Thursday, November 30, 2017
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
THE PROFIT MARGIN
The less said about
remasters and anniversary re-issues the better.
Essentially, the record companies are pissed that the future is digital
music and illegal downloading. They
reaped in shitloads of money after the initial vinyl-to-CD conversion, and now
they’ve been left sucking hind teat (which still involves more money than you
or I will ever see). Boo hoo.
Most of the obscure b-sides and out-of-print
catalogs by all of our favorite oddball bands have been repackaged in fancy CD
box sets and whatnot (The Banshees, The Cure, Jesus & Mary Chain, Screaming
Blue Messiahs), and I appreciate that.
Now, though, we’re down to the scrag ends, the useless shit like umpteen
anniversary re-issues of SGT PEPPER and the endless recycling of Pink Floyd’s
catalog. Gah.
So, let me take this opportunity to fully endorse
the 40th anniversary edition reissue of ROCKET TO RUSSIA. Great songs, but that radio-friendly production
(and what a joke that idea is, trying to make the Ramones palatable to top 40
listeners) was just waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too tame.
The remaster on this edition is (like the one 15 years ago) neither here
nor there, but the bonus tunes of the original tracking mix and the demos kick
ass and give a much better idea of what the album should have been if the
Ramones hadn’t been so damn willing to compromise their vision for a shot at “stardom”.Monday, November 27, 2017
Sunday, November 26, 2017
Saturday, November 25, 2017
Friday, November 24, 2017
THE CRUCIFUCKS, 30 YEARS TOO LATE
Or, more precisely, their first 2 albums (passing on LD EYE here). There’s plenty of stuff on the internet
about Doc (singer/lyricist) and his troubles, so I won’t go into any of that
here. And I’ll refer to him as Doc,
since it fits in the context of the albums.
I wrote him a few months before the 2nd one
came out (they had a contact address on the 1st one, and this is
what goofy-ass small town teenage punks do when they find these addresses) came
out and he wrote back to me, seemed upbeat and fully engaged, didn’t say
anything too profound or earth-shattering, but he seemed genuinely pleased to
hear from a fan and it was very cool getting a response.
Bought the first album because the artwork was so
jarring when set against the band name.
Plus the Alternative Tentacles logo.
Always a mark of quality. What
the first album sounds like, to me, is a sort of U.S. version of NEVER MIND
THE BOLLOCKS,
albeit a more minimal and roughly produced one.
Not much thrashing, mostly just a lot of mid-tempo anger focused around
guitar, bass & drums. And doc’s
insanely abrasive voice, which works in this context. There’s some slight sonic experimenting
here and there, which is reminiscent of early PiL. Doc’s lyrics, though, make J Rotten sound
like Mother Goose on tranquilizers. Insanely
caustic hatred and rage.
ANTI-AUTHORITARIAN is a good umbrella description and, more
specifically, anti- government (this was the Reagan era) and anti-(to the nth
power) cops. The dude does not hold
back, and the album is stronger for it.
And how much do things stay the same the more they change? This defining verse could just as easily be
about the ignorant, frightened, rabid mongoose xenophobia-posing-as-patriotism
that Fuckwad Trump has ushered in:
“Well fascists, I’ve got news for you
I was fucking born here, too!”
I was fucking born here, too!”
Pure goddamn truth.
Where the first album is a brick in the face, WISCONSIN is white-hot shrapnel, shredding everything in its
way. The guitar bash and crash is
stretched out and opened up, letting in strummy acoustic folk, cock rock guitar
solos, anthems, new-wave-from-hell keyboards and atonal post punk. Pure musical psychosis. And the hidden track at the end of
everything, I swear, is a completely sincere and heartfelt love song with a
beautiful piano intro.
The first album is visceral, the second one terrifying. You need them both. now in one convenient
package!
A lengthy interview here. There are others to be found:
And a P.S. On
the day I bought my copy of the Crucifucks self-titled debut, I also bought a copy of
10,000 Maniacs THE WISHING CHAIR. Because that's how much fucking ass I kick.
Thursday, November 23, 2017
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
SOME ASGER JORN TO START THE MORN
I think. Sometimes it's hard to tell if it's a Jorn or someone making their own Jorn's. It's all very meta.......
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
Monday, November 20, 2017
I don't recall getting any royalty checks for this one.......
Although their seems to be multiple copies available on Amazon through different sellers........
Sunday, November 19, 2017
DEAR GOD, THE HUMOR.......
The funniest and best album review ever? Quite possibly. Easily the best assessment of Morrissey I've ever read.....
Morrissey “Low In High
School”
Mr Agreeable , November
14th, 2017 11:51
In which Mr Agreeable considers the musical, lyrical, political and
despicable content of Moz’s new album.
Waking up to my usual breakfast of parboiled kippers, grapefruit
juice, quinoa cakes and a rusty petrol can of the stored piss of an alcoholic
tramp who died in 1972, I take up my headphones to listen to an advance copy of
the latest Morrissey album, Low In High School, which has been hailed as
a “landmark record”. Said Morrissey last year of the music industry in which he
works, “It is severely controlled and monitored to make sure that any singer
with a political message cannot get through.” To counter this, he has peppered
his latest offering (produced by Joe Chiccarelli who previously worked with The
White Stripes) with certain politically charged remarks of his own,
particularly concerning the hard-done-by state of Israel, coupled with remarks
about how very lonely he is.
F*** me with a f***ing gladioli stalk, “landmark record”?
Skidmark record, more f***ing like! In a f***ing career with pillar after
forgotten f***ing pillar of desiccated, fey, morose f***ing moosewank, this one
takes the f***ing prize wank biscuit! Actually, the f***ing music industry is
controlled and monitored by managers, executives and producers to make sure
that any conceited, grossly overrated singer who thinks he's got something
f***ing important and political to say doesn't make a complete tit of himself
by going ahead and f***ing saying it! They’re f***ing looking out for you, but
once again you've managed to slip through the bellend net, talking bollocks,
arse and shite in equal f***ing measure!
To say this is a f***ing dog's arse of an album is a f***ing
insult to dogs’ arses! Put it this way, if you were to take a small needle and
rotate it for 40 odd minutes at 33 1/3 rpm around the interior of a dog’s arse,
the pained howls that would result would be infinitely preferable to the the
f***ing bleating bill of fare on offer here, the unedited f***ing musings of a
superannuated, superfatted, greying teenager who went up to his bedroom to sulk
in f***ing 1978 and has mentally never f***ing come back downstairs!
Where do we begin? I'd like to f***ing begin three seconds
before the f***ing end, the sooner I could haul the thing off the machine and
clay pigeon shoot the f*** out of the thing! But we have to begin at the
f***ing beginning, I suppose. ‘My Love I’d Do Anything For You.’ “Teach your
kids to despise and recognise the propaganda - filtered down by the mainstream
media… hey, hey, hey…” warbles the gusset-faced twat!
‘I Wish You Lonely’. A recurring theme on the album – turns out
that unaccountably, no f***er can be persuaded to spend any much time in
Morrissey's company. Ooh, he says, walk a mile in my f***ing moccasins of
misery and you’ll know what it’s all about. Did it f***ing occur to you to
title the track ‘Could It Be Because I’m A C***’? Because you’d be f***ing onto
something there! Mind you, how he can complain about being f***ing lonely on
this album when he's surrounded by about 250 session musicians parping and
strumming away like they're fantasising that they're playing on f***ing
Sergeant Pepper, I don't f***ing know!
‘Jacky's Only Happy When She's Up On The Stage’. Well, as is the
case with every f***ing Morrissey song, there's no f***ing need to read beyond
the title, sparing you minutes of exposure to his lachrymose f***ing foghorn
vocals! Here’s a song about Jacky. Who’s only happy when she’s up on the stage.
Meanwhile, the rest of us are only f***ing miserable when Morrissey’s up on the
f***ing stage!
‘Home Is A Question Mark’. Pity poor f***ing Morrissey, he’s
made so much f***ing money swindling adolescents by making them believe there’s
something rare and f***ing precious about their f***ing acne-stricken emotions,
he’s got homes all over the f***ing shop and can’t decide which one is the real
one. F*** off to F***chester, you shirtbursting waste of f***ing hair gel!
‘Spent The Day In Bed’. Well, you did us all a temporary f***ing
favour there, didn’t you? “I recommend that you stop watching the news / Because
the news contrives to frighten you / To make you feel small and alone / To make
you feel that your mind isn't your own.” Jesus, the c***’s got about as much
sense of f***ing lyrical rhythm and meter as a f***ing goat with a coal scuttle
tied to its f***ing hind leg, hasn’t he? Kids. I highly f***ing recommend that
you watch the f***ing news. Because the news contrives to tell you what the
f*** is going on and if you don’t know what the f*** is going on, you’ll turn
into a festering, know-nothing f***wit like f***ing Morrissey!
‘I Bury The Living’. In which Steven Patrick Morrissey, aged
seven and three quarters, explains, using a box of toy soldiers, why war is
horrible and there wouldn't be any if people simply didn’t fight them. Double
f*** off with extra fudge, you vacuous f***ing arsecock!
‘In Your Lap’. In which, once again, Morrissey vacillates
between his vacuous f***ing fantasies about dictators burning and canvassing
for f***ing volunteers to splay themselves as he buries his faceful of f***ing
eyebrows and wrinkles in their f***ing crotch. It’s f***ing tumbleweed time!
‘The Girl From Tel-Aviv Who Wouldn’t Kneel’. Lots of f***ing
zingers in this tiramisu of f***ing toss. “The American way… is to show lots of
teeth and talk loudly.” Ooh, yes, Morrissey, for the love of Ada, them Yankees,
with their loud shirts and swing music and chewing gum and one of them put my
Auntie Betty in the family way during the war… Stop f***ing deriving your
f***ing ideas about foreigners from a f***ing 1950s cartoon strip, you addled
old c***!
‘All The Young People Must Fall In Love’ is barely any better.
“Presidents come, Presidents go and nobody remembers their name two minutes
after they go.” Yeah, that's f***ing right, Mozzer. Who but a professor in
American Constitutional Studies these days remembers the name Barack Obama? Or
Ronald Reagan? Or George Bush? Remind me never to f***ing double up with you on
Pointless, you f***ing thicko!
‘When You Open Your Legs’. Jesus f***ing HP Lovecraft –
Morrissey and sex, doesn't even bear f***ing thinking about, let alone
listening to. A f***ing mental image of your granddad wanking would be f***ing
preferable!
‘Who Will Protect Us From The Police?’ starts with a f***ing cop
car siren. Subtle touch there – unless it’s the actual police, turned up to
arrest the f***er for recording an album without due care and attention!
‘Israel’. See, you know how all you leftie liberal types
complain there’s something illegal, immoral and f***ing unjust about the
Israeli treatment of the Palestinians? Or “bitch and whine”, as the lyric here
has it? Well, not Morrissey, because he’s so special and fascinating he holds
entirely the opposite f***ing point of view! “And they who rain abuse upon you
– they are jealous of you as well.” Yep. That’s the opposition to Likud,
Netanyahu kissing Trump’s arse, the f***ing settlements programme, the f***ing
bulldozing of protesters, all sussed for what it really is – plain old
green-eyed jealousy. The same as how those who f***ing criticise Theresa May
and the Tories are doing it because they're f***ing jealous of England! Go f***
yourself from all directions, you swollen, dried up f***ing troll!
Of course, you won't get to hear any of this, because, muzzled
as he is by the mainstream, Morrissey has only been able to give vent to his
fatuous f***ing feelings on a major f***ing record label and in every f***ing
music magazine on the f***ing stand. Repressed! Repressed!
Listen, you f***ing nagging lump of pure, toxic f***, the reason
so few f***ing people will hear your message isn’t because you're the voice of
f***ing truth in the f***ing wilderness – it’s because you've decided to
f***ing swallow Piers Morgan and Katie Hopkins whole, shit out the results and
pat and mould them into your stinking public persona for the f***ing 21st
century! No one will hear your message because the world needs another
Morrissey album like it needs a boil on the f***ing penis tip! Now f***
absolutely and forever off, you attention-seeking, self-parodying, pitifully
contrarian, withered old wanksock who means the arse end of f*** all to anyone
under f***ing 40 and retire to a giant f***ing castle built of unsold copies of
this f***ing album.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
faith in nothing
thinking it’s safe
to breathe again but
the sunlight hurts
your eyes
the surface is
frozen
god on the lake
bottom
next to the
firstborn child and weare tired of digging
fifty years getting
nowhere is just
one way to describe
this irrelevant civil servant’s life
too much work trying
to
think up ay others
let the sad little
bastard die
so we can pick up
our shovels againand he is thinking this sounds
like a plan
he is hoping the
poem will grow into
a treebut no
all it can ever be
is the shadow of a
tree falling across
the windsweptsnow, and what about all of
that wasted time between the
hangover and the beginning
of the next buzz?
what about your
father’s reasons
for leaving your
mother?
for driving off the
bridge?
suspended against
the bright blue
sky for one small
infinite momentthen he falls like the weight of
god and smashes everything
NOT A REVIEW
I was the right age for
American hardcore, but it really never appealed to me in a huge way. Sure I have my early Black Flag stuff, I owned “Group
Sex” by the Circle Jerks for a while, I still have my Crucifucks comp, the Dead Kennedys are awesome (but they’re
also so much more than “hardcore”) but, for the most part, I like my guitar tunes
to have a little more rhythm.
As an old man, this is even
more true. I still listen to my old
Husker Du albums, but let’s face it – anything before “Zen Arcade” isn’t really
essential. People will tell you how they
were so much better than the average hardcore band, but is that really saying
much? They never attained greatness
until they discovered melody.
So, I’ll probably have to pass
on the new retrospective of ultra-early recordings “Savage Young Du”. Would I ever listen to it? Once, maybe.
Does the included book sound cool?
Hell, yeah, so maybe I’ll buy it for that if I ever find a cheap
copy. I already own the Rykodisc reissue
of “Everything Falls Apart” w/ bonus tracks, so I don’t need that material, and
an even a better sounding version of “Land Speed Record” is still “Land Speed
Record”.
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I have no idea why the SST
stuff isn’t being remastered and reissued.
Ginn and Mould are both proven assholes, so who’s to say where the fault
lies here? I know that Ginn declined to
let the SST stuff be used in a box set, so it looks like the fault might lie on
his doorstep but, shit, sue the fucker and get the master tapes back, you
know? Worked for Sonic Youth, Dinosaur
Jr and the Meat Puppets……
And about Ginn – the man is
living proof that smoking pot makes you stupid. To go from Black
Flag/Minutemen/Husker Du to all that free jazz and 3rd rate Sabbath
sludge and Greg Ginn side project crap in such a short time – just, wow.
They were still releasing some good shit up to about ’90 or so (Leaving
Trains, Dinosaur Jr, Buffalo Tom, Screaming Trees), but the majority of it was
the sound of half-baked slackers jerking off.
:format(jpeg):mode_rgb():quality(90)/discogs-images/R-11057341-1509489091-9341.jpeg.jpg)
But I digress.
For the youngsters, I’d
recommend box set, just cuz it’s Husker Du.
For seniors such as myself, we’ll stick to the Starlight Vocal Band.
Friday, November 17, 2017
Thursday, November 16, 2017
NOTHING THAT CONCERNS YOU
The rise of the internet has, of course, allowed geeks
of every stripe to pursue their inner geekdom.
And, let’s face it – everyone’s a geek.
In my own pursuit of post-punk geekiness, I’ve noticed these past many
years that almost any article written about The Sound will include a
declaration of surprise and disgust by the author that this band was pretty
obscure, even by post-punk standards.
“Why weren’t they as big as U2?!” sad little people pound out on their
keyboards. “Or the Cure?! Or Joy Division?! Or goddamn Echo and the goddamn Bunnymen?!”
So I will now answer that question. You ready?
You sitting down? Have you taken
your heart meds?......
They were fairly pedestrian.
Look, they had good songs, and they made good albums,
but they had a schizo manic-depressive, suicidal lead
singer/guitarist/lyricist, for christ’s sake, and yet about 75% of their music
was ridiculously……. polite. Sure, they had songs with grit and bite and
tension, but those songs were not the majority of their oeuvre.
Let us look……
JEOPARDY – good
songs hampered by small budget production.
A thin, tinny sound. Lots of
energy, not much nuance.
FROM THE LION’S MOUTH – a great
leap forward in sound and, again, very good songs, but this is where the lack
of musical tension starts to become apparent.
Some of the songs have it, while others seem overly concerned with
giving each instrument its space and creating no real musical friction.
ALL FALL DOWN – deliberately
created as the “difficult” album because the record company wanted hit singles. Now, these songs might be considered difficult
if you’re Taylor Swift or Mantovani, but if you’re a UK post-punk band from the
mid 80s, they’re fairly pedestrian.
Again, they’re good tunes, but if this is the heaviest stuff you’ve got
then no one has any right to complain about not being as big as Joy Division.
SHOCK OF DAYLIGHT/HEADS AND HEARTS – some weaker
stuff on these two releases, and also a return of the poppier sound (which they
never really moved that far away from to begin with). Not a crime by any means as, again, some of
these songs are quite awesome, but what was the point of making the difficult
album again?
THUNDER UP – a pretty
impressive last release. The strong
writing continues, as does (unfortunately) the production and arranging that
levels everything out.
Their myriad live releases were all very energetic,
and they cut loose more on stage than they did in the studio, but even these releases
seem a little ordinary and MOR when
compared to their contemporaries.
I liked these guys enough to collect all their
releases and listen to them often enough to form an opinion, but I’m just sayin’,
there’s a reason they’re as culty a cult band as they are. They had some pretty stiff competition
between ’79 and ’87. They could run with
the pack, but they were never gonna be alpha dog.
Wednesday, November 15, 2017
Monday, November 13, 2017
LOVING VAN GOGH
Two word review -
EXCELLENT MOVIE.
Make sure to give me credit if you quote me on that.
The 2018 literary review date book: Scars Publications
Got me some work in here. Buy it, use it,
stop sitting home whining about
how you can't get any dates......
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/197840963X
Friday, November 10, 2017
BECAUSE LULU LOVES YOU AND WILL RESPECT YOU IN THE MORNING
Get FREE mail or 50% OFF ground shipping
Use code SHIPIT2017 | Expires November 13
AND SO ON AND SO ON.............
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