Dopo l’omaggio a Dead beas on a cake di David Sylvian in un recente post, eccomi di nuovo a decantare le virtú di un altro splendido album del 1999. Si tratta di Antipop dei grandissimi Primus, ad oggi la loro ultima opera compiuta. Nonostante le voci che circolano freneticamente in rete, Les Claypool e compagni non sembrano avere intenzione di omaggiarci di un nuovo episodio della Leggenda Primus, sicuramente una delle band piú geniali non solo degli anni ‘90 ma dell’intera storia del rock.

Il loro Antipop me lo sono sparato in auto proprio questa sera ed ha suonato davvero a meraviglia. Piú ragionato dei precedenti, dischi fatti con lo stomaco e col pancreas come il vecchio “Cheese” o l’allucinante “Pork Soda”, Antipop é un vero e proprio gioello progressivo. Prendete ad esempio Natural Joe e Lacquer Head, deliri sulle folli corde del Carl Thompson bass.

Antipop é un’opera fatta di testa, a mio parere il lavoro piú riuscito di Claypool e co. Riconoscibilissime al suo interno alcune citazioni pinkfloydiane… Scaricatelo a questo link: http://is.gd/54SS4

Il vecchio LesNasone se n’é uscito recentemento con un nuovo lavoro solista, Of Fungi And Foe. Per scaricarlo inserite questo link e buona fortuna: http://is.gd/54SVl

PRIMUS – Antipop
Studio Album, released in 1999

Songs / Tracks Listing

1. Intro (0:17)
2. Electric Uncle Sam (2:56)
3. Natural Joe (4:12)
4. Lacquer Head (3:49)
5. The Antipop (5:33)
6. Eclectic Electric (8:34)
7. Greet the Sacred Cow (5:10)
8. Mama Didn’t Raise No Fool (5:04)
9. Dirty Drowning Man (4:48)
10. Ballad of Bodacious (3:28)
11. Power Mad (3:42)
12. The Final Voyage of the Liquid Sky (5:39)
13. Coattails of a Dead Man (9:57)

Line-up / Musicians

Les Claypool / bass, vocals
James Hetfield / guitar
Larry LaLonde / guitar
Brian “Brain” Mantia / drums
Jim Martin / guitar
Tom Morello / guitar
Martina Topley-Bird / bass

FONTE:  http://colonyofslippermen.wordpress.com/

Dopo l’omaggio a Dead beas on a cake di David Sylvian in un recente post, eccomi di nuovo a decantare le virtú di un altro splendido album del 1999. Si tratta di Antipop dei grandissimi Primus, ad oggi la loro ultima opera compiuta. Nonostante le voci che circolano freneticamente in rete, Les Claypool e compagni non sembrano avere intenzione di omaggiarci di un nuovo episodio della Leggenda Primus, sicuramente una delle band piú geniali non solo degli anni ‘90 ma dell’intera storia del rock.

Il loro Antipop me lo sono sparato in auto proprio questa sera ed ha suonato davvero a meraviglia. Piú ragionato dei precedenti, dischi fatti con lo stomaco e col pancreas come il vecchio “Cheese” o l’allucinante “Pork Soda”, Antipop é un vero e proprio gioello progressivo.  Prendete ad esempio Natural Joe  e Lacquer Head, deliri sulle folli corde del Carl Thompson bass.

Antipop é un’opera fatta di testa, a mio parere il lavoro piú riuscito di Claypool e co. Riconoscibilissime al suo interno alcune citazioni pinkfloydiane… Scaricatelo a questo link: http://is.gd/54SS4

Il vecchio LesNasone se n’é uscito recentemento con un nuovo lavoro solista, Of Fungi And Foe. Per scaricarlo inserite questo link e buona fortuna:  http://is.gd/54SVl

PRIMUS – Antipop
Studio Album, released in 1999

Songs / Tracks Listing

1. Intro (0:17)
2. Electric Uncle Sam (2:56)
3. Natural Joe (4:12)
4. Lacquer Head (3:49)
5. The Antipop (5:33)
6. Eclectic Electric (8:34)
7. Greet the Sacred Cow (5:10)
8. Mama Didn’t Raise No Fool (5:04)
9. Dirty Drowning Man (4:48)
10. Ballad of Bodacious (3:28)
11. Power Mad (3:42)
12. The Final Voyage of the Liquid Sky (5:39)
13. Coattails of a Dead Man (9:57)

Line-up / Musicians

Les Claypool / bass, vocals
James Hetfield / guitar
Larry LaLonde / guitar
Brian “Brain” Mantia / drums
Jim Martin / guitar
Tom Morello / guitar
Martina Topley-Bird / bass

Como diría el Broso, “Hola piojosos”, pos acá les vengo dejando dos videos de una banda que me late un buen y que me cae a toda madre. Si alguien en este congal toca el bajo, sin albur por esta vez ñeros, no me podrá dejar mentir cuando digo que todo bajista ha tenido sueños húmedos con las líneas de bajo de este cabrón, así como trepadas de payaso con la persona en cuestión porque está bien cagado. Los dejo con Primus con el castorzote café de Winona.

Primero el video de estudio

Luego el de en vivo, no menos cagado

Aprovecho para mostrar mi repudio a que en la parte baja del video que se reproduce, sale el pinche comercial de iTunes para comprar la rola. Hijos de puta, algo de respeto pinches culeros atascados!

Optimus NOVA+

 

Test av Optimus Nova+

Gullik har benyttet Optimus Nova + i ca 1 1/2 år. Jeg må innrømme at jeg ble skuffet da leste bruksanvisningen og oppdaget at O.N. ikke kunne brukes med gass. Men det var kun min egen feil, for ikke å ha sjekket dette bedre på forhånd. Jeg hadde vippet mellom O.N. og Primus Omnifuel, og falt ned på O.N. pga gode resultater i tester jeg leste og designet på brenneren, som virket kompakt og hendig – noe det da også virkelig er. I dag hadde jeg nok valgt Omnifuel, skulle jeg bare hatt en brenner.

O.N. viste seg dog å være en stabil turkamerat for Gullik. Den gir kanon effekt på renset bensin (anbefaler dette, da det soter minst). Har testet med en del andre drivstofftyper også, og vært fornøyd med resultatet.

Utforming og design:

O.N. har føtter som foldes inn mot brenneren slik at den blir meget kompakt og tar liten plass. Den er også meget stabil når føttene er slått ut. Reguleringssystemet for å styre brenneren er på selve drivstoffslangen. Dette funker greit, men slangen er noe stiv, slik at den ofte kan være litt vanskelig å finjustere.

Brenner:

O.N. fungerer på alle typer flytende drivstoff uten at man må skifte dyser, noe som er en stor fordel hvis man ofte bytter mellom forskjellige drivstofftyper. Brenner rent,men bråker en del.

Rensing:

Det er et magnetsik, “magisk”, rensesystem, som fungerer slik at man fører det lille verktøyet som følger med, og har en liten magnet, under selve brenneren frem og tilbake noen ganger, slik at man beveger den lille metallnålen inne i selve brenneren. Dette gjøres gjerne rett før eller etter man har brukt brenneren. Man må regne med å rense brenneren grundig etter ca 4-5 dagers bruk. O.N. er enkel å demontere og rense, men noen av delene er ganske små. Derfor bør man ikke gjøre dette i kveldsmørke ved leirbålet, men ett sted der man har godt lys og lett for å finne igjen deler som man legger fra seg.

Det må bemerkes at Gullik har en veldig uheldig episode med nålen som regulerer brensel i selve brenneren. Denne er ekstremt liten og skjør. I et forsøk på å rense denne, klarte undertegnede å bryte av den tynne nåla, noe som har resultert i at hele brenneren nå ligger i deler i en pose, og Gullik har gått til innkjøp av en helt basic Primus Mimer Stove – og er bikkjefornøyd.

Bruk:

Har benyttet O.N. både sommer og vinter og vært godt fornøyd. Den har vist seg veldig effektiv i vinterkulda. Har brukt den sammen med et Trangia stomkjøkken. Dette krevdes dog en liten modifisering med en tang av bunndelen av stormkjøkkenet, slik at slangen til brenselflasken ble liggende riktig. T-Bone skaffet seg en Omnifuel og prøvde den med gass sammen med et stormkjøkken av samme type – noe som viste seg å være totalt mislykket, da Omnifuelen brant i stykker hele bunnen av stormkjøkkenet. Han måtte bite i gresset og skaffe seg en egen type gassbrenner tilpasset Triangia.

Etter å ha koblet sammen brenner og brenselflaske, pumper man opp et trykk i brenselflasken. Dette funker fint, men man kan oppleve at man søler noe drivstoff hvis man ikke har brent ut alt trykket i flasken før man kobler den fra hverandre. Man slukker brennren ved å vende på drivstofflasken. Den er anvist med en side for Off og en side med On. Dette funker bra, og man bør slukke den slik, for å slippe ut trykket i flasken. Man kan selvfølgelig stenge ved å vri på effekjusteringen, men man kan da oppleve at delene blir sittende fast når apparatet kjølner, og man må bruke mutitoolen for å vri delene fra hverandre. Husk derfor å ikke ha effektjusteringen vridd helt på maks eller min når ovnen kjølner.

O.N. krever forvarming. Noe som funker greit ved at man slipper ut litt drivstoff ved å Dette medfører at man får en ganske høy flamme før man starter selve fyringa, så man bør ikke gjøre dette i et lavt telt – heller ikke i leiligheten sin, ved siden av papirsøpla.

Merk:

Vindskjerm, lite verktøy og pumpe følger med. Brenselflaske medfølger ofte ikke. Tar ikke gass.

Hvis man ikke er mye på vintertur anbefaler jeg ikke folk å kjøpe en multifuel. En enkel gassbrenner, som f.eks Primus Mimer Stove (199,- XXL), er mer enn nok og er enkel å ta med seg. Man slipper også å tenke på rens og forskjellige typer drivstoff. Og så er det jæskla mye billigere!

Rock God Cred Report:

Click here to check Primus cover Pink Floyd “Have a Cigar”

Buy “Miscellaneous Debris”

First up, a pretty good Primus video that I came across here whilst tag surfing.

Two thoughts.

One, I really like that tune, although I’m not familiar with it. I suspect some of those lyrics aren’t network-TV friendly.

Also, tag surfing, I noticed a couple of comments about Les Claypool along the lines of “boy, is he weird.” I wouldn’t call Les Claypool weird. I think he transcends weird.

Here’s some bass microblogging. Hope it develops into something.

A finales de los 80 , cuando el hard rock empezaba a convertirse en una parodia de si mismo, toda una corriente de nuevos músicos empezaba a dar sus primeros pasos con la única idea de romper con todo lo establecido, desde la estética a las letras de las canciones pasando por el tratamiento de la música en si misma. Si en los 80 todo estaba encajonado por estilos en los 90 no había límites creativos . Con esas premisas empezaron a despuntar grupos como Red Hot Chilippepers mezclando funk y soul con Hard Rock logrando una mezcla explosiva, Faith No More con su estilo único que bebía tanto del Trhash metal como del funk como del Rock, Nine Inch Nails que fusionaba techno y guitarras metaleras, Rage Against The Machine con su furiosa mezcla de rap y Metal, The Prodigy con su techno punk …y por supuesto el Grunge con Nirvana a la cabeza y con Soundgarden ,Alice in Chains y Pearl Jam como máximos exponentes del género. Una década en la que le dabas una patada a una piedra y salían nil grupos acojonantes (lo mismito que ahora…) y que nos dejó un legado de discos increibles y conciertos irrepetibles.

RED HOT CHILIPPEPERS

SOUNDGARDEN

PRIMUS

RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE

THE PRODIGY

Para que después no anden diciendo que tengo gustos musicales normalitos, la que para mi es la mejor canción de Primus:

Primus – Wynona’s Big Brown Beaver – 4 minutos y medio – Video clip oficial.

Bonus: En vivo en el Show de David Letterman.

 

Download:
4shared:http://www.4shared.com/dir/22863999/83a5e684/Primus__Frizzle_Fry.html
Rapidshare:Primus-Frizzle_Fry.rar

I was today walking casually along the streets of Newtown blissfully taking in the sun which is a big thing for me as I have red hair. As I chatted away with fellow traveler Andy and we past the Enmore Theatre I noticed out of the corner of my eye a familiar and humourous blur that reeked of eclectic funk, caught in the daze of conversation and probably by this point sunstroke I traveled 3 more paces before I stopped and squealed in delight at the realization of my discovery which was confirmed when I ran back – the master of bass guitar LES CLAYPOOL is coming to play DEC 2

Is there anyone else out there who is cleaning their pants when they discovered this?

Not everyone is a fan of Les Claypool but thought you may appreciate some of the artwork that he does and promotes – they always have crazy tripping sets and costumes and stuff so should check him out or his other projects such as Primus, Colonel Clapool’s Bucket of Bernie Brains, Flying Frog Brigade etc

He is currently working on ‘Mushroom Men’ a game for Wii I believe, and a film ‘Pig Hunt’ – mushrooms and pigs are both recurring themes in his work.

See more at his website – HERE

I tried to find a pic of the poster they had up – looked pretty cool I thought but couldn’t find it online.

SOUNDTRACK: POSSESSED-Seven Churches (1985).

Back in high school I was really into heavy metal.  And I got into something of a contest to find the heaviest, scariest metal bands around.  (To counter the guy in class who was into Stryper, naturally).  Well, I think I hit the jackpot with this album.

This is brutally fast speed metal.  Growling vocals, staccato super fast drums and a general sense of doom.

The song titles tell it all: “Burning in Hell,” “Holy Hell,” “Pentagram,” “Satan’s Curse” and “Death Metal.”  Allmusic.com states that this is the first death metal album.  So, how about that?

At this point, though, I think it is most notable for featuring Larry LaLonde on guitars.

LaLonde went on to be the guitarist for Primus for many many years.  So, he turned in his upside down cross and fake blood for purple hair and an alternative rock gig.

And I’ve got the pictures to prove it.

[READ: November 3, 2009] Black Metal

This graphic novel comes from the beloved Oni Press.  It’s the story of the brothers Stronghand, adopted siblings who live and breathe black metal.  They are notoriously evil and their past precedes them. They have been to five schools in four years and, as the story starts, we see them on their first day at Ronald Reagan Jr High.  (Which at first I thought was actually “Ronald Reagan Junior” High School, which would have been even more hilarious.)

By lunchtime, they have intimidated everyone with their black metal stares.  But, when someone questions their manhood, they strike back and are instantly expelled.

It’s then that we meet their adoptive family: a super sweet blonde woman and her natural child: a booger-eating sweetly babbling toddler.

While they were at school, one of the brothers saw a girl wearing a Frost Axe shirt.  Frost Axe is, of course, a seriously heavy black metal band from Norway.  They track down the album and it blows their mind.  Lyrically, it’s about the story of a magical sword forged by The Roth, which was used in an epic battle in Hell.

When they play the album backwards, they are given a chance to pull the sword from Hell’s stone.  The rest is history.

This only gets through to about half of the story.  The rest is battles, intrigues, secrets raveled and, of course, and epic meeting with Hell’s demons and with Frost Axe themselves.

The story was fun for its epic storytelling style and adherence to Norwegian black metal’s mythic stories.  It’s also got all kinds of funny (and often juvenile) humor.  But it is rated T for teen, so it’s never too too raunchy.

The art is wonderfully dark and sinister.  The brothers Stronghand have a weird Asian/Native/Central American appearance (yeah, that’s an unlikely mix, but it works) which helps them stand out from the rest of the WASPy kids.  The demons and hellpit stuff is also pretty cool with plenty of light areas to counterpoint the darkness.

Occasionally, I found it hard to tell the characters apart. Sam and Shawn look enough alike that it’s not always clear who is who (which may even be the point).  And when the Frost Axe girl enters the picture (with the same haircut and general appearance) let’s just say there are times in battle scenes where I have no idea who is doing what. But that’s not really a big deal.

Of course, when the story reaches its end, we get a very ominous To Be Continued….  I don’t mind sequels, but I don’t like when a story is so clearly set up for a sequel that it doesn’t finish itself.  Fortunately, this story doesn’t do that.  It wraps itself up very nicely and then preps us all for the next stage of the saga.  Which is alright by me. And which I’m looking forward to.

If you like your metal black, you’ll enjoy this book.

And my word count is now 666.

Bit and pieces ce soir.

• Since I started tweeting my daily music intake, I’ve wanted an iPhone app that would simply transmit song and band information directly from the iPod to Twitter. I’ve found one in iShareTunes. Maybe Blip.fm will come out with something similar, so I can start having fun and playing DJ like MPomy.

• A tweet from David Waldman (@KagroX) tonight:

Whatever you’re thinking of tweeting is probably bullshit anyway.

• Via Le Monde’s blog, “Bonne Nouvelle” (le blog optimiste):

Exit le cliché du pilleur qui ne file pas un rond aux artistes. En réalité, ceux qui téléchargent le plus de musique illégalement dépensent en moyenne deux fois plus en achats de musique, que ceux qui ne passent jamais par le peer to peer.

• Metro shuffle, Primus edition: ‘Jerry was a Race car Driver,’ followed by ‘Pudding Time.’ Primus isn’t a band I listen to regularly, but every so often their music seriously hits the spot.

Dass Telefon-Marketing mit hochgradig unseriösen Methoden arbeitet und gewaltig nervt, ist ein alter Hut. In jüngerer Zeit werden die Callcenter-Höllenhunde aber zunehmen bissiger. Zwei Erlebnisse aus den vergangenen Tagen:

Fall 1:

Anruf einer Dame des “Finanz-Optimierers” AWD. Das ist die Firma von Carsten “Maschi” Maschmeyer, dem Hannoveraner Lover von der Ferres Vroni. Die Frau am Apparat spricht gehetzt, liest offenbar von einem Blatt oder einem Bildschirm ihre Sprüche ab, mühsam einen starken Dialekt unterdrückend. Dabei sie sie immer wieder scheinbar wahllos meinen Namen ein, wohl um so etwas wie “persönliche Ansprache” zu suggerieren. Diese Schulungen müssen aber auch wirklich grottenschlecht sein. “Herr Winterbauer, wir optimieren Ihre Finanzen. Mit uns können sie bis zu 5.000 Euro jährlich einsparen, Herr Winterbauer. Herr Winterbauer, AWD ist unabhängig. Ein Finanzberater, Herr Winterbauer, kommt unverbindlich zu ihnen nach Hause und führt ein Beratungsgespräch.”

Es fällt schwer der miserabel trainierten Hausfrau ins Wort zu fallen. Als es mir gelingt sage ich nicht, dass ich genau weiß, was ein so genannter Struktur-Vertrieb ist und ich AWD und MLP für Vertriebs-Scurken allererster Güte halte, die einen ohne mit der Wimper zu zucken in den finanziellen Ruin treiben würden. Stattdessen frage ich: “Woher haben Sie meine Telefonnummer?”

Die schlecht Geschulte schnauft schwer. “Jemand” habe mich empfohlen.

“Darf ich fragen, wer das war?”

Das wisse sie nun auch nicht, ich könne aber bei dem Besuch eines Beraters auch jemanden empfehlen und außerdem sei AWD ja unabhängig und alles zu meinem Vorteil und ob ich kein Geld sparen wolle etc.pp ging das wieder los.

Darauf ich: “Ich habe ihnen keine Erlaubnis für solche Werbeanrufe erteilt. Sie sollten wissen, dass aktive Telefonwerbung ohne Erlaubnis illegal ist. Ich könnte sie hierfür anzeigen.”

Die schlecht geschulte Hausfrau ist hörber konsterniert, dass ihre Spar-Angebote auf taube Ohren stoßen.

“Ach Gottchen, na gut…”

Und dann mein Lieblingsspruch für solche Fälle: “Rufen Sie hier nie wieder an!”

“Ja, ja ist ja schon gut, ach du meine Güte….” Man kann das Kopfschütteln der schlecht Geschulten förmlich durch den Telefonhörer sehen. Allerdings muss man den Halunken von AWD zugestehen, dass sie ihre Rufnummer offen anzeigen lassen. Wäre aber wahrscheinlich auch zu fahrlässig, sich mit “Huhu, hier ist AWD” zu melden und die Nummer zu unterdrücken. Das ist schließlich auch verboten.

Fall 2:

Der Berliner Strom-Anbietr Primus klingelt an. Ebenfalls mit offener Rufnummer. Ja, man wolle jetzt doch nochmal nachfragen, weil sie mir da noch ein extra Angebot mit ganz ganz billigem Strom usw. unterbreiten wollten.

Und auch hier wieder die bewährte Nachfrage: “Woher haben Sie meine Rufnummer?”

“Die haben sie mal angegeben!”

“Das wüsste ich aber. Kann nicht sein.”

Die Dame, besser geschult als der Trampel von AWD, leicht gereizt: “Doch, die Nummer haben sie angegeben und sie haben auch angegeben, dass sie telefonisch informiert werden möchten über neue Angebote. Sonst würden wir sie gar nicht anrufen.”

“Das ist Unsinn, ich habe nirgendwo sowas angegeben…”

“Dann vielleicht ihre Frau!”, schnappt die Callcenter-Höllenhündin zurück.

“Dann schicken sie mir doch bitte mal mein unterschriebenes Einverständis per Fax…”

“Ja, das werde ich gerne tun”, kommt es wie aus der Pistole geschossen. Huch. Habe ich denen etwa doch eine Erlaubnis für Nerv-Anrufe erteilt? Nicht dass ich wüsste… aber das Gedächtnis… mal drauf ankommen lassen.

“Faxen sie das mal. Die Faxnummer ist dieselbe wie die Telefonnummer. Die haben sie ja.” Sicherheitshalber diktiere ich der Tussi nochmal die Nummer. Sie verspricht, mir sofort die Einverständniserklärung zu faxen. Nach dem obligatorischen Hinweis von mir, trotzdem nie wieder anzurufen, schnauzt sie:

“Dann müssen sie sich eben selbst um günstigen Strom kümmern.”

Ja, muss ich wohl. Ein bisschen unheimlich ist es aber schon, dieses neue, dummdreiste Selbstbewusstsein der Callcenter-Schnepfen. Das Faxgerät schwieg übrigens still.

bonjour,

comme promis lors du dernier article du blog un petit topo sur mon sac.

Après avoir essayé 40598 sacs en avoir acheté 5887, je me suis offert le sac ultime avec lequel je pense enfin avoir trouvé mon bonheur

C’est le lowepro primus, tester au salon de la photo de Paris, histoire de voir si tout le matos passer dedans

Le gros avantage c’est qu’il n’est pas écrit en gros lowepro dessus, et qu’il existe en noir pour être discret

Pour le côté pratique les poches se sont accessible que si le sac est enlevé du dos, sauf une petite ouverture discrète sur le côté pour prendre le boitier.

Ce dernier peut être monté avec un 70-200 l IS f2.8 ou un 100-400

Comme on le remarque il reste encore de la place pour un objo ou deux dans le compartiment photo, en plus de ça la partie haute peu encore accueillir pas mal de choses.

Perso c’est la boite a bento ou le reste du matériel

me déplaçant le plus souvent en scooter, et par tous les temps, j’avais souvent un peu peur de sortir avec le sac sur le dos lorsqu’il pleuvait.

Maintenant c’est tout bon, grâce à la protection de pluie intégrée

c’est ici que l’on trouve la protection

niveau stockage de matériel j’ai mis 2 boitiers un 16-35 un 24-70 un 70-200 le lecteur de carte, un disque dur 2.5 et un flash et il restait encore la place….en plus devant j’avais mon macbook 13″

il y a aussi un support pour trépied, cela me motiveras peut être à le sortir un peu plus!!!

pas besoin d’acheter un modèle “compu” si comme moi on as un 13″, au dessus c’est obligatoire

côté confort d’utilisation, rien à redire le poids est idéalement réparti sur les hanches et les épaules

pour le prix, c’est pas donné en France, mais heureusement l’Europe ça as aussi des bons côté 90 euros avec frais de port en Angleterre

whenever Tom Waits takes the time to record an album there is a bar somewhere missing it’s storyteller.

the music on Mule Variations runs from blues, to jazzy funk, to hardened rock, and everywhere in between. this kind of frenetic genre morphing is welcomed. it lends some strength to the ‘back of the bar, clouded in smoke’ feel.

the bombastic first song, ‘Big in Japan’, features Primus playing alongside our broken balladeer. the song’s tongue in cheek brand of humor sets the table nicely for the meal that is coming to follow. the glasses are cracked, and the silverware is bent. but it is still going to be one of the most filling meals of your life. even if the cook would rather smoke and watch you while you eat it.

every song on this sixteen track album deserves mention, but i think that giving too much description of an album like this would give away some of the surprise that is necessary.

by the time the listener gets to track four, ‘Get Behind the Mule’, he has already been shown a somber man who knows when to joke, when to pull punches, and most of all when to roll up his sleeves and tell the stories he believes in. the album continues to paint pictures that have to be heard to be seen, up until track 8. track 8 is the magically creepy and moving spoken word piece, ‘Whats He Building?’ the song is a snake in tall grass. it slithers and stalks the listener. never pouncing. just watching. just watching and knowing something more than it would ever admit to.

‘Chocolate Jesus’ is another story that finds its way onto a recording. the lesson it has is a little more simple than usual. or maybe i am reading the wrong meaning. all i know is that the song fills my head with thoughts of childhood rides in the backseat of a huge old Lincoln Towncar, driving to get ice cream. the song is written in sepia tones.

the best song on the album though is the thunderous and snarling ‘Filipino Box Spring Hog’. it’s stomping piss and vinegar sound sets it apart from the rest of the album. it’s a bone dry tune that eats sun-bleaches wood and upholstery tacks. Tom’s voice here is more powerful than anywhere else on the album. it’s raspy full throat-ed sound shreds through speakers like it is on a mission. and by the end of the song it finally finishes it’s mission.

it gets its point across.

i cant recommend this album enough.

My love for Bill Mosley started some years ago when I first saw Texas Chainsaw Massacre II. His character Chop-Top made me laugh, but I felt a little dirty each time I chuckled at him.  He’d heat up the end of his scratcher with that metallic lighter, then go to town on his T-800 dome, and a little bit of nausea rose up in me with each flake of skin he’d gobble down.

\”Dog will hunt!\”

But just like telling spooky stories with friends late at night, the unnerving feelings are welcomed and even encouraged.  If an actor can honestly make you wanna feel a way that you’d adamantly avoid normally, they’re doing a damn good job.

Years later I went to the Lacey theater with a big group of friends and randoms.  The building always weirded be out when I was little because of its exterior; it looked like a fleshy melting sqaure.  I like to think  the idea behinds its construction was to pour concrete on a solid structure in the middle of a heatwave and let physics do the rest.  I digress.  The friends, randoms, and myself were going to see The Devils Rejects. I had seen House of 1,000 Corpses a couple years prior and hated it, yet I was super excited to see the “sequel” for some reason.

There’s no reason for me to go into details about the actual movie-going experience so I’ll just sum it up:  the girlfriend at the time almost vomited during the semi-truck vs crazed victim scene, my buddy Tate addressed some shusher as “bitch” then continued to explain how gore is funny, and Freebird from that day on held a totally different residence in my heart.

So many aspects are hitting all the right cylinders in the movie, but the characters standout above everything.  I’d assume the roles which carried over from 1,000 Corpses was what excited me about Rejects because otherwise the ladder had nothing going for it besides a budget.  Just how Tarentino is an expert when it comes to casting actors to actually fit a role as opposed to selling the film, Rob Zombie filled his sophomore work with people who make you believe in them and are capable of taking the audience through acts one, two, and three.  Otis Driftwood was the one character bringing home the fucking bacon, but he was actually going out and slaughtering the pigs with a big ol’ boot knife.

Bill Moseley brought this vibe to a character you’re supposed to hate, but more importantly fear.  His introduction into the film shows him laying in some mess of a room – stained tighty-whities the only thing covering his thin build – with his arm over the corpse of some dead teenage girl.  Now, unless you have a Teen Beat poster of Ted Bundy above your bed (come on, the man was a lady-killer, eh eh?), automatically you lump Mr. Driftwood into the “fuck-you-I-hope-you-choke-on-twenty-three-issues-of-Vogue” category.  As the film unfurls you start to laugh at Otis’ jokes and see him as some sort of white trash evil deity.  He’s the kinda guy that is SO much fun to go out drinking with, but every once in a while he gets the devil in him and pops you one… yet you keep going out drinking with him.  Just me?  Whatever pussies.

What I’m trying to get at is that Bill Mosley has this charisma as an actor, but his charm usually draws you to some deviant that got his seventeen year old girlfriend pregnant, crashed his Dad’s ‘63 Impala SS, and stole your piggy bank to buy meth.  That takes some talent, dammit.

Ridiculously loud laughing aside due to my humor:  we love rooting for bad guys every once in a while.  If you watch enough Jason and Freddy movies you will end up always crossing your fingers hoping that the “annoying kid in the wheelchair” character gets it, because, come on… teenagers suck.  But from time to time we wanna let a little bit of that darkness in, whether it’s laughing at someone stubbing their toe or Scratchy chopping Itchy into pieces then shooting him to the Moon.  No one is perfect – besides me in 11th grade – so sinning through thought or action is necessary here and there.  Me?  I like letting Bill Mosley do the work for me.

\”I want lightning to come down and crash upon my fucking head!\”

Via PhishTwit today, Anastasio on Primus:

“They might be my favorite band ever.”

Prawn Song Records

Are you sick and tired of the predictability of the radio these days? Do you wish for something far more exciting and interesting? Well, as Gabby La La warns on the title track of her debut album, “Be Careful What You Wish For ‘Cause it Might Come True.” This album is just about the polar opposite of predictability. The Gabby La La disc is the most intriguing album in quite a while. Describing it is damn near impossible. Put it this way. If the fairies and elves had a party, they’d invite Gabby along because the pixies thought she was quirky. For all its weirdness, Gabby has crafted some of the catchiest songs ever. I dare you to not get the title track stuck in your head for days. It sounds kind of like a perverted children’s cartoon with its assortment of instruments including accordion, sitar, electric ukulele, Theremin, toy piano and Les Claypool’s slap bass. She warns of cross dressing ghosts, pirates and her dog. She also advises to “brush your teeth” if you have too many sweets. She also waxes philosophical trying to figure out which came first, the chicken or the egg, while “drinking milk until the cows come home.”

Gabby La La’s Be Careful What You Wish For demands multiple listens. After the first time, you have to listen again just to confirm that you really did hear what you thought you did. It’s definitely an acquired taste. If you’re looking for something completely different, Gabby’s not a bad place to start.

Politics is ugly, and can be a bit much for even people like me who follow it regularly.  Blogging about politics can also be a bit much, and sometimes one needs a break.  Like I promised when I started this blog a few weeks ago, it wouldn’t be all political ramblings or commentary.  And so I’d like to begin a series of posts; a confessional, if you will; about music.

Far more than politics, music has greatly influenced my life.  As I mentioned in my introductory post, after years of struggling, I almost made a career for myself in music.  I was the original bass player in a band that will soon be famous.  Maybe I”ll reveal who it is when they finally hit the mainstream and are on TV, the radio and wherever else bands go now that the Internet has ruined the music business.  Or maybe I won’t.  But one thing I can safely say is that my time almost making it in the music business was fun, bitter, dream-like, nightmarish, exhilarating, depressing, but ultimately unsatisfying, mainly because I feel like I left a lot of unfinished business.

“What?!” you may be thinking,   “he’s a conservative–and a Christian, no less!– and was in a rock band?!  Get out of here!”  But it’s true.  I was, and still am, a musician, though I feel, now that I’m in my late twenties that I can put music into perspective better now than I could then.  My story is pretty interesting, often funny, and I feel that now is a  good time to share it.  It’ll make for some good blog posts, and spark some discussion.  After all, isn’t that what being a writer–and a blogger, especially–is all about?

So why write (right?) now?  Good question.  Yes, I am still a little bitter about the whole situation–especially considering that former good friends decided to scrub me out of the band’s history and have cut me out of their life, though I bear some of the blame for that (but can you blame me?  They tried to screw me out of my equipment!)–and who wouldn’t be?  The rug was unceremoniously and, in my opinion, unfairly pulled out from under me right when the breaks finally started going our way, breaks I was, in large part, responsible for.  But this isn’t necessarily be about therapy.  While it will be somewhat cathartic to write about these experiences, mainly I think that it will be fun to write about something other than politics.  But first, some background information is in order.

I remember the exact moment when I decided I wanted to be a rock musician.  And yes, befitting the true nature of rock n’ roll, it’s a thoroughly stupid moment.  I was ten or eleven years old, hanging out in the basement of the house I grew up in, watching an episode of The Wonder Years where Kevin Arnold befriends a hippie-ish guitar playing kid at his school, and joins his band.  It was called The Electric Shoes, or something stupidly era-appropriate like that.  I got a vicarious rush out of watching Fred Savage playing Kevin Arnold belting out power chords and exulting in the sheer power of rock n’ roll.  That’s three layers of vicarious living, for anyone keeping score.

The second big moment was my tenth or eleventh birthday, when my godfather–a die-hard Beatles fan–made me tape copies of their entire catalog.  I must have listened to those tapes daily for the next five years, before I was finally able to buy my own copies on CD.  For a few years there, I wanted to be George Harrison, still my favorite Beatle.

The third big moment made me really want to play the bass.  I was in the fifth grade watching MTV with my brother, back when MTV showed music videos.  We saw a live clip of Primus playing “My Name Is Mud.”  The sounds Les Claypool got out of his bass, and the way he mangled it, made me fall in love with what is, let’s face it, the lamest of all rock instruments.  That might say something about me.  But one doesn’t play the bass to get famous, and I dare anyone to argue otherwise.

Finally, the fourth big moment was when my dad started replacing much of his vinyl with CDs back in the mid-90s, when record companies finally got around to remastering and re-releasing some of their classics.  The albums he brought home from Circuit City that fateful night were Live Cream Vol. I and Vol. II by Cream, and Live at Leeds by The Who.  Cream’s “N.S.U.” and The Who’s “Heaven and Hell” absolutely blew me away.  Listening to Jack Bruce and John Entwistle, respectively, was a light bulb moment if there ever was one.  ”Aha!” I thought while I listened to their fantastic bass playing.  ”That’s what I want to play!”

And so, I can safely say that Paul McCartney, Les Claypool, Jack Bruce, John Entwistle, and . . . uh . . . Fred Savage/Kevin Arnold made me want to be a rock n’ roll bass player.

Now, I have a love-hate relationship with rock n’ roll.  I agree with Pete Townshend that it is very, very important and very, very ridiculous.  I mean, most of it is poorly written and performed, violent, anti-social, drug-fueled, and misogynistic.  And that’s just the good stuff!

Wait.  I meant, most of it is poorly written and performed, violent, anti-social, drug-fueled, and misogynistic.  And that’s just The Rolling Stones!

Argh.  Let’s try this again.  It is poorly written and performed, violent, anti-social, drug-fueled, and misogynistic, but I like it anyway.  There is something primally satisfying about the loudness, the drums, the screaming, the anger . . . it’s enough to hook any teenager.  It is like a drug, or more accurately, a religion.  Rock and roll is the answer, and the musicians are its priests and apostles.  Who wouldn’t want to be an active participant in that religion?  I don’t quite buy Diana West’s argument that rock ‘n roll is the root of all that is evil in America today, but now that I’m an adult, I can better understand how messed up and, yes, stupid it all is.

So after a year trying to convince myself that I wanted to play the guitar by practicing on my mother’s old acoustic, I got a bass–a Beatle-bass copy–and a tiny Epiphone amplifier for my fourteenth birthday, and my love-hate relationship with rock n’ roll was in full swing.  Where it would take me, I had no idea, but from the first, I knew it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Such are the dreams of youth.

-Mister Person

PS If anyone reading knows what band(s) I used to be in, please don’t say so here.  I’m not here to name names or passively-aggressively get back at anyone.  I just want to tell a story.  Thanks!