Monday, October 29, 2007

If Ya Don't Get At It When Ya Get To It, Ya Won't Get To It To Get At It Again.....Toronto's 'In Yr Disk' Label

Ah Toronto......magnet for the displaced Maritimer, home to the CN Tower, Lake Ontario, Bluejays baseball & YONGE STREET! Not to mention more lawyerin jobs & doctorin jobs that you could spew a stream of Molson vomit at. And bands, lot's 'n lot's of bands!. Or so says Kevin Hainey a fella what reads the Blog & took it upon himself to send me a packet of the city's (in his words) "fertile underground treasures". Okay, so maybe there ain't so many bands up there (& that plethora've lawyer & doctor jobs is sketchy too by all accounts) but somethin's goin on & that's a good thing, right? Well..... My memory of the 'Toronto Scene' is outfits like The Poles, Viletones, Diodes...basically shit that's ancient. And stoically Punk Rock. This new generation-while(perhaps) 'Punk' in spirit is decidedly noise (be it art, ambient or harsh) in delivery & product. Gastric Female Reflex I'd heard before, but the rest is new to me. Name-wise anyways. I mean, I feel like a worn out traveler down this noise path & while this one's origins hail from Ontario, it ain't a whole lot different from the ones I been up 'n down outta Michigan, New York, Western Mass, etc. That said, one of these cdr's features "William from Nurse With Wound" but that means about as much to me as sayin it's 'William from Mormon Tabernacle Choir". There's elements from all sort's of influences; concret, post rock, goth, sine wave, collage-scape, I dunno, it ain't terrible, but it ain't necessarily nothin to lose no sleep over neither (just like The Poles, Viletones or Diodes releases of yore). One called All Under Heaven had a nice, languorous post-blues loft to it that would fit well on the shelf next to them Children Of Microtones releases, but the rest.....I just hope they have a drawin board up there to Toronto big enough to fit everyone's next plan of attack. For's all I know, there might even be a number of bands & whatnot operatin under the same stratagem here in Philadelphia. If there is I implore you; PLEASE DON'T SEND ME NOTHIN! I mean it too. Thanks.
Now if this line of thinkin don't agree w/y'all, well, that's how the cookie crumble's sometimes. Kevin, thanks for thinkin of me & sendin down this batch of goin's on. It ain't my bag but I now know's a little more than I did this time yesterday. For any what's curious about these shenanigans from up The Big Smoke email; for further info.

Friday, October 26, 2007

Sing A Song Of Sixpence.....New Releases From S-S & Tropa Macaca

So much stuff is comin through the turnstiles it's hard to keep up. Plus, most've what's been received (lately) is worth a plug & yeah I'd like to devote more time to some but this job can wear a fella down. It's like my old friend Gustauv Stein is fond of sayin "a job is a job is a bunion". And he would know too. All day long he dresses up in colonial garb & shows tourists around the historic sites, poundin them cobblestone streets in some nasty-ass Pilgrim shoes. No thanks! Shin splints, bursitis in his knees (not to mention a constant rash & prickly heat from all them silly clothes) shit, it's a wonder we ever won that war of independence! But thankfully we did & I's got this blog to prove it, so on with the show.

S-S Records has been consistent this year in pumpin out pearls for us swine to behold & this new lp from Hue Blanc's Joyless Ones is no exception. Startin off w/a track that recalls a sideways swipe at 'Midget Submarines', it ain't long before they's off 'n runnin, spillin distended rock wreckage that at times stumbles forth w/the coffee-wine bravado of Axemen, the pone-ish charm of Gibson Bros. & the extracted, Blighty skiffle of Country Teasers. They call it 'Arriere Garde' & in my ear garden it grows & grows & grows. Pink Reason has spent his fair share of time extollin their greatness to me though I just weren't listenin hard enough then. But now I have & we're BOTH right in sayin; THESE GUYS GOT IT!
Also steppin out is 2 new 7"ers. Scott Soriano might be America's greatest Francophile since Julia Child, so since I'm in the midst of preparin some Foie Gras (sous vide of course), it seem fittin that I give this Le Club des Chants ep another spin. 'Yes Madame' it's called & ain't shootin no blanks. Their neo RIO pugnacity recalls the frantic, Dadaesque charm of ('Batelages' era ) Etron Fou Leloublan as well as other Rec Rec moths that effortlessly glide around the free-form flame.
The Nothing People deliver another keeper, this time flexin muscles that ripple like a buff Donnie Jupiter whose Twinkies have been spiked by Balco. 'In The City' goes the distance, provin that the Aliens in our midst still hover in & around the olive grove's of Cali's northern environs. The Roxy Music cover on the flip shows Nothing People to be suitably adept in Country Life, approaching 'A Really Good Time' in much the same way Alex Harvey might work on a plate of trotters & baked beans-ravenously! S-S keeps runnin up the score, this time w/a hat trick. Get'em via;

The Ruby Red Label over to Portugal has been ever so diligent in releasin all sort've racket from a variety've wooly fringers but my favorite of the bunch has been this 'Marfim' lp, a debut from a duo what's called Tropa Macaca. Skeletally resemblin Blue Control w/their penchant for mercurial loops & trance-inducing repetition, Tropa Macaca seem cut from the same cloth as well in their (seeming) appreciation for German Tape Music (Asmus Tietchens comes to mind) & hypnotic, minimalist Psychedelia. The a-side ('tronco nu') scutters & pulses along w/ extant Kraut-morse patter before slowly splintering into a quasar of Kluster responsive brilliance. The 2 tracks that make up the flip continually build on said pace/action & eventually evolves into an aggressive, extemporaneous march that recalls a 22nd century rework of Throbbing Gristle's 'Discipline' this time minus all pretense & lunatic babble. Billy Meyer can write all the love letters he wants on behalf've Rafel Toral, but Tropa Macaca are EASILY at the forefront as Portugal's BEST Avant electronics improvisers since Anar Band went their seperate ways. Only 300 pressed, try; for more info.


Wednesday, October 24, 2007

And Then There Were Nine.....2 New Releases On Siltbreeze!

The LAST 2 releases in the Siltbreeze 2007 Bonanza are now available. 9 titles in one year....who'd have thunk? Psychedelic Horseshit's debut long player 'Magic Flowers Droned' is lp/cd format, though we have ONLY LP's in stock. Alasehir's 'The Philosophy Of Living Fire' is LP ONLY. We only have a limited number of each title available for mailorder, so order soon or ye shall miss the boat. Prices are 15$ppd in US, 25$ elsewhere. Webpages have been set up for each respective band, so if you wanna have a gander at the gabble, you'll find'em in the Siltbreeze directory (under Catalog);

Wholesale orders (+ those interested in the Pyschedelic Horseshit CD) go to for further info.

Monday, October 22, 2007


While there's little doubt that the smart set will be in blissful attendance at the Unitarian chapel as Yo La Tengo run through an acoustic evening of Mills Brothers covers, the rest of you should come down to Big Jar Books & check out the ONLY PHILADELPHIA APPEARANCE by Sic Alps (& Mikey Wild). Hailing from San Francisco this eclectic duo have 4 stunning releases in the bins, the latest being a 12" ep entitled 'Description Of The Harbor' that is indeed a cover of a Strapping Fieldhands number (off 'The Caul'). Effortlessly combining the ethereal pop glamness of T Rex, the frantic, fuzzy mayhem of Swell Maps & the higher-key psychedelia of Tarkus, Sic Alps are here to put YOUR money where THEIR mouth is. We're not talking Little Tommy Tucker by any stretch & hopefully by the time they get started, we'll have had our supper. But I digress. Hands down, ALL the Sic Alps record's have been great & at a gig I saw them do this past summer in Oakland, Ca (opening for Times New Viking & Little Claw), they blew me away. The only way you could possibly be letdown is if you don't attend. So attend.
Opening the festivities will be our own Mikey Wild, making a RARE, off-South-Street appearance. Once referred to (by none other than Ian Dury) as 'A vegetable in Mother Nature's garden', tonight Mikey will be performing 20 minute's of unspecified originality. When I tell you that Mikey Wild will spare NO expense in providing you with unparalleled entertainment, I couldn't be any more serious if I were your Mom.
Show starts sometime after 8pm. Beer is gratis, a donation is MANDATORY.


BIG JAR BOOKS 55 North 2nd Street (between Arch & Market street's). For further info; call 215 574 1650

Also, check out for additional tour into, merchandise & mp3's

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Music For Pressure.....Breakdance The Dawn & The Advancement Of (The New) Australian DIY Crudophonics

None of us 'round here expect EVERY reader out there to cotton to all the releases what comes out on the label. It's nice when you's do but it ain't expected. Course it is curious when folks we know don't dig it, but there's no accounting for intellect or lack thereof. Our erstwhile buddy 'Moose' likes to think of himself as a tough nut, a real wheat from the chafe sorta guy w/a dead-on bullshit detector. What's the line about 'buyin you for what your really worth & sellin you for what you think your worth'? There's a little bit've that goin on where Moose is concerned. We's had him over to the house just a few nights back to watch the Indians clinch against the Yankees. It's a friendly rivalry between the 2 of us; I was rootin for Cleveland & he was for the Yanks. I got to teasin him about bein a front runner (cause he is), but he couldn't be bothered for a retort on account of the fact he had his head buried in a bucket've fried chicken I'd put out for us all to share. He must've consumed a dozen pieces of yardbird by himself. And this was after eatin an entire platter of deviled eggs, all on his own! We's got nary a one. He was swillin down the suds, gobblin away, alls the time screamin at the tv when somethin didn't go the Yankees way. "YOU SUCK" he'd spit ever so often, projectin blasts of saliva, bit's of chicken skin & Lord knows what other bacteria into the air & across the screen. He'd spilled beer all over himself at one point, on account that he had to get up & run over to the tv & shoot A-Rod the bird. Once the game was over (Indians won) I figured we could settle down to some record playin but he was too cantankerous to have any fun. He was wearin this shirt what read 'Number 1 Bad Ass' that had me in stitches, so while he was sittin there sulkin (he don't even like really baseball neither) I had to give him some good natured shit. 'What the fuck do you know?" he roared, "you guys put out that XNo bBqX lp, man what a pile of SHIT. Dude, ANYBODY can play like them. What do you think people aren't fuckin payin attention? C'mon! Hey, I dig primitive music as much as the next arbiter, but that was just garbage. You wanna hear a good record? Play that new 12" by Fucked Up. They got it goin on. I'm outta here". He wiped his face w/his shirt & off he went. Sorry Moose! What can you do? You either "get it" or you don't. I remember goin to this Joseph Beuys exhibit once. Just in front of me was this windbag who throughout the entire collection would audibly scoff "my KID could paint better than this"! I dunno, I think it's funny. I ain't gonna take time to sit here & defend Xno Bbqx (or Joseph Beuys). Hell, we's used to hearin such complaints. Dead C, Shadow Ring, Harry Pussy.....there's was as many a peep what cried about how "bad" they was what dug it & hunkered in. And now them bands is all canonized & copied. And as the copyist's have proven, anybody CAN'T do it & there is way too many examples of that to checklist here. Most of'em Moose probably likes. But I can tell you this; anybody's got an open invitation to try. Ain't that what the whole DIY aesthetic is all about? I think it was Mark Perry what wrote a manifesto of sorts in Sniffin Glue what outlined the basics/primitives of how one goes about formin a band. Sure, lot's has changed since 1976 or whenever, but that sentiment espoused back then ain't waivered a bit. One faction/outfit/collective what got it straight off was the Street Level bunch. Under said umbrella, label's like Fuck Off, Weird Noise, Organized Chaos (to name a few) functioned as arteries for bands such as Danny & The Dressmakers, 012, Bimbo Lunchbox & Androids Of Mu, which is only 4 out've (maybe) 4 dozen. Lot's of what they did come out on cassette or small run 7"ers & if you ain't never seen most of'em, well, there weren't many done & it was a long time ago. But in the last few yrs there's been a huge collectors groundswell for all that's obscure & DIY from them times & especially releases on these labels. The money some of these things change hands for is obscene but I guess if you got it, flaunt it. For those what's curious (& rich) enough to gain entry, this is an endlessly fascinatin world of sub-underground U.K. DIY splatter. As the last bastion of the 1% these bands/artists was true purist's to the cause & weren't about to be stopped by such boring rules as knowin chords, time changes, hooks or any of that. It was/is bashin away for the sake of makin a racket for personal enjoyment & for a few likeminded campadres in on the fun & action. It is a shame they ain't better represented nowadays & a boxset or series of re-releases wouldn't be the worst thing to happen. But until then, right under our very noses a similiar current scene has been takin place on a label down to Australia so here's your chance to get in on the ground floor. Breakdance The Dawn is a cassette/cdr label run by Matt Earle (of XNo BbQX 'notoriety') & has been unknowingly howlin a 21st century atavistic response to the Fuck Off call of yore. Originatin in 2004, the label's raison d'etre has been to release music 'that no one else would' (hey Matt, I hear ya!-Capt'n Siltbreeze) mostly on recycled tapes. But it seems that Matt & Co. have finally hauled in their huge cache of Toohey's empties & recieved a hefty deposit for the trouble as the label is primarily cdr nowadays. And man am I a fan! Like the entrants of the various Street Level mafia, I suspect there's lot's of folks what wear many hats in different bands/projects the label has to offer. Unlike a lot of the DIY labels operatin down to Oz (a shoutout to the great works available on Spanish Magic, Trapdoor Tapes & Inverted Crux), BDTD's headwater has a 'punk' 'rock' undertow, even if it is paleolithic. And that's what's so Goddamn great about it. You listen to The Minerals, Mosweintraub Band, Your Intestines or X Wave & you can hear the channelin(albiet unintentionally) of the Sell Outs, Wilful Damage, (the aforementioned) Danny & The Dressmakers + the rest of the lot. Of course, there's always a fly in the ointment & here's it's Arse Lunch that are the contrarians. On their 'Complete' 2xcdr opus, the gurglin, textured concret they course out sounds so bewitchingly contemporaneous yet classically avant, it's hard to know if it took 6 (dog) years or 6 (human) hours to conjure together. Call them the Colin Potter's of the bunch. In the immortal words of Thomas DeQuincey; "it's all good".
To date there's 52 titles what's been released. In fact, XNobbqX's 'Sunshine For Your Love' found it's origin here. Some might be out of print, but who knows, you talk sweet enough, Matt might make an exception. If you'd rather go the comp route & get a sprinklin of what there is to offer, Therhizomelabel has a BDTD cdr sampler available as well. It includes entries from all the bands done named as well as a few others what I'll leave as a suprise. And since we's on the subject, for all of you's what wrote & asked about that Son Of The Seventh Sister 3xlp lathe cut what got a mention in the Pulled Out post, it's now available on cd (via the Heard Worse folks). Breakdancin The Dawn is a label by the people, for the people & that includes ANYBODY curious enough to heed the call. True, it ain't the 2nd comin of X-Claim! & for that, we (w/the possible exception of Moose) can all be very thankful. So if your Chinese Junk is tootled up & ready to sail, head it south makin stops at; (for some advance tuneage), (to order BDTD releases), (to inquire about the BDTD comp) & (for the SSS cd + other interesting noise assortments)

Monday, October 15, 2007

Xanadu To Kubla Kahn; Are You Receiving?.....New Reviews!

I don't think I can no longer keep makin excuses why this column ain't more frequent, suffice to say that anybody readin the thing for a while knows I got many pokers in the fire. Actually had to use one the other day too. This box of "silk" I'd been expectin from Thailand had gone missin (via UPS) & nobody seemed to know or care as to it's whereabouts. The driver on my route's a jolly ol' thing, a portly blonde woman who I'd say is mid 30's easy. Doesn't give a SHIT neither. She'd leave stuff out on the step, make up signatures for things what ain't been delivered, all the time crowin about how she's Union & let's just see someone try & fire her. Most times I could give a pig's dick about her cavalier behavior, but I needed this "silk" to "weave" into "scarves" to drum up some walkin around money. Ms. UPS though, she couldn't be bothered. When I asked if she could trace it, she put on airs & talked to me like I was a retard. So I figured I'd fix her wagon, but good. I ordered me some shoes off Zappos & the next day when she came to deliver'em, MG grabbed her from behind the door, threw her left arm up the middle of her back & forced walked her down the basement where I had brandin iron heatin up in my impromptu 'fireplace".We got her trussed up & truth be told, I think she was actually gettin a little freaked. I seen a stain form around the crotch of them brown shorts. She started to cry & ask for her mommy & then she seen me comin w/that red-hot rod (which was almost white by this point) & let out one helluva scream! Good thing it was midday or else she've woke up the whole neighborhood. She got to squirmin & sweatin as I moved the brand closer to her porcine skin. Just before impact I popped the question about my box, she gave it up w/o a peep of sass. MG dug it out, brought it back, then we put it on the "sewing machine" to make sure it weren't short on the "measurement". Once we was square, I let her loose, showed her my custom made Beretta pistol (w/built in silencer) & whispered "have a nice day" in her right ear as I led her out to the truck. Couple days later we had a new driver. His name's Donny & you couldn't ask for a more hospitable fella. I asked him how he come by this route & he laughed. Said the previous driver had come in & told some crazy story about bein tortured, a box of pure opium & how she was almost branded then shot. She'd pissed herself, was shakin & babblin out of control. Said they thought she was havin a nervous breakdown, so's they went & had her sent to some rehab facility. Straightjacket, Thorazine, the whole bit! By the time he got to the end we was both laughin hysterically. We agreed all women is nuts & that drivin a brown stepvan dressed in a matchin short-set deliverin boxes all over creation was a man's job anyways. He's got a good attitude too, that Donny. Don't ask no questions, does his job & moves on. When I ask him how it's goin he always smiles & says "just another day in paradise, Mr. Woodbe". If there's a moral to be found in this story, I reckon it's don't kid a kidder. Jokes kill. Don't believe me, talk to General Santa Anna. If he hadn't been so "funny" down there to the Alamo, we wouldn't have no California now for Arnold Swarztnegger to be Governor of. Put that in your pipe & smoke it, you damn history know-it-alls.
But enough of my lecturin, how 'bout some record writin?

By now I'm sure every Psych-Pup down to the runtiest runt has had a chance to overindulge their appetite for bliss by suckin on one (or all) of the 5 milkly teats that is the new Wooden Shjips release on Holy Mountain. One by one everything they's done up to it was better than the last, so that this s/t full length blooms
like a desert oasis of mescaline cacti comes as a suprise to who? They also seem to tap everyone from Echo & The Bunnymen to Les Rallizes Denudes in the psychedelic mist & even the most wizened prospector can be made to feel like they's experiencin a mental shakedown at the hands of Lelan Rogers. Or at the very least, catchin a contact buzz off the vile, vile grass once huffed by Red Krayola. No, that this WS lp is a solid hardly comes as a suprise. If your lookin to get shook up, go get this new one on Holy Mountain by a Jap trio called Ainotamenishis. From Gunjogacrayon up to.....still.......the Japanese have had the most incredible knack for twistin 'n fusin punk, post & psychedelic rock into scrambled, almost sci-fi platters of apocalyptic euphoria. This one from Ainotamenishis (pronounced; Ainotamenishis) is but another frenzied, Toho-like monstrocity here to lay waste & wreak havoc on the sonic landscape. The name of some previous jabberers & pummelers of the cause have been bandied about elsewhere, but for me I was sold the second the needle locked into the 1st track ('Theme') & then preceeded to dust my nodes like Red Transistor's 'Not Bite' played (LOUDLY) at 16rpm. And it just gets better the more you burrow in. I guess this was previously available as a cdr from the band (in a miniscule edition), so referrin to this as one of the top reissues of the year might be splittin hairs, it wouldn't be hyperbole or an exaggeration. Just amazin. And to think I'd thought the curtain had been drawn a few yrs back in the land of the rising sun. But I was sufferin from a case of 'Premature Vagueness' & Ainotamenishis rightfully called me on it. Released in a one time viny-only run of 500, this one'll definitely be in my top whatever come end've 2007, find out more from &

When I opened the box for this 'Side Three Of The Moon' lp by an outfit called The Company I immediately got to thinkin it was probably some posthumous Derek Bailey recordings or somethin to that ilk. But then I got to spinnin it & readin the insert so (of course) I come to find out it's the mercurial goodness of none other than Ben Wallers & someone called Amir Shoat. Naturally it's got plenty of Rebel-styled lascivious wit 'n wisdom in place as well as tipped to the top w/playful synth/key snakery bustin out all over. There's also a perfect lost-in-time quality workin here, like if PIL's 'Fodderstomp' had been remade into a Crawling Chaos lp. Or, you could say this might also function as audio for a porn-vid of Bo Derek gettin a good hard shaggin from Beetle Bailey across the back of a naugahide couch after each of them have ingested a noseful of an unspecified Chinese aphrodisiacal powder then yodelin like insatiable Teletubbies. But Derek Bailey it most certainly AIN'T! Soothe your curious mind via; or

'Lonesome Drifter' might be the 4th release from Mammal but it's my 1st encounter & in a way, I'm glad it's here where's we made our aquaintance. Listenin to a previous release just the other night I was reminded of how hard it was to jumpstart that ol' lawn mower I had down to Paducah, not to mention conjurin up memories of how much I hate mowin to begin with. I mean, it could just as well have been anything outta the Ann Arbor/East Lansing axis. And anything's just another word for nothin left to do. So the 'brooding, psychedelic, loner blues', the 'new chapter in the story of Mammal' (alls his words) I found excitin. Here's a guy what want's to step it up, let the grimness "blossom" if you will. Not that Mammal won't harsh your mellow, no worries there. Recorded over a 6 month span of total isolation, Lonesome Drifter is simultaneously a soundtrack & requiem to the miasmic, industrial dischord of Detroit. The gloom this exudes is palapable. The compositions, langourous & epic. If Tyvek imbues a bizarro Keats-like lyricism in their harangue of the city's never ending blight, then Mammal is (ditto) Coleridge & 'Lonesome Drifer' his 'Christabel'. If your riflin through them cargo short looks for Cliff Notes, how about this; on the surface there's a heaviness that thuds Om-like (minus the "stoner metaphysic's") on here; both bands know how to grind bones, but in the end it comes down to desert vs. desert. Om seem complacent in their environment, Mammal on the other hand, would like to get-the-fuck OUT of his. But again, this is a requiem & a most compelling one at that. Truely GREAT double lp's are few & far between & from an all-hope-is-lost perspective, I'd say 'Lonesome Drifter' is right up there w/'This Skin Is Rust' by Twenty-Six what come out 10 (or so) yrs ago (on Bobby J.) & still hold's up to this day. True, the melancholia on this is way more scorched, but there's that...tranquility... in the way Mammal prophecises 'the end'. The more I think about it, think about when "it" comes, ain't that's what we's all want, in the end? I don't know where he's goin after this, but Mammal done blasted a grand slam on 'Lonesome Drifer' so if this IS it, he's goin out on top. Check out the show by goin to;

A couple little fella's what's got it goin on come my way recently too. Los Llamarada's follow up to their delectable debut lp (The Exploding Now') is a solid 2 banger out now on the S-S label. The a-side ('The Very Next Moment') is a fried chizzler that conjures up every Punk deviant from the Germs to Brainbombs while the flip is a cover of the Brenda Lee classic 'I'm Sorry' & in their futurisic attempt to convey a somnombulistic redo, they have effectively butchered it into the summer-bummer, goodbye hit for the twilight's last gleamin of 2007. Get it from;
Another label what keeps deliverin the goods is HoZac. One what I got is from an outfit called White Savage & their 7" of punk hysteria is indeed estimable. They open w/an original called 'Destroy Your Style' that ably recalls the tribal chaos of early Virgin Prunes while the closer is a cover of Teenage Jesus & The Jerks ('Orphans') that they chew off at the knees like a rabid cat blottered on scratch acid. These Hozac releases ain't in print for no more than a minute, so zoom over to
& see's if you's got a chance.