TurHkeE wit durkEE sawsse

Some upcoming December shows in Los Angeles for yez allsz.

Saturday Dec. 4th 6:00ish pm. on Origami Vinyl's loft.
1816 West Sunset Boulevard. dasts Eggo Parq mang. FREE admissions


Friday De. 10th 9:00ish pm. at Sancho/D.I.Y. Gallery
wit
Wildildlife(Crucial Blast/Seattle)
Chuck Dukowski Sextet
1549 W. Sunset Blvd. L.A., CA 90026. $10 donation. private party<>


I would like to take some time to thank Matthew Clark & Oliver Hall for filling the gap that Allen's presence usually occupies. We got to try out a bunch of newer material that would not have worked otherwise. Oliver offered the Dual LizzyVision guitar tarts the likes of which have been heard before but not with the group in question. Matthew also provided ample and subtle support to let the craxmen let they's hair loose like booty juice. These songs will probably be available on the next 'adrumb payng' solo effort to go no-werzz. coming out in da foochur.

Success in trying situations, Under the influence of Bob Dylan

some stuff we did in front of people the other night at a music performance space in downtown los angeles. like x.

Upcoming Autumn Shows

Saturday, September 11th
Hyperion Tavern
1941 Hyperion Avenue
Los Angeles, CA

Also Playing:
Daylong Valleys of the Nile (featuring members of Lavander Diamond)
Sedi Hollow (featuring members of Soggy Duchamp)

The doors open at 10pm with performances to follow shortly thereafter. FREE!
The Hyperion Tavern is a cash only establishment serving beer & cider, and is 21 & over.

October 10th. @ the Smell:

247 S. Main st. Downtown L.A.

With-

Mmoss(Burger Records)

Catwalk(Oxnard)

Haunted Tiger

$5

Miss September

Miss September

Mix Tape Partei Klub Warum...

This time out we've got a tender collation of visceral primitivism and head-dragging boogie bungle. Is there anything else to bullshit you all with? It's endless, endless. what else is there....i'm gonna start putting these shits up on my blog too, gone global...This mix is a tribute to Paul Kersey, deacon of destruction.

Won't You Try.

Brinsley Schwarz - Country Girl

Nice easy going Band-ish wailing from Nick Lowe & Co to kick things off. This was the first song I heard by B.S. and it still gives me some type of aural goosebumps.

Henske, Judy - High Flying Bird

I'm not the biggest fan of Judy, but like the previous song this was the first of hers that I ever heard and continues to be my favorite despite the higher adulation given to her freaky record made with then-husband Jerry Yester.

Stray - Only What You Make It

Standard fair from the UK hard torn blooze boogle bashers. Real deal working class bloke head banger shit. I have a soft spot for absolutely retarded chunk riffs and this one keeps 'em coming.

Blackfoot - It's Alright

Recently unearthed(I swear I'll never use that term again) Zambian 'fuzz' rock from an unknown year. late 70s most likely. These guys are much more groovin' than brothers-in-arms, The Witch & Amazan. I listened to this track about 100 times before getting to the rest of the album. A turnaround south African take on the Stones' take on Black American Country music. Simply fantastic.

Java Street Musicians - Hai Cium Dong (kroncong batawi)

From a Library Of Congress CD I checked from the Downtown LA library. I'm enamored with southeast asian vocal styles, but whenever i hear a hybrid of European instrumentation & Asian chord phrasing I'm absolutely smitten. I used to think I could only dream up a sound like this.

Boards Of Canada - Open The Light

A stalwart from my high school days. A perfect example of Boards' ability to attempt an audio recreation of a slowly developing polaroid picture & never quite getting ultimate clarity. They always evoke hidden spaces for me.

Universal Energy-Disco Energy (I)

Gaudy mustard synth background disco stuff from Germany no less. Late-night helicopter-ride-through-the-Black-Forest stuff here. It ends up fitting in with Italo stuff on some level, even if it lacks some bpms.

Black Sabbath -Junior's Eyes

Hot time slow-burner from later era Ozzy Sabbath. For all of the bands following their formula, I've yet to hear one take this groove over for themselves. Must be a sign.

Nolan Strong & The Diablos -Mind Over Matter

Motor City falsetto belter who could take Frankie Valli any day. My father always pointed out to me how white people could never get the falsetto thing down & right now I can't think of anyone to refute that claim.

The Moles-Already In Black

Darker tune from Richard Davies' Moles(mark II). Conjuring some early Floyd grunge riffage that could have been the set up for an entire album side, if they'd been a different band.

Matata -Gettin' Together

Groovy-groovy 70s Kenyan Funk recorded in the UK. This one is especially drippy, complete with-out-of-tune horns & incredible vocal ululations that make gag if I attempt in anyway.

Opal -Soul Giver

Just wish I could have been around to see these people do this in person. They still are an ultimate primer for the 90s space rock boom, shoegazer craze, & 00s shoegazer/space rock croom. Unfortunately, their share of followers end up taking away some of their thunder. Some consider their lone LP, SST's crowning moment.

Jefferson Airplane-Won't You Try / Saturday Afternoon

A huge influence on Mr. Roback's previously mentioned band. The Airplane had a veritably perfect combo of elements stacked on top of one another. Sex on record.

Asha Boshle & Pancham(aka R.D. Burnham)-Duniya Mein

It wasn't until a few years ago that I learned that MANY of Sun City Girls' records were COVER VERSIONS of 'ethnic' songs. I was slow on that one, & to make it even more confusing, they renamed the songs whatever they damn well pleased. Their version of this cut is on the '330,003 Crossdressers From Beyond The Rg Veda' triple LP which I heard first. Once getting jived to this track written by Bollywood Master Composer, R.D. Burman, it only helped me appreciate the SCGs genius even more. Anyway, this is from a Bollywood Soundtrack & it is awesome.

Izanzaren -Anmal

Closing things out is a popular 70s Moroccan group from the mountainous Berber area. Hardcore political commentary set to trad mountain road music. Not dissimilar in spirit and instrumentation(banjo/fiddle) to American mountain music.

http://www.sendspace.com/file/xdw3he

Modern Rock Nudism

Mexican Summer-->Kemado Records-->Hollywood Records-->Walt Disney Company.

No Indie. that's a Ron English

VERMALIFORNIA '10 U.S. TOUR w/ Happy Birthday

All shows are with Residual Echoes and Sub Pop Dawgs Happy Birthday(featuring members of WITCH, FEATHERS, RESIDUAL ECHOES, & the inimitable RUTH GARBUS)

Friday, July 16, 2010

Spaceland, Los Angeles CA

Sunday, July 18, 2010

San Luis Obispo Art Center, San Luis Obispo CA

Monday, July 19, 2010

Crepe Place, Santa Cruz CA

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Rickshaw Stop, San Francisco CA

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The Hub (CA), Sacramento CA

Saturday, July 24, 2010

TBA, Seattle WA

Sunday, July 25, 2010

Slabtown, Portland OR

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

Urban Lounge, Salt Lake City UT

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Hi-Dive, Denver CO

Thursday, July 29, 2010

Waiting Room, Omaha NE

Friday, July 30, 2010

Triple Rock Social Club, Minneapolis MN

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Cactus Club (WI), Milwaukee WI

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Wicker Park Fest, Chicago IL

Monday, August 2, 2010

Off Broadway, St Louis MO

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Replay Lounge, Lawrence KS

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Conservatory (OK), Oklahoma City OK

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Nightmare (TX), Dallas TX

Friday, August 6, 2010

United States Art Authority (TX), Austin TX

Saturday, August 7, 2010

Percolator (TX), El Paso TX

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Trunk Space, Phoenix AZ

Monday, August 9, 2010

TBA, Los Angeles, CA

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Tin Can Ale House, San Diego CA

Babylon USA

Bob Mould Soundcheck

I've long my life(12 years?) been interested in Bob Mould's musical endeavors. In high school I waited every month for the Pasadena CityCollege swap meet. It's where I learned how to find records and deal with the petty and pusillanimous purveyors of prefab rotundants of vinyl. One dreary April Sunday morn in the late 1990s, I woke at 6 to head north east. It was a good catch that day: "Kill 'Em All", "Pretties For You", "Crazy World of...", "Funketelechy", "Hot Rats", "Flyboys" & more importantly(to this post) "The Blasting Concept". Oh, how the Pettibon illustration made me cringe. The visual sentiments that Mr. P conjured up 20 years prior, still today manage to rest gently in my worldview. I barter for the Alice Cooper, Zappa and SST comp and talk the dude down to $15. (A fucking steal if you ask me, for a Blue-Label Bizarre 'Hot Rats' and any copy of 'Pretties'). This was a transitional period in my musical development(i guess they all are), I was reacquainting myself with Frank Zappa and more forms of black music, via Funkadelic & Ice Cube, and still unearthing certain punk bands that managed to peak my interest. I was moving beyond(not above!) the Chicago-style hardcore fair of the day which many friends were devotees of; Charles Bronson, K
ung Fu Rick, Los Crudos and their West coast(druggy) contemporaries; Dystopia, Phobia, Locust...

Driving home on the 2 freeway, L.A. has the ability to look not tawdry. The hills envelope the just-winding-enough road and offer the driver a peek of Downtown's skyscrapers from time to time. If the lighting is right one can feel a million miles away, slowly approaching

the end of the frontier, beholding Babylon in all of its horrifying and mystifying sense of denouement. It may have looked this way to me on this day through a probable haze of pot perfume stuck to the inside of my eyelids and permeating the windshield and leather interior of my 1986 navy blue Volvo 240 wagon, "Jodie"[r.i.p.], named so from the red and white JFA sticker plastered on the back bumper.

http://www.urbanity.es/foro/infraestructuras-inter

Inside my teenage bedroom, I had created my sad-sack-sanctuary. Bong behind the bed, record player sitting underneath the Zappa & Coltrane posters, stained grey carpeting. I wandered into the cathedral of my making, aloof from responsibility and any sort of emotional reality with living creatures. Most of my relating was done with these discs and the material contained on them. I listened to 'Hot Rats' first, i already owned the CD reissue, and was surprised at how fuzzy the vinyl sounded compared. Aha! Dust on the needle. Cleaned it, mouthed the guitar runs of 'Willie the Pimp' again and tossed it aside. I then proceeded to stuff my glo- in-th-dark bong's bowl with at least $15 worth of grass. I dropped the needle onto 'Paranoid Chant'. (To be honest I had

n't really enjoyed 'The Punch Line' the first time I heard the Minutemen and had even kept the cassette to remind myself never to by something I hadn't been assured was great[that record is in fact great but I was a stupid teenager].) Now this, my 2nd exposure to the Minutemen greeted my ears much more favorably, even with the intro bass and drum riff skipping. These Minutemen were faster leaner and without the plodding chunk of the 'Punch Line' which threw me off guard at first. I was definitely weirded out by Jack Brewer's madman ramblings over Baiza's spidery non-chords on Saccharine Trust's 'A Human Certainty'; one of the most uncompromising and alienating songs on the record, if not for the sheer fact that it's lyrics weren't directly about alienation/paranoia/frustration/etc. but painted an environment of desperation and hopelessness. And I can say here that I'd never heard anyone play the guitar that way before. "What about the Meat Puppets?" I'll cover them some other time.

I then smoked the grass and started side 2 to shake off Brewer's vibes. I knew all of the Flag stuff already so skipped straight to Overkill. This was the hardcore I was used to. A natural precursor to the really fast stuff from the Midwest of the 90s. Their track evoked a punk rock Twisted Sister picture the way I remember it. The Stains sounded a lot like the b

and I was in at age 14. Without the raging solos of course, and basically like a crappy Chavo-era Flag(the least best era). The song is called 'Get Revenge'. Wurm's tune completely escapes my memory now, and I have no idea if I've ever heard anything else by them. I'm sure it was 'heavy', since the 1st side of the record were weirdo bands, and side 2 was the hard shit.

This record was harsh. This record was unkind. The crackling and fluttering of the audio equivalent to specks of dust in my eyes really kept me going from song to song. Then for some reason the final track on this record had this crazy guitar riff that was MELODIC. To quote Brett Haskins of The Clash: 'Wait, Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?' An ape I became. This song freaked me out way more than anything else on this record. The guy's voice was so threadbare, and the music seemed more recalcitrant than the heavy groups in that it was actually a little bit catchy. All of this thrashing blanketed in the white hot sheet of static noise that you get at the end of an LP(you know what i'm talking about, where the grooves are closer together). So this was Husker Du huh? This is weird. The chorus on the guitar mixed with the yelling was so good to hear. I liked it very much. wait.....

That's right, I meant to talk about Bob Mould Soundcheck. This track originally was released on a cassette compilation as part of Tellus Audio Magazine series started in 1983 by Joseph Nechtvatal, Claudia Gould, & Carol Parkinson. Since I know very little concerning the 80s NY art camps, i'll suggest you check for more info about these cats here: http://www.harvestworks.org. Mould's track is from cassette #10. I only recently heard about this from my pal Bill Gray, who mentioned it in drunk passing a few weeks ago. I looked it up and am sharing it with ya'll.

This cut is everything I knew Bob Mould was capable of doing but to the casual listener of Husker Du/Sugar/Solo work, this would seem like an extremely unfitting audio document of such a wonderfully tuneful songsmith. However if you've ever heard 'Reoccurring Dreams', 'Plans I Make', 'Statues', or 'Wit & Wisdom' you'd be hard pressed to find finer examples of his pound rock fretboard abuse.

But with 'Soundcheck' he seems to be completely disconnected from himself and is in essence 'just dickin' around'. It's the release of the few inhibitions he may have had while performing live that he's able to let go the cosmic cumshot built up under his closeted tough guy veneer. I don't know what it was like being a closeted gay man in the 1980s involved in a prominent band that was involved in a very hetero-centric performance platform; in the tolerant U.S. nonetheless. This as an example of crisp and unadulterated expression that shoots for the moon. I was always hoping to hear this man lay down some serious Eddie Van Heino shreddage...

linker

http://www.sendspace.com/file/jb2guu

an audio letter from a girl to a boy

rainbow calypso - patti page disco

warner brother catnap - i'll never hold you to that

treat me w/ a little bit-o-ree-specked

hold it down, tie it off, and beat that

eat another sausage-flavored cough lozenge

carry me to cairo. we can take the open road

moog made the meat cry-apple bacon turnip fry

flyaway red-eye. to a city where i'll die

some really great opportunities

I didn't set this up. my cat loves foot wear. maybe it's because she's walking to her grave. 17 years old! I already miss her...Ella!!....

"None of the girls wanna touch me!"

I saw DC3 play at Exene Cervenka's clothing shop on Sunset

when I was 17. They played Hey Joe and some stuff I didn't recognize. I never had heard a DC3 record and still haven't. Thankfully he didn't have this mask on.

"One pill makes you..." ummm

My dad used to love telling me this story about the time he

met Grace Slick in an elevator. It was probably the Jefferson-Starship era. '75ish. The Airplane was one of his favorite bands in the 60s, saw 'em a grip of times at the Fillmore when he and my mom lived in NY. Slick was a fox! Stone-Cold! Anyhoo, my pop was going to his therapist/shrink/psychologist's office in what I'm assuming was mental health-type building. Up the elevator he goes, in walks Mizz Slick. He can't believe it. Of course he's in awe of her, can't stop adorning her with praise, loves the Airplane, thinks they're the shit...then realizes she's backing away into the corner of the elevator. "What does this Black Cowboy want from me!?" she probably thought. "He's gonna rope me up! I need some more COCAINE! AAAGHHH!" Of course she was FREAKING OUT. Wasn't his fault, her shrink probably had just told her to lay off the ludes and poppers. He eased off on the compliments and a few seconds later the door open and she smiled and said it was good to meet him, then bolted. True story.

Recording Dec 2009

Allen talking on his phone instead of playing the drums. this is the secret to our sound!

Greg at the digital laptop and Al texting or playing scrabble. this is the secret to our sound!

John Gray's right arm and back. Greg's back and Allen and puppy poster. the puppy is the secret to our sound!

A squirrel outside of my psychiatrist's office. this is the secret to our sound!

Line 6 Delay pedal and drumset. these weren't used on the recording. no secret there.

PIZZA, BROKEDOWN VANS, AND THE ART OF SKY FUCKING

dis be a repost of my old blog about the time I went and saw Liquorball.

I first experienced the Liquor Ball mystery in 2002 at the tender age of 19. I was in LA staying with my parents, and taking a week off from school at UC Santa Cruz...been changing in many ways since recently seeing Comets On Fire play for the first time in Santa Cruz This trip was for mellowing out cos I'd just had a really bad acid trip(my last) and thought I was gonna flip over the edge. So I basically just smoked pot the whole time and spent hours putting my records on cassette so I didn't have to haul them back to SC on the greyhound. My buddy David called me one afternoon with his buddy Trevor. "Hey dude; Comets are playing at the Smell tonight, we're picking you up." OKAY. They were on their way to San Diego or up from there. can't remember. Real pot fiends. I call up my high school buds Philthy Jew and Sebastian the Black to meet us there. Dave & Trevor roll up to my folks' house in a maroon Cadillac that smells like leather socks and we head downtown. Our heads full of green blasting Slayer music. Cut to the alley outside the dingy club. I see Phil and Sebs for the first time in a while. "Hey who else is playing this show?" Phil cracks and points over to a band of longhairs in the lot standing around a van. "That must be the Santa Cruz band…" Phil was a barrel of yucks. I could barely talk I was so high. "That's the guy I work with" Trevor points to some bearded freak eating a baguette with black puss, oozing out the bottom. Washing it down with a soff drink-"blurp blurp" in between gulps. The whole time this horrible sound is coming out of the "club?". I saunter in, and continue to saunter for what seems like miles cos the noise is so loud. It felt like trudging against 40 mph hot dusty Sahara winds while wearing snow gear and skis injected with mercury. It is a brown weird loud in the metal box club. The details are blurry. There's this fat bearded dude playing an out of tune WOODEN guitar thing on stage through an unholy assortment of pedals. Another slightly overweight fella playing I think just a bass drum and a snare and a cymbal. playing some hillbilly train track rhythms...each of his limbs is out of phase with the rest. Then to the left a beachy longhair dirty fuck, Hawaiian shirt and all, pounding the liquid snot out of his fender through his lions' share of smashboxes and stomptones. There's someone else, maybe two someone elses on stage too; but like a magnet I float right towards the guitar dude and close my eyes for the rest of their no-doubt-about-it-being-improvised set. maybe another twenty minutes. who knows. This was just what I needed to hear a week after the worst and last acid trip of my teens. Retarded purple dragon battles in zero gravity. Soupy smog filling up my lungs and head, swirling all around the room. Midget wizard demons seeping out of the walls and spinning around everyone's heads. Injecting us through the ears into the brains with their needles filled with wizard goo. blood and sweat and goo and note-snot dripping out the nose. Everyone's nose is cold. They finally find a good place to stop and let everyone off. All I said was "fug".

I went outside and asked Trevor's bearded co-worker Rick Rubin look-a-like what band that was. "Liquorball" he said in an earthy tone. "That was fucking terrible. Awesome. Thanks guy." I stumbled off back to David. Phil and Sebastian had left. Comets hadn't even played yet. Those fuks didn't know what they were missing. I had sweat out a lot of the pot by this point and had a better grasp on what was going on. That bearded guy I talked to was the guy from Comets on Fire setting up his amp. OH! They had a new drummer too. . This is about Liquorball so I won't mention their set right now other than that it was loud & great.

A few months later I stopped going to school and devoted all my time to playing music and making pizza. Both in Santa Cruz. I got Trevor's job and did it for quite some time. The first two weeks one of the guys was on tour so I had twice the shifts. I wondered why somebody in a band that toured was working in that dump. (I still ask dumb questions like that) One day ETHAN RETURNS TO WORK. Oh it's that guy from Comets. OK. "You rule dude."

I come back from a delivery and he's blasting this crazy speedfreak garage shit like I never heard in my life.

"What is this?"

"MONOSHOCK" he says. "Ever heard of Liquorball?"

"Maybe, I think I saw them with you guys once in LA"

"Oh yeah, it's mostly the same guys. But that show was just a one-off they don't really play anymore"

It made sense to me now. Monoshock was their jokey surf rock band and Liquorball was the real shit. Maybe the other way around. Either way my search started for anything on cd or vinyl by these jerks from the bay area who fucked me up for quite a while. I loved them for it. I didn't find it too hard to find stuff living an hour from their hometown of Oakland/SF, and working at the record store in Santa Cruz at the time.

liquorball - FUCKS THE SKY

monoshock - MODEL CITIZZEN(Nitroglycerine)

These slabs found their way into my lap not too long after I started looking. "Fucks the Sky" sounded to me like a special school Mudhoney cough syrup heavy jam session. "Model Citizen" was the punk rock 7" I always dreamed of hearing or making in high school. But none of these were quite as fukked up as the show I'd been too. There had to be a live album. It wasn't until two years later when I was in Seattle of all places I had found ANOTHER copy of FUCKS THE SKY amongst a few other things. I brought my stash(Beegees, Shepp, etc.) up to the counter and the guy goes apeshit when he gets to the LIQUORBALL rekid. "DUDE!!!! THIS BAND IS AWESOME. DO YOU HAVE THE LIVE ALBUM?" He'd said the magic words.

"No. I was hoping they had one." (This doesn't happen anymore)

"WE JUST GOT ONE IN WITH THE SAME BUY AS THAT ONE! YOU CAN HAVE IT IF YOU WANT. 10 bucks cos it's got the insert" GIMME!!!!! The copy I got smelled like shit and made everything it touched smell the same way. I think there's actually bird shit on the cover. COOL! AN INSERT. A torn out piece of porno. Thanks guys. The porn it came with is some workout fetish that looks like Olivia Newton John or some shit doing squat thrusts in the buck. I put it on cassette so I don't have to smell it or touch the porn every time I listen to it. This record; the music on it, the packaging, the smell, the sound, the texture; perfectly encapsulates that show I went to and is actually better musically cos there's this fukked up organ all over the thing. Someone told me it was Quintron. Someone told me it was the ghost of Sun Ra. Someone told me it was a friend of the band who had taken a bunch of LSD and had never played a note in his life. I like to think it's the last two. It's called "LIVE FROM HITLER'S BUNKER" but it doesn't say that anywhere on the sleeve or vinyl. Just LIQUORBALL LIVES on one label of the record. After the show Eva Braun loved it; Hitler yelled "Play sumpsink German or GET ZE FECK AUF ZE STAGE!!!" after the first 10 minutes. Then they did all squat thrusts with Grady.

LIQUORBALL - "Fucks The Sky" LP

LIQUORBALL - "Live At Hitler's Bunker" LP

(JW told me about the keyboard player)

pieces of master

Our record sounds amazing now that is has been mastered. As the afternoon reaches it's end, the window is open in my room. the door on my forehead is still closed but it's only a matter of time before the key presents itself. fuzz pedals aren't all they're cracked up to be. I hope to find truthfulness soon. its virtue is nothing short of necessary. we will be on the road soon. once the album had been released this summer. this is a good summer jam record. changes are happening all over. reality is everything. it all happens so it can happen. it is all there is which is nothing. artwork for the album should be finished soon too. eternal light.

-payne

yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

looks like a pretty lil' row of y's....I have not been nice to my blog here and have really neglected the poor sucker for a few months but gawnsarnit, this jerk's been busy. Not that anyone's reading this blog, YET! I'm nary opposed to the power of the internet, ya'll'll be knowing about what we do up to yer brims. Our record is now being mastered(picking it up tomorrow) and will be available next week! not really but it's the next step, right? then we need to make a myspace page. ummm. can we play a show with your band? i heard you're friends with ____. They're rad!....ohhhh....uh....so master? what'll be? oh yes mister master! Details soon! that's a good album title. Everything's a secret right now. updates to follow. come to our Borax Miners benefit show this Sunday at the smell. Men's Association Ma'am and Hiking and Green Eyes are also playing. Teutons!

-Payne