Listen to that post-Skaters, delay-pedal swollen, HI-fi jamming programed in on “Toad Blinker.” Sculpture ain’t messing ‘round #legit. Secret is, I hate listening to any music I’d post on Chocolate Grinder in my car. Well, that’s not true. Fuck off, I’m a liar; it’s human @animalscan’tlie. Straight up car-talk, T.I. gotta stop with them remixes. I get it, DJ Envy was all like, “Yeah, I can hook you up, T.I. You got that scrill?” T.I. handed him all his prison savings, and now he feat. in joints MADE by Future and 2 Chainz, and *shudder* “Niggas in Paris.” Trap Muzik is better left with Trap-A-Holics. And if T.I. pulls his $$voodoo$$ on my boi Tyga… ‘_’ The LIE is a nightmare and the only lasting music on radio is rap. My consumption of rap is just as carnivorous as it is with all this “cassette-culture” fodder.
Yo, but what if all this were it? It’s clear we’ve been abandoned. Specifically, because we created the idea, word, and mindset (individually and as mank-ind) of being “abandoned.” Maybe it’s luck we’re not involved with everything else in the universe. If we avoid everything else in space, that means we can’t be FUCKING LEECHED by some T.I. sort of being. That’s that fucking real shit, too. Real as in being in front of you and you consuming it. Sculpture’s new Toad Blinker LP on Dekorder is best left for bedroom listens. It’s easy and includes a picture-disc or whatever.
Groovy Hiss? Gastro Histrionics? Gory Hummer? Get Hammered?
Gaz Howell’s first vinyl-bound solo venture is this, the Ground EP, and boy does it have gravity… colossal, crashing, sublime: gravity. Like, a whole planet’s worth of gravity. Following Modern Love’s knack for records that appropriate club soundscapes and mutate them into affirmations of music’s massive, earnest potency, the Ground EP doesn’t exactly overwhelm; it goes for something deeper, more fundamental. It churns bowels. It plugs you into a city’s worth of dissonance. I imagine that if the entirety of inanimate London became sentient and used The Underground and power lines as its instrument, the party would sound like this. So, check out the EP and how the track sequence is like peeling back layers of the crust and mantle, from the grinding rocks on “Ground” to the pulsing, neon magma on “Earth.”
Moon Glyph got shit on lock. In their glow orbits Buffalo Moon’s new album, Selva Surreal #outnow. It possesses this desert-science fiction aura with a hint, I SAY, a hint of jazz. And there will never be enough break dancing in this world to cure me of sax-sickness. But thanks to Landon Odle for trading me Wetsuit for my Sevens That Spells tape, I got laid last time I listened to Buffalo Moon.
- Check out the pit hair, *mm*
- See that sneaky/quick background snatch?
- Moses looks like the bassist from Personal and the Pizzas.
- Director of video probably was like, “Long movements, ya-dig? We can’t afford slow-mo. Kthxbye.”
- People were way self conscious about wrist fat #cue_dancers.
- One last thing before the credits: “All That She Wants” @Any1Else?
The dull light of ungoogleable Sex Church is shining through a black cloud of boring post-garage rock (mostly just sounds like regular old pop-punk, don’t it?). With what just might depose all your neo-Blink ilk, their new record Growing Over seems to send their ringing guitars and beaten rhythm section soaring up into the air to suck that extra energy from the heavens. Double monotone singing and a stamp that says “Load Records” ought to demonstrate that this is coming from the right place: burning punk dread, not happy-go-lucky youthfulness. But don’t get me wrong, sad punks know how to party: this is a jammer.
“Cash Mattress” (live on BATV’s Golden Sounds Series)
I sort of doubt Boston’s Neptune [full disclosure: my band has played shows with them in the past] timed the release of their new Silent Partner album to line up with most haunted houses’ opening weeks, but what the hell — let’s go with it. Art-rock in the most literal sense (every band member plays on home-crafted guitars, drums, and assorted knick-knacks built by head alchemist Jason Sanford), Neptune have banged through several lineup mutations since their inception back in nineteen-ninety-frickin’-four, going through probably more scrap metal than the Millennium Falcon. In this live performance video for “Cash Mattress” — a throbbing, roiling rumble of percussion and electronic bleepy-bloopery that puts the Neu! in Neubauten — the core duo of Sanford and Mark William Pearson are joined by new members Kevin Micka and Farhad Ebrahimi on drums and drum-type percussive implements (“aluminum discs and bowls” are actually listed in the starting lineup). They replace former percussionist Daniel Paul Boucher, who left for Arizona after the touring wound down for 2007’s color-schemed Gong Lake.
Silent Partner hit the streets October 11 on Northern-Spy. Neptune will be christening it with a release show at Union Pool today in New York.