A Splice of Life

FACTRIX - Scheintot (1981)

As Thee Olde Adage goes, "if influence translated into record sales," (see: Underground, Velvet) San Francisco-based industrial pioneers woulda raked in some 'o the ducats pocketed by the likes of Throbbing Gristle and Cabaret Voltaire. As it is, they barely had a pot to piss in during their brief existence that lasted from 1978-83. Comprised of Bond Bergland, Cole Palme, and Joseph T. Jacobs, all of whom had done time in thee equally underrated avant-garde electronic outfit, Patrick Miller's Minimal Man, they would leave us with "Scheintot" and "California Babylon," a collaborative effort with Monte Cazazza, before vanishing forever.

Mebbe Ted Kaczynski, in his deluded, luddite way had a point-- technology does suck. With their manipulated tape loops, "found sounds" (tea kettles, pennywhistles and the like are credited as instruments), primitive synth-thud and buzzing moogs, Factrix still sound more groundbreaking--- but more importantly-- dangerous, than what passes for industrial music these daze. For example, "Ballad of the Grim Rider" (whatta title!) has an ethereal, yet churning mix of analog electronics and scraping, treated guitar that every one of those pathetic, digitized Marilyn Moronites should be striving for (alas, that would require far too much creativity on their parts, so I'll shaddap). And the vocals! Hazy, buried in the mix yet perfectly intelligible, they bring to mind the utterances of a disillusioned ghost railing against the stupidity of mortals... they ooze outta the din unlike any LP I've yet heard.

This is music best listened to when regaining yer bearings after a Lost Weekend. There's bottles of booze you don't remember drinking littering the living room, the ashtrays are overflowing and smoldering; mebbe even a few people sleeping on the floor whose names escape you... yet paradoxically, "Scheintot," in its otherworldly way, provides a psychological anchor to Terra Firma.

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Ugggh!! Heeeey!

VARIOUS - In Memory of Celtic Frost (1996)

As Ye shouldst know by now, tribute/covers albums are dicey propositions at best. You can count yer damn self lucky if there happens to be one or two heartfelt renderings of tuneage ya hold dear. Worst of all, there's always at least some jackoff hipster band that decides to be all "clever" and do a disrespectful "interpretation." Y'know, those oh-so yawn-inducing "lounge arrangements" and the like. But believe me when I tell you that this here collection actually fucking works. The bands involved have undoubted passion for the material, and they've obviously been heavily inspired by Frost & Hellhammer-- and that's coming from someone who thinks of Tom G. & Co's early works as a listening experience bordering on religion. For over two decades now... fuck I'm old.


Thee Culprits:


1 Morgion - Innocence and Wrath / The Usurper
2 Enslaved - Procreation (of the Wicked)
3 Slaughter - Dethroned Emperor
4 Mayhem - Visual Aggression
5 Inner Thought - Morbid Tales
6 Sadistic Intent - Return to the Eve
7 Cianide - Dawn of Meggido
8 Divine Eve - Visions of Mortality
9 Grave - Mesmerized
10 Apollyon Sun - Babylon Fell
11 Opeth - Circle of the Tyrants
12 Closedown - Danse Macabre

Note: Be sure to stick around for thee two hidden bonuses-- Wimp...er...Emperor's take on "Massacra," and all-femme sludge outfit 13's version of "Triumph of Death."

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Leady to Lock 'n' Loll?

LOUDNESS - Disillusion (1984)

So here's the scene: it's 1985 (???, the drugs are finally catching up with me), and three scraggly, denim-attired teenagers are off to see their then-heroes, Thee Crüe, rip into an hour or so of their dime store brand of costumed rebellion. They were completely ignorant of thee Nipponese opening act-- an outfit by thee handle of "Loudness" (they were also unaware of thee utter suckage of Motley's "Theater of Pain," and their fruity tour garb, but I digress). Imagine our surprise when a pint-sized dude jumped outta thee darkness, with hair that made him stand at least six feet tall (you do the math), screaming, "Harrrrrrro, Muddddaaas!!" We didn't know whether to laugh or pump or fists--- that is, until they launched into a little number that went something like, "Locky Loll Clazy Nights," then we wuz hooked. Turns out it was called "Crazy Nights," and appeared on their semi-hit LP, "Thunder in the East," as fine a slab of sugar-coated pop metal as has ever been released-- but far from their magnum opus. That title belongs to 1984's "Disillusion."

The band's first few records (The Birthday Eve, Devil's Soldiers, Law of Devil's Land) were sung entirely in Japanese, and had kinda patchy tunesmithing, but this is where they got everything right. Check out "Butterfly"-- the same sorta mini-epic Rush had perfected on "A Farewell to Kings," complete with chiming, Lifeson-esque arpeggios and over-miked (and some would say, "overused") toms... yet it has an atmosphere that still sounds so completely alien... brilliant! Particularly exhilarating is thee inhuman shredding of Fret Wizard Arkira Takasaki-- the man sounds like he's got ten fingers on each hand! He also has a knack for knowing when to lay back before he dumps a few tons of complex riffage on your sorry ass. His storming style is what adds (much) needed color and urgency to lazy, KISS-style arena anthems like "Crazy Doctor" and "Satisfaction Guaranteed," morphing what woulda been harmless throwaways into sublime examples of classic eighties metal-- and make no mistake: the material on this beast is 100% metal, no hairspray required (or wanted).

In comments.


G.A.T.E.S. - Total Death (2005)

Usually about the time I find myself getting sick to death of all things Japan, a blistering combo like G.A.T.E.S. comes along and reaffirms their status as perhaps thee Greatest Musical Nation on Thee Planet. Made up of two ex-members of Church of Misery and Coffins (Vokillist Yoshiakki Negishi and bassist Tatsu Mikami), as well as axeman Masayasu Futatsugi (Life, Antiauthorize) and sticksman Fukawa (also of Sonic Flower, Bleed for Pain & Desperate Corruption), they play a bitchin' brand of Motörhrash not unlike a beefier Death Side. "Total Death" compiles everything they had recorded up to its release, including a devastating version of thee Mighty 'head's "Overkill."

Need I say more?

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D,O... Fuckin' A! (AKA Dearly Belated)

BLOODROCK - BLOODROCK 2 (1970)
MANILLA ROAD - The Courts of Chaos (1990)

Ok, this is thee Halloween post that never was. My modem decided to be a fickle little bitch on me last week, and although I thought about dumping this fucker outright, the concept was too damn sound to jettison... so here goes: Fort Worth, Texas' Bloodrock was one o' them late 60's combos that straddled the line between patchouli-stankin' *ahem* Flower Power Phurry Phreakery and thee burgeoning thud that would evole into heavy metal. Bearing more than a slight resemblance to Deep Purple, complete with John Lordian Hammond Organ high in the mix, their eponymous 1969 debut LP was a fine example of slightly-delic heavy rock that only lacked a signature tune to set it apart from the thousands of other bands mining the same turf. A quagmire that would be remedied the following year on "Bloodrock 2."

"D.O.A." is the musical equivalent to grindhouse guinol like "Blood Feast" and "Texas Chainsaw Massacre." I remember being a tyke camping with my hippie parents and their cadre of past-due flower children, and it seemed whenever I was stuffed into a tent for sleepytime, "D.O.A" would come on the radio for no other reason than to freak. Me. The. Fuck. Out. Underscored by eerie keys imitating ambulance sirens, it is thee tale of an aircrash victim recalling his final moments in lurid detail-- at least by 70's standards. In a way, it's an almost unknowable song-- the chorus states: "we were flying low... and hit something in the air." What the fuck?! Something? Yet it is this macabre mystique that makes it so endearing. Along with Manson and Altamont, it is yet another fork in the idealism of the 60's.

It is so damn good in fact, that Wichita, Kansas' ultimate purveyors of epic metal, Manilla Road would do a faithful cover 20 years later. Fittingly so, as "Courts of Chaos" is an odd entry in their catalog. To whit:

1. Randy Foxe, one of metal's top 2-3 drummers, plays guitar on it, replaced by a drum machine.
2. It is chock fulla keyboards, something inconceivable at the time.
3. It contains only one of their trademark 7-minute plus behemoths ("The Books of Skelos").

Despite what written down sounds like a recipe for disaster, "Courts" is still a solid ball of metal. The synths are a bit obtrusive at times, but never enough to diminish the power of Mark "The Shark" Shelton's impeccable riffing and hardy, untrained yowl. And, as I've tried to make clear--- you can never have enough versions of "D.O.A."

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Think I'm Psycho, Doncha?

BEASTS OF BOURBON - The Axeman's Jazz (1984)

So, to save myself some pissing around, here's what I said about these uncouth bastards way back here (it's for "Sour Mash" for those who give a shit):

A band where words fail me to describe their influence on my blackened soul. Hell, I wouldn’t be a fraction of the unrepentant scumbag and nuisance to assorted government apparatus without their guidance. Formed in Sydney, Oz as a hobby band by Kim Salmon (guitars) and Boris Sudjovic (bass) of the Scientists, James Baker of the Hoodoo Gurus (drums), Spencer Jones (guitars) of the Johnnys and future throat of the Cruel Sea, Tex Perkins, they cut their debut, “The Axeman’s Jazz” in a single afternoon in 1983.

And I wouldn't change a word of it. Though Tex Perkins hadn't mastered the unmistakable bellow we've come to know and worship on "Axeman," he's still pretty damn convincing donning the persona of a man who seemingly murders everyone he meets (in first person) on thee eerie yet hilarious cover of Leon Payne's "Psycho," and band original "Love & Death" where he spins a similar yarn in third person. And that's to say nothing of Kim Salmon's countrified yet punky guit-mauling that conjures a surreality not heard before or since-- Charley Patton's malevolent phantom inhabiting the body of John Morton (Electric Eels) perhaps?

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Behind the Broken Door

NIKKI SUDDEN - Red Brocade (1999)

From the Swell Maps to the Jacobites to his lengthy solo discography, Nikki Sudden was one of the few artists who could invoke the spirit of Johnny Thunders as easily as Gram Parsons-- sometimes within the same song. Even when engaging in some krautrock-style noisemongering, the astute listener can't help but detect a sense of that bleak, "High Lonesome" sound-- an emotionally fragile man with his heart on his sleeve-- proving that the aforementioned term shouldn't belong solely to C&W artists. Sadly, the majority of his recordings were released almost exclusively by fly-by-night nowhere labels, guaranteeing much of it would never stay in print for a decent amount of time.

Red Brocade is the kinda R&R record they simply don't make no more kats 'n' kitties-- simultaneously snotty and poignant; as shimmering as it ominous. It runs the gamut of styles-- countrified ballads ("Farewell, My Darling," which unfortunately includes fifth-tier Brian Wilson wannabe Jeff Tweedy; the elegantly wasted "Scarred Again"), Stonesy shuffles ("Countess," where Sudden is bold enough to lift the pseudo-disco bass line from "Miss You" to startling effect; "Tie You Up" where the narrator sounds more like a man at the end of his rope emotionally, not a dabbler in S&M), even a little pinky toe-dippin' into baroque pop (the positively gorgeous "Broken Door," where Nikki drops an aside to his lover in his speaking voice that is pure heartbreak). The bottom line is that (and yes I realize I harp on & on about far too often, but fuck it) in an age where ironic posturing and smirking insincerity win the critics' accolades, and R&R has been reduced to yet another way to sell hamburgers and shitty cars, I can't help but get a lump in my throat when I listen to True Believers like Nikki Sudden... ain't nobody gonna replace you, man.

RIP Nicolas "Nikki Sudden" Godfrey
July 19, 1956 - March 26, 2006

In comments.

Scumfuck Tradition

KILL ALLEN WRENCH - My Bitch is a Junky

I can't usually be bothered addressing thee Cult of Personality that surrounds the bands I beat my gums about on here-- particularly where it concerns internet rumor and innuendo. Shee-it, I think unless ya fell outta the womb yesterday, ya know by now the average issue of the Weekly World News is packed with more truth than the drama perpetuated by fucking nerds with too much time to think about trivialities and hammer out groundless diatribes on their stupid little forums and whatnot. However, since some of the same drivel made its way into the mockumentary (at least in my book), "Kurt & Courtney," a few years back, where the late, seemingly pretty wasted, El Duce (of the Mentors) stated that Allen Wrench was paid by Ms. Love to off her hubby, thee tale has taken on a life of mythical proportions. And it gets better: Allegedly, Wrench also threw Duce in front of that train where he took his last drunken stumble as well... to shut him up, I guess. Well, ya know what they say about there being no such thing as bad press...

To be clear, I don't care about Cobain, his band, his followers or his hose-beast wife, so the whole convoluted mess does little more'n warrant a (tiny) smirk on the mug of this motherfucker. For starters, ex-Mentors axeman Dr. Heathen Scum is a member of Kill Allen Wrench, so it stands to reason he wouldn't be particularly thrilled to share stages with his old mate's killer, don't it? I mean, we're not talking Vikernes/Euronymous here, are we? 'Sides, sounds too damn good to be true-- but enough of wasting time with this dreck, onto thee tuneage. Whatcha got here with K.A.W. is a combo picking up where the Mentors left off: Filthy, metal-tinged punk, proudly politically incorrect, that manages to jam every single Satanic and Sleazebag cliché into one deliciously disgusting package. There's guileless tales of heroin, methamphetamine, pot smoking, needles, punk rock, popping pills, heavy metal, prostitution, beating girlfriends/wives, exploitation of groupies, pornography, hidden cameras, public nudity, satanic worship and recruitment, drunk driving, superstardom, and last but not least... alcoholism (borrowed with a few alterations from their website). In short, mindless entertainment for One and All. This video should pretty much sum 'em up for y'all.

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Throw Down the Sword

WISHBONE ASH - Argus (1972)

WARNING: Rant ahead! Something that bugs the fuck outta me about thee scores of "genre-hopping" bands of today is the lack of cohesiveness exhibited by 'em. It's like they build their ditties in little blocks, like, "here's the folky part... next up... a few doom metal riffs, followed by a plunge into a horn-laden ska section... cool, no?" NO!! It's not cool!! It's schizo, contrived, but most of all, smacks of a band without an identity. Even worse, by incorporating this rapid switch of the radio dial style of songwriting, I get the feeling that these combos are worried about defying categorization so that if a new trend rears its fickle head, they can easily jump on board. These hacks would do themselves a gargantuan favor by looking to grandaddies of multi-genre-lization like Wishbone Ash.

Please do note "post-rock" (stupidest term ever-- I don't think anything has come along to replace rock just yet) Shit Band X with a skin-flute player and heads fulla influences thoust hasn't learned how to properly utilize, Wishbone Ash, despite having wide and varied inspirations, combined all of 'em seamlessly. You'll hear echoes of ancient folk hymns, excursions into psychedelia, poppy vocal harmonies... even a sword & sorcery themed "medieval trilogy." And, Lest I Forget, majestic and soaring twin-guitar harmonies that gave boners to everyone from Phil Lynott to Steve Harris. What you hear most of all though, is a band that had an immediately identifable sound. No ironic posing, no cut-and-paste bullshit.

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GOAT HORN - Voyage to Nowhere (2001)

Straight outta Pembroke, Ontario, Kanüda came Metal Warriors Goat Horn. Comprised of Mssrs. Jason Decay (bass/vox), Brandon Wars (Guitars) and Steel Rider (battery), their mission to earn thee crown of "Canada's Drunkest Band" and to ensure many a case of whiplash among headbangers worldwide was a short but successful one (relatively speaking). "Voyage," their self-released first foray into immortalizing their neck-snapping savagery, may have thee most perfect production I've ever heard on a metal record. All the levels are buried deep in the red, and they manage to channel both "Forest of Equillibrium"-era Cathedral with thee immaculately primal deathrash of fellow countrymen, Slaughter. Decay's ragged, "everydude" yelps have a slightly deathly timbre, and project enough attitude to compete with the Thicker Than The Average "American Idol" Fan riffage laid down by Wars (fitting nom de guerre?). One will also detect echoes of NWOBHM stalwarts like Priest and Maiden... in short, these motherfuckers were all about the Metal.

They would release one more full-length ("Storming the Gates"... BUY OR DIE!!) and an EP ("Threatening Force") before hanging up the denim and leather, only to re-emerge as Cauldron a short time later, where they've injected more thrash influences (do check 'em out). For me, though, their 32-minute debut I've ranted 'n' raved about here, imbued as it is with thee genius of boozy idiot-savants, is their finest hour (so far...).

In comments.

Alcoholocaust!

BESTIAL WARLUST - Blood & Valour (1994)
GOAT SEMEN VS. ANAL VOMIT - Devotos del Diablo (2004)

Decided to lump all three of these purveyors of cataclysmic scuzz together-- and for good reason: Although hailing from different metallic generations and locales, all of 'em are sub-contractors in Thee House That Sarcófago Built. And they're hardly the only ones-- what has become known as "war metal" has been adopted and bent to thee collective evil wills by the likes of Finland's Beherit, Canada's Blasphemy, Conqueror and Axis of Advance, and the US of Fuckin' A's Order from Chaos (among countless others).

Short-lived Sonic Titans Bestial Warlust hailed from Melbourne, Australia. Originally playing slightly more straightforward death metal as Corpse Molestation, they adopted the BW moniker, as well as their sledgehammer approach to blackened thrashing in 1993. Unlike their Nordic and Scandinavian counterparts, the Beasties had no interest in reciting weather forecasts or hailing the serenity of the local landscape. Nope, in addition to hailing a primitive brand of Goat Worship, their aim was to take you onto thee viscera-fed soil of the battlefield-- whether or not they were speaking metaphorically or literally is best left to the fevered mind of the listener. B&V is their second and final release, and features an endless barrage of blastbeats and blurry riffing that will be a bit overwhelming if ya happen to be a newbie to the style... but be STRONG!! Repeated listens reveal that paradoxically, this is subtle music. That is, you will discover there is some excellent technical fretwork underlying thee chaos. Members of BW would go on to form equally brilliant and intense outfits such as Deströyer 666, Abominator and Gospel of the Horns.

As for Goat Semen and Anal Vomit-- whom undoubtedly enlisted the help of their collective mommas to come up with their names-- both hail from Lima, Peru. They are possessed by Possessed, and enraptured with thee Hellish, primitive deathrash of early Sodom and Kreator. Throw in the maniacal commitment to poser-crushing, raw as fuck blaspheme-spew South American metallers are renowned for-- complete with riffs that seem to collide together harder than Rosie O'Donnell's asscheeks, evil rasp to bloodcurdling shriek vokills and alcohol-fueled, machine gun skinsbash. Guaranteed to terrify bible-thumping neighbors at 100 paces.

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Metallo Progressivo Italiano Epico!

DARK QUARTERER - S/T (1987)

Manilla Road a little lacking in thee bombast department for ya? Does listening to Manowar make ya wish they had a tad more flamboyance? Seldom has there been a band as committed to sweeping, breathtakingly EPIC tunesmithing as Piombino, Italy's Dark Quarterer. Their lengthy, ever-morphing ditties are packed with megalthic riffing, soaring vocals and labyrinthine arrangements that, upon first listen, might cause ya to be so disoriented, you'll figger ya didn't know thee secret handshake to enter their realm. Ya know what that means though, dontcha? That's right: Press play-->listen-->repeat, as with all masterpieces worthy of extended bouts of obsession. Although slightly hampered by the garagey production, their vision of uncompromising, 100 % Pure Fucking Metal with instrumental chops on par with most jazzbos remains undiminished.

Their roots can be traced all the way back to 1974 as cover band, Omega erre, consisting of Gianni Nepi (Vocals, Bass), Paolo Ninci "Nipa" (Drums), Francesco Longhi (Keyboards) and guitar genius/creative muse Fulberto Serena. The moniker switch to Dark Quarterer also brought about the band's first forays into penning original material, of which, terms like "eccentric" don't even begin to tell the tale. Sure, every metal band worth their salt has delved into thee mystical, magic(k)al and the occult at one point or another-- but never quite like these spaghetti slurpers. Take for example, "The Gates of Hell" which seemingly inverts thee typical Satanic storyline laid down by more bands than you could shake a studded wristband at-- BUT instead of praising Ol' Goat Horns, the protagonist's most fervent desire is to murder that goateed motherfucker and usurp his throne as thee ultimate exponent of evil!

With thee notable exception of Fulberto Serena, DQ are still going strong today-- I'd suggest checking out their latest, "Symbols," released earlier this year-- my pick for best of 2008 thus far. Of course, the option is always open for ya to buy whatever slab of hipster dreck Julian Cope or Pitchfork media are whoring incessantly, but I wouldn't recommend such things.

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BLACK HOLE - Land of Mystery (1980)

To borrow a song title from thee mighty Impaled Nazarene for purely descriptive purposes-- this obscure lil' opus provides a perfect soundtrack for the Lost Art of Goat Sacrificing. Or, you can insert yer own depraved, degenerate ritual that involves lots of virgin blood and ritualistic sex. "Soundtrack" is the key word here, as this LP is built around a nefarious, suffocating atmosphere moreso than crushing riffs. To take the lazy rockcrit route, a simple description would be to tell y'all to envision "Susperia"-era Goblin being sodomized by thee Paul Chain-led Death SS via Tony Iommi... but I loathe doing things the easy way. In reality, a much better touchstone would be Pagan Altar's debut album-- music that although firmly rooted in metal (particularly thee NWOBHM), transcends mere pigeonholing... a genre unto itself. It is thee mesmerizingly gloomy organ work that will suck you into thee surreal ambiance of "Land of Mystery." It's easy to envision unholy winds lashing deafening torrents of rain against the moldy windows of an eldritch house as you  hopelessly search for an escape route in a frenzy of sheer terror. Ok, that was a bit much: My apologies to Mr. Lovecraft... and to you.

In comments.

Rezzz...Erection! Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying & Love to Blog

PENTAGRAM - Human Hurricane [bootleg, 1998]

What immediately intrigued me about this legendary, Arlington, VA combo was an interview I read with them eons ago, regarding vocalist Bobby Liebling's quirk of carrying his current fave underground rock record to grade school with him--- and what a list! Sir Lord Baltimore, Stray, Blue Cheer, Savage Resurrection, Dust, Cactus... you get the idea. See, I can remember doing much the same thing with my records du jour as an arch bishop, so... instant connection! Sadly, despite a wealth of material that would've fit nicely within the parameters of what was considered "commercial" in the early 70's, the original band (Liebling, sticksman Geoff O'Keefe, axe-masters Vince McAllister and Randy Palmer and 4-string mauler Greg Mayne) never released a proper album. Oh sure, there were rehearsal tapes that made the rounds, they even made an appearance on the most-wonderful "Turds on a Bum Ride" (as "Macabre") bootleg, that was yet another installment of rare garage/psych goodies a la Pebbles/Nuggets etc.

They've reformed, broken up, reformed, changed monikers multiple times and released recordings from the early 80's to the present of varying quality. To me, these recordings do not represent the greatness that this band was capable of in their heyday. As luck would have it, the folks at Relapse decided to release their 1972-76 rehearsals, singles and demos as "First Daze Here", a few years back... a true Holy Grail for scuzz-metal freaks. Their sound is often likened to Sabbath, but I don't hear that at all. No, their sound is an approximation of Blue Cheer's Cro-Magnon Crunch, with a pinch of Dust. They were also way too American to be Sab-- I envision Pentagram stuck with the groupies Sab wouldn'ta sneezed at. Their songs also echo the sentiments of the horny, unsophisticated 'bopper-- not limey rock stars obsessed with X-tian fairy tales.

Until the release of thee aforementioned "Daze" collections, "Human Hurricane" was one o' the few ways to sample vintage Pentagram, and there still be a few choice slabs that haven't seen legit light of Daze.  So if'n ya wanna hear proto-doom classics like "Buzzsaw" and "The Bees" minus their 80's metal production sheen (and Victor Griffin), this is still the best way.

Tracks:

1 Forever My Queen
2 The Bees
3 Out of Luck
4 Goddess
5 Target
6 Devil Child
7 Much Too Young to Know
8 If the Winds Would Change
9 The Diver
10 Rape
11 Livin' in a Ram's Head
12 Buzzsaw
13 Starlady
14 Show 'em How
15 Downhill Slope
16 Hurricane
17 Burning Rays

In comments.


TV KILLERS - Playin' Bad Music Since '92 [1999]

Yunno, despite the title of this here blog, I'm not really a hardcore guy. Not enough sex mixed in with thee violence to sate my gonads for any length of time. On the other hand, I'll never get sick of 77-style blistered-fingers punk fucking rock that deals in busting cherries along with heads. That's why France's TV Killers speak to me on the same level as the man they provide European backing band duties for... Jeff Dahl. It's the kinda haphazard filth that alla those lameass Swedish bands like the Hellacopters attempted to conjure in the mid-90's without an iota of authenticity (go back to Entombed, Nicke!). The 'Killers on the other paw, sound like one o' them long-lost outfits immortalized on the "Killed By Death" and "Bloodstains" comps-- they're even astute enough to provide a ripping cover of the (Belgian) Kids' "Do You Love the Nazis?". I'd suggest ya take a break from scarfin' yer fucking "Freedom Fries" and check 'em out...

In comments.

Oh yeah: I didn't come out of hibernation to talk to myself, assholes!

Consider Me Reconsiderin'

See you mooks in August. Retirement has been downgraded to hiatus.

交通を得る簡単な方法

FLOWER TRAVELLIN' BAND - The Times (Best of, 1975)

Betcha never thunk a cult band like this 'un had a "Greatest Hits" package now, didja? Well, they do sho nuff. I can't imagine why I'd need to give even thee skimpiest of outlines introducing y'all to these gents. If you've been here before or surfed yer way in looking for FTB, you know what to expect by now. If by some miracle or some standard form of human ineptitude ya don't, I did beat my gums at top speed over their "From Pussies to Death in 10,000 Years of Freakout" bootleg here. I will give y'all a quick piece of my always sterling consumer advice though: this collection is essential for no other reason than to spare yer earholes thee torment of slogging through their misgiuided trawl through thee muck of tedious prog-rock, "Make Up." Here ya get thee best ditty from that disaster in thee Godzilla Vs. Mothra thunder of thee Sabbariffically doom-laden "Hiroshima."

Track list:

1 Satori Pt. II
2 Satori Pt. I
3 Shadows of Lost Days
4 Hiroshima
5 Make Up
6 Look At My Window
7 Spasms
8 I Wanna See You

In comments.

Leave My House!

VARIOUS - Teenage Shutdown: I'm Gonna Stay

With a compilation subtitled "Target: Fuzz!" ya know ya can't lose if yer a fan of good ol' infantile 60's garage goop. That's right-- this sucka is dedicated to thee use and abuse of mankind's Greatest Achievement: the distortion pedal. And I don't wanna hear any arguments-- y'all can have yer penicillin, porn and high-def TV's... I should damn well dedicate this here blog and all of its contents, my every fucking breath for that matter, to Red Rhodes who designed the first fuzzbox and handed it over to the Ventures for "2000 Lb. Bee." I say we start counting thee earthly hours beginning in 1962; we can even keep thee "A.D.," ceptin' now it'll mean "After Distortion."

Most important of all though, is thee fact that this here damn fine collection o' snot includes the Modds' "Leave My House." Even if the rest was padded out with 16 selections from "The Village Peoples' Most Buttastic Remixes," it'd still be worth checking out for this cut alone. Even with all the collector scum "super sleuths" out there, little to nothing is known about 'em, or how their ditty came to be molded into one of the most perfect examples of ineptitude transformed into genius. The song itself is pretty standard sub-Stones swagger 'n' snarl until... we get to that guitar "solo." Imagine if you will, a two-year old toddler with hands big enough to handle a fretboard-- now hand an axe to that kid and let 'em pluck away, and you've still got no clue how incredibly amusical and yet right fucking on this hapless endeavor into guit-flail is. Dottie Wiggins sounds like Yngwie Malmsteen in comparison!

Tracks:

1. The Mondels - I Got A Feeling
2. Mongrell's Band - Be My Girl
3. The Wanderer's Rest - The Boat That I Row
4. The Peabody Hermitage - Something So
5. Modds - Leave My House
6. Greg Barr & The Barr Association - Dance Girl Dance
7. The Great Society - I'm The One For You
8. Oscar Hamod & The Majestics - Got To Have Your Lovin'
9. Ides - Psychedelic Ride
10. The Grains Of Time - No Matter What They Say
11. Lou Capri - Love And Kisses
12. The Mondels - You'll Never Come Back To Stay
13. The Rock Garden - Super Stuff
14. The Moxies - I'm Gonna Stay
15. The Black Banana - Listen Girl
16. The Night Mist - Last Night
17. The Sceptres - But I Can Dream

In comments.

Subterranean Cave Blues

LUSTMORD - Paradise Disowned (1983)

One of those people that like to fire up the neurons to awaken the amygdala deep in yer medial temporal lobes? It's ok-- humans enjoy being scared for whatever primal reason preprogrammed into our DNA... likely has something to do with our constant wrestlin' with our fragile mortality. Anyway, as much as I'd love to play shrink with y'all and continue in vain to dazzle with my half-understood fancy words, let's talk some 'bout Welshman Brian "Lustmord" Williams, the grandaddy of thee "dark ambient" subgenre. Here, kats n' kitties is an artist willing to walk that extra mile-- literally-- to stir up thee horrors lurking in yer subconscious.

Now a lotta artists like to refer to themselves as "underground," but how many of 'em actually recorded there? Mr. Williams has a leg up on the rest of 'em cuz that's exactly what he did for "Paradise Disowned"-- descended into subterranean locales like the crypt at Chartres Cathedral, Dunster Abattoir in Bangor and even the bottom of the fucking ocean! To further cause yer delicate little heart to beat a little faster, he utilizes infrasound-- frequencies below 20 Hz that are known to inspire dread in those exposed to 'em. Throw in treated field recordings of Tibetan horns and monk chants, and you've got thee perfect 3 a.m. album (should thou have thee proper constitution). Now that's what I call "underground" music!

In comments.


STABAT MATER - S/T Promo (Bootleg CD-R, 2001)

Finland's Mikko Aspa is one of my favorite people currently toiling away in thee extreme music scene today; actually, mebbe I should rephrase that as I've never actually MET the guy. I am in awe not only of his talents and sense of aesthetics, but of his work ethic as well. How prolific is he? Well, he's currently thee vocalist of Deathspell Omega, and is the sole member or contributes in one way or another to Clandestine Blaze, Grunt, Creamface, Nicole 12, Fleshpress, Clinic of Torture and Alchemy of the 20th Century among a half dozen others. He is also thee proprietor of black metal label Northern Heritage and power electronics imprint, Freak Animal. Ah yes, he also dabbles in your favorite, sticky little vice and mine: porn, as editor of "Erotic Perversions" magazine and owner of "Public Obscenities" video.

Some call Stabat Mater "funeral doom," which is a term I absolutely abhor-- it brings to mind alla those yawn-inducing, goth-inspired swillmeisters like Wormphlegm, Catacombs and Rigor Sandonicous, which aside from their equally slooow tempos, are too mired in perpetual suckage to be lumped alongside Stabat Mater. What I hear comes down to "you can take the boy outta power electronics, but you can't take power electronics outta the boy." Every slothful guitar riff sounds like it's been filtered through some form of electro-grime, encrusted in feedback-swirling filth. How sluggish is it? Let's just say ya got plenty o' time to pour another shot of Maker's in between chord changes. There is also extensive use of samples-- Gregorian chants, and most effectively, a would-be female victim screaming at the precise moment Aspa spews, in his heavily-treated gargle, thee chorus of "Give Them Pain."

These five tracks, although some of 'em have made thee rounds on comps and splits, were never supposed to see the light of day. According to thee version of thee saga that I've heard, Mikko gave a handful of copies to "friends" as a taster, only to discover it had been leaked all over "teh intrawebs" only days later. Oh well, with friends like those...

In comments.

Join the Legion!

CIRITH UNGOL - Paradise Lost (1991)

Thee cult band to end all cult bands, Cirith Ungol had a sound that blended equal parts European proto-metal a la Thin Lizzy, Sabbath and Budgie as well as thee then-burgeoning NWOBHM sounds of Judas Priest, Angel Witch and Saxon. Their closest American contemporaries would be Manilla Road and Brocas Helm, though I find all three bands so unique it's difficult to lump any of 'em together without encountering serious stylistic road-bumps-- this ain't cookie-cutter swill, folks: this is a band that had a vision of heavy rock filled with now-classic swords & sorcery imagery backed with riffs as megalithic as Tolkien's "Pass of the Spider" from where they took their name.

Formed in 1972 in Ventura, California, with original moniker Titanic, they once counted future Angry Samoan Pat Galligan among their ranks (for all y'all trivia geeks). With his departure, their lineup solidified around guitarists Jerry Fogle and Greg Lindstrom, vocalist Tim Baker, drummer Rob Garven and thunderbroomer Michael "Flint" Vujejia. Scoring a deal with now defunct indie label Enigma in 1980, they unleashed "Frost & Fire" the following year to howls of derision from rockcrits and metalheads alike. In all seriousness, it's easy to understand why in hindsight: there were no masturbatory exhibitions of technical virtuosity or glossy radio-ready ditties that were hallmarks of mainstream metal at the time. There was quite simply no musical references to use to measure 'em by, and if you've got a fucking head half fulla gray matter, you've come to realize by now that 99 % of the entire human race has absolutely NO DESIRE to think for themselves. Tim Baker's smoker's cough rasp coupled with banshee shriek is often an obstacle for many as well, though I personally can't imagine another vocalist living or dead better suited to front this combo. Be that as it may, they soldiered on in virtual anonymity for three more LP's-- 1984's "King of the Dead," 1986's "One Foot in Hell" and this platter, their swansong.

Straight up, this is thee "worst" Cirith Ungol album; but saying that is akin to calling "Sabbath Bloody Sabbath" the "worst" of that unfuckwithable sextet of early Sab Slabs (at least in thee JTP Pantheon). That is, it would be thee crown jewel of a mere mortal band's catalog. Lindstrom, Fogle and Vujejia had bailed by this point, replaced by Jim Barraza, Joe Malatesta and Vernon Green respectively. The majority of the material stands tall alongside early Ungol, with thee exceptions of some ill-advised wanderings into thee major key like "Heaven Help Us" and the almost-anthem, "Go it Alone." Such missteps are easily forgiven when skullsmashers like thee epics "The Troll," "Chaos Rising" and most surrealistically, a cover of Arthur Brown's "Fire" are included, however. For C.U. noobs, this is probably not the place to start-- that would be "King of the Dead," which is their magnum opus. It is easily available and should be a part of every collection of any self-respecting rocker.

In comments-- and leave one you ungrateful swine!

Gummo OST

I think a heartfelt round of congratulations are in order to thee Harmony Korine/Larry Clark/Vincent Gallo Axis: you've proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that American filmmakers who dabble in "existential" cinema are every bit as stupefyingly dull and redundant as their European counterparts. Please, take a bow. Perhaps we should throw Chloe Sevigny in there as well, as she appears to be some kinda "muse" for these rather uninteresting gentlemen-- my dearest darling, no matter how many times you appear naked or perform sadly unimpressive fellatio on one of your cast members' members, you'll never be Uschi Digart. NEVER. For those of you who have no idea what I'm on about... I really don't care.

Regardless, there's seldom soundtracks --if EVER-- that include the likes of Sleep, Bathory, Burzum, Absu or Spazz, let alone all of 'em on one handy shiny disc. So, whomever compiled this collection deserves to be commended, if not the film itself, which is a grainy, fake documentary about youthful rednecks growing up in an Ohio Nowheresville. It's filled to the brim with contrived attempts to shock that will only offend those whose bourgeois sensibilities haven't allowed 'em to discover life beyond thee anonymous suburbs in which they dwell. So be thankful I'm providing the music, not the visuals.

Tracks:

1 Absu - The Gold Torques of Ulaid
2 Eyehategod - Serving Time in the Middle of Nowhere
3 The Electric Hellfire Club - D.W.S.O.B
4 SPAZZ - Gummo Love Theme
5 Bethlehem - Schuld Uns'res Knoch'rigen Faltpferd
6 Burzum - Rundgang Um Die Transzendentale Säule Der Singularität
7 Bathory - Equimanthorn
8 Dark Noerd - Smokin' Husks
9 Sleep - Dragonaut
10 Brujería - Matando Gueros 97
11 Namamax - The Medicined Man
12 Nifelheim - Hellish Blasphemy
13 Mortician - Skin Peeler
14 Mystifier - Give The Human Devil His Due
15 Destroy All Monsters - Mom's and Dad's Pussy
16 Bethlehem - Verschierte Irrelgiositat
17 Mischa Maisky - Suite No.2 For Solo Cello In D Minor-Prelude
18 Sleep - Some Grass
19 Rose Shepherd, Ellen M. Smith - Jesus Loves Me

In comments.

tr00 Blackened Basement Psych

BENIGHTED LEAMS - Astral Tenebrion (1997)

There's a reason why musty old clichés become musty old clichés-- there's a kernel of truth in 'em. Take for example, this one: "One man's loss is another man's gain." And how does that apply to thee Platter du Jour thou ask? Well... Alex Kurtagic aka Benighted Leams (although someone named Wulfhild apparently sits in occasionally on bass) sat down in his bedroom, garage or basement with thee full intention of kicking up some good 'ol fashioned blasphemy to make Beelzebub proud. Problem was, he had absolutely no idea whatsoever how to program a drum machine-- thus, there's nothing remotely resembling a digestible beat throughout this entire album. The wildly askew synth-thud, perhaps the most blatantly mechanical-sounding "percussion" I've ever heard committed to tape, kinda provides a bit o' random punctuation here 'n' there... on different songs for a different record unfortunately, though.

He also musta lost his Satanic Bible cuz the lyrics seem to have been written with the help of some half-understood astronomy texts. So, instead of the typical "I'm Gonna Recrucify Jesus" or "Skullfucking in Lucifer's Name" stuff black metal connoisseurs have come to know & love, ya get far more ungainly titles like "Hermetically Leering as Frigid Blores Obumber" and "Succeeding Departure From the Chryse Planitia." Hardly the kinda subject matter Gorgoroth would approve of. Mebbe because of his self-confessed upbringing of "dismal squalor and desolation" in South London, he was looking to the spaceways to metaphysically escape from his earthly prison (yes, I'm completely fulla shit, I know-- I stole that from George Clinton). Whatever the case, his fretwork is more than competent; much more. The multi-tracked riffage is filled with aspirations of Wagnerian grandeur; sounding at times like Hawkwind taking a stab at "Ride of the Valkyries."

Awright, awright. What I'm trying to say is that despite his failure to make an opus that has anything in common with black metal (or metal of any kind for that matter), we get ourselves a fine slice of outsider psychedelia that rivals Skip Spence's "Oar" or the Red Krayola's "Parable" in that fine little corner of the aural Twilight Zone. Sorry Mr. Kurtagic: your loss is our gain (well, mine at least, anyway).

Beam yourself to the comments.

I Always Maim to Please

SLAUGHTER (CAN) - Strappado (1986)

One-Two... FUCK YOU!!!

Oh yessss... this HAD to happen. How could I not present to y'all in all its unrestrained, bloody-knuckled fury thee proto-death metal monster that is "Strappado"??! 22 years on and I still feel the adrenaline charging through my innards, making me a slave to thee thrashing madness contained on this magnum opus. It's next to impossible not to be filled with rapidly dimming visions of myself and merry band of no-goodniks stomping around the rural wasteland we inhabited, fulla cheap booze, screeching every word of every ditty contained here; ghetto blaster on the most sober bastard's shoulder (usually the guy who could grow a full beard at fifteen who bought the shit in the first place) as we wandered around looking for somewhere, anywhere to escape from thee frigid Kanück winter.

What can I say? This is a maelstrom of fat, buzzing guitar, gargled vox and relentless skins-pummel that was/is nothing less than the smoldering embers that created the death metal inferno that would ignite a few years later. All these Toronto boys did was distill their riffing to its most barbaric essence, unleashing a sound that was more extreme than anything else at the time, proving once again that simplicity is thee key to all great R&R. There were obviously a lotta Scandinavians listening closely-- that oh-so-sweet guitar tone associated with the likes of Entombed, Grave and Dismember is already in full bloom on "Strappado"-- but not one damn one of them Swedes ever wrote anything as anti-headbang-proof as "Tales of the Macabre" or "Death Dealer." Fuck it, I see no need to beat my gums together any further-- get yer worthless ass...

Into the comments.

Oh yeah-- if ya were stoopid enough to miss their equally godly "Surrender or Die" demo it's here, dumbass.

Dirt May Be Your Santa Claus

MELVINS - Tora Tora Tora (4 x 7-inch bootleg, 1995)

Not a whole lotta need to scribe a damn thing about these gents. Yer either thee type that'd eagerly consume a tape of King Buzzo, Dale Crover and their bassist of the week wrestling with thee beer shits (Coming Soon! With Mike Patton as 'guest' flatulence) or you'd have a smirk on yer mug for a week if their tour bus fell off the face of a 200 ft. cliff (hopefully with Mr. Patton on board). Depending on the day, I fall into both camps. However, if you fall into the former, here's a decent, if not spectacular-sounding boot from their "Stoner Witch" Tour. If I had a scanner that wasn't a complete piece of trash I woulda included deluxe pix of thee exquisite packaging-- a hardcover book fastened together with actual bolts which opens up to reveal sleeves for each 7-incher... but the truth is, I don't. So who cares?

Tracks:

revolve / skweetis / with teeth / night goat / specimen / concert warning / kisw interview / hooch / queen / johnny reno / gunfighter / oven / goose freight train / goggles / sweet willy roll bar / radio interview / road bull

In comments.


UPSIDEDOWN CROSS - S/T (1991)

I've oft-heard this band described as "Flipper's Retarded Younger Brother," and certainly even after the most cursory exposure to the mongoloid whose had his Tonka Truck stolen yelp of Larry Lifeless, the comparison has some merit... but there's something far more depraved at work here. Not that it comes as any surprise when you consider this combo's pedigree: three-quarters of Boston, Massachusetts debauched purveyors of slothful noise-punk, Kilslug (the aforementioned Lifeless, bassist Cheez and guitarist Rico Petroleum). Sitting in on skins was, from thee "Holy Fuck! I can't believe I enjoy an album with HIM on it" file, J. Mascis.

This is disgusting, filthy, down-tuned decadence. Since we brainless humans like to deal in primitive concepts like "good" and "evil," I'll bite and call it perhaps the most "evil" recording I've ever heard. There ain't a corpse-painted creep with 666 odes to Lord Gobbledygook to his credit that can touch thee confrontational slime that'll ooze from yer speakers when the disease known as Upsidedown Cross launch into one of their Hymns of Heinousness. Imagine a lobotomized Tony Iommi with a seriously unhealthy fetish for his wah pedal and yer still coming up short in getting a handle on the kinda fuzz-scuzz on display here. Couple that with Larry Lifeless' testimonials like "Jesus was dumb," and "a phony" which I admit sounds pretty stoopid typed out here, but spat from his noxious piehole takes on a (much) higher level of blasphemy.

Fuck it-- here's a crudely disturbing video for "Mass in Blood." Don't say you weren't warned.

In comments.

Sister of Satan Praise Thee Lord

DIAMANDA GALÁS - Malediction and Prayer [1998]


Obviously the natural heir to Patty Waters' throne as Thee Seductress of Shriek, Diamanda Galás has made some of the most powerfully disturbing albums of the last two decades. I count her among my favorite artists of all-time, yet I must confess something: I very rarely play her music. And that's not a feeble attempt at being a wiseass-- I quite simply very seldom have the emotional commitment that should be mustered to wallow in her oppressive and demanding oeuvre. Her Gospels of Gloom are swaddled in a despair so thick, at times it feels as though you're been asphyxiated by the Cold Hand of Death itself. Hers is not an art form for the passive listener-- her works are best listened to in the clear thinking hours right before dawn, preferably alone with zero distractions.

"Malediction and Prayer" was recorded in various locales during Ms. Galás' November 1996 to June 1997 World Tour. Comprised of covers ranging from B.B. King ("The Thrill is Gone") to Phil Ochs ("Iron Lady") to Billie Holliday ("I'm Gonna Live the Life"), it is a barebones affair featuring only Galás' four-octave voice and her minimalist, classically-trained piano tinklin'-- and believe me, that's more than enough. Her golden throat is an instrument unto itself, capable of capturing immeasurable depths of melancholy as easily as dizzying heights of righteous anger. Particularly striking is her take on the Shel Silverstein-penned "25 Minutes to Go," a minor hit for Johnny Cash. Galás expunges the light-hearted black humor of the original, a novelty song about an outlaw awaiting his execution, leaving its skeletal remains as the funeral dirge its creator is unlikely to have ever imagined. She imbues the piece with such utter hopelessness that as each minute is counted down, the tension becomes nearly unbearable; by the time she's reached the inevitable conclusion, the breath of the hangman might as well be hideously caressing the back of yer neck. Needless to say, it's doubtful you'll be blasting this at the beach this summer.

In comments.

Brown Metal Hoedown!

LUGUBRUM - De Totem (1999)

That's right: Brown Metal, and Lovendegem, Belgium's Lugubrum are its only exponents. Their songs revolve around their twin obsessions of beer and carrots, not hackneyed far right politics or Anti-Xianity. They wear straw hats and smoke corncob pipes... got yer attention yet? How about if I told ya that their music, although deeply rooted in the lo-fi grimnity of second-wave Norwegian black metal, features an occasional banjo?** How about if I revealed a few of their perverse song titles such as "Udder of Death," "Beard of Disease" and "Midgets of Evil"? Now forget all that shit I just typed, cuz thee blurry, buzzsaw guitar riffs and positively maniacal vox lift this several tiers above yer garden variety novelty act.

"De Totem" is an album that requires incessant listening for it to reveal its full scope. It may sound ridiculous, but I'd (almost) put it in the same category as "Trout Mask Replica"-- so fulla polyrhythmic insanity that yer initial reaction may feel like attempting to navigate a labyrinth with corncob pipes in yer eyes (smoking a pipe of yer own may help; and I'm talking about the one yer big brother smoked, not yer dad). There's a section of heavily-treated guitar in "Beard of Disease" that I swore was a lap steel the first dozen or so times this filth desecrated my earholes, and yes, it does sound like vocalist Barditus is being anally raped by Godzilla, but when you take the time to learn the verbiage of his depraved poetry, thou shalt recognize his genius. Check out the lyrics to "Inner Magma," for example:

Sulphurous visions
in yellow vapour
Contorted crater
Scalding indigestion

Violent eruption
Fertile deluge
Cleansing from the core
The smell of rebirth!

They don't hardly write 'em like that anymore.

** = Sadly, since moving to thee urban sprawl of Ghent, they've abandoned 'Boersk Blek Metle' (Farmer Black Metal).

In comments.

MERCYFUL FATE - The Lost Tapes 1978-84

Ok everyone: put on yer black leather studded beanie caps with thee glistening chrome propeller. For we are not concerned with thee (at times) questionable fidelity of this here bootleg. No, our aim is to slip into our frequent roles as nerdy musicologists. We must dissect every nuance and subtlety of a contraband recording such as this one... and we must be precise. So, first up we have "Hard Rocker," which one could say hearkens back to Hank & Michael's daze as the Brats (which you absolutely, positively MUST check out if'n ya haven't already) with its punky, garage-metal riff and unbridled sloppy energy. Now is it just me or does King Diamond's voice sound at least an octave lower'n usual? Could it be that *gasp* his testicles actually did drop at some point??! Perhaps all this time he's merely tied an elastic band around 'em... or even had the soprano snip? Ah, so many questions, so few answers. For example: is that the "Highway Star" riff liberally borrowed on "Love Criminals"? Why no! How could this be so when the song evolves into an embryonic version of "Into the Coven"? "Some Day" seems to have some of the neo-classical pretensions we 'Fate fans have come to know and love... waitaminnit... I know that quasi-baroque melody line! Why, if it ain't "Desecration of Souls" as a mere infant! Move over, King Tut-- this is a discovery that easily dwarfs a moldy old carcass like you. "Death Kiss," as even the most casual fan-- if there is such a thing-- knows, was the original sketch for DON'T BREAK THE OATH's "A Dangerous Meeting." Here, you can check it out in varying stages of completion, although I recommend playing the second featured version first as it is far more primitive than the first one (these bootleggers seldom seem to have a sense of flow, do they?).

Until next time, I'm removing my beanie. I'll leave further excavations and insights up to y'all... or not.

Track list & specs:

1 Hard Rocker
2 Combat Zone
3 Love Criminals
from THE MERCYFUL FATE DEMOS, 1982
4 Evil Lord
from THE BLACK ROSE Sessions, 1978
5 Some Day
6 Death Kiss
from THE MERCYFUL FATE DEMOS, 1981
7 Persecution
8 I'm Alright
9 Death Kiss
from THE 'DANGER ZONE' Sessions, 1982
10 Shadow Night (Devil's Daughter)
recorded Live in Copenhagen, Denmark, August 15, 1982
11 Walking Back To Hell
12 On a Night of Full Moon
recorded Live in Copenhagen, Denmark, July 23, 1982

In comments.

Do the Icepick

GEROGERIGEGEGE - Recollections of Primary Masturbation

Welcome to the world of Juntaro Yamanouchi, the gay, cross-dressing noisemonger behind Shinjuku, Tokyo's Gerogerigegege. The Gero first raised its ugly mug in 1985 with the "Studio & Live" LP, and have ever since released a huge catalog of noise, ambient and uncategorizable works-- many of which are high on the record collector scum want-list, and go for ludicrous amounts of money. Then again, how many bands consider masturbation an instrument (courtesy of Gero 56 aka Tetsuya Endoh)? Maybe they're justified with their obsession in this case (?).

My fave has always been "Tokyo Anal Dynamite" (included here in full), which contains 75 (!) tracks, all of which are short blasts of noise (under a minute) prefaced with Juntaro's nod to the Ramones by screaming "1-2-3-4!!" between each "song." You'll be laughing yer ass off by about the 20th time he does it. Er... I do anyway.

This Collection Contains:
- Kitanomaru Hyakkei 7" EP
- Senzuri Champion LP
- Senzuri Monkey Metal Action 7" EP
- More Shit 7" EP
- Tokyo Anal Dynamite CD
= 338 Songs!!

In comments.


PRIMITIVE CALCULATORS - S/T (1979)

Make no mistake, the racket of the Primitive Calculators coulda spawned from only one place: the soulless, dreary confines of Sweet Home Suburbia. A place where, if you were a bored teenager in the mid-70's, solace could only be found in conspicuous consumption, heavily thumbed issues of Creem and the well-worn grooves of Velvet Underground, Godz and MC5 LP's. That outpost of gloom for the Primitive Calculators was Springvale, outside of Melbourne, Oz. With nothing more than the desire to Get The Fuck Out, they armed themselves with a Moserite Guitar, Wasp & Roland SH2 synthesizers (ie: primitive) and a Roland CR-78 drum machine.

I already gave y'all a taste of this combo a few posts down on the "Can't Stop It!" compilation (see "Broken Legs, Broken Face"), and this LP was their only official output during their brief existence (1978-82). If you dig Chrome (judging by the success of my "Chromosome Damage" triumvirate, I'd guess a lotta ya do, he says, checking his stats), Suicide or the Screamers, this is definitely up yer analog electro-skronk alley. Atonal and (still) futuristic, squawking one-note guitar riffs battle with the beeping and whirring din of dissonant keyboards and hyper-fast android thud. This is a far more challenging, not to mention rewarding listen than anything outta NYC's much ballyhooed No Wave scene-- and much less precious or irony-caked. And hey, any band that dedicates their longplayer to the Godz' Jim McCarty gets a special notation in my Cool Book.

In comments.

SAINT VITUS - First Album Demo

I gotta give a tip o' thee lid to the legions of nuevo-doom outfits out there. It's gotta be tough making a living outta playing within the heavily scene-enforced signifiers of a marginalized genre (though it seems to've garnered some trendiness as of late). Even in my advanced state of jadedness there's something noble about it I must admit, even if I find listening to said bands about as interesting as watching the dungballs crust upon the ass of a donkey (coughReverendBizarrecough). Oh well, at least those bands have some connection to actual heavy rock, unlike say, SHIT O))), who ARE crusted dungballs.

'Sides, I've got my Pentagram, Candlemass, Pagan Altar and second to only thee Mighty Sabs in thee doom sweepstakes, Saint Vitus albums. This demo is actually a much better listen than the first LP-- it has much crunchier production, so those titanic Dave Chandler power chords crush into yer chest like a sledgehammer, and Scott Reagers' impeccably melodramatic invocations might as well be in yer living room. Ripped at a glorious 320 kbps to maximize yer pleasure.

Tracks:

1. Saint Vitus
2. The Sadist
3. White Magic/Black Magic
4. The Psychopath
5. White Stallions
6. Zombie Hunger
7. Burial at Sea

In comments.

Bela Lugosi's Still Dead BUT...

THE GAULT - Even as All Before Us

San Francisco's John Gossard is one of the most baffling human icebergs plying his trade in the underground metal scene today. He's been involved with some excellent and much-lauded bands like Black Goat, Weakling (with Josh of the Fucking Champs) and currently doom behemoths Asunder, and yet you can count his songs on yer fingers and toes. It seems that in his world, everything needs to be grand, sweeping and EPIC. Not only that, but until Asunder released "Works Will Come Undone" last year, he seemed to have a phobia about appearing on a second release by any outfit with the same moniker. For those in the dark, his stellar guitar work encompasses the thunderous heaviosity of early Swans, the poetic mystique of Burzum and the "anything goes" inventiveness of Neurosis.

The Gault were formed in 1999 by Gossard and another ex-member of Weakling, drummer Sarah Weiner. They recruited bassist/vocalist Lorraine Rath (later of Amber Asylum) and enigmatic lead vocalist Ed "Dead" Kunakemakorn and became, in Gossard's words, "San Francisco's most hated band." Which ain't too hard to believe as the Gault were quite a stylistic U-turn from the ferocious, arty black metal Weakling peddled: they were a pure, no vampire bullshit allowed, goth rock band. Although Kunakemakorn's voice sounds almost unbearably like Peter Murphy (with a dash of Ian Curtis), with their free-form excursions into acid-fried yet corpse clammy experimentation, the long-forgotten outfit that comes most to mind is Arizona's Mighty Sphincter-- in fact, if ya were a fan of theirs, this LP will make yer undies nice 'n' creamy.

My Pick to Click is the 12-minute album centerpiece, "Country Road, Six Miles In." Gossard lays down a shimmering bed of heavily flanged/phased chords before taking off into an nigh psychedelic, apocalyptic netherworld of disjointed riffing-- kinda like free jazz if it'd been invented post-Joy Division-- laying the foundation for a perverse duet between Rath and Kunakemakorn. Rath's voice enters first, sounding timid, almost brittle, but gains power with every phrase until reaching into an operatic stratosphere not unlike the Cocteau Twins' Liz Fraser... positively gorgeous. Gorgeous that is until Ed Dead joins the fray with his cadaver croon. I'm telling ya kids, this dude sounds like one of the most tormented human beings to ever haunt this doomed mudball. Don't take my word for though, check it out...

In comments.


DEATH SS - In Death of Steve Sylvester [1988]

All youse hysterically lefty types can stop wringing yer manicured little paws right now-- the "SS" stands for Steve Sylvester, the band's vocalist, and hey, KISS approximated the Waffen-Schutzstaffel logo too... so fucking chill. Anyway, with that outta the way (why I continue to care I have no idea), here's the lowdown on Death SS: they were formed in 1977 in Pesaro, Italy by doom/psych guitar wizard Paul Chain and the aforementioned Mr. Sylvester, both of whom shared a love for B-horror flicks and Alice Cooper. They recorded a slew of great singles & EP's with a crude, garage-metal sound and took to stages with each member dressed up as different monsters (Vampire, Mummy, Werewolf etc.), until Chain got religion, causing 'em to disband in 1984 (actually, he already had religion, but it was that of a Satanic Sect; word is he'd conducted a few black masses and that kinda shit).

Steve Sylvester resurrected the band in 1988 with all new members: Christian Wise (guitar), Kurt Templar (guitar), Erik Landley (bass) and Boris Hunter (drums). It is this lineup that recorded this LP, their first official full-length. All of the tracks-- with the exception of the Alice Cooper cover, "I Love the Dead," natch-- are re-recordings of material on those fabled early works. Powered by Sylvester's insectival invocations ("unique" doesn't even begin to describe his voice), Death SS Mk.II added some (very) slight sophistication to their sound, incorporating malevolent keyboard texturing, razor-sharp thrashy guitar riffing and an obsession with dank, claustrophobic atmosphere. They still exist today albeit as a Gothic Club-Boy band with Sylvester as the only constant-- playing to legions of fuckwits wearing musty capes with their canine teeth filed into fangs and one of Anne Rice's Harlequin Romances disguised as a bloodsucker epics cradled tight to their breasts.

In comments.

YAY! Bonus Album!! (or over-ambitiousness, I dunno)


ZESS - Et In Arcadia Ego [2004]

In my neverending quest to stay within Uncle Frank Zappa's theorem of Conceptual Continuity, I present to thee yet another Italian combo-- in this case, one utterly and completely influenced by the one I just finished beating my gums about. This outfit is shrouded in mystery, but what I do know about 'em is that they split in 1988, recorded the material contained here between 1987-88, and that their membership was Mercy (Vocals), Lord Ruthven (Guitar), Dr. Polidori (Guitar), Dr. Freudstein (Bass) and F. Rosenkrantz (Drums & Synth). They were obviously heavily enamored with Paul Chain-era Death SS, right down to the ultra-kooky vox and B-movie obsessions. But why oh why would ya need a clone band of Death SS, you ask? Well... there ain't many of 'em for starters, which makes this platter an oddity already, but what really matters is that they manage to outdo the Old Masters at times. Great gargantuan riffs St. Vitus' Dave Chandler would be proud of, as well as reckless, wah'd guitar solos every bong-huffing stoner or self-righteous doomer will instantly fall in love with. Whatever, I expect about 15 of y'all TOTAL to take the plunge with what I've presented here, so until next time...

Dig the comments, doofus.

The Lights, the Sound, the Rhythm, the Noise

FLIPPER - Blow'n Chunks (1983)

Didja see "American Hardcore" yet? Didja catch the part when that weaselly little asswipe Moby claimed to've been an erstwhile member of Flipper? Did it make ya wish ya could reach through the TV screen so's to lay a solid coupla left hooks into that noggin of his; that plucked pate often mistaken for a shriveled ballsack? If not, you don't have enough fire in yer belly... go on, Hate is Healthy, those fiery shots of adrenaline keep the cholesterol down. Ya don't wanna let that black poison sit there, liable to leak into yer helpless gizzard-- that's the kinda thing that causes cancer (NOTE: I'm not a doctor, but I've had intimate relations with a nurse before... as good a qualification as any, methinks). Somehow, I have my doubts that a gutless corporate pig of his ilk, so swift in his cowardice to appease The Powers That Be that he nearly snaps his ankles, woulda had the gonads to hang with the big boys of scuzzy inepto-scree. I mean, that wimp actually changed the name of Mission of Burma's "That's When I Reach for my Revolver" to "That's When I Realize It's Over" so his worthless cover version would get airplay! Now, y'all might think I've devoted too much space to bashing the little dickhead, but as a certain modern day prophet, Mr. Bill Hicks, once rightly opined re: the Mobys of the World: "They are DEMONS... set loose upon the Earth... to LOWER THE STANDARDS!"

Casting all disdain for Suckers of Satan aside, this priceless document of Flipper's November 1983 CBGB gig is the band in their element. Ted Falconi's churning guitar melds with the dual bass attack of Bruce Lose and Will Shatter to create a hypnotic wall of sludge you can almost see. (It may sound blasphemous-- like I give a fuck-- but the closest thing I've heard that compares is Crazy Horse, with or without Neil, but particularly on the "Arc" set, which was an assembled collection of their most transcendentally noisy moments). The version of "Shed No Tears" here is definitive-- it rumbles along at about 5 mph like a 200-Lb. slug, making early Melvins sound like speed metal. "Ha Ha Ha" is so completely tuneless that it becomes something exquisite-- a goulash of buzzing amplifiers, Steve DePace's ever-wandering timekeeping (which becomes a living organism unto itself) and Bruce ad-libbing bizarre declarations like: "Sounds like Pete Townshend, right? Bah, whatever his name is... he's in Pink Floyd anyway." It's an intuitive form of cacophony that proves everybody CAN'T do it. Seriously, have ya ever heard any band that sounds even remotely like Flipper? Didn't think so.

In comments unless ya love Moby.


MERZBOW - Frog (2001)

With about 3,592 to choose from, I'm kinda um... sure "Frog" is my favorite Merzbow album. As is always the case, it's packed with them there spleen-bursting high-end frequencies we've all come to know and love, but Thee Merz chisels some interesting nuances into his noise sculptures this time around. Y'see, this opus ain't called "Frog" for the hell of it-- all five pieces are based around the sounds emitted by said creatures. And I'm not talkin' about stuff like "J'ai demandé à un Canadien ce que je devrais à emporter comme souvenir de mon voyage là. Il a recommandé une barre de savon classée par famille," smartass. Nay, I'm referring to the little green beasties that make that oh-so-charming "ribbit, ribbit" noise. It's a similar approach to Aube's single source "designs" (his term, not mine). Of course Aube's albums don't gouge into yer eardrums but...

Most importantly, it is a powerful sonic weapon if you happen to suffer from the recent and diabolical plague of "metrosexual" neighbors-- as I do. They blast their eighth or ninth-tier hip hop (coincidence, no?) at unbearable volumes on a regular basis, yet I never let it get to me for I have thee Tonic. Slap this monster on and roll around the living room with tears of laughter in yer eyes as the hapless twits wander around outside with bewildered looks on their faces--- trying desperately to find the source of the killer amphibian threatening to swallow 'em whole. Ah... sometimes Life is Good.

In comments.

Broken Legs, Broken Face, Blood Everywhere

NECRONOMICON (Ger) - Tips zum Selbtsmord (1972)

The next time some needle-dicked knowitall tries to lay that "there was nuthin' as heavy as Sabbath in the early 70's, dude" trip on ya, sit their sorry ass down for a spin of this beast (Hopefully you have the original edition, limited to 500 copies, with the six-panel gatefold that forms a huge cross and the insert that features a pile of mangled corpses). If ya don't smell 'em first, these "people" are easy enough to spot: they tend to wear denim jackets with the sleeves crudely hacked off-- at least a size too small-- covered with patches of mediocre bands, nicotine stains up to their elbows (yup, I smoke too, but I also bathe) and facial hair that resembles a diseased Chia Pet. I wish I was being a smartarse or merely exhibiting my not so latent misanthropy, but take it as a Public Service Announcement. Trust me: I know these things.

Speaking of misanthropy, ya gotta know that a band that takes the name of HP Lovecraft's (or the "Mad Arab," Abdul Alhazred depending on your level of naivety) infamous fictional manuscript, and calls their first (and only) LP "Tips to Commit Suicide," ain't exactly "People Persons". That impression is reinforced by the subject matter of their lyrics which deal almost exclusively with man's impending demise. In fact, much of it seems like giddy anticipation for Armageddon; a fully-formed philosophy of "Love Earth, Hate Humanity" (which would become the stock-in-trade of SoCal sludgesters, Dystopia, for an obvious example, twenty years later). The music conjured to orchestrate their grim tales of ecological disaster and the inhumanity of humans is built around barbaric acid-prog, with mammoth power chords and dense percussion. Detours are made into Pagan Ritualistic motifs that seem designed to awaken lost memories of ancient times in the collective unconscious. With nigh operatic, funereal femme backing vox, Aphrodite's Child is a comparison that springs to mind, but this shit is far more diabolical, intangibly sinister and emotionally suffocating.

Postius Scrotius: Although they are almost always lumped in with the innumerable hordes of so-called "Krautrock" bands, I feel Necronomicon stand alone as a genre unto themselves. I have yet to hear music as outrageously original as "Selbtsmord" by any of the beyond boring swill that most often sounds, to these ears at least, like a buncha hippies desperately trying to emulate turgid wank like Yes or ELP without the chops. A certain outfit that has a name that sounds an awful lot like a deodorant comes to mind. Oh well, not everybody could be Can, Faust, Neu!, Amon Düül II... or Necronomicon.

In comments.


VARIOUS - Can't Stop It!: Australian Post Punk (1978-82)

"Post-punk" is one of those bourgeois rockcrit terms that makes my stomach turn. What it basically implies is that the music is influenced by punk, but has been neutered by their kind; not the hapless proles that came up with the shit in the first place. So lesee, if Gang of Four say, are "post-punk," does that make Bobby Vinton "post-rockabilly"? Or, for a more modern take, the Afghan Whigs "post-hairbands"? Really. Fucking. Stupid. Term. Be that as it may, whatcha got here is a collection of Aussies injecting some art-wank tendencies into their punk.

I must admit that a lotta this stuff fails to get me even a tenth hard. Far too often I'm reminded of the Talking Heads crossed with the Undertones-- which is a mixture they'll be playing to me in Hell if such a place exists. But then, as almost all hope has disintegrated, synth-punk monsters the Primitive Calculators (watch for a full-length feature/LP in the near future if I haven't gone self-destructo on you ungrateful bastards by then) who take Suicide's blueprint, throw it down the toilet and create something as ferocious as it is high-falutin'... that's more like it, about three-quarters erect now... then, the Slugfuckers. Their contribution, suitably entitled "Cacophony," is a miasma of treated analog keyboard skronk that rivals early Half Japanese in lovable unlistenability. Now I'm standing at attention!

Track List:

1 The Moodists - Gone Dead
2 Voigt/465 - Voices a Drama
3 The Take - Summer
4 Essendon Airport - How Low Can You Go?
5 The Apartments - Help
6 Ash Wednesday - Love By Numbers
7 Primitive Calculators - Pumping Ugly Muscle
8 The Makers of the Dead Travel Fast - The Dumb Waiters
9 Ron Rude - Piano Piano
10 Xero - The Girls
11 The Limp - Pony Club
12 The Fabulous Marquises - Honeymoons
13 The Slugfuckers - Cacophony
14 Equal Local - Lamp That
15 Tame O'Mearas - Sweat and Babble
16 The Particles - Apricot's Dream
17 People with Chairs Up Their Noses - Song of the Sea
18 Wild West - We Can Do
19 The Pits - Words
20 →↑→ - One Note Song

In comments.


BURMESE - A Mere Shadow & Reminiscence of Humanity (2001)


San Francisco's Burmese had a serious dilemma: do we wanna play like Whitehouse or Man Is the Bastard? After what I'm sure was a long, frustrating bout of pondering this stylistic quagmire, they came up with Thee Perfect Solution-- by playing both simultaneously. If yer a fan of serious scree, a glance at the song titles will letcha know this can't miss: the title of this post is one of 'em, as well as "Bukkake Ongaku" and "Stripped Clean"-- and I can assure y'all that they're every bit as pulverizing and obnoxious as would be expected. The "Two Mikes and a John" utilize a two bass/drums lineup-- no guitars to inject unneeded subtleties like melody-- that's for pussies. The vocals range from Cookie Monster grunts to a positively uncanny approximation of William Bennett's high-pitched caterwauling. One of the most extreme bands still  terrorizing people who buy their style and outlook from Hot Topic today.

In comments-- and try leaving one if it won't bruise yer precious widdle fingertips.

Pantheon II

I think something we often lose sight of as fans, and ESPECIALLY as music bloggers is the fact that a pretty sizable majority of Thee Greatest R&R Ever Made wasn't created by long-forgotten artists with two songs to their credit. Nor is it measured by "only five copies ever pressed but three were smashed by the bass player's girlfriend" rarity. Nope. It's all about passionate performances and excellent songwriting. Music that is LIVED to: be it when you discovered you could do more'n pee with certain organs, or when you needed a tonic to sooth the lingering sores left in the aftermath of such discoveries (literally and figuratively). I admit I'm as guilty as anyone of such elitist bullshit, so here's an attempt to not only remedy that situation--if only a small step towards doing so--as well another heapin' helpin' of some unabashed honesty...


THIN LIZZY - Bad Reputation (1977)

The very first Lizzy LP I ever owned. I'm almost positive that at the time I had no knowledge of the fact they were the outfit responsible for mega-hit "The Boys are Back in Town" -- I was about eleven years old at the time, only beginning my lifetime music obsession. This was part of a pile o' stuff an elder relative passed on to me, knowing I had a taste for arena-sized hooks and power chords (as I've pointed out elsewhere, my first vinyl purchase was Cheap Trick's "Live at Budokan"). And what can I say? From the sinuous keyboard lines that open one of Phil Lynott's many excellent anti-war hymns, "Soldier of Fortune" to the autobiographical tale (I'm guessing) of young lust set to a smoky, lounge-pop groove that is "Dancing in the Moonlight," Lizzy album #8 has it all. Everything that is, except the sweet guitar tones of Brian "Robbo" Robertson. Although he's credited, the patented Lizzy twin axe harmonies are handled exclusively (through the modern marvel of overdubbing) by his partner-in-shred, Scott Gorham. Shit, how wasted would ya hafta be to get the boot from this band??! Well... guessing from Robbo's future behavior in Motörhead, like wearing a pink tutu onstage and refusing to play "Ace of Spades," I'd say veerrry.

But fuck all that. What's important is that this album still sounds as great as it did more years ago than I care to remember, although one thing I gotta mention, simply cuz it's stuck in my craw as of late: the rumor mill has been reporting that one of the mucho bland dorks from CSI (Gary Dourdon, who was recently arrested with a veritable pharmacy in his car) is slated to play Phil in an upcoming biopic based on the book his Ma wrote, "My Boy." Hollywood: please fuck off. Your record of properly portraying the lives of rockers fills me with the same kinda confidence I have in Tom Cruise's views on modern medicine and religion. On a brighter note, here's Phil's Memorial statue in Dublin-- finally, someone who actually deserves to be immortalized!



Look in comments.


AC/DC - Bon Scott Rarities (Bootleg)

Whew! 'Twas a chore deciding which slab to represent my undying love for Ackyl Dackyl. "Powerage" is the first one that actually shook me all night long, but I'm sure any self-respecting fan already has it-- probably in multiple formats. Dammit though, I hadda scribe something about thee Masters of Antipodean Thunder so I decided to split the difference by yankin' out this bootleg of demos, alternate takes and b-sides. In truth, the title is a bit of a misnomer as a sizable chunk o' the cuts featured here will be old hat to Aussies and collector geeks. Shit, for all I know some of 'em have been added to recent reissues-- I wouldn't know; all my AC/DC stuff has always been, and shalt forever be, on sweet, cracklin' vinyl.

Now don't get me wrong, ol' Helium Lungs Brian Johnson deserves a lotta credit for stepping into a difficult situation and comin' up boxcars with "Back in Black"-- this only a fool could deny. Yet he never exuded the reptilian confidence of his precursor. What the hell is it about Bon Scott that holds so many of us in thrall for all these years? The guy was a midget with a nasal, borderline irritating voice but we can't let thee legend die. And don't give me the "cuz he's dead" line-- I was a fan while he was alive, so I know different. Nope, I think it's something I touched on at the beginning of this screed: it's music you can live to, and sounds lived in. There's never a doubt in yer mind that Bon Scott experienced firsthand every goddamn filthy misadventure he spat out; that alone provides more'n a few vicarious thrills. I certainly recall a whole lot more shock than surprise upon hearing of his untimely demise. His death seemed all but a foregone conclusion. Regardless, this fine collection of odds & sods should delight all and sundry-- particularly those who haven't heard 'em all yet.

Track list:

1. Dirty Eyes
2. Touch Too Much (Alt. Take)
3. If You Want Blood (Demo)
4. Back Seat Confidential
5. Get It Hot (Alt. Take)
6. School Days
7. Crabsody in Blue
8. RIP (Rock in Peace)
9. Love Song
10. Little Lover (Alt. Take)
11. Stick Around
12. Cold Hearted Man
13. Can I Sit Next to You, Girl? (Original version)
14. Rockin' in the Parlour
15. Down on the Borderline

Oh, and Hey Sydney! Where's Bon's statue?

In comments.

Reality Has Got to Die!

HAIRY CHAPTER - Can't Get Through (1971)

Y'know, I was listening to Raven's "Back to Ohio Blues" (search the blog; I'm sick of pinging back to myself) on shuffle the other day, and when this slab of Kraut depravity followed, I could barely tell 'em apart. The same kinda leaden, honky blues ya'd usually expect from dope-addled Yanks is here in abundance. And the lyrics? Kee-rist! We be talkin' bout some borderline lysergic psychosis, chillen! There's a certain brand of brain-damaged zeal that can't be ignored, at least not around this cyber-dump-- and Hairy Chapter exemplified it for a blissful few moments in 1971.

Originally bearing the unwieldy moniker Concentric Movement (as whom they recorded the über-obscure "Electric Music for Dancing" LP), Harry Titlbach (guitar), Harry Unte (guitar, vocals), Werner Faus (drums) and Rudolf Oldenburg (bass) had been kicking around since the mid-60's in one form or another in and around their home base of Bonn, Germany. They'd released "Eyes" in 1969, a relatively polite garage-punk offering for the minuscule Opp label, which, despite being mediocre at best, got 'em signed to Polygram and the services of legendary producer, Dieter Dirks (Scorpions, Accept, Cosmic Jokers etc.). We'll never know if it was his stellar knob-twistin' or some intangible force of cosmic sleazery that was making the air crackle around 'em-- but somehow the tentative steps towards debauched geetar slop and horny surrealism accelerated in the already fevered minds (and genitalia) of Hairy Chapter faster'n a mainlined MDMA/Viagra cocktail. Whatever that fleeting muse may've been, it must enter our orbit about as often as Hailey's Comet-- I've heard very few exercises in troglodyte thud quite like "Can't Get Through."

Harry Titlbach is an unheralded fretboard-molester I would rank somewhere in between Edgar Breau (Simply Saucer if ya don't know) and Randy Holden... yes, he's that fucking good. I have this picture of him in my mind's eye-- created solely on the merits of his six-string savagery, mind-- I've never actually seen a picture of 'im much bigger'n a postage stamp, that looks a bit like this:

Of course, y'all will hafta use yer imagination as I have no fucking time/desire to Photoshop an axe into his mitts. And not cuz I figger he dug wasting time copping Rock God poses; simply that he'd need to play with his face far away from the sparks generated by his barbaric flailing or risk scorchin' his damn head bald! Every hot lick sounds like it was squeezed out with sheer desperation; like he could hear the clock tickin' on his mortality. Doesn't matter if it's the Paul Kossoff-in-a-blender blues squeals of the title cut or the charmingly un-groove-vay stab at funkifying on the languid "There's a Kind of Nothing," there's an omnipresent urgency that'll make yer palms sweat if ya allow yourself to succumb to Thee Titlbach Squawk.

Geezus! Nearly 500 words and I haven't even gotten to the other Harry-- that being Mr. Unte, who was so horned up whilst penning the lyrics, he musta entered an agonizing psychological purgatory packed with fresh flesh that taunted/haunted him day and night. How else do you explain the transcendental groin thunder of album centerpiece "It Must Be An Officer's Daughter"??! This is where he drools to his paramour, "I wanna ball you all night long/I wanna hold your luscious breasts... and feel your 27 fingers explode inside my body!!" Holy shit, Harry! What kinda chicks were ya "balling"??! Believe me, you may laugh the first time ya hear such ruminations, but when you check it out a few more times, you'll realize that this motherfucker was serious-- verbiage like that doesn't tend to be used on top (snicker) of a lumbering Sabbariffic arrangement very often.

More Wisdom from Harry Unte, that in a perfect world, would be all over bumper stickers:

- The title of this post.
- "My education will never let me be free."
- "My parents tried to make a white person out of me."

Collect 'em all in the comments.

Short Sharp Shocks Revisited

PAINTBOX (Jpn) - Singing Shouting Crying (1999)

{First off, I must confess I haven't been in the mood to write at all lately-- so I'm gonna give y'all a Reader's Digest version this time around.}

Expertly executed Motörthrash/Burning Spirits-style hardcore featuring the late, great Chelsea on guitar--whom you should remember from thee most excellent Death Side. Paintbox are much in the same vein, with blistering tempos fused with the same kinda soaring, melodic lead fretwork you'd expect on a Thin Lizzy or Iron Maiden album.

In comments.


VARIOUS - Killed By Hardcore Vols. 1-3

Essential (bootleg) international hardcore comps from the same folks who brought ya the "Killed By Death" series, Redrum Records; before the series got deregulated and every beer-bellied, clueless old punker started yankin' out limp powerpop crap I wouldn't wipe my ass with. I think the track lists tell the story far more eloquently than I ever could-- if not, y'all best get Googlin' to edumacate yer damn selves.

NOTE: Pass for all three = sln2008

Volume 1 track list:

1. Public Opinion (Urban Waste, USA, 1982, from only 7")
2. Koruse (Gasmask, Japan, 1985)
3. Utopia (Terveet Kadet, Finland, 1982, from 3.7" [Aareton Joulu EP])
4. Moral (Sound Of Disaster, Sweden, 1985)
5. Going On (Nog Watt, Holland, 1984, from Fear EP)
6. Broken Promises (No Pigs, Holland)
7. Taking Away Your Rights (NOTA, USA, 1984, from Moscow EP)
8. Deo Fora (Colera, Brazil, 1985, from Deo Fora EP [Belgium release])
9. Riot (Actives, UK, 1983, from Riot EP)
10. Clutch The Flag (Capital Scum, Belgium, 1985, from Clutch The Flag EP)
11. Fuck It (The Left, USA, 1983, from "Hell ... It's The World 12")
12. Dead Generation (Ultraviolent, UK, 1982, from Crime From Revenge EP)
13. In This Town (Fix, USA, 1980, from 1.7") [actually a different version from Cold Days LP]
14. Born Prejudice (America's Hardcore, USA, from Welcome To Slimy Valley compilation LP)
15. Punks United (Fallout, Italy, 1982, from s/t EP)
16. 1984 (Genetic Control, Canada, 1984, from First Impressions EP)
17. America's Power (Youth Patrol, 1981, from Process Of Elimination compilation EP)
18. Ajatuksen Loppu (Lama, Finland, 1983, from 4.7")
19. Home, Religion, Native Country (Kansan Uutiset, Finland, 1983, from Beautiful Dreams LP)
20. Shell Helpt (Indirekt, Holland, 1985, from s/t LP)
21. Black Sheep (Nihilistics, USA, 1983, from s/t LP)
22. Going Back (Execute, Japan, 1985, from Blunt Sleazy 7")
23. No Illusions (State, USA, 1983, from No Illusions EP)

Get it here.

Volume 2 track list:

1. Fame (Zmiv, Holland, 1982, from only 7" [Banzai! Here's Zmiv Beware EP])
2. Dying In Maze (Headcleaners, Sweden, 1981, from 1.7" [Disinfection EP])
3. Mai (Indigesti, Italy, 1982, from split EP with Wretched)
4. Misguided Missile Mouth (E-13, USA, 1984, from only 7" [No Mercy For Swine EP])
5. Dead Section (Ikka Shinjyuu, Japan, 1985, from flexi)
6. Land Of The Brave (Mecht Mensch, USA, 1983, from only 7" [Acceptance EP])
7. Mad At The World (YDI, USA, 1983, from A Place In The Sun EP)
8. Elintilaa (Riistetyt, Finland, 1982, from 1.7" [Laki Ja Jarjestys EP])
9. No Explanations (Suburban Mutilation, USA, 1983, from The Opera Isn't Over LP)
10. Miseria e Fome (Inocentes, Brasil, 1983, from Miseria e Fome EP)
11. Det Er Bare Logn (Betong Hysteria, Norway, 1981, from only 7" [Spontan Abort EP])
12. Think Of England (Instant Agony, UK, 1982, from 1.7" [Think of England EP])
13. Starve To Death (Vorkriegsphase, Germany, 1983, from only 7" [Scheisskrieg EP])
14. Religios Terror (Fader War, Norway, 1981, from Ingenting For Norge compilation LP)
15. Man's Ruin (Target Of Demand, USA, 1981, from Man's Ruin LP)
16. I'm In Love With Nancy Reagan (TMA, USA, 1983, from Hardcore Takes Over compilation LP)
17. Your Mother Sucks Cocks In Hell (Agent Orange, Holland, 1983, from 1.7")
18. Religion (E.A.T.E.R., Sweden, 1983, from Doomsday Troops EP)
19. No More No (Kuro, Japan, 1984, from 1 of 2 flexi's that came with "Fire" 7")
20. Pressform (Extrem, Austria, 1983, from split LP with Mickeyman)
21. Acid Casualty (Koro, USA, 1983, from only 7" [s/t EP])
22. Vagra (Disarm, Sweden, 1985, from 2.7" [Disarm EP])
23. No End In Sight (Abused, USA, 1983, from Loud & Clear EP)
24. Guai A Voi! (Cani, Italy, 1984, from only 7" [Guai A Voi! EP])
25. Man-Rape Blues/Mucho Macho (Chronic Sick, USA, 1982, from Cutest Band In Hardcore 12")

Get it here.

Volume 3 track list:

1. Definitions (Vile, USA, 1983, from Vile Solution LP)
2. Tutti Pazzi (Negazione, Italy, 1983, from split tape with Declino (later issued as a 12"))
3. Farvel Moder Jord (Bannlyst, Norway, 1985, from only 7")
4. Fuck Everything (No Thanks, USA, from only 7")
5. Jitoku (Rebel, Japan, 1983, from only 7"?)
6. In My Room (Deep Wound, USA, 1983, from only 7")
7. Your (Final Conflict, USA, 1983, from only 7')
8. Painajainen (Appendix, Finland, 1983, from only 7")
9. Kuken ar mitt redskap (far pissa i din ficks) (Homy Hogs, Sweden, 1984, from 12" EP)
10. Paha, Kuolema (Rutto, Finland, 1984, from 2.7" [Ilmastoitu Painajainen EP])
11. Ayatollah (Sotlimpa, Sweden, 1984, from 12" EP)
12. Dying In The Street (Mornington Crescent, Holland, 1983, from only 7" [Greetings From Amsterdam EP])
13. Muito Obrigado (Olho Seco, Brazil, 1983, from 1.7" [Botas, Fuzis, Capacetes EP])
14. Drag Addict (Gauze, 1982, from City Rockers compilation LP)
15. Blodig Stad (Absurd, Sweden, 1983, from only 7")
16. Bang Bang Bang (Patriots, USA, 1983, from only 7")
17. Grand Old Flag (Pig Children, USA, 1985, from Blood For The State 12")
18. Attack (Rappresaglia, Italy, 1982, from Skins e Punks = TNT compilation EP)
19. Systematikk (Svart Framtid, Norway, 1984, from only 7")
20. Han-Sen (Gas, Japan, 1983, from "No More Hiroshima" flexi)
21. Crossroads (Electric Deads, Denmark, 1983, from 3.7" [Mind Bomb EP])
22. In School (Die Kreuzen, USA, 1982, from only 7" [Cows & Beer EP])
23. Ihmisen Aani (Pyhakoulu, Finland, 1984, from split EP with Abortti 13)
24. I'm Lazy (Child Abuse, USA, 1983, from only 7")
25. Disobey (Systematic Death, Japan, 1984, from 7" flexi)
26. Hoax (Malinheads, Germany, 1983, from only 7")
27. Loud and Fast (The Worst, USA, 1983, from Expect The Worst 12")

Get it here.

To Muthas on Mother's Day

HELLCHILD - Tribute Medley (1999)

Japan's Hellchild were thee epitome of "punk-metal" in the best sense of the term. That is, they combined the feral intensity of the former with the chunky, sophisticated riffing of the latter. You will not be subjected to anything remotely resembling that infernal screamo bullshit-- no floppy bangs, no warmed-over At the Gates riffs and most importantly, no "sensitive guy" born-without-a-dick lyrics. Although in this case the words are moot as this Big 10-inch Record is a collection of covers in homage to thee cocaine decade-- the 1980's.

As the title of this opus would imply, the tracks are strung together as a medley, all done up nicely in thee Hellchild style of inimitably biting geetar-maulin', tonsil-shreddin' grunts and a crushing rhythm section that'll slap yer worthless ass around with less mercy than a Hell's Angel on Seconal and cheap red wine. A big part of the fun is figgerin' out the sources. First cut "Speed Metal Hell," ... L'see I hear Whiplash, Exodus and Metallica-- but I ain't gonna spoil yer fun... check it out for your own damn selves. Ditto track 2, "Rock & Roll Motherfuckers": The Crüe's "Kickstart My Heart" and U2's "New Year's Day" make up the majority of this 11-minute trawl through songs ya wish ya'd forgotten, but there's other themes/riffs to be picked out by the astute among you. The final slab is a blistering reading of Thee Mighty G.I.S.M.'s "Shoot to Kill"... 'nuff said, methinks.

In comments-- then head over to Sector 2814 for their "Circulating Contradiction" LP.