GOT SLUDGE IF YOU WANT IT...BUT IT COMES WITH A COSMIC PRICE Years from now, when Matador will be known as the AmRep for the late double o's and Matt Kosloffs' pubic hair will be auctioned off at Sotherbys', there will be kids digging through piles of chest hair and gravy lookin' for obscure artifacts from this time in weirdo history. There will be plenty of CDR's, 7"s, etc. filled to the gills with poser shit, but I'm supposing there will be some stuff worthy of the dig. One such dinner plate will be this Snake Apartment 12" just released on the Parts Unknown imprint. Rhode Islands' Snake Apartment seem to fit snugly in with your Urinated-On Trousers...your Cockcleaners...your Helmodummies, etc. but what they got that those dudes don't is two peg legs both rooted firmly in those shitty 80's and those even shittier 90's. Sure, these guys know the second side of 'My War' like the back of their schlong, that's a rather obvious (and very beautiful) thang. But the opening track on this disc, 'Paint The Walls', was a hard flashback to fifteen years ago on those first couple of listens. I shut my eyes and sprang back to Tad yelling at kids in my hometown to stagedive. Was this good? Do I even own a Tad record anymore? After awhile, these self Stalinized thoughts became decent memories and made me think, 'Shit, maybe I should get those Vertigo records outta hock?' Is it time for a re-think on Helmet? I guess anythings better than staring at the walls... Nonetheless, the dudes evenly worship the sludgy riffage of Ginn and the Sub Plopped 90's headshaker sound with equal aplomb and pretty gnarly results. Maybe I'll even knock the remote off my paunchy gut and see these guys if they're stupid enough to wanna play New York. Hot damn! So...if you consider yourself 'Mr. Vegas', send twelve bones to fatrich1@yahoo.com and lemme know what you think...Like I give a shit...

There will be a slight decline in posting here for a week or so. Shithead ghetto youth and banker asswipes have caused me to need extreme therapy in the form of hot rock massages and breakfasts at the Frontier. Hopefully you can get along on your own.

COLUMBUS OHIOS' VEGETATIVE STATE HAVE BEEN WATCHIN' YOU THROUGH THE WIND-UH!

Above -- Vegetative States' spiritual leader receives a happy ending from hot gook gash.

Since those culture vultures over at the Bull Tongue have hepped themselves to Clevelands’ Homostupids, the collective we had to find some new young Midwestern Punker necks to sink our tender fangs into. After much perusing of countless distro websites, we settled on this three song single by Columbus’ Vegetative State. What made us settle on them you axe? Well, the cover seemed to be a homage to Don Knotts, a sure sign of quality. I just figured, anyone willing to be so blatantly retarded in the graphics department has to have something going on in their musical pants. And as usual, I was right. Reports tell me the cats behind these tunes are of the young and drunken variety and it certainly shows. The two tracks that make up the first side have an inept quality to them that sounds like an early live tape of the Germs or that first Court Martial single played by mentally challenged walruses. The flipside of this single was the thing that made me really sit up and take notice though. It’s this long winded Psychedelic Punk mistake entitled ’Laguna Beach Rules’. It sorta lumbers on for awhile in a weird fumbling fog until the guitarist busts out this solo that sounds like it’s straight off of ’Kings of Oblivion’ or something. Is all this blundering a pose? How can you sound like you failed a tryout for Maniax one minute and then mimic Larry Wallis the next? The record is just this huge, hanging question mark for me. A total mystery item. A total mystery item with a MySpace page…. Oh brother! You can order this sucker for four clams here --
http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=21529336

Now someone get me a flea bath...quick...

C'MON IN EVERYBODY! AN EARLY MID-LIFE CRISIS FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE!!! A few weeks ago, a buddy and I drove down to Philly to see an honest-to-goodness real life Hardcore show in the year 2007. The line-up couldn't be beat I thought. Canada's Fucked Up, the recently resurrected Philly Hardcore legends YDI and Virginia's Government Warning. As the days grew closer, the shittier my work situation became and my contempt for the adult rat race grew. I counted the hours until we left on this trip and wondered in my head if I would actually clock some kid in the pit while Fucked Up busted out that 'Police' jam. I had a checklist in my noggin of all the new fangeled Hardcore platters I would pick up at the show. Yes, I agree it was sad, but it was helping not clock a client in the mouth, so I stuck with it. One night when I was walking home from work, I thought how much I needed something like Hardcore now more than I ever did when I was a kid. All I had then was an implanted hatred of the norm. Now I have bills, a crap job, an honest fear of everything and no hair. What do I have to go off to in my current situation? Tell me!

The ride down was great. Good jams and kindly fat asses serving fried chicken. After a few beers, we walked down to the hall where the show was going on. 'Y'all think it's Woodstock down here?!?' axed a street urchin to a group of fresh-faced Hardcore kids. Ah, guff from the local color. Perhaps Punk Rock hasn't changed that much... Government Warning was already rollin' when we got in. Within seconds, as corny as it sounds, everything felt real. I'm not saying I had some post-revelatory moment. I'm just saying the energy felt pure. Government Warning were tight shit with a drummer that's a phenomenal spiritual son to Lucky. Kids knew all the words and good dives were done (Feet first...nice touch!) While I was watching them, I flashed back to Flipside videos of Stalag 13 and Adolescents. So far, so good. I'm usually pretty opposed to seeing reunited Punker bands, but I felt the need to see YDI as I found them to be an open-ended case in my life. My brother had their 'A Place In The Sun' 7" and that record really intrigued me. When I finally got to see them as a tot (Opening for Samhain maybe?) there was not a flannel shirt or bald head in sight. Elbow length leopard skin gloves and frizzed out hair is what I got. I just caught on to all this aggro face to face and everybody was going metal or wimping out. I was bummed. Their singer Jackal came to the stage tonight in an old ass Upstarts shirt and leather pants. He said it was nice to be playing in front of some 'young guys' rather than 'old farts in bars'. He seemed happy. I mean, as happy as you can look singing songs like 'I Killed My Family' or 'Mad At The World'. There was certainly nothing offensive about it. They was no pandering or posing. Why should I suspect that in the first place? Is there really anything they should expect to gain? These are the thoughts I wrangled with as I kept gazing at Jackyls' Upstarts shirt and thinking 'If he takes that thing off, I'm grabbin' it and running off to Mexico'. A few old faces were caught up to (If you told me I'd be in a room with the likes of Robby Redcheeks in my 30's, I'd think you're on the pipe) and I went to swill more beer during the wait for Fucked Up. I guess in the interim of guzzling brews and shooting shit, someone let off a fire extinguisher in the hall. The whole crowd was more or less standing outside the hall covering their faces. Again, more proof Punk Rock never changes. Once the hall was cleared, Fucked Up started out with 'Police' and my compadre said 'Shouldn't you be killing someone right now?' But I didn't. C'mon, the idea of a grown man beating the hell out of some kid in a sleeveless Japanese HC shirt sounds funny at first, but in reality it's sadder than sad. So I just stood to the side and pushed back kids that barrelled into me. One guy seemed like he was doing it on purpose, which in my pittin' days, was an extreme no-no. I pushed him by the neck while holding either end with my pointing finger and thumb. It was then some large kid with a shaved head said in my ear 'Yo, you can't be doing that shit!'. I rasied my brow and squinted at the kid. It was then I knew I couldn't go home*. Madonna's 'This Used To My Playground' played in my head and I sulked to the back. Why was I someplace where some kid is telling me what I can't or can do? Why did I push this kid by the neck? Fucked Up played for awhile with numerous technical difficulties which sorta was bringing me down more. But overall, I'd say the evening was a success. Much records were bought and much sweet beautiful drunk talk was made over Black Flag and Judge. But will I go to another HC show again? I'd say 'yes'. The lofts of Brooklyn are filled with bands I've seen over and over again. Even if I've never seen them, I feel I have. Some might say the idea of HC in this time and age is kinda weird. I think so too and that's why I wanna dig into it. The sight of the guitarist of Government Warning in a Chronic Sick shirt was mindblowing to me. This thing has legs and gotten to the point where the kids started dictating the history. It needs further investigation. So excuse me if I misplace that Birds of Delay review somewhere, I'm listening to 86 Mentality.

WHO BE THE KING? Pictured above -- King Darves performs after getting over what looks like a bad case of V.D.


A few months ago, I went off on some major props fest here regarding all those crazy kids in the New Brunswick/Highland Park area of New Jersey and their crazy ways. Most of them I knew in the CDR/cassette format and I done seen a few with my own peepers to know they were legit, but the one that was still cloaked in a cheesecloth of mystery to me was this guy from down there who went by the name of King Darves. I saw a few of his tape releases lying around at a relatives' apartment, but I was too busy at that particular moment gettin' lifted and listening to all the newest blippity bloop 12"s' to give it a listen. So friggin' finally I get a hold of a CDR he did with the title 'The Sun Splits For...The Blind Swimmer' a few nights ago and I gotta say I'm as bowled over by this as I've been by all that shizz from the same area rug. For some reason, I figured he was either doing some sorta big boned noise thing ala the thing he does with Mr. 2673 named Asps, or a lame 'New Weird' knock-off. So I was rather shocked and pleased when the prettiest sound with a deep, rich voice came out of the headphones that made me tap my toes and nod my head like a little goil. Now, I get the feeling you're gonna take one look at the photo of KD pictured above and think 'Oh boy! Another guy with a beard and an acoustic guitar, where's my ax?' But it ain't like that I tell ya! The bedrock of this' mans' conncoction is certainly folk based, but he ain't wearin' no headband and singing of pixies. This is somewhere between rollie cigs and the foggy vision of Big Pink from somewhere on Jersey Avenue or maybe a one-manned Meat Puppets. And this kid can really cobble something together in his kitchen sink. I haven't been this dizzy for a one-manned (genuine) musical matter since last years' Colossal Yes disc, which is really saying something if you've ever been around me when I'm in my 'Drunk and boring you with shit you don't care about' mood. But where Mr. Yes wants to be Elton John fed through Kendra Smiths' kidneys, Mr. Darves wants to be Dick Curless fed through a Rutgers' students' bowels (Right after the Tuesday night veal loaf) You get my drift? Enough gay ass word play...Get with this kid at his MySpace thingy and tell him to make more and feed them to a public too fat on Wooden Wand as well as his vanishing shlong...

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=32085219

Other good shit that might get talked about when I'm not so bloated on garlic...

Various Artists -- 'No Bullshit Volume 2' 7" (No Way)
Mala -- 'Bury Da Bwoy'/'Hunter' 12" (DMZ)
Government Warning -- 'No Moderation' 12" (Feral Ward)
Vegetative State -- 7" (Death by Noise)
D. Charles Speer -- 7" (Sound @ One)
Koro -- 'Speed Kills' 12" (Sorry State)
Order -- 'Kickball' 7" (?)
Emeralds -- 'Dirt Weed Diaries Vol. One' CDR (Maim & Disfigure)

I GET ME MEDICIDE FROM THE NATIONAL ELF...

The inner debate still rages on with me about the amount of records I order these days from labels with such names as No Way and Painkiller. Is this a mid-life crisis or just a rethink of roots? Hmm... One thing's for sure, no matter how many spins I give that Wasted Time 7", I still got plenty of couch and grass time for anything revolving around the London based Morphogenesis troupe. The subtle creep and sweep of their ways has made many a late night seem like a pit of lush silver to me and that 'Stromatolites' jam from the late 90's still sounds pretty keen-o. Morphogenesis' Adam Bohman (pictured above) did up a solo joint sometime in '99 or 2000 entitled 'Music and Words' that I thought was a real crack-up. Lots of bed springs scraping and whatnot while Adam kept turning the handheld tape recorder on and off to tell you what he had for Boxing Day dinner at the folks' house and other such important facts. Repeated listenings to the disc proves the fact that the more mundane an object is, the more fascinating it becomes. So when I found out that another solo thing of Bohmans' had just come out on the Paradigm label (a racket owned and operated by fellow Morphogenesis member Clive Graham) entitled 'Bunhill Row', I snapped the sucker up real quick like at a local spooge shack and ran like hell back home to bust out the sweet green and lissen to it. When I got home and started to check out the cover, I gots alittle confused. The amount of song titles on the back rivaled the first D.R.I. LP or any Inca Eyeball release for that matter. Nothing went over the three minute mark. Something was fishy. Are these....like...ACTUAL SONGS?!?! Turns out the LP is a collection of bedroom recordings done by Bohman in the early 80's when everybodys' head in London was fulla demented homespun dreams. The gush of short, playful and downright juvenile improvised songs this LP shoots off is a real groin scratcher. Is this really a member of Morphogenesis? Not to stereotype, but I'd figure a member of this band in his late teens/early twenties would be practicing puffing on a pipe and saying 'Rather', not creating skewed pop tunes about old women and their vibrator collections. If you're a sucker for anything British, primitive and catchy, you need this like a Israeli rock star needs a cigarette in the eye and a good shove. If this came out at the time it was recorded, you know Chuck Warner would be re-issuing it and some hipster doofus would be trotting Adam around NYC introducing him like he was his new pornstar girlfriend. For now, it sits in the distinguished company of other forgotten artists re-discovered by Paradigm, like Brast Burn and Daphne Oram, which ain't no nothin' to sneeze at. Done up in a numbered edition of 500 and the whole bit...go grab it before those Paradigm snewts find out some Cro-Mags fan told you about it...

http://www.fusetronsound.com/label.php?whomart=BOHMAN,ADAM

WHAT'S ITALIAN FOR 'DUH'?
I know to all the youngsters who still scour the pages of Maximum Rock 'N' Roll, Italy's Out With A Bang are old, old hat. So all you P.Y.T.s' out there can go back to downloading Swedish Hardcore demos and Swedish Hardcore Porn while I provide my service here to those (kinda) oldsters who are in a rut with their record buying and need some numbskull Punk Rock in their lives. I mean, you know more noise records are just gonna make you feel crappier about your lot in life. Are you buying these records for further listening pleasure or just to have a bunch of squares to line your shelves so's you can keep up with the jerk off Joneses? You could start really getting into collecting Black Metal I guess, but if you're gonna do that, why not just move to Williamsburg and buy a poodle? Don't get me started on all the cookie cutter floppy hatted juanny-come-latelys on the new weird circuit. I am a firm believer that the world will not return to being a garden of light until Vetiver die a slow, painful death right in front of my eyes. So I say the only way to get out of this rut on both a personal and spiritual level is to buy more records with song titles such as 'Do What My Cock Says' and 'Hurt Yourself'. Only then will you feel better about yourself and the world around you.

So, Out With A Bang released this one sided 12" on their own last year entitled 'I'm Against It' that set the Punker underground on it's ear with a ton of buzz. By the time I caught wind of it (wudda stench) the thing was long gone, snapped up by the whipper snappers on their skateboards and unicycles. Good for me that those repellent little bastards at the Fashionable Idiots label out there in Minnesota did up a domestic re-do of the thing, this time on a two sided seven inch. The grainy ass picture on the lyric sheet of this thing makes these guys look like Killroy ('member them?) or Circle of Shit, a real bunch of dirtbags full of leather, bristles, studs and booze. But their jams ain't real limey influenced at all. As I spin the disc more and more, all I can think of is a looser limbed Adolescents recorded in a friggin' toilet, which is a pretty sweet thought I think you'll agree. I know my rather lazy description of this disc doesn't really make it sound anymore unique than a million other Punker records out there, but it really holds something special in it's determined retardation. Since I've gotten hold of it, I have a spring in my step and a flutter in my heart. Turns out I just caught that peanut butter salmonella...

O.W.A.B. are coming to America in a few months, so go crush up your sisters' diet pills into a snortable form for them NOW. Go to the Fashionable Idiots website and mark the days until they come to your town. I guess you should order the seven inch while you're there too. I mean...if you wanna...

http://www.fashionableidiots.com/

BLITZ BUMMER ...Sorta ironic that my last post had some veiled reference to a Blitz lyric, as I have just found out that Nidge, founder of said band has recently passed. Turns out he was taking some scab laden line-up of his band across the U.S. when he was struck by a vehicle somewhere in Texas and died instantly. The fact the guy was hauling around America in the late '00's is strange enough. For his life to end on some barren strip of highway so far from his home is even stranger. He most likely was wearing some sorta lame ass Punk get-up when he died too. It's something straight out of 'Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains'. All they would of needed was The Magik Markers as their opening band and it would be perfect. Nonetheless, I know the dude's passing might mean nothing to your smarty pants self. To be honest, it really doesn't mean that much to me, except that the dude's music set me on fire as a kid. Still does. All I have to hear is those opening rings of 'Someones' Gonna Die' and that's it. It's on. I know, not as cool as saying some obscure Pysch jam inspired me to be a total asshole, but I'm tryin'...I really am.

THE RECORD IS STILL BROKEN AND I STILL DON'T CARE (JUST LIKE THE KIDS ON THE STREET) Above -- Me showin' off my new tat. Wait'll ya see my Skullhead back piece. You'll shit five ways 'til Sunday!


Alotta the bigwigs out there in the chronic cocktail party they call 'the scene' keep axin' me 'Where's the updates? Where's the info? What's your opinion on the latest vacuum cleaner noises put onto a disc so's some grown man or woman doesn't have to go out and get a real job?' Believe it or not, I try to be diplomatic with these gentle souls when I tell them (in the nicest way possible) I could really give a shit about most of the crap they ask me about. At this point in the game, I feel no need to listen to anything that's going on in this cock licking competition for people who (I guess) missed out on being popular in High School. It all makes me ill. We all know you liked Indie Rock in High School, so please remove that brand new obscure early 80's Foreign HC shirt at once. Where did you buy that shit? Hot Topic? You are aware you're an adult, right? Jeeze. It all reminds me of that Lester Bangs quote from the year before he died that went something like 'Wanting to listen to Hank Williams or The Velvet Underground over The Go-Go's or Squeeze isn't a matter of nostalgia for me, it's just a matter of good taste'. I hear the man on that one. Why the fuck would I want to familarize myself with the latest hollow whack-off from Matthew Bower or John Olson when I could listen to The Byrds or Cressida or Grand Funk or (even better) complete utter silence. Besides the hordes who try to be something that they're not, the other thing that really makes me sick are older people who say it's 'important' to 'keep up' with what's going on. They sniff around whatever The Wire deems 'relevent' and ask what DubStep twelves are 'essential'. It's like fucking corpses fighting off the maggots. They think if they actually sit back and enjoy something for a moment that they'll fade away into the wallpaper of life. Shit man...that's what I dream for! When I'm 50 years old, the last thing I want to be doing is hanging out with the 2023 equivilent of Lambsbread or Loefah or whatever. I hope I have enough sense by then to be either retired or dead. Here's to hopin'...

BITTER OLD MAN PLAYLIST

Step Forward - '10 Song e.p' 7" (Painkiller)
Homostupids - 'The Intern LP' CD (Parts Unknown)
Al Stewart - 'Orange' lp (CBS)
Richard Lerman - 'Music of Richard Lerman 1964-97 ' 2 CD (EM)
Tony Hazzard - 'Tony Hazzard Sings Tony Hazzard' CD (Rev-Ola)
Eric Matthews - 'It's Heavy In Here' CD (Sub Pop)
Catherine Howe - 'What a Beautiful Place' CD (Numero Group)
The Ray Pacino Ensemble - 'Be My Lonely Night' tape (LalLalLal)
Bob Dylan - 'Modern Times' CD (CBS)
Dry Rot - 'Permission' 7" (Cold Vomit)

CRUCIAL CACOPHONY AT THE CRUCIAL CAKE SHOP COCKSUCKER! TOMMOROW @ CAKE SHOP 152 LUDLOW ON THE LOWER EAST SIDE IN NYC AT 8PM FOR 7 DOLLARS...MAGIK MARKERS/HOMOSTUPIDS/BLUES CONTROL/RICHARD AND JON (Or as I like to call them 'EXCITINGS!' get it?) PLUS DJ SETS FROM BRIAN TURNER AND TONYA RIOTMAN. SHAVE OFF YOUR BEARD, GRAB YOUR GENNIES AND MOSH!!

GET YOUR KAFTAN, BITCH...WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE...
Awhile back there in the '01, I went on about the Babe in the pages of Fuzzola's Blastitude in a painfully sucky manner. There were some facts and words, but that's about it. I don't really think I nailed down how much this early 70's UK bands' music means to me, especially their second and final record, 'A Jug Of Love'. Their self titled debut from '69 was an amazing blend of California dreaming and English mysticism, a totally essential listen for anyone who enjoys lit windows and brown shag carpeting. Their second record from '71 pretty much saw them chuck all the limey vibes out the french windows and go full bore ahead with their interpetation of the American dream. The whole thing that continiously lures me back to records cut by these English bands from the early 70's is how well they beat the American pioneers of this music in mish-mashing styles. Quicksilver, The Band, The Byrds and Poco were all the same to them in some polarized vision, so out spat some truly mesmerizing and strange records. There's equal measures worship of both Richard Manuel (Just listen to 'Virgin Spring' for dick's sake) and the faux dirt cowboys from the hills. Why MB guitarist Martin Stone (also having served time in Savoy Brown, The Pink Fairies, Chilli Willi and The Red Hot Peppers, etc.) doesn't have a bronze statue in my living room, I really don't know. Anywhos, the people at the Sunbeam label did up a real nice thick vinyl re-ish of 'Jug of Love'. Go buy a garbage bag full of oregano and enjoy this disc in a proper fashion. http://www.forcedexposure.com/artists/mighty.baby.html

MACRONYMPHA CAN SUCK IT!

Not one douchebag in a brand new Negative Approach shirt in sight...perfect. I wish I had a time machine to take every No Fun attendee who thinks seeing a bunch of guys dry hump one another and throw garbage cans around is a 'radical' statement and dump them off at CB's in '88. Oh what fun that would be! Communale sighting in this video noted and accounted for..

THE BOSS JIM GETTYS ARE DEAD...LONG LIVE THE PLUM STREET SPOT... What kinda 'authority' am I to talk about all these new and exciting true-to-life disorienting sounds the kids are kickin' out these days? I sit here in this dustbin of an apartment jamming 'Bella Donna' and Soulside's 'Trigger' 12" over and over again while so many with holes in both their souls and pockets mull over this stuff and spit out their opinion like so much onion dip. They usually end their opinion with 'Limited to 50...act today!' but who cares? I guess if the sounds is potent, they potent...no matter how many are made. But if I know anything, I know that when I was a young beardo dwelling the streets of New Brunswick, New Jersey in the early 90's, the place was a serious cultural wasteland. Still feeling the blowback of being such a hip city in the late 80's, the burg was a fuckin' pit of despair. Tons of horrid Stooges copyists still thinking Bruce Pavitt was gonna roll through town with a time machine and a contract to make a jillion albums while giving an advance of Swallow twelves. It truly sucked. Me and some of my bros tried to stir some shit, but we were looked at like pointless card tricks. I remember trying to convince some indie rock douchebag he should book NNCK (circa '96) in this loft space he had. He treated me like total dogshit and then proceeded to play me tape after tape of his crappy space rock band being produced by one of the guys from Tortoise. Bummer city, U.S.A population me...

So now there's this total happenin' noise/psych shit rock scene going on there and I gotta admit I'm abit jealous. How come all these kids in their homemade costumes get to have so much fun in that town in this post-Wolf Eyes blowin' up world? But shit man, I'm happy for 'em...even ecstatic you can say. They got a happenin' party palace there on the same street I used to live on and some decent touring bands always stop there. And some of these units they got goin' on there are pretty hapennin' as well. USA Gold Exchange seem to fill their 'large ensemble' quota, jamming out quiet, creepy jams for those of us who still hold their copy of 'In Public and Private' close to their crotch. 2673 has been on the scene for awhile but he still don't get the recognition he deserves. Maybe if he donned some heavy eye make-up and wore communion dresses people would care...I don't know. I haven't really heard any of those King Darves jams yet, but I'd like to. Human Adult Band I've actually hoid and it's some damn good sludgy shit rock shit with some obnoxious ass wiggling to spare. But the whole stupid reason I started this spiel, was to talk about this new 7" entitled 'Jar' by New Brunswicks' Car Commercials. Car Commercials includes a dude named Dave whose done stuff under the name Ladderwoe and has a finger (heh-heh) in the fore mentioned USA Gold Exchange. It also includes that dashing lil furball Daniel DiMaggio, who you might know from his Home Blitz fame. The two dudes do up some real demented jams on this slab. Tape recorders get shut on and off, sped up...slowed down and then they bust into some rockin' and then some close-talkin' microphone action. You like the Prats?early Shadow Ring? Do you get joy outta knowing there's kids half you age that are as fucked up as you? Then, mister...jump on this today! Limited to....ahh...y'all HAD to see that one comin'. But seriously, get with these jokers and get a copy of this single. It's a dingaling up the shnozola, lemme tell you...Dave in CC does the Leaf Leaf label and here's their MySpace page where you get hooked up with a corn-a-coppola of stuff from the home of The Golden Rail...here's the linkage

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendID=28758210

Other than that, I really dig this compilation that was just dropped on the Non-Commercial label entitled 'Battle of The Worst Bands'. If I may spew one of my usual stand-bys...In the early to mid 90's, I was an ex-Hardcore kid smoking weed and seein' how many records on the United Artists label (circa '72) I could find (I still need that Halfbreed record...anyone holdin'...drop me a line) The idea of abuncha dudes in Cleveland making up 'joke' Hardcore bands at that time and putting out singles of them in minute editions would of amused me, but I surely wouldn't of listened to them. But now I'm old and angrier than I ever was at 16 (How'd that happen?) and those dudes were cool enough to put them all on one LP in the present day and I'm lovin' it. Cider and The Darvocets I've heard of before and they make up the first side of this thing. The Cider stuff (Originally released as the 'Out To Get Me' 7" in 1994) has got a brash UK Hardcore sound that would most likely scare the bejesus outta every hipster doofus who creamed their expensive 'vintage' jeans to the lame sounds of No Fucker a few weeks ago @ The Glass Lands. Their cover of NA's 'Last Warning' is an 'interpetation' at best, but that's whats so marvy about it. The Darvocets are like a thrash version of The Rezillos, complete with lyrics about spacemen and shit like that. I still got a lump in my pants for both Faye Fife and her goofy tunes, so you know I was down with that. Apparently they are actually playing this weekend here in Brooklyn, but I gotta babysit a copy machine that night, so I'm screwed. The second side has gotta single released by The Ruiners in '99 entitled 'Blank Your Life' which has gotta cool early Boston vibe to it but the winners of this battle of the worst bands has got to be the closers of the record, Brainwashed Youth. Apparently holding a member of Integrity (?!?) this is most likely the stupidest thing I've heard in awhile and I am ever so happy to hear it. With horrible phony British accents and inept musical ability, these guys make the Maniax sound like King Crimson. I almost crapped my pants listening to these guys....who am I foolin' with that 'almost' part? Ha! These suckahs were done up super limited (here we go again...) so jump on this like a Gia Paloma blow-up doll. Here you go...http://www.noncommercialrecords.com/

'Til then...'come in out of the darkness...'

MY TOP TEN OF 2006 INCLUDES BOTH ME AND YOU DEAD... PLEASE FILL IN THE OTHER EIGHT SLOTS YOURSELF... Above -- Yet another shot from the 200LBU Holidaze party. Ricky belts out a heart wilting rendition of 'Too Deep Until Now' by Chain of Strength via karoke.

For those who care about that sort of thing, my fave crap of '06 can be found over at the FMU and Ecstatic Peace sites. I'll put links to it at the bottom of the post. Dig on it you sexy things, you. Since this was such a bonny year for music, there was a few things I totally forgot about when I scrawled down these pointless lists in an indecipherable scrawl (Praise be to Saint Laughner) Colossal Yes was played so many friggin' times around the Classon castle that it was sorta forgotten when it came time to make these lists. It's crawled into the walls like a cute dead squirrel whose stink smells like a scented candle from the classiest painted wagon in the nicest mall in New Jersey. I gotta copy of 'Tumbleweed Connection' hidden in my ascot and I'm not afriad to show it. Neither does Mr. Yes. I wanna hear more of these jams, but I want them to sound like Glyn Johns produced the fucker, not some hack from the early nineties. Shit...did I say that out loud? Gotta stop doing that...should make that a resolution for the new year ahead or whatever...

And another I forgot to list was Boxcutter's 'Oneiric' jam on Planet Mu. Mr. Barry Lynn made (to me) the only sit-throughable electronic groove full length of the year. As much as I love all these cwazy 12" singles I've accumulated throughout the year (Big up to Chamberweed and Dr. Don Cream for hipping me to alot of them) I gotta say when these Dubstep/Whatever cats shoot out a full length of the shit, I'm bored within the first fifteen minutes or so. It's not their fault though. Much like early Hardcore, the stuff's only good in short spurts when you're rockin' it at home. When you're out and about and within a crowd, it's a total different story. Or that could just be me. But I've spun this 'Oneiric' thing more than a few times and it still sends ice cold razor blades up my spine. Dig your nails into the ass of 'Sunshine VIP' and FEEL IT. Yup...she's a keeper...

Brooklyn B-Boys Blues Control don't need no nod and wink from yours twooly, but what the fuck? Let's do it anyways...All their cassettes jams (esp. the one on Fuck It) were sheer grace. Like watching Mike Post jam out in a Parisian cave. Can't wait to see what happens on the real deal full lengths coming out on Holy Mountain and Woodsist. Dig in and let's see what the Red and the Black has for us in the ought seven...


Like I stated in the post prior to this one, this is the first year in my life where I've ever felt conciously bitter and bored with music, even though there's been so much that's sent my heart a twitter. From Home Blitz to Violent Students to the re-issue of Jackie Mittoo's 'Wishbone' to all that output on Hot Flush and DMZ. Fucked Up sent my mind into too many inner debates regarding the idea of song as a celebration of oppression or spirtual arrival. But then the idea of abuncha maries slapping each other with their purses to 'Negative Approach' creeps into my head and I wanna move to a cave with nothing but a copy of 'Younger Than Yesterday'. I guess all I gotta do is never leave the house in '07 and have all my records and information delivered to me by small Peruvian boys and I'll be AOK. Anyone know any small Peruvian boys???

http://blog.wfmu.org/freeform/2006/12/tony_rettmans_t.html#more

http://www.ecstaticpeace.com/2006poll.php

Oh yeah, go over and look at this kids' deal...I like his steeze...

http://atwarwithmetal.blogspot.com/

And take a look at this friggin' rapist...

http://www.flickr.com/photos/sixorgans/331158526/

MERRY NEW YEARS EVERYBODY!

SHIT FROM A NEW YEARS NOTEBOOK -- AKA -- A FOOT WITH A MATCHING BULLET Above -- Group shot from the 200LBU Holidaze partee -- BACK ROW --(From left to right --Annonymous member of Satanic Witchery, Annonymous staff member of Dusted, Meadowlark Lemon, Devandra Banhart and annoymous 'guest' of Mr. Banhart FRONT ROW -- (From left to right -- Jimmy Pursey, 200LBU editor-in-chief Coach Smothers and 200LBU co-editor Tonya Loiterminn.

For some godforsaken reason, I’ve taken to ingesting the extract of watermelon seeds every few nights this week. While under the influence of that sweet, sweet shit, I‘ve taken notes in a ‘year end‘ fashion. It’s all a buncha hooey. A blur of Crisco and Rolex and all that kinda stuff. Take from it what you can…


Call off your dogs, I got nothing to tell you. Nothing more than what I’ve ever told you in a million other ways, being the whore that I am. New noisy punk dudes, kids in warm-up suits around South London, moldy favorites found under the bed…it’s all still news to me. Seems strange the first year I’ve actually felt bitter and bored with music is the same year I’m so blown away by most of what I hear. Let’s just say crowds give me gas and if you ever want to just come over and jam records, I’m down. It’s gotta be better than watching a thousand shlongs wag in motion, licking each other to the beat of acceptance.

I think Dolman said it a month or so back, but 2006 was certainly the return of the weird, cool idea of actually pressing up a few hundred singles of yourself and selling them. Sounds kewky , don’t it? There was the Home Blitz shit, The Jacks, Homostupids, Armas Huutamo, Velveeta Heartbreak, Sex Vid, the Religious Knives one, the list literally goes on and on. Some of them were great initially, until their veneer of intrigue was wiped away when you learned the artist posted on a message board twenty times a day and had a webcam. Mystery has been replaced with an unneeded knowledge of everything it seems. Not to sound like a blue hair with a cane underneath my armpit, but think about if The Misfits, Throbbing Gristle or Combat Stance Fanzine had the interweb in the day and time they existed. Would it have worked? Could they maintain that much of an image while telling you every time they took a crap? I’m sure brighter people than I have debated this issue, figured out the problem and then both ate and scored with Bernadette Peters and Shirley McClaine. Good for them. For now I beat on a rock and rock the seven inch jams of the year. Ain’t gonna make a list though…didn’t I already sorta do that up there? Leave that shit to the others. All I gotta say is these singles gave me a good amount of exercise running to and fro the turntable and that’ll add a year onto my life. Fucking great…


Jack off with pride in the year 2007 if you scored a copy of ‘For Sada Jane’. I’ve been watching the clock for awhile now and the arms keep moving real fast. I keep the thought of movement constantly in my mind. Stumbling is movement. Falling flat on your face is movement. Pushing the two actions together and holding them together with spit and chewing gum and keeping them intact is the job of the Markers. Anyone who has been watching for this whole time will tell you this is where the wormhole has been leading. ‘Shabbetai Tzevi/1666’ is a stoned gem that burns. Up and over, over and out…give me the time and I’ll tell you everything I heard from a twelve year old last week.

I THINK THE SOLE REASON COMPUTERS WERE INVENTED WAS SO WE COULD ALL WATCH THIS 1ST VIDEO...OH YEAH, THE REST OF 'EM ARE GOOD TOO...