Oh the days are rolling into weeks. Who knew? How could that happen? I guess when you start counting cigarettes & bottles & tapes you end up with a piece of time, as Atheist would say. But in the meantime, I've been letting nuevo cherse tunes slip out the door unnoticed. NO MORE. So here we go. A little new, a little older, and I'll call it adieu.
Los Llamarada - The Very Next Moment 7"
Back in the day when I had guests, I played the The Exploding Now, then take a walk around the block. Let them get acquainted. More often than not, I'd return to patches of blood, the needle riding the label like a worn out mechanical bull. Jesus, what a record. Licks the gel out of your hair and spits a rat poison tapenade in your pasty visage. How does Scott Soriano still have 25 copies left? What are y'all up to? Nice sleeve, good slice of ivory wax...you can't feel empeethrees, even with your fancy Audio Research studio-cooled speakers. You can't invite the heathens over on IM! Let'em in the front door! Write the check! You smart-marks can cash it, trust.
Or, in the meantime, you can pick up this, their latest missive. The title cut sticks their rumbly Ut and Mars thang between thick gooey slices of A-Frames stomploaf. Lovely synth peppering, too. Someone tell the dudes at Mutant Sounds! Cheveu fans oughta open their hearts for this one. Although, I should add, they've either moved up to a studio or someone hooked them up with the dopest boombox this side of a JVC in 85 because this don't sound like their usual Pixelvision fidelity. Don't mind it a bit, though. That lil number's keeps me warm just thinking of the Monterrey sun warming their leaky basement. Nothing like Robocoppin' in a droptop on a humid night. But that's another yarn.
And the B-side is...wow. Brenda Lee's "I'm Sorry" always seemed like the kind of shit someone shouts up to a 4th-story window in the wee-smalls with one hand on their sweaty heart and one on some E-dub--but never was before. Evil truckstop karaoke at it's finest. So annoying you'll never forgive again.
Live-r than most.
Blank Dogs - Diana (The Herald) 12"
I'm on the fence and it's not comfortable. I've been up there about Blank Dogs for ages. I can't decide if they're too revival.
Hang on, I'll unpack that. Okay, garage is kinda played out what with it always spooning from the same bowl, right? Every now and again someone dresses it anew, but few of us wait with baited breath for another Royal Trux--at least not realistically. Seems like that's on the verge of happening with some of the (warning: lingo migraine ahead) neo-DIY syphoners. Yeah the sources are still frosty enough for the young & fresh of my generation, but I'm left feeling a little under-fed by acts like Blank Dogs. They're either too indebted to their forefathers or spend too much time running with their brother's friends. Get out of the neighborhood for a minute, will you? I played this six or seven ways in a dozen settings and it never really felt rewarding. Not that it isn't perfectly fine music. It just feels a little like they Xeroxed a whole movement, blotting out some of the important bits. The interpretation is what's got me miffed. Maybe it's too soon to say this style is stale, but I've certainly had fresher bread. I say give the Fort Thunder gear a rest and dig a little deeper. And no, I don't mean into the crates.
Passable, but far from a squawk in the park.
NEXT TIME: I ESTABLISH THE SHIV OUTTA CADAVER IN DRAG! TAKE THAT, COPE!
Los Llamarada - The Very Next Moment 7"
Back in the day when I had guests, I played the The Exploding Now, then take a walk around the block. Let them get acquainted. More often than not, I'd return to patches of blood, the needle riding the label like a worn out mechanical bull. Jesus, what a record. Licks the gel out of your hair and spits a rat poison tapenade in your pasty visage. How does Scott Soriano still have 25 copies left? What are y'all up to? Nice sleeve, good slice of ivory wax...you can't feel empeethrees, even with your fancy Audio Research studio-cooled speakers. You can't invite the heathens over on IM! Let'em in the front door! Write the check! You smart-marks can cash it, trust.
Or, in the meantime, you can pick up this, their latest missive. The title cut sticks their rumbly Ut and Mars thang between thick gooey slices of A-Frames stomploaf. Lovely synth peppering, too. Someone tell the dudes at Mutant Sounds! Cheveu fans oughta open their hearts for this one. Although, I should add, they've either moved up to a studio or someone hooked them up with the dopest boombox this side of a JVC in 85 because this don't sound like their usual Pixelvision fidelity. Don't mind it a bit, though. That lil number's keeps me warm just thinking of the Monterrey sun warming their leaky basement. Nothing like Robocoppin' in a droptop on a humid night. But that's another yarn.
And the B-side is...wow. Brenda Lee's "I'm Sorry" always seemed like the kind of shit someone shouts up to a 4th-story window in the wee-smalls with one hand on their sweaty heart and one on some E-dub--but never was before. Evil truckstop karaoke at it's finest. So annoying you'll never forgive again.
Live-r than most.
Blank Dogs - Diana (The Herald) 12"
I'm on the fence and it's not comfortable. I've been up there about Blank Dogs for ages. I can't decide if they're too revival.
Hang on, I'll unpack that. Okay, garage is kinda played out what with it always spooning from the same bowl, right? Every now and again someone dresses it anew, but few of us wait with baited breath for another Royal Trux--at least not realistically. Seems like that's on the verge of happening with some of the (warning: lingo migraine ahead) neo-DIY syphoners. Yeah the sources are still frosty enough for the young & fresh of my generation, but I'm left feeling a little under-fed by acts like Blank Dogs. They're either too indebted to their forefathers or spend too much time running with their brother's friends. Get out of the neighborhood for a minute, will you? I played this six or seven ways in a dozen settings and it never really felt rewarding. Not that it isn't perfectly fine music. It just feels a little like they Xeroxed a whole movement, blotting out some of the important bits. The interpretation is what's got me miffed. Maybe it's too soon to say this style is stale, but I've certainly had fresher bread. I say give the Fort Thunder gear a rest and dig a little deeper. And no, I don't mean into the crates.
Passable, but far from a squawk in the park.
NEXT TIME: I ESTABLISH THE SHIV OUTTA CADAVER IN DRAG! TAKE THAT, COPE!
1 comment:
thx for the RE-viewwwws! You should live in say, Chicago so you could see CID on say, October 27, as opposed to...never. Glad you're back.
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