Tuesday, December 06, 2011
I got a cable the other day. I know! Who sends them anymore? Better yet, whose got the parts what to receives'em? Leave it to Fiona Finesse to stir up trouble though. She ain't never gotten over me. Not to mention a bloodhound's nose. The persistence to trackin me down is bafflin. So she sends this telex what come in over the wires to my Romanian landlady, Mrs. Valduva, downstairs. Probably got the only workin telex machine in the state. And Fiona was somehow onto it. So I hears these light thumps on my door & I knowed it was Mrs. V (see; her little hands is riddled w/arthritis so she can't knock. Instead, she rocks back 'n forth, bumpin the door ever so delicately w/the top of her head. It's like code, but not). I open up & she thrust the paper at me. "From da match-ine", she said evenly, "for you". I awkwardly took the cable, havin no idea what it was at 1st, & thanked her for the hospitality. She waved me off, turned as if to leave, then slowly came around to say "It for years since I hear the little voice.I think maybe it is the tzwika speaking. but no, is match-ine. Ah,is a sign! I tink from you wife. So you will leave now, yes"? I laughed & smiled at her. I said, no, I didn't have no clue what she'd just handed me. There weren't no wife (in the Christian sense) & I'd let her know when I was fixin to head out. She waved me off again & headed back down to her parlor.
So I take a gander at this message;
*HEY WOODBRAIN YOU CAN'T SHAKE ME BUT AM WILLING TO
*RESPECT YOUR SPACE. I SEE YOU ARE WRITING AGAIN. YOU
*NEED TO HEAR SPARE PARTS BY BAD BOY BUTCH BATSON. IT
*IS SO FAR UNDERGROUND YOU MIGHT HAVE TO CHECK UP YOUR
*ASS TO FIND A COPY. THERE IS SOMETHING INHERENTLY CARNAL
*THAT BRINGS BACK MEMORIES OF OUR AFTERNOON SPENT UNDER
*THE CASKET WAREHOUSE. REMEMBER WE WILL ALWAYS HAVE BURNT *CORN.
What a charmer! And to think I'd all but forgot our trip to Burnt Corn. Young lovers tryin to sate they's passion in an antique village. The things you conjure up ,grrrrrr! But that was a long time back. I don't think I'd bust a nut down in the moss 'n mud for nobody nowadays. And she don't seem to recall that copperhead. She's lucky I spotted it when I did. Rat snake my ass! If that thing'd bit her in the snizz, she'd still be swollen tighter than a Christmas goose.Women! They likes to pick 'n choose the memories, don't they? But she has a damn fine set've ears (among other things), so I set about gettin a copy of the lp she was hippin me to.
Procurin this'Spare Parts'album weren't so hard. Funny thing about it, say's it's material from 1998. It's hard to know if it's an lp what's been sittin around all them yrs, or if someone ponied up the snuff to see the material finally realized some 13 yrs later. Either way it's a humdinger. Batson's one of them enigmatic 'real people' types. Your glad he's out there (& OUT THERE) but at the same time, it's comfortin to know you ain't likely to cross paths. Like the best of'em, the battle between tenacity & narcissism is hand to hand, so the results is exemplary in a combination of knotty weirdness, inspired wildness & at times,just plain hilarious. Imagine a cross between Butch Willis & Alvaro. Or if Bruce Cole went & made a record w/Smegma. It's that kind of whack. And as such, a dead on keeper + one for the ages. Comes in an appropriately designed silk screened jacket + a lil booklet w/pics, lyrics & personnel. Stop on over to http://www.tediumhouse.com/ http://www.mimaroglumusicsales.com/
or http://www.fusetronsound.com/ to procure copies. Then go direct to http://www.badboybutch.com/index.html to find out all you'll ever need to know about the man. I'm sure it's quite a story. Just look at him! How could it not be?
Sunday, December 04, 2011
It has been an age since I last heard from Lester 'Ding Dong' Dell but he ain't lost a lick of his limerick genius.The thing about ol Ding Dong is this; he's much more fun to read than to hear. 'Cause he also SPEAKS in limerick form all the time too. So when I says he's a genius, I'm bein nice is all. That's how he's wired. Can't help it. Same as a retard. It's a fine line I'm told. Anyways, enjoy:
True Sons Of Thunder-Spoonful Of Seedy Dudes lp (Jeth-Row)
True Sons Of Thunder duly impale
On Jeth-Row Records this does in fact hail
The proto crud is real swimmin
It's like "rob all the men & fuck all the women!"
And behind them only winners will sail
Cheater Slicks-Gutteral lp (Columbus Discount)
CDR is a label so kind
Sent the live Cheater Slicks record, oh my, what a find!
What more can I say?
They bring it all day
If you don't dig it then eat my behind
Degreaser-Bottomfeeder lp (NGL)
Degreaser's got one in the can
Who amongst us is not yet a fan?
It weaves & it bobs
As it rectally robs
A young Sea Scout from being a man
Hank IV-Bellyful Of Slugs/Cold Equation 7" (S-S)
Hank IV have a new 7" platter
And on it they couldn't sound fatter
Twas it Anton LaVey
Who was so fond to say
"With cockrings it's mind over matter"
Black Humor-Love God, Love One Another lp (Superior Viaduct)
The Black Humor reissue is here
So scabrous, pugnacious and clear
It just goes to show
In case you don't know
That perversion is not always queer
Friday, December 02, 2011
Inside Every Sane Citizen Is A Madman Waiting To Run Free.....Devin Gary & Ross, 'Four Corners' 12" EP!
Arbitrary Signs is a newish label up to NYC which has been feedin heavy on a diet of unspecified peat tannins what's then oozes out it's various compounds into a succulent variety've aural alkaloids. The topper thus far's this 'Four Corners' 12" ep from the trio've Devin Gary & Ross. Now I could write great tract's of bubblin prose or gush long trails've fanboy tears as to my eternal admiration for one them's array've counter culture heroics. And I've only just been hipped to the other 2 feller's eye-poppin activities 'n it's fair to say I am lookin to gain citizenship into they's kung fu kingdoms post haste. Yeah, it's all warm 'n fuzzy, so before I collapse into spasms of psychonautic ecstasy, let it be known that Devin Gary & Ross has hybridized some kind of skewered ambio-ack that combines slow braised Pink Floyd proto-psych with chicken-fried Hirsche nicht aufs Sofa snorts awash in bucket've saucy, piquant Morricone-esque atmosphere. Even the Marty Robbins cover makes you's feel like it's a sunny day in a dry rubbed Colin Charteris universe. Stuffier shirts is likely to opine these amigos tres is the greatest embodiment of artist's to moonlight in underground NYC since De Maria Conrad & Young caged suds at Cedars. Which in all likelihood means the name, 'Velvet Underground' is right around the proverbial corner. But I ain't got no gallery to plug. And I'm about as far away from SoHo as I am Samoa. But I don't bear any ill will to curators. Hell no, in fact I damn near one myself! And everybody loves the Velvet Underground, right? But that's a whole 'nother hog on a spit. In closin I wanna say this 'Four Corners' ep is one of the finest releases these ears have had the pleasure to come across this yr. It's ergoline madras of whimsy, space 'n karma is as enchantin to the senses as they is to the soul. 300 pressed & a wise owl says they ain't many left. If you possess a mind that is prone to forward thinkin, waste no time & beam down here; firstname.lastname@example.org
Thursday, December 01, 2011
Not unlike the cyclical swarm of-say-the Cicada, every decade or so there's this deluge've releases what's hatched down on Terra Australis then unleashed into the world at large. And much like the clack 'n scree've said insecta, these bands kick up a whole lot've stridulation that is uniquely their own. And before you's say 'Captain Cook', it's EVERYWHERE. But a pestilence it is not. Quite the contrary. In fact, Senor Siltbreeze had a hand in some've the cultivation spawned towards the end've last decade.And he continues to keep his unique hemiptera antennae poised for any goings on via 27° 0' 0" S /133° 0' 0" E. But they's new eggs in the basket 'round the clock, now more'n ever. Ain't no way any one person/label's gonna keep up. And to that end, there's been a groundswell of newer, smaller DIY labels 'n distro's (both here & abroad)what's sprung up to fly the flag. I was tryin to explain it all to my Haitian buddy, Jean-Joe the other night over dominoes. He breeds roosters 'n sells'em around. Seems to do an alright business too. Said before he come to do it, folks'd drive as far as Okeechobee to get'em a bird. "So you see Boodbe", he explained w/a shrug, "your records & my cocks....they are not so different". We nodded in agreement. Can't says I'd ever had it put to me quite like that before, but he had a point!
Kevin Failure'd talked a blue streak about Drunk Elk afore I'd ever heard this record 'n while I reckon they's had a different approach at one time-says him-what it laid down on this 7" is alright by me. The vocal/guitar/organ sound conjures up a fetching austerity & if I didn't know it was crafted in Hobart, Tasmania durin this decade, I might've pegged'em as an MIA Z-Block entry, whose sanguine 'n subtle charms had recently been unearthed in a lost era Cardiff cupboard. But I am chuffed to know that Drunk Elk is of our time & look forward to more. And they's Pictish charms is duly noted. Contact;http://quemadarecords.blogspot.com/ for more info.
Listenin to this 7" from Muura reminds me of the time I tried to make Merzbow mow my yard. Well, it weren't mine exactly, but that's a long story, anyway, the point is he HATED bein asked to do ANYTHING. But there's no free ride on the Roland Woodbe express. You shoulda seen him; we walked down to the shed, I pointed to the mower, explained how to start it & showed approx. where to go & how much needed cut. Don't you know turned on his heel & stomped back to the house? Marched himself up the stairs 'n commenced to assemble his amps 'n noisemakers then proceeded to kicked up this squall've feedback that was just incredible! Oh brother, he was MAD! I could barely hear it over the roar of the Toro but what came through was direct, primal & heartfelt. All's of which takes me back to this Muura record. There's even passages on here where I swear I can hear some Moondog tugs in the harbor. Good crack this is & a handsome sleeve to boot. Get it via; http://www.tediumhouse.com/
And speakin've Moondog, the bunch what go by the name Sky Needle has a new one fresh off the press. Maybe it's them homemade instruments they flump, but the basic 'groove' is not too far removed from Louis Hardin's ambient scapes. They's also glow in embers still smolderin from the last, great Ralph Records clambake. From this distance it's hard to say exactly who they might resemble most in that stable, but I never claimed to be no Frank Johnston. And the stellar hand screened gatefold sleeves would make the slick designers at Pore No Graphics eyes buzz out in envy. Edition of 200, hit up the band direct at; www.skyneedle.org or email@example.com
The feller Brendon over at Negative Guest List is a busy budgie. Gots all manner've suds goin down; a fanzine, lp's, double lp's, singles, ep's, bookin shows, a bit of distro, that moustache....hey Mr. publican, gimme what he's havin! Can't say I's found no duds yet, but it did take me a minute to wrap my nog around Low Life's 'Sydney Darbs' ep. There was somethin sticky in the mix that hinted at Box Of Fish residue, but overall it moves along in very driven & dark tones what fantastically transported me back to the streets of London, circa 1982. There I tailed these 3 blokes whiles they's whispered sweet nothings into ears at Illuminated & Small Wonder, only to surrender the goods over a parsnip bundt cake (w/vegemite icing, yum) at the Crass compound. Makes sense. Shit, after all that imaginary walkin, even I was peckish! Dig this & all manner've Aussie product at; firstname.lastname@example.org
Also, these & many more releases can most likely be found via;