Friday, February 24, 2006

FACT #909-- DUDES WHO LOOK LIKE THOMAS DOLBY DO NOT LISTEN TO BLITZ... If you would like proof, just take a peep at this --

Anyone who is no-one knows Paul Major is the real deal. An encyclopedia on barely existent Psych and Hard Rock jams from the 60’s and 70’s…the guitarist for the constantly delivering Endless Boogie…record dealer extraordinaire…provider of whacky records to David Letterman (whuh?) The man is an interview waiting to happen, more or less. So when some certain someone told me of a certain moment in time when Paul guest deejayed on WNYU back in the early 90’s, you know I had to hear it. And hear it I did! The dupe provided to me hasn’t left the deck in days. Paul expounds on tales from the marshmallow dimension (through tons of echo of course) while playing obscure 60’s/70’s jams by Morgen, Curtis Knight, Spare Change, John Scoggins, Arthur Lee Harper, etc. It’s a true late night boiner. Hopefully one day you’ll turn on to it. Don’t look at me though…I don’t believe in sharing…and I smoke and I don’t vote….SO THERE!

Jakob Olausson is a Swedish cat who usually records under the moniker of the Joshua Jugband Five. From what I remember of the CDR released on the Slippytown label a few years back, the JJ5 stuff was the kinda fuzzed out hippy dementia that would drive both punkers and grandmas out of the room in disgust. This ’solo’ LP of his on DeStijl, ’Moonlight Farm’ isn’t too disturbing at all. In fact, it’s downright beautiful. Jakob’s lonerisms sound legit and the way he shoots them across the night sky is something that’ll please anyone who was knocked out by Benny Chasny’s first vinyl etchings or St.Mikael’s first one. It’s the kinda record that fetches the slippers and the pipe and lets you know the day is over…even when it’s 10 a.m. Just my style.

The fact Jessica Rylan releases records, tapes, CDR’s, commemorative plates, etc. is one more reason for getting up off your gray mat in the morning. Heavy Tapes just did up a new cassette by her entitled ‘Flight To The Ivory Tower/Total Confusion Recreation’ and it’s yet another gem in her long line of ‘em. Jessica’s willingness to let the sounds broadcasting from her electronics just lay and flail and collapse and do whatever they wanna do is pretty refreshing in this day and age of the tight fisted noisenik. But you don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to. I mean…look at me! I’m covered in cat hair!!! Gross!!!

Most of the above is available at the Fusetron website. Dig it...

O.K….that’s more than enough for now. Next time around there’ll be craptastic writing on Mouthus, Hive Mind, Workbench, The Loosers, Home Blitz and maybe all that other stuff I always mention in the other entries that I never get around to. We’ll see…
P.S. -- FANX! To Disco Danny D. for the Blitz linkage.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

HOW I EVER BECAME THE REVEREND NORB FOR CRAP ROCK, I'LL NEVER KNOW... I had read Eva Salens' blog (A.K.A. Inca Ore) before hearing any of her music. Her site was crammed with narcotic fueled ramblings concerning living on a pot farm, wearing ill fitting clothing and tap dancing for Jackie O-Motherfather. As you can imagine, I was highly intrigued. I heard that a CDR of her actual sounds was available on the Jyrk imprint, but I never got around to picking it up. . . What can I say? I'm a sloth. So you better believe I was stoked when I found out the Weird Forest label had re-issued the thing on vinyl in a stunning silk-screened cover. Almost makes it worth being a slow moving slug like me. All you get here is Eva's voice layered and stretched and phased into a weightless heaven where snowmen melt slowly and surely. Sometimes I wish this is what it sounded like when I hummed to myself. Sometimes I wish I could broadcast this through a crappy p.a. system in a church basement. And then sometimes I wish I had a REALLY GOOD sandwhich. Unfortunatly, wishes sometimes never come true. Maybe if you pick this album up, you'll imagine a wish came true and you'll be happy for a second. Who knows...

I recall having a phone conversation with John Olson back in the early 00’s where he told me the original guitarist for Universal Indians had serious ‘Neil Young damage’. Some of those U.I. rock jams had some serious slo-mo action going on, but I never really understood what he was on about until I scored this newly released LP of old U.I recordings entitled 'Monster Approach' on the Killer Tree label. The first jam, ‘Place In The Sun’, is a full-on, jacked up rocker, but from there the record rides into a totally nuclear sunset. Ever have a dream about a Zuma Beach tidal wave hitting Detroit to clean Pappy Brannon’s soul clean? If so, you need this disc. You poor, poor soul...

Word from a bird tells me Philadelphia’s Violent Students has just released their CD on the estimable Parts Unknown label outta the Jersey Shore. I’ve had a copy of this thing for awhile now and I gotta tell you it’s the most heinous thing you could buy this year, thus far. No one else has the nerve to turn the riff from ‘Seekers Of The Truth’ into a fifteen minute throb rock opus like these guys do. All the heartless insanity you expect from your pastey noise icons is right here, no doubt about it. Pick it up now before some jerk ass on some other website tells you how he ‘discovered’ them. Those kinda people…they’re not good people. Linkage to the Parts Unknown label below…

In the ‘get now while the getting’s good’ department…Be sure to trek over to the Midheaven site to score yourself a re-issue of Gauze’s classic debut LP from 1984, lovingly entitled ‘Fuckheads’. This record is the Japanese equivalent to ‘Damaged’ or ‘Tied Down’ in sheer, vicious invention. You need it. I tell ya… the more I write this crap, the more I feel like Mike Tyson. Christ...

I know this disc is old news to most people who wear velvet on a daily basis, but the Akarma label has just done up a hockey puck thick vinyl re-issue of the Brit Prog Rock classic ‘It’ll All Work Out In Boomtown’ by T2. Although this disc fills all the tills as far as being overblown and highly theatric, it kinda bowled me over at how musically ambitious it was. Tons of brass makes the tracks abit more lively than the usual Dungeons and Dragons affair and the trios’ willingness to let loose abit (Check the side lone track ‘Morning’) makes me think these guys wouldn’t of suckled at Greg Lake’s twelve string if he ordered them to. That’s cool. The guitarist for T2, Keith Cross, put out an excellent album a few years after this with a dude named Peter Ross. It’s entitled ‘Bored Civilians’ and it’s on Decca. If you ever find a copy, you should send it to me…got it?

Oh yeah, for those who care, 200LBU#5 is now available. It contains too many reviews and a history lesson on Finish Kiddie Core legends, The Demars. E-mail me at and we’ll go from there.

If you actually care about any of this stuff, get with these people and they’ll help you out--
Next time around will I dare and try to write about this Vex’D double CD? Or Cher’s ‘3614 Jackson Highway’ or the latest Jakob Olausson LP on DeStijl? Will I go on for virtual pages about Evie Sands? While you ponder these and many other questions, check out my newest hero --
Until Then…

Sunday, February 05, 2006


So far I see Sab, Bloodclot, Harley, Tesco and so much more! Oh tell me, oh tell me who you see!



So you think you've seen and heard it all as far as overblown abstract heavy rock goes? What? You didn't say that? Oh's these new glasses. Make everything sound so blurry. But Blues Control do seem to be on to something in the ( 'genre' mentioned above. Sorry to hear you bought that thirty dollar Tetuzi Akiyama album when you could of been blown away by B.C.s' robo boogie for mere pennies via this cassette. Go here and they'll sort you out: --//

When a fellow came to my New Years' Eve party and was eyeing up my Four Skins collection, I knew I was onto someone who was either going to be a pal or an enemy. Luckily, he just became an acquaintance who sort of remembers my name and he's in a band named Awesome Color. A.C. don't play no bootboy anthems, but they do pull out a pretty muscular brew of Detroit sound/rock action for the pretty people. I am by no stretch of the imagination 'pretty', but I still am allowed to enjoy the sounds and stand there looking like my cat just died while everyone gyrates and such around me. Yah know...Sometimes those pretty people can be SO nice. The only thing I can do is direct you to their 'myspace' page (What the hell is that?) I guess you can catch up with them there and you can talk about how great that bowl of Grape Nuts you ate today was. Once again...'ugh' --

Rochester's Pengo have carved out a truly unique spot for themselves in the past few years. Live, they can sometimes come off like some manic tribal ritual that would of taken place on the Spahn Ranch right before a creepy crawl. Their recorded output can be a confusing though fulfilling stew of found audio, grey noise clouds and ham fisted guitar wrenching that would send any strong blooded struggler for the Geritol in no time. This double disc set, entitled 'Alchemy and Bullshit', is made up of various live recordings done around their hometown a few years back and it showcases the various forms of dementia this unit is capable of. The first disc is a perfect soundtrack for a late night wander through old newspaper clippings and various forms of mildew found behind the toilet. The boys attempt to cover Blue Oyster Cult, Thin Lizzy, Negative Approach and Organization only to end up sounding like pygmies dropped off in the middle of Sunflower City with only a bamboo shoot and a paper thin guitar pick to fend with. The gem of this disc is the closing 'Official Genius' which meanders through much fog and steam to relieve itself in a way only Captain Beefheart or Ansley Dunbar would find fitting. How quaint. The second disc is made up of shorter pieces of subtle mud slapped guitar crap that'll have ya heavin' in no time. Swap a copy of your Hunger Artist 12" to the fine folks at the Carbon label and maybe they'll throw ya one --

When I think of Th' Faith Healers, my mind reels back to a condominium in Newtown, Pennsylvania where a late teen/early twenties buddy lived with his mother. Their debut LP would spin ad infinitum there while bong loads of righteous boo and other narcotics were stupidly consumed. Their cover of 'Mother Sky' made me pester my brother to finally let me borrow all those Can records he'd been going on about for years and I generally consider the disc to be one of the many eye openers in this pointless musical journey I've been on my whole life. Have I listened to it in the past ten years? Of course not. To be honest, I think I might have sold it off years ago. So, hearing this new collection of John Peel sessions (on the BaDaBing! label) at this point in my life has been a strange experience. Lots of cringes and half smiles have been made while listening to it, but that could just be me. There's no doubt Th' Faith Healers were head and shoulders above the many limey contestants in the My Bloody Valentine sweepstakes of the early nineties. Where many were merely trying to collapse under the weight of their pop sensibilities and a junked up surging guitar sound, these chumps still sound like they were not in control of the sounds they were creating. The beefy swirl of Tom Cullinan's guitar sound still packs a wallop as it manages to deteriorate the surroundings of everything surrounding it. And the heave on tracks like 'Get The Fuck Out Of My face' and 'Ooh La La' keep such a tight clench on the U.K. Punk sound of the early eighties, you'd think this shit might of came out on the Riot City or No Future label. Nostalgia is a concoction I never want to taste, so I'm in total denial to the reasoning that this might be the basis on why I enjoy this disc so much. I mean, shit...the last thing I want to re-live is smoking codeine and peeing my pants. Let's just say there's still room in my dark little heart for this and 'Loveless' and 'Dirty' and 'Shoulder Voices' for the mere reason they merged the dissident noise I loved as a young punker with the pop hooks that we all long for in our deepest dreams, no matter how many C.O.C. records we ever owned. End of sermon. Pay as you leave.

WHY LISTEN TO SOMETHING THAT YOU'RE NOT?--Sometime soon there will be more pointless musing on Universal Indians, Mouthus, Inca Ore, The Allied, Violent Students, Attak, Douglas Bregger, Can't, and more in-depth analysis on the meaning behind many of the Cockney Rejects lyrics...

Friday, February 03, 2006


Yo dudes/dudettes--

Check out this interview conducted circa NOW with Johnny Waste, guitarist for that almighty first string NYHC band, Urban Waste. Coulda done with more stories of sketchy NYHC street life circa '82, but the piece is interesting/informative/entertaining nonetheless. Catch it here--

And since I'm in the mood to smash skulls and skank hard, why don't we talk about some female British singers from the mid sixties? Twinkle strutted into the British music scene in 1964 with the rather creepy but beautiful self penned tune, 'Terry', an homage to a boyfriend who died in a tragic 'motor bike' accident. Yeah...a guy named Terry being a tough British biker...I can see that. Anywhos, the song went to number four on the U.K. charts and primed Twinkle to release a string of singles in England that didn't really match the success of 'Terry', but still made grown men want to don beehive wigs and wear white lipstick. Some of you might know her track 'Golden Lights', which was covered by The Smiths and was the B-Side to the 12" single of 'Ask'. Yes, I knew that off the top of my head. You can stop reading at this point if you want. I understand. That label I love so much, RPM, did up a CD a few years back compiling all of Twinkle's singles entitled 'Golden Lights' and it's quite something, let me tell you. The dichotomy in the material is somewhat disorienting. Tracks like 'Tommy', 'Poor Old Johnny' and 'I Need Your Hand In Mine' stick in the 'Cor blimey! Me boyfriend done left me and/or died' vein and might have you droppin' a salty tear for ole Twinkie. But then there's 'Ain't Nobody Home But Me', 'Take Me To The Dance' and 'What Am I Doing Here With You?', tracks that make you long for some adolescent innocence you never had. But I think I see a theme here...Twinkle meets boy at dance...or invites him over to her parents' barren house...or meets him in some strange town and has a fling...AND THEN HE DIES! Remind me never to go over her house for tea and blood pudding. But man, if you track this down (plenty of 'em over at it'll have ya floatin' on clouds. More so than that live Warzone set with Tommy Rat singing? Well...I never said that...

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Alotta people axe me (they axe me) ‘Hey goober, when’s that next paper issue of 200LBU coming out?’ Soon after delivering a sound blow to their windpipe, I understand they have a point. The last one came out over a year ago, and the one before that came out…well…let’s not get into that. I guess I really have no reason for not putting one out except that I find it painfully hard to paste words to a page and take them to be printed. It’s much easier to let the kind people at Blastitude or whatever simply throw them up on the internet and be done with it. But once in awhile, I do get that yearning to deliver something that is all my own. For the times when I do get that pang, I decided to do this dummy blog thing.
I hope you ‘enjoy’--TR


VEGAS MARTYRS - ’Choking Doberman’ (Kitty Play, 7”)
When ole apple pie face told me of his new ’Punk’ band, I thought it was real cute. The cassette they released was a decent blast of soot, but I still wasn’t on board. But then I saw them live (about as violent a band I’m gonna get in this time of geezerdom) and heard this 7” and I’m a total card carrying member Pops. Both sides sound like some kinda Psychedelic black metal wet dream scrapped right outta Donna Rettman’s pink sweatpants. The way the sucker looks drives it right there into legendville as well.
Between this single and the more rockin’ parts of ’Black Vase’, I could swear Dominick (the Mike Judge of noise) is dipping into Richard Dunn’s weed stash, but I don’t think that Dom’s edge will go dull EVER.

MAJOR CONFLICT - ‘Sounds Like 1983’ (Mad At The World, CD)
I recall at least one long lost high school collector buddy of mine scoring the Major Conflict 7” back in the day. I remember being real excited to hear it since it was something of a missing link in our early NYHC record collecting, but the actual sound of the thing left us cold. Both time and awesome liner notes from Wendy Guillotine hasn’t changed my mind. The actual tracks from the 7”still sound pretty lackluster considering who’s involved (ex-Urban Waste dude!) and the unreleased tracks come off too anthem like and mid-tempo for me to care. Brings to mind the L.A. Youth Brigade…not a good memory, really. There are some flashes of sweaty thrashing mania recorded at A7 that are pretty cool to hear, but overall, this disc just makes me anxious to hear this label’s upcoming Misguided discography CD. And if that’s doesn’t say something to ya, forget I said anything at all.

I’ve been getting alotta sideways comments these days about my recent obsession with all sounds lush and foppy. Having hipsters over for a meet ‘n’ greet and blaring something like this certainly separates the guff from the tuff in a heartbeat and splits a room apart in the same way your fave dirt quaffed noiser would at a martini shindig. Is this the new frontier? Now that I’ve hit upon people who don’t bellyache over hearing Rutto and David Stoughton in the same evening. Is this the stuff that will drive them ’round the bend? Hmm…gimme a few nights and a few Steel Reserves and I’ll give you one dandy of an essay on the subject. For now, I’d rather skip through the daises (I.e.--crushed 40 bottles) to this gemstone and forget my dead end existence. Roger Nichols wrote alotta tunes with that infamous dwarf Paul Williams (check the Holy Mackerel review) plus he even wrote ‘We Only Just Begun’ for The Carpenters. If that don’t tell you of the cat’s magnitude, go suck several eggs. But before Karen’s fingers started to smell of rotten beef stew, Rog did up this sunshine pop masterpiece. Is this disc goofy? Oh, you betcha! Even the cornball Beatles covers make me grit my teeth, and I’ve been known to play ‘Kites Are Fun’ on a loop while fondling my crystal unicorn collection. But their version of ‘Snow Queen’ is like listening to angels sing while eating cookies and getting a hand job. Pure bliss. Rev-Ola has done it again in the re-issue department. Between this and the Chrysalis re-issue, I just might plotz. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?

FRICARA PACCHU - ‘Waydom’ (Lal Lal Lal, cassette)
Maniac’s Dream kinda strikes me as the real mouth frothers of the Avarus camp, with no concern for bongos or bamboo. But now one of the dudes from the band puts out this tape and it sounds like he’s smoking Jesus’ toenails and I don’t know what the fuck to do. High and spaced, this sounds like if I decided to re-record ‘Space Ritual’ in my living room using my coffee table as a drum set. Completely beautiful. Black and white psychedelic? Yeah…I guess there’s such a thing.

WATERSPORTS - s/t (White Tapes, cassette)
S/t (White Tapes, CDR)
Yeah…ya know…in this day and age so much dense black goo, it’s nice someone ain’t afraid to move up front and whisper so confidently. And this Brooklyn love triangle duo (?) is just the cat/kitten to do so. The cassette is a barely there affair that starts off sounding like a recording of your grand mama watching a infomercial in the next room. But then something of a simple beat rises out of the nowhere and turns the silence into a subtle urban dervish. Nice. Just be sure not to ‘rock’ this while the upstairs neighbors blast the latest Eminem. It just won’t be the same…trust me. The CDR is a super bite sized (eight minutes or so) collaboration with Richard Dreyfuss look-a-like Aaron Rosenblum and the fidelity is kicked up a notch, as well as the energy level. A rain soaked Greenpoint street provides an exquisite ambience while Russ, Leay and Aaron kick up a mish mashed faux ethnic hoedown that references everything from Habibyya, Bruce Palmer, Sun City Girls and any other blanks your collector ass wants to fill in here. All I gotta say is more releases, more live outings and more drunken house parties on Grandparents Avenue will make my demeanor go form ‘ashy’ to ‘classy’ in a heartbeat, so let’s give the red and the black our full support…cool?

ESPERS - ‘The Weed Tree’ (Locust Sound)
The glut of late 60’s/early 70’s U.K. folk rock inspired units that have sprouted up in the past few years is enough to drive anyone to their Cockney Rejects single collection. But I have found Philadelphia’s Espers to be one of the few that do it right and pleasing to the ear. Sure, it’s studied, but so are you , ya college graduating bastard, so don’t give me no guff. This somewhat short release (EP? Mini-LP?) is made up of covers from various artists these beardos have found inspiration in and I certainly can’t complain about their choices or the way they are both attacked and loved. The ‘expected’ ones (Nico, Hurley and a couple trad Brit folk tunes) are exquisite as anticipated, but it’s the more oddball selections they’ve chosen that have left me reeling. Their interpretation of the Durutti Column’s ’Tomorrow’ is something I could have never fathomed in all my stoned out fantasies. The way Greg Weeks’ and Meg Bairds’ voices lace together makes the mind drift to pleasant thoughts of sunsets, sunrises and maybe the occasional chocodile. It might as well be a cover of something from one of your fave obscure U.K. folk records, and that am ain’t no bad thing. Equally fucked and exhilarating is their cover of Blue Oyster Cult’s ‘Flaming Telepaths’ which hold on to the tracks’ bizarre mix of melancholy and out-and-out ROCKNESS, but throws a curve in turning into a noisy, uncontrollable rock jam towards the end. Apparently bigger things are ahead for these cats (A Drag City LP, a tour with Stereolab) and I can’t say they don’t deserve it. When you have stood through your one hundred and fiftieth ‘ensemble’ strumming acoustic guitars and braiding their armpit hair, you can’t help but be thankful for groups like Espers. And you better be thankful, buster.

AFTERNOON PENIS - ‘In The Evening’ (Heavy Tapes)
Afternoon Penis is the solo side guise for Nate Nelson, the human metronome/dangler for that constantly swelling duo known as Mouthus. This strictly cassette affair finds Nathaniel lost in his own rhythm like some retarded version of the late, lamented Chris Penn character in ‘Footloose’. It’s the eternal heartbeat for a lost generation. Did you ever wish their could be a fifth and sixth side of ‘Tusk’? Wish no more my fine feathered, fat assed friend...

WARMER MILKS - ‘Penetration Initials’ (Mountain, CDR)
I kept thinking about this dry wood. I didn’t know it was supposed to look like that. A slight shift of air. A quick stab of darkness shot through the green. That was the last time I remembered that moldy smell in the air and those really high knee socks. After that moment, everything just sank in shit and didn’t stop. Even now, I can’t feel anything but this slight chill that rises up my back from time to time. Sometimes I wonder what their motivation was. Well, to be honest, I think I know exactly what they’re motivations were. But then there it was, confusing and enlightening in it’s way. I remember my sisters’ boyfriend saying ‘Holy Shit!’ in a jock stoner voice and walking closer. I looked away from the dried wood and saw this fleshy tabletop. He waved me on further into the woods and I had to follow him. But I looked back a few times before I went further down the trail. Clothes were sort of there, not really though. It looked like they just shoved them off where they could and that was that. I didn’t tell anyone what I saw.


Oh yeah, most of this stuff is readily available at