February 9, 2010

“Right Down the Line” by Gerry Rafferty and the importance of soft-rock [G-Rant #11 / Song Cycle #19]

Gerry Rafferty – “Baker Street” MP3
Foo Fighters – “Baker Street” MP3 

It’s going to be tough to justify this one.

I first started thinking about Gerry Rafferty when I was driving home from Boulder, Colo., recently. “Right Down the Line” came on some generic easy-listening station and I was frozen in my seat, warmed by the laid-back whiteboy grooves as if they were a hot-shot of heroin (not that I know what that’s like, but I’ve heard it’s like laying in a bed of poppies while god rubs yr temples; or is that a movie I saw?) …

Then, while I was living in Florida in the late ’90s, Foo Fighters came out with their rendition of “Baker Street.” At that time, of course, I felt the Foo’s version was a kick-ass update of the original, not remembering how powerful the source recording by Rafferty was …

Then I saw the Robert Downey Jr. flick A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints, a gritty N.Y. drama with lots of violence and a specTACular scene near the end where a cokehead is listening to Rafferty’s “Baker Street” and sarcastically giving all his money to a couple of street kids (“Go ahead; TAKE IT” he faux-insists) …

ON TOP OF THAT, I just realized “Stuck in the Middle” was co-written by none other than … GERRY RAFFERTY, as one-half of Stealer’s Wheel, a fairly obscure one-hit wonder.

So what is this all leading up to, you might wonder? Well, I’ve got a theory about this that might surprise you: I think, sooner than later, the U.S. will embrace sensitive, comforting/reassuring, understated and, most importantly, SOOTHing songwriters again, the type our parents got OFF to in the ’70s.

We’ll all start tip-toeing through the soft-rock/MOR/adult contemporary forest and learning “Time in a Bottle” / “Operator” on acoustic guitar instead of Dashboard Confessional shit-ditties and Nirvana throwaways … 

The kids will start covering tunes by Rafferty, Bread, Seals and Crofts (actually Type O Negative already covered “Summer Breeze” fairly well); whiteboy afros will come back into vogue post-At The Drive-In/Mars Volta; semi-tight jeans, moustaches and beards will be even MORE sought after by rock wanna-be douche-bags and, hopefully, the radio will be flooded by songs that don’t express apathy, misery, shame, jealousy or self-loathing …

Rather, the new songs will be full of hopefulness, the sort of life-affirming bounce we used to get from Tears For Fears, Billy Joel and “Come On Eileen.” This isn’t a prediction, but a guarantee; after the awful time a lot of us had in 2009 and the lusterless 2010 unfolding before our eyes, we’re all going to need songs that not only mean something to us but make us feel a certain way.

I’ve often complained about the loss of innocence in modern radio music, the way today’s artists hide their emotions behind a metric-ton of sarcasm/innuendo/artificiality in order to not be criticized by a listening-public anathema to true expression.

Well, that’s all over. No more passive-aggressive love songs, “because I got high” novelties or fey-voiced faggots ruling the airwaves (though James Blunt really doesn’t bother me for some odd reason; in reality he’s closer to inhabiting this new genre than just about anyone).

The purification of Radio Rock is gonna happen whether you like it or not; get ready to feel sensitive! Get ready for velvet-rock/hot-tub songs and back-of-neck-tingly mellowness!

Hell, if Vampire Weekend’s songs had any lyrical meaningfulness at ALL we’d already be experiencing this new movement. Alas, they’re as afraid to write truly emotional lyrics as anyone, so the Rafferty-led trend will have to wait a few more years/months.

Just know/remember you read it HERE first, OK!? I don’t to be one of those rock historians who’s always reminding people “You know I coined the term punk-rock” and shit … Give me my due or DON’T READ MY FREE SITE. Fuckers.

February 9, 2010

Penelope wants to listen to records? Her dirtiest-yet trick … [Curiosities #36]

 

Penny, pointing the way as usual ...

Lee Hazlewood / Nancy Sinatra – “Some Velvet Morning”

I realized the other day that I’ve written scant little about being a dad and all that. I guess I always figured those blogs are boring as SHIT. I don’t read any of those blogs, is what I mean, and so I wouldn’t expect that anyone else would want to read anything I’D have to say on the subject …

Do we really need another blog that talks about changing diapers (it’s funny ’cause it’s poop!), the insecurities of being a parent (oh boo hoo, jesus) and lists of “The Best Parks in ______, Kansas”? I mean WHO GIVES A RAT’s BEHIND?

You’d think after writing the preceding two paragraphs there’s no way in HELL I’d launch into a story about my 28-month-old daughter, but that’s exactly what I’m going to do because I need to get this off my chest: 

Tonight, as I carried Penny off to bed, she unfurled the dirtiest trick she’s wielded yet: She said, “I wanna yisten to yekauds” (translation: “I wanna listen to records.”) … 

This might not seem like a big deal, but if you know me AT ALL you know it’s been the one thing I’ve been waiting for Penelope Purdum to say since she was born. Not “dada” (she said that after like 4 months), not “I love you” (she only deigns to say that to mommy, “sob”), not the lyrics to “Shout at the Devil” (though, now that I write it, that would be AWEsome), but “Daddy, I wanna listen to records.”

My problem with it is, I know Penny fairly well at this point, and she is sneaky AND manipulative when it comes to getting what she wants. She asks my wife for food when it’s bedtime, after eating PLATES of food, just to stay up a little longer while it is being prepared, for example … and that’s just the beginning.

So, in this case, I’m not sure Penny actually wanted to “Listen to yekauds” as much as she wanted to visit upon herself the benefits of getting to stay up late and scream like a banshee ‘come mornin’. That said, she picked the right way to manipulate me; I’ve been waiting for her to grow into tastes for music, art and film …

And, on the surface, she did JUST THAT tonight, and I had to take her to bed anyway because … well here’s where it gets messy. Did I really have to take her to bed?

There’s this part of me that wants her to go to bed at a normal time, live a normal life, eat normal food … then there’s this other part of me that wants to let her stay up with me (I’m a night person, so help me god), sleep crazy-ass hours and eat ice cream.

See, this turned into a SHITTY blog all of a sudden, didn’t it!? That’s what being a parent does to you. But I insist on one thing: Although I did not give into her request on this night, Penny is exposed to more music than most kids, what with thousands of records/CDs/tapes lying around and more instruments than Prince’s jamroom, so all is not lost for wee P-Lo.

So far her favorites are:

  • A kids’ song about pepperoni, sung to the tune of “Clementine” (as in “Oh mah darlin’ ” … ); these kids’ artists are NOT good songwriters. They seem to crib all their melodies from the patentless classics …
  • MatmosSupreme Balloon, with its childlike swirls of color and balloon-rising-to-the-sky imagery;
  • Any oldie; the older the better (“These Boots Were Made For Walkin’ ,” “These Eyes” by The Guess Who);
  • She actually doesn’t listen to it, but, isn’t “Some Velvet Morning” a FUCKING-AMAZING song? If you’re reading this you simply MUST click this link and listen; enchanting (indie hero/legend Lee Hazlewood + Nancy Sinatra kick up a lot of oldies dust together);
  • Anything involving Panda Bear / Animal Collective (apple never falls too far from the tree, does it?)
  • “The Longest Time” by Billy Joel … which does NOT surprise me …
  • Finally, I must say she didn’t object when I played Broken Penis Orchesta’s Testicle Difficulties (though I will NEVER show her the cover art), which means she might have a high tolerance for Residents and Negativeland … stay tuned!

Coming later this week: A review of a Ysengrynus cassette, a G-rant about Haiti, an evaluation of the Step Forward: ‘I Wanna Punk Rock,’ The Singles Collection box featuring The Fall, Models, The Cortinas, Chelsea, Sham 69 and The Lemon Kittens AND, last but not least, a full review of the above-mentioned Broken Penis Orchestra’s Testicle Difficulties.

WOW!

February 8, 2010

New Top-10 + Album of the Week #11 …

Merzbannon - "Satan's Kickin' Yr Dick In" - Tizona Records

This time my Album of the Week (#11, but who’s counting?) is a face-razing record by Racebannon + Merzbow = Merzbannon (at least that’s how I like to present the collaboration), a remix of Satan’s Kickin Yr Dick In that takes the original blast point and makes a Hiroshima hole out of it.

Don’t listen to this one in the company of friends. I wish I were kidding … Merzbannon kick it as hard as Hair Police, Double Leopards and Shit + Shine combined, reveling in a bucket crammed to the hilt with noise-warp slime.

A coveted item for sure … My Top-10 this week is tougher to explain. I guess it illustrates how little I’ve been branching out of late; other than Matmos and Masta Killah I haven’t been listening to any IDM or hip-hop at all. At ALL. 

Weird, I always made a point out of including a few hip-hop albums in my diet every week …

February 5, 2010

Various Artists – “A Prae-Kraut Pandaemonium: Volume 11″ – Lost Continence Records [Treasure Trove #11]

After the response the Michigan Brand Nuggets compilation review/mp3/download got I have no choice but to present another: A Prae-Kraut Pandaemonium Volume 11, yet another ’60s-mining collection of tunes that attempts to find life in the far pockets of the fabled private presses of the era.

Take an unparalleled look at the liner notes, which didn’t come with my used copy — fuckhole! — HERE; it’s worth it, just take a sample:

“Welcome back to the wonderous world of Germanomania. Thanks for encouraging words, praise and criticism. And, no, we’re not a bootleg label, we’re a lick myboots-label. Amen.” 

Prae-Kraut focuses on, as if you couldn’t tell, bands with supposedly proto kraut-rock leanings; that’s a bunch of horse pockey though. This is just another psych/rock/pop comp in German wolf clothing. It isn’t, however, by any stretch a bad one. It is, in fact, right up there with the Nuggets and the Pebbles, rockin’ and-a struttin’ like a rowdy drunk standing next to a jukebox that just ripped into “Smoke on the Water.”

No Deep Purple here, thank the-fuck christ. The supposed “Prae-kraut pandaemonium” scene is just as you always imagined it in your deepest nazi nightmare: very Rock, very Pop, very Fun and very German (think Hasslehoff, think Willem Dafoe [he's German, right?]).

Lots of “whoo-whoo-woo-woo”s and a ton of sincerity afoot; you just don’t find kids as willing to open up lyrically these days — without the cloak of sarcasm/gloom-as-grit/irony/etc. to cushion them — as you did back then (but of course that’s a whole ‘nother article).

Very few synths; lots of jangling … a ton of multi-layer melodies; no songs over 5 minutes … Yeah, whoever labeled this stuff a precursor to prog-rock was applying genre makeup to a face that probably seemed too familiar in light of all the Nugs from the ’60s popping up, seemingly at a higher frequency each year.

Does it really matter though, the huge groundswell of ’60s material? Good shit is good shit. Prae-Kraut has lots of good shit … in it.

As always, I have no fuckin’ idear where to start, so the beginning seems logical ( Trippy!). I’ll rifle through as many of these fab-rags as I can without getting all game-summary on ya. Problem is, every time I listen to this the cruisin’ tunes fly right by me before I can do a classic Gumshoe double-take (“wha-whaaat?”). 

Fuck it … Side A:

  •  The Venture 5 instantly deliver a decidedly non-surf-rock jaunt that grinds out a groovy organ line and gallops by quicker than a nifty prize horse;
  • Oh lord, lord … The Beat-Nicks produce early Kinks/Cyrkle/early Pink Floyd fab magic with “Feelin’ Sad,” and then, against all odds, trots out a chorus with a different feel altogether, akin to The Who/Creation and awesome in its aggression. Then, that “plunk … plunk … plunk” of a simple, clean chord progression comes back and I’m just glad to be alive. Catchy melody, too … 
  • The Mushroams keep the hype alive with a super-pristine cut, “Dely,” full of rave-up Yardbirds-esque jamming that brings the bass up front (you can also hear the four-string fucker going nuts on the verses, truly some innovative playing/phrasing/improvising);
  • Four-for-four: The Excelsiors offer up a toast to echo-vocal triumph with “Don’t Need No Other” (Why do I even bother to write out these song titles? They were always the same back then … ) and rock it out poor-man’s-Mamas & Pappas/Spanky & The Gang-style, clutching their mics tight and hitting their high notes, just barely;
  • Finally a DUD that makes me want to … aww hell, “Creation” — via The Image — is pretty goddamn good, too. I keep waiting for that classic compilation let-down to happen and I’m pleasantly surprised to say the trip is still vivid, my senses livid as ever;
  • “You Never Try” by The Gentlemen is a tough nut to crack (ouch). It sounds so familiar-but-distant; normally that quality links me to a track like two pieces of sausage, but in this case I’m baffled at how non-plussed I am. Still not a bad tune. “You Never Try” would probably sound ass-jammin’ if it were played alongside a bunch of crap;
  • At this point, I feel there’s some fatigue setting in, so I am going to stand up for a second, take a drink of water and compose myself …

I’m back and the needle has hit Side B. My thoughts:

  •  ”Hurt It” by The Strangers is the first song on the comp with almost no redeeming value. Too many more like this and I’m liable to cut my own dick off, or do something extreme to dull the pain. Time to take about 5 Tylenol PM … make that 10 …
  • Fuck … my … ASS this is good, The Beat-Nicks again hittin’ it HELLA-HARD with a soft touch, pitting proto-punk — but clean — riffs against subtly sloppy drums and authoritative man-crooning from the singer, whoever the FUCKK he is!
  • If “I See Your Face All Days” isn’t the most generic song I’ve heard on one of these comps in years than I’m not Gumshoe grill-buster;
  • If “How Do You Know” by The Boasters isn’t the best Beatles impression I’ve heard since The Dave Clark Five then I’m not Gumshoe goat-fucker;
  • If “Little Ruby” ain’t the second-best song about a gal named “Ruby,” then I ain’t Gumshoe WORLD-SMASHER … (there’s also just a flutter of proggy shit at the beginning and end of this cut; maybe that’s why they titled the comp thusly!) 

Is it not obvious? I need to put the laptop down and GET SOME SLEEPY. Goodbye now …

  • FUCK IT, there’s one more slice of ’60s goodness I wanna pour over thee: “Helpful Man” by St. James. This cut has some serious depth to it, getting all cutting-edge-psych jam at the end and holding it down with gorgeous, ghostly harmonies in the middle. A fantastic piece of action that seems a little buried at the tail-end of Side B … FUGGIT I’m GONE!

February 4, 2010

Graveyards – “Blues For the Night People” 2XLP /300 – Troubleman Unlimited [Album As Art #26]

 

Graveyards - "Blues for the Night People" - Troubleman Unlimited (Pictures of red/green vinyl coming soon!)

 

Graveyards – “untitled” (full-trio set at WFMU) MP3/download

John Olson (Wolf Eyes, American Tapes), Ben Hall and Hans Buetow (Editions Brokenresearch) = Graveyards … I didn’t know this until I saw an unseemly double-LP, unlabeled, sitting amid the leftovers at a record store soon going out of business.

Little did I know Blues for the Night People, named for a fairly innocuous Charlie Byrd song, I assume, was a super-limited — 300 copies — 2XLP on green/red translucent vinyl, delivered in the best-possible fashion: Totally anonymously, no labels, no bandnames, just the pretty psych-tiger-striped mess you see above. 

One of them’s a sax player, one diddles the cello and one clanks around on non-drums. It’s a pretty duck-and-cover way to present music, reveling in silence, that distance between sounds that some find boring and others find enchanting (with me, honest-to-god, it’s both).

I prefer the spare nature of Blues for Night People to, say, Suite Bittersweet by Nels Cline, Wally Shoup and Greg Campbell, not because the latter is necessarily inferior but because loud, boisterous improv often takes on a certain tone; after you’ve heard enough of those guy/guy/guy/dude combo recordings you can set yr watch to them, I shit you NOT (Sonic Youth and their SY-R series being the main culprit).

Not so with BfNP, a soupy stroll down a foggy dock at midnight, waves lightly lapping up against the sides of the wooden planks as you disappear into the mist of floating boats, reduced to ghost-like figures without their rich owners to take them out.

The cello on Side B is monstrous, rocking back and forth like yr grandma’s old chair amid the noisemakers, tom/timpani (Do they have access to a timpani? I doubt it but it totally sounds like one) and other rustles in the thicket.

Then, backing up a bit, it sounds like someone’s inflating a tire at the beginning of Side A. The mechanic is joined in his garage by greasy thumps, tapped-together metal gaskets, more inflating, wrench-clanking, what MUST be a pan flute and other unidentifiable clicks/taps/scrapes.

Did I mention the kazoo? Yeah, musta blocked that out, but it’s there too, making time with the cello and going steady with the wrenches. More inflating … 

Shitballs, I done ran out of shit to say. This is going to be a tough one to get yr hands on; I wouldn’t say forking over tons of cash for Blues is justified, but for the right price this is a wonderfully creepy-crawly sax/cello nugget to wrap yr mind around, particularly if you love the jazz-combo life and wanna get filthy.

February 3, 2010

Abe Vigoda – “Skeleton” cassette tape – Not Not Fun [Cassette Tape Review]

Abe Vigoda – “Dead City / Waste Wilderness” (MP3/download from Skeleton cassette tape; FANTASTIC)
Abe Vigoda – “Lantern Lights” (MP3, also from Skeleton)

If Abe Vigoda were a shotgun, they’d be locked and loaded and pointed at yr head.

If Abe Vigoda were a grapefruit, they’d be ripe and sweet-sour and on sale.

If Abe Vigoda were a movie, they’d be Joe Pesci in Goodfellas, because they “wow” you then stab you in the face.

Abe Vigoda are tour guides for post-post-punk. Whereas most bands take you to the same old destinations, AV show you the back alleys, the bloodstains in secret corners of apartment buildings, the old opium dens and the relics of crime few even know about any more.

Pull the curtain back from their genius and it’s all pretty simple: Riff, rhythm, rowdy, random, RIPPIN’ … that’s essentially the formula. A host of modern bands lend a hand, including:

  • The Smell compatriots No Age;
  • Slaraffenland’s chanting and guitarpeggios;
  • Liars‘ disaffected, disinterested-sounding (which is actually much more interesting than sounding interested) drone-rock;
  • Fellow post-punkers like Clip’d Beaks, Deerhunter and Each Other;
  • Swell Maps’/Epic Soundtracks‘ anything-goes attitude;
  • Post-everything rockers like Portugal. The Man, Dirty Projectors …
  • Groups on the harder edge of the spectrum like Shearing Pinx and Pissed Jeans;
  • Jay Reatard (RIP);
  • Hell, throw a little Minus The Bear and Animal Collective in there, for flavor;

There’s more, but I’ll make you hunt for it yrself. Skeleton is a tape Abe Vigoda made for sooo-hot-right-now Not Not Fun Records and it smokes just about everything else I’ve heard lately. These guys mean business. They’re flooding the world with material both vinyl and cassette, have carved a distinctive niche in Los Angeles and sit atop the Smell bandwagon.

What else is there to do? Keep FIGHTing, that’s what. Skeleton is a charge ahead, a denial of the posturing and the appropriation of the indie rockers of today, a statement that says, “We can stick with the punk-rock set-up and deliver something wackier than anything you can fry up on a synth stove.”

While groups like Matmos and AC are doing interesting things in the digital realm, hearing a band having so much fun with the standard guitar-bass-drums-vocals template is absolutely divine, a kick in the pants with a steel-toe work boot.

Don’t sleep on this shit. Abe Vigoda are incapable of producing non-events, immune to the instantly recognizable influences so rampant in intense brands of rock these days, true flag-wavers like Drive Like Jehu before them and Black Lips concurrent to them.

And the cassette tape: Is there anything more beautiful? Seriously, I need a moment here …

February 2, 2010

Various artists – “Michigan Brand Nuggets” – Belvedere Records [Curiosities #35]

[[[ SINCE IT'S A BOOTLEG IN THE FIRST PLACE, DOWNLOAD MICHIGAN BRAND NUGGETS FREE HERE, PART 1 and HERE, PART 2 (then pay way too much for it on eBay!) ... ]]]

If you’re looking for a prime example of MC5 overcoming the legend and delivering the DYNAMITE rock we’ve always credited them with …

If you’re looking for a 30-pack of tunes from groups like The Woolies, Shy Guys, Rationals, Amboy Dukes, Underdogs, Wanted, Tim Tam & The Turn-Ons, Ormandy, ? & The Mysterians, Southbound Freeway, Tidal Waves, Human Beings (sic) …

If you’re looking for … PRE-FAME BOB SEGER PSYCH-OUT FLASHES? Holy god …

Nevertheless, that’s what Michigan Brand Nuggets can do for you if you tap one of its smokes from its large, pretty gatefold 2XLP sleeve. I can’t decide what’s most surprising about this compilation: Its overall quality, its deep probing of the Seger canon or its fascinating back stories/tales (which includes one yarn about Binky Diamond, singer from Tidal Waves, dying during a performance ) …

Oh god, but I just gotta break into the music ASAP. Here are some highlights:

  • Terry Knight & The Pack sound so much like The Lovin’ Spoonful (whom I’ve also been MAJORly into lately; this started with my dad listening to “Nashville Cats” in the car, likely) I think I just believed in magic. But this is Herman’s Hermits SPLATTERED on the windshield of a yellow submarine … that and John Sebastian/Zal Yanovsky goodness that drips from the speakers like love-honey …
  • Bob Seger and The Last Heard singing “East Side Story” … you can hear the gristle-y grit in his voice already, like a rock, as strong/cock-slappin’ as it can be! Grow a beard, plow a field, punch a minority, skull-fuck yr inferiors, that kinda conservative shit …
  • Unrelated Segments gettin’ all ferocious on that ass, jinglin’ and a-janglin’ and dealing in Kinks krunch while dipping into Yardbirds’ “yeeeeeaaaaahhh! Rock ‘n’ Rolllllll!” trough with a plunge and a loud “PLOP” …
  • Shy Guys dialing into the pop side of the spectrum and half-delivering with their semi-close harmonies and kinda-katchy, somewhat clunky Grease-to-be songwriting …
  • Another close-but-no-cigar/snatch from Underdogs, soundin’ like Fine Young Cannibals 20 years too early an’ shit …

And THAT’S JUST SIDE 1 … there are THREE MORE SIDES to go, one of them containing a ? & The Mysterians track I’ve probably never heard (it’s actually a rather half-boner reading of “Can’t Get Enough of You Baby”). Can you say BINGO BONUS?

Albums like this make it tough for me to go to bed at night. Side 2 might be even more of a lightnin’ bug than S-1, breakin’ out karate chops from Human Beings (sic), a sick, stuttering assault from MC5 in “Borderline,” Intelligence-foreshadowing period pop-rock from Tidal Waves, whom assert, “I’m in love with your daughter,” then go on to talk about the way “she wiggles,” the way “she walks” …

Trust me, that’s not going to score any points with the in-laws. 

I could detail every single crack-nugget-pouch on this collector’s cocktease and not break a sweat but I can only tag and categorize so much psychedelic slop-heaven before I start to see stars and burning cinders in the air.

Seek this out (or follow the link above; you could just, you know, do that) and, when this record takes over your mind-throat and starts talking for you, throw me a comment that masturbates me for the great, wish-granting gorilla I am.

SHITBALLS!!! (One more quickie: Southbound Freeway’s “Psychedelic Used Car Lot Blues” is like one toke over the line at the railway station after too much time truck-truck-truckin’ with Casey Jones, with a big bindle of coke in a briefcase and a barf bag covering yr butthole …)

February 1, 2010

Full Sail and the Myth of Music-Business Degrees [Curiosities #34]

 

"Real World Education"? AHAHAHAHAHAHA, oh god, oh god, AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ... (ha ha) ...

 

I wasn’t planning on posting a rollicking segment regarding Full Sail, a music school where prospective students can learn the so-called tricks of the trade, but after seeing a manipulative ad for the school on MySpace (“Get in on the Music Business; sign up now!”) I feel I have to let y’all in on a few little secrets.

To wit:

  • Most famous producers, whose names seem to appear on every goddamn album (Steve Albini, Phil Ek, etc.), played in bands FIRST, then got in the producer’s chair and found they had a knack for it. Whether they got into production early on or later on, the source is normally the same: They played in a kick-ass group;
  • This means most of the producers whose work you cherish did NOT go to an insanely expensive (and thus kick-ass?) school, mostly because music production doesn’t pay enough to whittle down $40,000 in student loans;
  • I personally know a graduate from Full Sail. He went in giddy as all get-out and graduated ready to take the industry by storm. Last I heard he was a bartender (and not a Sound Guy/bartender combination, either);
  • I also personally know a graduate from a music school in the UK, which boasted Sir Paul McCartney himself as a proprietor. He’s currently going to a REAL school and playing in underground bands, just like you. He works in the music business alright, but mostly pro bono;
  • Every school gets lucky, hence the Full Sail testimonials from somewhat-famous people, but if you think about the fact that one or two people found lucrative jobs out of thousands of graduates, well, you realize the odds are NOT in your favor.
  • Puffed-chest music schools, for their expensive tuition and equipment, can’t teach you the most important skills you need to survive in the music industry (networking, beyond-great luck, a knack for being in the right place at the right time, years of working for little-to-no pay, interning at age 34, etc.), all of which you can learn on your own time, on your own dime. 
  • Just look at all the people you know who went to REAL colleges and think about the percentage of them who got the opportunities they actually wanted. Pretty small right? Now think about .02 percent of THAT number; this is the percentage of people who graduate from a music-biz college and truly get the opps they want (statistics unofficial).

It sucks, but it’s true. My lesson? If you’re going to go to a big, expensive music school at least realize the futility of it all and drop the snobby poses. Don’t be a Music-School douche!

That is all …

January 29, 2010

Dig That Body Up, It’s Alive – A Corpse is Forever – Rock Is Hell Records [Album Review]

Dig That Body Up, It’s Alive – “The Fair Forest” MP3/Download
Dig That Body Up, It’s Alive - “Daughters” MP3/Download 
Dig That Body Up, It’s Alive - “Severed Head” MP3/Download
Dig That Body Up, It’s Alive - “Kids Clothes” MP3/Download 

Not that I ever doubted John Dwyer’s ability to shock and amaze simultaneously, but FUCK THIS BAND IS HEAVY, SALTY and JUST-PLAIN REEKS OF SWEET, CRIMINAL BLOOD-DEATH, EYEBALLS OUT OF SOCKETS AND CRITTERS INVADING AND EATING ROTTING HUMAN FLESH.

Or something like that (I’m actually kind of a mellow guy); the band I’m referring to is Dig That Body Up, It’s Alive, a group composed of Dwyer, drummer Oran Canfield and vocalist Nate Denver

First, the ingredients:

  • A pinch of power violence;
  • A dash of death metal;
  • A thimble-full o’ thrash;
  • A gob of grind (actually I just said “gob” because it kept the alliteration going; there’s really just a bit of grind mixed in);
  • Two jiggers of noise-rock circa Pink & Brown
  • And a shit-load of Care, DTBUIA’s secret ingredient …

I’m not kidding about that last bullet-point, by the way. A Corpse Is Forever, Dig That Body Up’s only full LP, contains some of the most serious thrashing I’ve heard in my goddamn life.

Dwyer, who is solely responsible for the guitars and bass (though no bass player is credited on the jacket), puts on the performance of his life, and I do NOT say that with even a tinge of lightness … I mean, the man is a genius already — hearing an album this NUTSO-UP-THE-BUTTSO out of nowhere is a treat on par with discovering that tasty lil’ Brujeria 7-inch hiding in my audio shoebox, or finding that Swell Maps LP on red wax that actually had stuff I hadn’t heard on it!

Shit is rare, dog. I got #247/333 copies, so, you know, it’s only a matter of time before this slab of SHIT-stained rage-metal slips out of print (OOP) and, thusly, out of life. (It’s on 180- or maybe 200-gram vinyl, too, weighty as shit).

Don’t miss out. The guitar runs are too precise and jagged, the drums too … how do I describe them? … AGile, a little light in volume but heavy on character, with technical skill akin to dude from Daughters/As The Sun Sets (perhaps a notch below, but we’re talkin’ cream of the crop here) and a ton of originality in his rhythmic phrasing.

The blast beats don’t hurt either, bringing to mind Usurp Synapse via the combination of the bb’s and the complimentary arpeggio-heavy fret runs.

I’m also reminded, of all things, of Cannibal Corpse, that guts-eating death-metal group from the infamous Florida d-m scene, or at least their material when Scott Burns was still a member. They really knew how to crush a skull with prejudice, their wolf-bound cries filling many a small car with evil back when I was in high school.

Also file under: Landed, another of Dwyer’s past involvements (seek the OUT), Morbid Angel, Charles Bronson, Bolt Thrower, Neil Perry, Training For Utopia, Veil Of Maya … the list goes on and on.

A lot of you indie kids aren’t going to know what I’m talking about here, but trust me, the heavy, death-obsessed, power-violence shit NEEDS to — PLEADS to — become part of yr diet, as it became part of the shaman Dwyer’s. 

Bow down and worship at the thorn-ridden feet of yr biggest fears … or something.

January 28, 2010

Locrian – “Endless Plains / Flat Horizon” cassette tape – Peasant Magik [Cassette-Tape Review]

 

I prefer to retain Locrian's personal anonymity.

 

OK, so y’all know I’ve been on Locrian’s jock BIG-TIME, and you’re probably all tired of reading about my obsession with this group, which consists of Terence Hannum & André Foisy.

Well, hold on to yr hats, because here’s yet another scrap of Gumshoe love, directed at the oh-so-drone-der-ful Locrian, this time in reference to their Endless Plain / Flat Horizon cassette tape on Peasant Magik.

This one appears at Tiny Mix Tapes, so read and enjoy!!!

GUMSHOE’S REVIEW OF LOCRIAN’s ENDLESS PLAIN / FLAT HORIZON CASSETTE TAPE

January 27, 2010

New Top-10, Album of the Week #10 and “Sundown” by Gordon Lightfoot

 

Totally unauthorized image, sucka!

First off, the other day I posted a random, classic-rock track that was on my mind for days. A lot of people clicked the link. So I’m doing it again, this time with a tune that I just love all over:

Gordon Lightfoot – “Sundown”

Be sure to listen to this song while driving a pick-up truck. Naw fuck that fuck that, download the song, burn it to CD, go to a dealership, buy a HUGE, gas-guzz-guzz-GUZZlin’ Ford pck-’p TRUCK with a sweet tape deck.

Then record the CD onto a tape with yr old-school boombox, with just “Sundown” one after another. YEEEEE-HAWWWW!!!

Here’s the skinny on the other shit: Imma day late delivering my Top-10 for ‘dis week, but hey, I was drinkin’ too musha that 8-ball again.

But yo, don’t get it twisted, playa; I’m always on-point, even when I’m mushy. For an example of this, check out my ALBUM OF THE WEEK #10, which is MC Ren’s Shock of the Hour.

IF you think I’m playin’, check out this cut:

MC Ren – “F*ck What Ya Heard”

If that ain’t enough, toke this shit up (they talk about murderin’ caucasians in this one!):

MC Ren – “Attack on Babylon”

At this point, if yo’ not convinced yo’ just a bitch anyhow. But, if not, here’s my Top-10 for this week (even though you can look at it, like, RIGHT THERE —->):

1. Risil (does no one care about Zach Hill’s latest super-group?)
2. The Ramones (Captain Obvious, am I)
3. Nadja (Keeping up is impossible, but so is ignoring them)
4. Time-Lag Records (One of the craziest catalogs out there)
5. Savath Y Savalas (For those rare, but specific, times when you need them/him)
6. Acid Gallery (“Dance Round the Maypole,” bitches!)
7. Fat Mike (Not just a great musician, but a great label head and commentor on punk-history DVDs)
8. Josephine Foster (It’s good to have her around again)
9. Danielson Famile (Sorta like Daniel-son — wax-on, wax-off — but always just Danielson)
10. Katie Mullins (Any artist who generates this many hits is coo in my book)

January 27, 2010

Toro Y Moi – “Causers of This” CD – Carpark Records [Speed Round #10]

Toro Y Moi – “Blessa” MP3/download
Toro Y Moi – “Timed Pleasure (Body Language remix)” MP3/download 

Toro Y Moi, also known as Chaz Blundick, seem to make a lot of sense to a lot of people right now. I’m trying my darndest to figure out why, I really am.

Aside from a few Excepter-ish moments on “Lissoms” that curl the cortex a little, and a few instances where the cute-cuddly playfulness gets pushed aside, Causers of This is a remarkably flat shot of World-pop.

Channeling Gary Wilson, Har Mar Superstar, Emperor X, Ariel Pink and Dosh while incorporating Latin/World, dub and hip-hop influences is a good idea on paper, but it never really translates. 

The only thing worse than dance-rock is shit like this; dance-slop that has no purpose whatsoever, save to be the object of abject adoration based on label affiliation (Carpark is run by Animal Collective, sort of) and a toilin’-ass tourin’ schedule.

Wish I could help ya’ here; I never thought I’d wish for Nite Jewel, but … 

And my time is up!

January 26, 2010

Locrian – “Rain of Ashes” CD – Basses Frequences [Album Review]

Locrian – “Ghost Repeater”

Terence Hannum & André Foisy comprise Locrian, and Rain of Ashes comprises what, to me, is the perfect drone-disguised-as-metal document. 

Think:

  • Pretty much any Nadja/Aidan Baker collab release that leans toward the noise/drone end;
  • Tim Hecker, Dead Texan and the other Kranky-ites;
  • The in-between moments on Deerhunter/Atlas Sound albums;
  • A desert-blur noisefest from Destructo Swarmbots;
  • Pussygutt and pretty much anything on 20 Buck Spin;
  • Dead C, Pumice and a lot of other N.Z. tape-hiss veterans on or off Siltbreeze;
  • Your Death (not a band name, but, yes, the End of You, FUCKER) …

The title track, a nearly half-hour BEHEMOTH, starts with a throbbing blob of electricity and a crackling guitar, crests on the waves of a ear-ringing tone and improv-style chants and settles into the brain like a tumor with its addictive, warm-tub, fever-dream ambiance. 

There’s screaming, too, and mayhem and murder, but it’s never implicitly stated. For that it’s all the more creepier. Once the programmed gurgles of synth sweep in slowly, effortlessly, I’m asleep, adrift, in hibernation, floating, dreaming, stirring, opiating, dilating …

This section reminds me of the long, super-trippy intro to Steve Miller Band’s “Fly Like an Eagle” (a song I find myself referencing all the time), a mind-melt that keeps the warm vibes flowing and sinks into the brain like a searing liquid, hot to the touch and addictive once you let it take you down the drain.

“Rain of Ashes” is my favorite Locrian moment in a sea of superior black metal/drone/ambient/noise overtures. Ever-conscious of the listener, it trudges without tripping on too much cushioning, nurturing its motif until it’s time to move on to the next strangely compelling hybrid of the genres mentioned above. 

An expanse of strumming, panning, pitch-exploding and plaster BLAST closes the cut out as the themes explored in the previous minutes make second appearances, your ears searching for purchase, your patience tested to the bone. What will come next? Will it hold you? WHY SO MUCH MYSTERY IN THIS TOUGH-LOVE LOCRIAN LIFE?

“Sehsa Fo Niar” is what you get for your stick-with-it-ness, a reward worth its toils tenfold. “Fo Niar” is a more immediate thrill than “Ashes,” drowning its contents in liquid-nitrogen death then hitting it with a ball-peen hammer. This is where the noise takes over and the senses erode from too much sugary ear-syrup death candy.

Soon (OK, 10 minutes later) the synths that trickled into the nooks and crannies of your throbbing brain stem awhile back, as part of “Rain of Ashes,” reappear and radiate a flourescent-/nuclear-green glow that you know is dangerous but you can’t look away from … claustrophobia, panic, back-of-neck sweat, doubt, isolation, nervosa, ADD, OCD, WTF …

I can’t get over how much more addicting this is than, say, 90 percent of the noise/drone you hear these days. Rain of Ashes, as a two-song set, is a statement, a FUCK YOU to the Old Man, a king-of-the-mountain challenge that dares any crust/noise/prog/metal/scum-blast rockers to create something as ominous, as all-encompassing, as IT OWNS YOU-ish.

I don’t exactly see Greg Anderson/Stephen O’Malley of Southern Lord shitting themselves over this, but they have to be at least considering signing this band. You heard it here first, people; it’s happening.

January 26, 2010

Katie Mullins – “Pastoral” – self-released [Speed Round #8]

Katie Mullins – “Pastoral”

There’s little doubt: I was avoiding Pastoral. I don’t know who Puppini Sisters are (UPDATE: The Puppini Sisters, whom count Kate Mullins, not the Katie Mullins being reviewed here, as part of their band, are a group specializing in 1940s-style interpretations of modern songs, which sounds AWESOME); I don’t know who the FUCK Lucinda Black Bear is, nor do I know who Katie Mullins, herself, is.

What to do?

Thing is, most of Pastoral is fairly solid. (In unrelated news, I’m thinking about Dan Fogelberg’s “Leader of the Band” right now and feeling quite yearnsome; LISTEN FOR YOURSELF and tell me you don’t feel the same way.)

Mullins fares best when she strays from the farcical gal-and-her-guitar-get-intimate stuff and goes off on her Mbira, as she does on the second and fifth songs (I can’t find a tracklisting for this goddamn thing anywhere, but the above MP3 is an example of one of Mullins’ better songs), taking advantage of the participation of Kristin Mueller and Andrew Spencer Goldman (again, I have no the-FUCK idea who these people are).

I’m delighted to admit I liked this as much as I did. I even enjoyed the acapella tune someone else panned in an online review I read today.

Toss Liz Janes, Tori Amos, Til Tuesday, Tracy Chapman, Laura Nyro, Judee Sill and a few others in a blender and … oh, you get the idea. Solid.

Time’s up!

January 25, 2010

Gumshoe is takin’ the day off …

 

Penny welcomes you to enjoy some "ice-keem" ...

Yep, that’s right, Jan. 25 is Gumshoe Day.

I’m gonna sit back and sip champagne coolies for a day and read to my daughter. 

Be sure to plumb the extensive archives (HA! OK not so extensive, but existent) and throw a comment my way …