Monthly Archives: January 2010

the ex + brass unbound / zun zun eguia / tattie toes: cca: glasgow

ah the sheer bloody giddy glee, the joyous joy of this tonight. three guitars. one drummer. one sampler. two voices. two saxomaphones. one trumpet. one trombone. one cowbell. and christ knows what else. kinda hard to describe how far removed from whatever anarcho-somethingorother seventies crass-esque cliches you might have in yr head, sounds you might have [...]

last days of radio (nice song, where d’ya get it?)

these songs? immitation, not necessarily the sincerest form of flattery. perhapsperhapsperhaps. electronick headfuckery versus metal headfuckery. bernard shakey versus the fearless freaks. hair versus beards. are we not men? versus why does my heart feel so bad? boys versus girls. can you tell what it is yet… 

real estate: s/t (woodsist (but not the captains rest))

    incongruous (in-kong-groo-uhs) – adjective 1. out of keeping or place; inappropriate; unbecoming: an incongruous effect; incongruous behavior. 2. not harmonious in character; inconsonant; lacking harmony of parts: an incongruous mixture of architectural styles. 3. inconsistent: actions that were incongruous with their professed principles. cold. wet. dark. no, not the descriptive of the cows mental [...]

kemper norton: to iron john

one of the few things i watched on the old goggle box (iplayer, not live, license people) over christmas then wished i hadn’t was the beige turd remake of day of the triffids. remember the old tv series that scared the shite out of me as a youngling? well this bugger served only to put [...]

starving weirdos with tom carter + shawn david mcmillen: live at the accident! (blackest rainbow)

been a bit of a slooow week musically. not been playing much new apart from this jammy bugger. not really much else has tweaked my cat-killing nipple of curiosity, flicked my searching sac of inquisitiveness. took lots of pictures though…. you moaning fux. anyways. this’ll be short and sweet. like strega. or hervé villechaize. or [...]

berlin: in sixteen pieces

this is not a photoblog…

if you look closely enough you can see the soul leave the body

oneohtrix point never: rifts (no fun productions)

been sitting on this since before santa squeezed his fat ass down the worlds collective chimneys. not because i don’t dig it (i do, greatly) but because well i couldn’t think what to say. or rather what little words came a-tumbling out just didn’t fit. on reading the handfulla end of year lists i stumbled [...]

macronympha: amplified humans (industrial recollections)

oof. probably macronympha’s finest (finest…) moment. part of industrial recollections reissue of roemer and stella’s (and oliveira) tankrumbling genius. full on low-frequency noise shit. some kindof industrial / junkyard / scrapheap collage. not as harsh harsh as you might think at first. today i lack words. so this shit is random and (un)pictorial. feel free to [...]

swans are not dead (and michael gira is not insane)

improbable news comes true true true! no, not the kraft takeover of cadbury, $22 billion of debt yet still finds $10 billion down the back of the sofa to pay off hedge fund chancers (you know it’s wrong when even the telegraph are hinting at protectionist measures…) anyway. yes, michael gira revives the name, the [...]

harappian night recordings: non euclidean elucidation of shamanic ecstasies (ikuisuus)

christ, somehow i’m still catching up with last years divined finds, trepidatious purchases, enthused borrows and sweaty-illicit mail packages. this came out lord knows when (october maybe) and i’ve only just got round recently to tuning out and dropping off. dunno why it’s taken so long given my love for the part wild horses / [...]

no balls: come clean (release the bats)

ah the sweet oblivion of mistress monotony, lifting her swishing curtains of velveteen skirt and welcoming us into her mighty warm moistened folds. no balls indeed. this dear readers, this fellow travelers, this oh brothers and sisters of tinnitus can i get an amen, is remorseless, ruthless, brutal, unyielding, relentless. adjectivise mother fuckers, adjectivise. yup. [...]

weekend randoms – botanical bullets: the maha menace / manual zombie: autumn / roland s. howard is dead…

   samo as an end to playing art well what better way to kick off sundays randoms than with a basquiat quote. i like basquiat’s paintings, just not the mythos surrounding him, which i guess is why i like the incongruity of the quote. so i guess these fuckers ain’t playing coz i’d struggle to [...]

weekend randoms – 17 pygmies: the outlaw j.d. ray / we are bright & broken / woozy viper

   have you ever wondered what makes a man play the washboard? i know i have. and if you are similarly inclined to ponder such things, you will want to check out the outlaw jd ray by 17 pygmies. or jackson del ray’s continued attempts to drag the concept album back into unfashion. i s’pose [...]

werneck-wretchmond: oneiric hardware (19F3)

introduction: congratulations on your purchase of the werneck-wretchmond: oneiric hardware audio compact disc. the disc allows the use of audition to translate machine noise using a simple interface. this manual describes how to install and use the disc. before beginning the installation remove shoes and jewelry, find a comfortable seating position and ensure all electrical [...]

bill orcutt: a new way to pay old debts (palilalia)

hands up everyone who’s read les champs magnétiques. yes, you at the back. see, this is what i’m thinking about untuning into, through and out of this. what’s lubing up my brain sac and fingering my neurons is the correlations squiggling between this record and automatism. you know, the expressive technique used by the surrealists. [...]

wretched worst: let the girls scream (mountaain)

maybe it’s raining; everything’s slick and viscous. maybe it’s just tears spooling out of twitchy ducts. today i’m wednesday and clozapine gauzed. being held together by steroids and nicotine. can i differentiate between a fizzing fist of honey bees or a gluey flush of storm clouds? this strategy of amelioration, purple and apoplectic, ain’t working. [...]

the shadow ring: life review 1993-2003 / graham lambkin: softly softly copy copy (kye)

i’ve always been in the thrall of words. since those first giddy primary school daze, rerereading roald dahl’s deliciously cruel fantastic mr fox. or the abridged version of the count of monte cristo in faux leather with neato captioned illustrations. that headfucking ability to make non-existent worlds exist through nothing more than ink paper and [...]

todd: big ripper (riot season)

it’s marie curie idly wondering where that lump came from. it’s blue cheer trapped inside the bloated bile-filled belly of shit and shine, trying to chew their way out. it’s gene hackman in the poseiden adventure screaming why god why. it’s the precise moment of solitary ejaculation when the door opens unexpectedly. it’s phil spector, [...]

battleship: the movie…

yeah really. whilst reading about the dune remake i stumbled across this little perfumed hankie of mindblowing movie nonsense: berg, of hancock fame, was previously set to direct, but has decided to work on the forthcoming adaptation of board game battleship instead. and somehow it’s true.  the mind not only boggles but also removes it’s rancid [...]

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