Your Future Dreams. Basically, I will spend five minutes a day predicting what you will dream about that night and then crudely render that dream in an illustrated form. You may find this hard to believe, but I have not drawn a single image since high school (and that was decades ago). So behold as I reveal the dreams that lie in store for you. And thanks to those you actually used to read this thing. I'm sure I'll never hear from you again.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Not dead yet...just biding my time
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 9:10 PM 33 comments:
Labels: awaiting the glorious return
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Pete Cosey-Thank Your Motherfucking Ass
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 10:30 PM 4 comments:
Cardiac Arrest-A Bus for a Bus on the Bus 7"
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 8:38 PM 7 comments:
Labels: cardiacs, post-everything, schizo
Reups are to commence...now leave me the fuck alone
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 2:44 PM 5 comments:
Friday, June 1, 2012
John Buck Wilkin-In Search of Food, Clothing, and Sex
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 1:04 AM 8 comments:
Labels: long forgotten, psych, the essentials
The Triffids-Peel Sessions
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:58 AM 1 comment:
Labels: aussie, cult, underrated
Mary Lou Williams-Black Christ of the Andes
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:50 AM 5 comments:
Labels: Jazz, pittsburgh, religious but not annoying, spiritual
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:31 AM 2 comments:
Labels: depressing, jazzy, nocturnal
De Brassers-En Toen Was Er Niets Meer 7"
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:23 AM 1 comment:
Bergen White-For Women Only
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:14 AM 1 comment:
Labels: no dicks allowed, soft pop
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Stomu Yamash'ta-Red Buddha
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 11:56 PM 2 comments:
Labels: japan, percussion, psych, vanguard
Th'Inbred-A Family Affair
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 11:46 PM 2 comments:
Labels: punk, ugly hicks, west virginia
We Got a Fuzzbox and We're Gonna Use it-Bostin' Steve Austin
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 11:35 PM 5 comments:
Foreign Press-Downpour 12" & Climbing 7"
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 11:19 PM 1 comment:
Violent Students-S/T & Street Banger E.P.
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 11:09 PM No comments:
Labels: brutal, clockcleaner, punk
Toiling Midgets-Sea of Unrest
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 10:52 PM 2 comments:
Labels: flipper, negative trend, Post Punk, ricky williams
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 10:44 PM No comments:
Labels: folky, john cale, psych, the outsiders
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Zippo Zetterlink-In the Poor Sun
Hard to find Krautrock gem that laid hidden under the detritus for far too long. Typically, archeological digs of this sort turn up petrified shit, yet those fossil feces always seem to get a reissue and a buncha hype. I cannot even list how many “lost classics” are just garbage that settled on the bottom and should have been left there. Just because it’s old doesn’t mean it’s good. It just means that it’s better than the crap that currently exists. When looking at that “long lost” ratio it’s obviously that you’re looking at something akin to a batting average of a hitter with two broken wrists. Good think this album is actually worth the effort. Zooed out heavy vibes that seem to seep out of a dank Hamburg cellar. Naturlich, this was self-released effort.
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:47 PM 3 comments:
Zal Yanovsky-Alive and Well in Argentina
I do truly love the Lovin’ Spoonful, but I’ll admit that hearing that fucking “Welcome Back Kotter” theme song really makes me never want to listen to John Sebastian again. But I never really thought he was what the Spoonful was about anyways because the band was full of so much talent. Here’s just one example of someone branching out from the group but not really getting the credit he deserves. It’s a musically diverse affair to which Yanovsky brings his typically great guitar playing and oddball sense of whimsy and humor. For some reason this also seems kind of hard for me to locate when searching for copies. What gives? I thought this would be clogging the dollar bins with all the other Spoonful stuff. And unless you’re a dummy you’ve already bought all of those. Add this to the collection as well. And mail me copies of a sealed original.
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:39 PM 3 comments:
Labels: forest fluting, guitarist supreme, lovin' spoonful
X-Live at the Civic '79
Years ago before this blog was long in the tooth, I asked an old buddy if there was anything he thought I should post. Seeing as I had no clue about what the kids are into (still don’t care really), I thought it might be useful to talk to someone, unlike me, who talks to other things besides his cat. And this was one of his suggestions. I’m guessing that the rise of that current crop of Aussie bands makes this a seminal document (I’m only starting to discover all these newish bands that are actually worth listening to and feel stupid for having ignored them for so long). The Saints, the Birthday Party, Lubricated Goat, the Scientists, Radio Birdman, etc. probably all get a bit more press than these fellas but they are just as essential. Good call Ryan.
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:37 PM 2 comments:
Labels: aussie, not the band from L.A., punk
Wolfie-Awful Mess Mystery
Might catch some shit for this one, but I could give a fig. I loved this when it came out and I still stand by it. Sure it’s cutesy and the vocals can be cloying but it is a fun summer record that’s the perfect length (probably less than half an hour). I have this dreadful feeling that this summer will be unbearably hot (anything about 75 is too hot for me) so I figure I might as well roll out the summer tunes before it starts to really blaze. I hate to be so superficial and give bonus points for cute band members and all, but I seem to recall their keyboard player/co-singer as being quite a doll. Shit, I’m shallow. Anyways, this is for the people in the mood for good pop. And there ain’t nutthin’ wrong with that.
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:35 PM 2 comments:
Labels: cute, pop, summertime goodness
Larry Wallis-Polic Car b/w On Parole 7"
One of the all-time coolest, hands down. Shagrat, Pink Fairies, Blodwyn Pig, UFO, Motorhead—all names you should know and love. Later period work with the Redbyrds and solo are equally as vital, so don’t let some idiot tell you otherwise. Just about anything this guy’s guitar has graced is worth owning. Psych, punk, metal and everything in between all fall under this guy’s purview. One of the most important guitarists in the last fifty years. You should know this man. If not, time to wise up boyo.
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:33 PM 4 comments:
Labels: guitar god, motorhead, pink fairies, proto punk, shagrat
Thug-Electric Woolly Mammoth
I see thugs every day. Like my students who get “misunderstood” tattooed on their forearm. Or “laugh now, cry later” on their biceps. And you have to love the ubiquitous angel tattoo on the neck (with someone’s birth/death dates, of course). These are my students. I don’t judge. I have tattoos too. But I know some of these kids live the real thug life. Hell, I’ve even had a few offer to beat people up for me or get me some stolen goods. This isn’t that type of thug, although there is a certain sense of brutality to some of their sounds. It’s another Australian gem. Everything I’ve read about this band (which is not all that much) seems to mention the same three bands as points of comparison. Let’s just say that seem extra Lay Zee. And I should know since I’m quite a lazy sod these days. If you want to know who those three bands are I suppose you can let your fingers do the walking and find out on your own. I think it’s better even yet to just give it a listen. And I don’t really think any of those comparisons are that accurate anyways. People, how many things actually sound like Captain Beefheart?
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:31 PM No comments:
Old bands reuniting are always a dicey endeavor. I’m sure that nearly everyone has been burned by the dream reunion of that band you were a little too young to see at the time and have fetishized to the point that you even considered getting a tattoo of their logo somewhere on your person. Then you see the show. You see how they look like a bunch of balding dads. You rejoice that you didn’t get that tattoo while simultaneously wondering if your favorite group had been replaced by team pinch hitting from the geriatrics ward. This happens far too often as bands never seem to learn that reunions are undoubtedly a risky move that often fails to deliver. Unless you’re talking about delivering some grimaces, which, in that case, some of these bands are hauling a truckload. So what does this all say about this reunion disc. Can it possibly live up to the accolades bestowed upon their landmark Marquee Moon? Can it capture all their intensity of those early bootlegs? No. No to both. But that doesn’t mean that this album, which too often gets sneered at, doesn’t have its attractive qualities. It might be a bit sere and academic at times. I’ll grant the complainers that much, but when considering how badly this could have gone we should just be thankful that we have one more Television album to add to their slim catalog.
Posted by Jerry Orbach at 12:30 PM No comments:
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