Saturday, June 18, 2011

Contaminators-LP & 7"s

A few years ago, I think the bros over at terminal boredom (is that still going on?) pumped this up. The 7" slays. The lp is solid too. It's hot and gross and it's one of those times you might just want to take a hot shot and listen to some skag rock played by some creeps that will probably mug you and rape your dog. Actually, they all seem like nice gents but they play some rock in the mode of Johnny Thunders and seriously fucked individuals. I doubt they are of that sort, but they seem to walk it like they talk it. So maybe they're the new Steely Dan. I don't know. You don't either. Listen to "Drugs" or "Ain't so Fun" and tell me that snottiness doesn't mean something to you; I'll tell you you never punched anyone in the face, or broke a window for fun, or skated with the hope of breaking your neck, or taking far too many drugs when know you really should take ten times more (if that makes sense). Pure modern pop.

Here

Friday, June 17, 2011

Edgar Broughton Band-Sing Brother Sing

Oh such a classic. Why have I not posted this before? Laziness? Perhaps. I got accused of pinching this one off a friend too (see previous posts) but I didn't. If you're into the whole free festival, getting it together in the country, weirdos unite type of vibe then this is capitol. Kind like a funked up Beefheart with more psych flourishes. This could easily fill the dancefloor and get some hippy chicks to shake their asses, and probably a bunch of other sweeties too. So the stank of patchouli is enough to scare this man off from the festivities, but perhaps you're of stronger fiber and can tolerate that heinous olfactory offense. Good for you. I hope this works like a charm. Since it is a charm.

Here

Notekillers

Nerds unite. Seriously, check the image and tell me this doesn't look like an odd conglomerate. Kinda looks like a pic of me and my high school friends. No one seems to fit. And fit, they did not. Being from Philly, they missed out on the whole NYC cool kids thing (actually,, they are not cool and that city sucks). They played weirdo, 40 years ahead of their time punk/funk/jazz/groove. Kinda like an American This Heat but with soul (not saying that because there's a black guy here either). Just a really fucking brilliant band that only Thurston Moore and the like love. I believe they recently reunited and I can only imagine many hipster skulls were crushed by these guys. Their real audience has yet to be born. Once a Saturnalian mates with a Zebra and a coat hanger, then those ears might be attuned to what the fuck these guys were really about.

Here

New Tweedy Bros.!

Don't worry, this has no connection to that needle head in Wilco. I probably should like them since they're the biggest rock band coming out of this town in some time, but they are just dull and not worth it. Previous posts have demonstrated the brilliance of fantastic lp packaging that will probably never see this sort pressed again. Yes, the lp actually looks like this. But that's only one selling point. Classic psych here be. As with most of the relics of the time, there's a certain amount that has not weathered the storm in a classic fashion. But give the kids a break. You think most of the moves people were making 20 years ago hold up later? Well, considering the trough of boring minimal synth shit being recycled at the moment, they might. Give it 5 more years and you'll laugh. Funny how peoples' taste changes so quickly.

Here

Dino Valente

Poor Chester William Powers, Jr. A guy couldn't possibly have had worse luck. Starting off will all the cool folkies in the Greenwich Village scene, Valente graduated to chumming it up with what would become the powerhouses of the Bay Area. His list of amigos is like a veritable who's who of 60s rock and folk. And when his band, Quicksilver Messenger Service was poised to join the ranks of classic S.F. psych bands, Valente got pinched and wound up in the can. Eventually, he was able to rejoin and produce some classic sounds with them, but it was never quite the same. Then after some brain surgery, he died in the 90s when everyone seemed to have forgotten about this fantastic album. Really breezy, charming psych/folk 12 string bending tunes. To this day, outside of his cult following, he remains criminally underrated as a guitar player and song writer. But that just seems to be how things go.

Here

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

Dickens-Royal Incarnation

I know I might not be the most trustworthy source when it comes to French music, seeing that I have, what may be, an unhealthy fetish for that language. But, being aware of my tendencies to hype that, I am afforded the proper critical distance at the moment to say that this is probably the best French psych record of all time. I've got a long list running on the subject (surprised?) and this one always comes up on top. I know for some, saying it's the best French psych record is like saying it's the best Yiddish rai album, but people who want to get into that shit have not dug deep enough. No joke, put this up against psych from around the globe and it will always rank high. I don't know anything about them, nor do I care to. All I need to know is that this is fucking fantastic and that may be all there is to know (cue Aaron Neville doing that annoying no ball trill).

Here

Pappo's Blues-Volumen 3

When I think of white guy blues I find myself picturing someone who smeared some toothpaste on his clothes and pretended to be an artist. When I think of Argentinian blues I didn't think of fucking anything. Kinda reminds me of when a Norwegian friend of mine asked me what Americans think of his nation. I just responded, "we don't." But all of that was before I heard of Pappo. A while back, a whole slew of his records were reissued and that got a few ears into his sounds. Good thing since this is some real sounds worth investigating (I've got volumes 1-7 if people want more). And the guy played with Peter Green and Lemmy. Therefore he is instantly cool. Don't worry, this isn't some boring ass bluez project type of shit (not shitting on Bloomfield or Kooper with that comment either).

Here

Steve Lacy-Lumps

Most of the time, when I see that phallic soprano sax being raised to some jazzbo's lips I can't help but to feel like my ears are about to be raped by something horribly non-jazz, or god forbid, smooth jazz. Somehow, this motherfucker made it work. It's not like it hasn't been done before, but it's just that there's so few people who can do it well. I guess when you're aided and abetted by fellow NWW listers like Han Bennink (love him) and Michel Waisvisz playing some weirdo electronics (see previous posts on both of these dudes) you can play an electric toilet seat and still sound pretty great. I don't think this is the Lacy album most people go to (they probably grab the e.s.p. disk stuff) but i think this is aces.

Here

Thunder and Roses-King of the Black Sunrise

After all those years of waiting and Chinese Democracy arrived and sounded just like a mid period Elton John record. Pretty pathetic. I love Elton John, but I don't want to hear some fat baldy with horrendous corn rows (certainly fake) try to imitate mr. flamboyant. I'm pretty sure the direct decline of the band can be attributed to the ousting of Izzy. I'm guessing he was the one supplying the Stonesy crotch rot that seemed to permeate their early recordings. And while I was never their biggest fan (I never bought them as a metal act) I thought they wrote some solid pop songs that were much better than most of the shit that was clogging the airwaves at the time. Oh shit, I just realized this is Thunder and Roses. Oops. Oh well. So they got this angel/fire hydrant hybrid thing going on. So there. Nirvana covered them too. But don't forget, they also cover Boston (blech).

Here

Sonny Bono-Inner Views

It must have been hard being the butt of so many jokes. And there's plenty to make fun of about Sonny Bono, but this album is no joke. It kinda seems like one of those cash in, grab some dollars off the kids by exploiting a fad type of album that I love so much. Psych purists furrow their brows when it comes to those types of disks, but I can pull this one out of the dollar bin while they save up for some super obscurity that is actually worth less than a dollar. And I kinda doubt he thought that opening the album with a near 15 minute track was really going to move units. There's some ripe fromage here too but once you acquire the taste the craving for it becomes hard to satiate.

Here

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Dog Faced Hermans-Mental Blocks for all Ages

If you're reading these posts in reverse, then nothing will make much sense, but it's another lazy night and I figured I'd source the texts out to a book which I've had forever but have never really dug deep into. It's titled "Wit and Humor of the Age," and is most notable for including Mark Twain as a contributor. I'm holding a first edition (fancy me) and let me tell you, the humor sucks (unless you like jokes about "Negroes" or the Dutch (by that they mean Germans (vuh?))). Nevertheless, I thought they might be of interest, and figuring my other experiment with images went down fairly well, figured why not? So I guess this is an experiment of the longevity of humor. If you actually want to know what the albums are like, read the tags or find descriptions elsewhere. Nice racism Twain. I hope your shit gets rewritten and completely stripped of any historical context. Oops..too late. Oh well, I guess the kids are safe.

Here

Die Haut-Schnelles Leben

A Lucid Direction.

"But now, Hans," said a Chicago butcher to a Dutch farmer, "how can I find the hog that I have bought?"
"You comes mit mine farm."
"But how shall I find your farm?"
"You shoost goes dot Clark Sdhreet out and turns to de right till you comes to a fence mit a hole in it, den you turns up to de right for a while till you sees a house and a big hog in de yard. Dot's me."

Here

The Fates-Furia

Meals in the U.P.
At a station on an overland route, the keeper got rather short of provisions--in fact had nothing left but a bottle of mustard and some bacon. As the stage stopped there one day to change horses, the passengers seated themselves at the table, and the host said:

"Shall I help you to a piece of bacon?"
"No, thank you; I never eat bacon," said one traveler.
"Well, then," said the station-keeper, "help yourself to some of the mustard."

Here

Model Citizens

A Short Courtship.
"Widder Jenkins," said an Ohio famer as he bustled into her house one morning, "I am a man of business. I am worth $10,800, and want you for a wife. I give you three minutes in which to answer."

"I don't want ten seconds, old man," she replied, as she shook out the dish cloth. "I'm a woman of business, worth $16,000, and I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man in earth! I give you a minute and a half to git."

Here

Slick Rick-The Great Adventures of

Commenced Work Very Young.

A woman was testifying in behalf of her son, and swore "that he had worked on a farm ever since he was born."
The lawyer who cross examined her, said:
"You assert that your son has worked on a farm ever since he was born?"
"I do."
"what did he do the first year?"
"He milked."

Here

Friday, June 10, 2011

Pant

Do you know these gents? If so then tell me more. I can't find fuck all about them. I assume they are from the British Isles but I'm not sure if that's accurate. I know it's on Redball. And I'd guess this is from 1978-81. What is obvious from this record is that it's about 30 years too early. If this was released today I'm quite certain there'd be lots of din and glamor chaunted about this group. It's actually way better than the pop that passes as acceptable currently so maybe that's not fair for me to say. Nice, lo-fi home sounds. 4 tracks and all are keepers. Go Betweens, Joy Division, Swell Maps, and all the other good sounds of the era distilled into one small piece of vinyl. So, back to the first question; who they hell were these guys and where did they go?

Here

The Wolfgang Press-The Burden Of Mules

For some reason or another, I never really gave these guys a chance. I just assumed they were a little too dancey for my likings. So I just wrote them off, as I am apt to do. Then I was told that these guys were part of my beloved Rema-Rema, but I was still resistant since I seem to remember hearing them at some point as dismissing it. But I finally broke down and gave this a listen and instantly felt like a dolt. If you're like me and prefer Flowers of Romance over Metal Box (okay, I miss Levine actually playing guitar) then this is a continuation of those claustrophobic tropes that made that album such a success. It almost makes you feel like you're participating in some alien ritual. I'm just glad I'm not the one being sacrificed.

Here

Pyha-The Haunted House

Nope, Pyha is not the Pakistan Youth Hostels Association, but a young Korea fella. So young, that I've been told he was in junior high when he spewed out this noxious piece of fright. I've got a few friends living in Korea and I only hear about how much they love it and how they will never come back to America. I guess Pyha dwells in some nether region in the sewage and waste that my friends are never exposed to, only to pop the sewer grate to go to high school, and then return to his personal abyss. That, or he likes playing baseball and cartoons and candy and this is some demented split personality that he's still unaware even exists. Maybe it's just me, but listening to this kinda makes me sad.

Here

Carlos Paredes-Movimento Perpetuo

Dubbed "The Man with a Thousand Fingers," this guy does more shredding than any of your dudes who work at guitar center (if you've ever been into one of those places you know exactly whom I'm talking about). Hmm, from the photo above I can only see a few digits, so I'm guessing his body is covered with those extra phalanges. But from the sounds recorded herein, it does seem possible that there are several other secret hands involved. I'm not much a fan of wanky guitar, but this shit is just too good to fall into that category. And he looks pretty cool on the cover too. More people need to put on suits when they play. What happened to class people?

Here

Little Milton-If Walls Could Talk

This probably falls into some time gap where it would have made more sense to post this last week when I was hanging out in my sister's condo, since it's the old Chess records factory (not the studio, which is on Michigan). Then again, it might make more sense to post this next week, as I'll be in Kansas City. So I dedicate that track to me. The rest is devoted to all the schemers and creepers out there who are in need of more soul. This will most likely appeal to James Carr fans out there (hint, hint Sam). This is considered by most soul-heads to be a classic and it's pretty fucking obvious why that is.

Here

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Gal Costa

I don't know where you live, but around these parts shit has been heating up to an unbearable degree. Yesterday-100, today-upper 90s. That shit might make sense if you live in desert like climates, but for early June in the Chicago that's way too fucking hot. Keep in mind, I've lived here for decades and around this time it may get into the 90s occasionally, but 60s, 70s, 80s is much more common. So mentally, I headed south. This album exudes heat. Super hot, fuzzed up tropicalia that makes your mind think that the cover looks like a natural environment. This is by no means an undiscovered treasure of the whole Tropicalia scene, but it's utterly essential for those who want to melt their minds on a bullshit days as such. Fuck this...I'm heading to a tundra.

Here

KMD-Bl_ck B-st-rds

Maybe I should start off with a disclaimer for dummies. This isn't some RAC or Blazebirth Hall shit. I didn't make up the cover. I didn't give it this title. I lived with a black dude for years (see, excellent white guy cop out), who happens to be my best friend (thought the ass didn't make me godfather to his child). Instead, this is actually the seeding ground for MF Doom and all the permutations that guy has gone through over the years. This shit was coming around in the early 90s if I recollect correctly, so it seems weird to me that decades later the guy is finally getting some of the cred he deserves. Guess what ninnies, this shit sounded good way back then. Where were you? Oh, that's right...in pampers.

Here

Erkin Koray-Elektronik Turkuler

If you read my post about Zen down below, I might come across as a name dropping prick. I don't mind being called a prick, but I will contest the label of name dropper. So, just in case you aren't familiar with this guy, I should post his seminal work. Really, guy cut a bunch of shit worth checking out, but this is the one the kids seem to like, so here it is. People call him the Turkish Jimi Hendrix. I hate that type of shit. But at least I've never read about the Uzbek Jimmy Buffett. People are dumb.

Here

Tales of Terror

I spent the weekend watching my sister's dogs. She lives in the old Chess records pressing factory (the plant on 21rst, not the studio on Michigan). So I walked the dogs around the lakefront (Lake Michigan for those without geographical sense and those outside the U.S.). And being that it's 2011 I couldn't believe that I continuously had to see roller bladers. I thought that shit died out decades ago. Being a skater for decades, I hated the advent of that bullshit mode of transportation and I can't say that hatred has waned in the passing years. Fuck those people. And by extension, fuck long borders too. You're not skating, you're a frat boy who's too lazy to walk (at least in the Mid-West). So here's some classic punk if you want to be like me and be an old fool skating around town. I honestly can't even do any tricks anymore. But this shit makes me feel like I should try to jump a 50ft gap knowing all the while that a broken bone will occur but never caring.

Here

Zen-Derya

There's been that trend over the last several years to dig up all those delightful Turkish (Anatolian) psych goodies. And believe me, I'm all for excavation. The problem is is that there's this symptom that comes along with getting too historical (I know, I'm a fucking Victorianist). People seem to negelect everything else that isn't in that particular span of time. And that might lead all of those people whose panties get wet over Selda & Ersen & Erkin, etc. to forget that there was still some pretty awesome things that came after the flood. Here's just one example. These dudes most certainly were familiar with their forefathers, but they definitely were exposed to the goings on throughout the 80s and 90s. It's facile to fetishize the past and believe that it's some crystalline representation of what something is is about (if that makes sense), but in doing so we run the risk of negelecting everything else that has learned from those pioneers. So, for those with an eye towards the East (that is, if you're over in the Americas), then here's the continuation of all the shit kids have been drooling over.

Here

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Crossed Out-1990-1993

That whole picture in place of a write up thing was pretty fun , and I’m a little surprised that people actually downloaded albums, but I’m a big mouth and I’ve got to too much pent up aggression to let the pictures do the talking. So on that note, I decided to call some people out and write up my new “People I Want to Fight” list. So if you’re someone who is actually capable of organizing these events then let’s set it up and we can stream it on line and all make some cash. Side note, the people on this list will have to travel to fight me as I am certain they have much more money than I do. However, I will provide cold drinks and a commemorative tee shirt for all participants. Here’s the people who deserve a fist to the face:

1.) Vampire Weekend.

Easy target I know but I have no idea how many people are actually in this band yet I’m fairly certain I can fight them all at once and defeat them all.

2.) The guy who does the Apple commercial voice overs.

Even worse than the Olive Garden guy in that he has that smug/detached nasal voice thing going on. And he says “yeah” or “yup” in every fucking commercial. Ooh…so casual and cool like all the saps who buy your shit. I doubt you’ll sound so nonchalant with a broken nose.

3.) The guy who does the voice overs for Olive Garden commercials.

There is no way that you can actually be that enthusiastic for such shitty food. Do you do back flips everytime your AIDS tests continue to come back positive too?

4.) Girls who talks with that whistle s sound.

When the shit did this fake accent start? It couldn’t have been that long ago. I recently had to leave a table full of friends because some girl sat down with them. She seemed really great, but I couldn’t stand to hear her talk. That shit grates on the ears. And I will smack a bitch.

5.) That dude who tried (and failed) to cut me off yesterday.

I got your license plates fucko and I will find you

6.) Connor Oberst (Bright Eyes)

Nuff Sed.

7.) Sufjan Stevens

See above.

8.) Jesus

Kinda suffers from the “good band/shitty fans” syndrome. But, honestly guy, you caused way too many problems. The jury’s still out if the nails and crucifix were enough.

9.) A cow.

Just because I want to prove my friends wrong. I don’t think a human can actually beat up a cow. I won’t lose, I won’t win, but my friends will owe me money.

10.) My kid brother Skvtt.

I love the guy to pieces but I seem to recall a time when I was about 8 and I was running down the stairs and he kicked me in the dick. Gird thy loins brother, they are due to meet the pointy end of my boot soon.

So this rant has fuck all to do with the album. It’s just what I imagine playing as I do my celebratory, victory lap around the loser’s carcass (I my mind I kill them with one fatal blow). I have a feeling this will also make you feel like the true champion that you are. Go get ‘em tiger.

Here

Orange Juice-The Heather's on Fire

You may ask where all this spleen is coming from and I can say the stress of moving, the transition to a new job, a million other things, but what weighs on my mind at the moment is age. No mid-life crisis or anything, but I recently saw a bunch of former friends and exes that I haven’t seen in well over 10 years (many I’ve known since elementary school, which makes our friendship older than a lot of readers here). And I might as well live on a different planet than they do. All we had to talk about was nostalgic moments of absurd recklessness and dead friends. They are bald and fat (the guys) and only want to talk about their kids (the girls) and they all seem interested in Jesus. I feel like a complete foreigner around my peers. Not like I fit in all that well before, but I clearly don’t want to have conversations about the best school districts and shit like that. This album too possesses that weird sense of isolation and longing for that lost time in one’s life when all that adult stuff didn’t seem to matter and it was better to steal some beer from a garage, hang out in a park until it was way too late, get up and do it again.

Here

Arnold Dreyblatt and the Orchestra of Excited Strings-Propellers in Love

Lately, I’ve kinda retreated from the music I typically listen to and have spend most of my ear hours poring over some classical music discs. See, I wasn’t in band as a kid and my parents mostly listened to soul records, so the real classics of classical music are as alien as Whitehouse is to most folk. Sure, I know the contemporary guys but I can’t tell you shit from Schumann. So that’s where I’ve been spending my research time. But that made me want to post something that made me interested in that genre in the first place. This isn’t super obscure or anything, just a really good entry way for people like me whose music taste went something like punk>metal>noise>psych>free jazz>contemporary classical>Abba>Abba>narwhal whale calls>Abba>death.

Here

Dorothy Asby-Afro-Harping

Who loves the harp?
Who cares that it makes plants grow ?
Who cares what it does
Since you broke my heart?

Those are the lyrics, right? Any instrument that requires such insane amounts of full body commitment must be respected. The harp rules and is super underused. Sure, there’s Zeena Parkins, and, and , and…err. Right, see. Name 5 harpists and I’ll give you 5 dollars. And if that harpist happens to be playing some funked up soul-jass then there’s no doubt it’s Dorthy. Every one of her albums is worth owning but you can most likely find them elsewhere. So start with this and begin the excavation. The relics uncovered will be well worth the investigation. And that’s mostly eager, ass kissing grad students and cheap local labor that do the digging anyways. At least, that’s what the Indiana Jones series has led me to believe.

Here