||[12 Apr 2005|07:36pm]
Decided two weeks ago, after numerous cardiac events, to take my live in doctor's advice and cut caffeine out of my diet. So it's just decafe and meth for me. I'm really stating to notice the difference. P:ano put out a record for Electricity, which just might be a local record label and just might not be. I'm sure their, P:ano's, lyrics are witty and relevant and incisive and meaningful and stuff, but I never pay attention to them. Instead I get all tensed up in thinking about how much fun it seems like they are having. Two songs, the 'a' side way more, way more upbeat than I'm used to and the 'b', starting out like 'Hot Smoke & Sassafras' by The Bubble Puppy, except the feedback doesn’t turn into the howl of a guitar. It's still good though, but no, sigh, Bubble Puppy. The funny thing about robots is just how unfunny they find the Three Stooges. The other day i was watching “Micro-phonies", a black & white short from 1945. In which Curly, while fooling around in a recording studio gets mistaken for a beautiful soprano singer. Hilarity ensues, when, maybe you remember it, Moe says "why I oughta!", pulls Larry’s hair and pokes Curly in the eyes. My poor lap-bot had to be reset three times. However it gets hyper excited when I play this Tamion 12 Inch and Adult split from Ersatz Audio. So much so, I had to shut it off and have Bentley, the butler, put it in the closet. I’m really hard pressed to differentiate between these two bands.
One sounds like the other and the other sounds like the other one. Each presents itself with a catchy drum loop stolen directly from The Flying Lizards. The singers could swap off and I don't think you'd notice a decline in the quality we've come to expect. Do yourself a favor and rent Liquid Sky, the whole electroclash thing starts to come into focus. Don't be fooled! Some records don't sound better when played at the wrong speed. Case in point Wanted Dead who's White Lies release for Charged Records disproves that point. Sometimes when listening to punk 45's I wish that I could switch the speed to 78. Get in and out as quick as possible and no one gets hurt, or is the wiser. That's been my axiom for decades. This, however, is tight enough without being all d&d, fucking champs, Malmsteen anal. Sloppy enough to sound fun and fast enough to get 2 decent songs on each side. And please, I besmirch you! Don't confuse the title track White Lies with the song White Lines, it only humiliates me and you! The thing about fire is, it educates as well as entertains. You put someone's hand in it and they teach you not to o it again. But entertains you when applied to drapes.
One of the singers for Straitjacket needs to clear his throat. The Loudest Voice put out by Dead Rock Records. Let's just say a prayer for Vishnu, the 'a' side is over before it really started to grate on my last nerve. The 'b',Coffin Dodger and So Cold are pretty catchy and I wish were longer. Toe tapping, beer fueled punk rock, which makes me yearn that my replacement foot would come in the mail. The thing about art is that if you add an 'f' to the front of it you get fart and that's how people react when they catch a whiff of it, wondering who cut on, pointing at the guy wearing the barret. High concept Reynols have released Deportation Symphony to unsuspecting consumers via Riot Season. Sometime in 2003 Reynols got refused entry into the UK. Probably because Jesus is in the band (go look at a picture of them and tell me that's not Jesus!). So in the six hours of their detention, they decided then and their they were going to record the sounds of themselves playing amplified photocopies of the papers given to them by the UK immigration services.
About as exciting as listening to a six year old slam a car door for an hour. This just in, the three piece, that is Reynols have broken up. Looks to me like Jesus was called home. Through trial and error I've come to the conclusion that maple syrup and fine grain mustard while both perfectly acceptable condiments on their own, are not the tasty treat you'd expect, when mixed. Intense Detroit city garage rockers, The Dirtbombs share a split single with disco dance maker Justin Robertson AKA Lionrock. Which produces much head scratching. Both songs are good, but where they meet in the middle is as much a mystery to me as why people under 25 don't watch Murder She Wrote. The Dirtbombs contribute She Played Me Like A Booger. Which, in a weird, reminds me of "The Shaw Sleeps In Lee Harvey's Grave" by the duh! Butthole Surfers. Compare the two and let me know what you think. On the other side Mr. Justin (don't call me Justy) Robertson with, Twisted And Torn lays down this mid-80's Joe Jackson sounding pop song, that lifts the piano stabs from the song Steppin' Out. I still like it though. Conflicted iconography makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
Me wearing a Nike t-shirt. King Diamond singing songs about kittens. Catchy pop songs about rejection. The Features, with Buffalo Head on Fictitious Records, do just that. Happy sounding, organ driven music, that makes me wish I could experience just the type of joyus rejection they so happily sing about, instead of the usual three week suicide watch that neighbors go on after I've been dumped. Some women just can't understand the complexities and intricacies of taking care of a man who was born with his bowels outside of his body. And speaking of hip shaking, it's time I had Bentley wheel me over to the window so I can watch the afternoon birds and make excited cat noises. Hugs!