WFMU's Beware of the Blog

The King of Marvin Gardens

In my world, it's almost never a bad time to watch a bleak, neo-realistic 70s Hollywood drama.  These were often simple human stories, told in a sometimes opaque and slowly evolving fashion, populated by complex, layered characters.  Remember when movies didn't need to spell everything out for the dimwitted, AND carry a 30-minute epilogue?  Well I do.  Keep your Spielberg blockbusters, Sundance channel indie charmers, your Harry Potter movies and your Lord Of The Rings trilogy.  Give me Electra Glide in Blue, The Panic In Needle Park or Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore.

The other night I sat down to re-watch an old favorite, The King of Marvin Gardens, from 1972.  King... is especially relevant here, as the principal character, David Staebler (played by Jack Nicholson), is a free-form DJ of sorts, a morose autobiographical storyteller, representative of a style prevalent on the FM band during the late 60s and early 70s, though barely present today.  Staebler's stories are told in a slow, patient style that would never stand amongst modern computer-ordained commercial FM formats.  The character's closest modern equivalent might be public radio storytelling giant Joe Frank.

David, a doleful loner, is called away from his nighttime air slot and grim 2-story Philadelphia flat to Atlantic City, by his troublesome wheeler-dealer brother Jason, played by Bruce Dern.  In recent years, Dern had performed memorable turns as a psychotic guardian of Earth's last botanical garden in the moody Sci-Fi thriller Silent Running (1972), and as the last guy you'd want as an LSD-tour companion in Roger Corman's The Trip (1967), the latter written by Nicholson.  Dern and Nicholson had already worked together on several films, including Drive, He Said, Jack's directorial debut from the previous year.  The wonderful Ellen Burstyn (see Alice... above) also stars as the sweet nut-job Jason's been shacking up with.

Blanket Fodder

In honor of my second week of hazy reality following hernia surgery, I present some "previously unreleased" material (i.e., I'm feeling too leaden and lifeless to churn out something shiny and new.)  These then, are my riffing sessions, ideas that might have been full-on essays (or blog posts), had they only jazzed more than 3 paragraphs out of me.  Hope you enjoy.

Don't Show Me Your Shit

One of my personal goals is to make it through life without ever seeing another person's faecal waste.  Well I've already failed, though by no fault of my own.  A holistic M.D. once asked me if I "looked" when I flushed after a dump (I have to assume this was a "psychological" question), to which I replied, "Yes, I look. I look FONDLY."  I say bye-bye.  But only to my shit, not yours.

The arrogance in "forgetting" to flush is staggering.  It's sort of the ultimate fuck you.  "Here, man, here's what I think of you.  Look what I left for you.  Isn't it pretty?" 

So don't show me your shit, OK?  I don't want to see it.  Don't take pictures of it, either.  (And that means YOU, Dave; your camera phone privileges should be suspended for life.)  The image of your brownish-yellow, spiraling doopy-doops will give me a bud of repulsion that will last a lifetime.

On Necromancy

If raising the dead were as easy as lighting a few black candles and reading from a book, everyone would be doing it.  The focus and dedication required to conjure up a spiritual entity within an exhumed corpse, usually for the purpose of divining information, is way beyond a guy like me.

Eliphas Levi, widely believed to have been somewhat successful in such ritual conjurations, most likely didn't have to punch a clock full-time.  Bon vivants such as The Great Beast, Aleister Crowley, were removed enough from ordinary society by wealth and class to afford them the time necessary to indulge in such pursuits.  I can't remember the last time I went on a horseback opium-poppy expedition, crafted a homunculus, or just performed a good ol' black mass.  There just isn't time for these things once your life gets going.

A Diagram of the Home

(hommage mineur à Bil Keane)

(F:) Drive Video Vault

Rarely do my worlds collide with such hilarity as in this clip from grindcore band Dying Fetus.  To see the Blue's Clues "face" and other images from popular children's TV used in this fashion brings me great joy.  (Everyone knows that Death Metal vocals started with the Cookie Monster, anyway.)  Go on, play this video for your kids—with the given indecipherability of the lyrics, I'm sure no one's in danger, despite the title.  Here's more information about the band and the album, plus guitar tabs for the song.  [Dying Fetus - Kill Your Mother Rape Your Dog mpg]

Since there seems to be a Fall renaissance going on, it's timely to view these clips of the band in their salad days.  First, one of the earliest lineups performing "Psychomafia" and "Industrial Estate" (plus some interview footage), taken from the What's On? program in 1978.  Note the presence of original keyboardist (and Mark E. girlfriend) Una Baines.  The next clip is a raucous live performance of the song "Smile" from 1983, when the band was featured on the BBC's The Tube.  BBC Radio icon John Peel appears briefly in the intro; Peel waived his hosting fee, with the agreement that The Fall could perform on the show.  All this should make you ripe and ready for The Wonderful and Frightening World of Mark E. Smith, an outstanding 2005 BBC4 documentary that is so good, the lack of a subsequent DVD release would be criminal.  (RSM contributed)  [Fall clip 1] [Fall clip 2]

How cool were The Stranglers?  Look at Hugh Cornwell—you wish you were half as cool as he is in this Top of The Pops clip, where the band apes to their version of Burt Bachrach's "Walk On By."  Not the greatest lip syncher, but still way cool.  Start with a base stock of Roxy Music, add some Ray Manzarek keyboards, fold in four creative, decadent minds and stir, with lots of grit and sweat from the pub floor and voila! — one of my all-time favorite bands.  Why are The Stranglers not as heralded as some of their contemporaries from the UK punk explosion?  Was it Dave Greenfield's refusal to leave the prog era behind and cut his hair?  Perhaps they were too dark, too literary or too sexy for their own good.  The Stranglers still perform and record today, albeit without Hugh, who's busy with his solo projects, including two books and a touring/recording band.  [The Stranglers - Walk On By mpg]

Who Really Cares...

...about correct grammar, spelling and punctuation?  As someone who has pursued a career as a proofreader and copy editor for almost 20 years, I consider myself part of that withering breed of cranks who do care, but are at the same time aware we're fighting a losing battle.

The publishing and news media industries, for the most part, do not pay their editors a living wage (it's more of a live-at-home wage), and why should they, with all the chuckleheads out there nursing Jimmy Olsen dreams?  As a result, newspapers, magazines, Web pages and even books in print are riddled with typos, misused punctuation and poorly written sentences.  Just look at this doozy (pictured) I found on CNN.com a while back—sentences like this are commonplace on CNN, MSN and other Web media outlets.

If you want to make a living wage as an editor, you'll most likely need to go to work for THE MAN, in one of several "evil" corporate industries such as law, finance, pharmaceuticals or healthcare.  These industries don't generally care about correctness, either.  They care only inasmuch as it affects their bottom line, i.e., if something in print isn't as it should be, they could be fined, be sued, or even (gasp!) lose an important client.  (Don't even get me started on Continuing Medical Education, a wholly corporate-funded scam, and the subject of another blog post for another time.)

So who really cares?  Lynne Truss does.  Truss expanded her well-received BBC Radio 4 series, Cutting a Dash, into the best selling book Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation.  Anyone with even the slightest reverence for correct punctuation usage and grammar will find this a laugh-out-loud read.  To demonstrate the strength of her convictions, upon the opening of the film Two Weeks Notice, Ms. Truss went to Leicester Square with a six-inch apostrophe mounted on a stick, holding it strategically aloft so that, for a time at least, "Weeks" carried its proper possessive.

Most passersby told Truss to "get a life."  The sting of this comment, in this context, has been felt at one time or another by all intrusive, stickler-types like myself.  My own wife, bless her, has weathered years of my "pronunciation tips," and never once told me to "get a life."  But just try telling someone to "get a life" as they blab on about last night's NFL spectacle, the "tribal council" on Survivor, or Lindsay Lohan's drunken escapades.  These things, apparently, are more legitimate stuff of which to make up a life than our glorious and complex written language.

Chinese Rocks

What has Wm. Berger been doing since he left the WFMU airwaves in 1999?  Well, a lot of things.  Among them, amassing a collection of great Chinese pop and rock music.  Mostly by way of recommendations from online friends in China and Taiwan, I've collected a handful of great, contemporary Chinese rock albums, and I have to assume that this is just the tip of the iceberg.

China has emerged in recent years as an economic giant, also seemingly in the midst of some dramatic cultural changes.  The children of upscale Americans are learning Mandarin, a language that may soon be as common here as Spanish if the Chinese have their way with the global marketplace.  Chinese hit movies like Hero and House of Flying Daggers play here (undubbed) to massive box office response.  There's no time like the present, then, to get acquainted with some of the Republic's rock underground.

Anthony Wong / Anodize - Hong Kong cinema star Anthony Wong Chau-Sang has acted in over 130 films since 1985. He made a name for himself playing opposite Yun-Fat Chow in blockbusters like Hard Boiled and Full Contact, and won awards for his portrayal of Wong Chi Hang in the notorious Bunman film.  I watch every Anthony Wong film I can get my hands on; he's a wonderful actor of great range and depth, bringing humanity and a dark, personal humor to even the seediest of roles.  He's also a musician, having released several CDs of idiosyncratic punk/new wave-inspired rock, sometimes accompanied by the metalpunk band Anodize.  His album of covers, Bad Taste-But I Smell Good (2002), is perhaps the most well recognized internationally.  Here's a nifty Anthony Wong page with some good photos, a (Japanese) fan page, and links to my IMDb comments for two of his films [1] [2].  (He should not be confused Anthony Wong Yiu-Ming, another very successful Hong Kong singer and actor, whose music is more the syrupy radio-pop variety.)  [mp3]  [mp3]  [mp3]  Anodize - [mp3]

Second Hand Rose Band - Part of the Beijing scene, Second Hand Rose derive part of their sound from traditional "Northeastern" music, blending Chinese folk instruments into a standard rock format.  Vocalist Liang Long always performs in drag, often in traditional garments.  Musically, they bring to mind 70s glam pop, especially Roxy Music.  Second Hand Rose have also made a splash in Switzerland for some reason, performing at several cultural festivals there.  Here are some Web pages about the band, in German and English.  [mp3]  [mp3]

What's On My Micro, Part 2

I'm back on the bus to NYC.  Off for a while, then on again.  Such is the life of a perpetually dissatisfied freelance worker.  The need arose, then, to refresh and revise the playlist on my Micro, resulting in the new inclusions below, though all but one of the artists are not terribly new (I must be at risk of High Luddite status; so few new artists impress me anymore.  With a few notable exceptions, new bands seem to often be just an amalgamation of older, better influences, unworthy of the sum of their parts.)

I also want to retract the statement made in my previous post about certain artists not qualifying as "music for being on the move."  Sooner or later, the complexity of moods triggered by commuting, and the city environment, will require a little Stockhausen or MB.

Apollo - Apollo (1970) - A gutsy Finnish rock act who were very much of their time, formed by members of the popular 60s group Topmost.  The album is evenly split between Beefheart-style screwy blues guitar numbers, and Aphrodite's Child-esque string-soaked prog ballads.  [mp3]  [mp3]

Association P.C. - Erna Morena (Live) (1973) - Pan-European improvisational rock band, with similarities to early Soft Machine.  Noodly psychedelic extrapolations, with some very rewarding emergent themes for the patient listener.  I wish more of their catalog were readily available.  A detailed information page about the band can be found here.  [mp3]

Bladder Flask - One Day I Was So Sad That the Corners of My Mouth Met & Everybody Thought I Was Whistling (1981) - Two sides of mind-warping sound collage created by the Rupenus brothers, aka The New Blockaders (see below).  The Rupenuses were also the masterminds behind the Mixed Band Philanthropist project and LP from 1986.  [mp3]

Haikara - Another great discovery in early 70s Finnish rock, Haikara were more progressive and complex than Apollo (above), with inventive song structures that sometimes incorporated Scandinavian folk themes.  Essential for fans of Arbete och Fritid and Panta Rei.  [mp3]
 

W.C. Fields and International House

My wife Elisabeth is the curator in our home of all things I refer to (sometimes derogatorily) as "old timey":  The Beau Hunks, Betty Boop cartoons, bluegrass music, The Marx Brothers, vintage children's books, the Carter Family, and all films pre-1950.  Not that I don't sometimes take to these things as well, but I go reluctantly, as my aesthetic nerve center draws me elsewhere by nature.  I am often, however, pleasantly surprised after an initial pooh-poohing.

Her latest addition to our collection of things from the "bygone era" is the W.C. Fields Comedy Collection - a 5-disc DVD set that's rapidly winning me over.  First, we watched The Bank Dick (1940), Fields' much-heralded surreal comedy about a hapless, boozing idiot who falls into, out of, and back into good luck.  I suddenly realized where the template for bizarre, free-associated stream of comedy like The Simpsons might have come from.  "Has, uh, Michael Finn been in here today?" Fields asks the bartender, a signal to slip a mickey to Snoopington, the bank inspector.

I wasn't, however, prepared for International House (1933), a wild cinema burlesque of bits, sight gags, risqué jokes and bare skin.  International House is a hotel comedy set in "Wu-Hu, China" -  a precursor to films like California Suite, where big names in idiosyncratic roles hold together a film that's actually about almost nothing. 

A certain Doctor Wong (played by a very un-Chinese Edmund Breese), has invented a cumbersome device called the Radioscope, which displays visual transmissions from all over the world and "needs no broadcast station; no carrier waves are necessary."  Genius!  What a great way to bankrupt the television networks that didn't yet exist.  Interested parties converge on the International House to place their bids on the new device.  Dr. Wong keeps promising, "And now, the six-week bicycle race!" but instead, we see:

-Cab Calloway and His Harlem Maniacs doing "Reefer Man":  "Why, what's the matter with this cat here?" "He's high." "What do you mean he's high?" "Full of weed."

-Baby Rose Marie (eek!) performing "My Bluebird's Singing The Blues."  Yes, that's Rose Marie, later of The Dick Van Dyke Show.  She was even scarier as a kid, and at first glance I thought she may have been a midget.  Must be seen to be believed.

-Rudy Vallee singing a smarmy, religious-themed love song (and being rightly trounced by Fields, who enters the room mid-song:  "How long has this dog fight been going on?")  Fields bad-mouthed Vallee intentionally, violating an agreement between Vallee and director A. Edward Sutherland, who had promised to keep Fields' comments on a leash.

-Colonel Stoopnagle and Budd, a dry-as-parchment duo of radio satirists, presenting sight gag inventions, and the bizarre slogan "Stoopnocracy is Peachy."

Adventures in the NWW List, Part 4

As we continue to approach the outer fringes of the Nurse With Wound List, information on releases becomes either scarce, or steeped in speculation and hearsay.  Since I know that I am, to a degree, facing an audience of fellow experts and enthusiasts, any further illumination (or correction) on these artists and their releases is always welcome.  I have acquired several of these titles as CD-Rs or as downloads, so in a few cases I don't even have the original LP sleeve in front of me to scour for what little information may have been available there.

For background information on the list, many other artists and links, please see this index of my previous posts.

Horrific Child - L'étrange Monsieur Whinster - The Horrific Child album is, to me at least, the jewel embedded in the forehead of the golden idol that is the NWW List.  Part rock album, part experimental album, part imaginary horror soundtrack, L'étrange Monsieur Whinster is a psychedelic pop audio show, flowing naturally from one surprising sequence to the next.  Horrific Child was the creation of one Jean-Pierre Massiera, also the composer behind the Les Maledictus Sound project from 1968.  Les Maledictus Sound were an inventive, high-brow concoction of Easy Tempo-style instrumental mod big band music, with heavy brass, plucky bass and fuzzbeat guitar.  Horrific Child is certainly the logical stylistic next step from that record, evidence of the composer's having survived several years beyond the psychedelic era.  A section from side 2 of L'étrange Monsieur Whinster was released in 1999 as a bonus track on the CD reissue of the Les Maledictus Sound album.  Originally released on the Eurodisc label in 1976. [L'étrange Monsieur Whinster - side 1 excerpt mp3]

Roberto Colombo - Sfogatevi Bestie (Ultima Spiaggia 1976) - Milanese composer, arranger and producer who worked with some of the giants of Italian rock and pop, like PFM and Patty Pravo.  Colombo recorded two solo albums in the latter 70s of this intense, tightly arranged Zappa-flavored progressive jazz rock. Here is a short biography in Italiano.  [Caccia Alla Volpe mp3]

David Cunningham - Grey Scale (1976) - Irish-born composer and producer David Cunningham is perhaps most well known for being in The Flying Lizards, and for their string of new wave hit singles ("Money," etc).  Cunningham is also a popular music producer in the UK, working with artists like This Heat and producing Peter Greenaway film scores with Michael Nyman.  He's also worked on countless projects with his long-time collaborators David Toop and Steve Beresford.  Grey Scale was Cunningham's first solo LP (released on Piano in 1977, predating the Flying Lizards by a few years), and remains a coveted collector's item.  It's an album of homespun minimalist themes for small ensembles, and quite cleverly conceived (make sure to read the sleeve notes at the following link.) Detailed information on the album can be found here. [Error System BAGFGAB mp3] [Error System C pulse solo recording mp3]

Shit From an Old Glove Compartment

My Mom rarely throws anything away.  I wouldn't say that she's a hoarder of tragic proportions, not like some you may have read about, but her home is unquestionably a museum of old magazines, old clothes, useless furniture, dried-out magic markers and cat knick-knacks.  "No Surface Left Uncovered," I like to say.  Every once in a while, her hoarding leads to unexpected discoveries, like a plastic baggie full of paper items retrieved from the glove box of the Dodge I drove throughout the early 90s.  As I sorted through them, these papers recalled a tattered reality of past lives, past loves, old friends and past decadence.

I used to have an assortment of little cards like this one, which typically carried a handwritten signature on the back (otherwise it was fairly useless.)  That signature (theoretically) endowed the presenter with the ability to purchase certain "specialized groceries" at said location(s), which would not have been available to the walk-in patron.

"Song For Uncle Wiggly to Sing" - Lyrics that were never musically realized, penned for us by friend and genius painter/performer TJK Haywood aka Wooden Thomas.  His work also adorns the cover of the second Uncle Wiggly LP, Across The Room and Into Your Lap.  Here's a link to Wooden Thomas' web site, and a free mp3 from his milestone album, Age of Aquarium.

Envelope and postcard from Thailand.  Sent by Sari Rubinstein, now The Queen of Rubulad.  Inside the envelope were a personal letter to me, and this glorious postcard of the Wat Chayamangkalaram Buddhist temple in Penang.  The postcard lacked a street address, but was written and addressed in name to my friends Mark Ashwill and Julie Spodek.  I guess I was supposed to hand deliver it.  Note my proto-hip Bedford Ave. address.  Some goateed beatnik no doubt lives there now and pays 4X the rent my roommate and I paid in 1992.

NOOIIISSSE!

When I awoke suddenly at 3 a.m. the other night to the sound of a ferociously loud motorcycle on the street outside, I knew then what this week's post would be about.  After trying to fall back to sleep for 30 minutes, I got up and started writing.

Those who know me know that I am all for noise in the proper context.  I listen to music that often prompts others to say "that's not music."  I love Merzbow, MB, Goat, Yoko Ono, Whitehouse and The New Blockaders.  But noise in the public, urban landscape can be intrusive, offensive, disruptive, disheartening and sometimes rage-producing.  Usually this kind of noise is propagated by individuals guilty of what I consider to be the greatest of personal sins:  obliviousness.  They're oblivious to the fact that they share their environment with others who are trying to live their lives in relative peace and harmony, i.e., "that's me, and I'm doin' it 'cause it feels good."  Most city noise isn't personal or malicious, it's worse; it's negligent and casually disrespectful.

Every so often, I read something about the measurement of big city noise levels, or about some legislator who wants to mount anti-noise laws as a quality of life issue, but things don't ever seem to change that much, and I think the whole situation speaks to the sad limitations of human nature and humans in general.  Environmental noise is likely causing us more harm than mere annoyance.  There is also speculation that noise may be making our kids dumb (see this link too) and hard of hearing.   Noise may also be damaging our wildlife.

When I enter "street noise nuisance" into Google, 90% of the links on the first 3 pages are UK-based; is this because the British are more apt to use the term "nuisance" or because goddamit, we're the USA, we're loud, proud, aggressive and prone to preemptive invasions?  In fact, a battery of noise-complaint-related Google searches I did brought up more UK and Canada-related links in general, supporting the common notion (which I'd like to believe is wrong) that Canadians and the British are generally more civilized than we are.  (The few relevant links I was able to find that related directly to the northeastern US are collected at the end of this post.)

We all have our "if I were Mayor, President, or King of the Free World" fantasies, and here are a few noise-related offenses that I, were I to ever hold high office, would terminate with extreme prejudice.

Music From Your Mothers

I'm on a real Mothers of Invention kick lately, and nothing could be better than the quintessential 1968 lineup (Don Preston, Roy Estrada, Ian Underwood, Jimmy Carl Back, et al.) performing King Kong.  What gene pool made these guys?  Largely classically trained, oversexed, jaded intellectual too-cool-to-be-hippie motherfuckers - they simply do not make bands like this anymore.  They inspired so many, and were narrowly rewarded for their efforts.  Of course, Frank Zappa's post-Mothers career and all-too-short life is well documented, but it's the Mothers era that never ceases to amaze me.

Note Frank's comment at the top of this clip thanking the BBC for "allowing them to do things..." - the US hasn't changed that much, if at all; we still have the worst artist-censoring record this side of Iran.
King Kong.rm

Adventures in the NWW List, Part 3

For background information on the NWW List and related links, see my previous posts.

The Sperm - Shh! (1970) - The 60s counterculture hit Finland with explosive results.  Even prior to the late 60s, Finland was considered an important center for contemporary electronic music and avant-garde art and performance.  If you then consider psychedelic and progressive rock on into the 70s, the Finnish scene was so rich that once you start listening you'll never run out of new discoveries; certainly, a wealth of curious releases remain unissued on CD. Several key titles have been made available on CD by Love Records.  For a detailed account of what went on, and the artists that propagated the mayhem, see the Finnscene site.  Also look for the indispensable compilation CD Arktinen Hysteria - Suomi-Avantgarden Esipuutarhureita (Love Recs), featuring several artists from the NWW List and other notable Finnish maniacs.

The Sperm were formed in 1967 by Pekka Airaksinen (who also features independently on the NWW List), J.O. Mallander and other giants of the Helsinki art/music scene, making them sort of an underground "supergroup."  They organized happenings, and made outrageous music using electric guitar, tape manipulation and other noises, spiritual grandaddys to the likes of Throbbing Gristle, Merzbow, Matthew Bower and The Dead C.  Yes, this album really is that good. [Heinäsirkat mp3]

Also quite worthwhile is the recently released Pekka Airaksinen/Sperm 2-disc collection including unreleased goodies, Madam I'm Adam (features 2 other tracks from the Shh! album.)

Patrick Vian - Bruits Et Temps Analogues - Excellent moog-based rock album released in 1976 on the legendary Egg label.  It's a wonder this hasn't been reissued, what with the intense interest in all things analog, to say nothing of the dozens of "sampleable" grooves herein.  Similar to early Heldon, or mid-period Tangerine Dream, but really its own thing and a very enjoyable recording.  Patrick Vian had previously led the group Red Noise (1970), also featured on the list.  [Grosse Nacht Musik mp3] [Tunnel 4 Red Noise mp3]

Adventures in the NWW List, Part 2

For the background and explanation of the Nurse With Wound list, see last week's post.  Also, last week I neglected to link to this great NWW List site, chock full of useful information.

Now on to this week's list of exceptional recordings.

Urban Sax - I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I avoided listening to Urban Sax for years.  You see, I have a thing about names, and the name Urban Sax conjured up visions of the stereotypical street alto player, clad in a loose-fitting geometric print blouse and a leather Stetson, bopping David Sanborn riffs to the aether somewhere near 72nd and Broadway.  How wrong was I?  Very wrong indeed.  Upon cautious investigation, I found that the "urban" in Urban Sax refers to the original project concept of creating sound environments in cityscapes via a large group of selectively positioned brass players.  Urban Sax is the creation of progressive music icon Gilbert Artman, founder of Lard Free and member of the experimental trio Catalogue with Jac Berrocal.  The band's discography up to and including the Spiral album in 1991 is varied and stellar, and perhaps most importantly, not what you might imagine.  Their sound is low on skronk, high on drone and performer interplay, such that the expected saxophone sounds are often submerged in harmoniously unrecognizable waves of tone, color and percussion.  For more information (and if you can at least somewhat read Francais) see their homepage; also see their brief but informative Wikipedia entry.  Though I believe that most of the Urban Sax catalog has appeared on CD at one time or another, nowadays the discs are reasonably hard to find.  Their self-titled 1977 album is a masterpiece, comprising four sidelong pieces of organic waft and shimmer. [Urban Sax Part 3 mp3]

Osamu Kitajima - Benzaiten - Debut rock/ethno/psych album released on Antilles in 1974, incorporating traditional Japanese instruments (koto, biwa, wood flute) into the standard rock mix. Largely instrumental and proto-new age, but definitely a rock record first and foremost, with heavy electric guitar passages.  Kitajima has an extensive discography, though my guess is that Benzaiten will appeal most to fans of the list.  Today he is "Dr. Kitajima," and runs new age label East Quest records. [Benzaiten (repris) mp3] 

Namelosers - New Orleans mp3

I just wanted to share this with everyone; my favorite rendition of this popular song, made in 1964 by some Swedes who I'm guessing were never in the great city.  They sure as hell aren't singing "Southern belle" either.  Nonetheless, it rocks.  Band info  [mp3]

Adventures in the NWW List, Part 1

In 1979, the members of Nurse With Wound, Steven Stapleton, John Fothergill and Heman Pathak, compiled a roll call of their favorite "outsider" musical artists to include with their first album, Chance Meeting on a Dissecting Table of a Sewing Machine and an Umbrella.  No other details were provided, just 300 or so names in block type.  The second version of the list included several newly added names, and came with the To the Quiet Men From a Tiny Girl LP in 1980.  Stapleton and co. knew not what they hath wrought; the so-called Nurse With Wound List has since become a scavenger hunt of holy grails for fanatical collectors of Krautrock, progressive rock, psychedelic, post-punk, jazz, free improvised and experimental music.

Most of the artists on the list stem from the period 1969-1980, that gloriously creative, fertile era when most of my favorite records got made, boundaries were broken and excesses were indulged.  To date, many of these artists and their recordings remain unissued on CD, though a substantial number have been made available by stalwart reissue labels like Alga Marghen, Captain Trip, Fractal, Spalax, Paradigm and MIO.  In fact, the list is at least partly responsible (along with the Freeman brothers, Julian Cope and others) for the resurgence of interest in the Krautrock genre and the reissues that followed.

I have attempted to include here only selections that cannot be easily found elsewhere.  By and large, the labels that have endeavored to put these titles out are very small labels that deserve your patronage.  I have no desire to undercut their business, or the business of specialty stores and distributors around the world.  Most of what you'll see and hear here (and in future posts) are rips from my personal vinyl collection, or else they've been acquired as downloads via online file-sharing communities.

Orchid Spangiafora - Flee Past's Ape Elf - According to information found here, "Orchid Spangiafora is Rob Carey sometimes aided by Byron Coley & Chris Osgood (of the Suicide Commandos)."  This album came out in 1979, and has got to be the weirdest record ever released on Twin/Tone.  Brilliant, obsessive, hilarious spoken word-tape-cut-up-hell of the highest order.  For audio samples, or to purchase a "custom CD-R" from Twin/Tone, click here. [Sheer Madness mp3]

Sally Smmit and Her Musicians (1980) - Hangahar - This is The Mekons' Sally Timms like you've never heard her, long before she became the belle of skewed new wave-country music fans everywhere.  Released on the ridiculously short-lived Groovy label (Pete Shelley's label, which also released his now ultra-rare Sky Yen album), the album is two sidelong pieces of shambling post-Yoko Ono, post-Can jamitude. Undoubtedly an influence on Kraut-pranksters Damenbart. [A - Part One (edit) mp3]

Verto - Krig/Volubilis - Dark, hovering, French progressive psych released in 1976 on the Tapioca label.  Tapioca was associated with the obscure Pôle label, responsible for the original release of this and several other monumental French prog classics featured on the list, including the Besombes-Rizet double LP. Guitars, keyboards and ominous vocals. [Et Terre mp3] [TK 240 S 52 mp3]

What's On My Micro

I haven't done a weekly show on WFMU since 1999, so please indulge me.  Much like that kid at the party who takes over the stereo, this is the only opportunity I get to communicate my tastes to the world at large.

When the need arose for a portable music listening device, I bought this nifty little thing called a Creative Zen Micro; it holds 5GB of music or data, is about two-thirds the size of an iPod, and best of all, you don't need iTunes in order to export/import files (easy-to-use Windows-based software is provided.)  No freezing or battery charging issues, either.

So what's on an ex-FMU DJ's portable, you ask?  Note the absence of Morton Feldman, Stockhausen, La Monte Young, the "Lake" album, Conrad Schnitzler, Stars of the Lid, H.N.A.S., Merzbow, DDAA and other oft-played artists of this nature from my years on the air.  That stuff still gets played at home all the time; remember this is music for being on the move.

Alrune Rod - 2 albums by Danish heavy psych band, ca. '69-'70 (and way above average for things fitting that description.)  Got the tip from the unsung section of Julian Cope's Head Heritage website. [mp3]

Amon Düül II - Yes, I am still a Krautrock fanatic.  2 albums:  the highly acclaimed Yeti from 1970, and the less-acclaimed (but still dear to me)  Vive La Trance (1974). [mp3]

Bad Brains - Their 2 great SST albums, I Against I and Quickness, plus the phenomenally good dub disc I & I Survived. [mp3]

Basement 5  - Unofficial complete discography of this UK post-dub-punk outfit, ca. 1981; produced by Martin Hannett, and compiled lovingly by R. Stevie Moore. [mp3]

Culture - mp3 assortment - Classic 70s reggae; including their hit "Two Sevens Clash." [mp3]

Don Bradshaw-Leather - A rare item from the infamous Nurse With Wound list.  See Brian Turner's post here.  Super-dark psych weirdness, heavy with mellotron and piano.  Not recommended for listening on the bus.

Fugazi - Repeater + 3 Songs - For those times when I need a righteous instant pick-up.  Slinky, uplifting punk music from 3 of the nicest guys I ever ate mediocre Chinese food with (Mr. MacKaye wasn't there, but I'm sure he's nice too.)

What Really Happened...

...to Natalee Holloway?

How does someone just up and disappear?  Why can't they "tune up" murder suspects in Dutch territories?  How long can a European rich kid keep quiet?  These and other questions may plague us forever, but we can be pretty sure that it's unwise to get drunk in a foreign land and make out with a sadistic rich boy that you just met, however cute he may be.

I would like to see her returned to her family alive and unharmed, but with the passage of time, a positive outcome seems less and less likely.  Still, judging by the seemingly everlasting media coverage of the Holloway case (particularly by the always "compassionate" Fox News), one would think this were a global tragedy of tsunami proportions.  Get some perspective:  In the United States alone, more than one million people are reported missing each year; most of them do not have three Dutch F-16 warplanes with lasers and special cameras looking for them, either.

Chances are good that the Bad Thing has happened to young Natalee.
Running the acknowledged risk of extraordinarily bad taste, I offer these alternative possibilities:

-Shot by disappointed office seeker

-Harem girl at Brunei Palace

-Managing Aruba Denny's

-Drowned self, despondent over Terri Schiavo passing

-Drowned self, despondent over Jackson verdict

-Drowned self, despondent over choice in America's Top Model 2005

Wm's DVD Hit List

DVDs have been around long enough that releases pandering to more obscure tastes are now a given.  (If you remember, it took CDs a while to delve into the farther reaches of "good" taste; now we hardly blink when confronted with a 19-hour G.I. Gurdjieff box set.)  I no longer have any doubt that I will someday hold in my hands DVD reissues of WR: Mysteries of the Organism, Dellamorte Dellamore, Elevator to the Gallows and the works of Kenneth Anger.  There are a few films recently (and not so recently) surfaced on DVD that warrant mention, both for their outstanding quality as films, and for the celebratory fact that someone had the cojones to put these titles out.

The Ultimate Camper-Slasher Film
Forget Friday the 13th.  Forget the whole series.  Jason Voorhees (one of the dullest characters in the horror genre) has nothing on a couple of inbred Virginian twins.  Whatever camp appeal the loosely strung together kill scenes of the Friday series may provide, Just Before Dawn (1980) is guaranteed to thrill on a more sophisticated and cathartic level.  A worthy descendant of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Just Before Dawn has a subtlety and lingering creepiness not seen too often in this genre, i.e., what you don't see, or what you see quickly out of the corner of your eye, is ultimately more unsettling than any graphic gore that could have been provided.  Shriek Show's reissue packs a full 2nd disc of cast and crew interviews, trailers and stills galore.  Click here for my full review posted on the IMDb.

Eye Myth
I’m a whore for the early days of experimental film, especially of the 50s and 60s.  The thoughtfully-assembled, gloriously remastered Stan Brakhage double-DVD on Criterion (rel. summer 2003) was therefore a must-have.  Brakhage’s goal was to liberate the eye from learned perceptions, i.e., "How many colours are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of 'green'?”  Nowhere is this notion more manifest than in Dog Star Man, presented on disc 1 of the set.  In addition to the images filmed, the actual negative was painted on, scratched and distressed any number of ways.  The result is a fast moving (but not un-soothing) cavalcade of color imagery and superimposition.  That said, the sheer beauty of Dog Star Man, and many of the other films in this collection, will likely keep the uninitiated from feeling bored or over-articized; inasmuch as these are unquestionably experimental works, lacking plot or narrative, they are nonetheless accessible to anyone with a relatively open mind and a set of working eyes.  (Note: Some films in the set are not for the faint-hearted, including unblinking autopsy footage and a live birth; these are not, however, typical of what’s presented.)

How To Break Up With Your Bad, Scary Boss

I received a message last week from a former co-worker, a truly sweet, humane and talented woman, requesting my advice.  She was poised to give notice of her resignation to her boss, a complex character whom I know all too well, as I gave him my own resignation notice last fall after almost four grueling years of employment.  Now lots of people hate their jobs, but this place, and this man, were no joke.  I performed several burning parchment rituals over the years in an unsuccessful attempt to quash or at least diminish this fucker's psychological power over all of us.  But his will was more iron than mine at the time, and may still be.

I got my ass out of there, and the task before me now was to help my dear friend extricate herself with a minimum of misery and anxiety surrounding the proceedings.  I felt that my response to her was worthy of a blog post, and might perhaps be of help to someone else in the Web universe.

(Note that all names (except mine) have been completely changed to protect all parties from possible legal repercussions.)

Dear Friend,

First of all, congratulations.  I personally hate working, so actually looking for work runs counter to my nature, though sometimes it must be done.

"Selling yourself," seeming like a "people person" and a "self-starter," are all activities that threaten to make sane, sensitive, artistic folks like us spontaneously combust in anguish.  So good show, you got out there and you found something.

Horror Auteur: Dante Tomaselli

Dante Tomaselli is a director of films that you, the WFMU listener, the inveterate hipster, ought to know about.  While many modern films are described by critics as homages to 70s horror/fantasy, Dante Tomaselli is a true son of creepy 1970s and 80s genre films, as well as being a son of Northeastern NJ.

His two films currently available on DVD, Desecration (1999) and Horror (2002), both stand as visually engulfing nightmares torn from the psyche of a middle-class suburban kid not unlike yours truly.  Desecration deals with religious and family archetypes via mysterious happenings at a convent school, while Horror is an LSD-tinged crazy quilt of hallucinatory occultism populated by a group of misfit adolescents, also starring The Amazing Kreskin in a lead role.

His latest release, Satan's Playground (2005), involves a vacationing family's encounter with The Jersey Devil.

Dante was kind enough to submit to an e-mail interview, the transcript of which follows:

Wm: First of all, Dante, thank you for taking the time to answer a few questions.  I believe there are a great many film fans here who would benefit from knowing about your work.

DT: Thank you.   

Wm: I own your first two films, Desecration and Horror, on DVD, and have watched both several times with great enjoyment.  Your work seems to be imbued with a vibe that is so specific to coming of age in the 1970s, watching medium-to-low budget horror/fantasy, as I did.  Films like The Sentinel, Don't Be Afraid of the Dark and Jack Woods' Equinox are deeply imprinted on my memory and personal aesthetic.  Can you speak to that influence a bit?

DT: I was 7-years-old when I saw The Sentinel at a Drive-in in 1977. It was a blasphemous film, yet stylish, gothic. And I saw Don't Look Now around that age too. It left a very deep imprint. That knife wielding grinning death dwarf has to be the most nightmarish sight — ever. There is just something about films from that time. They were no-holds-barred. Totally unhinged.

Heretic Anthems: The Case for Slipknot

I expect an uphill battle on this topic, especially given the audience.  Those of you who know me from my years on the air ('84-'99), advocating artists like Faust and hanging out with the likes of Jowe Head and La Monte Young, may assume that I've gone completely bonkers.  But in my pre-WFMU years, my taste was informed by a great many other things, like Black Sabbath's Master of Reality, the first Damned album, and "Pay to Cum."  Lovers of hard and heavy music everywhere ought to bypass pre-conceived notions of teenybopper "Nu Metal" in this case, as we all know labels are ultimately meaningless—when you hear it, you either like it or you don't.

Back in mid-2002, I rented the DVD of the movie Resident Evil. What stuck with me from my viewing experience (apart from Milla Jovovich – sigh), was a bonus music video for a song used in the film, by a band that I had always assumed to be a half-assed “rap rock” act ala Insane Clown Posse.  The song was “My Plague” by Slipknot:  great angry lyrics, monster riffs, horror-movie-style latex masks, a giant inverted pentagram backdrop, and fire.  I deemed the band worthy of further investigation (need it be said that I am also quite sympathetic to devilish, “Satanized” imagery?)

What can I say?  With no apologies to the underground musical elite, I became a fan.
Slipknot’s first 2 CDs spoke to the angry, frustrated adolescent in me, and helped me through a lousy time at a lousy job.  Their best songs are hooky anthems of limitless hatred and anger that embed themselves in your brain like a mighty dose of SSRIs.

Deep Red from Beyond The Darkness

Goblin were the greatest rock soundtrack band that ever existed.  Forget Pink Floyd's tossed-off efforts for Barbet Schroeder.  Goblin were the Bernard Herrmann of European thrillers and horror throughout the 70s and 80s, the Nino Rota of eye gouges, beheadings and sex slashings.  They also did the very memorable international score for George A. Romero's Dawn of The Dead (known in Europe as Zombi.)

Led by keyboardist Claudio Simonetti, Goblin wrote pulsating rock scores for over 2-dozen films and television programs, mostly, but not exclusively in Italy.  Their soundtracks incorporated symphonic prog rock, electronic minimalism, eerie soundscapes, disco, exotic ethnic instrumentation, strange whisperings - whatever worked best while Stefania Casini was falling into a room full of barbed-wire coils in Suspiria, or a young Jennifer Connolly communicated telepathically with insect swarms in Phenomena (aka Creepers.)

The Buttsex Conspiracy

My first tidbit of sexual misinformation came in the fourth grade, when Peter Heinz next door told me that babies were conceived in the anus.  Even at the time, this seemed confusing, but it wasn't until a whole year later that I discovered his information had been completely erroneous.  But perhaps Pete Heinz was a prophet in his way, a seer into the dark trends of the coming century in internet porn.

If modern pornography is a reflection of contemporary society, and I believe that it is, then there's an awful lot of buttsex going on.  And by this I mean straight buttsex; gays, of course, must employ buttsex as a means to express their affection - this is one of only two viable pathways in their case.  Straights, however, have no such excuse.  As a straight man, if you're fortunate enough to have a mate, or at least a woman willing to lie down with you, she comes readily equipped with a magnificent vagina, one of creation's greatest achievements, its labial folds and fleshy contours custom-designed to ensconce the penis.  So why do you wanna force your way in the back door, brother?

We have a saying in our home:  The butt is for "exegesis only."  Exposition, explanation and interpretation.  As far as our needs go, it's exclusively an exit, not an entrance.  No tongues, fingers or other appendages need traverse there for us to have a satisfying sexual experience.