Meat Puppets - s/t

You know what song F U C K I N G S U C K S ? "December" by Collective Soul.
However, it must be stated that such a song acts as a rather peculiar variable when unleashed upon the subject (ie my ears). As if introduction of the song induces a powerful, very particular emergence of internal chemicals, I find my larynx, tongue, lungs, and esophagus contort and spasm, and on the gust of my exhalation, an archaic and guttural maelstrom of primitively aligned consonants and vowels clump together and pulse through my gums and out my gaping mouth: "p... p... pantywaists...".
You remember Collective Soul, don'tcha? That agonizingly lame "post-grunge" band from the mid 90's? The one who's slogan was "grungey as a box of wet matches and a flaccid scrotum"?

In conclusion, Meat Puppets' first album.
I know I've toted this as my favorite Meat Puppets album in the past, but really now, how can I make such a claim when their catalog totes such visionary works such as II, Up On The Sun, and the great, yet non-visionary (even trashed) Monsters and Huevos?. Because I'm more unique than the most unique of us. dgvjhvbkdb.
I'm probably too scatterbrained to be writing this right now, but fuck you, I play by my own rules so I must offer up my sincerest apologies, my good sir or ma'am.

(ugh, even that strikethrough text gag was a lazy abortion)

Y'see, Meat Puppets The First is quite pretty much irrelevant to the rest of the band's works (if you exclude the preceding In A Car EP), and instead presents the band as a wildly idiosyncratic hardcore punk band with more sloppy twang than a pubfull of inebriated cowboys. Even this early in the game, Kirkwood was busting with clever riffage and compositional know-how, which fortunately was executed here as haphazardly as humanly tolerable in the midst of a 3-day LSD recording haze - rehearsal style; not to mention the Darby Crash with head trauma, making-fun-of-'tards, vocal style. In a way, it's similar to Flipper's Generic, but the with tight skinsmanship taking precedent over the anchor-like qualities the comparison's bass had beneath the drugged-up guitar slop. I'm honestly having a lot of trouble thinking up any albums that come close to the sound achieved here, so let's just settle on it's uniqueness as a piece that could potentially sit between your earlier Half Japanese, Thrown Ups, and Happy Flowers records (but not necessarily sound like any of those bands).

http://www.mediafire.com/?gq32mgzmyew

All in all, this is one of those rare albums that has to be heard without the band's more "accomplished" works in tow; the 21 sparse minutes of unhinged riff-slop and lunatic wailing teetering ever so gracefully atop the snappy drumming is goddamn ridiculous and makes for a massively enjoyable repeat listen. If you lose focus, just give it another shot - it'll sink in soon.

In conclusion, elephants are the heaviest land mammal.

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