Educated Cuts

Balearic Assassins of Love @ The Roomz

Hurston Krebs

Outsider musicians can be the product of damaged DNA, lack of fruit, alien abduction, drug fry, demonic possession, or simply sheer barking madness. To pin down an exact definition of Outsider Music is like trying to turn a piece of charcoal into a twig. If you define it as music that is outside the mainstream music industry, then that could include anything from punk to polka, wiffle to wallpaper or psyche-morgenmuffels to timorous beastie.

If you define it as music that is recorded not for popular consumption, then that too is not exactly correct, since Outsider musicians often dream (perhaps delusionally) of mainstream success. If Outsider music is defined in relation to Outsider Art, then it has to be put in the context of music that is created by people who are mentally imbalanced (for that is what Outsider Art was originally meant to define: the artwork made by asylum patients).

Milty F Gulbicki, whose musical repertoire was recorded by the activities director at the Texas Nursing Home where he was a resident, is surely a classic example of this definition. His cassette only release, ‘Crayons Sure Taste Good To Me’, is a classic of the Outsider Music genre and would have surely reached a wider audience were it not for the fact that Milty destroyed all the existing copies by tearing-up the spools and made a ‘birds nest’ out of them, in which he lived until his untimely death in 1974 from a bizarre stork mating ritual.

But not all Outsider musicians are asylum patients. Some seem more like novelty acts, but at the same time it is also wrong to define Outsider musicians as simply novelty acts because Outsider musicians are not necessarily "in" on the joke, so to speak. Before violinist Hopeton Jayhawk had his breakdown he spoke of his music as, ‘Wandering across so many applique meadows and quilted shores, under skies crisp with rhinestone shooting stars. Feeding lambs and dinosaurs to serpents and horses. Christian fish, Buddhist cats and real ducks braced for a deluge of modish Jesus worship and hippie fundamentalism. Jagged bands of mountains and cold skies, that purely American assemblage of bottlecaps, broken glass, soft polyester filled animal forms and my violin. That is certainly not a novelty.’

The only undeniable unifying aspect of Outsider music is its genuine expression of feelings, ideas, emotions, etc., that can't be effectively expressed otherwise.

There have been many outsider musicians, both prominent and obscure who have been profiled in the past, but none as obscure and eccentric as the recently re-discovered, Hurston Krebs. Long thought to have disappeared into the vapour of history, his strange life story is slowly beginning to unravel once more.  The only thing Krebs, a self-taught artist, had in common with other outsider musicians was an utter lack of conventional tunefulness and an overabundance of earnestness and passion, inventiveness and originality.

 

Hurston Krebs 1974

Saracen Records have just released a 12” EP of Krebs’ only known recorded output. The ‘Streaky, Spotted, Speckled and Spattered’ EP which, if truth be told, doesn’t offer much distinction between the "serious" avant-garde and the merely insane and talentless, but it is still worth buying.

‘Roly- Poly Looseness’ kicks off the EP with Krebs equating the bleakness of his home town Tuscaloosa, Alabama with the virility of beavers; the constriction of his jeans with a certain manifest destiny in his heart and a certain snobbishness with the folklore scene of Ebenezer Cemetery. All underpinned with Hurston’s grim Teutonic utterances. The music is assured, disturbed, and inaccessible.

 ‘Labyrinthine Woven Concerns’ follows with all the Byronic dandyism of the Romantic period for the first 30 seconds until Krebs begins to play and sing. He touches on the strictest rules of the Victorian bourgeoisie, concerning how many rings and what sort of shirt studs could be worn by a gentleman at what hour of the day, and what colour his gloves should be. Clearly this all mattered to Krebs.  His encroaching singing ‘style’ a counterpoint to the sound effects of a gurgling brook. By the end of the song Krebs sounds like he is drowning in that very gurgling brook.

The final song on the EP, ‘Fools and Puppets’ is Krebs’ homage to the blackmailers of Paris. The great epoch of haute couture power: of women waiting in a kind of despairing anticipation to find out what hating joke would be played on them this season. The song has what sounds like an accordion being rolled through a mangle whilst Krebs screams the word ‘Denim’ over and over again.

The only information on the record is a quote from an old friend of Krebs - himself a bearded loon known only as ‘Jonathan’, who would frequent shopping malls wearing the horsehair plumes of Huns, brilliantly dyed hide breeches of Franks and Visigoths and a brightly dyed medicine pouch inlaid with porcupine quills full of LSD.

‘’He (Krebs) was a stoic man to say the least, terse and contrite. His live set consisted of him creating these sweeping vistas of notes on a guitar with no discernible melody or key while a female compatriot traveling with him played a Theremin and wept into a jam jar.’’

The woman in question was thought to be Grace Ricketts, Krebs’s then wife. Jonathan continues,

 ‘Later in his life Krebs took to busking, playing his folky stuff on the melodian and singing unmellifluously like a raven’s caw. So one day he's busking and it's getting late-ish in the afternoon and a woman has been watching him for quite a few minutes. He decides to pack up and finishes his song. She continues to stand in front of him. He thinks she looks a little familiar but he can't quite place her. He asks "Er - do I know you?"

She says "Yes, I used to be married to you.''

Those seeking an introduction to the music of “non-musicians” (by the accepted standards music theory & mainstream taste) would be wise to pick up this EP as it offers a peek into the Outsider Music spectrum and the inner workings of Hurston Krebs amateur and very intriguing mind. Approach with a very open mind.

Hurston Krebs - The Streaky, Spotted, Speckled and Spattered EP out now on Saracen Records.

Crazy Covers Session: Brighton

 

We all love a cover version, especially if it's given a totally new spin, so I was really honoured to be invited to help Steve KIW kick-off his Crazy Covers Session in Brighton at the weekend. My BAOL partner and I managed to bypass the curfew by an hour or so, so we must have been doing something right.

 

 

My tunes in no particular order -

 

 

 

'Slave To The Rhythm' – The Shortwave Set (Grace Jones)

 

 

 

'Pegasus' – Temple Music (The Hollies)

 

 

 

'Locomotive Breath' – Atomic Forest (Jethro Tull)

 

 

'Vampire Blues' – Wooden Shjips (Neil Young)

 

 

'Summer (The First Time)' – Millie Jackson (Bobby Goldsboro)

 

 

'It’s All Over Now Baby Blue' – Them (Bob Dylan) 

 

 

 

'Hey Joe' – Johnny Hallyday (Jimi Hendrix)

 

 

'In The Midnight Hour' – Maloko (Wilson Pickett)

 

 

'On the Road Again' – Rockets (Canned Heat)

 

 

 

'Theme One' – Schizo Fun Addict (Van Der Graaf Generator)

 

 

 

'Lost In Music' – The Fall (Sister Sledge) Cog Sinister 12”

 

 

 

'Norwegian Wood' – Cornershop (The Beatles)

 'When I Was Born For The 7^th Time' LP

 

 

 

Dancin’ In The Streets – Grateful Dead (Martha and the Vandellas)

Arista 12”

 

 

 

'Song 2w'o – Zinger Meats Spry (Blur) Red Egyptian 7”

 

 

 

I’m A Believer – Robert Wyatt (The Monkees) Virgin 7”

 

 

 

'Wichita Lineman' – Johnny Harris (Glen Campbell)

 'Moments' WB LP

 

 

 

'Don’t Be Cruel' – Billy Swan (Elvis Presley)

Monument 7”

 

 

 

'From The Morning' – Beautify Junkyards (Nick Drake)

Fruits De Mer 7”

 

 

 

'Into The Groove' – Ciccone Youth (Madonna)

Blast First 12”

 

 

 

Tubular Bells – Billy Green and The Love Machine

(Mike Oldfield)

Dynamite Soul 7”

 

 

 

'Sweet Jane' – Cowboy Junkies (Lou Reed)

Cooking Vinyl 12”

 

 

 

 'Mrs Robinson '– The Lemonheads

(Simon and Garfunkel)

 

 

 

 'Gently Johnny' – Woodbine and Ivy Band

 (Paul Giovanni Wickerman OST)

Static Caravan 7”

 

 

 

Trois Gymnopedies – Gary Numan  (Erik Satie)

Beggars Banquet 7”

 

Love Will Tear Us Apart – The Swans (Joy Division) 12”

The Williams Fairey Band – What Time Is Love (KLF) 'Fuck The Millennium' Blast First 12”

Ziggy Stardust - Bauhaus  (David Bowie) Beggars Banquet 12”

Hair – James Last (Hair OST) Polydor LP

Blues For Brother George Jackson – Raw Deal (Archie Shepp) Straight Ahead 12”

Oh Dear What Can The Matter Be – Terry Callier (Trad.Nursery Rhyme) 'The New Folk Sound of Terry Callier' LP

Heroes – Nico (David Bowie) 'Drama of Exile', Aurra LP

Get Back – Deirdre Wilson Tabac (The Beatles) Jazzman 7”

Please Don’t Touch – Motorheadgirl School (Johnny Kid and The Pirates) Bronze Records 7”

Love Will Tear Us Apart – June Tabor & Oysterband (Joy Division) Topic Records 7”

The Hurdy Gurdy Man – Butthole Surfers (Donovan) Rough Trade 12”

There’s A Ghost In My House – The Fall (R Dean Taylor) Beggars Banquet 7”

No Regrets – Half Man Half Biscuit & Margi Clarke  (Edith Piaf) Probe Plus

Submerged Forest Bank Holiday All-Dayer

FUN YOUR EAR PRAGUE 2

 

'The Balearic Assassins Of Love – a hirsute raggle-taggle collective of vinyl junkies who worship at the altar of sunrise and sunset like Kicker-shod party druids. Forever on an eternal quest to slay the dragon of segregation and the pigeon of hole they gather frequently and mix together musical forms as diverse as hypno Latvian Acid Skiffle and mystic Tibetan yacht rock to create that ecl*ctic, highly danceable, don't care ‘last day of the holiday’ feel. With DJ monikers such as Sherman, King Sunny Ade P and Keep It Wheel, they share a commonality with the Beastie Boys - had they been born on Spike Island and never rapped - with a freestyle expression that seamlessly binds sporadic vinyl inspiration through technical flair and copious amounts of alcohol. Equally at home playing downtempo sunset and woodsmoke campervan sessions to happy times hands-in-the-air hay-bale raves, the BAOL straddle all genres like a well-heeled Achillea colossus in smiley T-shirt and Day-Glo poncho. Formed sometime in the last century the BAOL have played a huge amount of parties never repeating a set or compromising on venue; a beach front Acid drenched Scout hut, an ex-communist Prague nuclear bunker, the Lord Mayor 's Carnival, Primavera, strobe flecked Brighton basements, 10 hour sets on Hastings pier, Numerous North London clubs and Bars, sunset/sunrise sets in beautiful Sussex fields and Fawlty Towersesque hotel cellar bars, always with a smile and a laugh and a joke. Some people believe music is a matter of life and death, the Balearic Assassins of Love can assure you it is much, much more important than that. Expect the unexpected avaibable for bookings and ‘Ave IT!

A Life In The Day

 

An elderly record shop buyer was ready to retire. He told his employer of his plans to leave the vinyl purchasing business and live a more leisurely life with his wife enjoying his extended family, embroiling within capes and playing plenty of deck quoits. He would miss the pay cheque, but he needed to retire. They could get by.

The record shop owner was sorry to see his good worker go and asked if he could buy just one more collection of very rare vinyl as a personal favour. The record buyer said yes, but in time it was easy to see that his heart was not in his work anymore. He resorted to shoddy workmanship and bought inferior records. Instead of rare Sun Ra ‘Horo’ pieces he bought Steps; instead of Mellow Candle’s Swaddling songs he bought Leo Sayer; instead of Jason Crest’s Turquoise Tandem Cycle he bought, The Best of Jim Reeves; instead of The Madman Running Through the Fields by Dantalian’s Chariot he bought Mrs Mills; instead of Fire’s Father’s Name Is Dad he bought Now That’s What I Call Music 16, and instead of Rainbow’s Ffolly Sallies Forth he bought Chris de Burgh ‘A Retrospective.’ It was an unfortunate way to end a dedicated career. When the record buyer finished his work he placed all the pieces in a flight case and the employer came to inspect the vinyl.

His boss handed the flight case back to the record buyer, and said, ‘My Gift to you’. The record buyer was shocked! What a shame! If he had only known he was building his own collection, he would have done it all so differently. So it is with us.

We build our record collections a day at a time, often putting less than our best into the construction. A bit of mediocre Nu-Jazz here, a Charity shop Funky House 12” there; A bargin bin badly pressed bruk comp here and a dull ambient noodle there. Then with a shock we realise we have to live with the collection we have built. If we could do it over we’d do it differently. But we cannot go back. You are the buyer. Each day you nail a tune, score a piece of vinyl, or erect new shelves for more pieces. ‘A Record Collection is a do-it-yourself project someone has said: ‘Your selections and the choices you make today, build the collection you’ll live with tomorrow.

 

Let’s be careful out there!

Thick Robin and other Upfront Promos

 

• Thick Robin - 'The Chronic Aesthetic'. Creepy, misogynistic, and aboot five minutes too long, this R+B lite pile of bird excrement is the sound of a barrel being well and truly scraped and a bird feeder being well and truly fraped.
• Little Missy Molly Da Feckless Ho - ‘Let’s Titillate the Ghetto Voyeurs’ (Popinjay Zee Re-edit)'. Popinjay Zee demonstrates why he's the 'go-to-guy' for that 2013 eclectic sound. Cleverly samples Alien Sex Fiend's 'I Shoplift Kohl From Boots'.   
• DJ Ballcock and MC Leaky Raw Sewage – ‘New York Shit’ (Soil and Pump mix). The Hip Hop/Jazz/Gastroenteritis crossover tip revival starts here.
• Rennie Pilfering – ‘When I’m Cleaning Windows 2013’ (Natalie Imbruglia Mix). Trance, Trance, Trance Yourself Dizzy with this slab of lyrically eccentric rolling stock. 
• Benny Singh – ‘Can You Hear Benny Sing?’  Ex Tea cosy bothering Crossroads/Shropshire Doctors star embraces Sikhism in this broken beat electro-forensic spook fest.
• Tiger Lily Allen Key – ‘Retribution, No Remorse, No Repent’. Tiger Lily Allen Key, the scatty daughter of the professional idle layabout Johnny Lass Vegas sings about ‘getting even’ after her (ex) boyfriend unfriended her on Facebook.
• Toovar Dal – ‘Woman on Beach with Dog’ Ethereal, Tinnitus, Bonavox, and Daktari wallpaper all spring to mind in this wispy ode to all things Byron, Shelley, Keats, Rod, Jane and Freddy. 
• Bugz in the Arctic Monkeys – 'Bruk in the Dolls House (Hamble Mix)'  North Korean bootleg of the ‘Monkeys’ broken beat remix album. ‘Bet You Look Good in a Pair of Your Sister’s Chequered Deck Shoes’ is a particular favourite.
• The Orange Fleeced Jester Hat of Warrington and Runcorn- 'Street Drinking Man (Cabyll-Ushtey Mix)'  The cliché is the handrail of the human mind; all flats and houses in Paris have a view of the Eiffel Tower. The Orange Fleeced Jester Hat are a festival collective who sing about their ‘backs against the wall’ and ‘meths being good for you’.
• Torquemada's Thumb - ''Zombies, Dawn of the Bubble wrap'. Godawful pile of mouse droppings. The aural equivalent of the dental work in Marathon Man.
• 'San Antonio: The Real Sound of Ibiza'.  Rose and Crown Resident, DJ Chavette side-steps some of the more esoteric Balearic fare and goes straight for the mainstream jugular with surprisingly shit results.
• Storm Pestrels – 'In Jim Kerr We Trust'  Following on from the success of The Guillemots and The Chaffinches, The Storm Pestrels take the leftfield Simple Minds/Coldplay remit even further. Imagine Sun Ra covering, Don’t You Forget About Me, in a Digbeth squat.

West Exit Pirate Festival

Electric Stag July

Jack Whitehall and the Trustfund Hipsters Play Glastonbury

 

 

Jack Whitehall and the Trustfund Hipsters @ Glastonbury

 

What will the ‘Glasto’ moment of 2013 be? Mick Jagger cavorting on stage with a druken secretary from Cheam? Sir Bruce Forsythe dueting with Public Enemy on Sophisticated Bitch..? Discombobulate ripping the Dave Pearce tent a new one? Kenny Rogers Rascal, or George Osborne convincing Michael Evis that a few roads through his farm would ‘just about do the trick?’

 

Nope, none of the above. It’ll be Edith Long Bowmen interviewing Jack Whitehall and the Trustfund Hipsters, before they take to the Dermot-O’Dreary-X-Factor-Santander-O2 stage , in front of a VIP ‘invite-only’ audience of politicians, bankers, the landed gentry, BBC 2 wives, millionaires and a couple of wounded soldiers. Data charges will apply.

 

The band members play multiple instruments in live performances. Jack Whitehall foregoes his privileged Independent school upbringing at Marlboro Lights College and sits at a drum kit. The band uses bluegrass and folk instrumentation, such as banjo, upright bass, mandolin and piano, played with a rhythmic style based in alternative rock and folk. ‘These are possibly the instruments of our Father’s father’s fathers.’’  says Harry Zak Cooper-Porsha the bands bass player rather unconvincingly.

 

Much of Jack Whitehall and the Trustfund Hipsters lyrical content has a strong literary influence, their debut single, deriving from Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath. Rupert Benedict Fortisque, the bands guitarist has been quoted in interviews as saying, ‘We like totes relate to those sharecroppers, the Joads, in Grapes of Wrath being driven from their land in the book as our fathers too have lost money as shareholders. The storms of the dust bowl could be a metaphor for the storms we experienced as children if we didn’t pass grade 6 viola. The Battle Hymn of the Republic could almost be the song we walk on stage to, were it not for our choice of Dire Straits Money For Nothing’’.

 

The track Scotch Beef includes lines from the play ‘Glasgae Bhoys in the Hoody’, written by MC Ahreet Ya Bas, dealing with gang warfare on the streets of Govan. Jack Whitehall makes the connection with this and his father's beef farm in the highlands.

 

To be fair to them, though, the band are simply cultivating their own niche, even if it's obligatorily for them to hang up their instruments when it's time to take over their fathers business.

 

Jack Whitehall and the Trustfund Hipsters play Glastonbury on the 'Dermot-O’Dreary-X-Factor-Santander-O2 stage Saturday night and the  'Enver Hoxha Stage for self-managed, decentralised economy based upon autonomous self-regulating economic units and a decentralised mechanism of resource allocation and decision-making Stage' on Sunday night.

 

 

 

 

Discombobulate vs. Dead Mouse The Leet Prognosticator – ‘Visit Settle’

Discombobulate vs. Dead Mouse The Leet Prognosticator – ‘Visit Settle’

 

If UK dance music is about to become pop again, then this match made in heaven will surely lead the charge. Discombobulate’s rapid success in becoming one of the most talked-about dance acts in the country, and Dead Mouse The Leet Prognosticator’s ascent to the giddy heights of rave superstardom seem to have happened overnight. Both have ushered in a seismic shift in UK sugary-rushy-synthy-ravey-pop, without ever entering a club.

 

Frederick Discombobulate explains, ‘’Me and my bruv, Brandon were both working in McDonalds when a toddler accidently left their Speak and Spell Machine on the counter. We took the machine out on our fag break and started banging some sick shit out. One thing led to another and before we knew it we were dropping next level skills on a Teddy Touch and Tell machine, a Sinclair ZX-80, a Commodore 64 and an iRod’’.

 

When asked about their inspiration the duo are quite forthcoming, ‘’ We ain’t never been inside a club, bro. Can’t stand all those sweaty bastards jumping up and down looking like they’ve been electrocuted with Tasers, off their chops on yellow bentines, we’d rather stay at home and listen to Old School, like DJ Luck and MC Neat, and Craig David,  whilst playing Minecraft’’.  Brandon continues, ‘’As far as we’re concerned clubs are a waste of time. We ain’t party boys like Skrillo Pad and One Direction. I ain’t never heard of any of them names journalists always ask me about. Hacienda? That’s a type of burger innit? Zed Bias, a character from the Hobbit? Larry Levan, an actor in ‘enders, Ibiza, a type of motor, and Shoom, somewhere yer Granddad went  to pick up a bird and dance the samba, like wot they do on Strictly, innit?’

 

Dead Mouse the Leet Prognosticator’s identity has long been kept a secret from his fans. His oversized 1980’s Mouse head-shell cartridge mask shielding his face from prying eyes and dreadful theorising. Some assumed him to be the iconic rapper, Puffy Fetlock, others the Hungarian mime artist, Vinegar Bones; many believed him to be Roger Protz, the Trotskyite who escaped the ice pick to become one of the early founders of CAMRA, though most believed him to be Lips from Anvil attempting to forge (intended) a new musical direction without the cries of, ‘Play Long Stick Goes Boom, ya bastard!’ every night. 

 

Whoever Dead Mouse the Leet Prognosticator is however, it shouldn’t detract from the fact that along with Discombobulate, they have collaborated to produce a sophisticated piece of sugary-rushy-synthy-ravey-pop which will demolish hundreds of youth club discos all over the midlands. They borrow from all over the shop like a genre hungry moth trapped in a Light-emitting diode factory – their synths from drag, the snap of the snare from trap, the vocals from neo-shed, the beats from wriggle and the xylophones from plink.

 

Visit Settle starts with a woozy garridge beat, think Wookie on Quaaludes, before the sampled  pirate radio DJ voiceover  emotes, ‘Yo Visit Settle, Yo Yo Visit Settle, no finer place to put on the kettle….and have a brew’. . A mish-mash of dancey beats then come in and the biggest breakdown this side of Fry. It has elements of Discombobulate’s last album ‘Disambiguation’ alongside scatterings of Dead Mouse the Leet Prognosticator’s last 12”, ‘Airs and Graces in the Social Arena.’  It is a modern day trailblazing tune and catchy as hell.

 

But why the homage to the busy Yorkshire Dales market town of Settle? Is it a hot bed of sugary-rushy-synthy-ravey-pop fans out ‘til 11pm dancing inside melting pots of rampant abound?  Have the hardcore faces on the scene flocked there and put down their neo-roots? Brandon Discombobulate sets the record straight, ‘We often visit Settle with Dead Mouse the Leet Prognosticator. The Yorkshire Dales Falconry and Conservation Centre is next level shizzle. Malham Cove and Gordale  are sick, and Settle Play Barn is great for wet afternoons in the town.’

 

If UK dance music is about to become pop again, don’t miss this phenomenal cultural effect on dance music.

 

Visit Settle is out now

Working (Titles) For The Man.

'Working (Titles) For the Man'

 

Or :-

 

'''You’re Calling It What!!''   (Inadvisable Original Record Titles)

 

 

1.            Marvin Gaye – ‘Stick This Where the Sun Don’t Shine Berry Gordy’ (‘Here My Dear’)

 

2.            Bruno Mars – ‘Life on Mars’ – there isn’t, so ‘Unorthodox Jukebox’

 

3.            Peabo Bryson and Roberta Flack – ‘Tonight I Sellotape My Glove To You’. Peabo’s bizarre love token to Roberta was taken as an affront to personal facial space and altered. (‘Tonight I Celebrate My Love For You’)

 

4.            Femi Kuti – ‘Another DJ Comfort Break Meander’ ‘Shoki Shoki’

 

5.            Radiohead – ‘Irk the Stadiums’. Vast swathes of fans with blinkered tastes didn’t need this title to realize that Kid A wasn’t another Ok Computer. (‘Kid A’)

 

6.            Orbital – ‘The Slap-heads On the Door’. Brothers Hartnoll tried to demonstrate that there was always a humourous Goth element to their bleeps and squonks. (‘Snivilization’)

 

7.            David Bowie ‘Some Hipster Bastard’s Defaced Heroes!’  ‘The Next Day’

 

8.            The Stone Roses – ‘Led Zep VII’ ('The Second Coming of Jimmy Page' was also muted at one point)

 

9.            Joss Stone – ‘Some Whack Cornish Shit’. Premonitions of a future Mobo made Ms Stone believe in this working idea of a title.

 

10.          Babyshambles – ‘Just Say No’. Pete couldn’t, but the record company could. (‘Down In Albion’).

 

11.          JLS – ‘Pneumonia, Dysentery, Bronchitis and Trenchfoot’. JLS’s inadvisable concept album alerting kids to the dangers of First World War soldier’s afflictions was soon canned by the syrup police. (‘Outta This World’).

 

12.          Phil Collins – ‘Bring Me The Head Of My Local Painter and Decorator’. ‘No Jacket Required’ sounded less bitter from this diminutive Swiss tax-exile. 

 

13.          Coldplay – ‘Bedwetting Bondage Fans Of The world Untie’. Chris Martin’s self-depreciation fell on deaf ears at the record company.

 

14.          Miles Davis – ‘A Kind Of Album Even Non-Jazz Fans Will Like'. Davis’ gift for clairvoyance was still ignored for, ‘A Kind of Blue’.

 

15.         Daft Punk – ‘We Should Be So Lucky, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky, Lucky’.  ‘Random Access Memory’. 

 

16.          Arab Strap – ‘Caledonian Alky Drone Poems’. (‘Here We Go’)

 

17.          Elastica – ‘The Bootleg Stranglers’. (‘Connection’).

 

18.          Dave Pearce – ‘Flogging A Dead Horse 27’. (‘Funky House Anthems 27’).

 

19.          Sting – ‘Insufferable Tantrik Blue Navel Tendril Floss’ (‘The Soul Cages’)

 

20.        One Direction – ‘Tucked up In Bed, with Milky Drink and Sudafed’ ‘Up All Night’

 

21.          Oasis – ‘Look Gak in Anger’.. Self-important and deep within the K-hole the brothers Gallagher were advised that the new album should be retitled; ‘Standing on the Shoulder of Giants’

to detract from the fact that it was definitely no Definitely Maybe. How wrong they were.

 

22.         U2 – ‘Achtung! Bongos!’ Larry Mullen’s Percussive Concept Album recorded in Düsseldorf found no support amongst the rest of U2. (‘Achtung Baby’).

 

23.         Dido – ‘Dildo’. Post-Modernist pranks aplenty as the queen of bland misses the irony somewhat. (‘Life For Rent’)

 

24.      George Michael – ‘Gobble Gobble Gobble’. ‘Outside’ was a far more preferable title for Sony.

 

25.  Fish – ‘Vigil In A Wilderness Of Mirrors’ (‘Vigil In A Wilderness Of Mirrors’).

Electric Stag June

The Body Circus Presents Brazilica and Avastar

 

 

Qvasi Möd- Xhol

 

 

Qvasi Möd- Xhol!

 

Achtung Krautrock heads! An obscure Berlin pseudo-heavy freak-out rock band (formed 1968) with the accent on percussion, of whom we know very little, except having heard their contribution on the ‘BERLIN GEH WEG’ compilation on the ‘Kerching Gottsching’record label. Previously unreleased live recordings by this way-out-there, pioneering German band. Under-appreciated at the time, possibly due to their connections with  the Vandrugen Cotton Wool appreciation society.

 

Highly obscure live recordings from the psychedelic ghetto repressed on this limited edition clear vinyl 7” EP for Germany’s Record Bailout Day. ‘Qvasi Möd- Xhol’, who started life playing Music Cement as ‘Hands Und Fuss’, in the late sixties and then mutated into Mucky Grohl (and finally, just Xhol) as their sound developed to encompass hippified commune ‘pongfusion’ and post-"Soddom and Gomorrha" psychedelic dustbin man sound collages, on albums like "Galactic Cabbage" and the wonderfully titled "Ash Tray Tempel" (that one a classic krautrock freakfest document indeed, hence this new live collection's title of ‘Live’).

 

Four live cuts over two sides of one 7” disc (littered with spacey breakdowns from 1968 and '69, including a lengthy version of Eamon Dull's "Collapsing: Snivelling Warthogs" interpolated into Xhol's freeform "Burial Chamber Lanyard"). A second 10-minute cut, called "Hot Buttered Xhol", that features Wolfgang Minibus Moebius, utilising a drum machine and Douglas Baader-Meinhof Amps is a sonic rollercoaster of repetitive riffs and satirical freak outs. These archival recordings are great (‘Dr Schwitter’s Mitternacht’ - was originally for a radio broadcast but got stolen by the Stasi and used as an implement of torture), plus the sleevenotes on the back are full of Dr Hanz Geschieden’s case notes after lead singer Rafe Brandgeruch was committed to the Zoo Station Asylum in early 1970.

 

‘Tanz Der Phallus’ completes the four live cuts with its anarchist/socio-political bent as Brandgeruch yells over the proto-punk psyche wall of sound about his love of commune life, space-folk wispiness and teabags. ‘’All proper tea is theft’’, he shrieks repetitively over the sprawling psychedelic mess of a free form improv song which gradually meanders its way to a close encompassing the sound of a Suzuki being canned. Essential krautrock. In fact, one of the most interesting of its genre.

 

 

Strip Jack Naked

Once upon a time there lived a vain Fat House DJ whose only worry in life was to play the most upfront minimal house tunes he could find. He changed his tunes almost every hour and loved to show them off to his people.

      Word of the Fat House DJ’s refined habits spread over his website forum and beyond. Two scoundrels who had heard of the Fat House DJ’s vanity decided to take advantage of it. They introduced themselves at the Introductions page of the forum with a scheme in mind.

      "We are two very good Re-edits Producers and after many years of research we have invented an extraordinary method to produce a tune so minimal and fine that it sounds like silence. As a matter of fact it is silent to anyone who is too stupid and incompetent to appreciate its quality."

      The website moderator heard the scoundrel's strange story and sent for the cynical forum member. The cynical forum member notified the longest serving forum member who ran to the Fat House DJ and disclosed the incredible news. The Fat House DJ’s curiosity got the better of him and he decided to PM the two scoundrels.

      "Besides being silent, your House Highness, this tune will be mixed in beats and patterns created especially for you." The Fat House DJ gave the two men a bag of Gak in exchange for their promise to begin working on the tune immediately.

      "Just tell us what you need to get started and we'll give it to you." The two scoundrels asked for a laptop, piles of unreleased CDR pressure, more Gak and then pretended to begin working. The Fat House DJ thought he had spent his money quite well: in addition to getting a new extraordinary tune, he would discover which of his fans were ignorant and incompetent. A few days later, he called the old and wise, longest serving forum member, who was considered by everyone as a man with common sense.

      "Go and see how the work is proceeding," the Fat House DJ told him, "and come back to let me know."

      The longest serving forum member was welcomed by the two scoundrels.

      "We're almost finished, but we need a lot more Gak. Here, Excellency! Admire the sound colors, feel the minimal-ness!" The old longest serving forum member bent over the mixer and tried to hear the tune that was not there. He felt cold sweat on his forehead.

      "I can't hear anything," he thought. "If I hear nothing, that means I'm stupid! Or, worse, incompetent!" If the longest serving forum member admitted that he didn't hear anything, he would be discharged from the website.

      "What a marvelous minimal sound, he said then.”I'll certainly tell the Fat House DJ." The two scoundrels rubbed their hands gleefully. They had almost made it. More Gak was requested to finish the work.

      Finally, the Fat House DJ received the announcement that the two Re-edit DJ’s had come to preview the minimal house tune .

      "Come in," the Fat House DJ ordered. Even as they bowed, the two scoundrels pretended to be listening to the new tune.

      "Here it is your royal House Highness, the result of our labour," the scoundrels said. "We have worked night and day but, at last, the most beautiful minimal house tune in the world is ready for you. Listen to the beats and feel how fine they are." Of course the Fat House DJ did not hear any beats and could not feel anything like ‘House’. He panicked and felt like fainting. But luckily the computer chair was right behind him and he sat down. But when he realized that no one could know that he did not hear the tune, he felt better. Nobody could find out he was stupid and incompetent. And the Fat House DJ didn't know that everybody else around him thought and did the very same thing.

      The farce continued as the two scoundrels had foreseen it. Once they had taken the CDR out of the laptop, the two began cutting the air with their hands while hovering over the keyboard with their invisible re-editing skills.

      "Your House Highness, you'll have to take all your tunes out of your box to try and listen to the new one." The two scoundrels dropped the new tune into his player again and then held up their hands. The Fat House DJ was embarrassed but since none of his bystanders were, he felt relieved.

      "Yes, this is a beautiful tune and it sounds very good to me," the Fat House DJ said trying to look comfortable. "You've done a fine job."

      "Your House Majesty," the longest serving forum member said, "we have a request for you. The people have found out about this extraordinary tune and they are anxious to hear you play it in a club." The Fat House DJ was doubtful playing his silent tune to the people, but then he abandoned his fears. After all, no one would know about it except the ignorant and the incompetent.

      "All right," he said. "I will grant the people this privilege." He summoned his driver and a ceremonial parade to the club was formed.

A group of house fans stood at the very front of the decks in the club and anxiously scrutinized the faces of the people on the dancefloor. All the people had gathered in the main room, pushing and shoving to get a better listen. An applause welcomed the regal Fat House master. Everyone wanted to know how stupid or incompetent his or her neighbor was but, as the Fat House DJ span his new tune, a strange murmur rose from the crowd.  

      Everyone said, loud enough for the others to hear: "Check out the Fat House DJs new minimal tune. It’s beautiful!"

      "What a marvelous piece!"

      "And the beats! The beats of that beautiful Fabric type club tune! I have never heard anything like it in my life!" They all tried to conceal their disappointment at not being able to hear the tune, and since nobody was willing to admit his own stupidity and incompetence, they all behaved as the two scoundrels had predicted.

      A lad in the cloakroom, however, who had no important job and could only hear things which his ears reported to him, went up to the decks.

      "The Fat House DJ is playing nothing," he said.

      "Fool!" his boss reprimanded, running after him. "Don't talk nonsense!" He grabbed the lad’s arm and took him away. But the lad's remark, which had been heard by the bystanders, was repeated over and over again until everyone cried:

      "The cloakroom lad is right! The Fat House DJ is playing nothing! It's true!"

      The Fat House DJ realized that the people were right but could not admit to that. He though it better to continue the tune under the illusion that anyone who couldn't hear it was either stupid or incompetent. And he stood stiffly behind the decks, while behind him forum members held their hands in the air to the imaginary minimal house tune.

The Submerged Forest Presents 'John Barlycorn Must Die'

 

The character of John Barleycorn in the song is a personification of the important cereal crop barley and of the alcoholic beverages made from it, beer and whisky. In the song, John Barleycorn is represented as suffering attacks, death and indignities that correspond to the various stages of barley cultivation, such as reaping and malting.

Calling all Nautical Nihilists, Psyche Submariners, Acid Woodcraft Folk, Canterbury Scenesters, Migratory Beach Bums, Carpet Crawlers, Relentlessly Deranged Psychedelic Surfers, Neu Parasitoids, Pothead Mothers of Dementia, Crawling King Snakes, Dub Cabinet Key Keepers, Gentle Giants, Kosmische Pixies, Incredibly Strung-Out Bands, Crimson Kings, Peaking Light Crews, Iron Butterflies and Spiritual Forest Rangers, come and celebrate Jack in the Green.