skirting boards and death watch beetles

"dynastidae". photograph by insect lab.

Continuing in the insect vein, briefly. Howard Devoto, of course, was originally Pete Shelley's partner in crime in the Buzzcocks for the blink of an eye - on their self-financed "Spiral Scratch" debut EP - before parting company to launch (or empty) a fully loaded Magazine on an unsuspecting public.

As a consequence of my abiding resistance to wall to wall carpeting, I have always viewed this particular song with some affection. In production terms it has dated less favourably, perhaps, than more durable shadowy moments from their excellent second LP, "Second Hand Daylight" - featuring "Rhythm Of Cruelty"; "Back To Nature"; and "You Never Knew Me", to name but three - or album #1, "Real Life", which contained "The Light Pours Out Of Me", but from the very first this single had 'hit' stamped all over it.

Howard Devoto: vocals; John McGeoch: guitar; John Doyle: drums; Barry Adamson: bass; Dave Formula: keyboards. With additional backing vocals by Magazine and Laura Teresa.

Recorded in December, 1979 and released in February 1980 on 45rpm - VS 321 - this was produced by Martin Hannett.

▼ MAGAZINE: A SONG FROM UNDER THE FLOORBOARDS from "The Correct Use Of Soap" LP (Virgin) 1980 (UK)

PURCHASE THE CORRECT USE OF SOAP

fly in the ointment

HAR 5151.

Bridging the gap deftly between 1977's "Pink Flag" and their 1978 follow-up, "Chairs Missing", this is the sound of a breakfast hangover overspilling into the studio with unspeakable flair.

A lot of good art - like disease - is born in the kitchen, I firmly believe.

Colin Newman: vocals; Robert Gotobed: drums; Bruce Gilbert: guitar; Graham Lewis: bass.

Written by Colin Newman and Graham Lewis. Produced by long term collaborator, Mike Thorne.

image originally appeared on hasanalmasi.blogfa.com.

▼ WIRE: I AM THE FLY from "I Am The Fly b/w Ex Lion Tamer" 45 (Harvest EMI) 1978 (UK)

PURCHASE CHAIRS MISSING REMASTERED

le clef #2 (3.1)

The dripping tap sets my teeth on edge.

What a ridiculous turn of phrase. What I mean is, I have a headache and the sound of it is making it worse. I grind my teeth in between several long pulls on the cigarette and flip the butt in the direction of the sink as if it might extinguish the fucking noise.

Fire and water.

I have been drinking too much, too often these past few days, and on top of everything else I have a hangover. Again. I study the key forlornly and notice there is something scratched faintly into the plastic fob: 3.1.

It could mean almost anything or nothing.

3.1. If this were a big budget movie, at this juncture something or other would tumble into place and the camera would pan after me as I bolted for the open door. On the other hand, if I was some fancy A-List actor there would be no fucking movie. I would retire to some island somewhere in the middle of the ocean and drink myself to death with a smile on my face. Straight. Moonshine in the sunshine.

As it is, the numbers mean precious little.

I put the key in my trouser pocket and scratch my nose. It is a bad habit, but I have the itch. Nothing on top of nothing; zero upon zero. I look at my watch. It is already half past opening time, and I am late for my morning wake-up-call.

Key or no key, I have places to run to.

party, sex and bullshit

November 4 track release from the unsigned Vincent Jardin, aka Art Whiplash. Based in Paris.

▼ ART WHIPLASH: PARTY, SEX AND BULLSHIT (KIWI REMIX) from "Party, Sex And Bullshit" EP (Unsigned) 2008 (France)

ART WHIPLASH @ MYSPACE

the billy ghosts gruff

We are brittle. We are boned. First cut is the deepest.

You are invited.

ian begg: vocals; gus macdonald: guitar; fiona macdonald: bass; ken warner: guitar; jimmy johnstone: drums.

▼ GHOSTS: GOLDILOCKS from "The Lost Album" TEAC demos (Maryjane) 1992 (UK)

le clef

There is a single overhead bulb burning in the centre of the room. It looks to be 60 watts, maximum. Not too bright and sickly yellow.

It casts a shadow like a rug on the floorboards. The detritus. Something is taped to its underside, and when I get right under it and reach out both hands it burns my fingers.

The bulb has been burning for a long time.

The adhesive is melted to the glass and when I pull on it gently it almost wrenches the bulb out its socket. I have to ignore the burning and press my fingers firmly onto the hot glass to hold it in place.

It is a Yale key. Wadded inside the masking tape like a piece of spent gum.

I sit down on an upturned packing case and turn it this way and that.
It is nothing special. There is only one door leading into the room, and that is hanging from its hinges. There is nothing else in here which looks designed to hide a secret. A lot of crap and soggy cardboard.

I reach in my pockets and dig out a cigarette. I hesitate briefly before dropping the match, but everything is too damp to catch a flame. It smells of mildew and the elderly. Tumors and fungus. Water drips from a broken sink in the far corner.

I push the hair back out my face and examine the key. What a waste of fucking time.

I have not the faintest idea what it might unlock, and even if I did, what good would it do me ?

I hate puzzles.

It's like a dead battery on Christmas morning. A dog wagging its tail and running circles and a cupboard full of junk.

les hommes morts sont dangereux

The first release - a 45 - on Geoff Travis's independent Rough Trade label in December 1977 was not homegrown. He didn't look to London, and he didn't scour the seedy venues of northern districts and boroughs in a bid to fly the flag.

The first release on Rough Trade was Metal Urbain's "Paris Marquais b/w Clé de Contact", limited to a 10,000 pressing. RT 001. Even the song titles themselves proudly broadcast the group's European status and Rough Trade's intention straight from the off. This was no insular enterprise.

Metal Urbain had previously released a self-financed single in Spring of the same year; "Panik b/w Lady Coca Cola" on the French Cézame Cobra label (COB 47004). Limited on that occasion to a 5,000 print run, they were hardly moving into mainstream distribution in signing with Travis, but they were at least travelling in the right direction. Faith was the overriding principle at play. Faith sealed the deal.

"Paris Marquais" was their first and last 45rpm outing on Rough Trade.

Metal Urbain called it a day in late 1979.

A retrospective album, including updated remixes of their British single, appeared on the Celluloïd label in January, 1981. Rough Trade released the LP with a different track sequence and minor mastering alterations in the UK.

This excellent song is from that album. By this time, Clode Panik had retired from vocal duties, as had original guitarist, Rikky Darling.

Eric Debris: vocals; Hermann Schwartz: guitar; Pat Luger: guitar.

Produced by Tony Platt and Doug Bennett.

Dig, Lazarus, dig!

▼ METAL URBAIN: ULTRA VIOLENCE from "Les Hommes Morts Sont Dangereux" LP (Celluloïd / Rough Trade) 1981 (France)

PURCHASE LES HOMMES MORTS SONT DANGEREUX + BONUS TRACKS

1968: stoned is, into submission

detail from "snapshot of a slouch". graphic strip © ib, 1993.



Vanguard 6504.

I have Emmett from Art Decade to thank for originally bringing this song from 1968 - and this group - to my attention back in September, 2007. Emmett, in turn, caught it two years earlier on Ear Fuzz.

From Boston, Listening was a teenage band which in many respects served as a blueprint for Detroit's The Stooges. To my ears, at least. Since hearing this one track for the first time, I tracked down the LP, and while it is inarguably a cool slab of suburban psychedelic angst 'listened' to in its entirety, "Stoned Is" easily sets the bar throughout.

And it's not just that it rolls as much as rocks as a reinterpretation of the Kinks' "All Day & All Of The Night" - as Emmett rightly points out - which makes it so damn special. It not only very nearly succeeds in out-punking Iggy and The Stooges Elektra debut, but if I were a betting man I would comfortably wager that Malcolm McLaren had a copy of this stashed behind the counter of SEX. Right next to that pile of older Monkees and Small Faces 45's.

And if its cover were shown to be a little scorched and showing signs of Rizla wear and tear, well... I would not be at all surprised.

It's hearing shit as unexpectedly stunning as this every once in a blue moon that goes and makes my day.

Ernie Kamanis: drms, vocals; Peter Malik: guitar; Walter Powers: bass; Michael Tschudin: organ, keyboards, vocals.

Interestingly, too, bass player, Walter Powers previously played with Willie "Loco" Alexander in Boston garage punk ensemble, The Lost, before meeting up with him again further down the road in the last known line-up of The Velvet Underground.

Beat that for genuine pedigree.

The album was subsequently reissued on CD through Akarma (AK 050), but is sadly now out of print as far as I am aware.

Oh, and the fifteen year old artwork I looked out after shooting the shit with Jon from Poetry Is For Assholes about the dark underbelly of Santa Cruz, and the blackest lines which dissect the geography of serial intent.

WZJN ? Anything to add ?

▼ LISTENING: STONED IS from "Listening" LP (Vanguard) 1968 (US)

▼ SEX PISTOLS: SUBMISSION from "Never Mind The Bollocks Here's The Sex Pistols" LP (Virgin) 1977 (UK)

OUT OF PRINT
PURCHASE SEX BOX 1: SEX PISTOLS (3 x CD)

sorry: i'm tied up

"Some people think
little girls should be
seen and not heard,
but I think..."

- Poly Styrene (née Marion Elliot).

Get knotted ?

Poly Styrene: vocals; Lora Logic (Susan Whitby): saxophone; Paul Dean: bass; Jack Airport (Jack Stafford): guitar; B.P. Hurding: drums.

▼ X-RAY SPEX: OH BONDAGE UP YOURS! from "Oh Bondage Up Yours! b/w I Am A Cliché" 45 (VIRGIN) 1977 (UK)

PURCHASE GERM FREE ADOLESCENTS + BONUS TRACKS

separated at birth

dr. seuss's cat in the hat.



gilli smyth in contemplative mood. whispa cat in a sinister hat.

GILLI SMYTH OFFICIAL WEBSITE

VS 184: out to lunch

sex sans sid.



the full english. cherry vanilla smokes some pipe.

Written by Steve Jones; Glen Matlock; Paul Cook; Johnny Rotten. Recorded at Wessex Studios, London.

Produced by Chris Thomas and Bill Price.

F@ck me! Not only is our Glen sporting jumbo chords, he's also the spitting f@cking image of Alan Partridge. Sadly, too, my own dodgy 'do hasn't changed much either. Now. Just keep suckin'.

michael footnote #2:

Of course, it is impossible to think of this song outside the visual reference of the accompanying video footage featuring Sid, but his contribution to the tumbling wall of sound was, from all accounts, practically nil. According to Glen Matlock, the riff was originally inspired by listening to Abba's "S.O.S." played over a transistor radio in Malcolm McLaren's shop on the Kings Road.


▼ SEX PISTOLS: PRETTY VACANT from "Pretty Vacant b/w No Fun" 45 (Virgin) 1977 (UK)

PURCHASE SEX BOX 1: SEX PISTOLS (3 x CD)

burma-shave

"IN 1926 THE BURMA-VITA COMPANY, WHCH WAS LOCATED AT 2318 CHESTNUT AVENUE WEST IN MINNEAPOLIS, BEGAN TO PLACE SIGNS ON RURAL ROADSWAYS IN MINNESOTA WITH CATCHY SLOGANS TO SELL BURMA-SHAVE, A SHAVING CREAM."



Courtesy of The Bancroft Library. University of California, Berkeley.

"Take Down Notice" ? There is always somebody far worse off.

"Burma has jailed a blogger for 20 years and handed down even longer sentences to other activists who criticised the regime."

- sub-headline, The Daily Telegraph, Thomas Bell.

I only heard this news today, so forgive me for reiterating bad shit already in circulation.

▼ BUTTHOLE SURFERS: THE WEIRD REVOLUTION from "Weird Revolution" CD (Hollywood) 2001 (US)

PURCHASE WEIRD REVOLUTION (ENHANCED)
BUTTHOLE SURFERS.COM

straight edge

He turned and looked straight down the road. There was a broken picket fence - not white, but every colour in between that and nothing, layers of flaking paint - and he impatiently shook out a cigarette and fumbled to locate his lighter.

His eyes were green and blue and black, and he seemed half dead.

"None of it is linear," he said. "It's not a case of picking up on what you've learned and proceeding uninterrupted from 'a' to 'b'."

He sucked in and blew out and I followed his finger to all those broken gaps. Loose bridges in a contrived attempt to play straight and upright. Haunted jazz and unstrung piano keys.

"Fuck that. Everything swims in and out, and the unlucky ones drown in low ebb."

He was actually smiling. But his teeth kept getting lost in his lips.

"Some of them have lost the will to feed. The rest just never learned."

The hollow points in his eyeballs appeared touched by lunacy. But everything else seemed all there.

photograph from zowada custom razors.

'Cause I'm chokin' for the excuse:

▼ FLAMIN' GROOVIES: SLOW DEATH from "Grease" EP (Skydog) 1972 (US)

PURCHASE SOME GROOVIES

the cat in a hat

the cat in a hat. the days before yusuf islam.

" I Love My Dog" on 45rpm, launched the Deram label - a subsidiary of Decca - to the British public in 1966, peaking at #27 on the Hit Parade. "Matthew & Son", Cat's second single release, would make #2.

Produced by Mike Hurst. Released December 21st, 1966.

▼ CAT STEVENS: MATTHEW & SON from "Matthew & Son" LP (Deram) 1966 (UK)

▼ YUSUF ISLAM: CALL TO PRAYER (ADHAN)* from "The Life Of The Last Prophet" CD (Resurgence) 1995 (?)

* I have included this belatedly, since Friday is more apt for the subject of Islamic prayer. "Yusuf Islam was born Cat Stevens in London in 1948, son of a Swedish mother and Greek Cypriot father. He embraced Islam in 1977 and chose the name Yusuf Islam." There you have it. Time to break out the Jack D. and risk 'fatwah'.

PURCHASE MATTHEW & SON

percy the park keeper

"percy" by eliot.

This was my son's interpretation of "Percy the Park Keeper", aged five, in his first year at school. I had to take it down off my wall to scan it.

Here, Percy resembles a park keeper just as they ought to be. More fittingly than any I have ever seen, certainly. Even on an autumn trip into what passes as the woods.

Getting in the seasonal employ of the city's "Parks & Recreation" is a much sought after gig. During the summer months, especially.

"Gnarly" is our word for ce jour.

Daevid Allen: guitar, vocals; Francis Bacon: VCS3 synth, electric & upright pianos, bass; Tim Blake: VCS3 synth, crystal machine, vocals; Steve Hillage: guitars; Rachid Houari: drumbox; Didier Malherbe: soprano & tenor saxes, flute; Gilli Smyth: orgone box, vocals, space whispers; Christian Titsch: slide guitar.

Produced by Georgio Gomelsky; Brian Auger; and Magma. Epic.

Hellos to Emmett, and Mick from Raiding The Vinyl Archive.

▼ GONG: ZERO THE HERO AND THE WITCH'S SPELL from "Flying Teapot Vol. I: Radio Gnome Invisible" LP (Virgin) 1973 (UK)

PURCHASE FLYING TEAPOT: RADIO GNOME INVISIBLE

johnny was: 'the butcher boy'

photograph by henning christoph.

ROUGH 1.

Produced by Geoff Travis & Mayo Thompson. Written by Bob Marley.
Or was it the ghost of Jacob ? Rattling chains ?

Released in the bitter cold of February, 1979.

Ali McMordie: bass; Brian Faloon: drums; Jake Burns: guitar, vocals; Henry Cluney: rhythm guitar.

▼ STIFF LITTLE FINGERS: JOHNNY WAS from "Inflammable Material" LP (Rough Trade) 1979 (Northern Ireland)

PURCHASE INFLAMMABLE MATERIAL
PATRICK McCABE: "THE BUTCHER BOY"

angels' wings are icing over

"'Cause he's always living back in Dixon -
circa 1949 -
And we're all sitting at the fountain,
at the five and dime.
'Cause he's living in some B-movie
The lines they are so clearly drawn.
In black and white life is so easy
And we're all coming along on this one.

'Cause he's on a secret mission,
Headquarters just radioed in,
He left his baby at the dancehall
While the band plays on some sweet song.
And on a mission over China
The lady opens up her arms -
The flowers bloom where you haved placed them
And the lady smiles, just like mom.

Angels' wings are icing over
McDonnell-Douglas olive drab,
They bear the names of our sweethearts,
And the captain smiles, as we crash.
'Cause in the mind of Ronald Reagan
Wheels they turn and gears they grind,
Buildings collapse in slow motion
And trains collide, everything is fine..."

David Lowery: rhythm guitar, vocals; Victor Krummenacher: bass;
Greg Lisher: guitar; Chris Pedersen: drums.

A small town taste of California Redlands' Camper Van Beethoven prior to their demise in 1990; and their only album not to feature founding member, Jonathan Segel.

Written by Camper Van Beethoven. Produced by Dennis Herring.

"Don't take the third step, that's just the sad lovers' waltz."

▼ CAMPER VAN BEETHOVEN: SWEETHEARTS from "Key Lime Pie" LP (Virgin) 1989 (US)

PURCHASE A SLICE OF KEY LIME PIE
MORE CVB: "ANOTHER SUCKY NIGHT" @ POETRY IS FOR ASSHOLES

and the lights all went down

"north end alley", boston, massachusetts.
photograph by william albert allard.

The pictorial reference above is not quite Amherst, but at least we're in the general ball-park, geographically speaking.

Produced and written by J Mascis; drums by Murph; mellotron by Sean Slade. Engineered and mixed by Sean Slade and Paul Q. Kolderie.

After parting company with Sub Pop - and Lou Barlow - after just one single, "The Wagon", J Mascis was quick to release Dinosaur Jr's fourth long player; their first for a major label.

With Murph only sitting in on three tracks in the studio, "Green Mind" is essentially to be regarded as a solo project.



"Priscilla" (1969). Photograph by Joseph Szabo.

▼ DINOSAUR JR: THUMB from "Green Mind" LP (Blanco Y Negro / Sire) 1991 (US)

PURCHASE GREEN MIND (REMASTERED & EXPANDED)

earthman supersmell

breda high security prison.

This is something of a momentous occasion. After last week's post featuring a live version of "Sand" from 1993's "The Lid" EP, I finally managed to track down an out of print copy of Alabama Kids' magnificent second album, "Earthman Supersmell", released on the Schemer label - a subsidiary of Semaphore - in 1991.

Magnificent is not a word I use lightly. Of course, you are entitled to disagree. Some already have.

Not a lot of information is available on the Kids. From Eindhoven, they were touted as the Dutch Dinosaur Jr. and built their reputation on sprawling live performances attended by a small hardcore in and around the Netherlands in the early 90s. As a guitar band - think Neil Young snagging picks and overstepping licks with Peter Laughner; an uneasy alliance somewhere between Cleveland and the other side of Lake Michigan - the J Mascis comparisons are certainly valid, and to my ears Alabama Kids should have been truly huge.

'Stadium' rock played out in countless church halls connected by equally endless stretches of anonymous motorway; and not a stadium in sight.

Flatlands and Skunk. Crates of Amstel.

Throughout the brief period I lived in nearby Breda (birthplace of alleged murderer, Colonel Tom Parker) - within spitting distance of one of the world's first panopticon prisons - this LP was very much part of the soundtrack to a difficult period. Some close acquaintances lost their four year old son to meningitis during this time. And though I fully intended to purchase this LP as a reminder of both the good and bad, somehow I never quite got round to it.

It's taken me nearly sixteen years to get this back. And I'm glad to finally underline their name with a shaky fluorescent pen, at last.

Michel Boekhoudt: bass; Jacco Van Rooy: drums ; Rob Geerings, Stefan Vermeeren: guitar; Djie Han Thung: guitar, vocals.

Mixed by Pidah; recorded by Pieter Kloos.

All songs written by Alabama Kids. Shout-outs to Wim and Brushback.

▼ ALABAMA KIDS: CAN"T GET BACK NOW from "Earthman Supersmell" LP/CD (Schemer) 1991 (NL)

▼ ALABAMA KIDS: SAND from "Earthman Supersmell" LP/CD (Schemer) 1991 (NL)

OUT OF PRINT

duds

A short prison sentence:

"pick up your duds and proceed directly to your cell."

A shorter prison sentence (passed down from judge nathan ø):

"not guilty."

snake eyes

a short, factual tale in which nobody says anything but me.

It gets cold in these multi-storey flats. Twenty-two floors up, and this time of year you begin to see your breath steam. Obviously, it is not as cold as Newfoundland in a blizzard; I am not attempting to be macho. But we have no double glazing. The window frames all are rotten, and black with damp. And when the gales sweep up the Clyde valley from the Irish Sea - and the Atlantic beyond - the rain drives inside to collect on the sills even as the glass warps under the pressure.

It is high enough off the ground that the military occasionally sends in CH-47 Chinooks to engage in urban practice.

By this November juncture it is sufficiently cold to warrant dossing in a sleeping bag overnight. That is, seriously, no exaggeration. Under normal circumstances I do not employ curtains or blinds. We are high enough that nobody can see in; unless you are paranoid enough to be concerned by Google satellites. Still. It is only sensible to unfurl some canvas as one approaches those early wintry nights.

By 07:40 AM this morning just enough light crept in to encourage me to open one eye. Breakfast needed prepared. My son needed awakened in time for school.

I am genetically slow to rouse, but no slouch. I unzipped my nylon coccoon to hesitantly unfurl one leg and put my foot down on the bare floor. You are well enough versed in the sound a zipper makes under duress, I will surmise. Man against the elements in the wink of an eye.

Well. The heavy duty zipper - designed for bedding down outdoors - collided and tangled with soft, roll-necked flesh on the way down.

Indeed.

Semi-conscious, I envisaged the bulbous head of my cock flop onto the floor with a wet thud. I opened my mouth and screamed.

Calamity! Reaching down tentatively I discovered things were not quite so bad. I was merely snagged. Compromised, but not severely affected. Or afflicted. I have seldom felt so glad this time of morning.

I snaked out on a pale white limb and poured out some shredded wheat. Life doesn't get much better.

All I have to worry about, for now, are those damn safari tourist buses travelling south of this blighted river and hurling fruit in their zest to bag a wayward neanderthal.

On one occasion an open topped bus containing a wedding party rigged out in kilts and highland dress stopped nearby to take photographs of the picturesque rubble of a recent demolition. Two youths with hooded tops ambled out between some unscathed trees to sniff out the intrusion. I was too far removed to hear what words were exchanged, but a bottle was procured and lobbed with precision. One guest clutched his face and howled. The bus pulled away abruptly - scattering sundry parties like skittles - speeding towards normality.

It is ordinarily knives and broken glass. Sometimes a machete.

Marlboro boots, shell suits, and digital cameras.

I kid you not.

white riot

S CBS 5058.

Extract from a private correspondence to an American friend addressing post election hangover:

"Our own political reality here in the UK is so mired in bland inanity that one is entirely unable to differentiate incompetence from the genuine potential for evil. We are in an economic and social limbo bordering on clinical depression...

I am most definitely part of what is now quite comfortably defined [and officially listed] as the "white underclass". Untermensch, in the parlance of those National Socialists of yore.

Soon, no doubt, they will begin erecting fences around the ghettos. You may well find me reflecting on this subject very soon."

Released on March 18th, 1977. Written by Strummer & Jones; produced by Mickey Foote.

▼ THE CLASH: WHITE RIOT from "White Riot b/w 1977" 45 (CBS) 1977 (UK)

▼ THE CLASH: 1977 from "White Riot b/w 1977" 45 (CBS) 1977 (UK)

michael footnote:

In fact. They have already erected fences around the ghettos. They are invisible; a bit like the emperor's new clothes. Don't go near the water.

PURCHASE IT ON VINYL

sibling whispers #18: albert hoffman's bicycle

"Albert Hoffman's Bicycle" on Blank Stares and Cricket Claps.

psychedelic paisley background via 3datelier.com

from here to eternity...

vladimir putin pulls off a passable impression of our uncle bill.

▼ WILLIAM S. BURROUGHS: MILDRED PIERCE REPORTING (OLD SARGE) from "Spare Ass Annie and Other Tales" CD (Island Red) 1993 (US)

PURCHASE SPARE ASS ANNIE AND OTHER TALES

nickels and dimes

crossing the reed sea [of weeds]

Exodus 13-15:



"crossing of the reed sea" by cosimo rosselli, 1439 - 1507.
fresco (1481-2); sistine chapel, vatican city.



"Schilfmeer", translated as Reed Sea, or Red Sea. Culled from a compilation of early Popol Vuh recordings - with a vaguely unsettling old testament motif - between 1971 and 1974, released on the italian Cicada label in 1988, and reissued on High Tide in 1994. Featuring:

Florian Fricke: piano, electronics; Daniel Fichelscher: guitar, percussion; Conny Veit: guitar; Djong Yun: Gesang; Al Gromer: Sitar; Holger Trültzsch: percussion.

Written by Florian Fricke.

Despite the biblical imagery, the tone here is significantly lighter and more fluid than one might initially expect; a soothing jazz concoction complete with "Seeland" tidal effects - Neu! 75 - and fluttering tabla.

▼ POPOL VUH: SCHILFMEER from "Gesang Der Gesänge (1971-1974)" CD (Cicada) 1988 (Germany)

OUT OF PRINT

mother's little helper

generic mother's little helpers. made in hong kong.

If there is one drug - above all others - I cannot abide it is Valium, or Diazepam.

From Wiki:
"Diazepam (IPA: /daɪˈæzɨpæm/), first marketed as Valium by Hoffmann-La Roche, is a benzodiazepine derivative drug. It possesses anxiolytic, anticonvulsant, sedative, skeletal muscle relaxant and amnestic properties. It is commonly used for treating anxiety, insomnia, seizures, alcohol withdrawal, and muscle spasms. It may also be used before certain medical procedures (such as endoscopies) to reduce tension and anxiety, and in some surgical procedures to induce amnesia. Diazepam is a core medicine in the World Health Organization's "Essential Drugs List", which is a list of minimum medical needs for a basic health care system. Diazepam is used to treat a wide range of conditions and has been one of the most frequently prescribed medications in the world for the past 40 years. It was first synthesized by Dr. Leo Sternbach."

I despise the way it induces relatively stable and coherent individuals
to behave like mumbling, emotionally retarded and antagonistic assholes, and - worse - its augmented effect on already borderline imbeciles. I cannot remotely comprehend the attraction in using this suppressant recreationally.

I mention this merely in passing to underline a niggling irritability I've harboured for some time. Despite my better judgement.

If you happen to stumble upon this brief post by accident - in passing - as somebone who thinks it halcyon fun to drop this prescription medication as the ideal precursor to a night out, allow me to apologise.

Now, fuck off.

vintage alternative tv

DFC 02.





DFC 05.

Mark Perry: vocals; Alex Fergusson: guitar, vocals; Tyrone Thomas: bass guitar; John Towe: drums.

Both tracks written by Perry and Fergusson.



mark perry with mick jones, may 4th, 1977.
"backstage at ian hunter's gig; hammersmith odeon", london.

▼ ALTERNATIVE TV: HOW MUCH LONGER from "How Much Longer b/w You Bastard" 45 (Deptford Fun City) 1977 (UK)

▼ ALTERNATIVE TV: LIFE from "Life b/w Love Lies Limp" 45 (Deptford Fun City) 1978 (UK)

PURCHASE THE IMAGE HAS CRACKED + BONUS TRACKS
MARK PERRY OFFICIAL WEBSITE + PRODUCTS

meanwhile...

The escalating crisis in the Democratic Republic of Congo continues to worsen by the minute.

"UN Secretary General Ban Ki-moon has meanwhile warned that the conflict could engulf the wider region."

No doubt capitalizing on the recent media saturation allocated the US presidential election, Laurent Nkunda's rebel forces have initiated further offensives in a bid to undermine the Angolan backed regime in Goma. The end result is hundreds of thousands of displaced refugees with no safe haven in that region, and the very real prospect of renewed genocide as Rwanda fails to heed diplomatic calls to curtail its support for Nkunda's paramilitary thugs.

In humanitarian terms the prognosis is dire.

In economic terms, European Union member states risk unsustainable financial burden on recession fatigued resources as a new wave of beleaguered refugees understandably battle for asylum. And survival.

electric origami

sshh....

In the wake of this genial
election - like in the
wake of a warm hello fuck -
it's maybe better just
to say nothing at all for a
time. Lie back and
light a cigarette, keep it
short on words for a
little while. Watch the blue
smoke rings spiral
up towards the ceiling.
Float. Sink back into the
pillow and hold your
breath. Wait until tomorrow
for post-coital introductions.

And if. It still.
Troubles your conscience,
unduly. Awake.

Take your reservations into
the kitchen for morning toast.
Recriminations and coffee.

- ib.

Frank Zappa: guitar; Patrick O' Hearn: bass; Terry Bozzio: drums

Produced, arranged and composed by Frank Zappa.

▼ FRANK ZAPPA: PINK NAPKINS from "Shut Up 'N Play Yer Guitar Some More!" LP (Barking Pumpkin) 1981 (US)

PURCHASE SHUT UP 'N PLAY YER GUITAR! (3 x CD) REMASTERED

the sleeper awakes

"ORIGIN via Latin from Greek narkissos, perhaps from narké 'numbness', with reference to its narcotic effects."

Joe Henderson: tenor saxophone; Mike Lawrence: trumpet; Herbie Hancock: piano, electric piano; Ron Carter: bass instrument, electric bass; Jack De Johnette: drums.

▼ JOE HENDERSON: BLACK NARCISSUS from "Power To The People" LP (Fantasy) 1969 (US)

PURCHASE POWER TO THE PEOPLE (MILESTONE)
H.G. WELLS' "THE SLEEPER AWAKES"

kiss all the fannies you can

it might never last....
(image 'lifted' from matt @ perceptions. delusions.)

In British parlance, "fanny" = pussy, so the very act involves a good deal less bending over backwards. Per se.

PAPER 003. Written by Norman Blake. With love from Glasgow; nearly. Bellshill is close enough. A kiss away and home to Sheena Easton.

▼ TEENAGE FANCLUB: EVERYTHING FLOWS from "Everything Flows b/w Primary / Speeder" 45 (Paperhouse) 1990 (UK)

PURCHASE A CATHOLIC EDUCATION

right on the button

Produced by Lee 'Scratch' Perry.

▼ JUNIOR MURVIN: BAD WEED from "Bad Weed b/w Cross Over" 12" (Trojan / Upsetter) 1978 (Jamaica)

PURCHASE ARKOLOGY (BOX SET)

one more to go

r. crumb.

Unless you are Governor Palin, in which case...

Just help yourself to a f@ckin' croissant. Courtesy of Monsieur Sarkozy.

NOBODY HOME

and today's watchword is...

the man who would be king. CDNP headquarters, North-Kivu.
outstanding warrant for crimes against humanity.

F@ck Laurent Nkunda, and the humanitarian crisis he has escalated - almost single handedly, with the iron grip of an evangelical Christian warlord and a sociopath's thirst for personal gain - in the Congo.

May he die young. Slowly. In agony, at the hands of those innocent parties whose lives he has blighted in his relentless pursuit for natural resources and religious and tribal subjugation. Amen.

Crisis ? What bloody crisis ?

It's not all a matter of race, presidential or otherwise. Look to Goma.

Photograph by Cedric Gerbehaye, Agence VU.

LAURENT NKUNDA: BLACK STAR NEWS EDITORIAL
CONGO TROOP DEPLOYMENT: CNN
CHAOS AND CONFUSION: THE TELEGRAPH

stepchildren

Four of them are at the crossing lights. There is a lot of chattering - fractured monologues spiraling off in opposing directions - and the two adults seem distracted. The man turns to say something to the children.

The oldest one seems about eleven years old, the younger one a year or so younger. Difficult ages.

The man is checking they are paying attention to the road; the traffic is heavy this time of the afternoon, and the people behind the wheels of all that steel and rubber are preoccupied. Picking noses. Keying in telephone numbers to connect distantly and fleetingly with mistresses. Wives. Making appointments.

The children ignore the man's admonitions. They blink at him and continue to whine in marginally louder voices. At least. It seems like whining to my ears. The man seems to think so, too. The girl looks like she might even be sneering almost, but what do I know ?

My perception, such as it is, is prejudiced. Skewed.

"Leave them alone, " the woman says. "You're always on their back about something. No wonder they resent it."

The man tuts and mumbles something under his breath. The children laugh, but I can't decide whether the laughter is actually directed at him or at something wholly innocent. The crossing tone begins to bleep, and I drop my cigarette onto the pavement and lift my toe over it to grind it out. The man steps off the kerb and twists his neck and opens his mouth again. Like a freshwater fish shivering on a hook.

The car slams into him and lifts him straight up in the air.

A squealing of brakes and the sound of meat and bone coming together with a ball-peen hammer. The man's dentures are thrown loose and one laced shoe is off and back on the kerb. The woman shrieks.

The children stop chattering.

The woman is down on her knees among the glass and blood. I feel my body recoil inside my overcoat. I begin to sweat. Even though it is cold.

I am not good with accidents of this magnitude. I do not even have a cell phone. She continues to scream as the door opens stiffly on the drivers side - partially concertinaed but still quite functional - and a woman in a pale blue business suit puts her foot out in the road.

The man's legs are sprawled at odd angles and he is making gurgling noises in his throat.

The girl is saying something. She sidles off the pavement - a crab dance held together in a shiny nylon leisure suit - and steps behind the woman, tapping her shoulder repeatedly. A slim white hand. Twitching with impatience.

"Mum. Mum," she says. "Are we going home now ?"


photograph by tudor hubulei, 2004.

sibling whispers #17: live jam

Let's cross-pollinate.

Head over to Nothin' Sez Somethin' for a very rarified "Live Jam" with some very special guests.

From the sleeve to "A Can Of Bees":
"This album is dedicated to anyone who started out as an animal and winds up as a processing unit."

Re-released in 1984. Robyn Hitchcock's take on classic John; produced by Spaceward.

▼ THE SOFT BOYS: COLD TURKEY (LIVE) from "A Can Of Bees" LP (Two Crabs International) 1979 (UK)

PURCHASE A CAN OF BEES

power in the darkness

EMI 2715.

From Wiki:
"The band hit the club scene right in the middle of London's punk explosion. Their live shows got favourable reviews, and soon A&R men were
attending many of their gigs. There was one small problem - a song in the band's set called Glad To Be Gay. Even the punk independents shied away from this one. Stiff Records president Jake Riviera went as far as to refer to their music as fucking queer music."

Written by Tom Robinson. Recorded at Wessex Studio, London. Produced By Chris Thomas. Engineered by Bill Price.

Tom Robinson: bass, vocals; Brian 'Dolphin' Taylor: drums, vocals; Danny Kustow: guitar, vocals; Mark Ambler: organ.

Not quite in the same league as Jonathan Richman's "Roadrunner" - how could it be ? - but a good stab at striking a positive note from a curiously British perspective. I have always liked Tom Robinson; no matter what Jake Riviera allegedly went on record as saying. Fuck him.

Have you ever seen the 1978 Brit film, "Scum" ? The vegetarian Bolshevik in that movie was essentially Tom Robinson in caricature.

I did get pissed, though, when that fervent self-belief and advocacy of justice got hi-jacked by bland, politically correct motherf@ckers in the 1980s; let it be said. Men and women in suits. Regional councils.

Motherf@cking bureaucracy.

I have no interest in dressing up like Winnie Mandela. Halloween is over.

▼ TOM ROBINSON BAND: 2-4-6-8 MOTORWAY from "2-4-6-8 Motorway b/w I Shall Be Released *" 45 (EMI) 1977 (UK)

▼ TOM ROBINSON BAND: POWER IN THE DARKNESS from "Power In The Darkness" LP (EMI) 1978 (UK)

* Originally dedicated to the 'Free George Ince Campaign'

PURCHASE POWER IN THE DARKNESS + BONUS TRACKS