I'm afraid this blog's got an expiration date - approximately 4 months away, too. Y'see, although you don't care, I'm going off grid. New York's cold, my job is monotonous, I've worked myself into an artless rut, and I'm chock-full of pent-up crust punk idealism. How does one break this strain of wide-eyed hopefulness? Likely by going into the muck of the U.S. with a backpack, a bike, and a friend or two. No date set for it's conclusion, either, so if I ever choose to revive this here blog, it might be 6 months to a year-plus away.Anyhookers, I'm in the middle of a free jazz/70's prog odyssey right now, but since the former is still digesting and the latter's not delivering the goods as I'd hoped (Gentle Giant? Bleah), I figured it was time to whip out an old favorite of mine - The Pop Group's stupidly scare singles collection, We Are All Prostitutes; a bag of hits I started rotating back in high school and never looked back.
Now if you're unfamiliar with the music of said Pop Group, it's a bizarre, somewhat even composure of spacey dub reggae, funk, skeletal jazz, and noise, all weaved into a sweater of post-punk sensibilities and hard-as-tacks political staunchness - and a phenomenally ugly sweater at that. In fact, if I were pressed to describe The Pop Group's sound in a single word, it'd probably be "ugly". This compilation is essentially a split between the creeping, disjointed minimalism of their legendary debut, Y, and the undeniably danceable funk-punk of the follow-up and neglected classic, For How Much Longer Do We Tolerate Mass Murder?, but the quality is consistent as either release.
Another thing worth noting (but uninteresting to read, much like this entry as a whole) is the production, which is raw, scratchy and full - totally unlike the spaciness of the rest of their catalog. Makes Gang Of Four sound like total pansies.
Oh, and once again, my stupid laptop is still broken because everything sucks and/or should die.
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