Friday, March 31, 2006

Highrise Dude Goes Shitty In Pantsy.....Asahito Nanjo's 'Greed' lp

A "solo" record from Highrise mainman Asahito Nanjo, homemade paste on jacket, #'d edition of 250......I don't have to tell you that going for my wallet to procure this was like a moth to a light. Even the 25$ price tag couldn't stop me. Even the fact that Makoto Kawabata-whose Acid Mother's Temple is one of the most supremely overrated bands going- participates couldn't keep this out of my mitts. No, I had to have it. In the words of Jon Anderson, I was "going for the one". Then I went home & played it. What I got was more like number two.
Supposedly 'Greed' is based on the 1st Ash Ra Temple lp ( or something to that effect) & you know what? I'll take their word for it. That's a pretty quiet record. 'Greed' isn't so quiet as it is thin. It's also mournful, plodding, turgid, brooding, directionless & under produced. Or if you like, it's a diner coffee version of a Fushitsusha lp.Maybe if I pranced around in leather & sunglasses all day long this might make sense to me. But right now the only thing that's making sense if how I can unload this & get my money back. If buying & collecting bellicose Japanese neo psych is the sort of thing that keeps your cash jumpin, boy have I got a bridge to sell you! Or go to

Thursday, March 30, 2006

Bourbon & Branch Water Is The New Thai Stick.....Valley Of The Ashes 'Cavehill Hunters Attrition' Triple LP

While we was cruisin up I65 on the way to our new home in Philadelphia, me & MG decided we was gonna spend a night in Louisville, Ky. Neither of us'd been there in forever; I think the last time for me was some Tubes concert in the late 70's & she said she'd once come there to stalk somebody from Circle X cause she wanted to steal his soul. Whatever! We get off the interstate & start lookin for a motel. Unbeknownst to us, a Piggly Wiggly convention was goin full tilt in the city & had a gridlock on everything. Howard Johnston's, Super 8, Best name it, it was booked. So we figured we'd bite the bullet & head downtown to the Seelback & the lap of luxury for a night. But when I asked about a room the sweet smellin, lavender scented man behind the front desk got one look at us & pointed his finger back the direction from where we'd came. I was fit to be tied & frustrated like a motherfucker. So I said "Hey mister can you tell me where a man might find a bed?" He just grinned & shook my hand. "No" was all he said.
But to hell with all that. There's plenty that's top notch about Louisville. They make a fine baseball bat, there's the Kentucky Derby, mint julep's & that cemetery where George Rogers Clark is buried. I think the Flavor Flav fella from Pavement make's his home there too. Well, you can add to the A list a collective who call themselves Valley Of The Ashes & whose entry into a certain exclusive club is a debut triple lp entitled 'Cavehill Hunters Attrition'.
To my recollection this is only the 3rd time I've encountered such a preposterous introduction. Chronologically (to me) the 1st was 1/2 Japanese's 'Half Gentlemen/Not Beasts' then Zweistein's 'Trip, Flipout & Meditation'. Of course the Zweistein thing is a concept so I guess you could say it needs the 6 sides to properly convey the head to toe experience. As for the 1/2 Jap box, there are those who will tell you the Fair Bro's should've condensed it into a single lp. But I can't imagine that release as anything other what it is; a 6 headed monster of unbridled, full tilt, spasmic beauty. And the same can be said for this VOTA package. I'm sure they had their detractors but they turned a deaf ear. As well they should. The languorous journey of 'Cavehill Hunters' glides through the mist of Nippon avant loner psych, across & beyond the fjords of cracked Scandinavian DIY folk & down through a fog where they are at once embraced by the continental space whisper of Gilli Smyth & the singular, non-industrial Anglo creak of early Nurse With Wound. All this while bein planted somewhere between a corn bin near the outskirts of Jefferson County & a liquor barge docked on the Ohio River. It's as marvelous & powerful as a bottle of Woodford Reserve & were you to mix the two, then you've got a party without boundaries. Which says to me 'chaperone'. You got my email. Drop me a line. I'd gladly man a tumbler for such a momentous event. Hell, I'd even crush some ice if ya asked me!
As for availability, I have it on good faith that these're en route to various distributors as I write. There's only 500, so strike while the iron's hot. Try

Wednesday, March 29, 2006

If Everyone Is Thinking Alike, Then Somebody's Not Thinking....Teenage Panzerkorps 'Gleich Heilt Gleich' 7" ep

I heard a snippet of this as a 3" cdr a few months back & was intrigued. I didn't catch any info about it other than they were called Teenage Panzerkorps & ya gotta admit, that's a pretty rad name. Tank battles on the Russian Steppes.....good times! You find someone who you can discuss the Battle Of Kursk with, the strengths & weaknesses of, say, the German PZ III J vs. the Russian T 34 (M42 to be precise) & we are talking many steins of Pilsen my friend. Sigh.....uh, what was I talkin about? Oh yeah, so I was stoked when I saw this listed on the Aquarius site. I'm sure there are those of you that'll somehow-inexplicably- be offended by the band's name & perhaps even by the sleeve art. Mein Gott, beendet es nie? Please.....go listen to a Vetiver cd & leave the rest of us alone. The grownup's want to play now. Thank you.
So the rub on this project is that it's a byproduct of the Jewelled Antler Collective & some German buds along for the ride, released on an upstart label outta RI. I dunno, the website says (among other things) something about "early Neubauten" but how early are we talkin about? Pre Zick Zack? I don't hear Neubauten so much as I hear a faint resemblance to that P.L.O. 7" from the early 80's. And it sounds like outtakes from a Savage Republic recording session (also checked on the site). Actually more than anything it resembles a Lichter side project 7", "lost" somewhere between the Bridge & the Them Rhythm Ants ep's. Let's call it IP 2.5. You know what? I was just shootin from the hip when comparin that stuff, then I just went & played'em all back to back (to back) & it holds up pretty well! I knew I was good, but shit, that's damn near dead on. So yeah, cool stuff. To me it's less the clang from a German bunker circa 1980 than the dissonant rumble out've a subterranean utility tunnel in LA the same year but you can't have everything. Where would ya put it? It's a limited release of 300 & available here;

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

Just Because I Hate It Doesn't Mean I Don't Understand It

Dear Readers;

I'm sorry but I will be out of town this weekend so the Siltblog will be silent for a few days. I've been invited to participate in the judging of a Billy Mays Lookalike Pageant in San Francisco & how could anyone say no to that? I mean, I just love it when the real one screams shit like "WOOD DRYS OUT"! & that Grabber commerical, where the old woman in a Rascal throws a ball with it for her dachtsund to fetch? Killer! Anyway, if it's a nice weekend (here in Phila) there will undoubtably be a sad little yard sale set up in front of our building. Feel free to come by & laugh or shake your head in disbelief at the collection of broken furniture, moth-eaten "vintage' clothes & worthless vhs & dvd's that will be littering the sidewalk. And if you pay particularly close attention, you will surely hear selected tracks from the following albums pulsing out've our apartment. Disco isn't dead. It's just waiting for the quaalude to come back.
Your Editor,
Roland Woodbe

Bionic Boogie-s/t
Paradise-Back To America
V/A-Disco Party
Chailo-Let's Skate
T Ski Valley-In The 80's
Kool Kyle Starchild-Do You Like That Funky Beat
Sylvester-Step II
Andy Gibb-Flowing Rivers
David Cassidy-Cherish

Monday, March 20, 2006

Excuse Me While I Kiss This Guy...Alan Watts And Friends, 'This Is It' cd

"This Is It' is regarded by many of the who's who of psych fanatics as the first aural document of psychedelic. It is a plundering, blistering, freeform freak-out of totally unselfconscious group sonic exploration. If you don't find yourself with that rare facial twitch of awe, befuddlement and unbridled glee, then you surely need your head checked". (Locust Music)

I'm not sure why I decided that I needed to buy this, but it had been one of those things I'd heard about forever. You know; holy grail acid psych, totally amazing higher key, EXTREMELY RARE, blabbiddyblahblahblah. Okay okay, I get it. So I pick up a copy & check it out. What did I think? Let me put it this way-if it had been one of those cute little Invisible Jukebox tests like you see in WIRE, I would've wondered aloud if it weren't a Glamorous Pat cdr. Or barring that, an aural blackmail tape from some sad artist's loft party where all the women have split & the guys have chortled down enough booze to drink themselves gay. Don't tell me you've never walked in on one of those. Jesus! A bunch've vain & erudite dudes, totally sausalito'd, hangin all over the place 'n each other, actin & talkin like Gary Oldman in Dracula. But of course, they won't shut up because they think everything bein said is brilliant.The talk get's louder & more incoherent till it's a big din of gibberish. And then they start battin their eyes & askin you questions. No thanks! Given the choice, I'd probably be more comfortable with Glamorous Pat. And you know what? It's doubtful that it'll ever rain that hard. Ever!
That's what this cd sounded like to me.
Alot've the text on & about this cd falls all over itself to mention time & again how "unselfconscious" & "unpremeditated" it is. Alright, but it's still incredibly pretentious. And naive. I realize it's 1963 on here & only the rich & elite are capable of procuring lsd but all the same, if I wanna listen to a bunch've blabber & baby talk from some loopy intellectuals, I'd just a soon listen to my neighbor (who teaches at Penn) & his wife speak to their pet Mastif, Mr. French. Years ago I would've bought right into all the baloney & shenanigans on this thing. Just like I bought into the Erica Pomerance lp on ESP, another "experience" known for it's plundering, blistering freeform freakout. But that money just don't spend no more. I used to think it was intensely great. Now it just sounds hilariously bad. Granted, there's an innocence w/Watts & co. on This Is It that you don't find on the Pomerance thing (beep,beep! term paper theme!), but at the end of the day the rare facial twitch of befuddlement I get when I play this cd is not from laughing with it, but at it. And my head's fine by the way.
Sorry Al. I like your books though.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Endless Boogie To Baseball Abstract; Tell Your Pythagorean Statistics To Shut Up

You don't have to be on board with the New York Mets to appreciate their rock & roll traditon. For instance, did you know that Art Shamsky & Lou Reed were tight bros back in the day? Or that the seed money to finance the legendary Watkins Glen Festival was fronted by an investment group called JM Partners, who were none other than Jon Matlack & John Milner? They say that Hojo wore his lucky Antietam t-shirt all through the '86 NLCS & World Series. Look what happened! And by now it's pretty common knowledge that Mike Piazza liked to listen to everything from Queen to Klaus Nomi before & after games. If your a fan like Belle & Sebastian, these kinda stats are gonna make ya wanna wave a towel. For fans like Endless Boogie, they're gonna snap it.
Grease Control, Top Dollar, Memories From Reno & The Guvernor......four dudes that deal in manly vibes & tasty action. And serious Mets fans to boot. One of'em even looks like Dave Kingman! For them, practice is as much about listenin to the game as it is carryin a tune. If John McGraw was runnin the music business, Endless Boogie'd be pokin Eric Clapton & THe Rolling Stones w/the shit end of the stick. But alas, that ain't the case. And not because of this injustice, they recorded & released two stupendous lp's of highly fortified improvisational rock slather that less than a thousand people have had the chance to own. How many of the under privileged follow the Mets is unknown but let me tell you this; If Pete Rose had slid into Endless Boogie instead of Bud Harrelson in game 3 of the '73 NL Playoffs he'd be in the Hall Of Fame now. Because he'd be dead! And another thing; when Endless Boogie were born, the nurse looked at'em & said' Oh my God, it's Endless Boogie' & slept with them. At that point she had become the 3rd woman to sleep with Endless Boogie. Talk about chops! You don't get that kinda virility w/a shot from Balco.
Amex holders bandy around names like Coloured Balls, Groundhogs & Peter Green era Fleetwood Mac when they describe the Endless Boogie sound. ATMers mention Thin Lizzy, Foghat & the like. Someone w/a Discover card chimed in w/the Velvets. I dunno, listenin to Humble Pie's 'Live At Fillmore East' the other day I thought of'em. Not a cent on me either! So what's that say? Well, like any good team they're aware of those who've preceeded them. Their rock is solid & fundamental & they can stroke it both in & outside the park. Like the old man said "The team with the most runs wins the game" & Endless Boogie put up a lot of fuckin runs.
And it works well in the live setting too. There's no head swagger or dramatic facial contortions. The strategy is straight ahead, pitch'em knee high & inside 'n back it up by hittin it where they ain't. Someone recently opined to me that they weren't the most exciting band to watch live. Alls I can say to that is neither were Television & people won't stop talkin about them! As far as I'm concerned, Tom Verlaine could be a Yankees fan, but I don't care enough to look at Legs McNeil's MySpace page to find out for sure. Waiter, check please!
So like I said before, gettin their records might be a chore. Fortunately for all of us, Brian Turner had the good sense to invite'em on his WFMU show towards the end've last yr. You can check out their sonic snarl in his archives at
Or if stubborn's your bag, you can see what might be available vinyl-wise at

Tell'em Felix Milan sent ya.

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Waiting For Good Tunes... Espers 'The Weed Tree'.

The 1st time I ever thought about what a Bar Mitzvah might sound like was while listening to Espers. Ostensibly I had gone to hear Jack Rose pick lint off his guitar strings, but arrived early enough to catch the Espers set. I'd never heard of them. I asked someone who was playing. They whispered "Espers". I thought they said "vespers", which means a prayer or some church thing. But Espers doesn't mean anything! Can I get an "I hear ya!" on that? Anyway, yeah, a Bar Mitzvah. What more need be said? They also reminded me of some old coots who played in my grandmother's library once when I was a kid. Not musically or anything, but in both instances I was polite enough to stay awake for the entire set. I don't care what you say, manners are important. It's a good thing they don't let (real) retarded people into their shows. There would be a lot more sleepyheads at the bar if that was the case! Talk about a buzzkill. Which brings me to the record at hand. I can't say why they chose this particular set of songs to cover. Maybe they thought it was clever, or funny or something. I will say this: that Greg Weeks is one clever bro! I mean, to whistle up a band & connive an entire generation that baroque, chamber music is cool & hip? Bravo, Greg, Bravo. He's like the Peter Jefferies for the 00 decade. And another thing; 2 of the women in this band are incredibly striking. One looks like the Yul Brynner robot in Westworld w/a cancer wig. The other resembles an Amish Heather Graham. Talk about funny! I know it's ironical, but still, forewarned is forearmed. People have been known to die of laughter. Okay, so covers of Blue Oyster Cult, Durritti Column, Nico, Michael Hurley, ad naseum. It's like saying " NOW WE HAVE DECODER RINGS"! From the coonskin caps of Brattleborough, Vermont, to the snuffy whiskers of New York City across the prairie to the alpaca toques of Portland, Oregon, the New Weird America will be falling all over themselves to bestow their highest accolades to the genius of Greg Weeks and The Espers. Buying a tofurki won't be so easy after this set of songs comes out. Not since Other Music had the audacity to sell a Little Feat record for $20.00 has anyone had the unmitigated gaul to do something so untoward as to reduce a BOC song to nothing more than the mournful background music for some poor Yids Shiva. I can admit here: no amount of strings, whether they be cello or guitar, can make the Durutti Column even remotely interesting. If Michael Hurley ever hears their cover of "Blue Mountain" it will be a race between him and the rattlesnakes as to who spends the rest of their lives hiding in embarassment inside the cab of some of old car he has marooned on cinderblocks in his front yard. And Nico died riding a bike. Right? People ride bikes in Philadelphia all of the time! As for the rest of the songs, well, the less said the better. Let the French decipher the brilliance of their choices. They're good at that sort of thing. I should know. I am from France.

Samuel Beckett

Friday, March 10, 2006

Chapter 9, In Which The Rebel's lp "PRAWNS" Is Discussed In The Form Of A Letter From Lady Pembroke To Her Lover, Mustapha Kunt....

My Dearest Kunty;

You have only just left my boudoir but still I am a quivering mass of giddiness. With every visit you continue to open the doors of my unconscious eros. How I long to immerse myself in your man musk & bodily oils. The salt of your fluids is akin to the purest absinthe to ever cross my lips. When you demanded that it was time for a tea bagging, naturally I thought you were taking into account my English heritage & our proclivity for tradition. I had no idea that was what you meant! When you climbed on top of me, straddling my alabaster face with the firmness of your savage loins, I was as dizzy as a kitten in a tree. The sweat that drizzled down from your jewel purse, into my mouth & down my throat exploded with the flavor of a piquant licorice that had been soaked in an ancient brine. A Godlike nectar, a lozenge of love lolling in my desperate maw. And then you exploded, christening me in a warm bath of gooey Turkish taffy, "hot off the press" as they say. I shall never think of Earl Grey so innocently again.
And also my love, our "session" record was extraordinary as well. The Rebel eh? I am vaguely familiar with his work in Country Teasers. Lord Pembroke likes to amuse himself playing their records as he shuffles around Puddingstone Manor. He says he is chuffed by their sense of mirth. If only the dreary old sod knew how devilishly alive I felt now listening to the soothing chaos of 'Your English' jumbling out've the stereo. The track 'What About Us?' could almost be a bridge between Ivor Cutler (RIP) & that rascally yank, Jerry Reed. Really! You didn't think I'd been listening to your American Country & Western records did you? Well I have. And I have the most amazing figment; you could be Jerry Reed & I could be Skeeter Davis. We could sing songs & mock each other, drink bourbon, take barbituates & make believe. Oh Kunty, isn't Prawns just the most brilliant album?! It makes me want to do nothing more than anything else. I'm also especially smitten w/his whole German fascination. The bloody sausage eaters! Oddly enough, while listening to the track 'Hitlers & Churchills' I could hear the unmistakable squawk of a parrot from off the telly. It was Churchill's pet Macaw, Charlie, repeating 'Fuck Hitler!' & 'Fuck The Nazi's!" at ear splitting levels. It's 104 years old! Oh darling, isn't The Rebel a genius! We must buy more of his records. He makes me feel like...... Ich bin auch ein Rebel, meine Liebe. Grrrrrrr........mein Liebe! That porcine talk get's me so randy!
But it is now time to bid adieu sweet Kunty. You & The Rebel have illuminated my once somber life & now there is a brightness, a glow, that permeates my entire body & soul. The Rebel has intensified my mind & you, my lust & desire. Tomorrow as we listen to 'Ham House Of Horror', I want you to chuck all inhibitions & penetrate me. Thrust hard, I want it to feel like Rommel driving deep into Egypt. Goodness knows Lord Pembroke is incapable of such carnality. It takes a Turk to do that.



(Lady Pembroke)

All releases by The Rebel available from;

Thursday, March 09, 2006

Times New Viking To Tour! Sez To March Madness Fans, "Bite It You Scum"!

First a website & now an actual touring band? Definitely not your grandma's Siltbreeze. Hello everyone I am Mister Muggs, director of Ukiah Booking & on behalf of Times New Viking & Siltbreeze Records I'd like to hip you to the upcoming SXSW/West Coat tour dates for TNV. Here goes;

3/11 Dayton, OH- Canal Street Tavern (w/Heartless Bastards) 9pm

3/16 Austin, TX-Furniture Residence (w/The Rebel, Jada Hunter, Indian Jewelry, Grey Daturas, Elctro Shockbox, Daniel Francis Doyle & Make Arising) 1PM EVENT!

3/18 Austin, TX-SXSW Event @ Velvet Spade Patio-11pm

3/21 LA, CA-The Scene (w/Headache City & Cococoma) 8 pm

3/23 Sf, CA-The Eagle Tavern (w/Hank IV, The Fucking Ocean & Three Weeks Clean) 8pm

3/24 Sf, Ca- The Hemlock (w/ Residual Echoes & The Stabs) 8pm

3/25 Oakland, CA-Granma's House (loft party)@2002 Myrtle St (w/Helios Creed's Chrome, Rubber O' Cement, Sixes & Josh Taylor's Friends Forever) 8pm

3/28 Seattle, WA-Rendevous Jewelbox Theater (w/Jordon 'O Jordan & The Sea Donkeys) 8pm

3/31 Minneapolis, MN Hexagon (w/Stnnng & The Dad In Common) 8pm

Make sure to check back for adds to this list (hopefully).

Thanks to; Tony B, Craig, Edgar, Monty,Jason, Hisham, Clint, MSG & Rob.

The Chronicles Of Gnar-Gnar. Residual Echoes 'Phoenician Flu & Ancient Ocean' lp

I'd be the first to admit that a few of the people in my immediate stratosphere-when it comes to music-wouldn't know their ass from their elbow. For instance, the few times I have played this lp in the company of others all I hear is how it's "just like" Comets On Fire. But not as good. Wha? Excuse me for payin attention, but I doth protest to such a myopic comparison. Okay, so their both outta Santa Cruz & coated w/some desert smoke, but that's about as far as it goes. To me Comets On Fire seems tailor made, like one of those yellow, marshmellow hen's "hatched" around Easter. It's trad. Residual Echoes by comparison are like one of those LSD spiked caramels you always hear about around Halloween. It's trad too. But it's also mythic. It's like comparin Scientology & The Process Church. One claims Tom Cruise as a member. The other, Son Of Sam. Which one would you investigate first? Thanks, I knew you'd see it my way.
Movin on, this is the 2nd release for RE (both on Holy Mountain) & arguably posesses a second chin full've art damaged, prog & ur metal rock flesh since the debut outing. Not that they're any easier to grasp. Go ahead, give'em a yank, but try holdin on. No can do chief. The heaviness that exudes outta this lp is at once ahead of the pack & simultaneously harkens back to some squall of yore. Sure there's a lot've big hooks that bely their desert aesthetic, but there's also a lot of grubby burrowin around that sounds like it could be a Chrome record released on the Pass label, or Gunjogacrayon w/Damon & Helios at the helm. Imagine a record w/the lumbering, prog metal lurch of the latter hardwired w/the stuttering punk short circuitry of the former. You got yourself an honest to goodness monster on your hands! The kind that is gonna seriously fuck some shit up, be it in a desert or a downtown.
So far the live carnage has only been on the West Coast, but I suspect it's only a matter time 'fore they make their way to these parts to mangle some synapses. Who could we put up against'em? How about Major Stars? Talk about epic! Now that's the sorta sonic bloodbath I wouldn't mind splashin around in. Until then I gotta hold tight w/this here record. And plan some escape routes. These guys don't seem the sort that give any quarter. You can find their releases here;

Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Pass The Ketchup, I Think I'M Morrie....Cheeseburger & 'Gang's All Here'.

First off, I wanna say when I seen these guys a couple months back, I thought they were pretty rad.The only reason I mention it is 'cause they were openin for some band called Diamond Nights & it wasn't free to get in so whose gonna show up-& PAY-to see 2 nobody bands even though they'd come all the way down from Brooklyn? Ha ha, not me! I found a discarded pizza box, sorta held it just so & went to up to the doorman & said I was makin a delivery. Don't you know he let me right on in! No id, no nothin, hell, you'd a thought I was some kinda VIP the way he scooted me through that door. I just made my way down a bit & then into the band room, walked back to where there was a kitchen/lounge area, set that pizza box on a table, wheeled around & made my way out to see Cheeseburger.
And they put on a helluva show too. Like I said, there weren't hardly any people in the place & the chubby little singer seemed upset & kept makin "jokes" about it. His wit was a blend of sarcasm, depreciation & bitterness. He was like a portly Alan Sues w/the banter. At one point he ripped "do you assholes know any good jokes?" & somebody shot back "Cheeseburger!" & I though Tubs was gonna cry. He got real mad & then the band kicked into a song & he shot across the stage like a lard-filled Jackie Rogers Jr, beltin out somethin about cocaine. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He looked real familiar to me but I couldn't place it. Anyway, they played for a while longer, he made fun of the audience some more & then it was over. I bought one of their ep's from the drummer & split.

So finally the other day I decided to play the thing. I'd forgotten I had it! I kept lookin at chubs on the cover & that face...I couldn't figure out where I knew him from. I play the record & it's good, like a slow pitch softball cross between the Stooges & AC/DC. The song about cocaine ('Cocaine') starts it off & all the way through it's a solid 6 song ep. Especially liked the title track w/the sax work on it. Then it hit me....the guy looks like Morrie from Goodfellas! You remember; the fat, nebbish guy, he sells merkins, that wants to be a gangster? That's him! Go ahead, tell me them two don't look exactly alike. And my name ain't Roland Woodbe.

And that's that. Whew! I'm glad I finally figured it out. Morrie Kessler.....fuckin 'A! Great cover, great ep. Lot's of crunch 'n blabber. Check on it here;

Monday, March 06, 2006

Superfuzz Bigmuff......Mudhoney Is Chilliwack. High Speed & The Afflicted Man's 'Get Stoned Ezy'.

I know I know, shitty picture. But it's better'n anything I'd have found on the internet. Good luck searchin for an image of this fuckin thing there! It's rarer than hen's teeth. Or at least it was. I've been searchin for this record for the equivalent of 100 dog years, ever since a knowledgeable humbug passed it off in reference to the Highrise II lp back in the pony express days of the early 90's. And now here it is, or at least a reissue of it. My eyes just about exploded when I saw it in the A section at the Record Exchange. But the prospector behind the counter calmed me down a little by sayin it was a "boot". He said the original didn't have an image of a commode w/a flyin V guitar on it (like this one) & that it wasn't really "Made In Italy" as this copy claims. I guess that explained why it was only 10$. Still, it seemed like a fair price for such an obscure document. It was as close as I was ever gonna get. Sold!

Afflicted Man (or Afflicted) was the charming moniker of a Londoner by the name've Steve Hall. Up to this outing, Afflicted Man's style could best described at stock-in-trade Brit DIY w/an almost Street Level sort've quality to it. Then at some point Hall lost the Afflicted tag & went on to the Accursed, which was a decidedly Nation Front styled punk trio who knocked out (at least) 2 lp's. And somewhere between that transformation came this amazing anomally. Too freaked out for punks, too punked out for freaks, 'Get Stoned Ezy' is a bloodbath of pedal stomping carnage. Recorded & (originally) released in 1982, it must've felt like a rusty safety pin stuck straight through the heart of whatever DIY fanbase Hall had aquirred. And for all the Pink Fairies or Hawkwind type's that mighta come across it, it was too primitive & animalistic for their quid. And forget about the psych & prog clowns. To them this must've seemed like a soundtrack to the Manson Family. In a country where the pigeonhole is everything, this record wouldn't play by the rules, was deemed "esoteric" & banished into the fog. See ya!

But here it is, 2006, & out've nowhere this reissue seems to have appeared. Listening to it over & over, I could hear where the Highrise comparison came from. Thing is, High Speed & Afflicted Man seem way more protein deprived than Highrise. Too much fried fish & pint've bitters. Highrise have a way-on that lp-of tappin their talent buttons so it sounds like their inducing fuzz 'n feedback from all over the room. And the pacing is quicker too. 'Get Stoned Ezy' by comparison is about a gigantic discharge of static energy. When Hall lands his foot on the pedal, it's like an arc carbon exploding, showering you w/shards & sparks of mangled wah-wah rock. It's not about finesse. It's about pummeling you till ya drop. The back of the record even states, 'warning: this record is very powerful and could give you earhole damage'. A joke perhaps, but no more so than Mudhoney or any Black Flag record w/Henry Garfield as the singer. Ding, hello!

So as far as this & Highrise bein in the same boat, I'd say okay, but it'd have to be a pretty big boat. That said, I'd highly recommend this lp to anyone out there who'd wanna hear an approximation of what Saint Vitus would've sounded like coverin Les Rallizes Denudes . Or Vice Versa. Imagine that!

Yeah, High Speed & The Afflicted Man. 'Get Stoned Ezy' it's called. Can't imagine it's gonna be around for long-again- so grab it while ya can. Not that I know how you go about gettin a copy, but you might try here;

Friday, March 03, 2006

Asses Are Made To Bear, And So Are You. A Moment With The Sea Donkeys

Like most good things, buyin this required nothin more than a tug of curiosity. I was killin time in a local record store when I came across this lp sittin all lonely-like in a sad, little bin marked "new". There were really no more than a handful of lp's in it, the other's I didn't pay much mind to except I saw they were on labels like Merge & Drag City, but this record was devoid of any info. Plus from the looks of it, whoever was involved had a, shall I say, salacious eye for cover art. I asked the clerk what he knew about'em. He turned down the Josephine Foster cdr he had wafting through the store & very evenly told me he knew nothing about the record other than that it was on Abduction & that is was probably Sun City Girls related. That was good enough for me. I plunked down the coinage & away I went.
On first listen I figured clerky was right; on the surface it did sorta resemble some crazy SCG excursion into a ribald, communal netherworld. But it sounded too shambling, too feral. The ooze lactating outta this record was undistilled & pure. By the time I got through their cover of "Barracuda' I had a sketched out a line of Sea Donkeys action figures + an assemblage of possible costumes for'em as I was inducting'em into an alternate Hall Of Justice League. Here they would fight boredom & clear rooms alongside other erstwhile vigilante inductees such as Virgin Insanity & John The Postman. And hey, even if it was just a big Sun City Girls inside joke, well, then how's the world a worse place? I'd just attach some of them Muslim face-capes & nobody''d ever know the difference. Win/win is a strategy I can relate to.
Then in Jan., fantasy gave way to reality when the Sea Donkeys came to town. There was girls in the band, but not them girls. And so a mystery is solved! Opening for Times New Viking in some miserable venue in the Fishtown, the Sea Donkeys shivered the timbers off most of the the bleak & hollow-eyed hipsters who'd wandered in to see what kind've commotion was gonna take place. A willowy, reed-thin woman w/a donkey mask hoisted onto her head ripped into a sax w/such stunning velocity it was like the spirit of Albert Ayler had been conjured outta Slugs & into a room full of'em as a fair number of the limp audience drifted into the bar area to watch a football game their team wasn't playing in. But no matter as the Sea Donkeys proceeded to whip up a batch of minstrelsy, mayhem & malarkey that was ripped straight from the loins of Artaud's Theater Of Cruelty & flung-like a duck meat boomerang- out over the nogs of the few payin peeps still in attendance only to come crashing back w/such force that the boomerang exploded, coverin the stage w/stringy morsels of the delicious victual. The band-literally-ate it up & left the stage, lickin fingers, thumbs 'n faces so as to savor every last nth of their carnivorous pageant. It was a helluva spectacle & made me hungrier than the dickens, so I lit out over to Haunches for some crab filled jalapeno poppers. People later told me Times New Viking was good. I told them that they hadn't lived till they'd had a hot pepper full of crabmeat. Just another detente in the city of brotherly love.
As for the Sea Donkeys lp, it's titled Volume 1. I reckon that means there's more to follow. I like it fine & know it ain't for everyone. They do too, as there's only 300 pressed. For the hardcore among you that believe Lord Buckley shoulda never left Gong, then this lp is the cross-eyed tippler to tend your rum collection. You can buy it here;

Thursday, March 02, 2006

Would You Eat The Moon If It Were Made From Ribs? Meatus Murder's 'More Songs About Balling And Food'.

So a little backstory is in order. I found this thing plunked down inside an empty box of Girl Scout cookies behind the computer in the Siltbreeze "office" while I was cleanin the other day. Ya know, I'm just tryin to do my job, but when the area is filled w/empty Mallow Cup wrappers (sans coupon of course) & discarded bags of half eaten Andy Capp hot fries-not to mention all the empty cartons of chocolate milk-it get's too goddamn depressing to even try & think. I mean, what a fuckin pig! So I'm trashin the fat fuck's excess when I come across this box. I shake it to make sure that it's empty but I hear something rattlin around. It don't sound like a cylinder of cookies so I dump it on the desk to see what's what. It's this Meatus Murder cdr. I figured it was some porn dvd that ol' Lardass was hidin ( I mean, look at the cover. It's rather suggestive. And what the hell is it doin in a cookie box?). I got to readin the insert & realized it was a cdr of somethin, but the writin was so cryptic & inside, I didn't know half of what I was readin. I figured I better give it a listen. Well, I wasn't prepared for what I was about to hear. How do I explain it? Okay, imagine that the Meatus Murder folks are the Japanese Imperial Navy & Pop Culture is Pearl Harbor. These guys just divebomb the livin shit outta everything! Sports figures, tv & movie actors, rock stars, fast food & beyond, all done as interpretations of songs name it; The Animals, Bowie, Lou Reed, Joy Divison, Orange Juice, et al. Wire's slashing 'Three Girls Rumba' is reduced to a pickling recipe. New Order's "Love Vigilantes' becomes an indictment on Popeye's Chicken. Some fuckin Nick Cave song is now an ode to Garfield (& not the Henry Rollins one either). No one is spared. If hilarity is a guillotine, then 'More Songs About Balling And Food is a comedic Reign Of Terror. In the words of that ol' Jacobite, Robespierre "Omlettes are not made without breaking eggs". Dude, I hear ya!
If your the sort that thinks Culturcide's 'Tacky Souvenirs Of Pre-Revolutionary America's is still a hilarious, scathing commentary on the chicanery of big business monkeys, then it's time you logged in for a hot new injection of spear chucking courtesy of Meatus Murder. Contact'em here';