Sunday, May 24, 2009
Voodoo Rhythm sent me Bob Log III's My Shit is Perfect. At some point, once the sheer awesomeness of this release is out of my system I'll do a full freakin' review. I can say, however, that the first song is called "Goddamn Sounds Good" and there is much truth in that advertising.
Music like this reminds me of why I like music in the first place. I haven't been this excited about a release since Peeping Tom. This, it must be said, is nothing like Peeping Tom, though it's just as original. Whereas Peeping Tom is a well-oiled pop machine, this is swamp dirge. This is dirty. This is sweaty sex on a blood-stained mattress that rests on the floor in the corner, her body lit by a kerosene lamp.
Oh dear Lord.
Song four. "Bump Pow! Bump Bump Bump Pow! Bump Pow! Bump Bump Bump Pow! Bump Pow! Bump Bump Bump Pow! Bump Pow! Bump Bump Bump." Seriously.
Tom Waits on Bob Log III: "He's this little kid -- nobody even knows how old he is -- wears a motorcycle helmet and he has a microphone inside of it and he puts the glass over the front so you can't see his face, and plays slide guitar. It's just the loudest strangest stuff you've ever heard."
I first listened to it in my car. I thought something broke. The speakers were thumping strangely.
This is real. This is good. His shit is perfect. Perfection. A steel blade between the ribs. Lips parted. Pure sex.
Maybe I did just write a review. I don't know. This has thrown me for a fucking loop. You'll either love it or hate it. And that will say everything about you.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Motley Crue will not die. From what I've heard, the band appeared on the season finale of Bones. Seriously? Is this real?
I am not a fan of Motley Crue. I look it at as safe music for people afraid to really rebel against anything. Yeah, the band is hedonistic, but put them up against the Murder Junkies and we'll talk about real danger. Then there's the music. The best you can say is that it is catchy. The worst? It's boring.
I have friends who like the band, some who love it. That's okay. To each their own. I just think that after countless of bad television shows, plastic surgery, and general mediocrity that its fans would one day realize that the old sheen is gone. What was borderline before, has crossed over into self-mockery. It's Motley Crue. Who cares?
I don't dispute that the band is still popular. I do, however, dispute the fan base's tastes. This is safe music made for people who like to think they are on the edge, living vicariously through the vices of musicians who have stock portfolios. God, I wish those overdoses would've stuck.
I despise music that is marketed as rebellion and dangerous, yet is anything but. To me, as a music fan, that is the ultimate insult. Could you ever see Bloody Mess being given a reality show? Hell no. He's too unpredictable, too dangerous for real. Could you see the Mentors on the finale of ER? Negative, Ghostrider. That shit just ain't gonna happen.
So the next time you Crue fans think your music is somehow rebellion made good, remember all the corporate sponsors and preprogrammed banter that only differs by city name. You are being sold an image, and not a very authentic one at that.
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Brule Lentement is the latest from Voodoo Rhythm Cajun crooners Mama Rosin. It's the band's second release, and while it lacks the fury of Voodoo's own The Monsters, it is not a weak CD by any means.
In 2008 the band did over 120 shows, including the Football Championship Opening in Vienna. That experience, along with the first album, led to 13 new songs of Zydeco, deep South swamp musings and ancient Cajun. Mix that with a little bit of inspiration from The Clash, and you can tell this won't be your standard bayou band. (And you can't miss the Velvet Underground nod, either.)
Of course, what release is complete without a cover tune? Here it is the Movie Star Junkies' "Dead Love Rag." That's a tune that starts out haunting, kicks into creepy and borders on stalkerish. (Word made up exclusively for this review.)
Another song of note is "When the Police Came." Listening to this makes you wonder how a group from Geneva can do American music more authentic than most American bands. How the hell does that happen? I know we influence other cultures perhaps a bit too much, but how can a style of music so innate to a region be picked up so clearly overseas ... in Switzerland? That's about as far removed from backwoods Louisana as you can get.
If you liked Mama Rosin's first release (and I'm sure many of you have never even heard it), you're going to like this one even more. If you haven't stepped up to Mama Rosin yet, you have to be warned. This isn't for everyone. If your tastes are fairly exclusive to, say, Metallica, this will disappoint you in ways you can't even imagine. Luckily, my tastes vary, so I get to hear the best of all worlds.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
My friends know I'm a GG Allin fan. When he was alive we used to write and talk on the phone when time permitted. He even asked my joke of a band, JFK's Head, to open for him and the Murder Junkies. We turned him down.
GG, despite his many faults, always appealed to me because he represented the dark side that is present in us all. The ego out of control. The reptile. What you saw is what you got. He was violence personified, and I can respect that.
Many think Ozzy or Marilyn Manson are the top of the outrageous chain, but GG had them beat. No comparison really. Ozzy and Manson scare parents. GG scared everyone else. There's something very appealing about that.
A few months ago at my job there was a noise that sounded like a pistol being fired. People wondered what it was. A unit over someone said, not knowing that I was listening, that they thought I was shooting someone. To that, another worker replied, "No, Doug would bring in an AK 47."
That unpredictable nature, that sense of violence, the never knowing when things can go south is what makes us feel alive. It's what makes us get in touch with our primal nature. I've never heard another artist that even comes close to that. GG, backed by any one of his numerous bands, does that for me. "I will not act civilized," he once sang.
Thank God for that, because civilization is nothing more than a bunch of brainless sheep, and we all know what happens to them.