in the Nose," nor is there quite the late-night creep factor of their cassette release, but I can say with some confidence that none of these "songs" will end up on a Subaru ad. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Leaf Leaf // </span><a href="http://www.geocities.com/leafleafrecords" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.geocities.com/leafleafrecords</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="125px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/oYPk1bNJQ50Aa7NwSjAZZ03lisUoet3o0qv-ofuI-aSgjkM_iM04j6kmRSsP19guRRyZRfr8QoJBCgKXT_Npkzgn-NRjieZb4t1-cmRjoRIIq2T_7iQXAX5YjjwhBzC_F6Vvgcd3" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="125px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I know a dude who hates the Cheater Slicks. He says it's cuz they don't tune. All I can say to that is, "Shove the 12-tone system up your ass, throw out your copy of Psychocandy, and lick my hairy anal fissure." My God, what is wrong with people these days? The Slicks could give a fuck about tuning, and I could give a fuck about their not giving a fuck, cuz, well, they don't give a fuck about nothin (see opening cut "My Position on Nothingness"), and nobody seems to give a fuck about them (except for rabid thousand-strong fan base), so, fuck everything, OK? What's their to say, really? Yeah, it's lovely out. Fuckin great. Lemme pop a boner. I got a nice day boner and nowhere to stick it. NOwhere. Permanent state of existence for these folks. Maybe they're married, maybe they're record store clerks, maybe they're gravediggers. Maybe they'll buy you a shot of Whiskey at the watering hole, but they'll probably just save their money for another shot for them cuz Fuck You, right? "Run Run Run" and "Crackin Up" are the garage punk unknown classics on here, and they makes me real goddamn happy. This record makes me fucking happy, OK? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Dead Canary//</span><a href="http://www.deadcanaryrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.deadcanaryrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cheveu "My Answer is Yes!" 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="125px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/RnCxoi_RcPGzMjmCMbvUT3fyvlBuEgjGdhPdPcdMvW8nUvXq3wEPfq-GBtipy5m02f_jXxQyLuXG9xY4Y5Bjg-KVT4X8Xlxqkkpqef3Ambd6MHVsEMdT_h0PUqDe0AI2GfMWx-Cv" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="125px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Ahh, Cheveu, the only French Glue-Wave (thank Killings or Boyd for that one) band to have brought their huffy taint to the dirty American masses. And we thank you for it, you fucking slimey hair-farmers. "My Answer is..." sounds kinda threatening, what with David pulling his "I just smoked a joint laced with PCP" vocal excoriations. Flip it over and you get the wacky, light-side-of-the-force style that reminds so much of Trio and also really makes you wanna to go out and ogle girls, cuz I think that's what it's pretty much about. Comment vous dites "pussyhound" en Francais? </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">El Jesus De Magnifico "Funeral Home Session" EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Haven't hear these guys' full-length, but I am digging this 33 1/3 rpm 7" EP. Slurred musings sounding not unlike Royal Trux trying out a Joy Division cover. The spaced-out vocals hover above and around the meandering playing, but it has a sort of hallucinatory quality. A bit aimless, but I used to live in a converted funeral home in Columbus, so I can identify where these dudes are coming from.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Columbus Discount // </span><a href="http://www.columbusdiscountrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.columbusdiscountrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Grinderman s/t CD/LP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="144px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/okTZe3ezR2dwbmHx58uRQKdlNhDby02xhbY0rwKlRphMdnaO7qeeWr4a6JhQyoOGbUkQWXL2oC1lsY71EG2JZc0RIJUFZreCNTb2na8o6gMNX3zHyrvpyd9ES6Quz85G1lirtlSx" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="144px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Nicky, baby! Can I get a "Hell yeah!"? HELL YEAH. This is what I'm talkin' 'bout. All respect to your Leonard Cohen fantasies, Mr. Cave, but this is what the public wants. Grinderman is basically a slimmed-down Bad Seeds getting back to their roots. It's the most raucous thing they've done since Tender Prey, if not their debut, the classic From Her to Eternity. I guess there are some moments on Murder Ballads that go for the throat, but there is also a lot of superfluous bullshit on that one and this monkey skips all that. Newest addition, violinist Warren Ellis (of Dirty Three), shoves everything over the top with all manner of awesome wah-wah'ed, distorted, and delayed sawing. His textures replace the departed Blixa Bargeld's six-string molesting, and, look at this, Nick picks up a guitar and starts rockin'! Mid-life crisis never sounded so good! Who needs a Ferrari? Believe it or not, even in The Birthday Party, Cave wrote all his songs on piano, but he stops the ivory-tickling for just a sec and we like it. You've also got Jim Sclavunos on drums and that guy was in Teenage Jesus and The Jerks (when he was an actual teenager) and you can't get much cooler than that (Lydia Lunch took his fuckin virginity, ferchrissakes!). This album isn't amazing, but it is damn good, and it's nice to hear that even a debonair international man of mystery like Nick Cave has problems getting laid (the hilarious "No Pussy Blues"). "Depth Charge Ethel" takes the heavy-organ pseudo-gospel stylings of that double LP that came out a couple years ago, but strips it down so even the heathens will like it. He even sounds like he's singing with a sneer again. Recommended to all die-hard and fairweather Cave fans. The rest of you.......there's a Birthday Party record with your name on it, waiting for you, grinning seductively. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Mute/Anti // </span><a href="http://www.anti.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.anti.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Hunt "One Thousand Nights" 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Pretty sure this band's from NYC, but they probably wish they were from Manchester, or maybe Leeds. Lots of early Cure worship on here, but, oddly enough, the singer's voice recalls a newer UK import: the dude from Bloc Party. Side A, "One Thousand Nights," drags on far too long and sounds a bit iron-deficient. The flip has a little more oomph and throws in some possible Killing Joke influence, but it still won't get these guys on the cover of Melody Maker (yes, I know it's defunct). </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Monster Squad // </span><a href="http://www.monstersquadnyc.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.monstersquadnyc.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="293px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/W8guAP-0gOJpPwd4s0pWg50gS9LrLbp05NDTAoKd7TYOIJbDWfFPM9aQOdnio7_muAe59Cb43A_naQwlocUCfR1gZgxw_LH6tnzE--WnWJyljzsgnESo5heeX9Gbdh2QmTiPR4hF" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="293px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Whether from the seedy streets of Gay Paris or the hairy backwoods of Northern California, Sacto's S-S Records is not afraid to venture far and wide for new strains of outsider punk music. Their newest discoveries hail from Monterrey, Mexico, not exactly a known hotbed of Weird Punk. There's some interesting junk on this LP, but, truthfully, much of it seems unfinished. I like things raw, but a few more stabs at some of these songs could've benefited the group. Maybe it's the lo-fi production on here, but a a lot of this stuff sounds like Times New Viking, which is kind of funny, but not really so crazy. Cycles, yo. I like when they layer noisy guitar and keyboard swirls as on "Lies." "The Discovery" is almost thuggish, but in a playful way. "I Welcome Tomorrow" has a great all-encompassing organ drone while some dude mumbles and screams in the background. "Je Sois" (can't escape them Frenchies!) could easily fit on one of those Sonic Youth SYR dillies; it sounds exactly like some breathy, sketchy Kim Gordon piece. The rest of side 2 drifts off in a haze of noise hovering over rudimentary drums and indecipherable vocals. Hopefully they keep it together for round two, cuz that one could be a doozy. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Necropolis "Stumpf" EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Wow, this is quite a departure from their excellent, decidedly "pro" sounding LP. This 7" was recorded on 4-track at their practice spot and it sounds great! "Stumpf" is a an aggressive garage-punker with drunken vocals and screaming leads flying all over the place. "Van v. Art" steps back into the more post-punk sound they do, but is just as aggro and noisy as the A. I like when bands show us all their schizophrenic moods. Ace.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Columbus Discount // www.columbusdiscountrecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Night of Pleasure "Godard vs.Truffaut" EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Total Albini-damage here, especially in the wire-cutter guitar sound. But the songs veer into classic punk territory, off-setting the scrape n' clang. "Caesar's Palace" sounds like early Gaunt, but even noisier. "Bitch Pitch" has a New Bomb Turks vibe, but filtered through a decade of pig-fuckery. Actually, it all comes up smelliing like Monster Truck Five, which is as close to roses as you can get in Cowtown. Real classic C-bus shit here. Cool swirly black vinyl too.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Columbus Discount // </span><a href="http://www.columbusdiscountrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.columbusdiscountrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Ponys "Turn The Lights Out" LP/CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/lQmA0hes0dfv1DYE2oLSQ8NcBYUObs42Jo1uslqOVju3j7kQ4GF7zgcuYAWSzTkO-kLnWdSe9z9cL1eeZeP2r65d0R5YqEbl5tAxGfD5pgW_XOofJ618bzqR611O_7-zXo3SYppz" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Can't help but wonder if the title is a reference to Interpol's college-chart-busting Turn On The Bright Lights, which was also on Matador. Cheeky bastards, these Ponys. Now, the obvious joke would be, "What's the diff between these gay indie bands anyway?" Hardee har. Yes, The Ponys sure are sounding more "indie" these days, but that's apropos of nothing, really. Although I could see the first cut, "Double Vision," maybe burnin up a chart or two. It's similar to Celebration Castle's "Glass Conversation," with its deep reverb stabs and hooky chorus. The rest of the LP follows suit, walking the middleground between Laced With Romance and Castle. I think Romance is a classic and I think Castle could've made a great EP, instead of an OK LP. This one continues the streak. They head back into noisy, reverb-drenched waters on some of these cuts, but you've also got some sluggish, boring tracks like "Shine" and "Kingdom of Hearts." "Poser Psychotic" sounds like current Sonic Youth. Nothing on here surprises like "She's Broken" and damn I miss Ian's songs, they added another shade and kept everything from sounding so rote. Hate to say it, Ponys, but I don't wanna fuck you no more. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Matador // </span><a href="http://www.matadorrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.matadorrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">SIDS "+/-" 7"EP + DVD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="125px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/fspKf2OvxuKlYkxN7Ej-ZicDmQKapYxxCqJ6USnvHqZVBylglldl2NX_X5tE-t8jkHtG5_tVNu7R7oKUyyBks67verQKqyAC_5SwV98tUreiw6q91KTwpxyVBznR4NOto8ezY6pO" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="125px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Let's start with the packaging: Absolutely stunning. Cut-out cover revealing not one, but TWO layers of etched vellum-like paper adorned with all manner of skulls, flowers, and band members. Honestly, this thing looks it should have come out on ThreeOneG and had the name Get Hustle or Love Life on it. (This is not an insult, by the way.) Instead, you get Hotlanta's Sudden Infant Death Syndrome bashing their way through a mini-album's worth of songs. First cut, "+/- (Swastika Heart)," is the winner, all frantic synth blurts and manic, Hot Rod Toddy vocals. "Acid One" is the funHouse jam, tripping you out with the mirrors bending your head this way and that. Other side has a lock-groove in the middle of the record which is pretty fucking cool if totally fucking annoying. There's some kinda repeating blown-out madness happening that I'll let you try to wrap around yr head. Bonus: Comes with DVD-R of the 7" tracks plus photos n' shit. Another quality release from Rob's House.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Times New Viking "Presents the Paisley Reich" 12"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="173px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/bVv9SyfRcJit0yZWzR26FlHycLOpQ3SnGSQN9PgcV9F0QV7AKp5kS8iUH8iL958oK6IF1nCX1mMTG3tWTxsI1EvUjviyIjdNh-Ud88rQzb1_SAVr3dOc0kCO1InSztBeLOfHPpEm" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="169px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Now that Times New Viking has made the jump to mega-indie Matador, let's evaluate their brief but shining career, shall we? Their debut, Dig Yourself, was a sleeper hit just a year-plus ago. One of those "you gotta hear this" records you play for all your friends until they see the light and love it just as much as you do. Well, it was for me at least. Last record I can remember being that pushy with was The Ponys' Laced With Romance. Before I moved to The Big Apple, I tried my damndest to turn all of the North Coast onto that sucker. Thank you and you're welcome. Soon after, seems the whole world was feeling the vibe as indie rockers, punks, noise freaks, and even hardcore kids were joining hands in solidarity with the blissed-out basement punk of TNV. Gerard Cosloy must've gotten a whiff cuz now they're "big time." Bout fuckin time Matador signed a band that references what made them in the first place. Enough of the goddamn Adult Contemporary shit, folks!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">OK, so the credit really lays on the brow of Tom Lax, who brought back his defunct/classic label Siltbreeze just to put out this band's records (and now Siltbreeze is the toast of the town again). They say pop culture moves in cycles. Sometimes "they" are right. So, how's the new mini-LP (nice lyrical etchings on the flip)? No huge strides are being made, and that's OK with me and probably you, too. Some have implied that this one's better than Dig Yourself, but I don't really buy that. It's more like a continuation. Same perfect, fuzzy production style, same real good, catchy songs, same great boy/girl vocals singing witty lyrics about small town doings and big escapist dreams. Bottom line: You like this band? You like this record. We'll see what happens next. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">White Savage s/t 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/Soi06guzEQHqSYFYW2YeIUCzzLF7Pnzgo9MUZKYjVsP3P3GEm71Ej0WWpzUVQ79lFN1CuzXSEGsiHdZDqg3nhIWYgEY3pJVgcwlg8Nx-nzcPwblnNpXbWFsHyv88xB8honbQKev4" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Quite the pedigree on this beast: Hollywood from Tyrades, Jered from Ponys, Colin from Screaming Yellow Zonkers (lawsuit pending), some dude from Chin Up Chin Up, even a guy from post-rockers, Euphone. None of this really matters though when you put the needle on the record. "Destroy Your Style" is blistering tribal-punk intent on ruining your day, but it won't; unless you have shitty taste in music. You could dance to this mess of animal howling, trumpet bleats, and rolling drums, no prob. The flip has one those Tyrade-style covers where they would essentially turn a cover into their own song. I really dig that song-as-launching-pad formula, and here White Savage picks Teenage Jesus and The Jerks' classic "Orphans" (which originally was a kind of tribute to Yoko Ono's "Don't Worry Kyoto, Mommy's Only Looking For Her Hand in The Snow"). With its disco bass line, angular guitars, dive-bombing electronics, and paranoid vocals, White Savage is actually sounding a lot like early Liars, which is not a bad thing to me, and shouldn't be to you either. One complaint: This sucker seems like it could have been mastered a little louder. Other than that: Best super-group since Traveling Wilburys. Scum stats: 100 "fur sleeve edition." 400 "savage black." </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Hozac Records// </span><a href="http://www.myspace.com/horizontalaction" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.myspace.com/horizontalaction</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="122px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/aduiChWyGvdUJhTA0tGLWQGIXWPLJDOpm3Qi7ORBTUJc79L0GRe3VjhJHq7mjRvy-sUz1NtRY24Zo7OTCwGYGL39DTUhHhobuqkOIaEtQuB1zU8XcINEl8atQMt0vHYE25NjOEYf" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="120px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Saw these guys play a ripping show in a NJ basement that sounded like US Maple plundering a Black Flag fakebook. On a less immediate format, their well-played but fairly trad mathcore sounds more mannered and calculated (bad pun, I know). There are some razor-sharp riffs and rhythmic hairpin turns executed with panache and passion, yet, in this far-off world of 2007, it's gonna take some serious death-defying stunts to really impress. Vocals, of course, are an afterthought and remind you why the best of this style is usually instrumental. Wish there was something new here, but there ain't. Makes you wanna pull out the first Drive Like Jehu and hear it done right. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="80px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/emXxg9oxp9RZGwuLfFnuoXencN2b8X_lLJW6-eyQjyTIXs3BajCIpdSLqicKFz0ivNzziqBE5W3lUKlTMuKkRYEfUTMsiLE8FAutfr0uLD9xD2zsocuUvUEc5NKo8D1kV-tLiYAN" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="80px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> These kids are onto something. Previously wading in a No Wave-y pool, they have now set sail for the equator like an 18th-century Portuguese explorer. My only complaint about "Animal Ghosts," is that it's too damn short. They build up a storm of guitars and drums that comes to an abrupt halt just when you're sorting it all out. The B-side, "All Night and Day," sounds like a condensed version of the more rocked-out Animal Collective material. The reverbed/delayed guitar tones on this 45 sound like dew-drops from a rainforest. They call this "Tropical pop" and that is an apt description. Seriously makes you wanna crack open a coconut and a Corona, like one of those ubiquitous ads. They got sand in their joints and stars in their eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Post Present Medium/Mosher // </span><a href="http://www.postpresentmedium.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.postpresentmedium.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="125px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/v1glf7Xc0v1fub0xW_cwnYyQZ8HJ9sAI0zcQTmlUIKV0o0RN4N3PvesA7jvxzgVLsXsGSZyIPVoZv-eDBRi1nS8JV1nsfxzgnjzR6AVMxpGCXxyedxWplJYFIrlRZ2CWwEcCJ7bh" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="125px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Awesomely depressing Cakekitchen vibes on the side-long "By A Thread." Lowdown voice, like Ian Curtis from beyond the grave, or, hell, still-alive dudes like Roy Montgomery or a Jefferies brother. There is an undeniable connection to the fine tradition of New Zealand outsider/bedroom pop here. It manifests itself in the dirgey, yet somehow catchy and memorable, grinding guitar melodies and relentless forward motion of the drums. It all ends up sounding so far away, like your lover or dying mother gazing into the distance, but also so close, so intimate, like a cold hand on the back or a hot breath in the ear. "The Devil Always Wins" is the live hit staple. You clap along as Kevin sings the snot-encrusted "it only hurts when I lafff" lyrics. It's like a lost 'Anthology of American Folk Music' field recording, unearthed for these troubled times. "Down On Me" is the most-straightforward pop song yet by Pink Reason. It's comes on like a ray of sunlight peaking through the clouds, but ends up revealing itself as another bittersweet ode to life's gray moments, albeit with more "uplifting" melodies, a nice bridge, and fleeting moments of what might be hope. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Silver Daggers/Shearing Pinx split 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Silver Daggers are starting to wear out their welcome with their side of this split. One track is a passable cut, recorded live at The Smell, that is redeemed only by the pounding bass n' drums. The other cut is a tweaked-out practice space jam that reminds you of why hip-hop belongs in the street, or in the early 80s. These folks need to start writing some songs, or at least stop completely aping styles from the past. We still have some good will left, let's not blow it. Shearing Pinx, on the other hand, take some old styles (mainly early SY and G. Branca bands like Theoretical Girls) and make them sound fresh as a bar of Irish Spring. Their guitar sound alone scores big points, but this bass-less trio manages to craft interesting and somewhat hook-y sounds out of their No Wave slash n' burn. They have a bevy or releases, so maybe start somewhere else, eh? Scum stats: Limited to 400.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Arbor // www.arborcdr.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We March 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="200px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/N2hZTIio4VD-ggXwQKk7Y34RweriAnlB6IK8pDwuZlahUtMCoqzWeKNAG-EKKcrro0O-RM8nKT8QK2Y8VLJwRw7j_J-IOASeZWJOGTYtV2brjuhAhvvt7Wa34wMa3p25lVYTc3E8" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="200px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Unbelievably, this is the first vinyl appearance by these broke-as-a-jokesters. Ridiculous, especially when you consider that We March is one of the rippingest, tearingest hardcore punk bands in the country. No, these guys do not satisfy your desire for textbook 80s HC, your taste for ironic bandana thrash, nor your OCD-complex need to pigeon-hole every riff and vocal sneer. If you must trainspot, then strap in tight, because you can check off a few decades' worth of small-town depression/hate with this band: Stooges, Negative Approach, Cows, Black Flag, Butthole Surfers, Necros, Saints, ah whofuckincares. The real point is: you need to see this band live. But if you can't, this EP'll hafta do ya. First side features two thrashers: "The Choice," and "Beep Beep Beep," which blazes by until the almost NYHC-esque mosh breakdown at the end. On the flip, "She Who Makes Dogs Shiver" is a dense, tough-as-nails rocker that bores a hole into your head. Rock n' roll made with an eye cast towards hardcore and vice-versa. Scum stats: Limited to 300 </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Wicked Singles // www.wickedsinglesrecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/RmT6XWFqWLRQoDpeTRQUFfsG8bsjRur23t0MjOPO5cZ66jQXrE44helzD-Qn5vVadBORfFn9tBduDST6DW7PsUZ0yRNj3MQ5SuSAgTz7IQOBsfQnSEw5LPBDf3W3HMfc_r2-PUoQ" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> The main objective for Michigan trio Little Claw seems to be hypnosis. 'Spit and Squalor...', their second LP, opens with a striking statement of this intent. "Hobo Baby Zeus" utilizes singer/guitarist Kilynn's multi-tracked stoned moan to invoke the gods of train-hopping and oil-barrel fires. Back that up with the fantastic "Movies For You," a dead-on replication of The Pin Group's late-night JD/VU strummathons, which actually puts it midway between the aforementioned Group and their later incarnation as Dadamah, Kilynn's voice echoing Kim Peiters' anguished wail. Except here, the mood is full of lust and fascination, whereas the New Zealanders were portraying the moment after said lust has been satiated, often with a lifetime of regrets to follow. "Brackish Stratum" brings it down to a Gories gutter-punch, while "Prickly Pear" steps into the junk-shop, rattling shit around and getting loose like a dime-store Tom Waits. "Polar Bear" closes out side one with more Dadamah-esque shudders. Side two is a bit of a come-down as its aimlessness isn't quite as bewitching as the first side. But "Shoplifting Cart pt. II" ends things on an approriately feverish note, sounding like a pagan ritual being performed in a Wal-Mart parking lot. 'Spit and Squalor Swallow The Snow' is a perfect record for rainy afternoons and wee-hour whiskey drunks. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Ecstatic Peace // www.ecstaticpeace.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="200px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/eSBuDKo7ikQhnR0l94Sdg_o3w9DvS3FNevZoS7PD2Kj1xyTLLOU8YS5CosuUL2BejkXmC5SXzltVYApNyugR6lzmqTHXJfffZMcYEcuHUmyoTnsY_Tu2EtAsqhxfL0SXJtJ-ZIYg" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="200px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Is there a more divisive figure in underground music than Steve Albini? Sure, he's not poking a finger in the public eye as much as in his heyday of the 80s and 90s, but he still wields a hefty amount of influence and his skinny-ass shadow still falls on much of the indie/punk world. You can usually find me on his side of the chain-link fence, ready to excuse whatever blanket statement he has most recently made, and, more importantly, championing his music, which, until recently, has been almost uniformly excellent. Which makes this new Shellac LP (their first in 7 years) so painful. '1000 Hurts' was a grower not a shower, but this slab doesn't compel many repeat listens. Sure, the packaging and artwork is typically luxurious, eye-popping, and bizarre, but who really cares when the music itself is so devoid of life? I really think that Albini and bassist/fellow engineer Bob Weston have become so adept at recording themselves that they can't hear how the ultra-meticulous techniques have rendered their music so hermetically-sealed that it exists in its own vacuum. And that's probably the way they want it. Shellac's "minimal" rock is actually quite unique, despite its superficial similarities to the endless cavalcade of math rock for the last 15 years.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Yet, divorced of all recording issue ephemera, the songs here do not deliver. They sound lazy. The long opening track, "The End of Radio," starts as a lesson in snare-drum recording, segues into a pointless fractured-narrative (what does it all mean? who cares) by Albini, and occasionally trots out some guitar amidst the repeating bass-chords. It goes on way too long (but not as long as that first song on 'Terraform') and when Albini starts shrieking "Can you hear me now?!" you can barely muster the brain-power to try to tell if he's being ironic, or just out-dated. Maybe someone told him he looks like the dipshit in those commercials. "Steady As She Goes" is an inferior rewrite of 'At Action Park's "A Minute," while "Be Prepared" starts out promising but winds up going nowhere. "Elephant" is a semi-catchy Weston-sung ditty that succeeds on its own modest terms. The meandering "Genuine Lullabelle" opens side two like the companion to "The End of Radio," but really only distinguishes itself via a brief appearance by Word Jazz master Ken Nordine, who could liven up even the dullest of parties. His voice is like butter melting on every nook and cranny of an English muffin. The rest of the side chugs along with a series of unimaginative rhythmic lock-downs. "Boycott" is passable, sounding like another 'Action Parl' outtake, and then, ironically, the last song finally brings some rambunctious energy with the frantic "Spoke." This record doesn't "suck," per se, it's just boring as goddamn hell. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Touch and Go // www.touchandgorecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A/V Murder 7" EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/AErOOie_4eR7WVEPpy_GWTXBCSH1JxTk7Gwq2oGrFhuv-s7Hqs_Ag9JAiCZGQZnfrQfo7LgxqvHLQAGGID0Hw4KMiySzpaEsAzsIDOx7CwfkC2CeOuR2l9tRAl2koYR6WyUt2_UV" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I might be the only person awaiting new White Savage material, but if this is what Jimmy Hollywood and other Chicago nervous eaters like Bill from Cococoma (hey, they’re still around, right?) are gonna dish us in the meantime, I, for one, am superfuckinghappy. Maybe exactly what you’d expect; intense jittery knife-edged punk much like Tyrades, with definite Jenna-like vocals, but as good as ever and it’s nice to hear this paranoid sound again. Somehow, it’s soothing. Like walking the streets in a really evil mood and the secret joy that comes with imagining killing everyone in devious ways and smiling to yourself. Or maybe that’s just me.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Dusty Medical // </span><a href="http://www.dustymedicalrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.dustymedicalrecords.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Bad Party "Coming Out Slowly" LP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="100px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/6rpz1hbDaqGBZrNLKwZ1-0s4wnU-fTlkkdnaWHlRWS4ClCBCH58NUwOgA_JZrw62pYwin6nxkXIB22jGKRiXAC7v3q6OXSSRHKE7qC8j0zND03GYR86Q7dw0n3meAwcYrhTwEOBe" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="100px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> What if Whitehouse were a dance band from Detroit? What if you were at a party where there were no girls, no booze, but mountains of cocaine? Heavy pondering, I know, but it would probably sound something like this duo (one guy used to be in Tamion 12-inch). The beats could hit a bit harder, but the fuzz bass keeps things grounded in rock, while the Bennett-esque vocals make you feel like you’re cornered by a cokehead at a curtains-drawn party in a bombed-out part of town. Yes, a Bad Party, indeed. Gimme the Thorazine, maan…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Animal Disguise // www.animaldisguise.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Jacuzzi Boys “Island Avenue” EP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">All love affairs must end, but I wouldn’t write off The Black Lips quite yet. They still got mad tricks and a couple handfuls of great songs up their sleevelesses, but if you are yearning and burning for some of that olde tyme flower-punk sound then you can do no better than Florida’s Jacuzzi Boys. Get past the icky name (brings up semen-laden hot tubs in this perv’s mind) and surrender to what sound like third eye/bardo garage jams of a decidedly mystic quality. And what do we owe this too? Multiple viewings of ‘Holy Mountain’ sippin on sizzurp? Crowley by way of Crypt? I’m babbling. Here’s the dope: “Island Ave” has a guitar line that seems to directly reference that Shadowy Men/Planet ‘Kids in the Hall’ theme and will burrow under your skin in one listen flat. “Dream Lion” is astral punk par excellance (a new genre everyday!). It sticks a lucid thumb in Carlos Castaneda’s eye and sounds like a long strange trip through a painted desert. “You Oughta Know” is the party jam and it rounds out one of the best 7”s of the year. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Hozac Records // </span><a href="http://www.horizontalaction.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.horizontalaction.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="100px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/iHIiK8GYrQQobD0g9SnEfasjiqjfy78l4gYk6GyHWwMjp7G0hXWSJwKyF8tmjVYoJux7vvVKdD9gxMP9y7QsvmjB19tqQf8mPoqQm2clFL0b4oQEr5y9Un8ceziH69wuTo8bsY95" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="98px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “Race to the Bottom” is a strum hard - ask questions later ditty with the urgent vocals driving it towards its conclusion. “Feeding You (Your New Home)” is the real winner here, creeping around in that junkyard rock thing they do with Kilynn’s vox sounding distinctly like Lydia Lunch’s circa “Honeymoon in Red" and it makes me wanna do some smack (with my hand!).</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Siltbreeze // www.siltbreeze.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="173px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/63EMH2QRIRoo3g7idwPND0dlFETsO5V_2_Z_qeEQChbaH4P3EOEhU5d8mkL7mKN8Wf7VqjtQrxNXtLESVi57nBlLuLRtUCP0pBffUxGojOfkJ-STUySG0fuhH1cWi9faYN0IF87l" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="200px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> The thing about Mayyors is they have this tremendous momentum, yet they also indulge in these time warp meltdowns that sound like an aural simulation of some hideous biochemical event. A perfect example is Side A, segueing from the get-ready head-churn of “Intro” into the propulsive punk of “Airplanes.” That bass sound KILLS and then it drops into a part that literally sounds like a plane taking off (almost like Silver Apples “You and I”) and then dive-bombs around some other in-flight emergencies. Time to join the Mile High Club. B-side “White Jeep” totally confirms my hunch that Mayyors sound a lot like prime Slug, ‘The Out Sound’-era, a fucking great record that needs to be sought out again and probably reissued on a lavish 2xLP set. I mean, I can practically hear Mayyors covering “Aurora f” and would not be surprised if they soon ventured into a noisy sort of dub, like a few cuts on that Slug rec and latter-day Terminal Cheesecake.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Short Rabbits "Dying By Inches" LP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="164px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/TpJrNPoGURKUkfVuGrjTvRsDlBF6NEbvCkFiBv2tfjZCj4Yzjh5QOoLf_KMIWp7BjVjcZQG8x3jFZ4KBXuIBP1N3rGOK-lsoIl7e1xHm-KEkAoi07tX5Yy0PmR11ELm99VJdkTOs" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Dark CLE punk like they used to do back in the bleak Reagan Eighties and all that fear and paranoia has come back around again as markets collapse and we’re scared of the skeletons next door. Makes sense as Short Rabbits are based and sung by Charlie Ditteuax, former 3-string bottom-dweller in seminal Clevo band, Easter Monkeys (still time to track down their lone LP, chump!). Easter Monkeys, along with bands like The Guns and Spike in Vain, embodied a drugged-out hero in the urban wasteland kind of ideal and Short Rabbits reconnect to that sound/idea. Nice to hear Buddy (former Neon King Kong/current This Moment in Black History) rip off some choice rock n’ roll licks on opener “Beat Seeker” while his wife pounds the skins like Ed Gein at a drum circle. You’ve got spacey alienation cuts (“Out of This World”) and sinister mood-Monkeys (“The Murder Room”) mixed up with classic hardcore punk (“R U Receiving Me?”). And that’s just side one. Side two features more desperation, but it ain’t all gloom and doom. “Little Insects” comes along just in time and will get you shaking some ass. Twenty-five years too late to be on ‘The New Hope’ comp, but just in time for Christmas. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(My Mind’s Eye // www.mymindseyerecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Sonic Chicken 4 “Midnight Girl” 7”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This is a no-brainer. Sonic Chicken 4 put out a mighty fine longplayer on In The Red last year, impressed everyone with their live show, and if that’s not enough, it’s on Rob’s House which is a sure-as-shit sign of quality. “Midnight Girl” has an almost Deadly Snakes-esque feel with a great rave-up in the middle. “Toe Man” could be a minute or so longer, but whatever, I’m actually more of a Neck Man.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Rob’s House // www.robshouserecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Strange Boys “Woe Is You and Me" 7”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">For some reason, I’d thought I’d hate this band, but this ain’t half-bad. The front sounds like a decent combo of Deadly Snakes/Black Lips, which isn’t the most ground-breaking thing right now, but they do it OK. I’d take the Midwestern grit of Goodnight Lovin’ over this, but you may prefer differently. You may also think you could never hear another version of “Baby Please Don’t Go,” and you may be onto something, but Strange Boys don’t embarrass themselves with it, unlike The Go doing “Gloria” at this show in Cleveland years ago. You may have thought it was impossible to fuck that song up, but, hey, you’d be wrong.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(In the Red Records // www.intheredrecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tyvek “Sidewalk” 7”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="170px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/6TyiyKkcGxqKo59vWR2pBv5nxECFejduyTWRhp2KmpCTNro1yDNwl2xjmsaAnqdeb3sDUk9fMLa4N5LTP9XXGkbO1ubzkH3VIfbJ9o4EdlrvjHCOED9CxHIPlsta5r1vMLXOrXVj" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I think this EP completes the slow process of getting all of Tyvek’s hit CDR ‘Fast Metabolism’ on wax. Which is great. But, honestly, a song like “Future Junk” has so much power, velocity, and presence live at this point that these versions are nice to have for documentations’ sakes, but makes ‘em almost disappointing to listen to. “Sidewalk” doesn’t suffer as much for this, sounding like a lost Desperate Bicycles track. Worth it, but it’s time for an LP already, gentlemen. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(M’Lady Records // myspace.com/mladysrecords)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Livefastdie/Lover! split 7”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="224px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/AGY_t8FjIe4csD5WB_V4gRTUIyMeFtqJJ64Jb1P98uYEemckN-iqm0xCErKrbRVjjaYKjKS5u71ZKmSf8T7wPlfUG9w--0l_Zawu_FVp8FtFIv4IWYtBmgc9x2k44wKizpJ7HJfU" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="225px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> I’m a little dumber for listening to this one, or at least my girlfriend probably thinks so. There’s really no decent way to defend my singing “I’ve got a booger in my asshole” all day long. But, I’ll hand it to Lover!, it wouldn’t be my refrain this afternoon if it wasn’t a really good, really catchy song. Full of fuzz-toned guitar, an impeccable melody, and first grade bathroom lyrics, this fires on all cylinders. On the flipside, Livefastdie compliment nicely with a good punker that keeps the theme alive.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(DH)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Sick of Shit as Shit” is yet another in a solid line of LFD songs with killer riffs that are just this side of ass-shaking. The sound is maybe a little less grimy, which makes the Garageband beats sound a lil’ too fake. Time for a full-band record? Lover! Is Rich Crook’s prolific one-man (in the studio at least) pop-psych-punk band, perhaps not uninspired by Camero Werewolf. Rich goes for a real groovy new wave sound on this one. If it wasn’t called “Booger in My Asshole,” I could actually picture this playing in a pivotal scene in ‘Valley Girl’ or at least ‘Mannequin’ or something. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Douchemaster Records // www.douchemasterrecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mutators/Shearing Pinx split LP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Simply put, Shearing Pinx are just a perfect noise-punk band. Taking their cues from early Sonic Youth (‘Confusion is Sex’-style), but upping the brutality factor along with a mingly/mangly mix of chaos and precision, they contribute a side-long piece of ravaged guitars that plays like No Wave jazz. Smack! Mutators are fellow agitators from new-ish (?) punk hotbed Vancouver BC, and their Scratch Acid/Jaks attack is a beautiful beast to behold. Coming off a bit more hardcore, yet also dirtier, than those bands, Mutators have a singer that sounds like she wants to claw your eyes out. Scratch that itch, baby. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Ugly Pop // myspace.com/catcall)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">V/A "Shiftless Decay" LP</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Maybe you thought the recent Detroit rock scene peaked years ago, when White Stripes were a genuinely exciting phenomenon and Dirtbombs were still new and laying down sick dance-floor jams between Tom Potter’s snarky remarks. Or maybe you veered more towards the damaged, genuinely dangerous sounds of Clone Defects and The Piranhas, easily two of the best punk bands in the country at the time. Well, I hope you never stopped paying attention, or at least started again. You’ve heard of Tyvek, right? This label called X! Records helped you out with that, and they’ve also released some great records by Frustrations, Fontana, and Terrible Twos among others. Now they’ve got a nice scene comp, the way they used to make ‘em. And shit is quality. Tentacle Lizardo kick it off. They were sort of like Piranhas' brother band and they show up here sounding mighty fish-bitey. Human Eye follow with “Fix Me Universe Nurse” and if you’ve glommed that LP, then you know what kind of epic astral-punk you’re in for. Frustrations are biker-psych-punk for a new generation and so they appropriately approximate a “Psychedelic Motorcrash.” Terrible Twos drop off “Negative Drip,” which kinda sounds like Catholic Boys w/ a synth. Heroes & Villains and Johnny Ill Band close out the first side with a couple of poppier numbers that sound like 80s college rock, H&V sounding particularly Clean-ish.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Flip leads off with a 2004 demo version of Tyvek doing “Flashing Lights,” which is nice to hear, followed by the ridiculous scum punk of The Mahonies, featuring some dudes from Terrible Twos. Hunt down their single, it’s good, and funny. The Fontana song isn’t quite as killer as their 7” from last year, but this is a band to watch. Anxiously awaiting their LP. Little Claw do a very different take on their “Feeding You Your New Home” than on their recent Siltbreeze 7”. This one is a noisy blues that I’m gonna call “the Gories version.” THTX is new to me, but their “Monorails to Nowhere” is cool psych inna George Brigman vein. Odd Clouds are an ESP-Disk-inspired semi-super group of noteworthy Detroit dudes and they get weird and communal and, shit, maybe you should spark that joint now. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(X! Records // www.x-recs.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Vivian Girls “I Can’t Stay” 7”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I’m not here to debate Vivian Girls with you, I am merely here to tell you that if you like the LP, you will also enjoy this 45. “I Can’t Stay” is as good as anything on there and has a dark undercurrent, which is beginning to bubble to the surface on their newer songs. The songwriting seems slightly more sophisticated, but not in any sort of forced way. The B-side is an apparently mis-titled cover (supposed to be “Run Spot Run,” by Daisy Chain), but regardless it’s a lovely vision of the Girls’ way with reverb-spectral voicings. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(In The Red // www.intheredrecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Zola Jesus s/t 7”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I can see why people wouldn’t dig this. I can see their little thought-bubbles with silent cries of “Tori Amos!” “Fiona Apple!” “Lilith Fair!”. Fair enough, I say, but I’m also thinking “Marianne Nowottny!” “Azalia Snail.” “Suicide?” Hell, in some ways, Zola Jesus sounds like a lo-fi Portishead. I kinda dig it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Die Stasi // myspace.com/diestasi)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/ZXdFZj2SYdUGWevyZaGebjG-Kdc1_BmZr0UTo3jOTFWMVo7LNTyxJh34dpEMNdtwEwfcHaZHSDVy-rcPGhKGDx62U0HQBK6qjlb4WogRHEqvBPLW6okJUWU3RUZnUmgcBmoUtSYL" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Black Congress are a Houston TX rock unit made up of some former Fatal Flyin’ Guilloteens and who knows what else. What I do know is they bring some heavy punk, unafraid to grind out hypnotic riffs with all manner of keyboard/sample noise adding to the din. “Slums of Heaven” almost gets into Loop territory, a rainy day bass-heavy dirge. You’d probably be happy to know that “London’s Burning” is not a Clash cover, but maybe less pleased with it’s rather pedestrian ‘90s post-hardcore vibe. I think it’s the unnecessarily distorted vocals, but the song itself never communicates the rage it’s attempting to channel. “Davidians” is better, circular bass groove and random noises adding some depth to the proceedings. I just realized how much this sounds like Slug (esp. the vocals), but without the latter’s, shall we say, charm. With a little more focus, Black Congress could be a deadly force. I really dig the black-and-white photo aesthetic they’ve got going on with the sleeves of these two self-released singles. Rumor has it that AmRep is gearing up again, and maybe we’ll be hearing more from these guys via those guys. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(self-released // blckcngrss.blogspot.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Circle X untitled 12”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/ZU1v9qK7qXk7cBYdQUR54e9b2jCD_a6Mv8j0eykdKpBvoKlc60SW_LeoCXhXVM-_bc-3-uanFt9cuYfV9HovqyOahCYJoPCtDq_y5aJSOraK4W4Y0F81w4Y7QLisnPvSB6aRK4M7" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Praise be to the holy god of Nihilism that this monumental slab of No Wave/proto-noise rock is finally once again available in the preferred format, 12” vinyl. Originally released in France back in 1979 on Not a Label, reissued on CD in 1996 via Dave Grubbs’ short-lived Dexter’s Cigar imprint, and now, once again, courtesy of Insolito, this 4 song masterpiece is out there roaming the dirty streets looking for kicks, and maybe to get kicked. It’s truly remarkable how contemporary this sounds, yet it is so utterly of-its-time. An additional paradox is how absolutely filthy ‘70s New York it comes across, yet it was written and recorded in France. Opening with the closest they get to a traditional rock song, “Tender” has a guitar line that predicts The Pixies ten years early, punctuated by perfectly-placed feedback breaks. Tony Pinotti’s anguished vocals complement the gradually-disintegrating track with maniacal shrieks to “Bow to me!” “Albeit Living” begins with layered voices reciting a brief poem then dives head-first into an abyss of near-hardcore velocities and eviscerated guitar entrails. “Onward Christian Soldier” is a dirge that plows endlessly forward, an awful invitation to a pointless slaughter; almost like a Black Sabbath song cut adrift from blues and groove, a post-“War Pigs” trudge towards annihilation. “Underworld” starts off prefiguring the violent hardcore poetry of Antioch Arrow and interrupts with mournful breaks before savagely ending just as you are getting a handle on the cacophony presented to you. It is a breathless listen, and it is highly recommended.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Insolito // www.insolitorecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Lognhalsmottagningen "Fina Nyanser I Nya Finanser" 7”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="140px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/vKzIo7BwdbW4Ww1Bq-rbLWNiiRx0zX5ydtM2xjtlrJnZUcbtLBec_QzGI1QtmE4gFPjj7N_sjJpo7GriTiKksDssovyK10dRupLQgNMc__wVNGNQ2xWW1GYffGriwAgI8J9rj976" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="140px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Holy fuck, this record. I’m tempted to do one of those ultra-obnoxious “This is what punk should sound like” spiels, but I’ll spare us both and just say that This is what punk should fucking sound like. I have no clue what they’re saying and I have no idea how to pronounce their name, but I do know that the drums are recorded so perfectly it makes me want to cry. The snare just thwacks you in the face with every hit, the bass has a great gnarly, dirty, but not too distorted, tone, and the guitar coats it all in a glorious sheen of treble. The singer rants just right and I dunno, it’s just really goddamn good. The only thing I can make out on the insert is that they lift a “melody” from the Young Identities’ “Positive Thinking.” Hey, great artists steal. But it’s “Nya Lognhalsar” on the B-side that makes me want to jump off a building in pure ecstasy. I swear it’s one of the best punk songs of the last few years. The weird thing is one of these dudes was in Boyracer or something? There’s a Slumberland connect. I love this record. Buy it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Local Cross // www.localcross.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Scarcity of Tanks "Bleed Now" CD</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="145px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/utTdyHGhXOAURonMfQ0tR86eU--rsKKFPcG14YYXHrmeARzd0p3rU7OzqKOpxBI9fpFg5_LJ5pX9lj-UDSQiSdChLylWd-XkfQy-2BNSU4-S7qu86mVmAz5edsNJJCFaADGiyj8j" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="145px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Scarcity of Tanks is the ongoing concern of Matthew Ming Shank Wascovich, a reclusive poet perched on the shores of Lake Erie. Despite his playfully anti-social tendencies, “Wasco” has managed to rope many a talented Cleave musician (and sometimes beyond) into his free-rock band, flirting with noise, jazz, and the more avant-garde offshoots of hardcore punk. 2008’s No Endowments brought all of these disparate factors together in a satisfying long-player. Bleed Now finds the group as close to a “normal” rock band as they have been yet, maintaining a relatively solid line-up and playing shows on a consistent basis. The album storms out with “August,” establishing the template, as Wasco declares his lyrics over Ted Flynn’s guitar, which peels off new directions in Classic rock shred, like Joe Baiza raised on The James Gang. The rhythm section is all muscular throb, bassist Sebastian Wagner occasionally finding the hidden melodies beneath the avant-thrum (like on “Cardboard”); the drums are in the capable hands of journeyman Clevo skinsman (and painter), Scott Pickering, Puff Tube himself, member of bands ranging from Spike in Vain to Speaker/Cranker. At the mid-century mark, he still pounds harder than kids a third his age. The man is a rock. Not content with just monotoning his abstract lyrics, Wasco sings more on this release than ever before. “Requisite Fire” has a meditative Lungfish serenity, which is blown apart by the hardcore gallop of “Melt Dove Miles.” SoT has gone through some interesting transformations over the years, but this newest version may be the best yet. On Bleed Now, they come across like some sort of mutant post-punk avant-garage Jim Carroll Band, sans the Catholic guilt, instead a heaping pile of Rust Belt blues on their plates.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/vbZ6cdxCT3zXTU8514zBln4j828i8xkR0-aglFm9cL_85AbDQqd-NLco878Z0NHz9RA2c7mPLa0GqH1T_52QHvoj3inrpYha-ASI-hGJfb8Ro-LCt4-gVhjU3I_iZud65XYbBwym" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Recorded back in 2003, and quickly vanishing into a haze of on-again/off-again possible release (mostly through that notorious scene-hopping label par excellance, Troubleman Unlimited), this legendary (to a certain scene of people at least) album finally sees a proper burial via Gossip guitarist Nathan Howdeshell’s new-ish label, Fast Weapons. The Portland group was a No Wave nightmare, a post-hardcore/math rock MARS, chops to burn, especially the drummer, who executes some truly sick rolls, and alternately pleading and pestering vocals. “INTERFERENCE….B&B Girls” is nearly 6 minutes of relentless No Wave pounding, stripped of all the gimmickry of the majority of Skin Graft bands, leaving the song itself lying in the street, a naked, mutilated corpse. “Scaring the Birds…Don’t Speak My Name” sounds like what you always thought acid rain felt like. This is dark stuff, confronting the more uncomfortable aspects of flesh and its desires, similar to the body horror expressed by contemporaries like early Chromatics and Shoplifting. The slash-and-burn attack of The Scissor Girls (and even Bride of NoNo) comes to mind, but Sleepmute Nightmute shows no sense of humor, instead clamoring forth with an intensity and focus rarely seen in today’s underground. The musical dexterity is off-set by the palpable anxiety and despair. It’s certainly not a fun listen, but I find myself continuously returning to the album, surrendering to the corrosive sheets of guitar and agonized vocals, but most especially those drums, which sound genuinely pained. Despite all the emotional turmoil in these songs, it makes me happy to see this lost slice of early Ought noise is finally out there for the general public.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/_f-KbMDWbTJrJx_QmfclZD_80izHC8n79KV21EXstYxEXV_FYzlmGFyjKqlPi4MvjkV2QzL7TWEt8cik81ZkK1bgihEfpB7KKY2bRUOvRgzKC6eiLgKUnU0lPDlnl9i1E6Jq_gsY" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> The Fuckers of Slugs practically wrote this review for me. Contained within the thick-ass record jacket, in true Dada fashion, is a manifesto. It trumps any references to Down’s Syndrome PiL, Psychedelic Horseshit in a particularly foul mood, or even merely typing the names People With Chairs Up Their Noses or Makers of the Dead Travel Fast.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">CONCEPTUAL OPACITY – AN ABBERRANT MUSIC: The Slugfuckers’ Test of Musical (Dis)Taste [a selection]:</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> “This band is one big joke, one endless experiment, one eternal orgasmic wank, one in TERMINabLe BORE.” “…our only recourse is to be anti-music, therefore pro-noise.” “The audience as beggar.” “The music is just an excuse.” “…better than eating or sex sometimes.” “The sound of stoppage and breakdown.” “We spray it all back at you.” “You dose yourself with mucus, booze, and downers…”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">They almost break the spew/spell with a list of “friends and heroes” that includes SPK, N-Lets (who?), TG, Pere Ubu, Lee Harvey Oswald, ATV, The Pop Group, Yippies, Tristan Tzara, Luigi Russolo, etc. But the “CRAZYMIX, SCAPDASH” rant continues, and concludes with a threat of an invitation: “We advise you to keep away. We want to pulverize you with our maniacal love squeeze, hot tears up your cunt, shove spiders up your prick, force hedgehogs up your nose: We want you to feel like us and die. Throw away your strings.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Insolito // www.insolitorecords.com)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="149px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/zHybzR4LJC77PA0ALwljr-StYDdJM_otE0CxFF-VIMqWjq8895d0ptrYTWaiOK2hngGPCf9CzJ5MZy9Ln_2XDQ46jXFpx5RbeF5bz8IB71wo_9X2fHYCPuWuItisqWw8UDRigpzW" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Anyone who is hip to the Sperm Wails knows that it’s a goddamn tragedy that they didn’t release more material. I don’t care if they toured with My Bloody Valentine, I don’t care if they personally rolled Kevin Shields’ spliffs every night, I don’t care if they wore their mums’ knickers when she went to church on Sunday mornings, I don’t care if they diddled dogs’ assholes with their tongues, I JUST WISH THEY HAD PUT OUR MORE SHIT. A 12”, a 7”, a flexi (hey it was the ‘80s), that’s it! Argh!! They had a modest legacy of being a relatively forgotten great band that time forgot, until five years ago, when a video from the Shelter Video Compilation (whatever the hell that is) was posted on YouTube. The video was for a song called “Lady Chatterley,” that didn’t appear on any of their records, and was perhaps their most vicious song (and this is a vicious band). The video seemed to hint at dark and terrible things, while the music sounded like Pussy Galore stripped of everything but the hate and yeah fuck the blues, we got plenty of depression and spite to draw from. A small-scale web sensation for fucked-up losers clued into such things. Enter S-S Records, beloved label of those same FUL, and now this song finally feels the kiss of wax. “Mr Wonderful” is a throwaway, a dalliance, but who cares when you’ve got that song on a little 45 rpm single. What is “Lady Chatterley” like? As scissorkicks comments on the youtube: “This song makes me want to smash everything ever.” </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(S-S Records)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Human Eye/Sex Beet split 7"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="125px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/lRQH446YAMOoV2AsU0-5yWNHM-U8K39a-6kvZDe9tHGCpEwyKDSmpjS_bRaoCR-K4-1AYfgbRvtG_b_gkQ7zLf66YtH56afvSJlyR5oeJgFq6X4lzc0iEH6DTa16T6UX_xjAfGYA" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="125px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> There’s plenty of talk on “the Scion issue” spread amongst various forms of readily available media, so let’s skip that and address the music itself. Human Eye’s side was recorded by Ivan Julian (Voidoids) and he’s got a nice touch, softening the Eye up a bit for their take on Timmy’s “Martian Queen.” It works. You can hear early Alice Cooper band in the rolling drums and melodic psych guitar action. Somehow these guys can take that in-bred Detroit influence and twist it into something fresh. Sex Beet, on the other hand, seem completely out of place on the flipside. Their tune, “Alone,” (and it really is a “tune”) is a pleasant enough slice of catchy, vaguely psych, pop, but, really, what’s the point? You’ve got to try a lot harder if you’re gonna be on a split with Human Eye. Saves the trouble of turning the record over, I guess.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Women in Prison "Strange Waves" 7”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="170px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/83kGybNyOevcaoMOdyMQCa-mi4ALPJWLCl3He9AZwL5en7_IQ5UFeV9RpJQ0uUanywzYkbdpCuo9ZKHbHUisfovmmZhFo4DuNS57Yjh469ukFjs1j0X_4ca9F1n0qSJaAcfdcCVC" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Hey all of you heavy-hitting punk collectors out there, I got some news for that ass: Great punk records are still being made! I know, crazy, right? Here (along with that Lognhal… platter) is one of the best of recent memory. Straight-up raging scuzz-punk from Austin TX. This here 45 contains three of the world-beaters from their six-song demo that came out last year. I thought “Suicidal Exit” was the hit, but it’s not to be found here. Doesn’t matter cuz these guys got songs for days. Yeah, they actually remembered to write some!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I, for one, appreciate that kind of forethought.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This is what this record sounds like: Your cool friends just spontaneously formed a band, they’re bursting with a couple ideas, they get a case of beer, they go down to the basement (I know it’s Austin but bear with me), they turn on the old dust-covered PA, the one from the Seventies, the one with the sick reverb that’s got presence and depth unlike these goddamn tinny pedals of today; they crank the guitars up to a nice Saints-like roar, and as the drummer deals with the fact that the drum kit is a piece of shit, a reverse pride starts forming as a matter of fact. “I’m gonna make this pile of junk sound good,” he thinks. They start playing. You are three floors up, reading a book about autoerotic asphyxiation, slowly squeezing a lemon, when you realize that the distant thunder you feel shaking the house is actually the dudes downstairs and they are fucking killing it. “Strange Waves” makes you wanna freak out, fuck anything that moves, then snort it up your nose, hell shove it up your fucking ass. A lightning bolt hits you: “My dumb-ass friends are the best punk band in the city, the state, maybe even the whole country….?!”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/5VXjXboIuayJqdHDcA5Nc9PVu_Up929RMRuqqx48nnOPOFnXrkAzDOjw3OUIAsORWpL_o6f1Ymck9doa1SHWiUGcO5Vstx1tg9u2HJx6nYK0Re1AcwO0ZgPGBrCyPH4NiUBDTtoq" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> What’s the proper nomenclature for a group of bands that are all connected? A gaggle? A flock? A murder? What about “shit-ton?” X-Ray Eyeballz are part of the incestuous Brooklyn scene centered around Golden Triangle(band)/Live with Animals(art gallery/showspace)/Beacon’s Closet(vintage/used clothing store). You see a lot of these same people in a lot of bands (K-Holes, Heavenly Blows, etc.), but the fact is, most of these bands are pretty damn good. X-Ray’s got OJ and Carly from GT (on vox/guit and vox/bass repectively) plus Rop, late of PeeChees and a friend to dogs everywhere. They have a sort of woozy, spooky vibe that doesn’t quite ever fully plunge into the swamp or the garage, but sounds just strange enough to carve out their own identity. Part of that is Rop’s weird keyboard and synth moves that add little bits and layers for your ears to pick out. The A, “Crystal,” is a good example of this; it seems kinda familiar and traditional, but there’s something about it that worms its way into your head (there’s a great video up on the webs for it too). The B has two quick numbers, the first of which is a decent Oh Sees rip, the second of which, “Kam Sing Nights,” has a nice shuffle and more prominent keys.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">NOTHING IS TRUE/EVERYTHING IS PERMITTED</span></h1>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="478px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/AjDN9JKKR2DENp8eUbgxKQBS_5HFL8MViJuvVA42SVxKkzWg7SOiCQbbYy_qbAq5E75ASDEDCZZrek3Gp8Rd2yxujvZJ9IODXWC4rn0pwbBqF_AEmWiYuI4Z52qoFYHBRQlQ4WH1" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="321px;" /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Since Our Esteemed Editor deemed my previous attempt at a column too self-centered, rambling, and perhaps even "faggy," we're gonna try a different tact on approaching this thang. Records! You like 'em, right? OK, then, let's take a look at some recent releases by three totally happening underground rock labels. Let's start this bitch off with what is the no-contest Lord of Noise Rock Labels, muhfuckin Load Records.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In the 90s, we had Skin Graft bringing all sorts of masked insanity to the clamoring hordes (that would be aggressive, nerdy kids who wanted something beyond the ol' 1-2-3-4). Skin Graft had a glorious run, blessing the world with such headscratchers as US Maple, Flying Luttenbachers, (the underrated and totally bizarre) Zeek Sheck, Mount Shasta, Space Streakings, mighty Melt-Banana, Brise-Glace, and plenty of other art-punk super-heroes. I thought it was the greatest shit going for a minute, a cure-all to banal pop-punk garbage and boring-ass "punk" rock. But then Y2K happened and Skin Graft's circuits were scrambled. Just when it seemed as if we were about to plunge back into the Dark Ages, Load came along, shifting its focus from pretty alright but nothin-special "noisy" rock (remember Thee Hydrogen Terrors?) to full-on freak explosions. Of course, Load, like any great label, started out as a reflection of its local scene, and the art-student mecca (Talking Heads, dude!) of Providence RI was entering a goddamn renaissance of real-deal Noise Rock, emphasis on both words. Inspired by the anything-goes creativity of the fading Chicago Now Wave scene and Skin Graft's Dada/Pop Art attack, Load picked up the gauntlet, threw a fresh coat of Dayglo paint on it and BAM! CRASH! ZAP! there were lots of new fucked-up bands to spazz out with. Ten years later, Load is a brand name, and while all their releases aren't total mind-blowers, they at least warrant a closer look. Yeah, "Get to it, windbag," I hear you say. Wish = command.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="167px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/T1ieaI_PMcyFdbeHfBY6h-kscLhews_nG7h6sVEDp5WYcmAP40EnBOSP0ONsswRmj9s0aNi-1zqb8mQIHHPtksokmM1AhERYPTrjHBG4RfJn6qwdQKZtAw20Tq87u4zGLj7p8cLB" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/LX0y51XjKx7InFqFyqlC0pJLJSswEwt_SapNnRmXFbbtwkQmCrUHbLGjMonwtvBFRLwooxveGKOj7eaXjvZfp5hNmCmqXsBtDBWgq6kDSHq3lpPTFrlZVUvF6ByHnX4ZcWXJzf0E" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">At this late date, Load has expanded its focus far beyond Providence city limits, going across The Pond even. It started with Norway's punch-drunk Vikings, Noxagt, and continues with Finland's HETERO SKELETON, who feature some dudes from the much-lauded New Weird Finland psych-folk stream. Hetero Skeleton is not folk music, unless you consider the sounds of amp-torture to be folk music (admittedly, these old world definitions are being strained and rearranged with each new day). Despite the Finnish origins, the album is called En La Sombra Del Pajaro Velludo, which means Loud Ass Shit Made By Robots Who Are Trying To Quit Smoking, and is divided into two parts. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/QUW2-GfDtAIy30frKR8Oe212jr6Sujiz2CiuEjXF0AcUB2mZ7UKtpAklCciYt9AnAHSy9b3eKbweFaX0m3OMzzpvnrlEccU2TxVyaecNuO0Gb59sv4Z6yL9RwWQxiR7_-T2Hxq19" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> The first is called "La Oracion Del Muerte" and sounds like Hair Police trying to approximate a BYG side (ie. free jazz through amps to eleven). The second part ("El Serpente Del Amor") lets the horns shriek a little higher in the mix and you can even make out drums and garbled, slobbering vocals. This shit is blown-out like a Teengenerate rec. If you can take early Sightings, you might eat this one up. Which brings us to AIR CONDITIONING and their new one, Dead Rails. AC are from the fertile and small-town sleazy Allentown PA scene that gave us Pissed Jeans, among others, and used to converge on the Jeff the Pigeon venue (where this LP was recorded) and maybe still does. The Sightings reference works real nicely here, as AC trade in the sort of distorted-to-the-brink-of-pain guitar scree as that group. But, you can also hear echoes of speaker-destroying Japanese hard-psych like Mainliner and High Rise. There's not quite as much Blue Cheer worship as those bands, but there are still some overtones of heavy rock pummel and groove, especially in the lumbering, monolithic final cut, "Accept Your Paralysis/Cephalexin.". Just hope you like some white noise with that riff. One band I just don't get/like on Load is WHITE MICE. They have all the classic Load signifiers: Satanic mouse costumes, towering amp stacks blasting unholy loudness, goofy </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="240px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/fZS_3I-TJWwgbUB7pcrd-pTg_XFrbbc_wz5YEVz7sD2PTp-9YBHfdnduCdz1MGaK0rIMvybM853a_6UkNBruGuZhdVHX1Ity6ODvN9XjdB0_g6io3wQ51BP-97WEKPgli7jHOA4i" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="240px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> album/song titles (the LP is called BLASSSTPhLEGMEICE and there's tracks called "Mousestasssh Ride" and "Turban Sprawl"), etc. To me, though, they come off as the noise scene's very own Anal Cunt, which isn't exactly a compliment. They sound like gODHEADSILO trying to play dress-up with some Scandinavian black-metal. It's just corny and the music is redundant. Live, it didn't move me much more. Taking a break from the kill-yr-eardrums assault, we have the debut full-length from SILVER DAGGERS, who hail from LA and are part of that city's thriving art-punk scene centered around DIY venue, The Smell. Although their name is most certainly an Electric Eels reference, Silver Daggers sound nothing like the greatest punk band ever (yeah, you know it), instead they explicitly recall Euro art-punk squall like The Ex, and, most of all, the incredible Dog Faced Hermans. This means you get lots of bass-heavy grooves paired with slashing guitars and squawky sax courtesy of Mika Miko's Jenna Thornhill. Now, this being 21st century US punk, there is the inevitable synth action, but it is tastefully used and doesn't get in the way of the tumbling, yet controlled rhythms. Also, these songs do not approach the astute political and social commentary of a Dog Faced Hermans cut, but it's still thrilling to hear the kids trying their hands at these sounds. I really like the lonely sax intro to "Faithful Unlawful," which segues into a pounding Gang of Four-esque bass/drums lockdown. New High & Ord was recorded by Mike McHugh and has cover art by Gary Panter(!). Jumping right back into the noise fray, we have what may be my favorite of the recent Load spew, MONOTRACT, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/0GTfRotg-z7-knc0o2bqhmzKAYlEAMXJecgiF2LyuNmMQ5AKMS8zByUrWcp8Ci7s77y7N3cVCl1SfCILr8t9dEOvMBQfT2BiMhGym4u_GDLW5duRq5GlUN7SXJaDpYFK-gRinO_V" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> which features Carlos Giffoni who, besides playing in various musical combos, organizes No Fun Fest, which is like the noise scene's mini-SXSW (I'm sure he'd love that comparison). Not positive of the exact instrumentation on here, but I would guess laptop, guitar, and drums. This clash between the organic drums/guitar and the swirling, grainy sounds of the computer gives Trueno Obscuro an interesting tension. The drums sound great, weaving in and out of the noise, which is curiously and blessedly non-harsh. And there are songs here, with understandable vocals and everything! Pretty radical in this milieu. Hmmm, here's a strange, but entirely appropriate, comparison: Laika. When Nancy Garcia sings on this sucker, and sounds are a-buzzin like a rainforest and the drums lay down that tribal beat...yeah, it kinda sounds like Laika (after being raped by Merzbow, of course). Who's Laika? Yeah, well, don't ask, but they were good and an unexpected precursor to the sounds herein. So, I fucked up last review cycle and forgot to do USAISAMONSTER's newest one, The Sunset at the End of the Industrial Age. It's fucking good. More </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="170px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/bmkwJ8Ggb6PJ9jjv4qbLxRDiMTVQpaAugw2kG_2gH9wYLoHN70FC7B19mD0b2OoBxR2YvaesZ6x1blt_UysjbwGUa1WwLpLnaEa0OVrNlsCNyIDaHKlAddV4F5jvu-nX7sr0URc6" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="170px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> stream-lined than the double-LP Wohaw, Sunset continues USA...'s record-a-year streak in fine fashion. More homeless-man-who-is-a-really-good-guitarist rants from Colin and more of Tom's multi-part epics about These United States, pre-European ruiner invasion. Manifest Destiny, my ass. Finally, while not on Load, we would like to mention Lightning Bolt drummer extraordinaire, Brian Chippendale's solo project, BLACK PUS. So far he has self-released three hand-packaged CDRs, of which I have 2 and 3 (MetamorPus). If you've heard Chipps' other project, Mindflayer, than you have some idea of what's going on here: piercing, feedback vocal noise slathered over frenetic drums that sound like Dave Lombardo taking a gander at Rashied Ali's recorded work. Just in case you think this shit ain't punk, here's the lyrics to 3's fairie stomp, "Earth Ain't Enuff": "come by my neighborhood/to buy my neighborhood/come at the crack of dawn/singing your slimy song/wearing a fresh pressed suit/crafted from wireless loot/then grab my neighbors place/leading the property race/buy all the water too/earth ain't enuff for you." (www.myspace.com/blackpus)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="104px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/KZeOHnRP1f3BefOKQf5qRMyQL1aNeQZBLTrS0eOokbZf1TddyPbxlFoyPixMyu9kZihAFPQPfZBcayoxJUc8CiH7Ck8GVong60FMZXM3D76KOZzRaDS7t_SuAn9eGKHLsVje68UO" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="104px;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Now that we're done with that cacophony, let's focus on the triumphant re-emergence of legendary '90s indie, Siltbreeze. After taking a lengthy sabbatical, Tom Lax decided to get back in the game (like Michael Corleone) after having his ears pricked by some great new bands. We all know about Times New Viking, who have been rising fast n' bulbous and are now signed to Matador. But let's check out the newbies cuz this latest batch of releases yields three of the best records of the year so far. The mysterious DER TPK (Teenage PanzerKorps) charge hard out of the gate on Harmful Emotions with "Theme Control," then get all </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="164px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/1EPauxZFghHxxLWvWSvmFY-rDpGP9jvuOru9Ge8AVZM97WaQntKE6iA9dW6e6J0nwlXDlVQyoXi2HwqrgaHvvZDQJt-PfKnM_xiRZD00IxM01LyNYpTXAmSzST2YGeOrXnYaNexi" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="164px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> cloudy and faraway on "Headless Voice," and that encapsulates much of what they do. There's a distinct Dead C vibe running through this LP, but it's tempered with a Wiry commitment to short songs. The staticky, dramatic vocals and droning guitars are tempered with powerful, straightforward drumming and weird edits that interrupt songs just as they start to float away. You've also got fast punkers like "German Jesus" and "Blood Math" and ginchy, disconnected cuts like "Catholic Radio" and "Government Christians" (apparently they have issues with God). Needless consumer guide: If you have to chose between the Los Llamarada LP and this, go with Harmful Emotions; they're good for you! Now, for what could be fave LP of the year, now, and six months from now. SAPAT's Mortise and Tenon is one of the best homages/extensions to/of Krautrock I've ever heard. Not that it is a slavish imitation, far from it. It kind of sounds like what I've always wished No-Neck Blues Band would (and occasionally actually do) sound like. Starts off with "Vulvasonique," a lovely drone that very slowly and deliberately builds to a full-on senses-encompassing blissful rock-out called "Maat Fount," and goddamn is it beautiful; like a butterfly </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/MsO5FJwSiNNd9itmYJkIGztTAcU8D_dqCusPy-bf4a2gOxOKCw66zHgDCFyrEyF0g1U8NzXmnElFZO17CWzYq3Ojy8uB7J02jQHspJSwMLp0-7wVpNtWPEGLfO1NormudkhSwZKR" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> emerging from its cocoon. And that butterfly takes wing on "Dark Silver," which gives off hints of second-album Amon Duul and....Fuzzhead! Yup, this album reminds me of Fuzzhead at their best, which makes a lot of sense cuz Fuzzhead used to be a major player in the '90s neo-psych scene (and they're still around and still great, goddammit). Mortise and Tenon is a head record the way they used to make 'em. It plays through various moods and sounds; graceful and spacey one moment, rocking out with lysergic guitar leads the next. There's little of the Beefheart vibe found on last year's 7", but this is just as good. From Kentucky, no less! Also hailing from a sort of backwoods, PINK REASON should be familiar to most regular TB readers. After the art-punk jag of Der TPK, then the graceful psychedelia of Sapat, Pink Reason is the perfect late-night come-down. Cleaning The Mirror is a drowsy mix of cough-syrup vocals, stoned acoustic strumming, distant almost-bluesy leads and occasional electronic beats and FX. The over-all effect is mournful, but the resignation seems to take on a Nietzschean slant. This record might not kill you, but it will make you stronger.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="151px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/8jw03uk_fAbMi4lpgoJL2EAOhqProHiTMk33twNYbP5HPGXszcbtUupKP3yIcBHmAFbP-a5OoUjcpabbJpCHSCqJD72z3DpGfwtZb-R3gcJEtYpPax27vyPJXY_zKOiIP15gwfEE" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Recently, Brooklyn scene-heroes/godfathers, Oneida, started a label, Brah, that is basically an imprint of their label, Jagjaguwar. Oneida gets to choose all the bands and lets Daddy do all the heavy-lifting, which is perfect if you think about it. After putting out some so-so records by friends' side projects, Brah signed Brooklyn bros Part and Labor and Pterodactyl. Around the same time, Parts and Labor started their own label, Cardboard. For these two releases, Brah/Jag released the CD, while Cardboard put out the LP. Blue Jay is PTERODACTYL's first long-player and it does not disappoint. All the spastic energy of their live show is translated along with studio touches that make this record one of my favorites of the year. This is headphone punk. "Polio" explodes in a frenzy with a manic drum beat and weird trebly guitar figures as the mutli-part high-pitch harmonies come out you like a swarm of bees. "Safe Like a Train" is reprised from an earlier 7" and sounds like Fake Train-era Unwound. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/ui1g53br7kdSCDjZ2nH0LR5DlnvLaMbnI2xNzitmWsPipAOBNEPNuoq-TCIO9lqhew1FOAnHfAXyS3Ct-oG8WfjeYfzFsHIhZ9LKcNwNvhd41JsxpFp5GrWmopg4RHgIQw4QkrNJ" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> "Three Succeed," too, was on a 7", but this version really nails the swelling noisy guitar and creepy harmonies. "Ask Me Nicely" is manic Ptero-style hardcore, threatening to derail at any moment. But, like the best of their songs, it manages to be memorable and unnerving. This record takes a step forward for any noise-rock bands trying to write interesting songs that feature innovative sonics. It ends with "Esses," their finest moment to date. Innovative sonics and catchy songs are nothing new to PARTS AND LABOR. Mapmaker is their third LP and shows why they are one of the best bands currently going. Last year's Stay Afraid was a watershed moment, combining noise with a Husker Du-like ear for melody and songwriting. I'm probably saddling Parts and Labor with a burden they don't want, but, then again, they are sort of asking for it. They represent a sort of post-[insert famous date here] cautious optimism that actually comes off as sincere and artfully accomplished. The lead off cut, "Fractured Skies" has punishing drums and squealing electronics, but also an uplifting horn part that swells like a cleansing wave. This LP isn't quite as bombastic and anthemic as Stay </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/_efT2zINOtGBtJSa8HNivNaNhSzjsAG66oQu7mgceON_KrvVQE1L0gVjB6eEMEE-yB5ny-7M7O9A04GziiLoSTsHq8Oz2BCkkBUoYMCK463xeufpOsqXtvEUtHIgeoi4_vNN40Bb" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Afraid, but it shows a few other sides, like the danceable "The Gold We're Digging," and the fast n' fun one-minute hardcore of "Camera Shy," which could've been on a Blasting Concept comp. The whole SST thing really comes home to roost with their cover of Minutemen's "King of the Hill." Just to clarify. this is not "Brooklyn hipster shit," it's just really fucking good music. OK then. Finally, Cardboard has released a CD by LA's GOWNS, a guy and a gal who have done time in groups like The Mae-Shi and Amps For Christ. Red State has an underlying political pulse throbbing through it, but the first thing that struck me was how much the first track, "Fargo," sounds like vintage Laurie Anderson; not an influence you hear bandied about much, but one we wish was. There's a desolate, 4 AM atmosphere to these songs, all mushed out on drugs and loneliness.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="200px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/2__bTcL_FWfcyTeLDCeJSBTE685T5FsxYTtBTzSK2b3TVGs_WiJeBJOcB4Uv6vMZFd4lUF2nmzMHGSeKIZ1R9MOlV3KiHixvB_XyK3BTXUcr1EdNiFuegXzox1l3UW7G8y-ah6-b" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="200px;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A few more things to mention:</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Davis CA's KDVS radio station is one of the finest in the country, holding its own with the standard-bearer WFMU, and they have now started a record label. Their first release is by Sacramento's WHO'S YOUR FAVORITE SON, GOD? (partial to Horus myself). A three-piece who alternate mathy rock with sky-reaching psych interludes, this LP could have used a few more months in the oven cuz it feels half-baked. Titan it up and then we'll talk.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="150px;" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/DHQ4iRM7ae1JC8FlIt0UMyD3-hnlfZSe92M9shzvoSn7Hc-a6RUhGOL7hF94fCeai_EM3ND6fxAThTWfekO26_aHriFGCPC0-dMYwCyR4oIcpO7p-W_EsV5PRc1cvcjoMiD9jTSZ" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="150px;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hey! Have you ever heard of WOLF EYES?!? Shit, you're Aunt Wilhemina probably has a limited edition cassette made out of rat skin and boar sperm, so get with the program, loser! What's the program? The one where you hit "scary noise" then "boring thunder beat" then "demonic harsh scream" then "sucking sound" then you get it mastered. For reals, ya'll, no doubt WE have put out some quality recs and played some burnin live offerings, but enuff already, aight? You need their new record like a hole in your belly. It's called Human Animal (Sub Pop), about as dumb a title as you could expect, but these guys don't sound like animals, not even geeky human ones. It sounds like they are playing thru the Wolf Eyes (tm) pedal. Maybe they see themselves as the heir to the wonderfully fucked tradition of outsider Michigan art-spew, but Destroy All Monsters this ain't. Where's the humor? Where's the dynamics? Where's the beef? If Whitehouse and Throbbing Gristle were really into Swans and The Melvins........well, they would've made some really rad records. All respect to the entity of Wolf Eyes as such, but I am goddamn sick of their music.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">GOD BLESS THIS FEST</span></h1>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="656px;" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/bMf095liCsWcSnPDDZ_paBhpTZ4PO6vzLORrneCkTie4m3_l9GsQYgkkCVM2Ka71PitaKgejpDWYHCLU66NYOWrHQ5CWMWX8J5gahCjleCaPrxqKlrOY6ca_t4uDo7OPKkI848B-" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="500px;" /></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">When I first heard rumblings about Horriblefest, I thought, “Yeah fuckin right.” I mean, it’s Cleveland, y’know? Things have a nasty habit of falling apart here, rusting far quicker than nature intends. It’s easy to give up in or on this town. The sky is still gonna be grey tomorrow and the streets will still be broken, probably from the sheer force of half a million downcast eyes.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">But then I slapped myself hard in the face and decided to get psyched. I mean, these are the streets where nobody lives. We deserve a fucking Punk Rock Hoedown as much as the next crumbling city.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">So, God bless one local degenerate (Ryan Horrible), one transplanted degenerate (Russ Romance), and their little fairy helper (Jon G of The Feelers), cuz this three day weekend of fast guitar riffs, fat weed spliffs, and good ol’ fashioned liquorin’ up fulfilled all expectations. My only complaint is that it went by too goddamn quick.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The first and third nights were at the Beachland, an old Croation dancehall retro-fitted six years ago into one of the, if not THEE, best Cleveland rock venue. The first night was in the Tavern, a small-ish, intimate bar that comfortably holds about 150. I was waiting on a friend coming in from Detroit, so we arrived late, just as Buffalo’s Trailer Park Tornados was hitting its last thundering chord. I was bummed I missed them and Pittsburgh’s rock n’ roll spazz brigade, Radio Beats, but them’s the breaks and the evening was just getting started. Up next was one-man band sensation Jeffrey Novak and he delivered some goods and then came back around for a second trip. His picking hand clutched a drumstick and he furiously hacked out riffs and cracked the snare, simultaneously screaming his head off and kicking the shit out of a bass drum. Scuzz hate blues done by a young man with the whole world in front of him, ready to hear some pissed-off jams.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Just a few days before, me and Ryan Horrible had ventured down to the wilds of Akron for an early-look at the The King Khan and BBQ Show and The Black Lips, so I knew KK and BBQ were gonna shake shit down. And they did. Pitch-perfect vocals, like disembodied voices from long-forgotten 45s, wailed over thumpin drums and dueling guitars that went from soulful to nasty in the swig of a beer. Khan did his on-stage strip-tease and then rocked the stage like only a drag queen can. Lovely.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Black Lips were up next and this was gonna be my fifth time seeing these miscreants. Gone are the days of shambolic sets. Maybe it was the months-long trek around Europe, but these young guns have developed into a tight and powerful live band. Still plenty of chaos in the air, bodies gyratin, beer flyin, dudes smoochin. Like the kids say, “This is rock n’ roll.” They played a lot of stuff off the received-that-day ‘Let It Bloom’ and some nuggets from ‘…Forest Spirit…’ I think they ended the set with their hurricane ode, “O Katrina,” which needs a release, pronto, cuz it’s been stuck in my head and I need some relief (pun intended?). Psychedelics were exchanged for a personal copy of the not-for-sale LP and some dude was pissed I had one, even though I tried to tuck it under my jacket. Sorry, guy, come prepared next time! The traveling revue came back to the homestead and drinks were drained, grass inhaled, maybe something ended up in someone’s nose. “Hey,” I think I thought, “we’re off to a good start.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Friday started slow. Lingered in bed with that half-sleep you get after a head-pounding good time has been drained out of you via salty pissings and hacking lungs. Legs shuffled, food took its good old time getting from plate to mouth, mouth moved like molasses, words stuck in the air. Groan. More rock n’ roll coming right up!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="Holy Shit this guy is skinny!" height="300px;" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/WcnPMCZagxORzIE1eZmSRARJv6r3r20pMEz_TkMI8I5dve-9SCdf6aIG61zs3IKjwC1wIV1zqnK_SwJhROTdom1PI6dxOLXeDE7goRbPFZ68lta_xADOLtYeUcF65scGoX5kFQNv" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="226px;" /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Friday’s show was at The Blacklist Art Gallery, a stand alone building on the West Bank of the Flats, where the Cuyahoga runs through. This area used to be bustling decades ago, when the Erie Canal system was running full steam. It’s an interesting landscape, especially as a back drop for a punk show. Kinda desolate and raw, moving bridges, broken bottles. The gallery itself had hosted a few shows and friends had made it seem small. So I was surprised to walk in, up some stairs, and then come out to a huge, cavernous room, two stories, with a few side rooms. The ceilings looked to be about fifty feet, so it felt very open, despite the throngs of punks milling about. Oddly enough, this seemed to be the best-attended show of the weekend. A good 200 people appeared to be there. Because of the aforementioned slow start and an extremely necessary detour for a bottle of Jameson, once again we were late to the party. The crowd was abuzz with the performances of Shoot It Up and Holy Shit!, two bands I wanted to see. So, a good half hour of meeting and greeting and sharing and swigging and lots of, “Did you see Holy Shit!?” “No.” “Dude, they were fucking awesome!” Yeah yeah yeah. Well, Rat Traps were setting up and I thought, “This could be a pleasant set of garage rock.” Zap! No! I was completely unprepared for the venomous hate-raunch that began spewing from the stage, the young Jeffrey Novak pounding the drums and still screaming his head off, sister April on guitar and vocals, and Joe on same, real Southern inhospitable fuck you dirt-punk. On one song (“Tennesee Rock and Roll”, maybe?), April dropped the guitar, grabbed the mic and just started screaming in people’s faces. Yeah! I was starting to wake up finally. But then I got sucked in again, wandering around, giving people pulls (of whiskey, smart-ass), and fielding too many questions of, “Hey man, you got any? You know where any?” Yes, no, maybe. I started feeling like walls were closing in, too much disconnection. A nice walk behind some abandoned factories, a good long piss, and a fat sticky joint, and I was ready for more.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Wolfdowners are Clevo hardcore dudes transplanted to NYC and doing something weirder for sure; almost old-school noisy punk rock in a Flipper vein, or something. Shit, I remember they had a sax and were kind of grinding away on these dark songs. I dug it. Later I heard one of the dudes from Fashion Fashion and The Image Boys pulled the plug on ‘em, power down to zero, but I guess I was too oblivious to notice. Couldn’t give you the details, but that is pretty fucking funny. I will stop to mention that the sound was really good for the most part; I think Lean Steve was in charge and hats off, sir. Next was either Clockcleaner or the Blowtops. I was jawin too hard and didn’t pay as much attention as I should have, but I know Big and Filthy Rich would have these folks sewn up, probably writing it in his head as he watched like a good journalist, so I eased back on the meticulous notes I was taking and decided to clock out for awhile. I do remember kind of zombie-walking around the floor when Blowtops were playing and bumped into someone and was surprised to turn and see it was the singer. He seemed to be half-wrestling a “fan,”, there were a couple dudes on the floor rolling around, and I didn’t really know what was going on. His band was laying down the soundtrack to my earlier walk and I couldn’t put two and two together and I was losing the thread. Maybe I was just too fixated on the dude’s homemade Big Black leather jacket, which might have trumped Timmy Vulgar’s homemade Negative Trend jacket in the Cool Jacket Contest.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="Thommy Hawk's ridiculous outfit" height="300px;" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/_27bmH7UaSAiSRWBhG0ZLFMTFei61bCX4oqvRjXey-fHXp_FyJkt-BvO66xD6QAjXDthsWbQ8p4OdoQyWEnDCbUdtSiO7JAXxtxe6v1kgrfnJMAFCurGCNXmh0Yuv_M2d28-kF6r" style="-webkit-transform: rotate(0.00rad); border: none; transform: rotate(0.00rad);" width="226px;" /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">OK, time to focus. Human Eye was up next and I knew for a fact that bass player Thommy Hawk was going to be sporting a ridiculous outfit, which is always a good start to any rock ‘n roll performance. It was his homemade Halloween costume: a character from ‘The Warriors.’ And let’s run with that cuz we can: Human Eye is like a gang from ‘The Warriors.’ No, even better: A group of freelance psychos wandering the post-collapse metro wasteland of ‘Escape From New York.’ No, ‘Beneath The Planet of the Apes.’ OK, they are merely one of the country’s premier edge-cutting punk bands and they brought it, harder and faster than I’d seen ‘em do it yet. Drummer Billy Hafer was on fucking fire, pushing the band hard. His playing seems to get looser, louder, and more explosive every time I see them. The crowd seemed entranced, maybe just really fucking drunk, or maybe it was cuz I was really fucking drunk. Regardless, spontaneous fits of dancing were breaking out and people were rocking. The high ceilings really leant themselves to the ping-ponging effects and splatter-guitar of Human Eye, sounding not unlike a hall of mirrors getting smashed. They played some new song that Thommy told me the name of, but I forget. I remember it being more methodical and deliberate, hanging on a repetitive guitar hook. The show was over and I thought that I was gonna be taking the full brunt of a combined Human Eye/Functional Blackouts attack/invasion, in other words, sleeping on the floor and various nooks and crannies in my small Ohio Shitty bungalow. But, the dudes minus Thommy headed back to Detroit and only half the Blackouts were yet in Cleave, so we just had a small get together; afternoon tea really. Tomorrow was gonna be a long one, plus I had to work, yippee.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Saturday began with a day show at Moe’s, an “under new ownership” bar in the no-man’s land of downtown Cleave. Moe’s had already had a few shows, including The Regulations, so the punks were starting to mark some territory. Walking up to the spot at 3 PM on a sunny day, not a care in the world, and we’re hit with looks of shock and awe before we even step foot in the joint. Yes, we had missed the infamous Rot Shit eel-throwing incident. I thought it sounded like great fun, but the owners of the bar didn’t agree and almost put the kibosh on the daytime festivities before they had barely begun. Thankfully, they were talked down from the ledge and the show went on. Some people seemed genuinely pissed at the Pittsburgh punks, which I thought was hilarious cuz they were all kinda small and cute and young. So what if they got something to prove? Maybe they just proved it. I don’t remember much about Fashion Fashion and the Image Boys except they played too fuckin long. Vaguely KBD, vaguely new-school version of good ol’ fashioned snot-punk, vaguely OK, vaguely vague. Admittedly I was pretty hazed. I did see the goofy-ass bass player pop a piece of psilocybin in his mouth whilst sitting at the bar, so maybe that accounted for their epic set. Just gave me a headache mainly. River City Tanlines were after that and they did a nice set of pretty straight-up rock and roll. Works for me. Cider and Kill The Hippies were coming up, but it was getting late and there were things to do and the show at the Beachland was starting early. Hell, I kept on trying to forget that I actually had to work that night. Yup, slugging beer for all the broke-ass punks. Across one room, up a flight of stairs, through the kitchen and then fighting my way through angry dudes and crazy chicks. There are worse ways to earn a buck, I guess. Plus I can drink and walk around and enjoy the show. So, I did.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #f3f3f3; font-family: "georgia"; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Krunchies started off with a bang, flailing and spazzing their way through their electroshock punk anthems. Functional Blackouts came on and blitzed the crowd with some new songs of vicous hatecore. They sound like what getting shanked in prison must feel like. Or maybe just the fried-nerve anticipation of getting shanked. Dreading every mealtime. Unfortunately, the sound was not in the FBs favor, or any of the bands that night. The ballroom at the Beachland, where this final night took place, can be a tricky proposition with the sound. Sometimes it sounds fantastic, sometimes utter shit. The latter was holding true on this night. Part of the reason, in my humble opinion, is that most sound guys don’t know how to mix the kinds of punk rock that most of the bands were playing. Essentially, lots of volume on the guitars, turn up the vocals, but not where they are louder than the music, make sure the drums are crisp, and the bass bouncy, not muddy. Instead, you get metal-style drum mixes (HUGE kick drum), guitars that sound like dentist drills (but not in a good way), buried vocals, and flat, farty bass. It wasn’t helping anyone. The order is escaping me now, but I know that The Feelers rocked hard, careening around the (high) stage, totally in their element. Cuntpuppet was dumb as shit so I chose to stock the beer deep while they played and missed one of them running into the crowd after some heckling skinheads. Now that’s entertainment. Definitely funnier than mic stands and guitars with Busch cans all over them. Or cowboy hats and sub-ZZ Top “classic” rock. Supposedly they’re serious, but only if you spell serious “k i t s c h .” Upstab did their thing, which is not my thing, but certainly provided a flash of danger as the singer hurled himself off the stage brandishing a heavy chain that he slammed on the hardwood floor. OK, OK, you guys are alright. Damn, them Erbas mean business. I was stoked for the Catholic Boys cuz they were one of the few bands I hadn’t seen that I really dig. They didn’t disappoint. Super-tight instrumental interplay like very few punk bands can pull off, almost math-rock in the way they interlock then break apart again, but at the service of really fucking sweet songs full of cool twists and sharp turns, ie. hooks. They played the hits off of ‘Psychic Voodoo Mind Control’ and some friends who wandered over from the show next door asked me, “Who is this?!?” Catholic Boys! By this point, the energy in the sparse crowd was starting to wane, hell it had been a long weekend, but people stuck around for the “big draw,” The Jabbers with Wimpy, original singer of the Queers, standing in for the Geege. I like the old Jabbers stuff, but found this set to be pretty lame. Let them try to regain past glories, what the fuck do I care, I got beer to stock. It was kind of a dud ending to a great weekend though.</span></div>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-15997695455871094512015-04-30T14:04:00.000-07:002015-05-01T16:17:57.191-07:00SUPER NEW REVIEWS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">BLAXXX</span> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">For No Apparent Reason </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">12” EP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">We pick up the action as our hero Bim Nox teams up with the power source of Austin’s OBN IIIs to fight rock n’ roll crimes with proto-punk powers bestowed upon them by the mysterious Gods Of Ohio/Michigan Underground Axis……</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">*jam already in progress*</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">........”Blaxxx” eases you in under a cloud of sativa smoke, sax squeals and bourbon burps, eventually drifting into a song-like form that is probably close to what happened when Seger went to ball and his band was left with the keys to the recording studio and a stocked liquor cabinet. “Cut Em Down” is the prime cut from this impromptu session, a full-bore Detroit smackdown as if Mick Collins stopped by to drop some knowledge at a Puffy Areolas hotboxing marathon. Flip it over and “Let Me Hold Your Hand” opens with Bim ranting about idiots at SXSW and asking for your cash to make more of what follows -- big, lumbering phased-out blues sludge that has more in common with Groundhogs, Sonic’s Rendezvous Band -- hell Edgar Broughton Band -- than any prepared ground beef in a bun. There are a lot of bands trying to access this same level of heavy fug and Blaxxx upstage most of them in one hazy afternoon. Imagine what they could do with </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">three whole days</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. The mind boggles.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[12XU; put you in a corner put you in a corner oh no no no] </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">CHRIS BROKAW</span> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Periscope Twins </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">2xLP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">My main exposure to Chris Brokaw was as guitar-slinger in Come, and he was also in Clint Conley’s underrated post-MOB reformation band Consonant. Beantown royalty. But he’s journeyed far and wide since before and after those days. Now he’s in Seattle where he laid down these live-to-tape improvs, two 45-minute hermetically-sealed drone/blast brownouts. The first 12” is all sputtering, crackling, grinding sounds of indeterminate origin (“electronics”). You can sense the tronic base, but the sounds are tactile and industrial in the literal sense of the word. You could probably pass this off as a Haters record if so inclined (hey people are weird). Not a whole lot happens but it’s more about immersion into this close-mic’d world than any sense of narrative or drama. The second side takes a swing up into higher-pitched territory, utilizing piercing drones that sound like they are being squeezed thru a Boss DD-3 with a fading battery. Man, I miss my DD-3. I actually have a tape of myself doing something similar back in 2000 in the front room of my row house in Cleveland, Ohio. I just wrote that to remind myself to find it in the box of tapes I can see out of the corner of my eye. Given that this is one long jam it naturally kind of peters out then rallies, but the first side is definitely the more interesting of the two. As for the second 12”, here Brokaw straps on his trusty geetar and makes like Neil Young making like </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dead Man</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. My favorite guy at this kinda thing is Roy Montgomery, and nothing here approaches his kind of mastery, but its a pleasant drift out into the ocean, nevertheless.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">CCR HEADCLEANER</span> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cokesmoker </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">12”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Damn fine fried bad-trip rock music by and for dirtbags. Give yrself a Royal Trux jamming with Monoshock wedgie and at least your underwear and poop chute will be closer to understanding. Reigning on the kingly format (12” 45 rpm), the bass is real fat and thick *insert marijuana pun here* and the guitars trip all over themselves in an effort to out-nod-out the others and the real winner in that equation is you, the Listener. Congrats, it’s all downhill from here (your life that is). But seriously, Don Hill, this toad-lick of an EP is the best Trux damage since that Circle Pit album (and not nearly as slavish), and here we’re talkin’ </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cats and Dogs</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> with a whammy jam jones. There’s more than a hint of a drunk-ass Spacemen 3 in them thar Hills. Side B starts out with a bongfire singalong then it dives into a black hole with disembodied voices calling out from the beyond and then it gets all Morton Subotnick on that ass and then Lenny Bruce or someone is making people laugh and then there’s a bad-ass reprise of the biker-psych from Side A and at this point you’re probably wondering if this record will show up on the theoretical Best of 2015 thinkpiece I probably won’t write, and the answer is…………..GOOD FUCKING CHANCE!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Stale Heat/Pollen Season; </span><a href="http://staleheat.tumblr.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://staleheat.tumblr.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">DAY CREEPER</span> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Central States </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Based on </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Central States</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">, Day Creeper’s 2nd LP, last year’s Ipps album and their upcoming releases, Superdreamer appears to be the new standard-bearer of Columbus’ storied indie pedigree. Day Creeper are the kind of no-frills indie rock band that every town needs. They are as comfortable plowing straight through you as they are reflecting on where it all went wrong. I guarantee people get wasted and bump uglies on nights they play shows. Take the ragged glory of The Replacements and temper it with the forward rush of prime Superchunk. “Luxury Condominium” is the hit here, a nice ironic anthem that is a screw you to the nu-yuppie hordes. Main Creep Aaron Troyer’s singing is a bit flat (not one of the better indie hallmarks), so it’s nice when bassist Laura B. steps up to add some color to the palette. If you came of age in the ‘90s, this sound is like chicken soup for the soul, and no one does it better than Columbus.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[SuperDreamer/Heel Turn; </span><a href="http://www.superdreamerrecordsmain.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.superdreamerrecordsmain.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">THE PEN TEST</span> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Interstate </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Two smart guys go all-in on a homage to “Autobahn” and you might be surprised at just how good it is. It’s kind of impossible not to examine the sidelong “Interstate” through the lens of the Kraftwerk classic, but this does not necessarily diminish it. I think The Pen Test hail from Minneapolis, so they are no stranger to long drives on endless roads, monochrome horizon whizzing past. That being said, there is more than enough derivation in this re-imagining so that you let go of the conceit rather quick. With its heartbeats and ticking counters, “Interstate” is actually almost more like something off of </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Radio-activity</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> (the most underrated of KW LPs?). It goes pretty deep, as you end up traveling the spaceways instead of some terrestrial route. Any way you slice it, it is an excellent piece of music and works at home or on the road. Functional tunes. Side two does present a few speed bumps however. “Za-Zen” is a great start, introducing chanted vocals much like our fave showroom dummies. A track like this makes you realize how thin and empty the majority of synthesizer music ends up; The Pen Test are really hitting a groove here, and it’s far more blissful than a lot of their peers. But then they follow it up with a kind of ridiculous early Ministry-like cut called “Like Machine.” Fortunately, it’s brief. Then it’s back to the werks of kraftmanship, “Geo” really nailing that pulse-racing aspect of “Autobahn,” BPMs matching a cocaine rhythm that Moroder would be pleased with. Who knew Dub Narcotic Studios (where this was recorded) could get so, oh wait….yeah, narcotic. OK you got me. “Great Eroder” takes another stab at Wax Trax-tion and again, it’s not really bad per se, but I don’t really wanna hear it. Sounds like a super-goofy version of shit I had to hear way too much of as a young’un. But those other trax, they werk like a narcotic.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">One of my more-stalked bandcamp artists, I finally got my hands on some Q(...) wax. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dead September </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">is their third album and maintains their high level of quality. I say “their,” but I recently found out that Q-paaq is essentially the work of one man, Matthew Turner. Coulda fooled me! It really sounds like a band, or at least multiple people collaborating, which is just a testament to the skill and organic weirdness on display. Q-paaq conjure thoughts of no less than my beloved (and woefully underrated in the States) Terminal Cheesecake, a blunted-out group of Butthole Surfers-gone-Middle Eastern electro-dub speed-freaks. Q-paaq have a similar sense of throwing everything into the pot and stoking it til it boils over. On the first side there is a near-constant slather of noise and slurred vocals, as if Jesus & Mary Chain had never heard the Beach Boys. “White Witch” straps in for a Suicide ride, but the record really starts to cook when we get to “Dead Birds” which leans on a Chrome’d-out riff/groove that slunks around til a tidal wave of static eventually overwhelms it. “Lifestyles USSR” leads off side two with a journey into the dark heart of grinding loops and anti-gravity fuzz. “Spine Tree” introduces a submerged techno pulse beneath the miasma. Buy this record, grab a severed head full of drugs and stuff yourself into the garbage can. You’re gonna like the way you look. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Rural Isolation Project; </span><a href="https://quttinirpaaq.bandcamp.com/music" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://quttinirpaaq.bandcamp.com/music</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Here we have some solid (read that as “non-flashy”) Midwestern Milwaukee rock that drinks deep at the well of Mudhoney, and that will probably always be a positive thing in my book. Slow Walker know how to work out a quality riff and also show increasingly rare dexterity on the wah pedal. They’re able to floor it or pull it back for breakdowns or psych-outs. Even when they drop the fuzz on the ‘60s garage of “Never Comin’ Back” they get it done, although the Cheater Slicks-y “Desperation” demonstrates their youth to their detriment. Give it a few more years in the bar, fellas, you’ll get there soon enough. This is a fine debut; Slow Walker write good rock n’ roll songs and take the time to play and record them with conviction and that’s still a thing we need in this world.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Stale Heat; </span><a href="http://staleheat.tumblr.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://staleheat.tumblr.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: x-large; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">SOMA COMA</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dust </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">12”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Melbourne slobbercore that sounds like what I imagine Death Dust Extractor does by their name alone. Imaginecore. There’s also a sizeable Crazy Spirit influence present thereby splicing a mutated rock n’ roll gene into Soma Coma’s heavily Jap-indebted Pusheadian thrash. “Area Boys” even -- </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">jeepers creepers </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">-- swings before its inevitable rush to climax. Can’t expect such young folk to show restraint and patience; that kind of lovemaking evolves along with its maker. Punk is the same. Sort of. Cool Death (name nicked from a Crazy Spirit song, natch) has been putting out some weird hardcore that is resonating with weird hardcore types. Are you one of these types? You’ll probably dig this record. The drumming is punchy and snappy and not relegated to just d-beating itself around a bush. But still, it’s in that vein of that thing. Skulls. and shit. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Cool Death; </span><a href="http://cooldeathrecords.bigcartel.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://cooldeathrecords.bigcartel.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">] </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2554" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">TOUPEE’</span> </span><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Leg Toucher </span><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2482" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Interesting
and intense Chicago band with a grody name. Reports have leaked out of
the Windy City about these folks, implying that they were one of the
hidden treasures of the Chicago scene. Well, the secret is out with this
debut on the reliable Moniker Records. To Toupee’s credit, it’s hard to
nail them down to a particular sound or subgenre. They are without
doubt a noisy rock band, but they don’t attempt to adhere to any
particular playbook. The most striking songs on </span><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2526" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Leg Toucher</span><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2484" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
(“Glitter Roach,” “Come Back To Camp” ) pair tightly-coiled unnerving
post-punk with the singer’s blood-curdling banshee shriek. At times, I
am reminded of Atlanta’s Dasher, another fierce band who ignore and
explode genre conventions. “Gramma In The Slamma” though, might be the
cream of this particular crop, as the band operates in a less harsh
realm, making like Sonic Youth as the singer -- they have stupid
nicknames that I don’t have the patience to suss -- keens about. Despite
all that, the off-kilter pop rant of “School” is the one that grabs me
tightest. It sounds like smoking a joint in the high school parking lot,
gazing up at the sky and wishing you were anywhere but here.
“Constrictor” seems like a breather until it morphs into a shivery
Siouxsie & The Banshees coda. “Water Torture” closes out the album
with an Unwound-like squall/calm/squall.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Moniker; </span><a class="" href="http://www.moniker-records.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.moniker-records.com/</span></a><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">XETAS </span> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Redeemer </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Xetas are an Austin TX trio who have ambitions beyond your typical local rock band. This debut LP follows their well-received (that’s official talk for I liked it) 7” from last year, and while </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Redeemer </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">sports a titling scheme, we’ll let ‘em slide on that. The Xetas rock it mighty hard -- “The Fake” juxtaposes a hammering riff with harmonic vocals in the manner that Jawbox used to excel at. “The Butcher” closes out the first side with authority; for some reason I’m having this image of Shearing Pinx covering an Arcwelder song. No, seriously, it works! “The Ashes” leads off side two with Def Leppard-meets-Husker Du riffing and ends up in the same territory as Nervosas. “The Tether” is probably the best Lost Sounds song that’s been written in at least a decade. “The King” is the ripper with an opening riff that could have come out of the Effigies. Xetas give off a vibe that is far more serious than your average underground rock band in these ostrich-like times. They are tight, professional, well-plotted. It’s refreshing as everyone seems in a competition to see who gives less of a shit. (I do, so fuck you!) Umm, nah, not really. Xetas are not an “Umm” band. They are intent and intense -- “The Line” is almost painfully earnest but still convincing in its rockness. “The Deep” ends things like a threat, guy and gal screaming over Melvins riffs/changes. What’s that you say, Xetas? “Get in the van.” Umm.</span></span></span></div>
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<u> <b><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">7"</span></span></b></u></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">BRANDO’S ISLAND</span> 7”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">In theory, this is something a guy like me would enjoy. Synth punk with ranting vocals and xylophone? But I’m just not vibing *chortle* with this effort. “Autism Vision” starts out spazzy but then Segways *cackle* into a poor imitation of Total Control. “Auto Warfare” has more agitated vox and annoying vibe-trills, but then the second half is straight Troubleman post-punk pre-electroclash and that’s a road that I never really condoned in the first place. There’s def a bit of a early 2000s Load(scrubbed clean)/T-man kinda thing going on, and while I wanna like it (members here of Zingers whose LP is pretty great esp. if you like Arab On Radar), this debut single falls flat. Look, it’s no Gerty Farish. But I’m keeping an eye on.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Million Dollar; </span><a href="http://milliondollarrecs.blogspot.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://milliondollarrecs.blogspot.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">MYSTIC INANE</span> 7”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Eggs Onna Plate” has a funny video that you should watch at least once. As a song, it’s pretty good, but Mystic Inane has better stuff. I saw em play most of it live. “Polite Society” is straight offa </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Not So Quiet…</span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> and has a cool fuck you woozy aspect to it. “Manhood” throws a pinch of boogie spice into the mutant hardcore stomp -- not unlike Brown Sugar recently did -- and I think it’s the winner on here. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Lumpy; </span><a href="http://spottedrace.bigcartel.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://spottedrace.bigcartel.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I’m not even sure why I’m reviewing this --almost positive it’s a boot -- but I was wearing out mp3s of this 4-song killer, the only record by Florida’s SS. Originally released on 12” in 1982, here it gets compacted into a 33 rpm 7” but I don’t have 200+ bucks to drop on this baby, so I’ll take it where I can get it. The overall sonics of this version is a little dodgy (sounds like a combo of source + pressing), but serviceable. As for the music, “Violent Days” is an insta-classic, a rush of almost-metallic guitars coupled with Lisa Nash’s siren-clear vocals. This is what Pat Benatar should’ve sounded like (granted I still like Pat Benatar anyway). It’s tough, it’s melodic, it’s punk. “Grin and Bear” is nearly Batcave, perfect for any ‘80s night, or maybe an early Van Damme ass-kicker’s romantic scene. Believe it or not, I’m trying to say that it’s great. You could back this up with “Kids In America” or “99 Luftballoons.” Damn these pops are getting to me though. The B-side repeats the formula with a fast, punky number (“I Can’t Help It” originally by fellow FLA punks The Reactions) followed by a moody slow burn. Even though “Reflections” speeds up it still reeks of cigarette smoke, dusted mirrors and ripped up clothes. Listening to a song like this (and taking a gander at pics of Nash) and you wonder why Screaming Sneakers weren’t huge. Punk is weird (and great and tragic) like that. Who knows, a couple more years and a snappy video and Screaming Sneakers might be on their sold-out reunion tour right now. I know that there were some sort of shenanigans with Billy Idol and Johnny Depp but fuck all that; y’know what sounds like the best show ever? Screaming Sneakers/Dishrags/The Curse. and fuckit, Slant 6 too, we’re already in fantasyland. and Nasty Facts, definitely Nasty Facts.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2570" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">SEWERS</span> “</span><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2571" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Chain of Command” b/w “Life’s A Boar” 7”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2569" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Hoisted</span><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2525" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">,
Sewers’ 2013 debut, was an overlooked trawl through the gutter that
invoked King Snake Roost as patron saint, and evoked Killdozer and
Country Teasers in equal measure. In anticipation of </span><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Weight</span><span class="" id="yui_3_16_0_1_1430508237832_2523" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">,
their full-length follow-up on Homeless, upstart Brisbane (Sewers’
hometown) label Tenth Court gives us this brief taste of raw sewage. “Chain of
Command” is one of their faster numbers, convincingly thug-like, which
is to say convincingly cop-like. “I got your badge/I got your number”
growls singer Shan Corrigan. It’s full of junk, but it’s got plenty of
hooks piled on top of each other. No let up on the flip, so keep your
eyes peeled for the new LP in June and a full US tour in July.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Tenth Court; </span><a class="" href="https://tenthcourt.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://tenthcourt.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span class="" style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">THIGH MASTER</span> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Songs To Wipe Your Mouth To </span><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">7” EP</span></span></span></div>
<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I really dug Thigh Master’s debut single last year, but unfortunately this one falls slightly short of that standard. “Flat City” on the A is the best song here; “Red Worms” on the flip is a moody meander, but just a slight dip in quality really -- looking forward to see what they can do with a longer format. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Tenth Court; </span><a href="https://tenthcourt.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://tenthcourt.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black;"><span style="color: white;">cassettes coming soon...</span></span></div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-62989212163367732072015-01-31T15:07:00.000-08:002015-02-01T18:08:40.516-08:00MRR hearts CYANIDE TOOTH<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewtssugsSRD_NeLWZ0lVCq2n5nniU8eiHtwqjflpyYWK5oadMhyxck_so9CKQUVuQbEAfXNBTh5dJoBH6SMdo0Ufl2Q1Ab6k-S9rhgq1ZvPXBjSTdQGFL3TyiqiR4URlH2oSiZaV48zn9/s1600/CT-MRRreview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgewtssugsSRD_NeLWZ0lVCq2n5nniU8eiHtwqjflpyYWK5oadMhyxck_so9CKQUVuQbEAfXNBTh5dJoBH6SMdo0Ufl2Q1Ab6k-S9rhgq1ZvPXBjSTdQGFL3TyiqiR4URlH2oSiZaV48zn9/s1600/CT-MRRreview.jpg" height="320" width="280" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><a href="https://evernever-records.bandcamp.com/album/the-whole-tooth-nothing-but"><span style="font-size: large;">https://evernever-records.bandcamp.com/album/the-whole-tooth-nothing-but</span></a></span><br />
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/goog_1543391269"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></a>
<a href="https://cyanidetooth.bandcamp.com/"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">https://cyanidetooth.bandcamp.com/</span></span></a></div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-39315995914442691862015-01-28T13:13:00.001-08:002015-02-03T19:40:52.992-08:00OBNOX<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: red;"><strike><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">OBNOX</span></span></b></strike></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Boogalou Reed </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Juke That Sat By The Door </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">12” EP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">First things first -- if you haven’t partaken of the scathing satire that is 1973 “blaxxxploitation” (not really at all) classic </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Spook Who Sat By The Door</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">, then correct that pronto. Great flick, with a soundtrack by Herbie Hancock. Bim throws out a lot of hidden references amongst all the punny titles, so it’s worth paying attention beyond the quick laugh. Bim also loves his radio, so the fuzzbanger on the A is “All Hail The Deejay,” followed by the stoned-to-the-bone “Sit Yo Ass Down.” On the flip, “(Do) The Clap” sounds like an early Oblivians tune pan-seared with another few layers of grime, garlic and scuzz. That ain’t fuzz on your needle, holmes, that’s a dance party happening beneath the planet’s crust.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I know this has become a common refrain, but Obnox’s brand new LP </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Boogalou Reed </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">might just be his best yet. Like last year’s much-heralded </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Louder Space</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Boogalou</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> was recorded and mastered for maximum damage. The bass detonations on “Slaughter Culture” are positively subatomic. I would kill to hear these breaking up from a clown-ish car stereo system in the hood or a similarly clowny rave party in the woods. Right before that beast of a cut, Obnox slips in what is my favorite song of this young year, and will surely near the top eleven months from now. “Cynthia Piper At The Gates Of Dawn” connects with me on all levels: cascading amounts of fuzz, an unstoppable chorus (echoed later appropriately in “Marinol”), and it’s about smoking grass (a personal Top 5 life activity) with one of my favorite people in all of Cuyahoga County, Ms. Piper. Cynthia is an old-school head and has seen more cool bands than any one of us. Any time I booked a show in Cleveland, if Cynthia was there, I knew it was worth it. “Cynthia Piper…” also encapsulates one of the things that makes Obnox great -- Bim’s knack for using the people and places around him as inspiration. It’s already well-documented about Bim’s employment of local Clevo (and Columbo) musicians to help him achieve his vision. Why fake a guitar solo when you can get Fuzzhead maestro Bill Weita to play it better and weirder? Need some beats? Plenty of hip-hop crews in the 216. Does this cut need some fucked-up sonic steroids pumped into it? Adam Smith’s got yr back. At a loss for what this song could be about? Make it about a friend, tell the truth while injecting a larger than life aspect. And speaking of things Bim knows quite well, after the bomb-blasts of “Slaughter Culture,” we get “Too Punk Shakur,” perhaps the most melodic and straight-ahead Obnox punk song yet. There’s no question that, at least sonically, “Too Punk” is a loveletter to Gaunt and New Bomb Turks. It’s got a Turks vocal line coupled with in-the-red Gaunt basement damage. Accordingly, it makes me feel like a teenager again. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Four songs in, and we’re talking Record of the Year material here. The title cut solidifies something I’ve been toying with -- when Obnox does these unclassifiable beat/fuzz jams, almost like a (gulp) garage rock/trip-hop hybrid, he’s getting to a similar space as the Beastie Boys circa </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Check Your Head</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. Think about it: “So Whatcha Want” could be on an Obnox record and you'd just be all, “Yo this jam is sick.” Hell, there’s even a second here and there that sounds like Tricky (fo' real). But on “Situation,” the real influence is classic ‘70s soul, cozy blanket of noise added gratis. First side closes out with a version of “Ohio” that Crazy Horse probably wouldn’t even touch. Although side two yields fewer highlights, there is no dip in quality. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Juke</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">’s “All Hail The DJ” gets cleaned up slightly and the whole mess collapses into “Protopipe,” an “LA Blues”-style freak-out. Super duper record, and only the first of three (3) 'Nox full-lengths of 2015 A.D.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">EP = Chunklet / LP = 12XU</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://chunklet.com/" target="_blank">http://www.chunklet.com/ </a><br /><a href="http://12xu.net/">http://12xu.net/</a></span> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">'Used Kids’ 7”</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A multi-part epic about a fine record store situated in a
town called Columbus, Ohio. For the strange year-plus I lived in
Cowtown, I used to sell records to the Cheater Slicks’ Tom Shannon for
food. I always felt like he was giving me the “poor bastard” eye. Aye. I
used to find great shit there on the cheap too. Everyone did. One time,
Jerry Wick lent me a shitty Chuck Eddy book (“Here, read this, it’ll
piss you off”) and when I brought it back, I found out it wasn’t even
his. “Typical Wick,” was what Ron House said. Bim cut his teeth in this
milieu and he has thrown everything he learned in Columbus basements and
attics into Obnox. It’s the secret ingredient. Two parts Cleveland, one
part Columbus. Or maybe the other way around. This record was recorded
in Cleveland (ye olde Black Eye) and mixed in Columbus. The guest
musicians are Ohio vets (Fuzzheads and Pere Ubus and mores) and there’s
an adorable pic of young Lamont on the cover. Not sold yet? The music is
a dense fug of guitars, sax and abused drums. Bim calls it “child
psych.” New genres are born every day. [12XU</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Corrupt Free Enterprise </i>2xLP </span> </b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Obnox
is on a tear. Based on <i>Corrupt Free
Enterprise, </i>‘Nox’s ninth and most ambitious joint to date, Lamont “Bim”
Thomas -- who, for all intents and purposes, <i>is</i> Obnox -- is just getting warmed up. From a foundation of dirt-level
garage punk, Thomas sculpts deep cuts out of blown-out beats, redline guitar
damage, and sneering yet soulful singing, like if your local gospel choir was
raised on a steady diet of The Pagans and <i>Back
From the Grave</i> comps. “Ciara” soars, “When Will I See You” aches, Cheater
Slicks cover “Ghost” points to a key influence, while “Deep in the Dusk” is
like a Rust Belt Freestyle Fellowship. Obnox is on fire, and you’d be wise to
look toward the light. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">[1-2-X-U]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;"><u>originally appeared in High Times mag</u></span> </span></span><br />
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-48630254401696608532015-01-27T14:33:00.002-08:002015-02-01T17:50:16.373-08:00CYANIDE TOOTH in THE WIRE by BYRON COLEY<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://evernever-records.bandcamp.com/album/the-whole-tooth-nothing-but">https://evernever-records.bandcamp.com/album/the-whole-tooth-nothing-but</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://evernever.bigcartel.com/product/cyanide-tooth-the-whole-tooth-nothing-but">http://evernever.bigcartel.com/product/cyanide-tooth-the-whole-tooth-nothing-but</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://cyanidetooth.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">http://cyanidetooth.tumblr.com/</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://cyanidetooth.bandcamp.com/album/this-is-your-last-chance">https://cyanidetooth.bandcamp.com/album/this-is-your-last-chance</a> </span><br />
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-44533287190979376112015-01-27T13:17:00.004-08:002015-02-01T23:16:50.051-08:00SCENE & HERD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">X__X </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">CELLULAR CHAOS </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">ANDERSON/CHASE/HOFFMAN trio SEDIMENT CLUB</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">@ Cake Shop</span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Thursday, Dec 4th</span></span> </span></span></span> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Van Gogh never got his due; while he was alive, at least. Neither did William Blake. Poe died penniless. There was a time when it seemed that one John D. Morton was destined to follow in such tragic footsteps. Following his muse for the last forty-odd years has led Morton down some dark alleys, but score one for the freaks -- and maybe the internet -- because, against all odds, Morton, professional artist and shit-stirrer, is finally getting his due. The man hasn’t met a convention he hasn’t mocked, or a rule he hasn’t kicked in the ribs til it broke. If they handed out MacArthur Genius grants for misanthropy, Morton would be short-listed.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Morton’s main claim to fame is his mid-’70s Cleveland band of nihilistic rock n’ roll lowlifes, electric eels. The eels plied their trade surrounded by post-industrial strife, the crumbling landscape providing inspiration -- and a reason to get the hell out. But before Morton pulled up stakes for New York City, he made one more attempt to give Cleveland the soundtrack it deserved. X__X terrorized the city’s punk scene with a smart and muscular take on no wave, which Morton had already prefigured with the eels. X__X were more “musical” than the eels, as evidenced by their two singles, collected, along with unreleased and live material, on this year’s essential </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">XStickyFingersX</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> (Ektro). This past Thursday, X__X played the Cake Shop and proved, beyond a doubt, that you’re never too old to smash yer art into yer punk and vice versa. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The set started off a bit shaky, but after a too-quiet run-through of “You’re Full of Shit,” guitars were turned up to their proper volume and the band roared to life. Grinding versions of art-puke classics like “No Nonsense,” “A.” and “No No” followed, hammered out with conviction by Morton’s cohorts -- original member Andrew Klimek, Rocket From the Tombs’ Craig Bell and drummer Matt Harris. At one point, Morton whipped out an electric saw and used it to systematically sever a length of bamboo. Why? Why the hell not? The band crashed back into their set as if it had been a tuning break. Speaking of tuning, Morton’s other obscuro Clevo outfit, Johnny & The Dicks, didn’t bother, as they posed in rock-out freeze-frames while a friend snapped photos. Prescient as ever, it seems Morton invented “vogue-ing” years before Madonna. A reprise of “No Non cents” had the crowd howling for more, and during the set-ending anti-anthem “Cleveland Sucks,” even Morton, high priest of fuck you, couldn’t suppress a smile. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Due to a rip in the time/space continuum, your correspondent missed the first two acts of an all-around excellent bill, but we did manage to catch spazz experts Cellular Chaos. Conducted by the tireless, irrepressible Weasel Walter and finding a voice within the charismatic Admiral Grey, Cellular Chaos flirts with no wave shred, but just as often reaches an MX-80 Sound level of density. Invigorating stuff.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>DEVO </b> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><b>@ Best Buy Theater</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>6/19/14</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Some forty-odd years ago, the men known as Devo began
concocting their strange music in a moldy basement in Akron, Ohio. A little
over twenty years ago these early experiments were made available to the
listening public via the <i>Hardcore Devo</i>
collections. Reissued last year by Superior Viaduct, the two volumes of
pre-Warners Bros. Devo have been rightfully hailed as visionary examples of
prime proto-punk. To honor recently passed founding member Bob Mothersbaugh
(aka Bob2) and raise money for his family, Devo decided to embark upon a ten
city tour performing, for the first time ever, the material from their
gestational years of 1974 to 1977. </span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As show time approached, you had to wonder – did the aging
spuds still have it? Would they be able to do justice to the freakish, funhouse
nature of their initial incarnation? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Any lingering doubts were laid to rest
immediately as the foursome emerged from an ingenious backdrop mimicking the
cinderblock confines of a dank Akron basement, and launched into the
malfunctioning robot lament of “Mechanical Man.” There was to be no skimping on the weirdness as the run of
“Auto Modown,” “Space Girl Blues,” and “Baby Talkin’ Bitches” demonstrated. As
if the last forty years had transpired in the blink of an eye, Devo slipped
back into these songs with great ease, shedding their commercial skin and
reveling in the primordial ooze of their founding years. </span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It was striking how effortlessly Devo dusted off these old,
musty tunes and thrust them into a hyper-modern, movie palace-esque venue like
Best Buy Theater. While still retaining their quirky lurch and mad scientist
synth blurts, these songs were heavy, and thrillingly alive. Ace drummer Josh
Freese is likely one of the few humans alive who could replace the late Alan Meyers,
and his powerful, precise touch added a weighty bottom to the devolved mutant
funk of songs like “I Been Refused” and “Midget.” Of course, the bizarre,
decidedly non-PC lyrics of a song such as “Bamboo Bimbo” still perplex and
amuse in equal measures. Bassist and noted ham Jerry Casale seemed to
particularly relish glimpses into his own twisted, young mind. Except now there
are several generations of weirdos to laugh along with him.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And then the suits came out. Forgoing the iconic yellow
hazmat suits and flowerpot domes, the quartet donned “Akron janitorial wear”
and bank robber masks. As the previously nondescript basement set split apart
into a dazzling yet tasteful lighting backdrop, Devo delved into the songs that
established them as one of the great pop-art groups. Their genius take on the
Stones’ “Satisfaction,” early hit “Be Stiff,” debut album kickstarter
“Uncontrollable Urge” and the slow burn of “Gut Feeling” contrasted perfectly
with lesser known tracks like “Soo Bawls,” “Ono” and “Fountain of Filth.” To
the packed crowd, they might as well all have been number one hits as the band
whipped the Devo-tees into a lather with official anthem “Jocko Homo.” </span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After creepy mascot Booji Boy waddled out and serenaded the
audience to the warped tones of “U Got Me Bugged,” Devo ended the nearly ninety
minute set by dedicating “Clockout” to the late Bob2. Since the band seemed to
have as much of a blast as the gathered faithful, I wouldn’t be surprised if
some of these old chestnuts found their way into the regular Devo set. Bob,
Alan, General Boy and Rod Rooter would be proud.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">MUSIC BLUES </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">ICE BALLOONS </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">CALL OF THE WILD</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">@ Union Pool</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tuesday, January 13th</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Under the seemingly innocuous name of “Music Blues,” three of the city’s finest craftsman of loud n’ heavy sonic demolition occasionally gather together to grind out their frustrations through the miracle of amplification. The power trio formed to bring bassist Stephen Tanner’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Things Haven’t Gone Well</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> (Thrill Jockey) album to lurching life. You may know Stephen from his time with kings of slo-mo power-sludge Harvey Milk, or perhaps you’ve sampled his mouth-watering fried chicken at The Commodore (or the original Pies n’ Thighs). In either capacity, the man shows an abundance of skill, and he made a smart decisions in recruiting his bandmates (Tanner performs all instruments on the album). Just to make sure his band, in addition to crushing your skull, could cook you under the table, Tanner nabbed James Beard Award-winning pastry chef Brooks Headley to smash the skins. You may also know Headley from bands such as Universal Order of Armageddon, Born Against, and Wrangler Brutes. Finally, with Ben Greenberg (Hubble/Uniform/Pygmy Shrews) on guitar, it’s clear that Music Blues is a part-time band consisting of full-time dudes. Yet, the band is casual; Tanner seems unsure of his role as leader, which is kind of charming. After an (intentionally?) awkward beginning, the band roared to life as it navigated what seems like Tanner’s brain in riff form. Much like Harvey Milk, Music Blues deal in molten riffs with long pauses and gaps of near-silence between notes (which were conveniently written on the floor of the stage for the musicians). As the oddly-shaped off-time riffs pile on top of each other, you find yourself sucked into Tanner’s weird head-space. It’s not an unpleasant sensation, especially when Greenberg starts peeling off harmonic bends and brief flashes of solo shred. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Occupying the middle slot, Ice Balloons presented an entertaining spectacle. Warped visuals were projected onto the band as the fly-masked singer fronted a pulverizing rhythm section over which all manner of electronic noise was spread liberally; they even have a keytar. At their most aggressive, Ice Balloons brought to mind ‘90s greats like Brainiac, Six Finger Satellite and even Cows. Halfway through the set, they calmed down a bit and played some weird hybrid of surf rock and spastic new wave. Suffice to say, you should probably book Ice Balloons to liven up your next loft party.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Opening the show, Call Of The Wild brought their usual combustible mix of punk and metal. Basically, Call Of The Wild is the band that Crispin Glover’s character in </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">River’s Edge</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> should be blasting out of his souped-up Volkswagen Beetle. Hurry your ass!</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b> -------------------------------------------------------------</b></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">So Percussion feat. Man Forever </span></b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Battle Trance </span></b></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b>@ Judson Church</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">1/9/15 </span></span></b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Winter Jazzfest is a sprawling three-day festival that occurs at multiple venues throughout Manhattan’s Greenwich Village. While traditional forms are represented in abundance, the festival is careful to incorporate a selection of acts from the outer regions of avant-jazz and improvised music. The Saturday night showcase set by So Percussion, featuring Man Forever, at Judson Church was a perfect example of the Jazzfest’s adventurous programming. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Before the percussion-based ensemble took the stage, Travis Laplante’s Battle Trance stilled the audience with their </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Palace of Wind</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> composition. Comprised of four saxophonists, Battle Trance utilize extended breathing techniques to weave an undulating tapestry of overlapping tones that stretch out and occasionally snap, erupting in squawks, barks and even mimicking unruly flatulence at times. The set was a nice counterpoint to the impending rhythmic display.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">After a brief intermission, the four members of So Percussion came out and sat down at their homemade tabletop guitar stations. To call these constructions guitars isn’t quite correct, and they certainly aren’t played as such, but each one is plugged into a Fender Twin amp, so there is still a link to rock music. The quartet performed a composition that consisted of the musicians bowing and striking their lapsteel-like instruments in synchronicity, conjuring gamelan-like textures that at times echoed Tortoise-style post-rock while the louder moments harkened back to Glenn Branca’s massed-guitar orchestras. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The second part of the set featured local drummer/composer John Colpitts aka Kid Millions, longtime skinsman of Brooklyn fixtures Oneida, and a fearless musician willing to tackle any playing situation. Colpitts and So Percussion collaborated on last year’s excellent </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ryonen</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> (Thrill Jockey), an album that somehow achieves a glacial beauty amidst its flurry of percussion. On this night, the group, with an expanded line-up of drummers, performed the title composition. The piece began with almost African rhythms, introduced forceful, hammering blasts, and eventually settled into what can only be described as a landscape of drums. Despite the seven different percussionists on stage, the piece never felt busy or fussy. It’s not easy to be satisfied hitting one drum for twenty minutes, that’s why it’s best to leave it to the professionals.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">THE THURSTON MOORE BAND</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">11/12/2014 </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">@ The Marlin Room at Webster Hall</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">There was an interesting dichotomy at Manhattan’s Webster Hall last Thursday night. In the main room, NYC indie faves Parquet Courts headlined a sold-out show that was the culmination of a productive and triumphant year, while in the more intimate setting of the Marlin Room, longtime Sonic Youth leader Thurston Moore played with his eponymously-named band. Since time immemorial, the young have always devoured the old, but the eternally floppy-haired Moore is still the world’s oldest teenager, and he can make a guitar shriek with the best of them. Although this performance was a bit light on such moments, it still provided some insights into Moore’s newest project.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Featuring material from his most recent album, with the seemingly rom-com-inspired title of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Best Day </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Matador), Moore’s seasoned vets gave the songs heft, channeling ballsy rock more than any avant tendencies. It was nice to see My Bloody Valentine bassist Deb Googe in a different setting, laying down a thick bottom end with local Ryan Sawyer on drums. Youth drummer Steve Shelley plays on the album, but on this night he was head-nodding approvingly from the audience. With the presence of Lee Ranaldo as well, there was a possibility of some SY nuggets, but Moore stuck to the program of his recent efforts, except for an encore of “Ono Soul,” a college radio hit from his first solo album, 1995’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Psychic Hearts</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">While lacking Sonic Youth’s combustible chemistry, Moore’s band makes up for it with fluid guitar lines that occasionally erupt into hard rock riffing. Pedal-hopping instead of string-abusing, Moore engaged in call-and-response sparring with British guitarist James Sedwards, as on the propulsive mantra “Forevermore.” The chugging “Detonation” was dedicated to Chelsea Manning and recalled past Youth screeds like “Youth Against Fascism.” Twisty rockers like “Germs Burn” and the title track seemed to satisfy the crowd’s desire for classic Thurston moves, but the billowing, Polvo-esque instrumental “Grace Lake” proved to be the highlight of the evening. Although he may have tempered his sonic terrorism of old just a smidge, Moore can still hold his own with today’s youth.</span></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">COSMIC PSYCHOS</span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">PAMPERS</span></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">CALL OF THE WILD</span></span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><b>@ Cake Shop</b></span></b></span> </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><b>9/22/13</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><br /> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This past weekend, the three-man Australian wrecking crew
known as the Cosmic Psychos steam-rolled their way through the city with
consecutive shows at the Cake Shop. Friday night was a certified rager, a
top-to-bottom killer bill of beer-guzzling rock n’ roll, right in the heart of
the increasingly douche-oriented Lower East Side. The Psychos made their name
back in an era when the LES still provided a sense of grit and threat, and they
are touring the US in celebration of thirty years of blowing eardrums and
mooning audiences. A new
documentary about these hard-livin’ Aussies, <i>Blokes You Can Trust, </i>fills you in on the nitty-gritty, and Goner
Records is issuing their initial run of records -- <i>Down on the Farm </i>(1985), <i>Cosmic
Psychos</i> (1987) and <i>Go the Hack </i>(1989).
In this business, stick around long enough, and someone is bound to make a
movie about you.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Friday night, Cosmic Psychos unleashed a nonstop barrage of fan
favorites like “Lost Cause,” “Custom Credit,” “Pub” and “Hooray Fuck.”
Singer/bassist Ross Knight dedicated “I’m Up, You’re Out” to “the cunt who
tried to take my farm.” The raucous set ended on a ridiculous note with the
sarcastic wish fulfillment of “David Lee Roth” (“I want long golden locks/I
want a great big 20-inch cock”). The Cosmic Psychos may not be able to execute
mid-air splits like Mr. Roth, but they had no problem splitting heads open with
their Stoogeoid pummel on Friday night. Next stop: Gonerfest, where they’ll
team up with old mates Mudhoney for dual headlining nights. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Before the burly men from Down Under graced the stage, the
surly dudes in local outfit Pampers strafed the crowd with their nasty garage
spew -- the nervous tics of Devo sifted through the blown-amp aesthetic of
prime Oblivians. In case you hadn’t heard, sci-fi love song “Purple Brain” was
the jam of the summer. Pampers’ debut album on the In The Red Records is
imminent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Leading off the night was Brooklyn power-trio Call of the
Wild, a perfect foil to the following bands. Guitarist Johnny Coolati solos
like a demon, burning his way through the muscular throb of the rhythm section.
Call of the Wild is probably the closest thing Brooklyn is gonna get to Thin
Lizzy; pure hard rock, emphasis on both words. They sweat, you sweat, everyone
goes home happy.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>GOOD THROB </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>LA MISMA </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>PRIESTS </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>EXIT ORDER </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>NUCLEAR SPRING</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">@ Death By Audio</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Saturday, April 5<sup>th</sup>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">This past Saturday at Death By Audio, a diverse bill of touring
and local bands played to a house packed with all stripes of the punk rock
rainbow represented. Perfectly mirroring the bands, all of which are
female-fronted and –dominated, there were a lot of ladies in attendance. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately,
we missed locals Nuclear Spring, but suffice to say that if you have ever put
Crimpshrine on a mixtape or own the Blatz/Filth split, you should make it a
priority to see them. Boston’s Exit Order tore through a set of clench-fisted hardcore
punk led by the assertive presence of singer Anna. Priests have played their
fair share of NYC shows of late, but they were off their game on this night.
Equipment problems and long pauses stalled any momentum the Washington, D.C.
band was able to muster, although they did manage to close with a decent
version of their most bracing track, “Radiation."</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">For their first show in the US, London’s Good Throb
justified their small-scale hype with a tense and fun set of poke-in-the-eye
punk featuring songs from their brand-new <i>Fuck
Off</i> album. Singer KY Ellie has a classic British snarl that cuts through
the band’s spikey post-punk. The jagged “Acid House” recalls Erase Errata while
the minute-long screed of “Double White Denim” is Wire stripped of all archness
and going direct for the throat. Good Throb are an exciting band, partly
because of their lack of pretense.</span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Local quartet La Misma closed out the night,
and none of their recorded material prepared me for their stomping pogo-punk. I
can’t say I can understand the singer’s Portuguese lyrics, but her high-pitched
yammering paired with an occasional guttural utterance gives the band a unique
focal point. She bounced around the stage while the band raged behind her like
Nog Watt’s long-lost sisters. La Misma are an appealing blend of obscure
influences and just good ol’ fashioned ripping punk rock. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>KING KHAN & THE
SHRINES </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>RED MASS </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>VOMIT SQUAD</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">@ Music Hall of Williamsburg</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Saturday, June 7<sup>th</sup>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">It was a family affair this past Saturday at the Music Hall
of Williamsburg. International rock n’ soul collective King Khan & The
Shrines headlined an excellent triple bill that mined the deep reservoirs of
Montreal’s fertile underground scene. As Arish Khan leads his Shrines to the
promised land, he’s also bringing old friends and co-conspirators along with
him. Tourmates Red Mass and Vomit Squad feature former members of The
Spaceshits, Les Sexareenos and CPC Gangbangs – Montreal legends all. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Vomit Squad opened the show by ripping through a set of
snotty punk as singer Richard Ritalin hopped around and contorted himself into
poses that conveyed his paranoid rants as effectively as his adenoidal, Doc
Dart-like vocals.
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Red Mass followed with a genre-defying mix that seamlessly
blended garage rock, mutant disco, heavy riffing, bursts of free improv noise,
and impressive soloing by leader Roy Vucino. The head-spinning set ended with
Vucino smashing his guitar in ecstasy or rage, both key elements of Red Mass’ <i>raison d’etre</i>. The crowd responded with
approval, hootin’ and hollerin’ for more.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Enter Mr. Khan and his ragged band of troubadours – a nine-piece
group that functions like a juke-joint version of Sun Ra’s Arkestra. Khan is a
consummate showman, unafraid to get down n’ dirty, like some sort of demented
cross between GG Allin and a tent revival preacher. He led the band through old
favorites and selections from their most recent album <i>Idle No More</i> on Merge Records. Cuts like “Born To Die” and “Bite My
Tongue” got everyone moving, but it’s Khan’s special brand of stage banter that
really loosens the crowd up. A lady in the upper levels was even moved to
discard her pants and let it all hang out. The Shrines have that kind of effect
people, and far be it for anyone to tell other folks how to have a good time.
It was Saturday night, the band was rockin’, and everyone was having fun.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>FUCKED UP </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>BIG UPS </b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>IN SCHOOL</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">@ Bowery Ballroom</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Friday, June 6<sup>th</sup>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Toronto institution, the six piece rock unit known as Fucked
Up, were in town last Friday celebrating the release of their latest magnum
opus, <i>Glass Boys </i>(Matador). Truth be
told, I lost track of Fucked Up after their first opus, <i>Hidden World</i>, so I’m not overly familiar with their subsequent
opuses (opii? nope. <i>Opera</i>). But, to
their credit, Fucked Up always bring the noise in their live incarnation
(except the one time the singer had to go to the hospital after smashing a lightbulb
on his face during the first song). On record, frontman Damien Abraham’s
one-note bellow is a liability, but on-stage his good-natured fury is an asset.
With his ever-present basketball shorts and bare-chested demeanor, Abraham
comes off like the world’s most pissed off teddy bear. The crowd loves him, and
when he makes his way onto the floor of the sold-out Bowery Ballroom, the
people embrace him, literally and figuratively. There is an undeniable anthemic
aspect to Fucked Up’s music, which, despite their epic song lengths and endless
bag of riffs, reminds me of Avail shows back in the ‘90s. Everyone from punks
to squares to the hardcore faithful would go to those shows, and even a grump
like me couldn’t ignore the explosion of energy generated by the subsequent dissolution
of the band/audience dynamic. Like any good hardcore show, there is no difference
between the two. On the strength of Jonah Falco’s muscular drumming, the chugging
guitars, and Abraham’s sweat and record-nerd between-song banter, Fucked Up put
on a pretty good show for a bunch of aging hardcore kids. They closed the set
with a spirited run through of fan favorite “Police.”</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Local punk quartet In School opened the show with a clutch
of DC hardcore-indebted stompers like “Conquest” and “Apocryphal Scum” from
their <i>Praxis of Hate </i>7”. Ending with
a cool take on what’s become a virtual punk standard, The Urinals’ “I’m A Bug,”
these ladies did a nice job of transferring their basement/loft-dwelling
hardcore punk to a bigger venue like Bowery. </span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The much-hyped Big Ups occupied the middle spot, and, while
showing some promising moves, failed to fully deliver the goods. Spazzy singer
Joe Galaragga has a good punk scream and plenty of nervous energy, but his band
drops the ball at times. Their second song was a weak Jesus Lizard imitation by
a freshly-showered high school band – not a good look. Big Ups is better when
they are operating from a Dischord Records template, echoing latter-day
post-hardcore heroes like At The Drive In. Galaragga’s urgent, motormouthed
delivery on a track like “Goes Black” is dampened somewhat by the guitarist’s
got-a-gift-certificate-to-Sam-Ash-for-Christmas guitar tone. Big Ups shows
promise, but, based on the pedestrian “Wool,” I get the feeling they need a
year or so of serious roadwork before they can truly provide the catharsis
their audience craves.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><b> </b> </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="color: #cccccc;">The above -- along w/ photos -- originally appeared at</span> <a href="http://cmj.com/">cmj.com</a></b></span> </span></div>
</div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-11022296226275346402015-01-25T22:07:00.006-08:002015-02-07T10:48:52.603-08:00simply titled: "RECORD REVIEWS"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-0a38caff-140d-dc57-5043-07ea6f4175a7" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cc0000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #cc0000;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: red;"> <span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><u> SINGLES</u></b></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ausmuteants </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">‘Stale White Boys Playing Stale Black Music’ 7”</span></span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-0a38caff-140d-dc57-5043-07ea6f4175a7" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">While
the world has been going apeshit for these new wave goofballs from Down
Under, I’ve been on the sidelines, a bit nonplussed. Maybe I’m just a
killjoy, but their Devo-derived smart-aleck punk has only provided a few
highlights, but, let’s be honest -- I’m not really their demographic. I
gotta say though, when “Who’s The Narc’ quickly jumps into a
well-executed Kinks-style horn run and then proceeds to wave-out on the
best early ‘80s post-disco groove I’ve heard in awhile, well shit, it’s
almost like I’m a kid watching MTV again. Duran Duran would’ve stolen
that bit, no doubt. And I probably would’ve danced along in my living
room. Both songs on the B-side could be retroactively slotted onto an
airing of Rodney on the Roq and no one would bat a glittered eyelash. I
think these Aussie mutants have converted me. [Easter Bilby; </span></span><a href="http://easterbilbyrecords.bigcartel.com/"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">http://easterbilbyrecords.bigcartel.com/</span></span></a></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Exorcisms 7”</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Blues-punk
shuffle from a trio of Los Angelenos. “Love Gone Bad” plays it too
straight for me, echoing a thousand standards before. “Two With Half”
picks up the speed and the boogie and could probably get a barful of
drunks smashing a few glasses and picking a few fights. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[self-released; </span><a href="https://exorcisms.bandcamp.com/">https://exorcisms.bandcamp.com/ </a></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ghetto Ghouls 7”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Played
with these dudes down in their hometown of Austin,Texass. They had a
hyperactive, angular edge to their nominally garage-punk thing, and it
worked quite well. This single’s a bit slim on material -- I could’ve
actually done with another 30 seconds or so of “Plastic Violence” -- but
brevity seems in short supply lately, so we’ll give em the benefit.
“Things” has an appealing sort of pummel to it, but I kept waiting for
the song to leap into something that would clarify or contrast, but
alas…. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[12XU; </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><a href="http://12xu.net/"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">http://12xu.net/</span></span></a></span></span></span>]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Lucha Eterna </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Asceroso </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">EP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Label head (and sometime Obnox skin-pounder) RR fronts this gnarly hardcore outfit, screaming away </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">en espanol</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. Closest translation I could come up with for the title was “nasty, gross, disgusting,” which describes this fast n’ dirty attack as well as anything. I hear some Brazilian hardcore, maybe even some Italian, but for all I know, it’s pure Swede. Fuck, this shit gets confusing. But wait, look, they end with a cover of The Guns’ “I’m Not Right,” so now we’re back in territory I know well. “Is it the way I act? WHAT ACT!” </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Saucepan; </span><a href="https://saucepanrecords.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://saucepanrecords.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ]</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Nots "Fix"/"Modern" 7”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">These
gals turned quite a few heads this year, and with good reason -- they
rip through classic-sounding KBD punk-wave with equal parts sneer/smile.
Nots ended 2014 on a high note with their fine debut LP, which was made
with their current quartet line-up. This single from earlier in the
year is the last with the original trio and it’s a spirited run-thru of a
pair of solid, snotty punkers. It’s a fact that women are making most
of the best and freshest punk nowadays, and Nots are another girl-gang
ready to slash your face. Get down and get with it. [Goner; <a href="http://www.goner-records.com/">http://www.goner-records.com/</a>]</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Pen Test 7”</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Two
young men from Minneapolis indulging a serious Kraftwerk fixation, and
can you blame them? Kraftwerk is the shit -- you know it, I know it,
they know it. OK, then. The untitled A-side hits the pleasure centers
quite nicely -- bubbling synths, a metronomic kick-drum, washes of
melody swooping in and out of the mix. Somewhere, Ralf und Florian are
smiling. (If they do smile, it’s not quite clear). The B-side is less
successful, incidental music from a soundtrack with a vague John
Carpenter vibe. Meh, as your kids say. True to form, the album-length
format is where The Pen Text excel, and fortunately for you, Moniker
recently released such an artifact. Pick it up for some </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">fahn fahn fahn</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Moniker; <a href="http://www.moniker-records.com/">http://www.moniker-records.com/</a>]</span></span></span><br />
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Rema Rema </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“International Scale”/”Short Stories” 7”</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Beyond
excellent archive recording from short-lived but much-revered art-punk
elder gods Rema(-)Rema. “International Scale” packs serious bass wallop
and guitar squeal and is of a piece with their lone release, the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Wheel In The Roses </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">12”.
“Short Stories” is from the OG line-up back in ‘78,
not-quite-there-yet, but you can see where they’re headed.
Lovingly-packaged with a graphic sense that retains the EP's aesthetic, the single came with copies of UK zine <i>Defiant Pose</i>,
which also features an extended interview and breakdown of just who and
what Rema Rema exactly was. Both reading and listening material are
essential for anyone who has ever been a fan of the churning rhythms and
cynical POV of Rema Rema. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Inflammable Material;
<a href="http://feelitrecords.bigcartel.com/product/defiant-pose-8-w-rema-rema-7">http://feelitrecords.bigcartel.com/product/defiant-pose-8-w-rema-rema-7</a>]</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Thigh Master ‘Head of the Witch’ 7”</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #6aa84f;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u>Official MT Stamp of Approval</u></span></span> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Strummy,
slummy Brisbane band that finds itself swimming alongside The Clean,
that elusive guppy of lo-fi bliss-pop. Three songs of hooks hanging on
lines, ready for your eager mouth. Chomp, gulp, it’s good. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Tenth Court; <a href="https://tenthcourt.bandcamp.com/">https://tenthcourt.bandcamp.com/</a>]</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tropical Trash ‘Think Back Kick A Beer’ 7”</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Although
this record came out last year, it’s nice to see that these skewed
Louisville rockers are still kickin’, and thinkin’, and backin’. TT
thrash around without genre constraints, mainly looking to raise a
racket, with the occasional off-map path followed. The A-side filters
through a few breakneck noise rock motifs, leaning more on the
riff-as-such than earlier efforts. It’s fast, borderline hardcore. As I
noted in a previous review, Tropical Trash remind me of forgotten ‘90s
greats Pitchblende, and “Ritual Bath” is uncanny in its resemblance.
Aggressive, nerdy and noisy, maybe it’s time for a full length?
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Sophomore Lounge; </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://sophomoreloungerecords.com/home.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://sophomoreloungerecords.com/home.html</span></a></span></span>]</span></span></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Xetas 7”</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Sharp
Austin rock untethered to any specific genre, or micro-scene. Tough,
driving and anthemic, “The Silence” is the sort of song that
would once have been played to death on college radio; it actually
reminds me of a little-known and underappreciated ‘00s Cleveland band
called Sounder. Tempering the anger a bit, “The Knife” channels the
supercharged Superchunk side of the coin and comes up a corker with
a chorus that I can picture a packed basement of young ‘uns screaming
along with. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[12XU;</span></span></span><a href="http://12xu.net/"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> http://12xu.net/</span></span></a><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><u><b>FULL LENGTHS</b></u></span></span></span> <br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>15-60-75 The <span class="il">Numbers</span>
<span class="il">Band</span> <i><span class="il"> </span></i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span class="il">Jimmy</span> <span class="il">Bell</span>’s Still in Town</i></span> <span style="font-size: x-large;">LP</span></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ohio-centric
label Exit Stencil Recordings steps up and reissues this lost classic on vinyl
for the first time since it’s initial 1976 release. In Northeast Ohio, The
<span class="il">Numbers</span> <span class="il">Band</span> are legends, renowned for rollicking live shows, dense with extended
jams and percolating rhythms. This six-song set, recorded live in 1975 while
opening for Bob Marley and The Wailers at legendary Cleveland venue The Agora,
shows off The <span class="il">Numbers</span> <span class="il">Band</span>’s strengths – muscular, economical but unpredictable
vamping on traditional blues motifs. The seven-piece <span class="il">band</span> (including Chrissie
Hynde’s bro Terry on sax) was a nexus where the dominant strains of ‘70s music
collided; elements of rock, blues, jazz and funk get tossed in, and it all
comes off so naturally, it’s a wonder more <span class="il">bands</span> have been unable to emulate
its peaks. While there are antecedents in groups like the Hampton Grease <span class="il">Band</span>
and even some of Captain Beefheart’s catalog, a song like “Narrow Road” most
closely resembles Tony Williams Lifetime; a jazz/rock hybrid that appears loose,
yet is so rhythmically tight, your ass and brain are in complete agreement -- shut
up and get limber. There are also brief flashes of the kind of epic guitar-dueling
that would make Television’s impending <i>Marquee
Moon</i> so striking. “Thief” brings to mind a dream collab of The James Gang
and Can, but “<span class="il">Jimmy</span> <span class="il">Bell</span>” is the album’s cornerstone, a song that holds the set
in place. A fluid, ever-moving full-<span class="il">band</span> take on Cat Iron’s blues classic,
“<span class="il">Jimmy</span> <span class="il">Bell</span>” is ten glorious minutes of gyrating rhythms and locked-in guitar
soloing. Few groups have managed to be so accessible while taking their
audience on a journey to parts unknown. If this seminal set isn’t enough
for you, Exit Stencil unearthed three bonus tracks to fill out this double-LP
labor of love. A stripped-down version of “Who Do You Love?” is the best
front-porch jam session you’ve belatedly been invited to, while “Drive”
provides more guitar fireworks and avant-garage churn that didn’t go unnoticed
by the likes of Pere Ubu and Devo. This may be a bitter pill to swallow for
some, but <i><span class="il">Jimmy</span> <span class="il">Bell</span>’s Still in Town</i>
is exactly what I’ve always wished The Grateful Dead sounded like – psychedelic
boogie rock for the masses. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>
</b>[Exit Stencil Recordings; <a href="http://exitstencil.org/" target="_blank">http://exitstencil.org/</a>]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><i>originally appeared in High Times mag</i><u> </u></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The American Jobs </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Carne Levare</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Another
curve ball from Savage Quality. The American Jobs are a dark and
lounge-y bunch, sounding for all the world like the house
band of the Black Lodge in <i>Twin Peaks</i>. Mainman Nathan Reynolds possesses a deep croon that dips down past
Bryan Ferry and comes up Andrew Eldritch, lending American Jobs a
gothic feel, but leave the black lipstick at home because this party has
long been over. Consequently, my favorite song on here is probably the
pitch-black “Velvet, Moss And Flies.” I know I throw out a lot of
references to semi-obscure shit (deal with it - that’s how I found out
about this crap and I didn’t even have THE INTERNET (!!!) to help me), BUT here’s one for the books and it is entirely
appropriate -- Dark Arts. A great deal of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Carne Lavare</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> (“meat wash,” I googled it for you) has the same late night, exotic, sensual crawl as Dark Arts’ </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A Long Way From Brigadoon</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
(recorded and released by one Stevus Albini). (That sentence had three
sets of parentheses in it. What has become of us?) It’s 3:50 in the
afternoon and it would be obvious to even a blind man that this is far
too early in the day to be slowly swaying about my apartment to American
Jobs. But maybe you wake n’ bake to Leonard Cohen and Dead Can Dance,
so if that’s the case, I’ve got your new favorite record right here.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Savage Quality; </span><a href="http://www.savagequalityrecordings.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.savagequalityrecordings.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Charlie Tweddle </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fantastic Greatest Hits </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">2xLP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Beautifully-packaged
double set collecting outsider country hero Charlie Tweddle’s
acid-limned vision of reality. If you’re familiar with Mighty
Mouth’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Midnite Plowboy </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(best title), then you’ve only heard the man’s more recent material. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fantastic</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
reproduces his sought-after self-released 1974 album along with an
extra record of more early crackpot action. The first side of the previously-released album is raw documentation of Tweddle singing over minimal
accompaniment, while in between the songs field recordings of his farm are
spliced in. At times, especially when songs are suddenly interrupted, it
sounds like a chilled-out Hasil Adkins produced by Guided By Voices. As
you listen to the album, you start to wonder about ol’ Charlie -- are
the aliens coming for him? Is that what these songs are? Transmissions
sent out to his home planet? Perhaps the reason none of the songs have titles is because they are unable to be translated from their native,
off-world tongue. Charlie’s just havin’ a sit on his porch, strumming
his guitar, and waiting for outer space to come scoop him up again. On
the flip, he’s given up playing songs and decides to document his
surroundings, as terra-based as you can get. Beneath the din of the
nighttime owls and frogs, you can hear a band sawing away in the
distance. Occasionally, Charlie dicks around on guitar and practices his
whistling and singing. By the end of the side, Charlie has walked back
into the house and he starts a song, only to shovel a shit-ton of dirt
on top of it. I can almost see the confused looks on his friends’ faces
as they spun their weird buddy’s rural headfuck of an album. The extra
LP is more of the same c&w </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">musique concrete</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">.
Heck, I think I like it even more than the album proper. Pick up a couple
‘cubes, put this rekkid on, and gaze up at the stars. You might just be
surprised at who’s lookin’ back.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Mighty Mouth-Ever/Never; </span><a href="http://www.almostreadyrecords.com/mmm.htm" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.almostreadyrecords.com/mmm.htm</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> - </span><a href="http://evernever.bigcartel.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://evernever.bigcartel.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Coitus Int. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">s/t </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Bunkerpop’s 2011 faithful reissue of Coitus Int.’s </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dead Excitement </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">EP
is, in this writer’s humble oh-pinion, one of thee most crucial
products of The Golden Age of The Reissue (post-CD version). If you are
ignorant, go to Discogs, or the record store, and un-ignorantize
yourself. You can thank me by avoiding me on the street. Now, a few
years later, Bunkerpop continues in the interruption (Coitus 2: The
Interruption Continues) cataloguing with the debut album. While not
quite as crackingly post-punk as the 7”, the LP finds Coitus slowing
down and getting gloomier, glacial, and almost-goth. Perfecting a form
of non-guitar-dominated death rock, and still strongly influenced by
PiL, Coitus Int. come out with trench-digging bass and
so-sullen-they’re-aggressive vocals. Lines like “Two milligrams taken by
mistake/are just enough to throw myself out of the window” are pushed
out in a sort of breathless hush. The disgust is palpable. “To Avoid The
Pressure” is like Killing Joke running on empty -- all the impending doom
is there, but the band doesn’t even have the will to try to escape, that would just be
postponing the inevitable. “The Threat” is an Edgar Allen Poe story come
to life in a dour Belgian band’s imagining, ticking clock counting
down, paralysis and dread. The band speeds up at the end, but only
because it’s sprinting full tilt into the arms of death. “Shrill Screams”
features the hilarious lyrics “Shrill screams/the noises of Paris/they
say the French are emotional.” The humor is dark as a starless night.
The half-speed Joy Division of “My Ideal Man” is followed by the
existential despair of “At The Edge of Triumph,” which could just as
well be Coitus Int.’s theme song. I’m not sure any other band has ever
crept closer to Samuel Beckett’s brutal, hermetic universe than these
miserable sonsabitches. The lyrics to “Tourist Ghetto” are keen
observations and dynamic truths writ small. You should buy this record
so you can read them off the lyric sheet and so Bunkerpop can continue
to put out more unjustly overlooked musics. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Bunkerpop; </span><a href="http://bunkerpop.bigcartel.com/product/bp-003-coitus-int-lp" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://bunkerpop.bigcartel.com/product/bp-003-coitus-int-lp</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Coma In Algiers </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Happy Forever </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fourth album, but first for me, by this Austin, Tex-Mex six-piece (whoa put that thing away,
pardner!). The first side of this platter gives off distinct DC vibes,
particularly latter-day Dischord standard-bearers Black Eyes. It’s there
in the blistering-hardcore-to-meandering-indie of “95” or the expansive
textures of “Sexual Beings,” although there’s no mistaking “Freeland’”s
ecstatic, Trumans Water-esque flailing. But the second side is where
things really start to get interesting. The heavy and lumbering
“Swansea” is followed by the fractured noise rock of “Extol” and “Let’s
Get Married.” “Meaty Gums” is melodic and frantic like the Yah Mos
covering Archers of Loaf. “No Human Contact” sets up a “Who likes
Godflesh more” contest with fellow locals Burnt Skull while the
sing-songy “Leipzig” sounds like a stalker ode penned by Cows. A
slightly schizophrenic, but satisfying, listen. </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[A Wicked Company; </span><a href="https://awickedcompanyrecords.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://awickedcompanyrecords.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cuntz</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Here Come The Real Boys </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Of course you should fucking buy this. You haven't already? Screw you, chico. I booked this tour. These guys played this tour. What did you do? You could at least show some contrition by buying this record, you sonofabitch.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Chunklet;</span><a href="http://chunklet.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">chunklet.com</span></a></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 19px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;">] </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Death Comet Crew<i> </i></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Ghost
Among The Crew </i>LP</span></b></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Back in the early ‘80s, New York City’s Death Comet Crew
helped invent the future. Not many people outside of their downtown axis
noticed, but that didn’t stop DCC’s polyglot approach from having an impact.
It’s hard to imagine the industrial-strength hip-hop of El-P, much less Public
Enemy’s Bomb Squad, without the blueprint provided by Death Comet. Dedicated to
MC and muse Rammellzee, the Crew picks up where it left off, fusing 808 beats,
radio detritus, turntable scratching, and sampling that favors grit and texture
over Pro Tools perfection. There is a cinematic sweep to <i>Ghost Among The Crew</i>, encompassing sci-fi spy soundtracks,
immersive set pieces and dystopian club bangers. Don’t call it retrofuturistic,
this is music for the present. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">[Diagonal; <a href="http://diagonal-records.com/" target="_blank">http://diagonal-records.com/</a>]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><u>originally appeared in High Times mag</u></i> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
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<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-eed5fe9f-3800-4e73-2df7-c6f4e60a630b" style="line-height: 1.15; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dreamsalon </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Soft Stab</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">On
their second full-length, Seattle trio Dreamsalon transition from good
to great. Perhaps you are familiar with their pedigree: A Frames n’
Intelligence n’ Factums n’ Evening Meetings n’ etc. We’re talking the
best of the best of PNW post-punk outfits. Such knowledge might give you
an idea of the angle Dreamsalon is sliding next to you at, but they’re
still gonna hit on you in a whole new way. “Walking Past My Dreams”
hinges on a Wire-like bassline and that’s a good marker for what kind of
territory we’re in here. This is small-batch, organic post-punk made
with care by seasoned vets. Put that on a sticker, slap it on the front
of the record and sell this sucker at Whole Foods. Dreamsalon’s songs are
full of tension and release (see “Animal”), but the amount of space they
give to each instrument imparts a sense of grace to the material. But
Dreamsalon is hip and with it and they can still get down. “Don’t Feel
Like Walkin’” is a bad-trip Oh Sees, pressuring the vocal FX and
heavily-’verbed guitars into a swirling, sweltering steam cloud. The
majority of Dreamsalon’s songs deal with the everyday, the bullshit
struggle of hauling your carcass to work and putting up with idiots and
assholes. The band is the release valve. For some inexplicable
reason, anti-anthem “Vacuum” -- which features the lyrics “I spend my
life in a vacuum/don’t wanna die in a vacuum” -- was left off the LP
proper, but it’s on the download, so let your fingers do the walking.
There’s a delicate balance between inevitable resignation and uneasy
triumph on the album. Hell, it’s even there in the title -- </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Soft Stab </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">--
what’s next, a tender explosion? Side two gives itself over to
extended, moody, bass-heavy explorations like “Exit Specialist” and
“Laugh.” Excellent record by excellent folks.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Dragnet/Sweet Rot; </span><a href="https://dragnetrecords.wordpress.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://dragnetrecords.wordpress.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> - </span><a href="http://www.sweetrotrecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.sweetrotrecords.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">] </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Gravel Samwidge </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Medicinal Requirements </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">12” EP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Swashbuckling
Hobo finally hooks a winner, and the art doesn’t even suck!
Gravel Samwidge is a Brisbane concern with Matt Kennedy from Kitchen’s
Floor on guitar. The style is noise rock, but these guys write pretty
good songs. “Nervepowder” has a cool needling riff that would be right
at home on an AmRep rec. “Rock God” nails classic Aussie swamp without
going overboard on the dramatics. Effective use of samples and
electronic flourishes add a wacked-out mad scientist vibe to the
instrumental “Get Your Shit Together.” The second side feels a little
more generic, but still does the trick well enough. Next record could be
a real hole-plunger. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Swashbuckling Hobo; <a href="http://www.swashbucklinghobo.com/">http://www.swashbucklinghobo.com/ </a></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: x-large; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ipps </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: x-large; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Everything Is Real </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: x-large; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The
members of Ipps have all done time in some of Columbus, Ohio’s finest
bands of this still-young millenium. We’re talking Necropolis, Unholy
Two, Guinea Worms, El Jesus De Magico and more. Led by the
husband-and-wife team of Emily and Bo Davis, Ipps hark back to the sound
Cowtown made its name on. Namely -- noisy, scruffy indie rock that
isn’t afraid to get weird, nor wear its heart on its sleeve. Back in the
‘80s these Ipps would’ve shared new wave hot dogs with Yo La Tengo.
“Yr. Thick” sounds like a lost track from </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Dig Yourself</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
and that’s still a high (street) compliment. “Goawa” takes on a Sonic
Youth slow burn before the inevitable rave-up followed by the meltdown.
Classic shit. As Times New Viking proved almost a decade (?!) ago, this
sound will never die, and long may its drunken flame burn.
</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Superdreamer;<a href="http://www.superdreamerrecordsmain.com/">http://www.superdreamerrecordsmain.com/</a>]</span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">kim ki o </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Bir, Iki…</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Bir, Iki… </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">is
a collection of recordings by Turkish duo, kim ki o. For the most part,
kim ki o play pleasant, slightly dark bedroom wave. I’m reminded of
recent groups like Offset:Spectacles, Hot & Cold and taking it back a
bit further, Young Marble Giants. Unfortunately, these ladies are
lacking the tension in those bands. It’s too easy to lean on the drum
machine and it ends up anchoring these songs in place. The last song on
side one “Gezegenin Adi Dunya” is moderately successful, melding
distorted bass to a nice keyboard melody, as is side two’s closer “Ne
Yapsam Anlarsin?” but it’s too little too late. I like minimalist and
spare, but these songs just feel threadbare -- you can see the bones
poking through. S-S usually has a knack for finding far-flung purveyors
of interesting and weird musics, but this time the sounds just don’t
provoke. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[S-S; <a href="http://s-srecords.tumblr.com/">http://s-srecords.tumblr.com/]</a></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Miami Dolphins <i> </i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>Becky</i> LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Now
here’s an FPE product I can get down with. The Dolphins are a spry and
powerful ensemble that would have been right at home on the Skin Graft
roster, and to an aging punk spazz, that’s practically Proust-ian.
Shorty, Mt. Shasta, Melt-Banana, Scissor Girls et al. A contemporary act
would be Cellular Chaos, a band that links several generations of freak
rock. Miami Dolphins hit tornado mode a lot, and its fun to listen to
them cycle through their furious riffs with abandon. But they can pull
it back as well, such as on “Pucker Upper,” which shows off singer
Beth’s acrobatic, slightly operatic vocals. When the Dolphins aren’t
engaging in total destruction, there is an almost Beefheart-ian quality
to their scrabble, landing them in same wild zoo with Guerilla Toss,
and, taking it back a few decades, Ron Johnson bands like Badgewearer or
Dawson. You might be thinking </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Deerhoof</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> on “Citrus.” But enough with the trainspotting (a terrible vice), the Miami Dolphins score a touchdown with </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Becky</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">. After you’re finished groaning, order this album from </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[FPE; <a href="http://www.fperecs.com/">http://www.fperecs.com/</a>].</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mishka Shubaly </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Coward’s Path </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Coward’s Path</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
is a solo album by successful author and former member of Fresh Kills
and Beat The Devil, Mishka Shubaly. It’s an understated affair, mostly consisting of
tales of misery and woe. They have a name for this style and it’s called
“sad bastard” and Shubaly nails it pretty good. “New Jersey Valentine’s
Day Orphan Blues” has got all the trappings of a Tom Waits song, minus
the sandpaper vocals. That being said, no one is gonna mistake Shubaly
for an </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">American Idol</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
contestant. His voice is a bit shaky at times, but the hard-bitten
lyrics make up for it. At times, the music is not far from Greg Ashley’s
solo work, although lacking Ashley’s attention to detail and sonic
depth. But if you need a sympathetic companion for your downward slide
into oblivion, Shubaly’s got your back. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Invisible Hands; <a href="http://www.mishkashubaly.com/">http://www.mishkashubaly.com</a>/]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Musk <i> </i></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><i>s/t</i> LP</b> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">{<i>disclaimer: the following was originally written for promotional purposes -- take it with a grain of (a)salt, if you must</i>} </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sex. Sweat. Dirt. Danger.</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">At first glance, Musk’s debut album, brought to you by Holy
Mountain, may seem to be a bit of a departure for the noted psychedelic label.
Yet both band and label are primarily interested in one thing – transcendence,
by any means necessary. Although Musk may find their particular transcendence
in junkyards and peepshow booths, this does not render it any less ecstatic. Or
potent.</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Toxic. Intoxicant. Inhale.
Inhalant.</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Musk is a pulp novel made flesh. A ticking time-bomb set to
explode. Frontman Rob Fletcher is the drifter with a dark past and a
hair-trigger temper. He growls, spits, shrieks, retches and even occasionally
sings as the band attack their instruments behind him. While the rhythm section pounds out the songs with brute force, Chris Owen’s guitar bleeds
reverb all over the damn place, as if his amp itself has been stabbed. (Dave
Davies, what have ye wrought?) Owen’s leads have a sickly twang, coming at you
like flying shards of broken glass from a punched-out mirror. With Oakland, California as its home base, perhaps
it’s not
surprising how ruthlessly Musk harness the sound of violence for their
own
purposes. Permanently disgruntled, the fellas in Musk - vets from bands
like Tractor Sex Fatality, Killer's Kiss and Slicing Grandpa -- were
looking to weld their mutual love of down n’ dirty rock n’ roll to
sheet-metal
sonics. They have succeeded in spades. On their debut full-length, the
members of
Musk dig their own graves, and then gleefully jump in. The album kicks off with “Grandier,” a burner that recalls
the glory days of Cows and their warped take on the blues. “Funny Feeling” is
pure spaghetti western punk, except Musk brought six-shooters to this food
fight. That ain’t sauce, boss, that’s blood. The psychotronic splatter
continues with a vicious run-through of Chrome Cranks’ classic “Drag House,”
followed by “Slow Bummer,” which echoes, via deadly reverb-spray and murderous
intention, The Scientists, one of the godfathers of this swamp-cum-alley rat
sound. “Last Stand Rot Soft” is a come-on that might as well be a
pact with Satan -- skulking and slinking around the corners, looking for kicks,
and a lady to ride shotgun on a one-way trip to oblivion. The guitars sound
genuinely pained, as if they are in their death-throes, each dying twitch
captured perfectly by ace producer Chris Woodhouse (Mayyors/Karate Party). “Devil’s Hand” brings things back around
to a twisted sort of garage punk reminiscent of unheralded greats like The
Beguiled or Necessary Evils, but Owen’s guitar still sounds like helicopter
blades -- a ghetto bird cruising the Oakland skyline searching for dangerous
men on the loose. “Trashroof” trades in for an almost Beefheartian lurch, and
would certainly serve a David Lynch movie better’n some Nine Inch Ninnies
claptrap. “Combat Shock II” is an ode to Fletcher’s dual spirit animals – ‘80s
hellions Pussy Galore and low-budget high-kill-count midnight movies. There is
no question that “Knuckle Dust” is the soundtrack to a no-holds-barred street
fight, and there is no doubt that around the time everything blooms into a
cloud of feedback and noise – well, that’s when somebody gets knocked out cold.
Speaking of cold, “Black Ice” closes the album with a shuddering finality. In a world of endless digital permutations -- a world in
which art is merely a facsimile of its own past -- Musk are like the VHS tape
to the masses’ USB stick. The latter is plastic and disposable, while the former
favors grit, texture and sports a certain lasting appeal. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Musk. Designed to hurt, built to last.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">[Holy Mountain; <a href="http://www.holymountain.com/">http://www.holymountain.com/</a>] </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Nicole Mitchell’s Black Earth Ensemble </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Intergalactic Beings</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> 2xLP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Well,
this one threw me for a loop and proved the old adage of not judging
books, or LPs, by their covers. This looks for all the world to be a
late ‘90s hip-hop album, like something, say, Heiroglyphics would have
put out. Some kinda post-conscious rap thing with bad alien art. Imagine
my surprise when I slapped it on and was greeted by sawing violins,
free jazz drumming and various woodwind instruments making their case
above the fray. Huh. Apparently this double LP is a composition by
Nicole Mitchell that was commissioned by Chicago’s MOCA. Recorded live,
the music is performed by a nine-piece group, including Jeff Parker of
Tortoise. It certainly reminds me of classic large ensemble jazz records
of the late ‘60s. So it is like conscious hip-hop, just an earlier
version. If you see this in the record store, don’t think you’re doing
them a favor by putting it back in the rap section, do yourself a favor
by purchasing it. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[FPE;</span><a href="http://www.fperecs.com/"> http://www.fperecs.com/</a>]</span>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Nones </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Midwestern Family Values </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Man,
the cover to this LP is ugly. I know it’s supposed to be ugly, but this
is an album you don’t want to see peering back at you from yr stacks or
racks. Nones are a Chicago band who deal in mildly weird punk that I
can’t help but think is like the Alice Donut of current times, but, in
accordance with current climes, they’re not nearly as freaky and out-</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">there</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">.
The album has its moments (esp. on side two), and I bet they’re a hoot
live, but Nones fail to connect with this discontented former
midwesterner. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Hozac;</span></span></span><a href="http://hozacrecords.com/"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> http://hozacrecords.com/</span></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">]</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b>Parkay Quarts </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><i>Content Nausea </i>LP</b></span></span><br />
<div class="review-content post-content" itemprop="reviewBody">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It’s been interesting to watch the rise of New York City’s <a href="http://www.cmj.com/artists/parquet-courts">Parquet Courts</a>
(and all of their various guises, of which this “Parkay Quarts” is
one). I knew they were on to something when my fortysomething cousin
called me from Colorado and asked, “Do you know this band with this song
where they mention your neighborhood? I really like it.” He’d heard <cite class="songtitle">Stoned and Starving</cite> (from their breakthrough 2013 album <cite>Light Up Gold</cite>) on satellite radio, and the song immediately clicked, as it had for thousands of previous listeners.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Parquet Courts have emerged as the standard-bearers for Brooklyn
indie rock, but don’t fault them for their unfortunate timing. As
Brooklyn reduces itself to a parody and multiple multinationals trip
over themselves in a frenzy to capitalize on this latest brand, there
are several car service fleets-worth of self-deluded artists to ship out
on a garbage barge first. The Courts are smart and never pretend otherwise. Unlike the Strokes,
you will not find a drop of faux-rock ‘n’ roll swagger in Parquet
Courts’ walk. Similarly, they make an indie limelight like Vampire
Weekend look clumsy and lazy. Following this year’s acclaimed <cite>Sunbathing Animal</cite>, <cite>Content Nausea</cite> is their second full-length of the year, even as a collaborative album with sludgy Brooklyn collective <a href="http://pcworship.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">PC Worship</a> waits in the wings.</span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Brittle, spare yet maximalist in sound, <cite>Content Nausea</cite>
is mostly successful, with a few key missteps. The title track is a
surge of forward motion as singer/guitarist Andrew Savage catalogs the
myriad ways this modern world brings him down. A refusal to consent in
the form of a breathless rant, <cite class="songtitle">Content Nausea</cite> furthers the band’s oblique take on the Minutemen. A cover of 13th Floor Elevators’ <cite class="songtitle">Slide Machine</cite>
aims for bleary-eyed, but here the Courts’ lack of accumulated years
shows through. Their angles are still too sharp to fit comfortably into
these well-worn threads. <cite class="songtitle">Pretty Machines,</cite> on the other hand, plays to their strengths—arch, nervous pop that slyly references Brian Eno’s early ’70s rock era.</span></span><cite class="songtitle"><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Psycho Structures</span></span></cite><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> and <cite class="songtitle">The Map</cite>
find PC’s core duo of Savage and Austin Brown delving into
home-recorded synth-damage. Unfortunately, after these triumphs, comes
an ill-advised cover of <cite class="songtitle">These Boots Are Made For Walking.</cite>
Oft-covered, seldom well, it’s the kind of standard of which the world
does not need more versions. Strictly free download promo material,
lads. As if to quickly scrub off that bad idea, the Courts blast through
<cite class="songtitle">Insufferable,</cite> another of their <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Tyevk/121015507944961" target="_blank">Tyvek</a>-indebted smartbombs. <cite class="songtitle">Uncast Shadow Of A Southern Myth,</cite>
a six-plus minute story of a song, is an ambitious conclusion that once
again proves Parquet Courts—or whatever their moniker mood—can handle
their own high expectations. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[What's Your Rupture?]</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Real Regular </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">s/t </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Like some extra-devolved clone of spliced DNA from Sockeye, Drunks With Guns and Flipper, Real Reg must’ve came out of the petri dish that was sitting in the sun. Clevo, Ohio is a nexus of down syndrome punk (</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">apologies to d/s readers -sensitive ed.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">) and Real Regular exemplify this pedigree with the glee of a drooling moron. At least Sockeye had living in Stow as an excuse, what’s these guys’ damage? Oh, right, The Black Eye. Anyway, Sauce boss Richard pounds away as the Bad Noids singer whines, spits, mewls and bleats tales of disease and dis-ease and dickcheese. It’s strange hearing someone who wasn’t even alive yet while it was a “thing,” singing songs about GRIDS (two of ‘em!). GRIDS is to AIDS as Rocket From The Tombs is to punk. “I’m Handsome” is strip-mall electric eels. What the fuck does that mean? It means it’s good. The last track is a long dissertation on being a weirdo and it sounds like No Trend got turned into the Muppets, and in case you were still wondering, that is also a good thing. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Saucepan; </span><a href="https://saucepanrecords.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://saucepanrecords.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Sapat </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A Posthuman Guide to the Advent Calendar Origins of the Peep Show </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">I
was, and still am, rather fond of Sapat’s debut LP on Siltbreeze,
released way back in 2007 (that’s “way back” now? - ed.). A fine
distillation of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">kosmische</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Americana and folked-up kraut moves, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mortise and Tenon</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
might just be one of the best US psych-rock full lengths of the last
decade. Since then, this Louisville-based collective has been mostly
silent. Sure, the participants have continued in other excellent
projects (such as Phantom Family Halo and Tropical Trash), but I long
had put aside any thoughts of a follow-up. Lo and behold, seven years
later -- four of which were spent intermittently recording -- local stalwart Sophomore
Lounge gives us a glimpse of what the on/off group has been dabbling
with. “Arson Lieder I/Our S(u)(o)n Leader” kicks it off with a slight
return to the psychedelic hillbilly angle of their initial 7”, but the
call-and-response male/female vocals imbue the ragtag mountain-jazz with
a theatrical air. It some ways, it sounds like a loose-limbed Cerebus
Shoal, so you can be assured that Sapat could care less about what you
-- or the general sub-underground -- think is cool. The rest of the
first side gets lost in a fog-shrouded forest and it’s not an unpleasant
situation. On side two opener, “Charlie Brown Italian Drug
Song/Vietnam,” Sapat accesses spiritual forebears Gong and their
galavanting gang of freaks. It opens with big, swiping horn patterns and
then settles into a drifting, spaced-out middle section with
otherworldly voices calling out to the cosmos. Here is Sapat at its
best, embracing the spaceways, summoning </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Yeti</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">
spirits with a rarely-heard ease. “Rock Face” is the too-long comedown; twelve minutes of steam being released. Could’ve used a little
more pressure building, personally, but for the most part, Sapat has
acquitted themselves well here. Old fans will be pleased, and potential
ones should pay attention.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Sophomore Lounge; </span><a href="http://sophomoreloungerecords.com/home.html" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://sophomoreloungerecords.com/home.html</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">] </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Shoes This High</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Straight To Hell </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">This is manna to me. Straight from the fuckin’ heavens and continuing on down until it reaches the bottom of hell. Pure and sharp, like a block of cheddar full of razor blades, Shoes This High are one “those” bands for yours truly. Essentially, perfect. Sound, aesthetic, execution, intent, passion, snot, and loads of rule-chucking. Since first falling in serious love with this phenomenal live show a few years ago via an Axeman’s blog, Siltbreeze answered my faithless prayers (see the blood-letting exorcism of “Christian Song”) and bestowed a remastered and resequenced (by Jared Phillips from TNV/Counter Intuits) disc of sorely-needed Shoes spite upon this undeserving planet (there’s even more material via the d/l so get on it, chum). Singer S. Brent Hayward’s desperate yelp gives me the same gooseflesh as Dave Wiley of The Consumers. His anger and intelligence are the focal point of STH. The songs veer between Fall-like angled jaunts (“Stuk,” “Sop Pong” ) and hammering fits (“Cretin Time,” “Scab”). </span></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">“Mental Whiff” approaches Gordons-level dissonance and intensity. </span></span></span>“Tunnel Vision” opens side two and it is a punk classic if there ever was one. Stealing and inverting the riff from The Enemy’s “Pull Down The Shades,” Hayward is in transcendental form here. “I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT WHERE I GO/AND I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE CLOTHES THAT I WEAR/I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANY<i>THING</i>…..TUNNEL VISION!.......I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK/AND I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANYTHING….<i>TUNNEL VISION</i>!” When Hayward starts moaning then screaming “Oh yeah” in perfect high-anxiety pitch, you better believe I am in full agreement. As evidenced by needling cuts like “Tic Toc” and “Menace,” Shoes This High exude obsession and paranoia, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Siltbreeze; </span><a href="http://siltbreezerecords.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://siltbreezerecords.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Total Control</span></b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><b> </b><i><b> </b></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Typical System </b></i><b>LP</b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Total Control’s <i>Henge Beat</i> was a tour de’ force of future-shock post-punk. On <i>Typical System</i>, the Melbourne-based
band’s follow-up, the<i> </i>paranoid
urgency remains -- “Systematic Fuck” and “Two Less Jacks” are satisfyingly
jagged blasts -- but the album throbs to an electronic pulse. “Glass” and
“Flesh War” are stellar examples of the icy yet sensuous new wave on which Gary
Numan based a career, and John Foxx-era Ultravox perfected. “Black Spring”
reaches back even further, gradually accruing layers of sound overtop a
Neu!-style <i>motorik </i>groove.
After the group comes to rest during the Stereloab-meets-Cluster
chill-out of “The Ferryman,” Total Control closes the album with "Safety
Net," a dose of elegant and majestic synth-pop.<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">[Iron Lung; <a href="http://lifeironlungdeath.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">http://lifeironlungdeath.blogspot.com/</a>] <i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><i> originally appeared in High Times mag</i></span> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Trash Kit </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Confidence </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Knotty,
fleet-footed, tangled, dive-bombing -- London’s Trash Kit owns these
descriptions with ease, engaging in the sort of fluid playing that can
only come from many hours in the practice room, but also a preternatural
bond that cannot be taught, and verges on the telepathic. Leaning less
towards the shrill excitement of The Slits, Trash Kit sound most like
ESG, with diamond-sharp guitar replacing layers of polyrhythm.
Throughout the album, Trash Kit raise their collective voice in joyous
harmony. The pointillist guitar approaches late-period Don Caballero and
the more buoyant, tropical-flavored lines echo early Abe Vigoda. While
Trash Kit’s music is comprised of constant push-pull, the album as a
whole possesses no peak, no swell and fade between the tracks
themselves. “Cinema” features some lovely melodies being tossed back and
forth by the bass and guitar, and the band is certainly comfortable
with space and silence. While individual songs may be hard to recall,
Trash Kit’s obsessively tumbling and frantic music puts you in a unique
frame of mind, your brain performing mental flips and follies as the
band slips in and around, parrying and jousting, pricking and poking. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Upset The Rhythm; <a href="http://www.upsettherhythm.co.uk/">http://www.upsettherhythm.co.uk/</a>]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Ultrathin <i> </i></b></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i>s/t </i>LP</b></span> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">{<i>disclaimer: the following was written for promotional purposes but I stand by all observations contained below</i>} </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Montreal’s <span class="il">Ultrathin</span> have been hammering out their distinct
take on psychedelic punk for more than a few years now. A single, a tape, a
series of killer shows with bands like Soupcans and PyPy; <span class="il">Ultrathin</span> hasn’t been
idle. But now, with their debut LP courtesy of Bruised Tongue, the ‘thin have
finally broken the surface. <span class="il">Ultrathin</span> is stepping towards the light, so to
speak, and have dropped one of the year’s finest displays of frustrated punk
and bad-acid psych.</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Opener “White Walls” establishes the <span class="il">Ultrathin</span> template –
head-down rhythmic drive led by drummer Matthew Wilson as bassist Mark Fragua’s
desperate vocals fight to be heard above Shaun Anderson’s corrosive guitar
mangling. “Got A Feeling” focuses these elements into a blistering punk attack.
“I Wanna Know” transitions effortlessly from mid-tempo burn to a ride off into
the sunset, sparks trailing everywhere. I’m sure you can figure out what “Scum
With A Badge” is about, and while “Discharge” ain’t d-beat, it’s still punk as
fuck. So’s their cover of the Pagans’ “Real World.” “Whac-A-Mole” shows off
<span class="il">Ultrathin</span>’s snotty garage roots, which feels almost pleasant after the annihilating
meltdown of “Out From the Cold.” In case you still had any doubts, “In My Mind”
will erase them, closing out the album with a Spacemen 3-like intensity.</span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">[Bruised Tongue; </span></span>
<a href="http://bruisedtongue.com/wordpress/" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">http://bruisedtongue.com/wordpress/ </span></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Unholy Two </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Talk About Hardcore </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Wow, I am completely shocked. Flabbergasted, even. This total 180 by Columbus OH skummfucccs Unholey Too is, suffice to say, very unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome. I mean, who doesn’t like rockin’ Bloc Party-esque bangers mixed up with the occasional stab at a Wilco-style confessional? You didn’t think Lutzko had it in him, but that’s where you’re fuckin’ wrong, pal. Dude’s an artist. He probably liked The Chameleons before you’d ever even heard of Wax Idols. He’s not just a haircut, y’know. Or a drug problem. He’s a human being doing human being things. Like having his heart broken and just wanting to dance all night. Shake that ass, Chris, shake it til the sun comes up. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> [12XU; </span><a href="http://www.12xu.net/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.12xu.net</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">White Murder </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">s/t </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">LP</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">After
a slew of killer 7”s, a few cool videos and tons of excellent live
notices, LA’s White Murder dropped this short n’ sweet platter on us
(the way to my heart is a 45 rpm 12”; got that ladies?). These ten songs
are less aggressive than the single sides -- not that Mike D’Amico’s
driving, melodic (trademark) bass lines are any less driving or melodic.
The duel vocals by Hannah H. and Mary Animal (both also of Jail
Weddings) are the focal point, employing what sounds like spiteful
harmony. “Baby Boy” is about bad girls and fingering good girls with
drumsticks. Unless I’m reading that wrong. Either way, somebody’s
getting fucked. “Mirrors” is the anti-”I’ll Be Your Mirror,” telling you
to deal with your own shit, ain’t no reflection gonna save your ass.
[Razorcake/Recess; </span><a href="http://www.razorcake.org/razorcake-records" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">http://www.razorcake.org/razorcake-records</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Zigtebra <i> </i></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><i>The Brave</i> LP</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Part
of a package FPE graciously sent yours truly, Zigtebra is, to put it
mildly, definitely not for me. Not just in the sense that I don’t care
for it (I don’t), but I honestly feel like this music is for, and of, a
generation that I have very little commonalities with. Well, outside the
general malaise and formless anger of 21st century America, that is.
Wait, scratch that, there is zero rage here, only cupcakes and
marshmallows and ticklefights. I’m not proud of it, but I witnessed the
rise of Brooklyn’s own Matt & Kim from a close vantage point, and
while it didn’t necessarily surprise me, I’m still left puzzled by their
brief extreme borough popularity. That’s disingenuous. I know exactly
why they appealed to a horde of grown children, I just don't want to
admit it. They had an undeniable infectious energy live, but it was much
like getting excited for recess at school. Sure, it was better than
algebra, but the high vanished soon after being herded back into the
classroom. Zigtebra are a similar guy/gal duo, and while their songs are
of a piece with M&K and maybe...Tune-Yards?.... they are lacking
the romper room-style rambunctiousness. This album is like hearing a
couple of indie nerds fall in love, and if that sounds like your cup of
tea, by all means, put the kettle on. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[FPE; <a href="http://www.fperecs.com/">http://www.fperecs.com/</a> ]</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">A few guys in Lafayette, Indiana get the itch to throb out with their knobs out, and the results are goshdarn groovy. The first tape -- which we’ll call </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Spring</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> -- is a slowly yawning chasm that eventually swallows you whole. Old-school power electronics collide with long-form drone and as the first side winds down, the drone emerges triumphant and the sonic negation is recast as psychedelic and transcendent. But, wait, the sounds of construction bring it back to earth, dumping you face-first into a bucket of nails. Oh well, can’t live in the clouds forever, junior. Other side is the endless sift through the detritus, the bone-numbing slog to nowhere. Pack a lunch, you’ll need it. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Summer </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">is the new tape and the addition of evil, subliminal vocals bring Suicide into the frame, giving the swell of sound a focus. The flip is more explicitly Throbbing Gristle in nature, as soiled voice manipulations of prerecorded narration fought to be heard above a steaming morass of attack and decay.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Castle Bravo; </span><a href="https://castlebravotapes.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://castlebravotapes.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Drose/Murderedman</span> split</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Tour tape by two of Ohio’s best and heaviest with, what I believe, is exclusive material. Drose are unjustly overlooked at this point. Sure, they’re a bit inscrutable, but that’s what you want out of this nearly monk-like approach to such brutal and austere music. Here they are a tad less metal, almost no wave, but still very much in the Drose vein of space/smash/space/soar/smash/space. “A Flame” is like a day in the salt mines. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Are you ready for the future?</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> Drose are a no-brainer for Swans fans, so what’s Pitchfork waiting for? Murderedman continue with their high-voltage blend of noise/rock that isn’t afraid to sing into its toothbrush in front of the mirror(s). </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">(Soundesign; </span><a href="http://www.polarenvy.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.polarenvy.com</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Excellent Baltimore group who are mining the rich vein of smart-guy spiky pop in the tradition of the best C86 groups and NZ heroes like The Chills or any number of Shayne Carter bands. There’s even a smattering of Bona Dish here and there. Repeated listens of “Midnight Garden” led my mind into tricking me into thinking it was a Monochrome Set cover. It’s that good of a song. Five winners here, and I would expect to see more of this band in 2015. Apparently they are on their third pressing of this cassette, so grab it while you can.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[self-released; </span><a href="https://expertalterations.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://expertalterations.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fat Vegan </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Music To Eat Tofu To</span> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">cass</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Fat Vegan makes the rest of the Saucepan roster look like genii. Here’s where Sockeye really makes their influence felt. Who hasn’t rocked out to Toughskins on occasion though? Whatever, go slob on Hard Skin’s knob a little more, eh? Fat Vegan are singing about meat, fava beans, Public Square and pupusas (Richard’s specialty). Culinarycore -- they’ll cut you with that chef’s knife right before they julienne some carrots to stuff into their burger cuz even vegetables taste good if there’s meat involved.</span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[Saucepan; </span><a href="https://saucepanrecords.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://saucepanrecords.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Qwanqwa</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Volume One</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">FPE is really showing off the breadth of their label here with a fine collection of music by this Ethiopian band which features an American violinist. These cats play crazy instruments like the </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">krar</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">, a bowl-shaped lyre, which, when amplified, sounds like some trippy-ass guitar fingering. The three songs on the first side are particularly killer. I’m not hugely knowledgeable about the bevy of music recently made available of African rock-type bands (these guys are less rock than some), but I’ve heard enough to know that this stands up quite well. It’s not blazing like Group Inerane and other Tuareg bands, but they build up quite a head of steam at points. There is common ground here with Erkin Koray as the strings are often engaged in that woozy dance he did so well. Shit, for all I know this band is like the Headhunters of Addis Ababa. One thing I do know is that I dig it.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[FPE; </span><a href="http://www.mixcloud.com/qwanqwaband" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">www.mixcloud.com/qwanqwaband</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sex Tide/Bloody Show</span> split</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Superhero-style team-up between two sets of Columbus rockers; recorded/mixed/mastered at the same house. Sex Tide bash out eight songs of Pussy Galore-indebted basement thrashings, walking familiar ground but with gusto. Some of the cuts from their A Wicked Company 12” are repeated including that one with the “You Only Live Twice” riff. Not only do I really like Bloody Show’s name, I also really like the people behind it. I played with them just a few months ago and they delivered a solid set. The raw recording doesn’t do their hard rock swagger justice -- Bloody Show isn’t really a punk band per se, they are more in the mold of a Sonic’s Rendezvous Band or some other gang of ‘70s proto-punks. Shit, they’re nearly bonehead crunching all over this motherfucker. With titles like “Gendernaut,” “Magic Negro” and “Anonymous Cock,” you know Bloody Show ain’t fuckin around. They end it with a cool cover of Modern Lovers’ “She Cracked.” This tape equals mission accomplished -- I’m now looking forward to hearing more Bloody Show with a bigger, better recording. [self-released; </span><a href="https://bloodyshow.bandcamp.com/album/sex-tide-bloody-show" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://bloodyshow.bandcamp.com/album/sex-tide-bloody-show</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Team Ugly</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Meat Prize</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Cassette collecting two previous EPs by this Auckland (that’s in New Zealand -geo ed.) band. “Why Won’t Anybody Have Sex With Me” is a question we have all asked ourselves at some (or many) points in our lives and Team Ugly </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">really</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> wants to know. The pent-up sexual frustration is made manifest in the herky-jerky (see what I did there) punk Team Ugly traffic in. “No More Dry Nights” eh? Somebody needs to tell these guys that sounding like the Fire Engines doesn’t get you laid most anywhere on the globe. And yes, it </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">is</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> fucking bullshit. But the woman singing on some of these tracks provides some contrast and gives me hope for these fellas yet. [self-released; </span><a href="https://team-ugly.bandcamp.com/" style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: underline; vertical-align: baseline;">https://team-ugly.bandcamp.com/</span></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">WACSAC</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Four Seasons</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">String Quartets</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Ambitious music from FPE honcho and former Fat Day-ist Matt Pakulski. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Four Seasons </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">is a composition for orchestra, for chrissakes. Hey pal, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">Mute Tremors</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> ain’t the friggin’ </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">New York Times</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">! It’s kind of a shame that these works are relegated to cassette, but that’s the hard truth of these lean fossil-fueled times. Although much (all?) of </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Four Seasons</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> was created on a computer, it still would benefit from the higher fidelity. The sounds themselves can be a bit jarring, as some are more obviously artificial than others. I prefer side two’s more stately air. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">String Quartets </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">is better, less shrill and perhaps more soundtrack-like in execution. Matt seems to have gotten a better handle on the software, because the sounds are damn near natural. It’s quite pleasant. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">String Quartets</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;"> is some Sunday morning reading the Arts section shit, and I mean that as a compliment.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[FPE; see all up & down the page]</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">The Pink Line</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">See the review of the Zigtebra LP above. Now, you’d probably think I hate this. But actually, it’s not so bad. The duo is much more lo-fi here in a classic indie stylee. Zigtebra throw their horseshoe a lot closer to the K Records marker on this cassette and that’s a spot I can sit in for awhile. </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">[FPE; see above & above & etc]</span></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-55525728502926322572014-11-09T19:29:00.000-08:002015-01-28T13:08:37.370-08:00LET ME OFF<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Said she was a slut with a slit. Said she was a real stupid
cunt. Said she couldn’t find her ass even if she fell in a hole in the ground.
Said she was a hopeless miserable bitch who he wished would die. Even if he had
to kill her himself. It was the most eloquent shit I ever heard him say. But he
talked about it a lot, so it was almost like he was a poet. Shakespeare and
Travis Bickle, together at last. The bastard was a real piece of work.</span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Four days a week, at 10:45 PM, Digger would pick me up in
his beat-to-shit taxi and shuffle me off to work at the plant. My job was to
police the silence of nighttime and midwife it into daybreak. I read a lot of
thick, impenetrable books and tried not to fall asleep. Come quarter to eleven,
if I wasn’t down on the street waiting, Digger would lay on his horn like he
had just been shot execution-style and his head had found its final resting
place in the center of the steering wheel. After I’d get in, careful not to
blow my knees out rushing down the stairs, he’d carp, “Goddammit, Smecks, you
know I hate the Puerto Rican doorbell. Why you make me do that shit?” I’d catch
his eye in the rearview and throw a sneer at him, but I always ended up
grinning like a doofus. The guy was an asshole, but at least he was a punctual
asshole.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">On a typical night, Digger would floor it, peeling out like
a teenager who had just seen his first Steve McQueen flick. This might be the only time
he ever approached what you would call happiness. Digger was a sour man, bent
and twisted by life. He didn’t have any illusions. There was no happy ending
off in the distance. I imagine he saw his life as one long complaint – a
self-perpetuating gripe as deep and wide as a galaxy, and twice as old. Digger
enjoyed needling his invisible enemies endlessly, as if he were engaged in some
sort of joust on the astral plane. He unfurled many a winding tale of seething
annoyance, narrating all sorts of mundane details from his irksome existence. It
could be exhausting, but undeniably entertaining, especially when he jabbed at
some vague figure’s character, drawing on all his powers of description to
launch a pitiless attack. To sail the unassailable. It was glorious, in a
pathetic way. But he saved the real hatred, the bloodletting fury, for his
poor, dear mother. The bitch. The cow.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Y’know what happened the other day? I got up to piss in the
middle of the night, as I often do. I’m gettin old. My bladder was bursting. I
tripped over some fuckin box on the way to the john, nearly broke my goddamn
neck. Anyway, I’m leaning on the wall, letting it fly, when what do I fuckin
see? Of course, you guessed it, Einstein, I saw my cunt of a mother’s face in
the bowl. That stupid smile she used to walk around with. Like nothing was
wrong. Like life was peachy. Like God gave a fuck about her. So I drain the
whole lizard on that whore’s face, but then I feel a little rumble down there. A
gurgling, y’know? So I hadda seat. I start pushing, really pushing, like I was
giving birth to twins. Some fat fuckin twins. Comin out shoulders first, too, I
might add. We’ve all been there, right, Smecks? You’ve shit out your share of
kids, I bet."</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">An unwanted image of Digger on the toilet, straining with
the might of a demi-god -- red-faced, near heart attack -- comes barreling into
my mind’s eye. A hint of a gag, but I manage to subsume it with a swig of
lukewarm joe. God damn you, Digger, you’re already halfway towards ruining my
night.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“I tell ya, Smecks, I can’t remember what I ate that day,
but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was a leg of lamb with a side of lasagna. It
hurt like a sumbitch, lemme tell ya. Felt like it was stuck up there, wedged in
hard.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Flash on an image of a soldier during World War One. A
frightened teenage infantryman stuck in a trench, surrounded by his dead
comrades, pinned down by enemy fire. Sweat and blood rolled down his filthy
face. The soldier was Digger’s obstructed nugget of shit, and all I can think is,
<i>Lord, if you are there, please take this
unfortunate soul to heaven, his time on earth is complete.</i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Smecks, I’m telling you. I was contemplating doing a
C-section on myself. Has anyone ever C-sectioned their guts to remove a giant
piece of shit? A half hour must’ve gone by -- I tried reading a titty mag, I
tried doing my taxes in my head, I recited the London Bus Driver’s Prayer a few
times over, all sorts of crap. Nothing doing, but no way was Ma gonna get off
that easily. Not again. Not this time. She had it coming. She was gonna eat my
shit if it was the last thing I did. I was willing to pull an Elvis if it meant
that Ma had to swallow it. At least I could die happy.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Digger kept glancing into the rearview, trying to gauge my
reaction. But by this juncture in our relationship, I knew it was best to
remain mute, body language included. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Smecks, c’mon man. Nothin?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Then Digger ripped a massive fart, nearly fatal in its
repugnance. Motherfucker was engaging in biochemical warfare. I cover my entire
face with my shirt and yell out, “Not fuckin cool, Digger!” But my voice is
muffled and Digger is staring into the rearview, laughing his ass off.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Can you at least look at the fucking road, man?!”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Smehhhhhhhhhhks, c’mon, guy, you’ve smelled worse. I saw
your last girlfriend.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">At this, he lets out a bellowing guffaw, and I curse his mother
for not having smothered this piece of human garbage in the crib. I look out
the window, but all I see are long shadows cast by telephone poles and hulking
factories looming over the city. Everywhere seemed doomed, like it barely even
had a chance to actually live.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Hey, it’s not like I haven’t smelled your shit. Remember?
Do I have to remind you?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“No. Of course not.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">My name isn’t “Smecks.” Only Digger called me that, and I
tolerated it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Because Digger saved my life one night. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">It was back when I used to drink like a fish who thought he
was gonna run out of water. I drank whiskey like water. And sometimes rum. Even
though I hated rum. Rum is for fucking parrots and flamingos and crocodiles. Or
the human version. Regardless, it’s disgusting and it made me careless and
detached. Even more than normal.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The night in question, I was careening home, my legs trying
to run off without my torso, when these three kids, who must’ve been extremely bored,
or maybe it was a gang initiation, who the hell knows these days. It doesn’t
matter. They beat the shit out of me. They threw me down and just started
kicking. 1-2-3 and a 1-2-3, the only thought that I had was my brain trying to
lock down on the rhythm in which they were pummeling me. It wasn’t quite 4/4,
but it wasn’t a waltz. It might take two to tango, but it takes three to put a
lush in a coma. I was only a block from my apartment, but I might as well have
been a million miles away. I felt myself giving up. I blame the rum, but really
I just wanted it to be over. All of it. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Call it fate, call it what you will, but Digger and his hack
came squealing around the corner, probably on a drunken joyride. When his
headlights flashed on the power trio beating the life out of me, he slammed on
the brakes. From within his car, with the windows up, Digger could hear the
kicks landing on my prone body. To Digger, safe inside his machine, it sounded
like SMECK SMECK SMECK. He later told me that he was struck by how fake and
cartoon-y the sound was -- even the sight of these teenagers kicking the crap
out of me seemed staged, like some goofy reality show. None of this stopped
Digger from rolling down his passenger-side window and pulling the Saturday night
special out from under his seat. He pointed it at the startled kids and said,
with a measure of convincing bravado, “One more smack and your mother goes to a
funeral next week.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Sometimes I think I made this part up, but with the brief respite
in blows, I was suddenly aware of the world at large, not just the self-pitying
part of me that wouldn’t mind slipping off this mortal coil.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">After dragging me into his taxi, Digger rushed me to the
hospital at nearly 100 mph. He didn’t seem to flinch when he realized that I
had lost control of my bowels. During the beating, I had shit my pants. Gooey, runny
shit-stuff ran down my legs and pooled in my shoe. My socks turned from black
to brown. I smelled like a corpse who had let loose his last load. Digger
didn’t mind.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">He even came to visit me in the hospital. When I got out, he
offered to drive me to work at a generously reduced rate. I couldn’t refuse.
Despite his noxious character, he had a heart of gold. A heart of gold and a
stomach full of putrid waste, locked up tight.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“I’m pushing and pushing and pushing, picturing Ma’s ugly
mug at the bottom of that toilet bowl, big smile on her dumb face, getting
ready to gargle this huge turd working it’s way out. I was straining so bad, I
pulled a muscle in my chest. Don’t ask me how, but I felt it kinda snap, and
then it felt like someone knifed me.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">We were almost at the plant. It was going be a long night.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Christ, Digger, what the fuck are you telling me this for?
I already know how much you hate your mother. Why don’t you call her up and
tell her this shit? I’m sure she would appreciate it more than me.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Oh that ain’t gonna happen.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Why the hell not?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Cuz she died.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“What? How? When?”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Giving birth. To me.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">He hit the brakes. We were right outside the plant.</span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Digger, I –--“</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">“Shut the fuck up, Smecks. Seeya tomorrow night.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">--originally appeared in Expatlitjournal #2 </span></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
</div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-62944811229010891942014-08-30T23:08:00.000-07:002014-11-03T18:00:02.677-08:00LINER NOTES FOR LIVEFASTDIE SINGLES COLLECTION test pressing <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">HIT STAINS</span></span></b><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Hey stupid!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Yeah, you, you fuckin idiot, is there anyone else
there?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Course not, yer all by yer lonesome, wallowing in yer own filth,
drinking last
night’s dinner, eyeballing days-old pizza perched precariously above the
trash
(aka the floor). Luckily for you there is LiveFastDie to keep you
company. Get
on yer knees and pray to the almighty Lord GG, cuz LFD wrote a song for
each of
your life’s concerns. For instance, there’s the uplifting message
contained in
the dirt-boogie grooves of “Not A Dog” (“you’re not a dog/you’re a
man”), and
even a piece of free advice: “Don’t shit where you eat.” Kim Fowley
would be
proud (maybe? who cares). For dirtbag New Yorkers in the latter part of
the
first decade of this century, LFD was the closest we were gonna get to a
“new
Ramones.” If you think that’s hyperbolic, my guess is that you haven’t
heard
“Pissing on the Mainframe.” You wouldn’t think a message board could
spawn such
an infectious international hit, but therein lies the cunning of Camero
Werewolf. “Webshits and
BlahBlahBlahs” was made solely as an internet-only piss-take/kiss-off
based on
some Goner Board shenanigans that most people have probably forgotten
(not I,
said the fly), and it sounds better than ever – proof of the idea of
spontaneous inspiration from unlikely sources. “Dawn of the VHS”
celebrates
those sources with one of LFD’s finest songs, and typically blazing
axe-action
by the Wolfman. He protests that he ain’t no “Guitar Star,” but the way
he tosses
off molten leads left n’ right proves otherwise. Camero’s got you nailed
– who hasn’t woken up from a night of “fun”
feeling like you had “Alcoholic AIDS?” Tough titty, they still haven't
found a cure, but I hear you can lead a "normal" life these days. Is
there a more punk song title than
“Pizza and Vomit?” It’s like Camero Werewolf is looking directly into
the abyss
of your soul. And he approves. I never really gave a fuck about video
games,
but I bet you do, or at least did, nerd, and the sick swivel-shake of
“Got
Nitedo” will make y’all nostalgic and want to smash your dumb face into
the
screen. “Do I Look Like a Bank to You” is a totally legit question, and
I’ve
been on both sides of that one. Um, I’m going with “sometimes.” One time
I witnessed a tense
table session regarding the authorship of “Thought You Could Steal My
Beer." It took a few massive bong hits to sort that
one out. Phew. Another time, I tagged along on a 3 day tour of the
Midwest. We
spent 24 out of 72 hours in the car. An El Camino. We got ripped off for
a bag
in Clevo. There was a lot of farting and snoring.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">After listening to these ear-peeling shit-fi anthems of
yesterday, you may be wondering: Camero Werewolf – genius or con artist? As
always, the truth lies somewhere in the middle -- the middle of your fat
fuckin’ ass.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">- Doc Toxic</span><br />
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-62901493513004737242014-03-24T10:20:00.002-07:002015-01-28T19:14:55.806-08:00some FUCKIN' RECORD REVIEWS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Autodramatics</span> ‘Reaction’ LP</b>
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Former Horror (Iowa not UK)
Andy Caffrey comes roaring back on this self-released platter. Plenty of
fuzz coats some pretty good songs, with some pretty women singing most of them.
“Tigerman” tears it up, hell the whole record does. ‘<i>Reaction</i>’ could’ve come out on Crypt circa 199something and you
wouldn’t’ve thought anything was amiss. Ironically, mebbe ahm jus’ gettin’ ol’,
but a little more fidelity could’ve helped a bit, there’s not a lot of sonic depth
to the band itself. But they could prolly give a shit, so why don’t I shut it.
Side B opener “Go Be a Lesbian” is the headsticker, and the swampy blues of the
title track get you prepared for the last-call jones of “Methadone."<i> (Obsolete // </i><a href="mailto:theeobsolete@gmail.com"><i>theeobsolete@gmail.com</i></a><i>)</i></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span></span>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Bone</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span> ‘For Want of Feeling’
LP</b></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Bleak and uncompromising,
Bone pull off the weight of their intention. Any band who uses scenes from one
of the most fucked movies ever filmed (‘Begotten’) is not dicking around for
shits n’ giggles and nuthin’ but a good time. Bone is originally from Perth,
with Cuntz drummer Mike on bass, but neither of those bits of knowledge prepare
you for the desolate sound of math-rock stripped of all equations, post-punk
stripped of any hope, replaced with a steel exoskeleton. A song like “Pedestal”
is a perfect fusion of the choked hopelessness of early Swans and the
right-angled grooves of the best Shellac. The construction of these songs
sneaks into your head when you’re not listening, and when you do listen, they
reveal themselves to have all sorts of memorable passages embedded. There is a
similar path being trod as Drose, although less metal, more wire-y. Over the
course of steady listens for the past half year or so, <i>For Want of Feeling</i> has maintained itself as a compelling listen.<i> (Tenzenmen // <a href="http://tenzenmen.com/" target="_blank">tenzenmen.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Division Four</b></span> <b>‘1983 Demo Cassette’ 12” </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This is goddamn glorious. I
live for this shit. Thank you Smart Guy and dude from anti-PC punx Rupture for
digging this little gemstone of a post-punk EP up from the cellar. Thirty years
ago, five guys on the far side of the world (Perth, Oz) got together, jettisoned
the guitar (doubling up the bass in lieu), and squeezed out this six-song
mini-masterpiece. Of course, maybe a hundred tapes get made, and Division Four
sink into the memory of the punk-scarred few that are still drawing breath
following their self-destructive youth. There are similarities to what Soft Drinks
were doing as regards to synth-driven punk, but Division Four were far more
serious, and even more acerbic. “Doctor’s Wife” busts in like an accessible
Screamers, singer Alan Hooper asserting himself with incisive lyrics and a
snide vocal delivery that slices quick and deep. “Blank Prostitutes” is my
kinda synth-punk, Hooper delivering the lines “Open your wallet and I’ll open
my legs/Fuck me til you’re broke/ Your 20 dollars will buy me a hit/Take me
away from life’s tedious shit” with such knowing disgust, that you imagine him
creeping through alleys, telling himself he’s just doing “research.” It’s that
Travis Bickle kind of disgust, the sort that comes from being at the same level
as the scum surrounding you. But just when you think it’s all curled-lip bile, side
two opens up with the lovely OMD-on-a-budget “I Was Walking”; it’s sensitive
New Wave underpinnings go exactly where you expect them to, and the song is no
weaker for it. “Azzaria” combines both these modes, verses positively seething
in a Rotten-esque manner, chorus resolving into melody, the whole thing
reminiscent of <i>Flowers of Romance</i>-era
PiL, and reverse vice-versa, Total Control. This EP-that-never-was wraps itself
up with the epic trudge of “Sewer Song,” a pit of sonic quicksand sucking you
deeper into its foul embrace. Much like this 12”, it’s life-affirming in the
worst possible way. <i>(Smart Guy//<a href="http://smartguyrecords.com/" target="_blank">smartguyrecords.com</a>)</i></span></span><br />
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ONLYS <i>House of Spirits </i>LP</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The Fresh & Onlys are perplexing. Although they are
linked to the recently ascendant San Francisco garage rock scene, they are not
really a garage band per se. The Fresh & Onlys traffic in the sort of late
‘80s jangle best defined by Flying Nun’s roster, hewing particularly close to the
literate sensibilities of bands such as The Verlaines, The Bats and The Chills.
Unfortunately, <i>House of Spirits</i>, The
Fresh & Onlys’ fifth album in nearly as many years, is far too languid for
its own good. The Fresh & Onlys bear a superficial resemblance to standard-setters
like Echo and The Bunnymen but, filtered through their Laurel Canyon-leaning
West Coast haze, the music is lacking the kind of drama and tension that marks
the truly memorable. Where Tim Cohen’s vocals should soar, scream or sink low,
they remain at a consistent monotone, rendering his occasionally poetic lyrics
into lukewarm sentiments that do not invite further investigation. Cohen seems
almost embarrassed to show any visceral emotion that may get the listener’s
blood pumping. Ironically, it’s the songs that intend to slow the pulse
down that make the strongest impression. “Bells of Paonia” ditches the guitars
for a bass-heavy throb featuring elegiac vocals. If “I’m Awake” doesn’t put you
to sleep, “Hummingbird” will quicken the pulse a bit, it’s still not enough. After
a stretch of colorless, Paisley Underground-recalling, ostensibly rock songs, closer
“Madness” mines similar territory as “Bells,” and is far more successful than the
bland tracks that precede it. In a different era, The Fresh & Onlys music
would have been deemed “college rock,” but, all things considered, now such
sounds are quite firmly in the realm of NPR “rock,” tote bag not included. [Mexican Summer]</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The Gotobeds</span> </b> <b>“Ipso Facto” 7”</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Now here’s something to sink your
goddamn teeth into. Who'da thunk it? A kick-ass new indie rock single in 2013?!?
Say it is so, Joe. Packaged in a snazzy sleeve w/ a printed inner, this “record
store day” release (part of a singles series of local bands by Pittsburgh’s Mind
Cure record store) hits all the right buttons at all the right moments. “Ipso Facto”
is like a great lost Volcano Suns tune rung thru a Swell Maps sweat towel. One
rocking guitar, one chiming guitar and a melodic bass driving an insistent
rhythm; is that so fucking hard, people? (help, I’m turning into Andrew Earles)
Look here, folks, a cool breakdown followed by an extended coda. Is it too late
to make up my mind? B-side? Oh, just an above-average run-thru of a lil’ rager
called “Television Addict.” Personally (and you know I like to get personal), I
wish someone would attempt to out-trip-over-your-own-guitar-chords “TV Freak,”
but I also like <i>American Horror Story</i>,
so whadda I know? I think I know that there’s an LP coming soon courtesy of 12XU,
so……..cool beans.<i> (Mind Cure // <a href="http://mindcurerecords.com/" target="_blank">mindcurerecords.com</a></i>)</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Following
the dissolution of the long-running esoterrorist art collective Sun City Girls
(feels disingenuous and pedestrian to call them a “band”), Alan Bishop found
himself in post-Tahrir Square Cairo with a fistful of songs and a need to make
sense of the chaos around him. With the help of a few skilled Egyptian
musicians, Bishop was able to complete this excellent self-titled album. <i>The Invisible Hands</i> conjures a somber
and elegiac mood; the bitter, biting humor of songs like “Hitman Boy” and “Nice
On Ice” is pitch-black, nearly suffocating in its hopelessness. “Soma” brings
sha-la-las and bright, nearly Beatles-esque accompaniment to an aching plea for
“freedom from the slaughter.” Despite its carefully orchestrated and
masterfully executed musical framework, violence seems to stalk every step of
The Invisible Hands’ existence. “Black Blood” finds Bishop channeling Leonard
Cohen; a lament for fallen friends, abducted and tortured by secret police.
“Death Zoo” closes the album with a shuddering finality.<b> </b>Fortunately, Bishop is able to balance his fatalistic gallows
humor with meticulous sonic detail and deft playing from his cohorts. And this
really comes in handy for part two of <i>The
Invisible Hands</i>, which shows that Bishop is no mere dilettante cautiously
dipping his toes into exotic waters. On this companion album, the same songs
are performed (with slightly different mixes), but here they are given voice by
Aya Hemeda and guitarist Cherif El-Masri. This is protest music, and it needs
to be heard by everyone. Apparently a documentary is in the works, so stay
tuned. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">(<i>Abduction; <a href="http://www.suncitygirls.com/abduction/" target="_blank">http://www.suncitygirls.com/abduction/</a></i>) </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Joel RL Phelps & the Downer Trio </span> ‘Gala’ LP</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The people love Silkworm, as
well they should, but the best
Silkworm stuff is early-mid 90s when they were a four-piece, and this cat, Joel
Phelps, played second guitar and wrote/sang about a third of their songs. After
he split following ‘<i>Libertine</i>,’ the
band was still good, but diminished without his idiosyncratic voice, both
literal and writing. His physical voice is a weedy but strikingly powerful
presence, and it enhances songs of naked emotion and a sort of existential
clutching -- for others, for meaning, for something, for anything. Phelps’ trio
of songs from personal S’worm high point <i>Into
the West</i>, still send shivers racing down my spine. Even now, I’m still
slightly unnerved by the time I saw this line-up and Phelps played the entire
set sitting in a chair with his back facing the crowd, periodically and
reluctantly stepping up to the mic, and letting loose with a caterwaul that
sounded exactly as his contorted body looked. And that’s pretty much where I’ve
kept Phelps all these years, trapped in my own little memory box. But, with his
Downer Trio, he went on making records every few years. I never really checked
in, which was stupid, cuz the guy is talented, and he’s not so far removed from
those twenty year-old songs. ‘<i>Gala’</i> is
the first new one in nine years, and opens with two meticulously-recorded (you
can hear every inch of that drumkit, in a warm, non-clinical way) songs -- sparse, yet tense, full of feints, parries and surges. And it continues apace,
stopping for the occasional murder ballad (“Exiting the Garden”). <i>‘Gala’ </i>is an excellent record of minimalist
rock music played with a subtle grandiosity that compliments its blatant
honesty. <i>(12XU // <a href="http://www.12xu.bigcartel.com/" target="_blank">www.12xu.bigcartel.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I was pretty excited by the
prospect of this release, but decidedly underwhelmed with the finished product
itself. While it’s obvious that a lifetime of love went into this
career-spanning collection, I’m not so sure Neo Boys deliver the musical goods.
At least not to an extent that justifies this overlong overview. I’ve always
dug the first Neo Boys single (put out by fellow Portlander Greg Sage’s Trap
Records), particularly the B-side “Rich Man’s Dream.” Their excellent ‘<i>Crumbling Myths</i>’ EP opens with another
of their finest songs, “Poor Man’s Jungle” (detecting a theme here?). ‘<i>Sooner or Later</i>’ jumbles a pile of Neo
Boys recordings into a sprawling mess of mid-level femme post-punk. Neo Boys
are not boys, but they don’t quite equal the heights of the best in the
worldwide boom of female-guided post-punk. As a local concern, the Neo Boys are
a classic Portland punk band, but too much of this collection is flat, tuneless
and doesn’t quite justify their legendary rep. I’m not trying to out-and-out
diss da Boys, they have some good stuff, and you can certainly hear their
influence in a band like Grass Widow. But a single LP with the 45, the 12” and
maybe the best of the unreleased stuff would have gone a lot further in solidifying
their legacy. We don’t always need the kitchen sink. And no, that’s not a “wash
the dishes, woman” pun, it’s a plea against warts n’ all. Calvin, some more
careful curation next time, please.<i> (K // <a href="http://krecs.com/" target="_blank">krecs.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">I’m completely biased re:
Pamps by both geography and friendship. I don’t care. You’re a dumbfuck if loud-ass
banging cavemen-who-can-write-songs-type rock n’ roll is your bag. And you’re a
dumbfuck if it ain’t. If the cover (by bassist/singer Jordan Lovelace) grosses
you out, we’re off to a good start. These guys are getting up there in years,
so any resemblance to an Oblivian or Spit-style pummel is not a coincidence,
nor is it some new affectation. It just is. Lovelace-yelled “Not” is a live
favorite, a relentless rocker with a sweet change-up. With bad-ass new slamma-jammas
like “The Wigga,” I’ll admit I was slightly bummed about re-recorded 7” cuts,
but damn this version of “Monkey Drip” is just stellar. Carl’s songs are
generally more melodic, and his “Purple Brain” is the winner on this debut, and
was quite literally, my favorite song of this past summer. To me it sounds like
a science-fiction ode to love – spacejunked Devo. But the extended psyched-out
pounding of side one closer “Sack Attack” comes in a close number two (and live
it’ll make you doo-doo). Nice to see the boys on such an esteemed label. I
think this was recorded in a cabin in the middle of the woods. Well done,
boners.<i> (In The Red // <a href="http://intheredrecords.com/" target="_blank">intheredrecords.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">PyPy are somewhat of a
Montreal supergroup, pulling together Choyce from Red Mass/CPC Gangbangs and
Annie-Claude, dynamo singer of aggro-electro unit Duchess Says. ‘Pagan Day’ is
a hard record, and a party record. PyPy songs are not quite Andrew WK
posi-anthems, and based on the death disco of “Too Much Cocaine,” hard drugs
may have contributed to the decadent squall made by this quartet. “New York”
captures a sleazy post-punk vibe better than just about any bearded fuckface
from the 11211 zip code (or 11249 to you johnny-cum-latelies), and if you think
“Molly” is about a girl, then this probably isn’t the record for you.
Meanwhile, “Daffodils” could score a <i>Miami
Vice</i> drug-dealing montage. “Ya Ya Ya” is a warped dance number that sounds
like Les Sexareenos got left out in the sun too long. “Psychedelic Warlords”
brings you down easy.<i> (Black Gladiator // <a href="http://slovenly.com/" target="_blank">slovenly.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Quailbones</b></span> <b>‘In Lord Dion’s House of Discovery’ 7”</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Good but ultimately forgettable <i>garage moderne</i>. Which means > a whole
lotta OhSees. Now, I like them OhSees, still do, if less attention is paid (and
payed). And I would put these cats near the top of Oh Sees tribute bands (that
Wooden Indian Burial Ground band does a striking imitation too). Well-played,
energetic, pretty deece recording, but all the hallmarks of <i>that band</i>’s style are here in droves,
spades, and other things that come together. The flipside’s “The Long Hair of
Death” does stick to the ribs a bit, but between its yodeling vocal hook and
even the title itself, it’s just Dwyer-damaged thru & thru. <i>(Ghost Orchard // <a href="http://ghostorchardrecords.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">ghostorchardrecords.blogspot.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sex Tide</span> ‘Flash Fuck’ 12” </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Things sure have been Sex-y as
of late; between yer vids and yer churches and yer cults and yer tapes and
8-traks and......it’s enough to make you say Sorry, not tonight honey, I’ve got
a headache. But here’s another Sex rolling in, and once again, we gotta say
Yes, let’s fuck, as if we were in a flash-flood of Biblical proportions.
UNFFF-NNNGGGGGG-UUUUHHHHHH----OH goddDDDD. Ain’t no atheists in the bedroom,
who said that? Here we have 8 songs of loud n’ crude bashing from Cowtown USA
(that’s Cbus to you). Sex kitten on obnox vox/standing Moe-drums, two dudes on
geetars (one ex-Geraldine, who did the best Gun Club cover I’ve still seen yet).
Plenty of Pussy refs for you
ref-heads, plenty of stanky punk for you panty-sniffers. Let's go deeper, baby,
and say "Jackknife w/o the speed." Final cut “Gone” is a slo-burner
that nicks the lead lick from “You Only Live Twice.” There ain’t no wheel
reinvention going on here, but plenty of groovy hate-fucking. How else can we
mention swampy genitals in fetid basements? Hey, what’s your name by the way,
wanna fuck? <i>(A Wicked Company // <a href="http://awickedcompanyrecords.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">awickedcompanyrecords.bandcamp.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Sperm Donor</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span> ‘Accidental
Incest’ LP</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The underground will always
have room for bespectacled geeks who carry around bucketfuls of pent-up rage,
and attempt to exorcise said rage via tight rock group dynamics, angular
riffing and non-melodic speak-singing. Call it the Albini factor. Sperm Donor
are the latest to don the wire-rims, and they acquit themselves……okay. Opener
“She Fucked Kevin Bacon” is def Rapeman outtake material, and the following
“Compulsive Fornicator” doesn’t do much to dispel the notion of Sperm Donor as,
well, a collective of compulsive masturbators. “So Long Motherfuckers” and
“Dolly Parton” bring the proceedings down to a typical ‘90s plod. I’ve heard
enough sludgefeasts like this to last a lifetime. It’s Melvins-lite, and it’s
no fun. Besides, isn’t Dolly Parton getting a bit saggy these days? I mean,
she’s like 100 years old (OK, yeah I would, fuck you, you would too). These
“heavy” rock tropes are goddamn saggy. Soggy, even, but still not heavy enough.
Side Two opens with “Song X,” which I wish sounded as close to Karp as Sperm
Donor probably thinks it does. Dammit, I wanted to like this more than I did,
and while it hits its markers well enough, in the end, that’s really the whole
problem.<i> (self-released // <a href="http://spermdonor.bandcamp.com/" target="_blank">spermdonor.bandcamp.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">Ultrathin</span> </b> <b>‘Minimum Payout E.P’ </b> <b>cass/download</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Melty Montreal negative space
punk more onna <i>Blade Runner </i>tip than
a blast into interstellar overdrive; fun stuff like Monoshock, Simply Saucer
and Chrome gets the bomb-shelter treatment. “Walk Into the Void” and the
relentless/obsessive “Downward Spiral” seethe with frustration and noisy
head-down effects-riddled riffage; not gazing at shoes, just trying to avoid
the average citizen’s zombie stares. Didn’t everyone hear yours truly when I
declared a moratorium on Urinals covers? It was on Twitter (j/k #notfunny).
Despite being slightly gauche, the live “Black Hole” here acquits itself well,
but we’re more keen to hear the ‘thin’s take on The Pagans’ “Real World,” which
they killed on stage. “A.K.A” is the two-minute punker that makes the Pagans
influence more than apparent, convincingly desperate and thoroughly rockin’. If
Ultrathin only wrote songs like this, they could open for The Spits in Halifax.
No surprise that the cut called “Cyborg Skin” is the Chrome-iest of the lot,
but, despite it being a bit long in the tooth, I’ll be damned if it don’t
scratch that itch better than anyone has in awhile. “Spaceman” gets loose and
far-out, all 3 Ultrathinners going for broke, like Loop huffing gasoline in the
garage. (<i>Bruised Tongue//<a href="http://bruisedtongue.com/" target="_blank">bruisedtongue.com</a>)</i></span></span></div>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-56772376212525442592014-02-11T12:38:00.003-08:002014-02-11T12:39:03.583-08:00LIGHTNING DEATH LITERATURE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://lightningdeathliterature.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Lightning Death Literature</a></span></div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-3322760148201303702014-02-11T12:36:00.001-08:002014-03-04T18:25:33.306-08:00CYANIDE TOOTH<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://cyanidetooth.tumblr.com/" target="_blank">Cyanide Tooth</a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="https://soundcloud.com/mindnomindrecords/cyanide-tooth-live-dba-2-27-14" target="_blank">CYANIDE TOOTH - Live @ Death By Audio</a></span></div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-83030737507650450372014-02-11T12:30:00.002-08:002014-02-11T13:57:28.258-08:00TWENNY THIRTINE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Let’s get real. The story of the year was not, belie it or
not, Ed Snowden (or Kanye West). It was Christopher motherfuckin’ Dorner.
Blambo: The Revenge. A real-time terror spree, an epic statewide manhunt, an
armed stand-off, a fiery demise. Brought to you in living (ahem) color by a
slew of three-lettered acronyms and one pissed-off ex-everything. A man with a
special set of skills. Twilight language. Ignore this at your own peril. Blambo
was out for blood. In my heart of hearts, he’s still running free, lining up
corrupt peace officers for execution. Every ‘80s actioner coming true all at
once, forever. Strange how his “narrative” seems to have been excised from all
major media, less than one year later. Why? It’s too fucking terrifying to
contemplate, that’s why. One of “our own” turned inside-out by abuse and self-hatred,
years of simmering rage, exploding in a cool, calm, and collected targeting of
former “comrades.” It doesn’t get much richer, thicker, more desperate and
dramatic. Did you forget? How about all those other shootings? Carried out by
civilians, no less. Sorry to bring you down. Can I see both of your hands? I’m
not sure I trust you. Don’t take it personally, it’s been a rough year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">If you didn’t give a slice of your (y)ear over to Cuntz, you
must either hate to laugh or not enjoy getting your head kicked in. I can
understand the latter, but I cannot forgive the former. If you ain’t a <b><i>Solid
Mate</i></b>, say <b><i>Aloha</i>,</b> baybee. Based upon the wake of their month-long US tour,
in the modern parlance, Cuntz “won” 2013. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">A case could be made that, in fact, Obnox won 2013, and that
case would be hard to argue. Against. I’m wondering when Bim will catch up on
jotting down all those names of all those asses Obnox kicked, live or on wax.
He probably needs at least a few more weeks, it was a long year. <b><i>Corrupt
Free Enterprise</i></b><i> </i>(12XU)<i> </i>is the heavyweight, but that <b><i>A
Ragin’ in the Sun</i></b><i> </i>7” (Anyway)
is pure ‘scale. A double set, a maxi 12”er, a 2x45 and two 7” EPs. Hell, let’s throw the Bassholes platter <b><i>Boogieman’s
Stew</i></b> (CDR) in there too. Game, set, match.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Have you heard Human Eye? Oh, finally! Thank you Goner
Records, with <b><i>4: Into Unknown</i></b>, the best band OUT THERE seemed to finally get
some real notice outside of our little bubble. Couldn’t happen to a better band.
No, really, it couldn’t; there isn’t one.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Destruction Unit put out two LPs
and a couple 7”s this year. It’s all good, but I sure hope you caught them on
their endless tour -- live is where their desert found its true voice, and it
is a loud and anguished moan. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Hey shithead, Australia’s Homeless
Records was the label of the year. Going from releasing one LP in 2012 (Bits of
Shit’s debut) to<b><i> </i>ten</b> this year, Homeless established itself as the go-to label
for dirty, grimy real world rock music. Featuring a nice split between crucial
archival releases (both Stabs LPs and bringing late 90s Tasmanian heroes The
Stickmen to wider attention) and vital new Oz bands like the aforementioned
Cuntz, the Teasers-meets-Killdozer grind of Sewers (<b><i>Hoisted</i></b><i>)</i> and the corroded psych-punk of
Gentlemen (<b><i>Sex Tape</i></b>). Homeless even found the time to squeeze out <b><i>K-85</i></b>,
a lovely album by Dan Melchior that is like Dan’s miniature <i>Another Green World</i>. And for the
finishing blow, Richie even snuck in first-time vinyl issues of Tasmanian local
legends The Stickmen; I’m partial to the livewire postpunk of the ’98 debut.
More meaty stuff is on deck for the coming twelve months. It’s a good time to
be Homeless (??).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">While I have nothing but respect
for the Drag City label (I grew up indie-damaged in the early/mid 90s after all),
not much they have released in recent years has pricked up my ears. That
changed with the welcome Venom P. Stinger reissue campaign they embarked upon
this year. Nothing fancy (tho a lil’ pricey), straightforward re-ups of classic
stabs of anti-you Antipodean rockjazz. First, buy 1986’s scabrous, borderline
psychotic<i> <b>Meet My Friend Venom</b></i><b>, </b>then<b> </b>pick-up 1990’s <b><i>What’s Yours Is Mine</i></b>, which
is one of the more effectively portrayed descents into personal hell on a
(ostensibly) rock n’ roll album. It sucks Lou died, and <i>Berlin</i> is a bummer, but this album will keep you comfort in your
loneliness like a plague blanket and bottle of cheap red. The merely-good <b><i>Waiting
Room</i></b> EP is optional IMHO, but the “Walking About” 7” is about as
essential as they come. Total tornado, your life is not your own.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Floor Above’s <b><i>Bishop</i></b>
(Savage Quality) turned the whole “one-man band” equation on its head. No Hasil
Adkins disciple, this fella continues to grind steel wool against the open
wounds of society. <b><i>Bishop</i></b> sounds like one dude’s refusal to consent – a giant FUCK
EVERYTHING communicated through caustic, blazing-fast punk with thrilling noise
guitar taking place of done-to-death hardcore chord “progressions.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b><i>Hardcore Devo </i></b>– what else
can be said? You’re all devo, volumes one and two. A doff of the clear plastic
mask to our friends over at Superior Viaduct. Holy shit, what a year they had.
There was no way in hell I could keep up. But I will tell ya that the
remastered version of MX-80 Sound’s <b><i>Hard Attack</i></b> is fucking unstoppable;
make no mistake, MX-80 is a force, and this is their finest LP. Anyone who
tells you otherwise, while surely well-meaning, is still a liar and a fool.
I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it even after I’m dead: If you don’t own
the Negative Trend EP in some form (no, digital files don’t count), then you
are not, and never will be, punk. Is that annoying to read? Imagine how
annoying it is to hear people blubber and blabber about punk, and they know
naught of this record. Now you <i>really</i>
have no excuse. SV gone and done made it easily available; I hear squares are
even allowed to buy it (making them instantly cool, whatta deal!). Couple these
significant victories with essential reissues that range from 100 Flowers,
Martin Rev and Tuxedomoon to Heldon, Glaxo Babies and a cornucopia of obscure
prog and lost soundtracks. One of my favorite things to listen to this year was
Craig Leon’s <b><i>Nommos</i></b>, an intergalactic transmission from alien astronauts,
recombo’d by futuristic Mayan priests floating on a cloud-like bed of glowing crystals
thousands of years forward in the future-past. There’s an interesting
behind-the-scenes conflict regarding this reissue too, but I’ll let our Goggle
overlords direct you in the case you wanna know more. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Siltbreeze’s Scorched Earth Policy & Victor Dimisich
Band collection LPs + Captured Tracks/Flying Nun reish campaign (Toy Love!
Snapper! Clean! Verlaines! more!) + 540 Records’ Peter Gutteridge <b><i>Pure</i>
</b>vinylization x Peter Jefferies’ <b><i>Last Great Challenge in a Dull World</i></b>
(De Stijl) = NZ DUZ IT. Evverytime.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One more thing from Down There: The Division Four <b><i>1983
Demo Cassette</i></b> 12” (Smart Guy) was one of my favorite releases of the
year, new or old. An absolute must for any self-respecting post-punk
enthusiast. </span></div>
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<h1 style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">S-S Records had a bit of an under-the-radar yet stellar schedule: the
open up n’ bleed Slavic punk of Satan Panonski collection </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Hard Blood Shock</i><span style="font-weight: normal;">, Banque Allemande’s Gordons-gone-Velvets
(or is it the other way ‘round?) </span><i>Willst Du
Chinese Sein Musst Du Die Ekligen Sachen Essen</i><span style="font-weight: normal;">, a coupla quality Spray Paint albums, and other stuff like neg-vibe “merchants”
Life Stinks and decades-old Italian HC demos. Bravo.</span></span></span></h1>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Toronto’s Teenanger continue to
make very cool punk rock music. <b><i>Singles Don’t Sell</i></b><i> </i>(Telephone Explosion) is another
winner, 12 infectious cuts with a few new wrinkles. Consistently excellent
band.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">Liquor Store went big-time on <b><i>In
The Garden</i></b> (Almost Ready), and they have the songs, balls, charm,
guitars, and guitars to back it up. “I’m just a pile of dirt” is one of the
year’s more succinct and right-on statements. Write on, ride on.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">There was some really great stuff
this year that I only heard via demos or bandcamp, or demos on bandcamp. Like
Taiwan Housing Project (Kilynn from Little Claw + Mark Feehan from Harry
Pussy), or School Girl Report’s <b><i>Success is Dating</i></b> or just new bands
with hard-to-find albums (<b><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-weight: normal;">Quttinirpaaq
are cool)</span></b>. Blogs like Terminal Escape and the Urbankill tumblr
are rife with all kinds of cool international sounds discovered via either
dusty tape or easily-clickable streaming pages. Even if the tech is new, the
game is the same: the constant hunt for that next band that locks you in,
dredges up more than just “Oh cool, it sounds like X crossed with Q.” One band
I listened to this a lot this year (courtesy of TE) does both of those things (ie.
fulfill both trainspottery and engage my actual remaining emotions). A demo
called <b><i>Yeah I Know </i></b>by a trio from Atlanta called Dasher<b><i> </i></b>got
stuck in my craw almost instantly. In a current climate of ‘90s revivalism,
Dasher gets “it” right, while also sounding vital and contemporary. Singer/drummer
Kylee has a rasping voice that I initially mistook for a person of the male
persuasion. She has a knack for welding intense, almost Jap HC vocals to big,
thick anthems of strangled noise rock. MBV, Sonic Youth and Archers of Loaf
steeped in a lifetime of Southern crust. Spring brings us a 7” on Die Slaughterhaus.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Other musics
[good to great/new and new again]: Pampers <b><i>s/t</i></b> (In The Red), Counter Intuits <b><i>s/t</i></b>
(Pyramid Scheme), TV Ghost <b><i>Disconnect</i></b> (In The Red), The Haxan
Cloak <b><i>Excavation</i></b> (Tri Angle), The 39 Clocks <b><i>Pain It Dark </i></b>(Luxury
Products), Circuit Des Yeux <b><i>Overdue</i></b> (self-released), Joel RL
Phelps <b><i>Gala</i></b> (12XU), Pop. 1280 <b><i>Imps of Perversion </i></b>(Sacred Bones), Giant
Henry <b><i>Big Baby</i></b> (Numero Group), Murderedman <b><i>Love in Danger</i></b> (Soundesign),
Sightings <b><i>Terribly Well</i></b> (Dais), Pussy Galore <b><i>Groovy Hate Fuck </i></b>(Shove),
The Invisible Hands <b>s/t </b>(Abduction), Run The Jewels <b>s/t </b>(Fool's Gold), Afflicted Man <b><i>I’m Off Me ‘Ead </i></b>(Permanent), Bone <b><i>For Want of Feeling</i></b> (Tenzenmen),
15-60-75<b><i> </i></b>(aka The Numbers Band) <b><i>Jimmy Bell’s Still In Town </i></b>(Exit
Stencil), True Sons of Thunder <b><i>Stop and Smell Your Face </i></b>(Little Big
Chief), Tar <b><i>1988 – 1995 </i></b>(Chunklet), Moonrises <b><i>Frozen Altars</i></b> (Captcha), Androids
of Mu <b><i>Blood Robots</i></b> (Water Wing), Dan Friel
<b><i>Total
Folklore</i></b> (Thrill Jockey), Cut Hands <b><i>Damballah 58 </i></b>(Blackest
Ever Black), Orchid Spangiafora <b><i>Flee’s Past’s Ape Self </i></b>(Feeding Tube), Bona Dish <b><i>The
Zaragoza Tapes 1981-1982</i></b> + Earth Dies Burning <b><i>Songs From the Valley of the
Bored Teenager (1981-1984)</i></b> (Captured Tracks), Shocked Minds <b>s/t</b> (Hozac), The Zingers <b><i>s/t </i></b>(Million
Dollar), The Love Triangle <b><i>Clever Clever</i></b> (Static Shock/Sorry
State), Matmos <b><i>The Marriage of True Minds </i></b>(Thrill Jockey), Tiger Hatchery <b><i>Sun
Worship</i></b> (ESP-Disk), PYPY <b><i>Pagan Day </i></b>(Black Gladiator), Dirty
Beaches <b><i>Drifters/Love is The Devil </i></b>(Zoo), The Feeling of Love <b><i>Reward
Your Grace </i></b>(Born Bad), Rodion G.A. <b><i>The Lost Tapes </i></b>(Strut), AANIPAA <b><i>Through
a Pre-Memory</i></b> (Editions Mego), Fuzz <b><i>s/t</i></b> (In The Red), Bad Noids <b><i>Everything
From Soup to Desert </i></b>(Katorga Works), Rodan <b><i>Fifteen Quiet Years</i></b> (Quarterstick/Touch
& Go), Thee Oh Sees <b><i>Floating Coffin</i></b> + <b><i>Moon
Sick</i></b> EP (Castle Face), Joint D <b><i>Satan is Real Again, Again</i></b>… (Sorry
State), The Gotobeds 7” (Mind Cure), Cellos 3-song 7” (Doormat), La Luz 45
(Water Wing), Livids various singles, Cosmic Psychos reissues on Goner (and
live, it’d been awhile).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: small;">[originally published on Terminal Boredom, minus the last bit]</span></div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-18744011705227503482013-11-28T15:51:00.000-08:002014-02-11T14:19:07.520-08:00NU VIEWS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Afflicted Man <i>I’m Off Me ‘ead</i> LP</b> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The strange and twisted history of Steve Hall aka The
Afflicted Man is best recounted elsewhere (not least of which in the liners to
this reissue), but suffice to say it includes hippies, punks, skinheads,
anarchists, glue-huffers, speed-freaks, junkies and, never one to be excluded,
God his damn self. Oh, and techno. I wouldn’t say this is Hall’s best album --
general consensus is the glorious din of <i>Get
Stoned Ezy </i>(billed under High Speed & The Afflicted Man) is his apex –
but it’s still an essential piece of the jigsaw. “Survival in the 80s” is a
prime chunk of drunk stumble, lurching between the seemingly disparate poles of
thug and psych rock. Hall seems to be trying to channel earlier gen freaks like
Pink Fairies, and the sheer wrongheadedness (offme’eadedness?) of how his
attempt comes out coats the proceedings in a sheen of enthusiastic, intoxicated
amateurism, triumphantly emerging as unique DIY psychedelic post-punk rock n’
roll. In my mind’s eye, I see burly bikers with death’s head tattoos and fey
cardigan-clad Homosexuals enthusiasts in a circle, hands clasped tightly, all
enjoying these gone sounds together. Maybe I’m just a hopeless utopian, but,
brothers and sisters, can’t we all just pass this communal glue-bag, take a
huff, turn off our minds, float downstream, etc….? </span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>(Permanent // permanentrecords.com)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Androids of Mu <i>Blood
Robots</i> LP</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sometimes I wished I lived in
an alternate universe where the majority of rock n’ roll bands were comprised
of mostly female members -- that the almighty cock did not hold sway, and in
fact, the feisty V was where the power sat. I could get down with this
Amazonian utopia if the popular bands of the day were lady-powered dynamos like
the Raincoats, Kleenex, Girls at Our Best, Dishrags, The Nixe, Wrecks, Nog
Watt, Bound & Gagged, Neo Boys etc. Count the fantastic foursome of the
UK’s Androids of Mu in that stellar lineage. Originally released in 1980 on the
seminal Fuck Off Records, Water Wing does a splendid job providing a faithful
reissue of this overlooked classic. Supposedly, Crass offered to do an album
but requested a drummer change. The women of Mu promptly said “Fuck off,” and
went and Fucked Off. Emerging out of the intoxicating smoke of the Gong off-shoot
Here & Now, Androids of Mu wedded ecstatic freedom with sharp post-punk
grooves. According to the accompanying dossier, the guitarist had a “previous
deployment” with Inner City Unit featuring Hawkwind’s Nik Turner. Co-producer
and Fuck Off Records founder (and main shaker in the great World Domination Enterprises),
Keith Dobson provides liner notes and direction to this first-time reissue. The
intertwining strands of British freak-rock and outer-limits post-punk weave a
nice tapestry for the trainspotting record-geek. But these ladies were not
fucking around for your benefit. They were forging their own path through the
’77-as-year-zero forest. “Atomic X” opens the album like a ska-influenced
answer to Ubu’s “30 Seconds…” with bombs exploding on the horizon for the
song’s duration. The Androids utilize that dub/ska rhythm quite a bit, which is
a deal-breaker for some, but they leaven it with spikey guitars, whooshing bits
of synth-noise, and alternately pleading or too-cool vocals. “She is A Boy”
fucks with your gender biases something fierce as a woman observes a drag queen
in action and it “makes me feel strange/when I’m in her range/hope she don’t
hate me/I don’t hate her.” This is followed by the smirking “Pretty Nun,” which
wonders “How do you really give up the good times/sacrifice your pretty youth?”
Hey, who doesn’t love a hot nun? “Bored Housewives” is a legit classic, mixtape
material when The Slits get to be old hat, providing a similar rejection of
society’s incessant need to compartmentalize half the population. Most telling
is the line “Sunday afternoon I take the kids to the park/never have a chance
to meet a stranger after dark.” Ironically, this seems like a great song to
sing along to as you do the dishes. “Lost in Space” is the track the singers
from Sun Ra’s band never made, Joe Meek transmissions darting around the
mix like a malfunctioning satellite. <i>Blood Robots</i> isn’t
necessarily the album to break you into the wonderful world of femme post-punk,
but if you’ve already got a taste, then this record is mandatory. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>(Water Wing // waterwingrecords.com)</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>German Shepherds <i>Music for Sick Queers</i> LP + 7”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Complete fucking freaks. I’m not sure how I was made aware
of this album, but way back in Y2K I found myself with access to a college
radio station’s music library and I proceeded to go as apeshit as possible within
a few hours each week burning obscure LPs onto CDRs. <i>Music For Sick Queers </i>was one of the first, and one of the
freakiest. This record will never not sound like the product of disturbed minds;
no surprise that surviving original member Mark Hutchinson hails from Northeast
Ohio. Once again, Superior Viaduct gives up the goods, cementing their rep as
the finest retro outsider-punk label in Christendom. If the menacing drawings
that serve as German Shepherds artwork don’t clue you in as to the damaged
nature of this SF duo, one listen to “Communist Control” will set you straight.
This is music that considers Throbbing Gristle’s “Hamburger Lady” a love song. All
of the classic subjects are touched upon: apocalypse, Hitler, Commies,
Satanists, drugs, pedophilia. This last one is a touchy (ouch) subject for the Sheps.
There were rumors for years that the now-deceased half of German Shepherds, Stephen
Scheatzle, had been accused of some sort of child abuse and then committed
suicide. It appears that this was merely a media stunt (and perhaps an
inspiration for The Dwarves and He Who Cannot Be Named?), but I wouldn’t put
anything past these damaged cretins. The kid-stalking anthem “Booty Jones”
practically implicates you in an unspeakable crime, tossed off so nonchalantly
that the creep factor rises as the song progresses. “I Adore You” is more
throbbing fluorescent light-buzzing and insistent rhythm, like the gait of a
persistent stalker, clinging to the shadows, patiently. “Mr. Tupper” is an
audio collage, not unlike Orchid Spangiafora, cutting-up radio adverts and
snatches of conversation. “THC,” the Devil’s weed, brings the Satanic goods, as
only the mid-80s could, a peak time for ol’ Beelzebub and his countless minions.
I wonder what Bob Larsen would’ve made of this cacophonous invocation of
psychedelic music, heavy drug use and patricide. Satan is boring? Nah, not
always. Christ almighty, I wanna shove this record into every noise-dork’s
earholes. Don’t worry, children, I brought lube. </span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>(Superior Viaduct // </i><a href="http://www.superiorviaduct.com/"><i>www.superiorviaduct.com</i></a><i>)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Giant Henry </b></span><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Big Baby</i> LP</span><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span> </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When I was in high school, my
two favorite currently-existing bands were Unwound and Gaunt. To the astute ‘90s
punkologist, much about my younger self could be inferred from such knowledge.
Gaunt was local(ish), kicked major ass, were snarky as fuck, but wore their
heart on their sleeve, like every great Midwestern band should. <i>I Can See Your Mom From Here </i>was a
crucial album in my life, and remains a go-to staple. On the other side of the
river stood Unwound. A power trio from the rain-soaked PNW, Unwound sometimes
seemed like Nirvana’s younger siblings. And they kind of were. Per the liner
notes from their classic debut <i>Fake Train</i>:
“thankyounirvanaforthebuyingusbeerthankyounirvanaforlettinguspracticehere.” But, in many ways, Unwound was the
superior band. They were far more punk and underground, and their music evolved
by leaps and bounds over the years. While they certainly never had the innate
ear for melody like Cobain & co. did, they still managed to write dozens of
memorable songs over their decade-plus existence. While sonically closer to
Mission of Burma, Unwound’s howls of rage and sorrow had more in common with
the emotional terrain of Husker Du’s <i>Zen
Arcade</i>. Unwound’s songs were dust-storms of existential fury that channeled
teen angst like few bands ever have (see <i>Fake
Train</i>’s opener “Dragnalus”). And now that the Nineties are “back” (whomever
said that pop culture moves in twenty-year cycles should get a MacArthur genius
grant), Unwound has come around again, with new reissues on Numero Group,
including a deluxe representation of the hard-to-find true first-album
(posthumously committed to wax by Honey Bear in 1995). And that takes us almost
back to where this record sits in the continuum. Before Justin Trosper, Vern
Rumsey and Brandt Sandeno got Unwound-proper going, they had their high school
band, Giant Henry. One Giant Henry song, “Crab Nebula,” managed to find its way
into the early Unwound set, but all of the songs contained on this record are previously
unheard. Recorded in their hometown of Tumwater WA in 1991, this is what teen
spirit truly smelled like. “Super Nova” blasts off with a thick sound,
unexpected noisy breaks and Trosper’s Cobain-esque yowl. On the insert, Rumsey
is wearing a Nirvana t-shirt and the influence is transparent -- “Listenator”
sounds like a <i>Bleach</i> outtake -- but
Giant Henry manage to sculpt it into something that can stand on its own. And,
much like Nirvana, these kids “loved the Melvins to death.” This kind of noisy
off-time sludge seems to come natural to our friends up in the Loggerlands. As
the trio morphed into Unwound and became more serious, the music grew even
noisier and more unhinged. <i>Big Baby</i> is
for completists-only, of course, but I can’t imagine any such person would be
disappointed with this unexpected early glimpse into one of the ‘90s crucial bands.
1000 copies; silkscreened jackets w/ silkscreened inserts. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>(The Numero Group // numerogroup.com)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Murderedman <i>Love in Danger</i> LP</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Clevo noise rock vets do some of their best work yet.
“Sleight of Hand” is a concise and electrifying burst of power that could have
come straight off of Six Finger Satellite’s <i>Paranormalized</i>,
secret melodic bass line included. “House of Eyes” is full of Bauhaus-ian
drama; spiraling guitar and bass lines wrap around singer David Russell’s
throat, threatening to choke the life out of him, and us. “My Catastrophe” is a
relentless slice of avant-hardcore, buried blastbeats competing with fragmented
electronics. “Toil & Toll” is Murderedman’s nu metal cut, featuring
Russell’s most effective vocal performance overtop a hammering groove and sheets
of skree. This is a brutal record, modest in its ambitions, but ambitious
nonetheless. As good as they are here (and live), I feel Murderedman’s finest
material has yet to come. But for now, this record will satisfy those who miss
the likes of Drunkdriver and White Suns, not to mention Slug and Glazed Baby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>(A Soundesign
Recording // polarenvy.com)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Poor Lily <i>Vuxola</i> CD </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I wanted to like this;
really, I did. I’m a sucker for things in this nebulous genre – post-hardcore
pseudo-artpunk whatchamacallit, obviously inspired by the Minutemen and most
specifically recalling the mighty Nomeansno. Poor Lily are old hardcore dudes
based in the Bronx who still feel the fire and wanna jam out their
socio-political issues via tight power trio dynamics. And they almost succeed.
But then there’s the singer’s nasally voice which falls on the wrong end of the
Biafra Annoyance Spectrum. And when the other guy occasionally chimes in,
you’re wondering how the CD player suddenly switched to a Biohazard album (and
I only have a single-disc player). Despite some promising song titles (“The
Days are Not Piano Keys,” “Justice Kennedy Has a Cold,” “The Drunken
Mapmaker”), not one of these 19 songs stands out. To their credit, Poor Lily
only waste a half hour of your time, but then again, that time would have been
better spent listening to <i>Sex Mad</i>. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>(self-released // poorlily.com)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Sonic Youth <i>Smart Bar Chicago 1985</i> 2xLP</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Nineteen
eighty-five was a peak year for da Yooth, what with arguably one of their
finest albums, <i>Bad Moon Rising</i>,
coming out on Homestead, and them beginning to tour the entire country, often
with Swans and at least once in the Mojave Desert with the Meat Puppets and Redd
Kross (and *cough* Psi-Com). This gig from Chicago is a helluva live document
and might remind you why Sonic Youth, at their best, divorced from all the
recent drama, really are a unique and powerful band unlike any other. The set
is basically all of <i>Bad Moon Rising</i>
with a few things off the impending <i>EVOL</i>.
The recording is excellent, utilizing both board and room mics to give a real
presence to the room, while still being able to hear what each instrument is
doing. You know the guitars are going to be gnarly and otherworldly, but what
really comes through is how pulverizing the rhythm section is. Steve Shelley
had just joined the band following Bob Bert’s departure, and his time in Wisconsin’s
Crucifucks had prepared him well for Sonic Youth’s intense sets. He’s a more
straightforward drummer than Bert, and live it comes together as he keeps the
band from floating away or jamming too long. They start things off with “Halloween”s
slow grind, then get “Death Valley ‘69” out of the way. It thrashes pretty
hard, but it’s “Intro” into “Brave Men Run” that really kicks the set up an
extra level. Shelley and Gordon drive the song forward as Moore and Ranaldo
make Swell Maps chimes on their guitars. The dark, tribal threat of “I Love Her
All The Time” is so focused it feels like an incantation. “Ghost Bitch” sets
hackles on edge with arcs of achingly abrasive feedback, eventually erupting in
what sounds like a voodoo dance in pitch-black darkness. Older gems like “The
Burning Spear” and “Making the Nature Scene” get feverish readings. This is
before Sonic Youth felt compelled to weld their <b><i>outre’</i> </b>tendencies to
traditional rock songcraft. At this point in their career, Sonic Youth sounded
like no one else, aided by their heavy use of tape loops
during this period. They had shed all of their No Wave forebears’ trappings and
established a singularly menacing style of rock noise. <i>Smart Bar </i>has some of the heaviest SY action I’ve heard on wax,
we’re talking some real head-banging noise rock, so come get ducky, dodos. </span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>(Goofin’ //
sonicyouth.com)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b>The Thing From the Crypt </b></i><b>LP </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Seminal comp of an isolated sub-scene gets the treatment by coldwave
impresarios Dark Entries. There’s a gothic sensibility to much of this music,
but it’s not heavy-handed, and often, tongue-in-cheek. Released in 1981 and containing
two songs by each band, this comp’s quality is, for the most part, excellent. Exhibit
‘A’s “Rain” sounds like a New Zealander’s take on darkwave, ditching the menace
for an extra dose of melancholy. “Take Me Inside” by Sad Lovers & Giants
comes off as a more accessible, new wave Screamers, while Flying Beechcraft’s
sly “Bugger Off” is a minor classic. Of course, half the reason to own this LP
is for the two songs by the supremely satisfying Soft Drinks, a synth-vocal-drum
combo that approach their arch songs with a thuggish glee. Imagine early
Passage in a caveman karaoke and you’re getting close. “Squash” does just that,
but “Pepsi Cola” is the choice of a new generation (of miscreants). A muscular
drumbeat pounds away as synths act like a quickening pulse, while the singer
yammers on about drinking a soda, literally, everywhere. Flying Beechcraft come
up with another winner in “Frog Girl,” almost like an angles-rounded-off
Embarrassment, or perhaps a slightly less pretentious Verlaines. I really dig
how most of the bands walk this strange line between synth-punk-pop-new wave-goth.
But trust me, there’s more than enough guitar here, this is still rock music,
generally speaking. Joy Division looms large, but taken in creative directions.
S-Haters provide good, noisy mope but Sad Lovers & Giants “Clint” could
easily get an ‘80s nite dance floor moving. On the other hand, Mex’s
“Functioning Fripp Girls” has more in common with Danny & The Dressmakers,
and the album closes out with Gambit of Shame’s nearly trad garage-rockin’ “She
Lawn.” If anyone would like to send me a copy of Soft Drinks’ lone 45,
“Popstars In Their Pyjamas,” well, shucks, that’d be just swell. </span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>(Dark Entries //
darkentriesrecords.com)</i></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">[most reviews originally appeared on Terminal Boredom]</span><i> </i></span></div>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-65597597256908237592013-09-09T12:41:00.000-07:002015-01-28T15:04:06.446-08:00RUSTY HINGE<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He should never have
walked through those doors. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He knew better.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Knew better than to
let the rusty smell of whiskey tempt him. It’d been one year four months and
who gives a fuck how many days. Rules are meant to be broken, eh?</span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The look that slip of
a girl had shot his way (or had he imagined it?) at the rest stop was enough to
set him off. Weak. He hadn’t sold shit in days anyhow. Fuck it. The gaping maw
of drunk awaited him; jaw slack, tongue throbbing, nose twitching.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Whiskey, two ice
cubes.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He leveled the last
of these words at the bartender like a threat. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry Lynch, you
sad-sack shit of a man. Drink your fill, vomit your guts, keep on laughing. No
one hears, except for the grave, which sports the biggest smile of all – a
broad grin that could swallow the whole world. </span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A woman walked in,
like an echo of the rest-stop girl. Except quite a bit older, perhaps even
older than him. She sauntered in like she owned the damn place, like she owned
every damn place. Shut up, you idiot, he chided himself, you have no business
even being here. The woman walked around the right-angled bar, exaggerating her
movements almost theatrically. Who’s she trying to impress, Larry thought, it’s
just me, the bartender and that schlub in the corner. The sun was still beating
the blacktop and unless you were some kinda do-nothing hippie, it sure as hell
wasn’t party time yet. But this woman -- with her finely-coiffed medium-length
blonde ‘do, and her hip-hugging high-waisted white slacks, which revealed a
sculpted torso culminating in generous breasts -- was acting like she was
Lauren fuckin’ Bacall, and where’s my Bogart? her pursed lips seemed to be on
the verge of asking, hell, more like demanding. Well, I’m taller than that dead
fuck, toots, is what Larry wanted to not so much as say, but throw at her --
right at her pretty little head. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry made a vague
motion towards one of the beer taps and the bored-looking bartender, so used to
this scene as to be hopelessly mundane, poured the cheap suds and shuffled over
to where Larry half-sat at the bar, one leg up and one leg firmly on the
ground, as if he was ready to sprint out of there at a moment’s notice. Mr.
Bartender delicately dropped the pint glass right next to Larry’s now-empty
whiskey. All it took was Larry making eye contact for the bartender to
blindly reach behind him, snag the whiskey bottle, and swing it around in an
arc, coming to rest directly above Larry’s rocks glass. The bartender looked
Larry directly in the eyes as he turned the bottle upside down and expertly
poured the brown liquid. Just as Larry was about to demand two
more ice, the bartender’s other hand seemed to appear out of nowhere with
a small, stainless steel scoop sporting two square cubes. He slid the cubes
into the glass without so much as a fleck of whiskey escaping over the lip of
the glass. Larry picked up the glass, took a long sip of the rich, smoky
poison, quickly followed by a desperate guzzle of the beer, draining half in
one swallow.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A full bladder equals
an occupied mind, as his father used to say. He lifted himself off the stool,
wobbling slightly, legs still weak from the ass-numbing ride of the past few
hours. He practically stumbled away from the bar and the bartender shot him a
warning look. After all, it was only quarter after three in the afternoon, he
wasn’t quite lubed up enough to deal with some shit-heel drunk who came
floating in on a cloud of fumes. But Larry quickly righted himself and made his
way to the restroom in the back, snaking his way through a cluttered maze of
mismatched tables and chairs.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In the bathroom, Larry kept inching into the urinal, the tip of his dick
touching cold linoleum at a steady rhythm; the only steady thing about Larry as
his pants slipped down his weak-kneed chicken legs and his worn-out buster
browns slipped on the dirt-tiled floor, his soles squeaking in his own piss.</span></span></div>
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</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It took him a few
minutes to recover any sense of his surroundings. Oh yeah, here I am again,
trapped myself in a bar. Bet the sun is still out there pounding the concrete.
Fucker is merciless. Might as well stay in here and beat the heat, Larry
thought. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What’s the harm,
hell it’s good for my skin,” Larry said out loud, to no one. Then he realized
he was talking to his own reflection. At first, he hadn’t even recognized the
unkempt vagabond staring back at him. It had been days since he’d shaved; and
last time he shaved he had to use one side of a pair of old scissors, digging
at the stubble in his chin as if he were foraging for root vegetables, or
digging mines out of an old warzone. It hadn’t gone well, especially as
hungover as Larry had been, as Larry <i>was</i>,
in that moment. Both moments. Every moment. At this thought, he felt the vertigo hit him
again and he swayed in place, like an inflatable wind dancer. Those inhuman
advertisements that reminded us all how small and earthbound we truly are.
Larry felt inhuman. Just then the portly schlub came barreling into the cramped
bathroom, shocking Larry out of his fog and nudging him towards the sink. Larry
reached out, suddenly desperate, and managed to secure the lip of the sink in
his clutching hands. He steadied himself as the man pulled up at the lone
urinal like a horse to water.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sorry, chief, gotta
drain this weasel something fierce, boy I tell you!”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Back at the bar,
Larry’s head swiveled around like a broken-necked doll, unsteady on his
badly-shaven throat. He felt like a forgotten toy at the bottom of a child’s
closet. For how long would he remain neglected? Perhaps not as long as he
thought, as the bartender decided to take pity and poured him a double, this
time catching his eyes with a slightly sympathetic look. We’ve all been there,
he seemed to say. Larry raised his glass in salute and the man said, “No
problem, bud, this one’s on me.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry asked for
another beer on top of his full rocks glass (he somehow forgot to ask for ice
and the man had not offered). As the delicious warmth began to spread over his
body – is this what heroin addicts feel like? Larry thought – he managed to
take a little more control over his upper spine and found himself gazing
fixedly at the lone woman. She was sitting catty-corner from him and she
matched his stare, her face betraying no emotion whatsoever. Not so much as
dismissive, but impassive. Stone-faced. Larry imagined her elegant features
supplanting one of those fuckers at Mount Rushmore, might even class that
craggy rock up a bit. She was certainly making this shitty bar more inviting by
the minute.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I like the way you
look at me,” she said. “Like a problem you are trying to parse.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A dim recollection of
grade school pushed its way to the front of Larry’s brain. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Don’t you ‘parse’
sentences?” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh I am a sentence,
baby. Some would say ‘life,’ some would say ‘death.’ I say let the chips fall
where they may.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Easy to say, hard to
follow through.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh sugar, don’t make
it too easy for me now, would you? It’s still early yet.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry waved this
comment away with a floppy hand, accidentally rapping his knuckles hard on the
bar counter. Somewhere, nerves screamed in pain, but they failed to penetrate
the spreading warmth.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Leave that poor, old
bar alone,” the woman mock-scolded him. “What’s it ever done to you?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Plenty. More than
plenty. It’s done it all, and then some, and then one more time for good
measure.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yet here you are,
sucked back in.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Goddamn black hole.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“We’ve all got holes,
honey, just depends on if you want to turn the light on or not,” she smiled.
And all Larry could think was, There, that smile, that’s my light. Turn me on,
baby. Hit that switch.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Instead, Larry
grunted a response, in an attempt to show that he was above it all.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The woman wasn’t
fooled. “Come on, stranger, come closer. Let’s co…..mmiserate.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry let the comment
float in the air for an extra beat. Then, feigning reluctance, he gradually
lifted his sore ass off his stool and slow-walked down the bar, trying his best
to appear as nonchalant as possible. But secretly, desperately, his heart was
taking a drum solo and he felt something like electricity shooting through his
veins. Aha, now <i>this</i> is what junkies
feel. </span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry led with his whiskey, placing the rocks glass close to her cocktail, and
parking himself next to her. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You got a name,
sugar?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Larry.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s a strong
name, Larry. Larry of Arabia,” she giggled to herself. “Desert warrior. I’m
Annabelle, pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. Are you coming in from a
long journey through sandstorms and the like?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Something like that.
I sell, I travel. It feels like war sometimes.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And what do you
sell, Sir Larry?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Vacuum cleaners,
cleaning products, peace of mind.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Do they still do
that? I had no idea.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I still do it. It’s
all I know. My brother got me into it fresh outta high school, and I guess I’m
just too dumb or too stubborn to figure out how to do anything else.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I think it’s
charming.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Feh, don’t bullshit
me, Annabelle. It’s the pits and you should be laughing at me. God knows I do.
Sometimes I turn off the AM and just laugh myself silly.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh Larry, that’s
sad. Please don’t do that.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Looks like your
drink’s empty. What’s your poison?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Today, I’m feeling
tropical. I can almost smell that Caribbean air, the salt and the sand and the
sun.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Going on a trip?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Perhaps.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Hey buddy,” Larry
jerked his chin at the bartender. “Can the lady get a pina colada?</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The bartender rolled
his eyes and began to prepare the cocktail. The entire time, he shook his head
imperceptibly, not knowing whether to laugh or be annoyed at this putz.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry was oblivious,
trying to appear in charge, in control – to not let on that his head was
swimming and his thoughts were growing more primitive by the second. He took a
sip of whiskey, figuring that would level him out.</span></span>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Annabelle smacked at
her lips, the sound drawing Larry’s eyes to her mouth, and in that instant, he
felt like he could disappear into her mouth, that between those lips and those
pretty white teeth, he could dwell forever, safe from harm, content in that
moist cave. It had been too long since Larry had been with a woman, and this
broad was a step-up from the usual floozies he took to second-run movies and
then dingy bars to patiently wait for them to get drunk enough to fuck him.
Now, he was the drunk one, and it felt good, and she was going to be his, he
could just feel it.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The bartender frisbee’d
a cocktail napkin onto the bar-top and placed the garish drink in front of
Annabelle. A miniature umbrella poked out of the comically large glass. Larry
raised his own drink, “Here’s to you, toots.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Annabelle clinked his
glass and took a long sip from the double-strawed cocktail.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Thanks, hon. I’ve
got to visit the little girls’ room and make a quick phone call. I’ll be back
in two shakes, don’t you go anywhere,” she winked at him.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry just nodded
dumbly. He watched her as she navigated the furniture maze with grace, plump
derriere moving in slow motion. As she closed the bathroom door behind her, he
turned his head and noticed the corner schlub licking his lips and giving him a
curious look. Then the schlub raised his glass as a sort of salute, or perhaps
it was a congratulations. Truth be told, Larry was just as surprised as he was.
But the whiskey provided bravado, so he gave the guy a pitying look and
half-raised his glass in acknowledgment. Sucker, he thought as he turned back
around.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As the minutes ticked
by, Larry seemed to be frozen in time. He felt like a relic from another age. A
traveling salesman. A drunk. A failure. Goddamn, was he sick of all this
self-pity. He just needed one good night. One night to feel the caress of a
woman, to feel alive again. He deserved that much, didn’t he? Look at all these
bastards running the world, starting wars in unpronounceable countries,
shitting on the common man. They should be strung up and beaten to death. Give
‘em the ol’ Mussolini headkick. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry glanced over to
the dimly lit hallway in the back, which housed the cigarette machine and some
novelty toy-grabbing doohickey. He saw Annabelle on the payphone, laughing at
someone’s words, sure as hell not his. He felt a pang of jealousy, but eased it
with a long pull on his whiskey. While she yammered on, probably with some girlfriend
or perhaps a family member, Larry ordered another beer. It had been awhile
since Larry had drank, but he hadn’t forgotten that he preferred to have a chaser
for the brown stuff. Double-fist. A real man.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Annabelle sashayed
back to her stool and seemed even perkier than before. She wriggled her perfectly-round
ass on the stool, finding her comfort zone. She looked as at home as a lioness
on the plains of Africa. There was something slightly exotic about her; not the
way she looked necessarily -- although she was a fine specimen no doubt – but
in the way her eyes played over Larry’s face, seeming to read all the hurt and
bullshit he had been through. If she could see it, maybe she could heal it. Or
at least soothe it. This wild beast needs soothing, Larry thought. Before I go
extinct.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Now, where were we?”
Annabelle said, tracing the outline of her glass with her forefinger. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry snapped himself
out his hypnotic trance. “I think you mentioned going somewhere more private,”
he gambled. Fuck it, she wants it.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, did I?”
Annabelle chuckled, tossing her head back slightly, revealing her long, pale
neck. Larry longed to kiss and bite at that fleshy column. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yep. And gentleman
that I am, I suggested my car. It’s parked right outside and it’s a Lincoln, so
there’s plenty of room.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Annabelle looked
amused. “You brave and dirty man. You are asking for a world of hurt,” she
teased, as her hand seemed to drop accidentally onto his knee and slowly moved
up his thigh, stopping just as it was entering the no-fly zone, so to speak.
Something stirred deep in Larry. A voice way back in the cheap seats of his
brain wondered what he had done to stumble upon such luck. Well, a million
drunks drinking in a million bars, someone’s gotta get laid eventually…</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s like that
monkey typewriter thing,” he said out loud.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What’s that, hon?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Nothin’. Wanna get
out of here?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Not quite yet, I
still have my drink to finish! you impatient scoundrel,” she squeezed his thigh
good-naturedly. “Don’t forget, it’s still early yet. This bar is dark, but
outside, well, there’s a whole wide world, bright and shiny as a new penny.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Whatever you say,
babe,” Larry said as he slipped his hand behind her and placed it on the small
of her back. She didn’t flinch. He needed to possess her. Larry forgot about
everything else in his life; it was all a joke anyway, all that seemed to
matter was making this flirty broad his, if only for a few hours. Sometimes
that’s all a man needs to recharge his batteries. Larry was running low, but he
could feel the electricity radiating off of Annabelle. The current ran up his
arm and juiced his brain.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Just then, the front
door swung open and daylight burst into the dark bar. Everyone jumped slightly,
except Annabelle, who continued to smile her enigmatic grin. Even the bartender
had appeared to be lost in some sort of reverie, perhaps recalling a time when
he didn’t spend his afternoons in this shit-hole. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Once Larry’s eyes
adjusted to the burst of light, and the door swung shut, he saw a tall,
dusk-skinned man stride in purposefully. A few steps in and he took stock of
the bar and its patrons. He gave the schlub in the corner a perfunctory glance
and the man nodded his head. He shot the bartender a look and the bartender
seemed to shrug, almost invisibly. Or perhaps Larry imagined it. The room was
teetering and he was having trouble staying on his stool. Finally, the man
fixed his gaze towards the couple at the bar. He lingered momentarily on
Annabelle’s visage, but he fixed his gaze right on Larry. Larry felt like lab
rat, or a zoo animal. He didn’t appreciate the attention. He only wanted
attention from one of these people and this big fella sure as shit wasn’t the
one. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">To Larry’s surprise,
Annabelle waved at the man and motioned for him to walk around the bar. With
his gaze still locked on Larry, he cleared the corner, came up on the other
side of Annabelle, and planted a kiss on her cheek, which she offered
willingly. Larry’s heart hit the floor and the back of his neck tingled.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Larry, this is
Ramon. Ramon, meet Larry. He sells vacuum cleaners. He’s a real sucker!”
Annabelle erupted in hysterical laughter at this last sentence, cackling like
some idiot hyena.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Pleased to meet you,
Larry,” Ramon said with the trace of an accent, “Now get your fucking hand off
my girl.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry realized that
his left hand was still perched on the small of Annabelle’s back. He almost
drew it back, but then the whiskey re-asserted itself and Larry thought, This
is it. This is my moment. I can get it all back, here, now, in this bar. My
self-respect is within reach. Fuckin’ grab it, Larry!</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sorry, bud, I don’t
think so. Me and the lady were having a nice conversation, and we ain’t
finished with it yet. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Annabelle just looked
straight ahead with that smile playing on her lips.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh, I don’t know,
Larry, I was just thinking how my flight was soon. That trip, remember? To the
tropics? Well, here he is.” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">As Larry’s
whiskey-soaked brain tried to piece together what was exactly happening, Ramon
grabbed his wrist in a tight grip and flung it off of Annabelle’s back. That
seemed to spark the adrenaline Larry needed and he immediately stood up,
knocking his stool over. The beast was loose.</span></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Touch me again, and
you take a trip to the hospital.”</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oooooo,” Annabelle
cooed, her smile widening.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ramon, a good six
inches taller than Larry, stepped forward and pushed him hard in the chest.
Larry went flying backwards into a mass of tables and chairs. He hit his head,
but barely felt it. He was barely feeling anything. The schlub jumped up and
Larry could have sworn he saw him rub his hands together. Larry looked at the
bartender, and once again, he shrugged so faintly, Larry couldn’t tell if it
was just a weird tic he had. Guess I’m on my own, he thought, as he made his
way to stand up. He felt like he was moving through molasses. The room was
still spinning, but it had slowed down enough for him to focus on Ramon. He was
a big motherfucker, that was for sure. But Larry grew up with two older
brothers, and they were merciless in their youth. He suffered beatings on a
daily basis until he was big enough to swing back. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry took a step
forward, and so did Ramon. They were almost in each other’s radius. The bigger
they are, Larry thought, as he rushed at Ramon. He threw a punch at the man’s chin,
but ended up hitting him in the arm -- like he was kidding, like this was all
just a joke. Ramon pushed him hard again, but Larry came back for another try.
This time, Ramon blocked the punch, covered Larry’s face with his hand and
threw him back onto the floor.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The schlub was
roaring with laughter, “You swing like a rusty hinge!” </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Larry had picked a
fight with the wrong man, but it was too late to back down. He charged at Ramon
with all of the desperate strength he could muster. Ramon side-stepped Larry’s
clumsy attack and grabbed him by the collar of his cheap suit. There was a
split-second where everything in the room stopped moving, the scene became as
tranquil as a deserted street during first snow -- pure calm and peace reigned.
</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“A rusty hinge!”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ramon pulled Larry
towards him and everything went red as Ramon’s fist detonated on Larry’s nose,
blood and cartilage flying everywhere. His only satisfaction was seeing a few
flecks land on Annabelle’s white slacks as Larry hit the floor for the third time
in less than a minute. This time, he wasn’t getting up. He was beat. The beast
was dead.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The couple towered
over his prostrate body, his muscles limp and defeated. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">All Larry could
manage was a squeak.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Why?" </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Just needed
something to kill the time, sugar.”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">They walked out into
the heat and light and Larry just lay there. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">
</span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0.1pt 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He wasn’t going
anywhere.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
</div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-88957363386576863532013-09-08T14:39:00.000-07:002013-09-29T17:20:58.406-07:00WINTER HITS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lou Reed's singing in your coffee cup</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"Here comes the snow"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Swallow that disappointment, child</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There's more on the way</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Letters from nowhere</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> it's OK to feel lost</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">We can always abandon this building</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Squat in summer century row</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Flame out far above this planet</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">gleaming fleeting expired</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is how you see yourself:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Surrounded by rusted carcasses</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Suffocated by asbestos desires</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Crawling though our mother's ribcage --</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">What happened to all the blood?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">How far is the trauma center?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why does it take so long to become?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">There are more years ahead</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Even more than lay behind</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Who can truly die</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">when our images</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> are trapped so completely</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">so clinically so exquisitely?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Empty suits hanging so sad in your closet</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">"It's like a meat locker in there"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A reason to rise</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ashamed of your own energy</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here is proof</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here is your talisman</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here lies your ancestors</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Here comes the snow</span></span></div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-39487509396557334522013-08-29T13:20:00.002-07:002015-01-26T19:03:38.655-08:00ZED'S DEAD part one<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zed was dead. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;">He knew he wasn’t. But this knowledge did not make him feel
any less dead. He smelled the death slowly seeping off of him; a horrific
stench that made his eyelashes feel as if they had withered, nay <i>melted</i>, across his desert-dry eyes. His
mouth desperately sopped at itself – a cruel joke soaked in foulest water. The
irony did not escape him – to be dead yet acutely aware of these
undesirable sensations, these tiny tortures, like the ineffectual interrogation
routines of Akborovia’s “secret” police. Those fucking bastards could bore a
man to death before any relevant information was rendered. This ridiculous
thought – that he would prefer to be in a darksite prison on the other side of
the world instead of his current foetal position location in what was the
nearest place he had to a home – served to rouse Zed beyond his
free-associating head-chatter into a state of near-consciousness. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Immediately he cursed his return to the land of the living.
For now, the bell tolled for the core of Zed’s body. His muscles felt angry, as
if they were in revolt. They were poised for a revolution, long past the planning stages, against the weakened executive branch atop his
shoulders. The smug powers-that-be; their abuse of the peasants was coming home
to roost. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“No war but the class war,” Zed mumbled to himself,
resulting in a spasm of laughter that twisted through his body like a
wine-screw shearing apart a rotted cork, opening into a sour bottle of spirits.
All that effort – ruined. The time and patience to cultivate the grape, the
care put into selecting the perfect bottle-shape. The agonizing wait from seed
to stomach. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zed thrashed beneath the flannel blanket, alternating
furiously between soul-on-ice chill and the raging fires of hell-on-earth.
“Make up your fooking mind!” he managed to croak in a pathetic voice pitched
between a shriek and a dying dog’s final yelp.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">A normal man would grow weary of these afternoons spent in
misery and torpor. Looking back upon his last decade of spring-summers, and
even harder on his fall-winters, Zed saw his coffin-paned sundowns snaking
ever-further behind, like the notorious replenishing Hordes of Chkmahh. Always a
new body to fill the void left by the sudden violent absence of the old.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>Why-O fookin’ Why – do
I always get so godsdamn cheap philosophick when dwelling in this pit of
despair?</i></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zed felt the mutual disgust begin to force its way up from
his stomach, overrunning any sort of emergency levee he rushed to erect in the
space leading to his throat, erupting full-force into his mouth, and spraying
like dragonsbreath over the interior of his flat. The irony of the blackened
insides of his defective body befouling the insides of his cramped domicile did
not escape him. Even though he felt as if his very essence was evacuating his
shell, his mind remained alert enough to laugh bitterly at his predicament. Zed
felt like a creature of legend, spewing forth his deadly poison with a venom
reserved for cave-invaders. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">As the minutes ticked by, and Zed’s grasping hand found an old
wooden bucket, which perhaps once upon a time held just-ripe apples or
about-to-blossom pearflowers, the torrent of blood and black goo began to
assume a rhythmic cadence. And, once again, this little ditty Zed had conceived
during an earlier bout with himself, came to mind –</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>I’m the human dragon I’m the
human dragon </i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>with the teeth rot
action
with the teeth rot action</i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">This asinine couplet ran in his head, over and over, like a
hummingbird hovering outside of his ear, reverse-feeding him a mantra to
clutch. Something non-corporeal to anchor him to a reality he loathed, but one
he wished to survive out of pure spite. He found the simplest emotions carry
the most weight. They kept him tethered to this awful now-ness with an
unbreakable vengeance. He had sworn a blood oath to himself several seasons past.
He recited the oath precisely as the blood flowed over his lips and tongue – as if he had sacrificed a virgin in the deepest recesses of his guts, an
intestinal temple to all that motivated him. Zed tried to laugh, as a <i>Fuck you</i> to his circumstances, but all
that resulted was the sickening pop of a blood-bubble bursting on his seared lips. The acid from his innermost lining cascaded from his gaping jaw, singeing
his bottom lip and dissolving his teeth in quicktime. The outer shell of his
teeth fizzed and lathered, essential bone in imminent disintegration, his mouth
a source of stalactites, sharp crags to snag a soft pink tongue. All the bad days and nights – an unkind soul would call them evil – but
you’re damned if you do and fucked if you don’t, Zed always thought. And
nothing had proved him wrong yet.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It had been nearly a sun-cycle since Zed had radically
altered his existence – since he had assassinated the Ascended Masters. Zed had
endured a body-shattering post-omnipotence comedown. That taste of eternity had
set off a series of ravaging events that plagued Zed’s body. No witch, healer
or clerk had been able to definitely diagnose what was ailing Zed. Then again,
the majority were charlatans; Zed had tasted power beyond what they could even
comprehend. Nevertheless, what plagued him remained a mystery -- a new quest to
fulfill his lifelong restlessness. The treasure he sought was now his health,
his well-being, his very life. That should have made it precious, but more
often than not, Zed found it difficult to give a solitary fuck. Zed found his thoughts dwelling upon the darker realms, the nether regions
where lurked a lust for oblivion, for a final cancellation of all breath, all need
to gather another fistful of oxygen. One day, Zed would vomit out the remains
of his internal organs and that would be that, ashes will be ashes and dust
will be dust. Zed would be dead and the birds will still chirp. The breeze will
still blow and the gallows will still swing. All will be as right with the
world as it had ever been. Zed could only manage a weak smile at the thought.
The rest of his energy was devoted to keeping himself propped up enough to
enable the crimson waterfall of rancid body juices to funnel forth from his
chapped and burning mouth.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zed read the churning fluids in the wooden bucket as a
witch-woman reads the swirling leaves of their famous tea – the one purported
to kill hangovers, enliven the sexual glands, and generally restore humans to
being humans. But even the strongest Witches’ Tea could not compare to Zed’s
preferred poison – the perfect blend of cycles-fermented barrelwhisk and
heaping nosefuls of finely-grated unicorn horn. Round off this demonic duo with
copious amounts of the sageweed Zed incessantly smoked, and you had a triple
thrash threat of intoxicants coursing through his poor body nearly every moment
of the day. Even when on dangerous missions to shadowy corners of this
sprawling world, Zed found himself absorbing these sometimes expensive,
sometimes difficult-to-procure chemicals into his ever-roiling insides. He had managed to stave
off that most amorphous of emotions, guilt, until the recent past. Now the little gods inside of his skin were demanding his tributes
cease. Even they could not endure much more. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;">================================================
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The day seeped into night and the night folded into day.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Outside of his window, Zed heard the early morn rustlings of
the townsfolk; the shouts of greeting, the sighs of resignation, the unfunny
jokes bandied back and forth like the world’s least valuable currency. It felt
like a half-remembered dream, a semblance of an idea of society. Zed refused to
believe that these people truly existed, that they lived lives of modest
ambitions, of a hard day’s work and a good night’s rest. That the wives toiled
diligently in their little houses as their husbands wore their calloused hands
to the bone, whether humping in the fields all day or slaving in the scorched
air of a blacksmith’s workshop. That the confluence of these events, initiated
and silently agreed to by a certain vicinity’s citizens, constituted what most
people viewed as a healthy, functioning society. This implicit social contract
made Zed’s head swim; his brain plummeted down a mineshaft, and the blood
continued to funnel forth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">===============================================</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The day ebbed. The hours shifted amongst themselves, hiding
their time away like a child hoarding sticky-sweets. It took a severe state of
disrepair for Zed to drift into memories of his own wretched childhood. A
non-childhood, truth be told. Zed was a foundling, a literal babe in the woods,
stumbled upon by caravanning Jipsies. To them, he was a novelty. A family pet
for an expansive set of relations. A chaotic, tumbling family rife with internal friction
and hair-trigger tempers. But also full of the toughest love a boy could ask
for, or endure. By year four, he was the finest pickpocket in the entire
traveling village, by seven he was leading daring burglaries of the aristocracy’s
ill-gotten gains, and the following year he thanked the Jipsies for his brutal
education, spat in their faces and went along his way. And he never looked
back. Except in these pitiful reveries.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">If he wasn’t occupied with vomiting so violently that his
entire body quaked with the force of a mage’s earthshatter spell, he would have
shed a tear, perhaps two. Instead, he was an active volcano spewing the earth’s
guts into the air with a fury borne of centuries locked underground, biding its
time for the inevitable molten prison break.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">His attitude towards Jipsies was ambivalent, at best. That
was a step-up from his attitude towards most things, which see-sawed between
indignant vitriol and an acidic humor which threatened to poison those around
him. If it didn’t kill him first. Days like this, spent in bloody fugue, acted
as a sort of antidote. If he could come out laughing through this hell, then
what he did he have to fear from any man, monster or demi-god? He had not only
rejected infinite power, he had survived himself, the deadliest
son-of-a-(presumed)bitch around. He was Zed Nihil, so <i>Fuck you </i>and <i>Eat shit, asshole</i>. You never heard of
me? That’s probably because I killed everyone you know and stole their
bedsheets while I was at it. Maybe burned their house down, or dismantled their
castle stone by stone. Drank the godsdamn moat in one gulp and pissed a new
river, sure to give a nasty disease to any fool who bathed in its waters. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The bravado was earned, but it meant nothing in the present
moment. He hadn’t figured out how to defeat himself yet. But he was working on it.</span></div>
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">===========================================================</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It was the following day. The crimson froth had subsided,
and Zed had finally managed to sleep longer than the brief intermissions that
granted him blessed relief at those moments when he thought he was finished
with this mortal coil. And even though Zed had intimate knowledge of other
mortal coils, he still had some things to take care of on this particular one. And perhaps a
few people to kill.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Just as Zed endeavored to raise himself to his feet, for the
first time since the ordeal began, a hideous squawking penetrated the cracked
glass of his drafty window. <i>What the
fucking fook?</i> Zed grabbed
ahold of the rickety sill and pulled himself up, his face smashing against the
glass like a bird with bad eyesight. As his eyes congealed into focus, Zed saw
a messenger crow glaring at him from only inches away. <i>Ahh fuck me, I don’t think I’m in the condition to deal with this
shite. </i>In his experience, messenger crows brought only news of impending
hardships and future misery. And they were used exclusively by only the
wealthiest bastards in the land.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">They were the only ones who could afford the crows’ high
prices. Their services did not come cheap, and they weren’t shy about informing
you of their excellent performance record. Reluctantly, and with great effort
that he tried his best to disguise, Zed lifted the window and let the bird in. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Rough night?” the crow squawked.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Aye, keep it down, willya? I’ve got neighbors, and ears.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Well perk them up, Mr. Nix, I have an urgent message for
you. A summons from his Highness himself, Sir Lord Altimore.”</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zed’s head was still foggy, but he quickly pieced together
the basic facts. Sir Lord Altimore was a pompous ass that had employed Zed to
steal his father’s crown back from the bandits who had savagely murdered the
patriarch. It was a relatively routine, if bloody, job, and paid handsomely.
Zed had used one of his myriad aliases after accepting the quest. By pure
chance, he had read a parchment nailed to a communal bulletin board in some
random beatdown village he was passing through. Talking walls, they called them,
usually situated in the town’s square.</span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">WANTED: A CAPABLE MAN FOR A DANGEROUS MISSION. PLEASE
INQUIRE AT THE LOCAL ENFORCER’S LAIR. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">While Zed did not relish the idea of walking straight into
one of his most hated institution’s many outposts, he was also flat broke, and,
as usual, bored silly. Everyone in the surrounding area was so poor and
miserable that he would feel like a complete and total shit-heel for picking a
pocket or breaking and entering a supply store. And they had Sir Lord Fuckface
to thank for that. The man taxed as if money was going extinct, and did he
provide his subjects with better roads, clean wells or even basic protection
from marauders? Hell no, he didn’t, and this pissed Zed off almost as much as
this crow’s presence in his flat.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“And what the fuck does his High-ass want?”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Mr. Nix, please conduct our communication cordially, we
crows do not appreciate disrespect.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Uppity fucking birds, Zed thought. I’ll murder the lot of
them one day.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Apologies, Mr. Crow. Now spill it.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">It seemed as if the crow almost sighed. Zed thought – can a
bird sigh? Fucking drama queens; get on with it, before I puke blood and guts
all over your preened feathers and unblinking inhuman eyes.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Sir Lord Altimore requests your presence at his court. He is
in need of your particular…….skills. Please prepare yourself and present
yourself -- with some decorum this time. The court is still chattering about
your last visit.” </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zed managed a smile, more of a smirk, at this last comment. Hoo boy, did he have some fun at the expense of a certain lady’s innocence,
and to the embarrassment of a few of the minor royal ass-ends’ chagrin.
Stick-in-the-muds, all of ‘em. They should have showered him with praise and
luxuries, not ran him off, especially considering he got the damn crown back
from a formidable gang of killers, Hexnar’s Raiders.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zed considered telling the crow to fuck off, but then he
remembered Altimore’s hellhounds, and he certainly didn’t have the strength to
evade those snarling beasts. They did not require rest and would not cease hunting
until they were dead, and they were a bitch and a half to kill. <i>Fuck</i>. Typical rock/hard place situation
Zed seemed to constantly find himself in.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“You can tell Alto I’ll be there as soon as I can gather my
thoughts, tools and testicles.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Hurry, Mr. Nix, time is of the essence.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">The crow gave him one last disapproving glance and then,
without warning, spread his wings and flew right past Zed’s face, out the
window and back into the sky from whence he came.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">“Fuckin’ cocksucker!” Zed yelled after him, but the crow was
gone, back to deliver the news to his employer. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Zed looked around his disheveled flat, spied a roach of
rolled sageweed, balanced it between his lips and forefingers, struck a match,
inhaled deeply and sharply, held the smoke in as long as he was able, then
exhaled in a long sigh. Zed slapped himself in the face and goosed his plums.
Time to be yourself again, he thought.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;">Lock up your daughters and clasp your jewels tight, Cypher
Nix is on his way, and he is one bad motherfucker!</span></div>
<div style="border: medium none; padding: 0in 0in 1pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: medium none; padding: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><i>to be cont.</i> </span></div>
</div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-53385017613791895182013-07-30T10:54:00.003-07:002013-08-30T17:17:01.767-07:00PILL JUNKIE & CHOCOLATE CHIP<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The bus is mumbling along, everyone staring out the window forlornly, or talking too loud about not getting a raise at work. I step off at 72nd & Franklin and make an immediate bee-line for the 7-11 across the street. Inside, I head for the medicine aisle, eyes keeping a lookout for cameras, mirrors, employees. Scan the shelves--where the fuck?-aha!--bottom shelf, perfect. I crouch down, grab two boxes of Drixoral Cough and Congestion liquid gel caps, and shove them down the front of my pants. Standup and walk to the counter to buy smokes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">A large black man is ahead of me. His big belly stretches his wide-collared fake-velvet shirt taut in the middle. Brown slacks and beat-up two-toned wing-tips. Dude has style, and presence. In a booming baritone, to the nervous adolescent behind the counter, he says, "Box of Newports, please."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Excellent choice," I say.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The man turns and casts a bemused eye. He smiles, showing impeccable white teeth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"I like my cigarettes like I like my women. Smooth......with a classy touch."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Shouldn't that be 'glassy.'"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Haha! You're funny, son. They call me Chocolate Chip, it's painted on my van."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">He points outside, and through the double-glass doors is a late 60s Chevy van painted a deep scarlet. Emblazoned on the side in large, crisp block letters is CHOCOLATE CHIP. Directly beneath, in smaller, shaky stencils, is MOTHERFUCKER.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEima2qLtryPSXn9INPiqGndd4fw6uDVL8Qk7un5x7w8z14IgniVU6sRhiqTAlyV3TcP73F7yoDrdi3nkN7W-JoYk0_pPFhzEQrayBTVhMFevhxzUU8yS4e8qXUxTLh2T8m_N713jIDTbQcB/s1600/-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEima2qLtryPSXn9INPiqGndd4fw6uDVL8Qk7un5x7w8z14IgniVU6sRhiqTAlyV3TcP73F7yoDrdi3nkN7W-JoYk0_pPFhzEQrayBTVhMFevhxzUU8yS4e8qXUxTLh2T8m_N713jIDTbQcB/s320/-1.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Verrrrry cool," I drawl, "They call me PJ, but you can call me James."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"What's that stand for?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Pill Junkie."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Ha! Ha! Ha! You some kinda wack cracker, aintchu?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Damn straight," I smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Wanna cruise around for a bit, shoot the shit?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Sure. Hold on." I run and grab a bottle of Gatorade and pay for my cigs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The van is plush and smells like a fresh roll of toilet paper. Chocolate Chip grunts as he starts the van, coughs, farts, pushes in a tape and hits the gas. The bass is deep and wide like an ocean trench.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Who we listening to?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Trouble Funk, punk, muthafuckin' Trouble Funk!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Yeah!" I yell and get as funky as I can. I fish the Drixoral boxes out of my pants, pop 'em one by one out of their blister packs, and start downing them, chasing with the Gatorade, grimacing as each soft, smooth gel cap slides down my throat. The pills are bulbous, and although I try to avoid it, the outer edges always manage to graze my pipe and leave their evil, lingering taste. It's so artificial it's like drinking liquid soap.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"What the hell are you doing?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Taking my medicine."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Cold medicine? What's it gonna do, make you immune?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Yeah, it's gonna fuck me up and make me immune to reality, the worst kind of sickness. This shit's got Dextromethorphan, which is synthesized codeine, and ephedrine, which is speed, in it. Take about 10 to 15 and hello sunshine.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"So what's it do?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Well, first you might puke, then, for the next 8 or 10 hours, everything either speeds up or slows down, I can never figure out which. The closest equivalent is an acid trip, but it's different. A sort of milky haze settles over the world, eyes searching with wind tunnel vision, trees dancing like epileptic ballet figures....."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Uh huh."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Yeah, well, it's purty cool. Oh, you might also itch a lot, although that's common with most narcotics." I lift up my pant legs and Chocolate Chip stares at the dozens of scabs around my shins and ankles. "My favorite spot," I chuckle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Lord, you are crazy. Me, I stick to nature," he says as a massive joint materializes in his hand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Hey man, grass and Drixoral go together like ham and eggs, Iggy and the Stooges, Mork and Mindy, Peter and the Test Tube Babies...."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"I have no idea what you're talkin' about."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Yeah, most people dont."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Shut up and hit this."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">The grass is good and the Drixoral starts making its presence known. We're driving around some faceless neighborhood exchanging lost love stories when it hits me: there is only one suburb. All suburbs are cloned from this original like an atom splitting or a virus multiplying, and all its inhabitants are created in the same petri dish like bacteria. All the streets are the same length and all the street names are anagrams of the originals. The same house in every suburb has the same cheesy plastic lawn decorations and the same mailbox is blown up every couple weeks by the same kids with the same haircuts. Every year at the block party the same people people get drunk and the same complain about it to their friends. The same husbands fuck the same secretaries at the same motels on the outskirts of town...........they even use the same room number!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">I'm trying to explain this to Chocolate Chip, but he grew up in the city and cut school everyday to hang out with his 24 year old girlfriend. They would go down to the corner where the MCs battled, and drink 40s of Olde E and try to score some weed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Did you ever battle?" I ask.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Naw. Well, a couple few times I would bust some rhymes, run over MCs like the March of Dimes."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">I couldn't stop laughing for five minutes, and not until I'd opened the door and puked all over Woodhaven Drive.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">".......break it down jazz style/wear it with a fag style/undone in the meanwhile/countless enemies of freestyle/words rhyme/backwards in time/step without precision/someone screamed -- "Hinckley had a vision!"/velour pinafore penetrate the core/nothin but a sucka multiplied by four/I see a light in the distance/but it ain't in the attic/so I ignore it like so much radio static........too many goddamn vital statistics/flyin thru the air like homicidal ballistics/paper spread thin/in my wallet again/ can't even afford a ten/dollar bag/get lifted/throw in the rag.........I'm sick with the non-stop betrayals and portrayals/kick 'em down like so many guard-rails/don't save the whales/save yr fuckin mind/yr gonna need it for the perfect crime/a set-up--a stakeout--a late night--freakout.......don't forget to take pictures or regret to read scriptures.......hit the blunt 3 times looked around and my mind reeled [beat cymbal beat beat cymbal] runnin from cops thru soccer fields soccer fields....."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">I look over. Chocolate Chip has a huge grin on his face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"I like you, man, I really really like you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">(the bass said boom and the drums said twack)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"So, PJ, where you from?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Where am I from? Who the fuck knows, y'know? I've been around forever. I'm what you call an archetype. I existed before there was anything to exist. You know the story of Cain and Abel? I made that story <i>up</i>, y'know what I'm sayin'?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Not really."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"It's like this: this planet, it ain't a planet. There's no such thing. It's a vibration. Right now, I'm at about five vibrations. Between the Drix, the dank, and the T Funk, I'm aiming for about eight, maybe nine or eleven."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"This ain't Trouble Funk no more, it's fuckin' Zapp!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"Sorry, sorry. What I'm trying to say is, we don't need this," I wave my arms towards the endless rows of manicured lawns.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">"We need <i>this</i>," I pop some more Drixoral, close my eyes, and clench my teeth into a smile.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Chocolate Chip whistles and it stretches out into infinity.........echoes among the stars.......feeds back upon itself............</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">A new universe is born.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">{pic by Flash}</span></span>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-17149381232417796802013-07-25T10:46:00.000-07:002015-02-04T09:26:04.596-08:00REVIEWS OF MUSICAL MUSICKS<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">100 Flowers</span> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>s/t LP</b></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Way back in the early part of the last decade of the last
century, you could walk into any halfway decent record store, dig through the
used CD bin, and come up with a $3-5 copy of the 100 Flowers collection <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">100 Years of Pulchritude. </i>And if you were
a hip motherfucker *ahem*, then you knew that 100 Flowers were the sequel to
legendary art-punk primitives, The Urinals. Much like The Screamers, Urinals
material was exceedingly rare at this point. It wasn’t until 1996, when
Amphetamine Reptile released the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Negative
Capability…..Check it Out! </i>compilation, that the average loser could bask
in the wonder of songs like “Black Hole” and “I’m a Bug.” The 100 Flowers CD
was on Rhino, so they were everywhere. At some point, someone must have bought
the thing new cuz it was everywhere used. Or maybe there really were that many
music journalists back then. I owned it for a few years, listened occasionally,
but was always struck with the notion that they were a lesser Minutemen (whose
cover of Urinals’ “Ack Ack Ack” was how most people even knew of these bands).
One day, I sold it, and never regretted it. Then Urinals stuff appeared and
that felt much more satisfying. So, when Superior Viaduct announced an
impending reissue of the sole 100 Flowers LP, I was nonplussed. “Big deal,
bring on Church Police,” I thought. Well, fuck me sideways, cuz my young mind
must’ve not been “ready” for 100 Flowers. What seemed polished and neutered all
of those years ago, now just seems like classic Cali art-punk. I’m willing to
bet that the mastering on this LP trumps the shitty analog-to-digital transfer
of a CD circa 1990. Also, without the addition of 12 bonus tracks, it’s easier
to focus on the LP as a coherent statement, instead of part of a catalog of
material. In other words, this rules! Featuring the exact same trio as the
Urinals, 100 Flowers exhibit a growing mastery of both their instruments and
their songwriting. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">100 Flowers </i>contains
sixteen examples of how to do “angular” properly. There’s still all the pent-up
sexual frustration of old (“Horizontal” “Strip Club”), but tempered with a
sense of growing older and pondering the meaning of love and life (“I Don’t Own
My Own Heart”). After gorging on the simultaneously-re-released Urinals 7”s, do
yrself a favor and pick this platter up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>[Superior Viaduct; <a href="http://superiorviaduct.com/">superiorviaduct.com</a>]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Bradley Dean &
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">NYC rock n’ roll that could use a little more dirt under its
fingernails. “Top of the Hour” is power-pop reminiscent of Gentleman Jesse or
other similar modern purveyors. Backing vocals by Kim Warnick of The Fastbacks
lends some legitimacy, but the song still falls flat. Well-played, but zero
fizz. The cap has been left off of this soda bottle for too long. “Everybody’s
Headed to the Graveyard” is a little tougher, a bit of a hitch in its step, but
its low-down vibe seems a bit forced. A few more trips to the wrong side of the
tracks might pay off for this crew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">[</span>Tone Town]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Cellos</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘The Accident’ 12” EP</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Following an EP on Dead Beat last year, Canada’s Cellos
throw another 12” at us. There’s definitely something of the, what is it, third
(?) wave of AmRep/TnG-“core,” contained in these grooves. Much like the
now-defunct Grids, this is muscular, well-played post-Pissed Jeans pummel. It’s
a little cleaner and more streamlined than the bulk of that aggro resurgence,
but still manages to hit fairly hard. I can see these dudes holding their own
on a bill with fellow Ontarians Metz. I’m sure they’re saving their loonies to
record with Albini. I’ll always have a soft spot for this sound, but Cellos
don’t quite put my panties in a bunch (who am I kidding, I’m going commando).
On “Rust and Government” and “Pilgrimage,” Cellos nudge in a slight amount of
melody, and it kind of works against them – I’m reminded of that nebulous
sorta-metal that is the stuff of countless <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brooklyn
Vegan</i> posts. The cover art even has a sub-Kozik feel to it. Not bad, but
not great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[Ah Some; <a href="http://ahsomerecords.com/">ahsomerecords.com</a>]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><b>CUNTZ <i>Aloha</i></b><i> </i><b>LP</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">On their debut LP, Australia’s Cuntz cycle through various
noise rock motifs with a brutish force, challenging your eardrums and your
sense of decency. The opening salvo of “Homeless” and “Casual Drinker” hits as
hard as any Pissed Jeans 1-2 punch, but the album truly hits its stride with
the dizzying paranoia of “Lost” and “Meth.” Singer Ben’s desperate roar recalls
the unhinged bellow of Dugald McKenzie, deceased shouter from ‘80s hellions,
Venom P. Stinger. Cuntz are the latest and current greatest in a long line of
degenerate scuzz-rockers from Down Under, gifting us with one of the finest albums
of its type to come down the pipe in ages. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">[Homeless] <u>originally appeared in High Times mag</u></span></div>
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Lives” 7”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Dadamah were an extraordinary band. Comprised of some of New
Zealand’s finest – including members of Pin Group, Terminals, and many more –
Dadamah’s music captured the inner turmoil of love-gone-dead as well as anyone
before or since. With a sound that echoed, but never imitated, The Velvet
Underground, Dadamah stuck around long enough to give us 2 classic singles and
a masterful LP. As they had before the band existed, the members continued to
make fantastic new sounds in old and fresh combos, but in some ways Dadamah was
their crowning achievement. After nearly two decades, this unexpected single
comes out with the quiet and modest force that the band itself harnessed so
well. Housed in a lovely and sturdy jacket and spinning on marbled red vinyl,
Dadamah drops the emotional hammer on you as if they had merely stepped outside
for a smoke. Recorded back in ’92 on their trusty Tascam 4-track, this 45 is a
must-own for the Dadamah fan. “Violet Stains Red” is a Roy number reminiscent
of “High Tension House,” one of the LP’s highlights. I keep on thinking “Absent
and Erotic Lives” is the name of a Bergman movie, but the internet keeps on
telling me I’m delusional. Typical. But it is most definitely a Kim Pieters-sung
bummer, which, perversely, makes me grin. And bear it. This weight is heavy and
so is Dadamah. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[Yellow Electric; ?]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">La Luz</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </span>“Call Me In The Day”/”Easy Baby”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">All-female Seattle quartet with a faithful and
well-presented surf/girl-group hybrid. The surf aspect of their sound leans
towards the dreamy and melancholic, not “Pipeline” and Pulp Fiction. “Call Me
In The Day” has the requisite Spector-esque harmonies and enveloping sound, but
it’s done so well here that you don’t find yourself sneering about hipster
beach rock or whatever the fuck that cruise-ship song-and-dance routine calls
itself. “Easy Baby” is even more Ronettes-y, yet it triumphs over redundancy by
virtue of actually conveying the mood that these ladies are attempting to
conjure. La Luz reaches beyond the surface elements, and comes up with a
well-crafted and performed single. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[Water Wing; <a href="http://waterwingrecords.com/">waterwingrecords.com</a>]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Decent, vaguely “garage” punk, but a bit heavier than the
normal limpdick fare people pass off these days. “Clawless Paw” has a cool
woozy quality to it. The singer sounds like he’s singing to himself on a
drunken walk home, stars out, heart smashed. The flip has the inevitable Black
Lips steez (outdated slang vol. IV). It’s just not dirty or wild enough to
really get your feet moving or trigger a Pavlovian desire to drink. And that’s
really what garage punk should be all about. Better luck next time,
boys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[Sophomore Lounge; <a href="http://www.sophomorelounge.com/">www.sophomorelounge.com</a>]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Obnox</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘IV: A Ragin’ in the Sun’ 7” EP</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Obnox onslaught continues with one of his best yet, on a
re-activated Anyway Records no less. Anyway was responsible for some of the
finest platters out of Columbus in its ‘90s heyday and we should welcome them
back with a big ol’ bear-hug, back-slap, and a 6 pack of Stroh’s (or Straub, if
you must). This 4-song EP by Obnox is exactly the sort of record that Anyway
made its name on – fuzzy, dirty small-town punk packed to the gills with hooks.
“Rock n Roll Babylon” sounds like a Dead Boys song playing on a wrecked car stereo idling in the
driveway at your neighbors’ house. You crane your neck out the window for a closer
look and the sweet, powerful, dare I say <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gorgeous</i></b>, “Ciara” floats up to you,
which defies logic cuz it is heavy as hell. I keep checking the liner notes to
see who Bim is covering, and I keep coming up empty cuz he wrote the damn
thing. One of the best songs of 2013 so far. “The President Smokes (pro drug
rally)” greets you with a Public Enemy sample and then lays out a thick carpet
of bomb-blasted beats. The title cut brings back Thomas’ near-falsetto singing
for another cut packed tight with deep guitar squall, soaring (no shit) vocals,
and memorable melodies that you can stick in your pocket and take with you for
the day. On this installment, guest musicians from TMIBH, Bad Noids, and Big
Black Africa assist Obnox in continuing to reign o’er the Cleveland scene. Not
bad for a stoner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>[Anyway; <a href="mailto:belakoe@anyway-records.com">belakoe@anyway-records.com</a>]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Shady and The Vamp</b></span>
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘As We Told You Earlier’ 10”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A few years ago, I spent some time driving around Europe with
NYC scumfucks Woman, and one of their shows was at a converted prison way up
high in the Swiss Alps. And it was really fucking fun. In addition to the gracious
hospitality displayed by the hosts, there was an excellent opening band (a
rarity in Europe). Besides playing a killer set of garage-punk, these young
delinquents shared quite a bit of hashish with yours truly. Let’s call it
payola, far in advance. The first Shady and The Vamp single was a high-quality
twofer, and now they’ve graduated to a 10” (baby steps); six songs of
garage-punk as good as any band on Burger, Hozac or from San Francisco,
California, USA. You’ve got yer now-standard -- but<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>well done --B’lips-like songs like “Let Me Know” and
“Kickin’ You Out,” but “Piangi Conme” is a French-sung Nugget<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with tasteful psych touches hovering
around the periphery. You won’t be surprised to find that “Live Fast Die” is
fast punk, nor that “Geek” closes things out with a slow-burn sneer. Good stuff
from this youthful trio. Original press of 300 is sold out, but look for a
repress in June. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[Moi j'connais Records;<cite><span style="font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></cite><cite><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-style: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">moijconnais.com]</span></cite></span></div>
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Vamp/Les Chevaux Sauvages</span> split 7”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Shady keeps their winning streak going with two ace cuts on
this split. “The Other Way” is fast, tuneful garage punk that recalls the
all-too-rare occasions when Goodnight Loving would loosen up and kick out the
jams. “Ain’t Got No Love” is a mid-tempo number that brings up warm thoughts of
Mudhoney’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Every Good Boy Deserves Fudge</i></b>, an important record to teenage
me. Les Chevaux Sauvages are fellow Swiss garage-rockers, and their
contribution, “Holy Bus,” is a solid <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Back From the Grave</i></b>-robber. Good
single here, limited to 300 copies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>[High Time/Lido]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Skimask</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Cute Mutant’ LP</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Two dudes with a mic, a coupla pedals, a drum kit, the
complete discography of Load Records and an itch to make some noise, hook up
with the dude from Fat Day and proceed to blow it out. Your ass. Apparently,
they have quite a live rep in the Boston basement scene. I can certainly
picture a gaggle of drunken students gettin’ goofy to these fellas after a hard
day at the collegiate trough. The band themselves strike me as the Good Will
Hunting of the local weirdo scene. Really smart, and able to kick some ass, but
deep down they are actually sensitive janitors. Unfortunately, the album, like
the movie, is a wash. The music has density to it, but it just grinds and
grinds; a headache on wax. When it’s over, you will be wondering why you just
spent twenty minutes with your head in the dispose-all. My main beef is the
singer. His overmodulated voice wails through each song in exactly the same
way. Each syllable is drawn out to emphasize the microphone’s natural feedback,
but it just gets annoying after awhile. Also, they have a song called “Every
Week iz Shark Week” which they must’ve grabbed off of Twitter. If you live in
the area, pick it up, you’ll be glad to have it. Rest of the world? Maybe wait
for the basement gig in yr town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[Sophomore Lounge; <a href="http://www.sophomorelounge.com/">www.sophomorelounge.com</a>]</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Snapper</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>s/t 12” EP</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The Captured Tracks/Flying Nun reissue program is just
getting started, but it’s already paying off nicely. Here we have the debut EP
from Peter Gutteridge’s Snapper. A one-time member of The Clean, The Chills,
Great Unwashed, and Puddle, Gutteridge found his finest vehicle in the menacing
Suicide-goes-surf of Snapper. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Gutter</i></b>idge was aptly named, as he
eventually succumbed to a debilitating smack habit, which laid him low for many
a year. Recently, he has emerged from “retirement” with a new Snapper line-up,
so these reissues are well-timed. Originally poking its head out in 1988, this
4-song EP is a perfect snapshot of Snapper’s <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">raison d’etre</i></b>. In fact,
the title of side two’s “Death and Weirdness in the Surfing Zone” tells you all
you need to know. You’d hafta be a real square not to dig on these tunes.
Before Stereolab co-opted the Neu! template, Snapper was slamming the <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">motorik</i>
</b>beat into their pipeline. Was that a drug ref? I dunno, are you a fuckin’
square?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>[Flying Nun/Captured
Tracks; <a href="http://flyingnun.co.nz/">flyingnun.co.nz</a> – <a href="http://capturedtracks.com/">capturedtracks.com</a>]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: large;">Soggy</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> </span>“Waiting for the War”/”47 Chromosomes”
7”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">It was probably foolish to pay 16 bucks (ppd.) for a 2-song
45, especially in my current state of under-employment, but fuckin A, what two
songs they are. I never pulled the trigger on that Soggy LP some years back
(“pullin’ a Soggy” – DJ Rick) but I sure have jammed the files enough. And two
of the best, if not<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i>best, songs on
that slab are contained on this soon-to-be-DJ-mainstay ripper of a lil’
platter. The cover and inner labels give you conflicting info on which song is
truly the “A-side,” but that’s as it should be, because either of these
Stooges-inspired punk/hard rock burners could front any size record. It’s a
close one, but my pick is “47 Chromosomes.” After wildman singer Beb expels a
few guttural Iggy-like grunts, the band dive-bombs into a riff that either
Motorhead or The Users could have written. Just hearing Beb sneer “chromosomes,”
in an unclassifiable accent that sounds like a Japanese man learning English
from a French guy, erases any doubt as to if those sixteen dollars were well
spent. Soggy perfectly walk the line between punk, hard rock and metal so effortlessly
that it’s a mystery as to why more bands cannot – conversely, it’s a testament
to how utterly ass-kicking these French biker wanna-bes were in 1981.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was probably a lonely time for a
band that played such ferocious non-hardcore, non-NWOBHM rock n’ roll. “Waiting
for the War” shows the new wave (o’ metal) influence, with its chugging riffs,
wicked soloing and tempo shifts. Bottom line: If you don’t have any of the LPs, better snag
this ‘un while you can.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[Cameleon; ???]</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small; mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><b>Toxie</b></span></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span> </span>“Newgate”/”Ties” 7”</b></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Debut wax from Memphis indie quartet, Toxie. “Newgate” is
maybe a little too polite; a sharp angle or two would nudge this away from the
Best Coast towards the East Coast, where bands like Tsunami used to rule the
scene. Hey, I’m a bitter guy and I like bitter, brittle music. That’s why the
flip, “Ties,” is more my style. It’s got more power, more oomph, and rises and
falls like your lover’s chest in a deep sleep. No need to put the mirror under
their mouth, they’re still breathing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">[Goner; <a href="http://www.goner-records.com/">www.goner-records.com</a>]</span><br />
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-3690768849320063662013-06-10T18:21:00.001-07:002013-08-30T18:13:02.239-07:00THE FORBIDDEN MOUNTAIN<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> The thief was thrown off the
caravan in the middle of the night. His body tumbled through the underbrush
like a discarded rag doll. His head kissed a log roughly and then it was dark.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">When he recovered consciousness,
the thief discovered his hand in the mouth of a big black bear. The bear
appeared to be playing with him, but the thief did not like this game. He
closed his fist around the bear’s thick, pulsating tongue, and pulled. The
beast emitted a surprised yelp as the human yanked the beast towards him and
brought his fist down on its eye. The thief released the bear’s tongue and it
scampered off in search of easier, and more fun, prey.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">The
thief jumped to his feet and brushed himself off. An odd smile played on his
lips. “Thrown off another fucking caravan,” he thought. “Ah well, they were
pompous and boring. And I had my eye on a lot more than Lady Andra’s cleavage.
Bravo to them, the stiffs.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Off
in the distance, the thief spied plumes of smoke drifting across the sky as
night retreated into day. Wary of hungry bears, he made his towards this
semblance of civilization. After all, forest creatures, as beautiful and
mysterious as they are, do not have much to steal.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The town ended up being further
away than it appeared. It lay at the base of a mountain whose craggy peak
seemed to vanish in the hazy mist of the late morning. A sign on the road
leading into the town read: FOOTSVILLE. The thief, dirty, hungry, and tired,
sauntered into Footsville with just a worn pack on his back. Despite it being a
small town, there was a steady flow of citizens milling around the center
square. Here, merchants hawked their goods with practiced precision, knowing
exactly the correct pitch to toss at passersby. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Hello
sir, yer boots are lookin’ mighty bare, aren’t they? I know yer a hard-workin’
man. Don’ know yer name, but I know yer face, and I know you’ve been sluggin’
these here hills for more’n a few sun-cycles. C’mon now sir, don’ walk away
from me now. Not on those worn soles. C’mon now sir, do yourself, and yer
family’s selves, a favor. Ah yesssss, there ya go sir. Yer a good man.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">The
thief smiled. Who is to say who the true thieves are in this world? These guys
were real operators. And their prey were collaborators. Kinda made him sick
really. These people were complicit in their own selling. Accomplices to their
own murders. At least his marks were unaware that they were being filched.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">“You,
sir!” a merchant barked as he passed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Who, me?” said the thief, batting
his eyelashes in feigned innocence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, you! You have the mark of an
adventurer about you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Why, however did you guess?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Har har! Perhaps you are a
jester?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Nah, doesn’t pay so well. And
nobility is fickle.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Har har!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The thief looked closer at the
guffawing merchant. He was tall and slender, with a peculiar glint in his eye,
and a distinctive bent to his nose, almost like a hawk’s beak. He stood behind
a makeshift table which featured an array of trinkets and baubles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“See anything you fancy?” the man
said, arching an eyebrow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“What is this, a whorehouse? I’ll
let you know.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I’m sure you will.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The thief scanned the items,
suddenly curious. His gaze fell upon a rather attractive-looking longknife. The
dagger was about a foot and a half long, and it rested in a well-worn scabbard
that had a subtle, yet beguiling, serpentine pattern coiling its way down the
blade. After all, he needed a weapon, as the sadsacks on the royal caravan had
relieved him of his. He picked up the dagger and unsheathed it. The blade was
incredibly sharp, almost as if it had just been made.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“How much?” asked the thief.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“However much you feel is
appropriate, sir.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“You’re kidding, right?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Sir, you are the one who kids.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Heh, right. I almost forgot. Alright.
How about this?” The thief reached into his pack and produced a beautiful
brooch made of solid gold and limned with glittering rubies. But this extremely
expensive item did not quite elicit the expected response. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I suppose that will do,” said the
merchant, almost as if he were sighing.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Well then,” the thief grunted,
placing the brooch on the table. He attached the dagger to his belt and began
to walk away.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Wait, my friend.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The thief stopped and turned
around. The sudden melancholy had been erased off the merchant’s face, replaced
by an almost mischievous expression.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I have something else for you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Look, pal, this is all I want and
all I need.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Please, take this slip of
parchment. An adventurer like yourself may find it handy, if only to write
directions on it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The thief took the parchment from
the merchant’s outstretched hand. He examined it. It was wholly unremarkable,
just a run-of-the-mill piece of parchment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Gee thanks.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I realize it looks quite plain,
but the man who gave it to me said that it came from the Forbidden Mountain.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“The what?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“The Forbidden Mountain,” the
merchant whispered, casting his eyes upward towards the peak that dominated the
skyline.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Right. And why is it forbidden?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “It is said that a great and powerful
man resides at the top, in a fortress that he built. It is said that this man
is a master of many arcane and esoteric disciplines, some of which have been
forgotten by everyone on the planet, save for him. It is said that he has a
vast collection of treasures, including some of the magical persuasion.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Sounds like a real winner. Well,
thanks for the piece of paper, maybe I can wipe my ass with it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> The thief left the merchant lost in
his reverie, imagining mysterious and powerful men wringing out the secrets of
life. The thief had more immediate, mundane concerns. Like a hot meal, a few
pints of ale and a reasonably comfortable bed.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">The
thief stopped at the first inn he saw. The sign out front read: THE GILDED AGE.
He walked up to the front desk. An old man with forests for eyebrows looked up.
His eyes seemed to be an afterthought when compared to the brows.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“What
cannae do fair yae?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“A
room, a pint.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Aright,
the room is twenny a night, and the tavern is right there, through the
doors……Wait sir, I need a name tae put yae under. House policy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"> “You’ve
gotta be fookin’ kiddin’ me. OK, put it under Zed Nihil.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Very
good then.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Swell.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Despite
his exhaustion, Zed walked into the tavern with a healthy dose of swagger. He
took a seat at a deserted corner table that sat well within the shadows. The
tavern was fairly crowded, with an even mix of locals and travelers. Zed had
been around long enough to tell the difference between the two. The locals
lounged with more casual body language, while the travelers were more wary, keeping
to themselves. A barmaid came around and Zed ordered a pint of the housebrew.
At a nearby table, a pair of locals talked excitedly, and perhaps a little too
loudly. Zed couldn’t help but listen.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">“I’m
tellin’ yae, mate, Clize sez he’s been up there.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s
a crock of shite and yae know it, Malthus.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Maybe,
yeah? But Clize ain’t been the same, and yae know it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“That
has nothin’ to do with the mountain, mate. ‘S his wife.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Maybe,
yeah.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Then
they were silent for awhile, contemplating poor Clize’s fate. Zed’s curiosity
was piqued, but he started to feel conspicuous. Then he remembered the
parchment the merchant had given him. He pulled it out and laid it flat on the
rickety table. He peered over it, but could see nothing extraordinary about it.
Zed left it there as he began to roll a smoke. The barmaid came around with
another pint. As she set down the glass, a wave of ale spilled over the lip,
splashing on the table and soaking the parchment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh!
I’m so sorry, sir.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“’S OK, lass. Don’t worry your
pretty little head about it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I’ll be right back to clean that
up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“No problem.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The problem was that the two locals,
who previously had been unaware of his existence, were now staring straight at
him. Zed pretended not to notice and resumed rolling his smoke. The barmaid
returned with a rag and wiped up the spilled brew. As she lifted the wet
parchment to dry beneath it, Zed was seized with a bizarre urgency and snatched
it out of her hand. The barmaid recoiled in surprise.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Er, sorry; it’s my family tree.
I’ve been working real hard on it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Oh.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">After she walked away, Zed laid out
the parchment. Something caught his eye. Some marks that initially appeared to
be ale stains, were now quite clearly words. Zed watched as a passage formed on
the parchment. It read:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">THERE MUST BE A MIND. THAT IS WHY
OVER THE CENTURIES MEN FAR FROM IGNORANT HAVE THOUGHT OF THE MASTERS NOT AS
PHYSICAL BEINGS BUT AS A COLLECTIVE SYMBOL, AS A CONTINOUS INCARNATION OF A
FIXED INTENTION.</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">{BUT
THEY ARE REAL}</i></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 1.5in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
thought: This is getting really weird.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
sunk into the bed with a deep sigh of relief. What a long, strange day it had
been. Well, now he was drunk and that was just fine with him. He’d rather dance
with the spirits than a human anyday. Zed glanced at the peculiar piece of
parchment that rested on the nightstand. It was blank again, as if erased by
some unseen hand when he wasn’t looking.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Back
in the tavern, the two yokels had stared him down for a few minutes. Zed
flashed them a stupid smile and raised his glass in a friendly salute. They
grunted and half-raised their pints in response. Zed just sat there with that
stupid smile. Eventually they left, stumbling back home to their weary wives.
Zed tried flirting with his waitress, but the barkeep took her aside and
whispered a few things to her. That put a stop to that. Maybe it was the heavy
brew, but Zed left the tavern for his room feeling empty, lonely and hopeless.
One of Zed’s favorite songs popped into his head –</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">No fun, my babe, no fun</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No
fun to be alone</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Walking
by myself</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No
fun to be alone</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">In
love</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>with
nobody else</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Before passing out, Zed decided
that he would tackle the mountain the next day. Forbidden or not, if there was
treasure up there, Zed intended to gorge himself on its sparkling countenance.
“My true love……you are…….my true love…..yes, you, baby…..yes youuuuu…….” he
hummed himself to sleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Zed was awoken far too early by the
screeching klaxon of a dragonbird’s throat. He had grumbled his way back to a
surface slumber when he heard two familiar voices conversing outside his
window.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“I dinnae like the look o’ that
stranger in the pub last night, Malthus. Seemed a mite too innarested in his
surroundings, yeah?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Aye, bleedin’ interlopers.
Pretending they’re dumber than they ain’t. I tells yae, Errance, really gets me
goat.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Aye. P’raps us two will have to
‘run in’ to that squirrely fellow again tonight. Give ‘im a message from the
Footsville Welcoming Committee.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Hoo hoo, yessir, Errance.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">As their voices drifted through his
open window, Zed lay in bed trying not too laugh too loudly.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">“Screw you, you dumb hilljacks.
I’ll be long gone from this godsforsaken town by then anyway.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Zed went back to sleep.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">In the early afternoon, after soothing his hangover with a
spot of Witches’ Tea, Zed set out for the mountain. It was a beautiful, breezy
day with a hint of something in the air; promise maybe, or expectation. Zed
savored this invisible scent, rolled it around on the back of his tongue, drunk
deep from its secret well.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">A
few suspicious glares followed him out of Footsville (what kind of stoopid
fookin’ name is that? Zed thought), but he disarmed them with a hearty chuckle.
After all, he was used to this sort of treatment. In fact, he fed off of it.
And he was hungry. “Don’t go back to Footsvi-<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">i</i>…lle…..” he sang.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
walked through the forest. He walked over rocks, animal carcasses, and fallen
trees, lying there as if sleeping, really just sleeping.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Pull
yourself up by the roots, boy,” he commanded.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">But
they weren’t getting up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
saw a hawk circling above him. It followed him like a halo, outlining his past
and future. Within the circle, the hawk recreated the void that lurked within
Zed. He respected and acknowledged this; the hawk was very beautiful, regal
even. <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">He
walked and ran and jumped through the forest, delighting in the supple movement
of his body. Self-trained in so many disciplines, Zed felt unstoppable. His
blood pumping hard, he pushed himself harder. He had a vague premonition that
he would discover just how well he taught himself at the top of the mountain.
Zed welcomed this test.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Bring
it on, motherfuckers. Be you demon, dragon, ogre, or mage. Necromancer, high
priest, paladin, or sage. I got a nice, new, shiny dagger that’s compatible to
your blood type. Wooohoooo!!!!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">By
the time night had descended, Zed had climbed three-fourths of the mountain. As
his adrenalin high wore off, he decided to set up camp. Well, as much camp as
can be set up with a rock for a pillow and a dirty blanket that he had stolen from
The Gilded Age. Zed closed his eyes and dreamt of glittering jewels and magical
cloaks.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> SNAP! went a fallen branch and Zed
was instantly awake. He knew the sounds of forest animals, and this was no forest
animal. He heard a set of heavy breathing lungs, and then, behind him, another
loud, clumsy human.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Grab ‘im, Malthus!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Hands
reached out to snare him, but he rolled away into a patch of complete darkness.
And waited.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Shit!
I missed him, Errance! ‘Eads up, he’s comin’ your way!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
crouched like a mountain cat, patient and calm. Errance, thinking he was being
stealthy, walked within a few feet of Zed, completely oblivious. Zed reached
out and embraced him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Errance,
where the fuck are you? Do you see ‘im? Don’t let that bastard get away!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Silence.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Then,
behind him, Malthus heard a clipped gurgling. He swung around, brandishing his
battered shortsword. Errance’s body collapsed to the ground in a pool of
crimson.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Too bad Clize couldn’t make it, eh
Malthus?” Zed said, barely controlling his delight. “But then again, he
probably had the good sense to stay home with his wife.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Yer fuckin’ dead!” Malthus
screamed, running at Zed in a berserker’s rage.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “No, asshole, you are.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> In one sublime movement, Zed
parried Malthus’ thrust, clasped his throat with a talon-like hand, and smashed
his heel into Malthus’ knee. Malthus lost his footing, but Zed held him close.
A surgical slice along the forearm, cutting his muscles and tendons, forced Malthus
to drop his sword. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Now you listen here, Malthus. I’m
about to kill you in a most unpleasant way. I don’t like people like you, and I
gotta admit that I’m kinda touched that you and your idiot partner decided to
make the effort to come all the way up here to kill me. Gets me a little choked
up,” Zed squeezed Malthus’ throat. “Get it?! A little ‘choked up’?!? Ha ha ha
ha!!! Damn, man, you should be thrilled that you’re being croaked by such an
erudite, good-looking and all-around badass funnyfuck like myself. I mean, you
coulda died of old age or something boring like that, y’know? Seeya!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Very slowly, Zed squeezed Malthus’
throat until his eyeballs began pushing themselves out of their sockets.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Wow, you look surprised! I told
you it was gonna be unpleasant! Nobody ever believes me. That’ll learn ‘em.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> Zed threw Malthus’ lifeless body to
the cold, hard ground and walked away, heading towards the summit of the
Forbidden Mountain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Damn,
it’s cold up here,” Zed said to himself as he neared the peak of the mountain.
It was late in the afternoon and Zed was feeling fine. Last night’s deadly
hijinks had provided an extra jolt of confidence, and he was ready for any
thing that might come his way. Like the wrought-iron gate that materialized
right in front of him. He could have sworn it wasn’t there just a moment ago.
Zed had been scanning the area, trying to parse his next option, when out of
the corner of his eye he spied, cloistered in some trees, a gate. Well, that’s
an invitation, if I ever saw one, he thought. He sauntered up to it and mimed a
formal knock, laughing quietly to himself. Zed examined the lock; nothing too
difficult, rather ordinary, really. Zed couldn’t help but feel a little
disappointed. If it was going to be this easy, it almost wasn’t worth it. But
then he thought of the treasure, and the parchment. Zed picked the lock. A dark
corridor loomed ahead. It seemed to stretch into the mountain itself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Hmm,
no cool looking castle, but if this dude carved his fortress into a </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">mountain, I guess I’m impressed.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
entered the mountain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;">::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> After walking for a spell in total
darkness, Zed saw a light ahead. He emerged into a vast room lit by torches
lining the walls. The walls seemed to be shifting colors constantly, like a
kaleidoscope. Zed felt disoriented and maybe a little sick. At the far end of
the room was a crystal throne. In front of the throne was a shallow pool of
water. Somehow, a flame burned on its surface. Behind the throne, Zed could see
piles of gold and silver items. To his right were huge statues of exotic
beasts, many of which he had heard of, but never seen before. Zed headed
towards the treasure.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
was trying to figure out what was the most valuable item to take when he heard
a voice behind him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Who
are you to invade my sanctum sanctorum like this?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
turned around, but could see no one.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Answer
me!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m
Zed Nihil.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“No,
you’re not.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“You’re
right, I’m not. Who are you then?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“I
am either your death, or your salvation.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">A
man appeared out of thin air, shimmering into existence. Zed had seen him
before.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“And
you’re no friendly merchant, are you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“No,
I am not.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“I
guess it’s time to fight then, huh?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“As
you wish.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">They
circled each other, unarmed. Zed shot out a punch. The man easily avoided it.
Zed feinted to the left and kicked at the man’s knee. The man sidestepped. Zed
dropped to the ground and tried a leg sweep. The man jumped over it. Zed came
up with a flathand attack at the man’s chest, but was really going for an
armlock. Finally grabbing flesh, he locked down on the man’s forearm. The man
slid his arm out as if it were greased. Zed took a few steps back.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“What
the fuck?!?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Frustrated,
my friend?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Not
anymore, mister.” Zed unsheathed his dagger and stepped forward. He brought the
blade around in a vicious arc towards the man’s unprotected throat. Inches away
from contact the dagger crumbled to dust in Zed’s hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Unholy
shit! What was that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Do
you not remember who sold you that dagger, my friend? I made it. It does as I
please. Now, let us end this farce.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">With
inhuman speed, the man slapped Zed in the face. The slap sent Zed reeling.
Before he could recover the man had engaged him in an unbreakable chokehold.
Zed wheezed his discontent.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Nothing
witty to say? Catgut your tongue? Good. For now you will listen. You have two
choices, thief. I can kill you in an even more gruesome manner than you killed
poor Malthus, or………Yes, I see your eyes get bigger. Malthus was one of mine. I
sent him and Errance after you as a test. In fact, the entire town of
Footsville, including the lovely barmaid you had your eyes on, is a construct
of mine. Rather pleasant, wouldn’t you agree?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
tried in vain to suck in a fistful of air.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“As
I was saying; you have two choices. One, I shred your soul in my chamber of
horrors, or, two, I train you to perform a very important task for me. What say
you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">The
man let go of Zed’s neck.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Ahuuuuhhhuuuhhhhh…….koff…..acccchkkkk..huhugguuhhg….gu-gu-gimme
a second here.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Of course.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “I think I’ll take door number
two.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"> “Very well then. Your training
begins now. First, you need a name. And do not tell me that you have a name. I
know of your past. I know that you do not have a name, were never given one. I
know that you were found in a wood by a group of Jipsies, abandoned to die by
your birthparents. No, I do not know who they were. You will never know who
they were. It is your curse and your blessing. I know that these Jipsies raised
you in a roundabout way, almost like a favorite pet. They never named you
because they could see your destiny. I know that you left them at the age of 7,
and made your way into the world. You taught yourself stealthiness, quickness,
strength and cunning. You became the greatest thief in the land, but worked for
no one but yourself. You gave yourself ridiculous names as a private joke to
yourself. Zed Nihil, Seero Void, Cypher Nix and so on. You believe in nothing
except for yourself, as it should be. I would have you believe in one more
thing, but we will get to that. First, you must have a name. A truename.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
cleared his throat. “Well, y’see, the thing is, I kinda like my names. They’re
not just jokes; they’re poetry, like my thoughts, like my movements. Can you
dig that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“I
understand, but for the power you will be wielding, you need something more.
Can you dig that, my friend?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah,
I guess I can.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Do
you still possess that slip of parchment I gave you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah,
and I didn’t even wipe my ass with it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“How
fortunate. Take it out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
pulled the scrunched up paper from his pocket.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">“Unfold
it and you will see your truename.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">Zed
unfolded the parchment. In a strange script, as if burned into the parchment, a
name appeared: <span style="font-family: "Matura MT Script Capitals";">ASRAH</span><span style="font-family: Herculanum;">.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Herculanum; font-size: large;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“It says:
Asrah.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes,
that is your name.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Hmmm,
I kinda like it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good.
Now the hard part begins.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Wait,
what’s your name?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
may call me Master.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
gotta million jokes for that one, but I’ll keep them to myself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
learn fast, my friend.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Over
the course of the next several months, Asrah experienced a complete rebirth. He
bathed in the pool with the flame flickering atop. At first, it burned, but
eventually this subsided and it soothed him each time he entered its waters.
The Master ritually cleaned him with a blade of silver. He traced invisible
lines over Asrah’s body for hours every day. The Master administered an enema
of dragon’s blood. This produced a flow of waste that poured from Asrah’s body
in foul torrents. Asrah was amazed at the poisons that had been coursing
through his body. These poisons, both physical and ethereal, were also expunged
with rigorous martial training. Asrah thought he had known how to fight, but he
realized he was a clumsy ape compared to his Master. The Master revealed
astonishing powers of the mind and of nature to Asrah. He taught him how to
truly see, to see with his entire body, his mind, his wandering spirit. He
taught him how to kill with a touch, with a thought, with a breath. He taught
him how to gather information from the wind, from the rocks, from the trees. He
taught him many wondrous things. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">And then he told him why.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Asrah,
you are nearing the completion of your training. Despite my trepidation, you
have proven to be an astute and capable student. How do you respond?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>____</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Excellent.
You have learned well. Now I will tell you of my purpose in training you, and
your purpose in existing.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
Master closed his eyes. They sat in the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">zenzat</i>
position, just inches apart, their knees nearly touching.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Of
course, you remember the parchment that brought you here. You remember what it
said. That there are Ascended Masters. That these Masters control the world.
Most believe them a myth. They are quite real. They do control the world. And
they are evil. And powerful. And they must be destroyed. They reside in a
mountain not unlike this one. Far up in the clouds, at the top of the world.
They number eight, and they sit at their table and they run the world. They
have cast this world into darkness with their ruthless scheming. They do not
care for the average man. They believe that they are gods. They believe that
they are immortal. They are not gods. They are not immortal. They can be
killed. And you, my friend, will kill them. This is why I have trained you. To
kill them. To kill the Masters of the World. What say you?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Why
can you not kill them, Master?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Because
they have cast ancient spells against me. These spells prevent me from entering
their mountain. There is a web of energy that bars me. Despite my power, I
cannot penetrate it. But you, my friend, they do not know of you; their spells
will not affect you. You are an unknown anomaly. You are their death. You are
my sword. I will strike them down through you. This is your destiny.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
accept my destiny.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Good.
I have crafted these weapons for you.” Master presented a cloth before them. He
unfolded the cloth. There lay eight small throwing daggers, gleaming in the
firelight. “These daggers were forged from a substance not native to this
dimension. I traversed many dangerous realities to procure it. This alien
metal, named <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">aluminum</i>, is the only
way to kill the Masters.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“When
do I depart?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Ah
yes, eagerness. A wonderful attribute, my friend. Soon, very soon.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Asrah prepared himself for this mission.
His old life of wine, women, song and thievery seemed like a half-remembered
dream. Now, he felt as if he had a purpose. The Master had been good to him.
Yes, very good.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“The time has come, Asrah. You are
ready. Destiny awaits you with open arms. Go to her like a lover. Ride the
astral winds to the clouded mountain. Destroy the Ascended Masters. Kill them
in the name of humanity. Go!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Asrah
floated around the base of the mountain. It was perfectly smooth, as if it had
been sanded by the hand of God. The landscape around it seemed to stretch out
into infinity. It was completely barren; Asrah felt an affinity with it. It was
time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Asrah
circled the mountain, searching for the slightest crack or fissure through which
he could gain entry. Finally, after several hours, he found one. Condensing
himself into a form smaller than an atom, he entered the mountain. He found the
inner sanctum and reverted to human form.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Asrah
hung from the ceiling of the vast room like a fly. Below him lay the Masters.
They were seated around a massive table. In the center of the table was
a luminescent silver globe. It pulsed like as if alive. The Masters were
unaware of him. Their eyes were closed in concentration. Asrah could feel the
waves of psychic power crisscrossing the room. He could not grasp its language,
but he knew that the Masters were focusing their energies on the globe. They
were in deep meditation, communicating telepathically, manipulating events
thousands of miles away. Each one of their bald heads shone with an eerie
light. Their skin looked like marble, smoothed over countless centuries. Now
was the moment to strike.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"> In front of Asrah floated the eight
daggers. He willed them towards their targets. Without a sound, the daggers
flew through the air and embedded themselves, in perfect synchronicity, into
the throats of each Master. Their bodies slumped forward. They were dead. The
psychic energies ceased to move around the room. A strange mist, like steam,
began to rise from each of their bodies. They were disintegrating. But the
globe continued to pulse.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Asrah walked around the table, watching
as the Masters’ bodies dissipated. He felt a familiar presence in the room.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
have succeeded, my friend! The heavens quake at your daring!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“Master.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“Yes, now the power is ours! We shall
rule this world as if we were gods!”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“No, Master. I think not.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“Do not forget, my friend, that you are
the pupil, and I am the Master. You have done what I have always desired, but
was not able to accomplish. You will be well rewarded.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“Master, I see nine chairs around this
table. Yet, only eight Masters. You are the ninth Master. You were cast out.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">“I <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">left</i>
because these fools could not see their true potential. We can control not only
the world, but countless other dimensions. Do you not see? This silver globe
holds the essences of every Master that has ever existed. We can harness its
power. You and I can rule for all of eternity! Come, my student, take my hand
and leap into infinity.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">The Master extended his hand.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No,
my friend, I will not take your hand. I will kill you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Do
not make me laugh! I have taught you much, but not everything. You are not as
powerful as you conceptualize.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“I
do not need power. I have this.” Asrah pulled a dagger from his belt.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Remember
this? You made it. I collected its dust. And now it will unmake you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
dagger leapt from Asrah’s hand and flew at the Master’s throat. For the first
time in millennia, surprise registered across the Master’s face. It became his
deathmask.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Asrah
willed the globe to him. It floated in front of him, whispering the secrets of
the cosmos in his ear like a lover. The globe begged him to take its power, to
charge across reality wielding it like a true warrior. Eternity opened before
him like a book. He could read all of its arcane secrets; no thing was unknown.
He could possess the power of a god, of all the gods, of God. Asrah drew back
his will. The globe fell to the floor and shattered into a million tiny pieces,
like miniature stars exploding across the universe.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Zed
laughed and walked out of the mountain.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large; mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: xx-small; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-56349719793594370872013-05-09T16:57:00.000-07:002013-05-09T16:59:46.763-07:00FAMILY CURSE May tour<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPI5ApXpSsbH-l4rv0AhyphenhyphenAhyphenhyphenR06Q8aufOBDztZreb_r2_UyabXRI6N2GOwAE3-vgQ8GdOGY9SO4lRj3wu_A8DOcrrD0mnim_9dTjuBIWTSXKH_F5g5tPNvbMyNNdjdHFx1sxC3ONFeq_ho/s1600/FamilyCursetourposter.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPI5ApXpSsbH-l4rv0AhyphenhyphenAhyphenhyphenR06Q8aufOBDztZreb_r2_UyabXRI6N2GOwAE3-vgQ8GdOGY9SO4lRj3wu_A8DOcrrD0mnim_9dTjuBIWTSXKH_F5g5tPNvbMyNNdjdHFx1sxC3ONFeq_ho/s320/FamilyCursetourposter.png" width="207" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Satyrday May 25th > BROOKLYN @ The Gutter w/ Pampers + Summer Saints<br />
<br />
Sunday May 26th > PITTSBURGH @ Gooski's w/ Chest + Crazy Scorpion Group + Frizz<br />
<br />
Monday May 27th > CLEVELAND @ The Black Eye w/ Obnox + Short Rabbits <br />
<br />
Tuesday
May 28th > COLUMBUS @ Cafe Bourbon St. w/ Weird Science + Fake Surfers (Detroit) + 1 more TBA<br />
<br />
Wednesday May 29th > CLEVELAND @ The Happy Dog w/ Murderedman + Wooden Indian Burial Ground (Portland) <br />
<br />
Thursday May 30th > DETROIT @ The Garden Bowl w/ The Intended + Law$uits + Fake Surfers <b>FREE</b> <br />
<br />
Friday
May 31st > TORONTO @ Double Double Land w/ Wrong Hole + Surinam <br />
<br />
Satyrday June 1st > MONTREAL @ Drones Club w/ Ultrathin + Paradise<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-33749764609789239272013-02-19T16:36:00.000-08:002013-06-09T02:25:56.348-07:00FAMILY CURSE - Twilight Language <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tqatWFJwdwqUjUjQ_26KOEpb_OX1WACTorc362ZkCNJvGnmDljOLQzGnMgOuZdfk-DHufvc1Vydx1GBJH_EHGbVuMpOx0BXl61qNxXxfOutIDRpJVe5e9gCvK9bxuSQCha32pvX8tZQ5/s1600/safe_image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-tqatWFJwdwqUjUjQ_26KOEpb_OX1WACTorc362ZkCNJvGnmDljOLQzGnMgOuZdfk-DHufvc1Vydx1GBJH_EHGbVuMpOx0BXl61qNxXxfOutIDRpJVe5e9gCvK9bxuSQCha32pvX8tZQ5/s1600/safe_image.jpg" /></a></div>
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<br />
1-2-Hex on you. Cross your fingers, throw salt, knock wood, say a little
prayer, run like hell. You cannot escape the Curse. You cannot escape your
blood. Family Curse.<br />
<br />
Hypnotic art-punk. Psychedelic without being "psych." Throbbing
rhythms. Can a melody be "brutal"? Doom Pop at its finest. Songs
about decay, the Old World, war, disease, love and murder. Family Curse leave
the beachheads in the sun, content to bask in their own mundane existence.
Family Curse believes in the power of the song, that there is still meaning and
worth left in metaphor, melody, and message. Family Curse places their trust in
the intrinsic mystery of the unseen world. In the shadows, that is where the
quest for answers must begin. <br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Twilight Language</span></i> concerns itself
with the breakdown of modern communication via a glimpse at a world that on the
surface seems far removed from our own, part of a distant past, but in fact was
merely only a century ago. Or is it now? Time bends back upon itself.<br />
<br />
The <i><span style="font-family: Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">motorik</span></i> punk of "No
Return" opens the album by heading towards the white light. Is it a train?
Or the end as beginning? "Julia Armant" is revived from the debut
single, here treated with hand-claps and even more of a resonating ache.
"Truth Will Out" is avant-hardcore at its finest; two minutes of
frantic flail, singer Erick Bradshaw H excoriating his demons and guitars
radiating all manner of face-melting noises. "Arcane Radio" is a
dance hit from an alternate past, one filled with imagination and adventure. It
ends on a bitter note however, innocence lost and thrown in the trash.
"Zig Zag/Dead Drop" closes the side with a trance-inducing tale of
espionage, betrayal and murder. The music moves as if under a heavy fog of
confusion and dread. The spaghetti western touches conclude a dramatic tale.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Side Two comes at you with a cynical sneer and a knife hidden behind its back;
"NY NY NY" is a sarcastic stab at Family Curse's hometown, which
happens to be one of the biggest, greatest and most frustrating cities in the
entire world. We only hurt you cuz we love you, baby. This song refers back to
late '70s New York punk, obsessed and repulsed by the city of its birth. The
dirty streets of Manhattan replaced by the boring streets of Brooklyn.
"Memory Sickness" recalls forgotten masters of socially-aware
post-hardcore like Gray Matter and The Proletariat. It's noisy, jagged, and
oppressive, but does not forsake a haunting melody and memorable chorus. "Trench
Warfare" is a nasty tune; pounding, angular rhythms, courtesy of drummer
Chris Kulcsar and bassist Joe Santa Ana Maria, are serrated by Ken Edge's
Albini-worthy guitar-slash while Bradshaw's vein-bursting vocals are trapped in
the muck and guts of the trenches of WWI. No one gets out alive. "Ex Flame
Expressions" is unabashedly about the fairer sex, that is to say, the
other sex; the one you are not. Bitterness can be its own power, might as well
own it. Final track "Scorched Earth Policy" is a Cormac
McCarthy-inspired anthem for all of the bandits, marauders and roving killers
that made this country "great." America was born in blood and turmoil,
and not much has changed. The difference is, now we are aware of traumatic
events quicker and in more detail than at any point in our history. Twilight
language.</div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sounds</b>: <a href="http://familycurse.bandcamp.com/">http://familycurse.bandcamp.com/</a> </div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sights</b>: video for
“Zig Zag/Dead Drop” - <a href="http://vimeo.com/63632087">http://vimeo.com/63632087</a>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>video for “Julia Armant” -<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a href="http://vimeo.com/25529623">http://vimeo.com/25529623</a>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Articles</b>:</div>
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<a href="http://www.vol1brooklyn.com/2013/03/21/band-booking-deciphering-twilight-language-with-family-curse/">http://www.vol1brooklyn.com/2013/03/21/band-booking-deciphering-twilight-language-with-family-curse/</a>
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<a href="http://noisey.vice.com/fr/blog/adult-problems-dont-fear-the-reaper-with-family-curses-new-album-twilight-language">http://noisey.vice.com/fr/blog/adult-problems-dont-fear-the-reaper-with-family-curses-new-album-twilight-language</a>
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<a href="http://blogs.villagevoice.com/music/2012/08/family_curse_interview.php">http://blogs.villagevoice.com/music/2012/08/family_curse_interview.php</a>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Reviews:</b></div>
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YellowGreenRed: “driving, thoughtful punk rock - Naked
Raygun with a Wire fascination - his is what punk rock sounds like when kids
grow old without growing out of touch”</div>
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Roctober: “Family Curse offers some profanely, nasty punk”</div>
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Suburban Voice: “hard-edged post-punk rock”</div>
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Sorry State: “like they could have come right from <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This Nation's Saving Grace</i>-era Fall -
relentlessly catchy” </div>
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Terminal Boredom: “In the best way, this doesn’t sound like
it’s from Brooklyn. To lean on the crutch of trite comparisons, imagine Rikk
Agnew’s mom replaced his steady diet of bacon grease and donuts or whatever for
Monorchid records”</div>
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The Wire “Size Matters” Byron Coley: “choppy and loud in the
manner of 100 Flowers or Mission of Burma”</div>
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Maximumrocknroll:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Thick, meaty post-punk with snaking basslines, almost funk-punk
guitars, and barked vocals. Shards of Yummy Fur or The Birthday Party make
their way thought the high-volume attack.”</div>
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Further info and social media:</div>
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<a href="http://www.family-curse.com/">http://www.family-curse.com/</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/family.curse">http://www.facebook.com/family.curse</a></div>
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Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7824952780876631601.post-31653180559670853932013-01-29T11:47:00.000-08:002013-01-29T11:47:07.837-08:00YO! BUM RUSH THE SHOW<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Debut gig of new noise duo @ Public Assembly, Brooklyn NY.<br />
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Martin Luther King Day 2013.<br />
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<a href="http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?6e2ki0y27c2yfzk" target="_blank">http://www.mediafire.com/download.php?6e2ki0y27c2yfzk</a></div>
Erick Bradshaw Hhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01692137391304365167noreply@blogger.com0