Friday, 31 July 2009

ye olde maids


Two things happen on finding new bands, both of which mean nothing. If you're me you can have the huge guffaw at the badness that you then come to love (like Suicide or something) OR the simpler nicer option of just 'yes, I'm so glad someone is doing this'. Although often they're the same thing t4k0b7k257-7bl5745l7-b45 Whatever, I'm hungover. Do my work for me.

Philadelphia's Ye Olde Maids have a welcome gaggle of songs that veer from scuzz to shoegaze. Their most prominent sound is one of the submerging electronic wash, warm, crusty synths and thin melodies. They operate like the bridge between a synth-purist version of Blank Dogs and shoegaze proper. Shit at explaining. Should give this up some time.

Andrewwwwwwwwwwww

P.S. their stuff is on Art Fag.
P.P.S. I like writing P.S.

Ye Olde Maids - Cocoa Cherub

Wednesday, 29 July 2009

buried in time: come on kill(her) zine


Several years ago, when MySpace was blooming like a flower, fucked endlessly into a myopic post-rape trance by the pollen-stealing, mugger-rapist-bee called trend*, there was a young girl from Canada called Emma W, and she sent me her work for no monies.

Her zine - Come On Killer - was a kind of temptation map for psychotics considering the serial kill as a job, amongst awesomely prophetic interviews with the likes of Crystal Castles and the now defunct Travels with My Aunt. Best of all was the healthy obsession with a barage of propoganda calling for the cold-blooded murder of Kate Moss, which erred on the erotic. Thank you, COK, for making working at the cinema tolerable.

Andrew

(click to make it big one. how long have you been using the internet for?)

*what


Tuesday, 28 July 2009

naked on the vague


Well kill my dick, it's aanly blady Naked on the Vague! Shrimp on the barbie //////// Shrimp on the barbie ////////

Sydney's Naked on the Vague make new moods out of old meat. Definitely malevolent, practically danceable and surprisingly diverse, this pair make noise collage stuck soundly somewhere between sense and evil. I shouldn't really (I know! you keep telling me...) draw comparisons between Liars again, but NOTV's stuff has the freshness of They Were Wrong So We Drowned with a whole new element that makes you like it more. Dunno what it is though. Anyway, LOVESING this-----\/down arrow

Andrew
Naked on the Vague - Old Leader

Sunday, 19 July 2009












Kelsea waits outside. Paper plates fall from the upstairs windows. The house is full of people.

Emma holds her arms out.

They hug.

‘Thank you.’ Kelsea says.

‘That’s okay.’ Emma says.

*

Jack is looking into the barbeque. His face is wet.

He looks up.

Emma and Kelsea walk across the living room carpet and through the French doors.

‘Hey!’ Jack says. He squints in the sun. He shields his eyes.

‘Hey Jack.’ Emma says. She smiles. ‘This is Kelsea.’

They hug.

‘Hey.’ Jack says.

A football sails across the sky.

Jack smiles. He makes a face. ‘Are you guys hungry?’ he asks.

He lifts up the lid of the barbeque. There are dozens of items. ‘We’ve got quite a lot of stuff.’ he says.

Kelsea laughs.

Jack stares at her. He has red hair and brown eyes. Kelsea feels he is quite ugly.

Jack stares at her. ‘Do you eat meat?’ he asks.

Someone puts on some music.

‘No. Sorry.’ Kelsea says. She shakes her head.

‘Okay.’ Jack says. He smiles weakly. ‘I’ll make some vegetable kebabs.’

He looks into the barbeque. His face is wet.

He stares at her. ‘Do you like peppers?’

*

James is playing a Fender Telecaster in the living room. Kelsea stares at him.

‘What can you play?’ Becky asks. Becky has short brown hair. She tucks her hair behind her ear. She wears a short kilt.

‘Can you play Nirvana?’ Kelsea asks.

James scowls. ‘Of course I can play Nirvana.’ he says. ‘What do you think I am, retarded?’

He looks at Becky and almost laughs. He twitches his nose.

Kelsea leaves the room quickly.

*

Birds call and are answered. The sun shines brightly.

Emma is sunbathing.

Jack glances at Kelsea from the barbeque as she walks by. She walks across the lawn to Emma.

‘Hi.’ she says.

Emma turns over.

‘Hey. How’s it going?’ she asks. She drinks her drink. ‘You should take that hat off if you want to impress James.’

‘Why?’ Kelsea asks.

‘Um.’ Emma says. She sits up.

A squirrel squawks from behind the fence.

Emma rubs sun cream into her thighs.

‘Want some?’ she asks.

Emma wears a striped bikini. Kelsea feels she has an amazing figure.

‘Have you got a–’ Emma says. She tucks her hair behind her ear. She looks at the grass and puts the suncream down. ‘Bikini underneath?’ she asks. She looks up. She squints in the sun.

‘No.’ Kelsea says. She can smell suncream.

‘Just wear your bra and knickers then.’ Emma says. ‘In some ways that’s sexier.’ She smiles.

Kelsea feels she is being sympathetic.

‘My stitches will show.’ Kelsea says. She creases her eyebrows.

‘Are you okay?’ Emma asks.

‘I’m fine.’ Kelsea says. She gulps. She sits on a seat cover, lying in the grass.

An aeroplane pans overhead.

‘Are these from the dining room?’ Kelsea asks.

Someone calls from upstairs. Dereck runs with a water pistol.

‘How bad are your scars?’ Emma asks.

‘Not too bad.’ Kelsea pulls up her white shirt.

‘Is that your school shirt?’ Emma asks.

‘Yeah.’ Kelsea says.

Emma creases her eyebrows. ‘I like it.’ she says.

Emma looks at the line of stitches on Kelsea’s hip.

‘Nasty.’ she says. ‘Why didn’t you want to show me before?’ she asks.

‘They were green.’ Kelsea says.

Emma closes her eyes. ‘That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.’ she says.

Kelsea suddenly feels disgusting.

Rory screams from the upstairs bathroom.

A window closes.

‘Take that hat off!’ Emma says suddenly. She leans over to Kelsea. She pulls off the baseball cap.

There is a thick bandage on the side of Kelsea’s scalp.

‘Kelsea!’ Emma expostulates. ‘It looks horrible.’

Kelsea closes her eyes. ‘I know.’ she says.

‘I think it’s seeping through.’ Emma says. She grimaces.

Kelsea blinks.

Her blood glistens in the sunlight.

‘That’s why I’ve got the hat.’ Kelsea says. ‘If I touch it I fall unconscious.’

‘Shouldn’t you be in hospital?’ Emma asks. She stretches her legs out on the towel.

The sun shines along the roof of Jack’s house.

The television aerial sways in the light breeze.

Becky walks across the living room carpet and through the French doors. She laughs and looks down at herself. Her chest is covered in water. Kelsea sighs. She knows Becky looks beautiful.

Rory sits on the wall, smoking. He wears a tee with a tiger on the front.

‘Shouldn’t you be in hospital?’ Emma asks. She rests her head on her knees.

‘No.’ Kelsea says. ‘There’s nothing they can do.’

‘Have you told them that touching it makes you unconscious?’ Emma asks. She looks in her handbag.

We Have All the Time in the World by Louis Armstrong comes on.

‘I’m just going to talk to Rory.’ Kelsea says. ‘He looks lonely.’

She squints.

Emma smiles. ‘Cool.’ she says. She smiles. ‘Do it.’

Kelsea nods.

Rory looks up at Kelsea. He looks to his left.

Smoke blows around his face.

He squints.

‘Having a good time?’ Kelsea asks. She smiles.

‘No.’ Rory says. ‘I can’t believe I came.’

He inhales.

He exhales.

‘Why?’ Kelsea asks. She shifts her hat on her head.

Rory shakes his head. His brown hair wobbles. Kelsea feels a need to entertain him.

‘Dude.’ she says.

Rory creases his eyebrows. He looks up at her.

‘Have you seen my stitches?’ Kelsea asks.

Rory almost laughs. ‘No?’ he says.

‘Do you want to?’ Kelsea asks. She makes a face.

‘Sure.’ Rory says.

Kelsea pulls up her white shirt.

Rory smiles. He looks at her. Her blonde hair hangs behind her ears. The sun shines through her hair. ‘That’s gnarly.’ he says.

He looks at her. ‘How did you get it?’ he asks.

‘Fell down some stairs when I was visiting my brother at uni.’ she says.

‘It’s a pretty sick cut.’ Rory says. ‘It’ll leave a big scar.’

Kelsea nods.

‘Do you want to go inside?’ Rory asks.

Kelsea nods dramatically. She feels moved.

She watches Rory walk inside. She follows him. She scratches her head.

*

The ambulance pulls up to the house. Everyone is sitting on the front lawn, silently.

Rory leans across the lawn. Emma sees him as a flash of red and white.

‘Can I come?’ he asks.

Emma looks at him. She is wearing khaki shorts and a Cambridge university hoodie.

Emma shakes her head. ‘No, I think it’s best for you to not come.’

She turns to look at the ambulance. She stands up straight. Two men walk towards the lawn.

*

One black woman and two white men are in the ambulance. The driver is speeding.

The woman nods.

‘Thank God.’ Emma says. She shakes her head.

Emma looks out the back window. An old woman is driving behind them, getting further away.

‘Did you go to Cambridge?’ the woman asks. She stares at Emma.

‘No, this is my sister’s. I’m only 16.’ Emma says. She clasps her hands.

*

A father and son stand outside the hospital. The father has grey hair, scraped back. The son has black hair, scraped back.

The sun shines along the side of the building. It is early in the evening.

They walk towards the hospital in silence.

There is a ward on the ground floor. The father looks through the window. A nurse puts down a tray. She looks confused.

The father looks at his son. ‘Let’s try the next window.’ he says.

The son nods.

An old man lies in bed. A mechanical ventilator is to his left. A blood bag is to his right.

There is an unattended crash cart at the end of the bed.

The father stares through the blinds. ‘I’ll be like that one day, son.’ he says. He looks up. ‘So brace yourself.’

The son nods.

They walk to the next window in silence.

A young girl lies asleep in bed. She has blonde hair. She has green eyes. There is a thick bandage on the side of her scalp.

The father and son stare through the blinds.

He looks at his son.

‘She’s about your age.’ he says.

The son creases his eyebrows.

‘Poor girl.’ the father says.

They stare through the blinds.

‘What happened?’ the son asks.

‘Probably took a tumble.’ the father says. He looks at his son. ‘Nice looking isn’t she?’

‘Dad.’ the son says.

A crow flies down from the roof. ‘I’m just saying.’ the father says. ‘She’s pretty.’

Cars drive by.

The son stares through the blinds.

Cars drive by.

‘Have you fallen in love with her?’ the father asks.

The son stares at him.

‘I’m just saying.’ the father says. ‘It can happen very quickly.’

2009

Saturday, 18 July 2009

while u wait

When experiencing a lack of good new music, and when even gorilla vs bear fails to offer any new remixes of remixes of which inspire solace and when American Apparel offer no admirable raunch of note, it's nice to indulge in wild tangents.

Listen ~ Bach - Concerto in E Major, Movement III


Painting: Willian Holman Hunt - Light of the World

Saturday, 11 July 2009

foot village

He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life. He shampooed my life.

Oo! Foot Village! Heard about these lovers a while back. It's party-friendly "drum 'n' shout" from Hollywood, in part like if Boredoms had a WHOLE DAY on the drums to experiment. Strangely danceable AND... outstandingly fun.

Andrew x0

Watch ~ FOOT VILLAGE - Erecting the Wall of Seperation

Foot Village - "Erecting the Wall of Separation" from Deathbomb Arc on Vimeo.

Sunday, 5 July 2009

buried in time: alan licht & aki onda


This might be the first part of a series about bands around the Jewelled Antler collective founded in 1999, but equally I might not bother. It's up to me you see.

Jewelled Antler were unfortunately early pioneers of natural-based drone, field recordings and general public baiting filth. The many artists that were linked to them on the web of the spider did things like building "crude harps built from fallen trees" (Wikipedia, 2009. p1234). They were so devoted to the idea of making music so earthy that the CD-Rs they distributed were actually covered in soil*. The artists also use(d) pinecones as percussive instruments.

Yes! It's good. This is a track from Family Vineyard's Alan Licht and Aki Onda - very Fat Cat, very early noughties, quite electronic considering I've been banging on about nature, but certainly woody and bilingual - with the French bit at the end. Bring me nice nightmares SeƱor Dave.

Love Andy

*no

Alan Licht and Aki Onda

Painting: Willian Holman Hunt - The Lady of Sha