idiot control

i can't stop playing katamari damacy...

tony rettman played this hardcore band YDI on his show a while back and if all hardcore was as hardcore as this i would like more hardcore. guitar sounds like it's plugged into one of those 1970s entertainment consoles with walnut veneer and cardboard speaker cones, up all the way. all odd-order harmonics, no notes, tuned maybe. singer's batshit and pissed and he also happens to be, well, i guess i have some friends who are so i can say, but i don't want to be politically... BLACK! it's a BLACK GUY! there's your one-sheet bullet point!

the band is on that plain of sloppiness where it's all just always collapsing but it happens so quickly you don't notice it much; fuck jazz, and if i'm not clear on that fuck jazz because this is 'ecstatic' 'free' music even if it has riffs and you don't have to pretend it's visceral, it just is. and then on the lp (included in addition to the 7" and demo) they get all neat records 1983 (cf. any band named after war, war-related activities or implements). this and canadian speed metal from the 80s are keeping my brain twitchy enough to function.

the YDI (pr. "why die") album is called "out for blood" and it's on parts unknown records, and you'll need the link cause google puts them on like page 49 - 3 hours of my life wasted, the other 31 years were gold though.

cage the ragers!

air conditioning - weakness (level plane)

when i listen to air conditioning, it seems so obvious - why does no one else sound like this? why the fuck is everyone wasting their time in these fucking useless hippie drum circles, err, ecstatic 'free jazz' influenced 'improvised' 'music' 'collectives?' where is the ugliness? where is the emotion, any emotion? is "dicking around" now an emotion? twelve art students with rainsticks aren't going to do my head in, and i want the fucker done in. i want music that will leave a swathe of ruin 50 miles wide, that cures leprosy by causing leukemia. the sound of tunguska, the shriek of thousands of half-assed whiners perishing in flames clutching copies of "smile" and "oh me oh my*".

thus: air conditioning. the sound of 737s flying into every building on earth. eternal tension with no release, knots and clots and tendons everywhere. a mouthful of someone else's teeth. three instruments and voice all trying to pound themselves into the same hole, becoming an ugly, throbbing, grease-smeared monochord. the soundtrack of your life, if in your life you frequently find yourself washing blood, skin and hair off the front of your car at 3 am.

as the lady said, "thousands of windows burst open/and the alarm bells are broken."

* "hey davendra, you totally remind me of tyrannosaurus rex!"
"oh, really? thanks man, i love marc bolan."
"no, not the band, the dinosaur. because you've got faggy little arms and feed on carrion."