Joanna Newsom - The Milk-Eyed Mender

I've been planning to detail and share the exploits of early Shimmy Disc quynamic quintet Fly Ashtray and their first long-player, Clumps Take A Ride for a week or two, now, but when one witnesses a multitude of mud wasps take up residence in a grown man's urethra finds a deliciously engaging new album saturating his earbuds, one is obligated by the laws of human nature to cancel any prior engagements to share word of one's find on one's shitty, inconsistent music blog. Anyhoo, today's star is the less-than-obscure, likely Pitchfork approved, Jimmy Kimmel Show-guest-starring, and certainly less eardrum battering debut by Joanna Newsom - a harp strumming 20-something lass WHO CAN STRUM MY HARP ANYTIME YOUKNOWUDIMSAYIN' HEUHVFHf with a mouthful of wonderfully poetic lyrics and a throatful of Betty Boop's vocal chords. Sound like an unappealing trait? Try braving The Crucifucks' discography beforehand. It'll certainly make her unconventional timber and cadence a walk in the park or atI'D TAKE A WALK IN HER PARK IF Y - alright that's quite enough blue commentary masked with strike-out text.
The music itself alternates between beyond delicate harp picking world music-esque folksy numbers to noisier, oddly tuned piano and harpsichord based songs (if that gives you any indication of the harp tracks' fragility) without a dabble or a venture into the percussion realm.
So why the EXTRAORDINARILY SOUGHT AFTER place in my blog?
The songwriting, maaaaaaaaaaan. Totally top-fucking-notch songwriting here. As much as I love being Mr. Subversive To Mainstream Culture, there's not a sour note on here. Brilliant little shards of harp twinkles and vocal/lyrical hooks get caught in your cranium on first listen like little aural thistles and help anchor the listener (me) down for future listens, during which the full majesty (hyperbole) of the songs come to light (penis).
Without further uh-dew:

http://www.mediafire.com/?dcimyojmrym

Also: I urge you to slap down a few greenbacks to pick up her catalog. Newsom's an active artist with an easily obtained handful of albums to ingest - you'll have no excuse when the ePopo bash in your head with internet justice if you don't use my upload as a sampling, then be rid of it. Saying these things will lift my responsibility in the matter, right?

Alsoalso: the entirety of the web is seemingly obsessed with her hindquarters.
Yep.

The Thrown Ups - Melancholy Girlhole

Before we begin, I have a little experience I'd like to share. Like anyone who's ever scoured the internet for sessions of brain-expansive acculturation, I opened youtube and headed for the Linkin Park videos. In my quest to befriend kindred spirits across pre-teen America, I accidentally let slip what I now know is a particularly unpopular opinion amongst Linkin Park fans. Observe, if you will, my stance on the song "Hands Held High":

Ha ha ha ha ha... this is the cheesiest heap of bullshit I've heard in a looooong time. AHHHHHHHHHH MEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNN AHHHHHHHHHHHHH MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNNNN - Are you fucking serious?

Now instead of kindly agreeing to disagree, those who were near unfathomably at ends with my harmless comment rebutted with libelous claims about not only my intellect, but my sexuality, interpersonal relations, and even my psychosomatic development! What shame I felt! But it was the following that lanced my heart with truest aim:

god you must one of the f*****s that cash their check at the back laughing asking for respect

As well as:

shut the fuck up you must be one of the bitches that cash their checks and sk all the others for respect

Two individuals distanced by miles - one accusation skimming across their souls. Maybe I'm just a tad outside of the Linkin Park hip-mispelling-fluent fan club, but what the fuck am I reading? Shouldn't insults be somewhat universal when directed at strangers purely for retort? Or at least, be topical enough to make sense of? I mean, if it weren't for the context, I'd find it pretty damn impossible to to feel derided by these words at all. What's even more unsettling to me is the fact that I have - believe it or not - cashed hundreds of cheques at the bank (where else?) and mayhaps, once or twice, emitted a bemused chuckle or two at the fact that I have money to do stuff with. But "respect"? If by "ask" they're implying that I verbalize my desire to be treated in a dignified manner by the clerks, than no, I have never hit the spirit. Of course I expect courtesy, and as far as I'm concerned, the tellers deserve the same.

But enough puzzling over life's greatest mysteries, let's talk about The Thrown Ups.

What we have here is the sole LP-size recording of the band best known for assembling the prime components of Mudhoney - Melancholy Girlhole. Now everyone in the entire universe knows that Mudhoney was a monotonous waste of time for the majority of their career, but don't let that chafe your keister - the Thrown Ups were an entirely different breed of punk-reactionaries, caught up somewhere in the primordial murk of Harry Pussy, the first Meat Puppets album, and the retarded blues-rock of Jon Spencer and Pussy Galore. Throw in some Happy Flowers-esque psychosis, too while you're at it also as well if you'd prefer. Melancholy Girlhole is 13 songs in little under 26 minutes of prime-cut, scatological rock-slop garbage that sounds a whole lot more fun and listenable than you'd expect from a collective whose initial goal was to "be a band that never practiced or wrote songs".
See for 'yaselvz:

http://www.mediafire.com/?nmyngmnnow3

Oh yeah, I also added an entry for Noothgrush, but since I started writing it in September, it didn't show up right after my post on Universal Congress Of. Shucks.
Oh, and here are the boys in adorable flower costumes:

Universal Congress Of - s/t

It's pretty rare that an album totally floors me upon first listen, but as far as exceptions go, this is the peat and the moss all in one. Little did I know when I ILLEGALLY DOWNLOADED THIS ALBUM FROM WITH NO INTENTION OF DELIVERING ROYALTIES TO THE LABEL OR ARTIST RESPONSIBLE that it was in fact, Saccharine Trust axeman Joe Baiza at the helm, laying down some fantabulously non-Greg Ginn-esque jazz-fuzz-noise madness. The selling point? Saccharine Trust is in the running for the "Steve Hyewz Top 10 Favorite Bands" list (of which I have not composed, nor have any immediate plans to), and by the end of their reign in '86, they'd never hit a sour note. And of course, I mean the "selling point" for you: my dear readers who take every bit of my internet indoctrined armchair-hipsterisms with blind faithfulness that could only described as "of biblical proportion".
Bullplop aside:
Universal Congress Of oddly enough, don't sound like much of logical progression for the Trust's awesome parting gift, 'We Became Snakes', but perhaps like the mythical 5th or 6th album if they were to continue their progression in the avant-jazz-rock vein sans Brewer's nasally weirdo vocals. In essence, Universal Congress Of was from the future!!! Like 1990 or something. I don't know.
But anyway, this album is an epic if I ever saw (heard) one. Composed of one mammoth sized track and a shorter, calmer exit track, to give you an idea of just how ridiculously epic this album is, the former -"A Certain Way"- looks the limitations of the 12" format right in the eye and mutters "I say fuck no to rules, man" before doing an hardflip 360, chugging a gatorade, and continuing its reign of awesome on the B-side. Aurally, it's pretty difficult to pigeonhole, with a dense, spaced-out, quasi-improvised jazz rock feel and a whole lot of crazy-ass soloing from Baiza and a cold, contemplative (yet groovin') atmosphere advanced strongly by the murky (not muddy) production values.

http://www.mediafire.com/?mm2ezk3xexx

Prior to this entry, I had no idea Universal Congress Of continued to put out albums after the followup EP, 'This Is Mecolodics', so expect an update concerning the remainder of their catalog's quality at some point. Next on the list: Noothgrush's Erode The Person LP

Noothgrush - Erode The Person

PRESENTING:
The "My Most Loathed Song Of The Day" feature!
Today's winner: The Heights - How Do You Talk To An Angel Lyricist Stephanie Tyrell: "Well! Now that I've penned some of the absolute most repugnant and posed lyrics of all time, who wants to croon them in an embarrassingly pussy manner?"
Vocalist Jamie Walters: "Ooh! I do!"
Lyricist Stephanie Tyrell: "Great! How's the music coming along husband Steve and composer Barry Coffing?"
Composer Barry Coffing: "Oh, just fantastic. We've already thrown in a bunch of sax to give it a caucasian r'n'b air the kids are sure to adore, but it still feels a little too consistent..."
Composer Steve Tyrell: "I think I've got it: why don't we strew emotionally irrelevant cock-rock guitar solos throughout THE ENTIRE SONG??"
Lyricist Stephanie Tyrell: "Great idea, honey! Just make sure they sound like stock sound samples that pay no mind to the overall composure."
Wikipedia: In 1993, the song was nominated for a FUCKING EMMY for "Outstanding Individual Achievement in Music and Lyrics".

In other news, Noothgrush were a Californian sludge-doom band who formed in 1994 and according to research from the finest institutes on the East coast, phuckin' rawked. If you've ever been subject to the filthy, druggy, frowning antics of sludge Machiavellis Eyehategod, you've essentially heard a less contemplative version of Noothgrush with far fewer odysseys into uptempo punk rock riffage. Despite treading through a bunch of rubble (ie 'broken ground' hurrrr...), these guys did a damn good job of taking a relatively limited style, honing it into something fresh and powerful, and then releasing it to the blessed in ridiculously limited quantities.
Erode The Person is 5 tracks of king-tier sludge truckin' it like molasses through the fog of the distinctive New Orleans sound (ie ugly, plodding, drug-influenced punk-ish doom metal with raspy screams and southern tinged riffage) in a way I'd rate above even the primordial soup of Buzzov*en and 13. In other words, prime Sabbath
But not Grief. Those dudes are a forkin' goldmine to themselves.

http://www.mediafire.com/?iwzzznmn24j

@ Señor N∅: I scooped up the Extreme Music From sets up to Women, and they're all pretty excellent! I'd say the Africa set is probably my favorite thusfar, but I haven't been able to find a download of Russia yet. I think I'll end up buying 'em all by the end of the week, though.

@ Everyone else: [conclude post]

Whitehouse - Total Sex

...so yeah.
It's been a while, but well... I've been preoccupied as of late. Primarily because my hands have been tied up in not updating. Also: wow, has anyone seen the 1998 version of "Psycho"? Anne Heche looks like sheer human perfection despite the gaudy outfits she seems to be adorning in every scene - a seriously astounding bit-for-bit incarnation of my "ideal female". I'm not vapid enough for my "ideal" of the opposite sex to rest in the purely physical realm, of course, but if pressed to put a face to it, I have a pretty established concept that happens to look a lot like Anne Heche in this movie.

Also: this remake isn't very intriguing. How could anyone with a soul put so much time and money into creating a frame-by-frame remake?

Say! Speaking of treating women like objects, I've relapsed into another harsh noise phase in the past weeks, and so far, Whitehouse is still sweatin' in the ring. I sort of figured the listenability of a bunch of histrionics alternating between eardrum rattling whistling noises, warbling lows, and gurgly sloshes would get stale by the third cycle, but whuddyaknow, it holds up better than ever. Total Sex is the group's second LP release I believe, and while not quite as brainsquelchingly harsh as "Dedicated To Peter Kurten; Mass Slayer And Sadist", it's still pretty friggin' good, and definitely a great gateway into the power-electronics genre.

http://www.mediafire.com/?vjyufyrixm5

As an aside, this is one of the few albums I can listen to with some sense of coherence whilst mowing the lawn (something relatively difficult to do with say, The Necks or Steve Roden), so if it's a disturbingly dark, headache-inducing grass-trimming you need to get your gears 'a turning, feel free to thank me (with your social security number).
LASTLY:
I feel like a 2 month plus hiatus is long enough, so expect regular updates from this point on.

No, seriously this time.

Crass - Stations Of The Crass

The following is a mock-up dialogue offering ABSOLUTELY INDISPUTABLE proof that Crass has been wrongly maligned by dumbass mowhawk dips :

- Naysayer: I've listened to 3 freakin' tracks of this Feeding Of The 5K nonsense, and the scratchy, thinly produced, minimalist guitar noise is weird and VERY DISSIMILAR TO THE CLASH!!
- Generic 20-somthing "punk": Oi, it's all about the LYRICS, maaaan. (recites an interpretation of "Banned From The Roxy") Sure, they're just an accessory to my punk aesthete, but those lyrics, maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan. That's what it's all about. (consumes shitty beer)
- Naysayer: Whoa! I guess it's just one of those bands too punk rawk for me! I will not bother letting their music sink in and tell everyone who doesn't "get them" immediately that there's simply nothing to "get"! (resumes rocking the casbah)

...and that's what Don McLean was referring to in "American Pie".

You see, Crass - while thematically punk as fuck - were only really geared musically towards the punk kids in their earliest incarnation. While they were still perfecting their scathing, painfully strict moral codes (which were apparently a little too strict for the band, even), they were also breaking out the berets and shifting their sound into noisy art-rock for the pretentious demographic - like me! That said, Stations Of The Crass is by no means their most inaccessible work; if anything, this features all the wiles of a pop album! A considerably noise-raped, art damaged, ridiculous take on a pop record, but nonetheless packed with catchy vocal arrangements, hooks both lyrical and instrumental, and all the smarts that Crass were known for. How could anyone who's heard this album denounce these guys as a purely idea/lyric-oriented band?

Oh wait. Yes Sir I Will.

For the sake of completion, I didn't schlep off the muddy, worthless live material at the end. I LEAVE THAT IN YOUR HANDS. Hey, do you think Crass themselves would be okay with all this filesharing? I like to think so, being the commie liberal hippy bastards/bitches they are.

http://www.mediafire.com/?titzm2dzyyn

(awaits dozens of retarded responses from people who can't detect sarcasm)

Big Star - Radio City

...and now for something completely different: a 3rd-hand Monty Python reference based on the skit comedy show that I've never enjoyed enough to sit through more than half-dozen episodes. Seriously, why the miss-or-miss-or-miss-or-hit? It felt like they were purposely holding back their best gags to pull in the full-length films. Anyone else feel this way? I mean, I'm no Monty Py -

Anyhow, Big Star's 1974 full length, Radio City is the album we'll be covering this evening-so-late-it's-technically-tommorow-morning. If you're familiar with Pavement (who isn't?), Big Star is what I consider the second largest quantity of reanimated flesh in the Frankestein's monster we know as Pavement's sound. The first (including most of the torso and limb-meat) would be The Fall, and the third could be Swell Maps (the toenails).
This theory isn't nearly as logical as I made it seem. Sorry for wasting your time.

But "anyhow", if you were ever intrigued by the idea of the quintessential 70's power pop record, LOOK NO FURTHER, BECAUSE HERE IT IS AS FAR AS I KNOW.
But don't my platitudes feel comforting?
If you dig slow-mid paced, pretty, organic melodies and high-register dude vocals, this album is completely fantastic. The guitar has that twanged-out, scraggly southern rock sound, and mood never dips below slight-melancholy.

http://www.mediafire.com/?dycxb6a2hf1

This actually isn't my upload. I just nabbed it off google, so wear protection when you thrust deeply into it's audio canal. With your ears.It intrigues me for some reason.
By the way, does anyone know what movie this is from?