His Shit Is Perfect

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.