Monthly Archives: March 2010

krügers medbragte: den sindsyge broders bøn / ondo: mahavishnu / ekpyrosis: mensch aus gold (paradigms)

been a while since i last visited the ever-reliable black metalish eccentrics at paradigms recordings (the jarboe seeress 7”, wraiths plaguebearer and snowdrift albums since you ask). so popped in again (electronically) and stumbled away with a bunch of beautiful randoms in my sweaty fists. firstly the new unpronounceable kid in town – krügers medbragte [...]

quay brothers: street of crocodiles (music by bleeding heart narrative)

  this would have been bloody wonderful to see. street of crocodiles is probably the best thing on their collected short film bfi box set. and one of my favourite bits of animation. with a nice bit of orchestral hum from bleeding heart narrative too. beautiful rusted ballet it is…

deathpodal: exu__wow (electropapknit)

   okay this is an interesting step back in time. i remember ages ago when there was a slew of glasgow bands indulging all their favourite angular geetar, skewed rhythm and feral melody fantasies. i’m bloody well loving this. not nostalgically, though this stuff was my early nineties bread and butter and i do still [...]

a love letter to glasgow…

i wrote this in a suitably drunken haze, as some kindof love-letter hate-mail to this ugly city of mine. someone used it (and a few other bits) as an introduction to a russ meyers / john waters / herschel gordon -esque west of scotland romp. i’m quite proud of it’s spiteful stupidity. though if anybody wants to make a [...]

garth marenghi’s darkplace

  why did no-one tell me about this? man it makes me all nostalgic for vipco and vhs and fulci…

shade the changing man (in a too many words ramble)

first thought: sweet billy christ, what is that? that being the brendan mccarthy cover dry-humping my eyeballs, leering at me like sexually depraved neon vomit. that being a fella strapped to an electric chair, whilst behind him the lurid contents of timothy leary’s head melts in spectacular fashion down the page. that, right there, was [...]

environmental aesthetics (blastoids / weekends / true womanhood)

   okay gotta buncha stuff from neato baltimore label environmental aethetics afuckingageago and have spurned the buggers ever since. well no more. the time has come for me to squeeze some words out of my brain sphincter… and if that particular image ain’t put you off, first up is blastoids. big spectacular splatters of pop, glitchy neon [...]

blessure grave: judged by 12, carried by 6 (release the bats / alien8)

gah, goth. i mean what’s the blimmin point in subcultures? am i just jealous that i could never find one where the clothes worked for me? i mean i like black, the mainstay of my coves cupboard, but struggled even to sit through five minutes of doctor jeep. and another thing get yr hands off [...]

peninsula fernandes (or brazilian dream mulch)

   been mindmonging with this fellas aural nonsense all day. trudging happy-drunk through a lovely swamp of psychedelic mush, spelunking through dreamy mulch and electronic gloop and portugese chitterchatter and chunter and babble, schlepping along a path of pitchshifted buggerations and cartoon toy sproings and fleeps. sometimes he does that brainbombs-esque singyspeaky swedish accented thing. [...]

natural snow buildings: the centauri agent (vulpiano records)

man even ignoring the rest of this free, yes free, double disc beast the first forty one minute track sounds like some slo-mo battle-dance between god and a battalion of mdma’d aliens. it’s huge. HUGE. yes so huge i’ve even capitalised. a wee taster, blurb and links below: vulpiano records isn’t an ordinary label. vulpiano [...]

thee silver mt. zion memorial orchestra: rm hubbert: the art school: glasgow

oh the joy the bruised joy, the grinning gleeful perversity of a band who’ll do a one song twenty three minute encore introduced as ‘probably the least liked track of our career’. yup, the uber-dirge, the monolithic lament, the fucked blues doom klang of 13 blues for thirteen moons. probably the angriest song lyrically maybe anyway they’ve written: [...]

oh graveyard, you can’t hold me always…

this morning i said fuck you to work, i’ve got a better suggestion, oh mind and body o’ mine old pal. so i got a sleep then a coffee. i got the paper then a stroll. i got a belly full of beer and sushi. i got a head full of ideas that are driving me [...]

why?: stereo: glasgow

of all the nouns why? is my favourite at making pop music. saw where? in stereo last week and he was rubbish. when? was okay but he’s a conjunction… and don’t get me started on how? ho. and. ho. essentially what you got last night was full on technicolour big band glowering pop. like what the flaming [...]

nudge squidfish: 20,000 leagues under nashville (columbus discount)

yay! more reissued calcium, vitamin and mineral goodness from the ohio alumni, on columbus discount. year and a bit ago they exhumed tommy jay’s tall tales of trauma. this time it’s al martins corpse they’re digging up. 20,000 leagues under nashville, this sprawlingly concise bugger, came out fifteen years ago, the first ever release on [...]

oxbow: coalking (moving pictures by craig murray)

stumbled onto this rather squalid (not meant pejoratively) unnofficial video for the oxbow tour 12″ that hydrahead put out. i dig the use of third generation video. something i’ve done myself with photos. most recently here. i like the aesthetics and philosophy behind it, the xerography, the lo-fidelity, the mirror upon mirror voyeurism… be warned, this does feature [...]

nothing people: soft crash lp (s.s. records)

the telling moment for me on the last nothing people record was the cover of syd barrett’s late night. he said, inside me i feel alone and unreal. and this, this whole enterprise, drenched in the pessimism, gloom and amphetamine-cranked paranoia of kurt vonnegut and philip k. dick, this is what informs nothing people’s sci-fi [...]

the poetry of spam: a brief defense

sometimes sometimes there’s a weird poetry to spam. think of it as some nonsensical digital message in a bottle, full of unexistant ache and loneliness. the mirrored longing in a missive destined to be spurned, deleted without thought, even if it gets past the firewall pheromone receptors…   aloha, my gentleman. let’s just say. i got the chance to say. what i want to [...]

lydverket mix (or the brief soundtrack to booze, comics, animal vomit and documentaries about detroit)

spent the whole goddam weekend with tequila, cat vomit (poor sick kitty…) and a pile of comics (will eisner, peter milligan, jeff smith). and despite the foot-thick pile of vinyl i’ve accumulated, this (and it’s ilk) is what i keep coming back to. where the fuck is my attention span just now? short mix from spykidelic, fella o’ [...]

the lost track of danzig

an early demo of mother recorded by glenn danzig and co… probably still my favourite thing on the whole internet. funny. really. after all these years watching it. yup.

we’re offering a treatment for everything

if, like me, you’ve been feeling a general illwellness, a worrying cancerlike sense of malaise recently, hopefully this humo(u)rous animation from the wonderful david firth at fat-pie should ease your ravaged germ-ridden fleshsack. more stuff here

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