steven "jesse" bernstein


Steven \”Jesse\” Bernstein: December 4, 1950 – October 22, 1991.

L.A. born homeboy and Seattle resident, Steven Jesse Bernstein, was a poet who literally put his skin on the line and turned an anglepoise torch on his eviscerated soul. There was nothing heroic in his demise, but a good deal to be admired in his tenacity to hold onto life so long. Unlike Charles Bukowski, there was no happy financial pay-off to ultimately facilitate social rehabilitation. His self disgust was tangibly carniverous, and therein lies the rub. No reluctantly resigned self-depracating black streak of humour to enlighten Monday morning\’s hungover slumber.

The rip of the following tracks I originally \”found\” on the now defunct Post-Punk Junk. Bret now curates a spot on Egg City Radio.

Prior to stumbling on it, I had \”Prison\” – appropriately released on April Fool\’s Day – on a disintegrating C-90 cassette ; a gift from a friend. A pirated confession, crumbling into premature decrepitude with much audio infedelity. And prior to its CD reissue it really mattered little that it was falling apart.

Painful, but essential listening, and harrowingly funny too – compare the laugh on \”Face\” to Wilson Simonal\’s from a couple of posts back to have Robert Crumb\’s snoid well and truly hammered home. Go on, break your face. See the hands on your analogue watch jump like sticks.

I tried like a motherf*@!er to get Kelsey Grammer to sign off this post with a hearty \”Good night, Seattle!\” but fortunately for everybody he was otherwise engaged. STEVEN JESSE BERNSTEIN: NO NO MAN (PART I) from \”Prison\” CD (Sub Pop) 1992 (US) STEVEN JESSE BERNSTEIN: FACE from \”Prison\” CD (Sub Pop) 1992 (US)



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Hello. I am still breathing, if you wondered at this latest absence. I needed to step back from the drop awhile, the empty space between the rails, to let the game play out. It has not been pretty for