Sunday, August 28, 2011

Duncan Browne-Give Me Take You

Well, this album could pretty much be the title of my autobiography. Pretty strange considering that I've been known to be quite the bastard. Yet as I get older and begin selecting songs for my funeral (don't have a funeral please) I find that I am somehow nicer than I have ever been in the past. I have no idea how that happened. Oh, and if you are going to have a funeral for me, rather than just pissing on my corpse, play Valuska by Michaly Vig (I guess I'll be dead so the pissing won't really matter anyways). But back to the point. I should be hitting kids on the head with my cane, instead I have bunch of people relying on me to move shit for them and drive them places and act as a general caddy for their lives. And I can't figure out how I made this switch from a total dick to a guy who does all these nice things. Maybe it's some fucked up arc that my life has taken. Maybe the path was already established but I was too fucked up to see it clearly. I'm not too sure how comfortable I am in the ole of the responsible nice guy. Right now, I can only see how this help others and makes me feel like shit. And I guess that experience is more common that I believed. Listening to this album there's certainly a whimsical (Naive?) feeling that hippies of the time relished in. Now, it sounds deflated and worrisome. But that might just be the fact that my ears have a muffle woven through years of disappointment. Okay, I guess now the boozing is starting to become evident in the writing.

Here

Schizo

So I believe that this is the complete works of Schizo, but somewhere along the line, I noticed that a track had dropped out. Don't know where it is either, and I'm way to lazy to try to fix this mess. So if you like Richard Pinhas or Heldon this is a no brainer since he's laying down the guitar on these 7"s. Or if you're like me and have a Hawkwind fetish, then you'll most likely want these too since a mountain of Hawkwind bootlegs still leaves more to be desired. Really, this will surprise some in how much it actually sounds like Hawkwind. That is a GOOD thing people, as if I needed to explain that.

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The Secret Syde-Hidden Secrets

The connection between psychedelic punks and later day punks is a fairly clear linear movement. But most people don't think of their beloved punk records as being psychedelic and that is often more of a socio-historical understanding of the evolutions of genres. But here was a band that clearly demonstrated a love for classic psych while simultaneously being able to play the same stage as Black Flag. Forgive them for being from Jersey. There actually was a time when great things came from that state. I suppose that notion sounds as antique as these recordings. But I am still on the lookout for a mission oak coat rack and a nice art nouveau floor lamp too, so who am I to criticize antiques.

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Superunit

Don't let the picture fool you. I just couldn't find an actual photo of this 12" so I assumed this one would do. The Superunit here (not the addition of the R) is actually Zeni Geva with Steve Albini. I've posted stuff by both of them in the past so readers should already know what's up. Fans of either will want this one since it really doesn't sound like either. Unfortunately, two tracks are all you're going to get.

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Magnog

I seemed to remember thinking at the time of its release that this sucked pretty hard. But pretty much anything that came out on Kranky I disapprovingly have the gas mask to. Is it that I've softened somehow in my old age, or is it that the biases that prevented me from truly loving a band like the Rolling Stones were still in place. Don't misunderstand, these guys are nothing like the Stones, but I'm getting at the fact that I lived with all these weird prejudices about how music should be (Hi old punks), and in the process, ignored plenty of good things along the way. This has all been previously written about, but it bears reiteration in that this is a great space rock band that so many now wish they could sound like. Either forget that they exist and continue to believe that so many of the "cutting edge" bands are as great as some media outlets/dick sucking machines will lead you to believe, or give the guys the cred they didn't receive by old shits like me.

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Nekropolis-Musik aus dem Schattenreich

NOT METAL. Don't let that pile of skulls fool you. This is not a metal album people. I know some of my friends who read this think that I'm going to keep pressing them on why they should listen to metal. I'm not doing that here. I can tell who has enough of a sack to listen to some throat shredding and who would rather listen to Sufjan Stevans. So this is not a ploy. Despite its cover and its name, this is actually some weird ambient, synthy, kautish, dark space explorations that are really a great late night listen. Friends, I promise that you can actually fall asleep to this album. But it might be a little difficult only in that it really is captivating. Definitely not new age. Or metal.

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Eyeless in Gaza-Photographs as Memories

First album by a band that I always have a really fucking hard time describing. I am certain that somewhere there's a lone scribe tirelessly compiling the definitive history of this band. I have no idea if there's enough dramatics to make it a worth read, but I would definitely like some insight into how these two came up with their sound. It has that cassette d.i.y. sound, but it's also less punk and more croony. Shit description, I am aware, but really, aside from the fact that it sounds 80ish and lo fi, it's a little hard to describe. It does seem to fit with a lot of those British bedroom bands of the time, but then Bates lays his vocal histrionics over the whole thing and it starts becoming something else altogether. Maybe like the non-slick version of ABC or something. Anyways, they change up the sounds quite a bit as they went on (check the Martyn Bates album previously posted for further evidence) but, you know, there's the whole first thought best thought principle to consider.

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Del the Funky Homosapien-I Wish my Brother George was Here

All of my students want to listen to rap only. And no, I don't teach at some posh suburban school full of wigger frat boy types. I had years of that already. Now I teach brown children how to to speak white. It's true I am Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Minds (nice try Scott but that joke has been used plenty already). I even have a leather jacket. So I have students who have to wear ankle bracelets and are actually tough kids; and what do they want to listen to you might ask. Oh, how about Drake (look him up, I had to). All these kids listen to rap and know nothing about anything that is over a few months old. I don't get it at all. They ask what rap I'm into and I give them a list of things from the 80s and 90s and they have no idea what I'm talking about. Then again, their parents probably wouldn't either since I realized that I'm older than most of their parents. But for those of us with a memory beyond 20 years, let's recall this little gem. I even remember that this was a marginal hit at some point. Funny that kinds now want to hear Nickelodeon approved Canadian rappers.

Here

Lorelei-The Bitter Air 7"

So when I was living in L.A. this month I had the farcical, but true, story of having a squirrel that would break into my place and eat my chocolates. I never actually saw the squirrel in my place, but I did see it poking into my window, the holes it left in the window screen, the gnawed bars of chocolate it left on the floor, and the piles of shit it left on my desk. So I feel pretty safe in assuming it was that fucking squirrel that was eating my chocolate. And I just thought the whole thing was a bit cute. Like this album. Don't worry, this one won't unload atop your papers or anything, but it will make you smile when those days seem longer than ever possible. This might be a little too cutesy for some but I don't care. When your insides are tar black, do you really need more of that coming in your ear holes?

Here

State Children-Bomb Shelter for Moneymaking! 7"

What a fucking brilliant mess this weirdo flexi is. Hard as shit to find pre-internet days, this mutato was destined to be a holy grail like record. I think most people can pick up instruments, having never played them, and instantly record this album verbatim. But guess what? You didn't do it, so don't cry that it's primitive and retarded and only a few minutes long. You're the same fucker who looks at a Rothko and says "I can do that" aren't you? You can probably also write The Sun Also Rises too, huh?

Here

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Andrew-Woops

This cover just screams Iceland, doesn't it? Not that there's some geographical point of reference we'd all pick up on. But shit, this homemade good vs. evil heavy handed conflict just seems so daft that it must be Icelandic. Not to sound mean but don't you all actually believe in elves and shit like that still? I still give Andrew credit though. I like the name. And I love the album title. Kinda sums up the whole life experience in a rather succinct way. This album is all over the place like many albums of its time. And I kinda like it more for that reason. I am petty sure this was the work of some dude with money/time/sadness on his hands. At least, that's what I want to believe is the case. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Here

The Screamin' Mee-Mees-Live From the Basement: 1975-1997

Lead track, "Hot Sody" was about the most appropriate track to play when I finally arrived in my new Kansas City home as the ambient temperature was approaching 114. It was hot. India hot. Add 90% humidity as you've got a crabby, sweaty bastard that doesn't feel like moving fuck all after driving down from Chicago. But the new place is lovely and I really love this city. The state itself might be a different story however. Lots of bibles and guns. But then I'm reminded of these miscreants from St. Louis and I smile. Dumbo antics in that way that we all like. Naif and fun and reckless. All the things we forget about as our eyebrows grow long enough to hang in our eyes (I've got eyebrows that are straight out of Dune). Even when they got old they still ruled. That might scare me a little more than the fact that corporal punishment is still legal here and that conceal and carry is something people take as a point of pride.

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Raspberry Bulbs-Finally Burst

I love Bone Awl, so I was really excited to hear about this side project all that time ago. But shit gets hectic and posting goes to the wayside. And during that interregnum this cassette only seemed to charm its way into my heart like some nasty little parasitic worm. Speaking of weird shit of the sort, I think I'm still coughing up mold from my last place. Fucked lungs aside, this is a great piece of metal that really isn't metal. Change the vocals and the fan base increased by tens. I'm just being realistic here. This isn't some bullshit pop, but it still could have a greater fan base than most things of the sort.

Here

Servile Sect-Stratospheric Passenger

Some guy (?) with a rather large set laid down some heavy suggestions that I might in fact be a secret hipster. Or maybe he was saying that it's not so secret since he was able to sleuth it out. Tis neither here nor there. People, think of me as you will. Most tend to see me as a massive asshole. This assertion is probably correct 96% percent of the time so I'm not going to argue that. Then again, there was another incident that someone unknown to me asked if I was sad (why do people keep doing this?) so maybe I seem more like some weepy sap. But back to that main point. I know when I post albums like this, it lends credence to the charge of hipsterism. But fuck that. It's good and if that's how I'm going to be seen then I'll just wave my whatever those stupid middle-east looking scarves dudes wear now at you and dry my tears with pages from the latest McSweeny's (do people still read that?). I guess if people really need to know, I'm probably a bit old and definitely too much of a loser to be classed as hip or a hipster. Hope that helps.

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The Reflections-Slugs and Toads

Some long, long time ago a gent inquired of whether or not I was interested in the peripheral work of Karl Blake (see past post). Of course, I responded, I love all that the man is associated with. But consider how much the love increases when he is joined yby the might Mark Perry (ATV) and cronies from the Door & the Window. Not kidding, but I just bought a jar of marmite and some powdered mustard today. Now I'll just flounce around and speak in my faux British accent and make all the ladies swoon. Or just eat some marmite and toast in my underwear while my cat looks at me with an underwhelming sense of hopelessness.

Here

Cecil Taylor-Chinampas

Don't even try to fucking deny it you little maggot. This guy is THE guy when it comes to full on piano brilliance. The discussion ends there. So why he decided to make this album of out there sound poetry might not make all that much sense. But once you give it a listen then all is revealed. Yamataka Eye dry humping Kurt Schwitters while some guy jerking it in the corner occasionally hits a bell or a wood block or just stares at a fly kind seems like what's going on here. Doesn't sound like your cup of tea? Then darling you've come to the wrong place to fill your cup. The rest may drink up.

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S.F. Seals-Truth Walks in Sleepy Shadows

You're really going to open the album with a Pretty Things cover? And you're gonna add some horns and synths and a buncha other sounds? Huh...I guess that's a little weird. What's that? There's a John Cale tune too? That's cool. But what about your own stuff? I mean, it's great and dark and weird and poppy and really has a lot going for it. Oh shit, I completely forgot that you were forgotten way back in the 90s when no one really seemed to care about things like that. Oh well, I guess I probably shouldn't have brought this up. Too bad though. I always thought you had some pretty swell songs.

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Aqsak Maboul-Un Peu de l'Âme des Bandits

I'm a lover of weirdo combinations that don't seem to make sense when explained to me. Those moments when you finally hear the tracks and the descriptions your friends were trying to convince you about finally make sense are truly scared moments. But I guess that's all a bit of a teaser since I don't really plan on describing this one. I will say this, however. Moments of this seem right for a weirdly drugged out senior home dance where feeblemindedness and nostalgia seem to ensconce the room. And I can also some someone sniffing glue to this and really laughing at how disconnected his/her hand seems from the rest of his/her body. You ever do that? Don't hands sometimes seem like such a weird thing? Like it's not even part of you but some odd appendage that is almost separate from your body.

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Paperclip People

Since I got school supplies on the mind, this seems like a logical item to post. Unless you know of some bands dealing with pencil sharpeners or something (please tell me that you do (or please send a pencil sharpener since my kids need one of those too)). Anyways, I've got a friend who really hates the whole dubstep thing. Personally, I'm about as ambivalent about the whole thing as I am about fabric softener. It's fine if it's there, but I'm not going out of my way to find it. Maybe his concern is that it was done in a much better mode many years before. I've already posted some heroin house type of stuff (I think I did, at least) and here's more of that. Kind like if electronic bees attacked a slumbering aardvark mummy, these two tracks are hypnotic and hard to ignore. Time to get swept up in those sweet moments of distraction before the painful reality of your existence come crashing through your idle mind. Such sweet mechanical solace.

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