Full Metal Jackoff

I've had a fun weekend, which is good, 'cos I was in a bit of a arsey mood after a week of office politics bullshit. Why do people indulge in petty empire building when y're all supposed to be pulling in the same direction? That shit bugs me, no one wants to spend a third of their time at work. so why make everyones lives more difficult by indulging in unnecessary intrigues, backstabbing and finger pointing? Answers on a postcard please...

But as I was saying, a good weekend. A Friday night spent working yr way thru JCPs local off-licences range of real ales whilst getting stoned and indulging in ludicrous synthesizaur* duels (think Rick Wakeman vs Keith Emerson on 80s home keyboards both with one hand tied behind their back and y're halfway there) using all the most tasteless sounds we could find is a good way to work out yr job related stress.

On Saturday, I'd like to have been building a snowman in Italy, but seeing as I was here, I went to see Khanate that evening, who were great, but for reasons forthcoming, didn't quite hit that regressive and psychotic deathly cold antigroove which characterises their finest moments, both live and on record. Tim Wyskia's slow motion drum fusillades were fucking awesome, the slamming of an osmium coffin lid on top of a casket containing everything you cherish, just as it should be. Jim (neatest beard in Metal) Plotkin's bass was as sub as you like, crawling and grasping like a legless zombie from The Beyond. As far as Doom rhythm sections go, their only equal is Om, but whereas Al Cisneros and Chris Hakius sound like the churning of the planets mantle, Wyskia and Plotkin are more akin to the inexorable progress of a glacier thru rock, the sound of the crust cracking. Alan Dubin however, sounded a little subdued (by his standards anyway). His voice seemed to lack it's usual frenzied edge, that certain frozen, bitter violence of tone that he unleashes on record which makes you think jesus, I'm glad I'm not you. But then again, I suppose you can't expect such a flatlined intensity every gig, I mean, that shit has got to hurt... It could have been that, or the fact his vocals were more processed than usual, which sounded cool, but did detract slightly from the laser like focus that Khanate have at their peak. The guitar though, was just bit too warm, too rounded sounding and loose around the edges, smothering as opposed to bludgeoning, giving some of the riffs a Sleep-like feel which didn't quite sit right with the absolute precision of the rhythm section. Whether it was the mix or Stephen O'Malley's choice of guitar tone, it just didn't smack you in the throat leaving you gasping for breath the way it should... They were still pretty fucking good though.

Couldn't sleep when I got home though so I recorded some more necropornblues. In the bathroom. Well, in the bath to be precise (not with any water in it, that would have been foolish and the cenobitic banjo could get rusty). Sitting in the bath with my legs hanging over the side, a microphone tied to the shower rail, drinking wine, doing something foul to Blind Lemon Jefferson's See That My Grave Is Kept Clean and several versions of Little Red Rooster which together form possibly the most drunkenly obsecene and sacreligeous things I have ever recorded. Which a. pleases me greatly and b. means they require editing into a single version and have extra guitar solos added. When I've finish a few of these I shall post them somewhere for yr listening edification and you can all have a good laugh/slag me off/heap praise upon my shoulders... One thing though, I'm normally really good at fucking stupid band names, but I'm still trying to come up with a dumb enough one for this shit. So, if you have any good names for a foulmouthed debaser of classic blues songs let me know, an Octodog for the winner...

Sunday? Dunno, slept thru most of it.

Oh, and another thing. There's one other musical project I've been dying to get together for fucking years and I'm looking for as many people as possible for it. The First Luciferian Tabernacle Gospel Choir. Exactly like proper gospel but givin' it up for Satan. I can't believe no one's done it before, and if we live in a world where (I'm not kidding) Christian Black Metal exists, well frankly I think it's time for some Satanic Gospel.

I should probably go now. But I may be back again later. I've noticed that drinking Crianza makes me write. Fuck knows why, maybe certain Riojas contain a specific chemical which stimulates the parts of the brain which make me want to bang on about stuff. Bit like coke, only cheaper and less rubbish...

*It's meant to be spelt like that - I must get round to explaining the Memnochian Way at some point.

¿Por Qué Hay Tan Muchos Los Ingenieros Sonido De La Mierda?

What the fuck is wrong with (most) live sound engineers? Last night I went to see Black Mountain, a band I'm particularly fond of (although they don't quite fill me with the same kind of glee that their alter-ego Pink Mountaintops does...), and who, in a reasonable venue and with half-decent sound would be fucking excellent live. Unfortunately they played at the Scala, an ex-cinema, ex-snooker club fucking barn with a sound engineer who seems to have learnt their trade by reading a lot of theory books but didn't take into account that the fact that not having any fucking ears might be a slight drawback in their chosen profession. And, this is not the first gig I've been to there where the sheer ineptitude of the engineer completely shot to shit any chance of really losing yrself in the music. Don't even get me started on what High On Fire, one of the greatest live bands on the face of the planet, sounded like when they had the misfortune to play at the Scala. You couldn't actually tell what notes Matt Pike was playing unless you got close to the guitar amp. But, as I was saying...

Complaint No.1 - The most appaling drum sound I've heard in quite some time. What kind of an arsehole gives a band who owe a fair amount rhythmically to The Velvets a drum sound that I can only describe as a disturbing cross between 80s Phil Collins gated reverb hell and compressed to within an inch of it's life shit clicky 80s metal drums? Wanker. The snare sounded like a bucket full of nails being kicked around the bottom of a well. The fact that the drums were four times louder than anything else wasn't really that helpful either...

Complaint No.2 - Far too fucking quiet. You know a gig's too quiet when you can hear the hissing of the dry ice machine over the loud bits.

Complaint No.3 - There's a Prophet 5 synthesizer on stage. We'd quite like to able to hear as well as look at it's analoguey wonderfulness. So turn the fucking thing up. Now turn the guitar up too. Jesus, how fucking hard can it be to mix this shit?

Not that hard, is the honest answer. I've engineered fuck knows how many bands, in places like the Forum to the tiniest shithole you can think of and if I'd ever made someone sound that bad I'd have cut my ears off and handed them to the band as an apology.

I'm not sure if the engineer was genuinely shit, or just fucking lazy. Frankly I don't care. There's far too many live engineers out there like this, it's not just the Scala. (There's a few brilliant ones out there too, don't get me wrong, count yrself lucky if you get Shari behind the desk, she'll shout at you, but you'll sound fuckin' great) It really pisses me off, I'm so sick of potentially great gigs ruined by crap sound. Like I say, it's not that hard. All you have to do is concentrate and listen hard. Oh, and it also helps if you actually care about what you do, because otherwise we (bands and audiences) are all fucked. The act of creating music live isn't just down to the people on stage, in a big venue especially, everyone's at the mercy of the engineer. You don't hang a beautiful painting in a lightless cellar do you?

So do us all a favour. Give a shit and do yr job or fuck off.

Man This Is Some Good Shit

Go here and listen to this lot. Why? Not only do they kick arse, but they'll make you shake it too. Plus they also have Ray Dickaty on horns who is a thoroughly top bloke and one of the finest musicians I've had the pleasure of making music with. So go on. Trust me, I'm a doctor.

http://www.livingbrain.co.uk/zukanican.htm

Be Slighty Afraid, Because You're Going To Have To Listen To This Soon

I have been doing something constructive today. In between garlic trances and writing bollocks on this blog I've been recording a selection of blues with a side order of deep wrong on my recently accquired Cenobitic Banjo. As yet it hasn't shot hooks into my hands as I play. Maybe I just haven't played the right combination of notes....

It's a fucking strange instrument. (I'd post a picture but that would involve moving and that's out of the question at the moment) Teardrop shaped chrome body, National Steel single cone resonator that's had astonundingly detailed semi-abstract plant designs carved on it front and back by someone either possessed of infinite patience or a meth habit. It's got a very long thin neck, eight strings and sounds about a thousand years old, the clanking, barking result of some half blind half mad alchemists investigations into metallurgy and the transformative powers of resonance.

Played with a bottleneck it whines and rattles like wind thru a gibbet. This is a seriously necro instrument. I also find myself wanting to sing when I play this fucker. And that is surprising given that in all the years I've been making music my voice has been captured on tape (discounting death metal grunting and arseing around) once and once only, and there's about thirty other people singing on that track. Damn, I'm not mad keen on even hearing my speaking voice on tape, but fuck it, if this instrument makes me want to sing then sing I fucking will.

So I have been. Playing the fuck out of this thing, ripping my fingers to shit, rasping out the words to Death Letter by Son House and the like in my syndol-slurred coldcroak. And you know what? I think it sounds alright.

Neutralise The Threat Of Frankfurter Death

Apparently, eating hotdogs can be dangerous. Fortunately there's a company out there who want to save you from this invidious terror. These caring people make an easy to use machine which turns yr frankfurter into an octopus. Which is a pretty neat trick. Although I'm not sure how transmogrifying an innocent sausage into an intelligent tool using eight limbed seabeast represents a major leap forward in public safety.

http://www.octodog.net/index.htm

Gorgeous Blue Flower

I'm sitting here with Th' Faith Healers blaring out of the speakers, after eating a large amount of roast garlic. I have a cold, but I don't care, because there ain't no cold in the world that can withstand the awesome power of garlic. Especially when the special garlic powers are enhanced by a borderline vitamin c overdose and copious amounts of Syndol (the painkiller which turns you into a weeble). Later I shall eat a fantastically huge amount of chicken jalfrezi and drink brandy. This combination (Faith Healers records optional) is guaranteed to knock the shit out of any cold.

The reason I mention Th' Faith Healers is cos although I always loved 'em, I haven't listened to them in fucking ages. Normally, unless I have some perverse reason for hanging on to it, a record not listened to is a record that gets flogged or exchanged for one that's not just adding to the immense amount of crap that fills my flat. Th' Faith Healers stuff though, I've never been able to part with, even though I haven't listened to L' for 5 years or so. Till yesterday when I was gripped with a desperate urge to listen to it.

Don't get me wrong, this is not a nostalgia trip, I'd just forgotten how damn good, and original, Th' Faith Healers were. I'd also forgotten that I can't stay still when their music is playing, it's got an electric momentum that wires itself straight into yr central nervous system and makes it move.

No one quite sounded like 'em either. It took some group to meld a sound that at times could give Skullflower or Terminal Cheesecake a run for its money with a sublime melodic krautpop sensibilty without diluting either. Joe Dilwoth's drumming in Stereolab was functional at best, but when he played with this lot his loping motorik grooves were just Right, lauching what could have been just another noisy Camden band into an altogether more psychedelically irresitible place. Makes me want to fucking dance anyway.

Aavikko

I've just worked out why I love Aavikko. They put me in mind of those adverts you used to get at the cinema for the local italian restaurant or minicab firm. You know the ones. Filmed in juddery super8 with a voiceover along the lines of; "Feeling hungry after the movie? Why not try Luigi's?", at which point a totally different voice would cut in and say "Only two hundred yards from this cinema" then it just grinds to an embarrassing halt before the somewhat agressive and shouty King Cone advert. Aavikko sound like that.

Return Of The Grinning Fool

I know I haven't written anything for a while. There's a number of reasons for this, but it's mainly because I've been too damn busy. I'd tell you all about Lewes, but the photos on Flickr (look for the Lewes Bonfire Night group) describe the evenings events far more eloquently than I ever could. Suffice to say that if you combine the effects of large amounts of weissbier and rum with good skunk and shroom honey, then stir in the worlds best fireworks, a 30 foot exploding Charles Clark, flaming crosses, a scarily fucking huge bonfire and the complete insanity of the after-parade y're pretty much guaranteed a good time, especially when y're surrounded by a number of the best people in the world.

So that was a fantastic weekend, as it always is. But not a patch on last weekend which was a bit fucking special to say the least. A few days in the rather lovely city of Bologna (home to the gayest statue of Neptune on Earth) in the company of someone who makes me very happy...

And so, inevitably, to music. I'm pleased to report that I am once again making music with JCP, who I've played with in a number of ensembles, most notably Madam Uruks House Of Correction, Superfluid, Mantouch and Now, but it's been a while since we collaborated on something. You lucky people will soon get to witness the majestic glory of Maireya Vs Perinium in full flow. Two Men. A Really Tiny Drumkit. Synthesizers. Guitars. No Shame. Erectro Motolik Minimalisummm. A bit like Neu! only more handsome.

Star In A Jar, Morgen und Nite's latest, is (and I'm not normally one to blow my own trumpet - mainly cos it plays merry hell with my lower spine) pretty fucking hot. Seriously though, I'm really proud of this one. We've nailed the sound of The Great Neon Road Drill which came through the ceiling at Filey the night the moon exploded* We'll be on the Scaledown show on Resonance FM on December 2nd too, talking about god knows what and playing our set from the September Scaledown. Electric live sets coming soon too, more details when I'm sober enough to remember them.

As I write this I'm listening to Aavikko's magnificent albums Derek and Multi Muysic which I urge you to get yr hands on in anyway possible, along with the rest of Aavikko's back catalogue. Finnish tiki-trash at it's absolute finest, plus you can't go far wrong with a band that calls an album Derek. I defy anyone not to smile within 10 seconds of an Aavikko track starting. Particulary if it's Eye Of The Leopard, my favourite song of the moment. It's so wrong it's utterly right. From the "Hoo! Haa! Leopard!" chant intro, through the stomping casiofunk East German disco from hell main section to the moog polka ska breakdowns and the chorus which features the naffest eurovision chord sequence ever, it's a stone fucking killer. And the next time I dj, you lot are going to dance like twats to it.

More later. I can feel I have a cold coming on, so I have to go and buy cognac.

*I hope y're not looking down here in the hope of finding a sensible explanation of the above sentence.

More Bile Soon, But First, Here's My Favourite Word

Plinth.