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.

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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.

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