Thursday, December 31, 2009

Dawson MEGAPOST Addendum

I have impending blisters on my heels. Or my... lower calves? The area of foot-relative flesh adjacent to my wayward toes. I can't remember whether the term "heel" is in reference to the bottom of the foot or the you know what no one gives a shit I'll start over.

I have new boots! They're 20-eye towers of excess from legendary podiatrist Dr. (Acronym) Marten himself - currently digging their crisp, plastic-y folds into the aforementioned mystery regions of my feet with a tireless abandon only patience and big, horribly infected blisters will tame. With that, I feel obligated to imbibe from the text reservoir to bring to your attention how overtly punk rock this boot transition has been. Y'see, my last pair were purchased at the semi-local Army/Navy shoppe a week prior to beginning my first semester at the community college I haplessly agreed to enlist in after discovering I was too damn poor to afford any of the top-tier art colleges I was accepted to (40K grants notwithstanding). Little over a year and a half later, those 150 USD kicks built to protect America like foot-condoms for our chillun' on foreign soil fucking SPLIT from the soles like I'd spent the past year on a rocky plane of heightened gravity. So then I was like "SO MUCH FOR AMERICA, HUH?", dropped out of school, began working full time and picked up these working man's boots to conquer the remainder of my life with. Oi!

S'anyway, I just realized yesterday what a disservice I did to the few readers I have by not including this delicious little morsel of scratchy, vaguely funky, crispy, post-punk perfection in my Dawson MEGAPOST of a few months prior. "MEGAPOST"?? YEAH, MORE LIKE MEGAFRAUD!!! I don't know, shut up. This EP is great, albeit arguably inessential if you own the holy trinity of Dawson lengthy-players already. What I didn't realize until recently however, is what the missing ingredient from my Scot-Punk equation was - the UK's bIG fLAME. If I'm not just 100 years late to figuring this one out, I urge any fans of the Minutemen, The Ex, or Dog Faced Hermans to give their post-humous compilation Rigour a listen - I'll probably give it a place here in the near future, even.
Romping Egos is a not-so-hefty 6+ minutes, so it may confuse you that it required such a surplus of text to introduce it, but on the other hand, most of you just skipped directly to the link. YER SCROLLING FINGER ACHE, HUH? FUCK YOU! Listen to that insane guitar tone, though. Sounds like it would lacerate your fingertips and give you tetanus, no?

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Rites Of Spring - s/t

So you might notice that I haven't updated in forever.

As such, here are a list of things of unfortunates you may attribute to the reasoning behind this:

1.) Detoxing
2.) Friend dying a pointless and abrupt death
3.) Dropping out of college
4.) Working constantly
5.) Having my license suspended for not obliging to a court date I was never informed of through the reliable ol' postal service
6.) Having that court date as a result of an extraordinarily rare production anomaly that wouldn't allow my car to pass inspection via the computer that reads my odometer since last battery replacement
7.) General disillusionment, loneliness, and unrest due to distaste for the tradition of American life, ongoing lack of companionship, and the sloshy, ugly, mess that defines a New York winter, respectively


Needless to say, I'm not really prepared to deliver my usual stew of lame wordplay and awful strikethrough-text based jokes - but wait, here's one that would've predated this sentence if I hadn't called attention to it's absence beforehand:

Needless to say, I wonder if anyone has made a lame pun involving the word "needless" and the phrase "needle-less"

So we're all really anticipating the next round of those ever-rib-tickling strikethrough text gimmicks, but today you'll just have to settle for one of those albums I feel is topical at the moment - Rites Of Spring's s/t album. 13 songs of disillusionment, longing, nostalgia, hopefulness, introspection, sentimentality, and heartache, all conceived with a gorgeously undated sound that "kicked off the now glamourized "emo" subculture".
- Me, 2006

No one actively participates in the "emo subculture" anymore, do they?

Oh, and if it makes any difference to you, this goes up on my figurative "top numeral of all time" list since it's been keeping me company since I was 16.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

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:
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.

Friday, October 16, 2009

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:

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:

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

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.

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

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Noothgrush - Erode The Person

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.
@ 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]

Friday, August 28, 2009

Whitehouse - Total Sex 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.

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).
I feel like a 2 month plus hiatus is long enough, so expect regular updates from this point on.

No, seriously this time.

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

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

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

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.
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?

Th' Faith Healers - Lido & Imaginary Friend

Th' Faith Healers were an "underrated"* UK shoegaze act who picked up the slack at the very end of contemporaries (and current 'untouchable-hipster-god-figures') My Bloody Valentine's career, but being the kindhearted guys & gal they were, decided not to release borderline worthless paste for 5 years before contemplating worthwhile material (ala aforementioned 'untouchable-hipster-god-figures').

Which brings me to the happy little asterisk (*) HAGHAHAHA AN UPTURNED BREAST HAHHuo]nj

Which brings me to the happy little asterisk * : Honestly, I have no idea whether Th' Faith Healers ever got the attention they deserved - I wasn't exactly doing drags in a London cafe with these guys spinning in the house stereo circa '93. Based purely on observation though, these guys so rarely get namedropped by critics and forum-going shoegaze enthusiasts, I have to assume they simply fell off everyone's radar after their break-up in '94.
Yes, I know that's a weak basis - YOU SAW THE QUOTATIONS, STOP ROLLING YOUR EYES DAMMIT - but so what? Both "under" and "over" with a suffix of "-rated" have been bastardized into meaningless buzzwords, and these guys certainly aren't getting loads blown whenever their name is mentioned.
For example:
Me: Dude, I just saw the remake of My Bloody Valentine and -

For the record, I like both MBV's full-lengths, but Loveless doesn't touch Isn't Anything with a 5-foot pole for sheer listenability. I know! How subversive of me! (pats self on back)

Anyway, Th' Faith Healers. While certainly a shoegaze band, this quad-squad was a lot more manic and a lot less ethereal and whispy than their peers, partially due to their lack of keyboards or synths - which strikes me as odd considering how much krautrock influence is mixed in with their guitar noise-driven style, BUT ENOUGH TEXT NO ONE IS READING:

Th' Faith Healers - Lido (1992)
- This is the less-subdued, more brash half of Teh F@yth Heelorz sound, with plenty of crashing, looped-riffs, churning noise, and with just enough hook and melody to keep it from being completely inaccessible. The cover of Can's "Mother Earth" is probably as good as the original, if you can believe it.

Th' Faith Healers - Imaginary Friend (1993)
- This is the calmer, more restrained follow up that The Healers Utilizing Faith decided on, and it's every bit as good as Lido, if not more listenably versatile. The poptones are in full swing here, from the catchy "Sparklingly Chime" to the epic dirge closer, "Everything, All At Once Forever". Which reminds me, if you're ever stuck in a psych ward, this here is an album to bring. No further questions.

They have a bunch of great EPs as well, but I'm tired of sitting hunched over my computer desk, so fuck you.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Merzbow - Noisembryo

Ugh. I feel like ______________
_____________ or even ___________

What I wrote was actually more creatively disgusting than an implied blank space, but I feel nauseous and would rather not leave that sentence there in plain sight while I complete this stupid post. Consider it a relic of better, non-nauseated times.

Anyway, I chose this album because it's not only one of my favorite Merzbow releases, but it requires little/no effort on my part to describe. It's noise. Sheets and sheets of densely textured, terrifying noise that doesn't actually appreciate in enjoyability with each additional decibel. In fact, the limit becomes pretty clear once you pop this fine diskus in on 7 and find your brain leaking out your nose. It's a fuckin' bulldozer, alright, and just might be the best of the harsh-analog phase.

"A while ago I had a Mercedes 230 that I didn't drive much. The police told me that I had to move it or they'd tow it away. Well, I didn't want to keep it and I didn't have anywhere to store it so I decided to use it for something else. I rigged the cars CD player with our latest release of Merzbow's "Noisembryo" CD so that the music started when the car was turned on and it was impossible to turn it off. I put it up for sale as an extremely limited edition of the "Noise Embryo" CD but no one ever bought it, and in the end the car broke down. So we took out the CD and got rid of the car. Now I'm thinking about if its possible to release a record in a Boeing 747..."
- Anders, Releasing Eskimo Records
It's a true shame that no one on Earth can claim ownership of the fabled Merzcar.
Likewise, it's a true shame that no one but FINANCIALLY STABLE RECORD COLLECTING ASSHOLES can own a copy of Noisembryo that ISN'T entombed in an automobile. Everything in the Merzcatalog up to the early 90's is not only out of print, but so difficult to come by, you might mistake the HA HA HA HA HA I OWN A COPY OF THIS ALBUM ALREADY HA HA HA HA scarcity for nonexistHA HA HA FOR ONLY 15 BUCKS WITH SHIPPING AND HANDLING HEE HEE HUUUence.

In conclusion, ebay.

Other Merzalbums worth merzing (checking) merz (out):
Rainbow Electronics 1 (1990) & 2 (1996)
Music For Bondage Performance Vol 1 (1991) & Vol 2 (1996)
Batztoutai With Material Gadgets (1993)
Venereology (1994)
Green Wheels (1995)
Pulse Demon (1996)
Hybrid Noisebloom (1997)
1930 (1998)
Doors Open At 8 AM (1999)

For the sake of agreeability, the above are all available on CD. Not readily available, but nonetheless... '99 wasn't the cutoff for Merzquality just so you know, but since the man has more releases than there are bones in the human body (perhaps two! Or one and a triple amputee), I haven't quite gotten that far yet.
Merzbow is an AGONIZINGLY prolific unit.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

King Missile - They

Hay, remember when King Missile wasn't just an innocuous novelty act?
I don't.
In fact, I don't even remember when King Missile was just an innocuous novelty act. Hell, "Detachable Penis" debuted when I was friggin' 4 - a time when the horror of misplacing my genitals could have permanently damaged my psyche. I didn't have 22 dollars to save my life, let alone 17 to toss around into the red for the return of my manhood. Some people could've put a lot of pressure on me to get it permanently attached, but I wouldn't know - even though sometimes it could be a pain in the ass -
I could've liked having a detachable penis.


Seriously though, the last significant mainstream movement fizzed out when I was entering Kindergarten. I never "lost my hero", and not surprisingly, never felt any attachment to a genre based primarily on not sounding like hair metal.
But you didn't come here for my delightful observations, you came here to not pay for music created by the band King Missile!

King Missile's golden era was unfortunately short lived, much like a butterfly (that's also on fire), due primarily to founding member Dogbowl's contributions and (apparently) musical directive leaving when he left.
That sentence wasn't very well written.
I wrote the bulk of this post when I was heavily intoxicated with sleepiness, but I refuse to edit since I'm all about giving you the REAL, RAW, UNINHIBITED AND UNCENSORED STEVE HUGHES BLOG EXPERIENCE/EXTRAVAGANZA. I mean, otherwise I'd have to repackage the rough copy on the final copy as a "rehearsal bonus track" or some hokey shit.
What I was basically trying to get across:

"They" is a wonderfully mellow, silly, and ironic batch of catchy little acoustic ditties that somehow never lose their appeal despite their 3-chord simplicity. The melodies are nothing groundbreaking, but there's something oddly unique about their presentation that elevates this lineup LEAGUES above their contemporaries at the time!
Or not. What the fuck do I know? Did KM even have neighbors of stylistic semblance? Doesn't it seem ludicrous to drop the word "contemporary" into a review without isolating the traits that made these so-called contemporaries RELEVANT?
"Just like contemporaries Big Youth and The Human League, King Missile recorded instrumental arrangements accompanied by vocal emissions!"

The lesson here is: learn to pick out the music-reviewer cliches and ignore them.

It's not much of a stretch to guess that this album is out of print currently, but I'll give you the benefit of the whogivesashit.

If you dig this, seriously check out Dogbowl's solo discography. I'll probably be posting "Tit! An Opera" or "Flan" (which has an accompanying novel I've never read) sometime in the near future, but I'll also probably not be posting it in the near future because I'm worthless.


So for the last week, I've been lurking on 4chan's /mu/ board and

(page views dip into negative integers)

(prospective followers hack huge wads onto their monitors and go outside)


So anyway, for the past week I've been lurking on 4chan's /mu/ (the music board) almost constantly as a sort of social experiment (despite having little to no way of gauging the social aspects of the so-called "experiment" and

Y'know what: let's start over, 'cause I'm not feeling all too intellectual today and have one simple observation to share.

If /mu/ is a relatively accurate core sample of the current base of music-enthusiasts on planet Earth, I have a nervous feeling everyone has "wised up" too much for anyone to be able to state their appreciation for decidedly more "left field" music without being deemed an ironic, posed-eclectic, hipster douchebag whose only interest in their respective branches is the heightened sense of status. Come on, now! I'm as cynical as the next guy, but this is AMERICA YOU AND ME AIN'T THIS AMERICA SOMETHING TO SEE BABY AIN'T THIS AMERICA HOME OF THE FREE AND THEN SOMETHING SOMETHING EFFEMINATE HOUSES

I sensed an easily debunked incomplete statement encroaching, so I handed the keyboard over to John "Jaguar" Mellencamp. Hope you didn't mind.

If you aren't familiar with Dawson, then where have you been? Above a rock? With close to 100% of the Earth's population? For the uninitiated, Dawson are a criminally unknown Scottish punk-esque band in the vein of their neighbors, the Dog Faced Hermans, Whirling Pig Dervish, De Kift, The Ex, Archbishop Kebab, and a quarter-oodle of other bands who are often pegged mysteriously as "anarcho punk". Dawson existed from [date] all the way to [later date] and released three incredibly good albums with such shit-awful distributing skills that you're more likely to stumble upon a used bin WITHOUT 3 copies of [disappointing topical album]!!

Oh yeah, did you hear that Michael Jackson's dead?

[insert overdone quasi-offensive joke "too soon" to be tasteful]

Dawson played noisy, scratchy, funk/dub/jazz/eclectica-laden punk rawk that was difficult to pigeonhole, especially since they progressed heavily from one album to the next.
1.) Barfmarket: You're Ontae Plums

2.) How To Follow So That Others Will Willingly Lead

3.) Terminal Island

To give credit where credit is due, Mr. Dave Lang of Lexicon Devil introduced me (impersonally) to these guys, Barfmarket was originally uploaded by Nothin' Sez Somethin' and How To Follow was originally uploaded by X-Ray Barbeque. Czech 'em out, as they're mostly superior to my watered-down imitation blog and self-deprecating self-deprecation of self etc. The rest came from my good 'ol pal, soulseek.

As an aside, Velvety Sheath Glistening Sword uploaded Terminal Island as well, if that's any indication of the content surrounding it (hint hint).

ALSO: check out this bullshit. For a bunch of fuckin' millionaires, Metallica sure is protective of their "art".

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Cows - Taint Plurbis Taint Unum

If you're one of the 5-10 internet-goers who haven't become completely desensitized to the concepts of 'theft via file sharing', this is an album with no honorable strings attached: the Cows' Taint Plurbis Taint Unum.

If you've already established a fan-status for Minneapolis' Cows' more readily available material, it's unfortunately probable you not only haven't heard this album, but likely weren't even aware of it's existence until recent years. Y'see, way back in '87, the Cows released this debut full-length on Treehouse Records, only to switch over to Amphetamine Reptile in '89. According to Amp Rep's Tom Hazelmeyer, Treehouse's main-man was a bit irked by this transition, and in return, refused to allow Haze to reissue the album. Skip ahead about 20 years, gazillions of old people have croaked, and Treehouse's owner is still distributing the album, but over ebay for ridiculously jacked up prices instead of his own label.

Doesn't that "get your goat" or some other cliche I know not the etymology of? THEN HEY - give it a steal:

Aurally, this is probably the Cows' most noisy and abrasive release, with a fantastically raw, scratchy quality that would later be outsourced for a more bass-heavy, full-bodied production (and even later, a moog-based cornerstone of rave-pop). As uninviting as it may sound at first, give it the benefit of the doubt - it never traverses the valley to Amorphousblobofrhythmicnoiseville or shakes hands with the mayor of Obnoxiousfeedbackdickery City.

I was kidding about the moog thing.

They use casios.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Contortions - Buy


That wasn't as funny as I hoped. Can I offer you a vile of clown sperm in retribution? That's like distilled hilarious.

In less pressing news, The Contortions were perhaps the most significant (albeit least representative) of the New York No Wave scene blooming in the late 70's-early 80's. By "least representative" I mean the glut of No Wave bands are atonal, wailing, racket, while the Contortions actually had a well-practiced, tight groove that happened to be just as noisy and confrontational as their peers. It's not that Teenage Jesus and DNA don't appeal to me (they do), but with all their gusto, it was rare that they turned their idiosyncrasies into anything memorable that your everyday Joe might stumble upon (in NYC on this fine day in 1980)..

Buy is 9 tracks of rigid drum patterns, scrappy jazzy guitar, funky basslines, and the skronkin' sax and high energy yelps of James Chance - all within a half-hour; perfect for someone breaking into the genre to stomach. The album is out of print (I think?), but if you’re excited by the idea of an unfairly large transaction with some douchewad on ebay, by all means!

For the rest of us:

Friday, June 5, 2009

KUKL - The Eye

Say, you like vaguely folkish avant-rock parading under the guise of anarcho, right? Of course you do. And who doesn't? Aside from me a few years ago who expected this to be a ripsnortin' punk RAWK album, but hey, that guy was a dick anyway.

Y'see, KUKL (or sometimes turned inexplicable acronym: K.U.K.L) is a rare breed of band that more often than not gets referred to as an "anarcho punk" band despite have little to no stylistic connection to punk rock. Instead, we get a highly unusual grab-bag of ethereal keyboard swashes, shambling "gothic" guitars, horns, whistles, flutes, the kitchen sink, and Björk wailing alongside some -

Oops. By the way, KUKL is singer Björk's second real band after Tappi Tíkarrass and before Sugarcubes and the solo stuff. I forgot to mention that earlier.

- guy named Einar Örn Benediktsson who's vocals resemble severe asthma. Together, they form a happy family and record two fantastic albums - the first of which, is right here for you to enjoy:
Lastly, don't pick this up expecting anything like the Sugarcubes' alterna-rock or Björk's dancey left-field pop - this is an entirely different beast that'll sit snuggly between your old "anarcho punk" albums by Chumbawamba and Dog Faced Hermans.

Lastlylastly: you can pick this up on amazon surprisingly cheap. Hint hint.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Sebadoh - The Freed Man

Here's a treat for all you purist assholes out there - Sebadoh's The Freed Man with the original tracklisting and none of those pesky bonus numbers interspersed shamelessly throughout!
This was actually a bit of a challenge to assemble, since many of the tracks only seemed to exist in the soulseek microcosm, but it was totally worthwhile.

If you're new to Sebadoh, or have only familiarized yourself with the post-Gaffney albums, The Freed Man is a gigantic heap of somewhat silly, somewhat sloppy, weed-cl0uded bedroom recordings with the audio clarity of a 4-track wrapped in cellophane. At this point, it was just Lou and Eric screwing around, but the ideas presented on this album are fantastically catchy and entertaining as anything they would go on to write on their "classic"III a few years later.

Except not. Because I like this album more than III.


hxxp:// freed man.rar


On an unrelated note, The Tragically Hip might be my least favorite band. Good god do they slurp on donkey pole.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


Observe the title of my blog.

Oops. Apparently the title of Alex Ross' collection is "The Rest Is Noise", not "The Rest Is JUST Noise" as I had believed prior to uncovering the bottomless vistas of possibility that search engines offer.

Anyway, gut-busting shenanigans aside, my name is Steve Hughes, and I created this blog (like I assume most people have) presumably out of overflowing egomania, but also because I've become pretty passionate about music in the last 5 years.

To prevent any future bullshittery, I will be upfront RIGHT IN THIS VERY BLOG: I'm only 20. I figure stating this now will help me resist all future temptations to miraculously age myself 5-10 years in order to attain credibility in arguments that might ensue or platitudes that might topple off my tongue like a shitty metaphor I don't feel like thinking up.

Last thing:
Here's a swell trick I figured out in the past year or so that I'd love to share with the 0% of individuals currently reading this blog:
Ex: artist album blogspot
5.) ????
6.) PROFIT!!!*

*By performing this simple string of actions, you'll most likely find some keen blog-owner has uploaded the album you're looking for with the intention of you (the lucky treasure hunter) downloading it to enjoy and ultimately, purchase a physical copy of to support the artist.

...unless of course, the album in question is rare as shit, and you realize giving some asshole on ebay a hundred bucks for it won't help the band feed themselves.

MY ADVICE: perform the 6 steps showcased above for any given Metallica album - even if you have no desire to listen to Metallica. Just download their entire discography and delete it. Trust me, the band is totally chill with you doing this.