DJ Dog Dick
“Grease That I Got”
Based on a casual perusal of Twitter, certain factions of the world (i.e., ■’s) aren’t ready to accept “DJ Dog Dick” as a moniker, much less as their personal psych-synth faux-hop slime-noise messiah — but I’ve been ready, and you have too. If a little context would better ease DJDD, born Max Eisenberg, into your sweaty lovin’ arms, here it is: the Rockaway-based multi-instrumentalist has been releasing limited edition cassettes and 7-inches under the moniker since the mid-oo’s; he put in years of stage and studio time with noise legends Nautical Almanac, formed the duo Dog Leather with fellow industrial/noise DGAF prodigy Sewn Leather, and has recently been performing with Pictureplane (as Dickpic, natch [full-length coming soon]). If scientists invented a new machine to more accurately approximate the number of fucks given by their test subjects and locked the device in place right above DJDD’s sternum, the needle on the gauge would never rise above zero. Conventional notions of “taste” or “genre” or “quality” don’t factor into his output. I ask you now as a listener to renounce these constructs and come hang out with me in DJ Dog Dick’s metal-strewn, stinking alley full of piss.
You can find “Grease That I Got,” streaming below, on DJDD’s The Life Stains (available now on LP, CD, and CS from Hoss Records) along with twelve other bursts of toxic sonic mania (like this one and this one). I invite you to make up your own far-fetched comparison while listening to “Grease,” but please be sure to name check at least four disparate musical projects. Here’s mine: Green Day doing whippets with Culturcide in GX Jupitter-Larsen’s basement while Bruce Springsteen peeks disapprovingly through the window. “What about the guitar solo?” Oh, does Springsteen not cover that? Uhh, ok, Snakefinger is there too.
Put down your computer, pick back up your computer, and order The Life Stains now.
Queens of the Stone Age
“The Vampyre of Time and Memory”
Queens of the Stone Age have unveiled a grand interactive video their track “The Vampyre of Time and Memory,” also known as the mope anthem of the year; also known as the soundtrack to my life. The …Like Clockwork standout was penned after Josh Homme’s brush with death, an experience that, understandably, bummed him out significantly. Now, viewers have the chance to dive into the morbid misery themselves, via a sp00ky tour of a sp00ky mansion populated by a washed-up singer, ghostly maids, venus fly-traps, taxidermied animals, and, oh yeah: badass Mr. Homme. The way he plays the piano with skull ring-adorned hands, cynically sneering into the camera as though it was a lover asking too many questions, I’m reminded of Johnny Cash: another malaise-addled bad boy whose later art sought to examine just what it is we’re doing here.
Repeatedly, surrounded by his immobilized menagerie, Homme moans his central query: “Does anyone ever get this right?” Obviously, the beasts didn’t – their cotton-stuffed bodies stand as a tribute to that fact. Ditto for the chanteuse, whose eyes are similarly glazed-over and tired, reflective of a woman practically courting the reaper himself. Yup, as usual, Queens keep it depressing, and yet, navigating the halls of the mansion, you can’t hold back a sense of wonder. This vampyre’s got one hell of a crib.
Take the tour at “The Vampyre of Time and Memory” website, here.
How An Absence Creates A Presence
As maximalists, musicians, visualists, writers, recorders, samplers, photographers, filmers, etc., Denny Wilkerson Corsa and Zachary Corsa comprise the dynasty that is Lost Trail, but leave the mystery solely in their music. Gripping on an endless stream of drone-/noise-collage releases, they have now (potentially[, right?]) “found” themselves in Europe on Capri Records. In edition of 35 smokey-grey cassettes, set against handmade j-cards from 1960s postcards, How An Absence Creates A Presence brings another chapter of Lost Trail’s desire for meaning in the unknown. Where will YOU end up within their newest release? Scope their companion poem in the block-quote for a minimal sense of direction or intentional bewilderment, and listen to Lost Trail’s newest tape How An Absence Creates A Presence below it.
“Out here the gathered filaments of streets
are spider-webbed with asphalt patches,
where the slow fade of those fleeting ghost-years
and the raging of gray seasons’ precipitation
have thrown up the rolled stones from their base,
allowing the silvery weeds’ skyward ascent.
“This city is like a place where people go missing,
fiendishly whispered about at corner lunch-stands
and in the dust-washed waiting rooms of
the collapsing local offices,
where occasionally, at mid-day,
these sallow streets open up to
swallow somebody whole,
a life pulled down into depthless dark
and sealed within
as if they never walked in the sunlight.”
How An Absence Creates A Presence by Lost Trail is out NOW on Capri Records, so grip the reel!
Timeliness, right? Fuck that shit! Chances been out for a couple of months now, but did someone write about it? No. And would I care if they had? Also: No. Look, Tommy Metz was banging out beats in the Denver electronic underground when my typing fingers were still in their diapers, and here they are now, Choco’ing about how rad this “Wasteland” track is and how… just how happy it makes me. Find a more joyous jump through hyper-space, show it to me, and I’ll shove this one right back down your throat and tell you to get bent.
Tommy Metz is a longtime Bocumast (…label? …collective?) advocate/member/collaborator/artist and sine-wave manipulator in Denver, holding a number of guises — maybe most (in)famously as Iuengliss — and he might just be settling into his birth name here, ear-to-ear smile and all. Seriously, can you see him? What a happy, happy dude. You should only be this happy, always. And you can be… just keep clicking play. Again and again.
“All Ways Closer”
The video for Clipd Beaks’ new single “All Ways Closer” tells the tale of fictional pop star BECKI, who we witness put on makeup, drink wine, learn dance moves from a creepy mother figure, pose for pictures, shower in money, wear baseball hats, and ultimately meet her glittery demise. The film supplements the first single off Clipd Beaks’ new cassette EP Lost Offerings on Moon Glyph records. This cinematic accompaniment, directed by L.A. film group TEAN, matches the dizzying, gradually escalating pace of the Oakland trio’s psychedelic track, and it’s quite captivating. But don’t let the visuals distract you too much from the impeccable psych jam that’s underway. Wailing guitars, mumbling vocals, and hazy reverb make this one of the purest stoner jams I have heard in a while, whether BECKI is in the picture or not.
Give the video another go (it’ll make more sense the second time), and snag a copy of the cassette from Moon Glyph ASAP.
God of London
Life was terrible until Far Side Virtual. But things have since been pretty fucking adequate, despite any reminders that it isn’t at all. And today, things are even more adequate, with the sudden arrival of James Ferraro’s latest release: a three-song EP called God of London, released for free on SoundCloud.
The EP, which follows recent collaborations with Dean Blunt and Triad God, features some of Ferraro’s most arresting music yet, its lyrics — bruised inner thighs, cocaine in the snow, fake nose, Rolex teeth — resembling finally the disconnected poetry of his Twitter account.
Welcome to the Champagne Apocalypse.
• James Ferraro: http://twitter.com/LIL_ICEBUNNY