'Ya know, I originally started PtMiiC up 'cos I wanted to write about music in a tangible form. As the swaths of you that actually give me money in exchange for paper with my scribblings on it may be aware of, there's typically a considerable lag between issues. It became apparent after doing the last one though, that the lag is gonna get even laggier. It's fun doing this thing and all, but I'm a one man operation here (shimmering insights of the "Journalist" notwithstanding) and I just don't have it in me to crank 'em out at even the irregular pace we're already working with. But fret not 'Coffin' enthusiast! In light of that dilemma this blog will be seeing a little more action. To start off we got a round of reviews that didn't make it to the last issue due to page and/or time constraints. Dig in muffin mouth!:
Oh those Brits, always up for a good pun at moment's notice. Here we got the debut E.P. by a promising new English free-form Psych act, brought to us by the ever-exciting Savoury Days camp. I don't know about you, blog reader, but the folks over at SD HQ are one of the few contemporary facets consistently churning out new product that catches my eye. What's so great about 'em, huh? Why don't you fawn over my new electronic-pop project like every other tasteless sap on the Internet, ehhhh? Whys my butt itch?-I know I took a shower, eckkk! Well maybe I'm just not paying close enough attention to other outlets, but when you got a label headed by two Pheromoans putting out comps. featuring new tracks by the likes of Goss and Chloe saddled next to previously unreleased Door and The Window (even if I missed out on a copy, youch!) my ears are all a-perk. And then 'ya got confounding little platters like this one. Supposedly there are multiple songs on it, but it all moves along like a single extended, barbiturate-induced dry heave, swimming in the same sonic currents as an updated Damin EIH, A.L.K. & Brother Clark or what a second Real Traitors record may have sounded like. Real Psychedelia for the surreal times we live in, not some glorified form of historical reenactment. Yes, like the majority of their worthwhile predecessors, this bunch appears to know its better to role around in your own muck than spend time aping past conventions, or updating them by simply conforming into the framework of a newer, stupider one. As usual, a review comes off as overly snarky when it wasn't necessarily meant to, but I'm in a bad mood and this record just makes sense in a way that few do.Brown Sugar "Tropical Disease" 7" (Fashionable Idiots/Feral Kid)
Typically it takes me hearing from like 18 well-trusted sources that a newish hardcore band smokes before I get off my arse and actually pick something up by them. I'm not even trying to be a prick most of the time, but I just don't have much of a taste for this shit lately and have been burned too many times in the recent past by some muppet baby level thrashing. Of course, that means I miss out on good records fairly often, which, if this four song E.P. is any indication, appears to be the case with the back catalog of Upstate NY's Brown Sugar. Better late than never though I 'spose, 'cos what I'm hearing from this shiny disc is a fine appreciation/understanding of several key eras of American knuckle-draggin' sounds. No single song on here references one specific band or record, it's more like they sat around for days drinkin' dirt shakes while absorbing (note: big difference from "studying") the essential classics of '69 Detroit, '78 LA/SF and Cleveland '75-present to make 'em their own. Take the opening cut, "La, La Land," which sounds like the band is formed from a rag-tag ensemble of the Seeds, Germs and Feederz. Or closing "Sweet Water Pink Boat," which works through a riff that I could see Lincoln Street Exit or Verbal Abuse having equal amounts of fun with. The two quick ones in-between are no sleepers either. Plus, unless my ears/memory fail me, I'm pretty sure the thing begins with a sample from Tommy Viseau's The Room, so how could anybody not get behind this band? I look forward to approximately 5 1/2 months when I hear another hardcore record that hits me as hard as this one.
Cheater Slicks Guttural-Live 2010 (Columbus
While I'm aware not many people (at least anybody reading this pap) needs to be told so, the Cheater Slicks are a rare breed. Name one Rock band who continues to get better with age, over two decades into their career. Do it turkey breath, I dare 'ya! Since the late 80's the Slicks have been putting out great records. Not good records, not so-so records, great ones, damn near all of them (though my collection certainly has some holes to fill, particularly in the singles dept.). Their level of quality control is unprecedented, especially in the beyond-stale pastures of modern Garage Rock, and its 'cos over the years the Slicks have continuously refined their approach, while always staying true to the quest for pure of R 'n' R debasement. Whether it be flirtations with Psych-Pop (title track to Refried Dreams), white hot Noise (Don't Like You + too many others examples to list) or deconstructed Free Jazz (Bats in the Dead Trees) they've managed to mold everything into their own distinctly shit-caked renderings, and the older Dana Hatch, Dave and Tom Shannon get, the more dreary and primitive their music seems to become. It has often been noted that their brand of world-beaten Garage has possibly no better setting than right in front of your blurry line of sight at last call, making a planned suite of studio-less recordings, though I'm generally averse to live albums, a highly logical enterprise. Don't get the wrong idea, this thing doesn't like, project holograms of them playing; it's just the audio. But it's still a rather nice document for those of us who rarely get a chance to see them play. The first of a three part collection (don't, eh, get your hopes up about the other two coming out anytime soon though) Guttural features staples from the band's entire oeuvre recorded at various Columbus, OH locales, including favorites like "Feel Free," a cover of the Modds juvenile 60's punk classic "Leave My House," and an absolutely scorching rendition of "Ghost." What more's there to say? Yack, yack, yack, the Slicks are tits, you already know this, so buy (Or don't. Why the fuck would I care?).
Dark Day Exterminating Angel (Dark Entries)
Bleak, though not necessarily "cold," minimal wave emissions by a member of undoubtedly my favorite No New York outfit (though Mars could give 'em a run for their $ on a good day). I'm not necessarily the biggest fan of 80's (or 80's influenced) minimal electronics, because most of it is, you know...stupid, but when you got the bull who handled synths for DNA at the helm I don't mind givin' 'er a looky-lou. And hey, after hearing Robin Crutchfield's first "solo" (he's accompanied here by Phil Kline on guitar/bass/synth/piano and Barry Friar plays live drums) release (named after Bunuel's moronic censure of the French aristocracy) I'm happy I did. As far as sound/atmosphere goes, I'd say this one has as much in common with SPK and early DAF as it does John Bender. In fact, it's kind of a nice middle ground between the two, heavy on the mechanical lurch, but still retaining a pop approach pretty much devoid of experimentation. On the better tracks the thing at least ogles with it though. Take "Trapped" for instance, an eerie dub/dance hybrid closing out side one that approximates some of the better moments on Cab Voltaire's Red Mecca a year before that album even came out. Or "Arp's Carpet," wherein Crutchfield wheezes and drones into some kinda voice modulator underneath a claustrophobic beat like a sexually frustrated android. "Crown of Thorns" is an instrumental adaptation of a Pyramids song and indeed elicits mental images of sand covered vistas, camels, King Tut and the like. I could go on all day here but I think you get the idea. Comes with a handy poster/lyric sheet showcasing Crutchfield's large ears and often unintentionally humorous song descriptions. If this shit came out today all these losers who pretend to like Goth/Industrial would be discussing it in between figuring out how to look like bigger assholes. Somebody get this guy an 18 LP V.O.D. box set already!
feedtime Today is Friday (SS)
Values, ethos and morals are important to consider in these dire times. As I grow older and the threat of a day when I can no longer see my own feet looms large, one select life philosophy that continues to increase in relevance exponentially is this: "You don't fuck with feedtime." And who would? It'd simply be a waste of your and everyone else's time. I can scarcely think of anything more honest, more pure, more true to the spirit of freak Rock music than the racket kicked up by Al, Rick & Tom in their prime. And as a recent "critical re-evaluation" (not gonna bother reviewing the Sub Pop box, but if you don't have those LP's then get on it, obviously) and tour have confirmed, they're still able to bring the heat. Reunions are typically beyond-pathetic, but when I made the trek up to NYC this past March to catch feedtime it was maybe the only instance where one of these soirees actually made me like a band more. Not knowing the members at all I have very little insight, and am aware I may be projecting here, but they seem so completely divorced from the deplorable indie industry tug-n-rug. After hearing far too many hacks strategize how to get signed to Drag City with their self-indulgent fake psych act or some such nonsense, it just makes a band as uncompromisingly smart and tough as feedtime appear that much better. And after spinning those first four LP's over and over (still haven't heard Billy) it's really nice to get this collection of outtakes. Calling these outtakes seems unfair though, 'cos many of the songs on here would put the top content of lesser bands to shame. Featuring material recorded mainly around the time of the S/T and Shovel, it has got everything a fan could want. Wire-styled Post Punk, if Colin, Bruce & Graham were heavy handed mechanics instead of nimble-fingered art students? Check out opener "Nice." Piss-raw version of "Shovel"? You got it horse face. Covers? How 'bout an even rougher, more deconstructed take on "Street Fighting Man" than was featured on Cooper-S, or a stab at Flipper's "Life" for fuck's sake?! The mid to late 80's tend to get a pretty bad rap from most Rockist points of view, but they birthed us feedtime, and that's enough to forgive a million Steve Albini/Thurston Moore-headed circle jerks in my book.
Mad Nanna "I Hit a Wall" b/w Untitled (Quemada)Values, ethos and morals are important to consider in these dire times. As I grow older and the threat of a day when I can no longer see my own feet looms large, one select life philosophy that continues to increase in relevance exponentially is this: "You don't fuck with feedtime." And who would? It'd simply be a waste of your and everyone else's time. I can scarcely think of anything more honest, more pure, more true to the spirit of freak Rock music than the racket kicked up by Al, Rick & Tom in their prime. And as a recent "critical re-evaluation" (not gonna bother reviewing the Sub Pop box, but if you don't have those LP's then get on it, obviously) and tour have confirmed, they're still able to bring the heat. Reunions are typically beyond-pathetic, but when I made the trek up to NYC this past March to catch feedtime it was maybe the only instance where one of these soirees actually made me like a band more. Not knowing the members at all I have very little insight, and am aware I may be projecting here, but they seem so completely divorced from the deplorable indie industry tug-n-rug. After hearing far too many hacks strategize how to get signed to Drag City with their self-indulgent fake psych act or some such nonsense, it just makes a band as uncompromisingly smart and tough as feedtime appear that much better. And after spinning those first four LP's over and over (still haven't heard Billy) it's really nice to get this collection of outtakes. Calling these outtakes seems unfair though, 'cos many of the songs on here would put the top content of lesser bands to shame. Featuring material recorded mainly around the time of the S/T and Shovel, it has got everything a fan could want. Wire-styled Post Punk, if Colin, Bruce & Graham were heavy handed mechanics instead of nimble-fingered art students? Check out opener "Nice." Piss-raw version of "Shovel"? You got it horse face. Covers? How 'bout an even rougher, more deconstructed take on "Street Fighting Man" than was featured on Cooper-S, or a stab at Flipper's "Life" for fuck's sake?! The mid to late 80's tend to get a pretty bad rap from most Rockist points of view, but they birthed us feedtime, and that's enough to forgive a million Steve Albini/Thurston Moore-headed circle jerks in my book.Always a pleasure to see more 'Nanna in the pile, they being one of like five bands that're actually worth a toss at the moment. After picking through the wreckage (sans stick) of last calender cycle's trash heap their previous pair of singles came out pretty damn close to the top, so yeah, I was eager to "slip it in" this one. And as others have pointed out, it's another completely different, yet no less arresting, addition to the fine catalog of Rock dismemberment they've amassed thus far. "I Hit a Wall" might actually be the most together sounding tune we've heard from them to date, with legitimate structure, decipherable lyrics, and a chorus to boot. The music of Mad Nanna is maybe most akin to the act of eating an orange; it can be a pain to peel away the skin, but once the delicious juice found inside is dribblin' down your chin (gross) you know you made the right choice. Sure, some might say "why not just cut out the middle man and buy orange juice instead?" but it's clear they're missing the point entirely. The untitled B-side's a brief and thin strummer, working through a dingy riff while employing a bit of studio trickery to nice effect. If you've ever thought to yourself "a dryer Un" or "Jerry Solomon going right on 'Past the 21st Century'?" without cringing in terror, you really owe it to yourself to catch a grip of Nanna. And brush your teeth while your at it, you probably need to.
Mad Nanna I Made Blood Better (Negative Guest List)
At the risk of sounding like a giant windbag/asshole (too late, huh?), I’m gonna drone on about Mad Nanna’s debut long player in possibly inflated, largely non-musical terms: This record is getting stoned, driving to Taco Bell and hitting a deer on the way home. It’s agreeing to do something you know you’re not even going to make the slightest effort to do. It’s trying to wrap your tiny head around String Theory. It’s a lot of things that make life terrible and interesting and remind you that the universe really doesn’t care about anything you do at all. How any of that relates to this album, originally a cassette release that was re-sequenced for vinyl by the band and late Brendon Annesley, I’m not sure, but they’re the first few things I thought of when I eagerly threw it on my turntable (granted I was pretty high and had just gotten back from Taco Bell). There's really no sense in even writing about the songs themselves, all one needs to know is Mad Nanna seem to understand recorded sound’s ability to capture isolation and anxiety the way bands like the Godz, 49 Americans and Strangulated Beatoffs did before them. That’s not to say they sound much like any of the above, just a comparison to the overall claustrophobic feel. About half of this material is live, while the other is laid down in a studio of some sort, giving it a strangely urgent feel, like the band didn’t have time to record everything “properly”, or finish “writing” “songs,” or much of anything most bands feel the need to do. Nah, these guys were too busy plucking their hair out with tweezers and licking stamps (just a guess). I was originally unsure of how a whole LP’s worth of Mad Nanna, such a great singles band, would come off. Now I’m not sure if I could live with anything less. Before I run outta drool over here, it's suffice to say this is probably album of the year so far over at 'Coffin' HQ.
Noh Mercy S/T (Superior Viaduct)
Apparently to some people, Noh Mercy were a legendary band, possessing a mystique intensified by the fact that for decades their known repertoire consisted of merely two well-regarded contributions to the Earcom 3 comp. No boots, no rough demos, not even a goddamn live mp3 surfaced over the last 33 years. Now Superior Viaduct presents this tidy package, stuffed to the gills with not only the songs, but a nice eight page booklet including plenty of antecedents from people who were there, along with photos and related ephemera, that give an understandable context to this legitimately unique band. The label did a predictably bang-up job on their end, but when it comes down to it one cares about the songs, and they're really just not-that-good to these ears. If you're unfamiliar, then here's a brief description of the duo of Esmerelda (vocals) and Tony Hotel's (most other things) musical approach: no boys on guitars. Yeah, most of these tracks are just drums and and an angry woman yelling, which sounds like it could be great in theory, and was indeed a motivating factor in my purchase, but the majority of their output typically ends up feeling like its missing something...oh yeah, guitars! Eventually they do give in and fiddle around with Moogs, Farfisas and other instruments often associated with the making of conventional Rock music, and I like the whole performance art aspect the group took (except for their preoccupation with Japanese culture, that's pretty boring), but it comes off a little tiresome and self-serving much of the time. Esmerelda's attempts at rapping make Kevin Seconds look like Big L, songs like "Girl" and "Fashion Chant" come off like some B-Grade poetry written by the girl in a Skinny Puppy shirt you went to high school with, and one of the two previously released songs, "Revolutionary Spy" is pretty meh. Anticipated/informed Riot Grrrl, X-Ray Spex and the Raincoats? Cool, all those bands basically sucked though. Don't get me wrong, there are certainly redeeming aspects to this collection; "No Caucasian Guilt" really is pretty jarring, "Lines" is ahead of it's time primal Post-Punk backed by atonal guitar squeal and a repetitive synth pulse and "Play the Devil" manages to hold my attention with little more than tom fills and alternately spoken/shouted vocals, but overall this is something I could easily see making its way into the for sale pile next time I'm strapped for ca$h. Then again, I never cared much for the Avengers, who SV recently reissued a couple of singles for as well, so maybe I'm just a raging misogynist. Eh, so when is that long-overdue Church Police collection hitting the market?
Richard Papiercuts A Sudden Shift (Pena)
Debut solo long player for Dick Papiercuts, long time NYC Avant Rock man-about-town, and 14+ years under his belt with sporadically operating Chinese Restaurants, as well as the first release for the CA-based Pena label. I thought that the last two Chinese Restaurants singles on SS a few years back were fine enough, but their no-fi, (probably intentionally off-putting) jokey nature didn't earn 'em many repeat plays in my household. The press writeup on this thing just sounded so damn enticing I couldn't resist though. Label's shilling it as an urban update to Corky's Debt...well sheeiiitt Holmes, nem's sum pretty big shoes to fill. Let's try 'em on for size...what'd 'ya know-they fit! The joking continues on this record, with the word play in the name, ridiculous vocal crooning and plenty of piss-taking on innocent targets (Joy Division and Bunuel on "Virdiana," Mighty Baby on "The Devils", the godawful new-wave cum-on of "Let's Make Love," just to name a few) but it doesn't seem as tossed off this time around to me. In fact nothing sounds tossed off at all. The songs on this record are complex, diverse, and in their own peculiar way, mature. After a noisy opening blast Dick settles into the lunging "Yolanda", sounding like the estranged 4th Walker Brother whose share of tunes written for Nite Flites got cut from the original. To close out the A-side, the Restaurant's protest staple "River of Shit" gets re-worked sans Obama speech-clip with members of Ultra Bunny and Pop. 1280. "Mary Ann (The Lens)" is like the Frogs on an English Folk bender and self-references "River of Shit" in its lyrics. And closer "Johnnie" sounds oddly akin, whether it was intended to or not, to Hurt Me-era Thunders. As someone who often finds himself a good deal funnier and more charming than others seem to, I feel like I can really relate to where Dick's coming from with this one. Even if the quips aren't good, some body's gotta laugh at 'em. You know that well intentioned, vaguely-creepy yet awesome older dude who schooled you on everything from Canterbury Prog. to the books Tarkovsky adapted his story-lines from when you were like 19, but when you heard the music he was working on it was just kinda corny and tedious? This is like if it were really good instead.
Prisoners Go Go Band Live! At the Butchery (SS)
Fucking Christ! How come I'm not seeing this thing discussed more? 1.) Most importantly (that's why it's at no. 1), this record sounds fantastic; the noises it makes when needle touches down are kewl 2.) The context of this record is insane! South African apartheid. This album would be pretty weird if it came out in America today, but Johannesburg '81? Nuts. 3.) I don't know, did I mention it's a pretty good record? Basically, it's Culturcide or This Heat if they came up under the stifling social conditions they often railed against. I mean, the Go Go Band's sole vinyl document isn't exactly on the same level as Deceit, but it's got a gritty quality very much akin to 'da Heat's S/T or the tape abusing assault of Year One. And it's 'cos a lot of the influences are similar: R.I.O., Concrete-based analog experiments, budding industrial. Maybe add in some R.Ali/Coltrane collaborations (I'm thinking mainly "Unborn and Twisted," a solo piece that breaks up units three and four of the album) and this is what you get. But how did they get hipped to this shit in the ultra-conservative culture they were living in? Former member Yunus Momoniat (Oi! Wuz wit the funny name?) makes reference to a small scene of mix-raced counter-cultural opposition in a Jewish suburb the white guy in the band was living in, with conceptual artists rubbing up against social/political activists. And he confirms that Free Jazz was an influence on the democratic, cooperative band structure, which also employed a set of other improvisers, billed as "Special Guests on Fire," for these recording sessions. But still, according to him they knew of nobody else that really made this kind of music, and hey, who am I to question it? I can't think of too many who sound like it today. Total of 500 pressed by the band with the vast majority of the first batch destroyed (of course) by toxic glue used to paste inserts on the covers, and distributed terribly at the time by all accounts, further reinforcing that this reissue is one of the more vital documents the decade plus old SS label has released. And that's saying something.
Sedition Ensemble Regeneration Report (Sol Re Sol)
Second release on a subsidiary of SS geared to focus on non-Rock reissues/archival recordings, with particular attention towards ethnic music. I'm certainly no authority in this area, but sound-wise imagine maybe a Salsa informed take on Free Your Mind...and Your Ass Will Follow featuring vocalists arguably as annoying as Steve Ignorant and Penny Rimbaud. Sounds fucking incredible right? Totally a product of its time, which was the blighted squalor of early 80's NYC, and featured members with connections to the Contortions, Ornette Coleman and Rollins Band (can't make this shit up folks), along side a big name Latin horn section, and all headed by political film maker Ed Montgomery, lending a little more insight into how this incredibly whacked blend of No Wave, Funk and Free Jazz, with spoken word elements, could come together as tightly as it did. Originals were pressed by Montgomery as the sole release on the Context label in '81, but by all accounts the unrelenting raps on racial injustice and social class struggles inherent to tha city were not what fun loving ethno-dance types were tryin' to hear. Before you get all "Ewww political music!" on me, just remember that your ancestors really did do some pretty awful things Whitey, so I think you can handle being reminded of it for 40-some minutes, particularly when its backed by grooves this hard. And besides, one's always looking to fill more slots in the "just-pre coke binge Miles"-influenced section of his or her record collection, so albums that deliver on this caliber are more than a welcome acquisition.
V/A World’s Lousy with Ideas vol. 9 (Almost Ready)
After a three year absence the World's Lousy... series is "back with a bang, neowahhh" to deliver more top tier Garage-oriented excitement. I've long heard these are good comps. (sorry but I was never much of a "comp. guy" in general, so contemporary ones rarely pique my interest. Would love to own the vol. with Nothing People and Home Blitz though. Remember that shit selling out before I could cop), and the contents of this 7" certainly lead me to believe such a claim. Nothing on here sounds like a throwaway, outtake or re-hash, unlike many a compilation of yester-year, so that's always appreciated, and anybody bringing more Psandwich tracks to the world deserves a medal of some sort. A-side features a Hatch-penned slow burn delivered from depths murky enough to make Lee Hazlewood look like a member of the Compulsive Gamblers. Does that even make sense? Probably not, but once you hear the song maybe it will. B-side opens with a UK band called Thee (ugh) Spivs offering up a rollicking sorta tough Rockabilly number called "Men Don't Cry." It ain't so bad, but even though Billy Childish worship might not exactly be flooding the market at the current moment aren't there enough records actually featuring and/or produced by him to clog several land fills at this point? I just don't really see the point in looking anywhere but the source with a catalog that vast, but if you do then by all means, live your dreams guy. And the whole affair is rounded out by House and his crew of Columbus miscreants taking an auditory trip to the green pastures of Glasgow, Scotland for a tussle with Fun 4's gas chamber anthem "Singing in the Shower." I'd say they made the boys proud. Or at least made me feel alright about spending a couple bucks on this piece of circular vinyl. Either way, we all win for a change.
