Wednesday, 29 April 2009


demonstrates the fear of isms. As Marcus Jacobs said, "fear is only in the heart of wasps". Suicide expunge fluidity in favour of what the builder knows - that of the linear, the powerfully unresolvable.

Such dogma is demonstrated especially (we might have already presumed) in the superfluous dynamism of 10min. chaperone, 'Frankie Teardrop'. That Vega breaks down, thinking only of his wife, worried that critical reinterpretation may divulge misogynism, can only forge the assumption that with all the delicate paranoia displayed in 'Girl', it is ferocious pain that is at the centre of T.S.Eliot's The Waste Land.

To supply, as Ben Williams has noted, a remix, flatulently titled as 'Cheree' owes much to the postmodernists, as Vega would have cried out. That several listeners have complained of tetanus whilst remaining 'beautiful' (as defined by the 2006 legal case) only barks at the bleak charm of this affluent benchmark.

-Dave Flat
(Pitchfork Media)

Jacobs, Marcus. Gary Hark: Scientologist. Oliver & Boyd, London. 1988.
Vega, Alan. What to Do with Blue Houred Smells. P. James, Devon. 1980.
Williams, Ben. The Mancunian Ape. Black Mountain, Ilinois. 1996.

Tuesday, 21 April 2009

hounds of hate

The London series continues...

Hounds of Hate sound like the neverending procrastination of a cracked download installation screen. With the understated beauty of a girlfriend that has happened to remix 3D Pinball: Space Cadet and not tell you about it, as well as the dreary dreams an 808 itself literally has around the r.e.m. point in sleep, it sounds like they're winning.

They slide somewhere inbetween the krautsy generosity of Parallels and the fearless minimal ambience of Fuck Buttons, playing strange games with cruisy tones in 'Little Glory', with Clatterbox moments in 'Phantasy' and being basically blissed-out in 'Tumble Down Slow'. Rick Deckard masturbation music.

Hounds of Hate - Tumble Down Slow

Saturday, 18 April 2009


Hip hop is about to get good again. DOOM is in a position where he could feasibly lead the way to a renaissance of classic Bronxian hip hop, with an emphasis on political activism over simply selling-out, which has been one of the key stylistic features of Lil Jon's bastard children, who have managed, over the decade, to mangle an aspirational, original genre into a piece of molten shit.

That MF Doom has cut his name down to just DOOM sounds utterly prophetic right now. Nowhere on Born Like This is this idea of world-falling-apart-to-a-stoic-beat more pronounced and great than it is on 'Cellz'. This is not to say the track is stuck in the past. What DOOM has done in this key, counterpoint track to the LP is manage to forge experimentation with lyrically taught, disease-ridden, eerie, cruisin beats. 'Cellz' may sound like half a sound installation by David Lynch (I jest - it's Charles Bukowski), but seriously, it's what we need right now.

Wednesday, 15 April 2009

fungi girls - CRYSTAL ROADS

I've been focusing on mostly UK bands lately, mainly because there is so much good shit out there, especially in Londres, (it's like everyone has realised they have some old songs written down in some old Wilko's pad and it's time to get the band together and remember that it was MUSIC they wanted to do with their lives after all, not fucking law) but for every good UK d.i.y. find there are at least 5 in the US. Let's explore that further...

Fungi Girls aren't even girls. To start. They're from Texas and they play shoegaze with moments of surf. Sounds good right? 'Crystal Roads' is a good example of this. Although they wear their influences on their sleeves - MBV, Jesus & MC or Flying Saucer Attack, they do something pretty awesome and promising with 'Crystal Roads'.

I especially love the waves of phased-out drums in this song, which sit nice 'n' awkwardly with the low vocals under the mix like sand under the sea. There are moments of scuffed fills that nod towards that kind of too-desperate speed My Bloody Valentine used to operate around. Fun face!

14.1 out of 10


Fungi Girls - Crystal Roads

Monday, 13 April 2009

-------------------------------------------------------things to make and do #1------------------------------------------------

Easter is fundementally boring. As my old man used to say, "you can't do shit with eggs". Me and my brother used to egg him in the FACE when he said this - with rotten eggs from last halloween. But it's true - Easter eggs only provoke 0.00000003 of the excitement of getting some ill christmas present. Just look at the N64 boy.

I spent my easter days fucking around with old newspapers from my grandmother's loft. I cut out a picture of some delightful prize-winning chick of sorts and made award-winning art out of it (above), and circled every 23rd word in the Journal Obituaries (a la The Number 23, keep up keep up) to absolutely no fucking avail (below). It was totally fun. DO IT.


Pork and Wine © Andrew D.S. 2009

black time

Are you... uh. Having a... good time tonight?
No. I'm having a BLACK TIME.

Black Time sound like the songs a 12-year-old Taiwanese boy would make up in his head on the way to Graceland, if they were converted directly into sound. In other words, they sound like rockabilly made by a violent skinhead on his day off. But with drum machines. I give up.

Black Time follow a similar logic to the early Grand Theft Auto developers (???!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!) - right! So GTA was originally made by a British company, so their vision of America was pretty skewed and more fun and fantastical. It's a similar thing with this delicious meal of a band - they sound like London punks that grew up listening to blues and now have a weird son-father relationship with it. It really works.

p.s. the example chosen here reflects none of this.


BLACK TIME - Skeleton Factory

Friday, 10 April 2009


Teeth are an absolute malfunction of mind and soul. Put limply, they sound like Aids Wolf beating the absolute fucking shit out of You Love Her Coz She's Dead. Utterly annoying, utterly infectious, their 'jams' are like cross country runs into a nebulous ball of energy, noise and soiled childrens' toys. 'Confusion' sounds like something gone violently wrong at an open mic night.

There is still room for harmony amongst the 4-on-teh-floor pummeling, as demonstrated in the chimey 'This Time', and even space for some propa RIFFSS, as in the eerily submerged-sounding 'Who's Afraid of Detroit?'. For now, here's a live version of 'Yacht'.


TEETH - Yacht (live)

Tuesday, 7 April 2009

trash kit, wetdog &

London, Laandhaan, Londres, the Town, land of Opium dens, cosmopolitan people and cognitive mapping. Here, simply, are 3 swell new/rising LDN bands.

Trash Kit are ultimate skilled-fun porridge riffs. 'Attack of the 50ft Woman' hits you like an indecisive old woman with her umbrella turned inside-out. I like them a lot because it's refreshing to hear the ammount of emphasis current bands are putting on percussion, and percussive evolution within a song - like Teeth or Male Bonding. 'New Face' especially is an infectious little love.

Wetdog are postfeminist postformalists and all the better for it. Definitely Slitsy, definitely sly, long, linear college harmonies and "exorcist vocals" make this band one to watch with your eyes. '8 Days' is an instant classic, with that immediate packing-up-ready-to-go-home bassline and judgemental twangs. 'Zah Und Zaheet' is like a riot grrrl march into the centre of the earth. Nice face, indeed. are equally at home with shameless fun like 'Tabbed Browsing' as they are with some seerius long, deep stuff. 'Uporm' is a surprising reflection of this, with eerie spoken word and art-damaged, Pavement-y chords. In a parallel universe it could've been a Xiu Xiu song. That's some praise right there.


WETDOG - 8 Days

This Summer

This summer you are going to be yourself, but not realise until you are into the thick of it.

This summer you find the den.

This summer, sex feels new.

This summer you will even consider fishing with your dad.

Strawberry plants look fascinating from cars.

Boats block lochs.

A tattoo is easy to watch as a film.

You know that photographers look for the magic hour.

You meet someone on the hill.

They have imperfect teeth, but it's up to you what you do after you realise this, only then.

DINO crashes through cars.

You listen to minidiscs.

You wear shorts in summer because summer is short.


Sunday, 5 April 2009

That Ghost

Bastardingly young Ryan Schmale takes DIY to a land of sunny sun sun dark surburbia trippin' home to the haunted house in his one man effort, That Ghost. 'Open Windows' especially sounds like a reflection on a perfect date, with images of summer and freaking out on the newly-cut grass for hours. He has a gift for harmony without any particular sentimentality - just honest polaroids of memorable times. 'Going Out When It's Warm at Night' is a particular french fancy of nice musical space, with cool, momentary vibes of Deerhoof's 'Dinner for Two' and wine bottles with candles in. 'Never Have Fun' is a particular staple of tightly shambolic groove smash on the decent drums and hot school hall guitar tones. One to drink orange squash thru a straw to.


Listen ~ That Ghost - Open Windows

That Ghost - Never Have Fun [mp3]
That Ghost - Going Out When It's Warm At Night [mp3]

Wednesday, 1 April 2009

Charlie Brooker

Gurning, Dickensian wanker Charlie Brooker seems an unlikely candidate to provide some kind of actual description to the barren landscape of anachronistic cuntery that our generation subsists on. But weirdly, the man that has blogged about nothing other than walking round the house in the dark thinking about what to blog about, has penned tv classics of our time, such as Nathan Barley, Screenwipe and its most recent spinoff, Newswipe. If you haven't caught Newswipe yet, basically do. It has all the sepulchral moaning of Screenwipe, except with a bloody and genuine desire to strangle the bullshit politics we live amongst. Bring on the summer of rage.