Dr Wommm's Medicine Cabinet

29 January 2006

Why?

I'm getting really fucking sick of this shit. Today, I should have been at K's housewarming, tucking into what sounded like some serious curry, getting pleasantly drunk and talking bollocks with good people. Instead I spent half the afternoon curled in a ball, shaking and crying after freaking out totally for no fucking reason whatsoever. What the fuck is going on? Why does this keep happening to me? I just feel so fucking stupid right now. Yeah, I've had a few setbacks lately but it's not like my life's shit, I've got some of the best friends anyone could wish for, I'm playing the best music of my life right now, my jobs great, I live in a wonderful part of a city I love. Life is good, so why the fuck do I feel like I'm falling apart at the seams?

26 January 2006

Vintage Electronic Porn

This beast is the GPS analogue computer. I don't care how cool yr custom built PC cases look, or how sexy yr Mac is, they're still digital, and therefore suck arse in comparison to this thing. I mean, would you rather program a computer by typing in shit all day or make like Floria Fricke with his big Moogs and get patching'n'twiddling? The other great thing is that if I could steal this fucker I could convert it, with very little fucking around, into an extremely unruly bastard of a synthesizer...

Pare El Aplastar De Mi Cabeza, O, ¿Conseguido Cualesquiera Largactil?

The last few days have been fucking horrible. The first real dark days in five months or so. Feels like my head's in a fucking vice. Can't get shit done at work, can't even derive any pleasure from insulting/patronising fuckwit architects who seem to believe that the role of an engineer is to circumvent the laws of physics as opposed to using them to achieve the desired result. Even mucking about with the analogue computer I've been trying to get my head round hasn't bought me the slightest fucking bit of technojoy.

At home it's even worse. Can't concentrate on anything, I've loads of emails and letters to write to friends overseas and I can't get past three words. can't even fucking get stoned 'cos that's just making me feel worse right now. I am so fucking sick of feeling like this, stranded, lonely, frustrated and hurt. I know it won't last forever, but that ain't the point, because when this happens it's really hard to remember what it's like when I'm not in this state, even though I was fine five days ago. I just feel like a total cunt right now and I'm really sorry if I've been a total arsehole or haven't returned yr call or whatever, just give me a few days and I'll be back to my "normal" self hopefully.

23 January 2006

Talking Of Black Metal...

KUALA LUMPUR, January 23, 2006 - Malaysia's highest Islamic authority on Monday, January 23, banned Muslims from taking part in a "satanic" heavy metal cult, which plays the blasphemous Black Metal genre.

The National Fatwa Council issued the religious edict against the "black metal cult" citing practices in which members stamp on the Noble Qur’an, drink alcohol and freely engage in sex, reported Agence France-Presse (AFP).

Council chair Shukor Husin said the cult's practices went against the teachings of Islam and could propel a Muslim out of the religion.

He asserted that authorities plan to enact new laws banning the music style, allowing prosecution of its Muslim followers.

"We are waiting for state religious authorities to gazette this fatwa under the Shari`ah crime enactment," Shukor was quoted as saying by the national Bernama news agency.

"We are trying to prevent any increase in our society in the number of such band members," Shukor said following a meeting by the council to investigate the issue.

He, however, made it clear that merely listening to heavy metal songs was not a crime.

Some 60 percent of Malaysia's 26 million people are ethnic Malay Muslims, who are subject to Islamic laws as well as the country's secular legal system.

The council's rulings don't affect the ethnic Chinese and Indian minorities, who are mainly Buddhists, Christians and Hindus.

Malaysian lawmakers in October called for an investigation into black metal music, accusing it of corrupting young people.

A religious official in northern Kedah state said authorities were worried about groups of teenage black metal fans, who wore black clothes and eye make-up and were prone to loitering in shopping malls.

Some people in Malaysia, a mostly Muslim nation, have urged authorities to clarify whether Muslims should shun the music after police on New Year's Eve detained some 380 revelers at a black metal concert in Kuala Lumpur for suspected drug use and other offenses.

Black metal is another form of hard metal, like death or trash metal, and is often associated with devil worship because of the dark symbols and clothes used by black metal bands.

The genre is known for its satanic or pagan influences and occult imagery.

It emerged in the early 1980s predating the great expansion of heavy metal extreme genres. Its name is a play on "Black Magic."

It roots belong to Norwegian guitarist Øystein Aarseth (1968–1993), who launched a blasphemous and anti-Christian campaign in Norway through songs that glorified Satan.

The music gained notoriety in Malaysia in 2001 after a series of media exposes on young black metal fans, including lurid stories about ritualistic practices such as drinking blood.

But Malaysian fans and black metal bands have defended the music, saying the rituals are harmless and part of the genre.

Malaysia remains on the lookout for deviant sects which veer from Islam, and authorities are sensitive about cultural or social influences that may affect Islamic religious practice.

Islam prohibits all forms of singing and music that incites debauchery, indecency, or sin.

(article from Islam Online)

Back In Black


Buy the new Darkthrone single, "Too Old Too Cold" (Peaceville), 'cos it's the very fucking hellhound's bollocks.

21 January 2006

If That's What Moonrocks Are Really Made Of, How Come Bobby Liebling And Jerry Garcia Didn't Build A Fucking Rocket?

According to this amazingly informative site, courtesy of the US government;

http://www.whitehousedrugpolicy.gov/streetterms/

apparently I'm a baker, and a sometime fiend who has just poked a kawaii electric juanita whilst candyflipping on a string. Yep, on a beautiful cold and brilliant day like today there's nothing like blowin' the roof off a mohasky gyve and hanging out with the zig-zag man on the dead road.

I'm gonna stay clear of the christmas trees an' the crush'n'rush tho, the last thing anyone wants is to end up hotrailing that oh-so-fuckin-good quartz or tweaking for the ol' red phosphorous...

You Never Know, This Could Come In Handy Someday

Perhaps you've had a little deflagration accident in yr home meth lab, or y're finding that that huge, unsighlty blood trail down the corridor is putting guests off staying at yr motel. Still finding decomposing bits of viscera behind the dishwasher after that unfortunate dismemberment episode? Or maybe you just accidently spilt some smallpox down the sink. Never fear, whatever the problem, wherever you are, whenever you need 'em, just call this lot:

http://www.crimescenecleaners.com/

I wonder how much they'd charge me to come and clean my front room carpet...

Some Real Fuckin' Poetry

Go and listen to Under The Blade by Defleshed. Not only is it a killer slab of deathly thrash, but it contains some of the finest lyrics ever written:

I have sailed the seven seas
and did it very well
Created summer breeze
I thought you'd like the smell

That little beauty is from "Walking The Moons Of Mars", but probably the finest lyrical moment from The Lord Of Power & Pain (Gustav to his mates) is this gem from "Metallic Warlust"

Beauty is no more,
Loving has turned to war
We are here to score

Genius.

20 January 2006

Not What You Expect When The Doorbell Rings...

18 January 2006

Don't Hate Us Because We're Beautiful

Just to whet yr appetites, here's a picture of Mantouch at their hottest. The reason that there's a couple of people missing is simple. No camera, no matter how well made or high spec, could possibly hope to capture and convey the unbelievable masculine beauty of the entire groop...


(L to R): Raemonde Shine, AJ, Justice C, LeeeNite

Must...Kill...Computer...

Aaaaaaaaarrrggghhhhh. I will never buy a fucking PC again. Due to the actions of some friendless little virus writing shit who's never been laid somewhere out there in intergeek world I now have a large heavy metal box sitting on the floor at home that's about as much use as a perforated condom*. I can fix it, it's just going to take fucking ages and I could really do without the extra fucking hassle. I've got enough on my plate at the mo' and my time is expensive baby.

Plus it means I have to write this at work which means far too much looking over my shoulder to check my boss hasn't seen whatever drugfucked perversity has crawled out of my brain this time...

*Norton/Symantec can get fucked as well, not only did their crap firewall fail to prevent any of this shit happening, but the virus scanner was the first thing to go down after getting hacked...

15 January 2006

Insomnio Otra Vez

Goddamn it, all I want is a decent fucking nights sleep. More than an hour at a stretch would be nice. I arrived home last friday to discover that the bottom couple of feet of my front door had been smashed in. Nothing had been stolen, which was a fucking relief, maybe they got disturbed, maybe they looked at my front room and thought someone else had ransacked it first, fuck knows, but it left me shaken and angry and jumping at shadows. I'm proficient enough at fucking with my own head without cunts like whoever broke in adding to it. So now I can't sleep. My brain feels like it would if I'd been up for five days on Desoxyn and ran out a few hours ago. Tired, violently wired and cut through with a misanthropic streak wide enough to qualify as a shipping lane.

11 January 2006

Psychedelic Centenarian

I'd just like to wish Dr. Albert Hoffmann, the man who not only first synthesized d-Lysergic Acid Diethylamide, but also discovered just how hard it is to ride a bike when y're tripping, a very happy 100th birthday.

10 January 2006

Look At The Size Of Those Books

Yesterday, I finally managed to get a copy of Hunter S. Thompson and Ralph Steadmans "The Curse Of Lono" which in addition to containing some of the good Doctors most cruelly unhinged and surreal ranting, is graced by some of the most fantastically nasty and grotesquely beautiful Steadman cartoons I've seen. I'd been after a copy for years, but until those nice people at Taschen reipublished it, it's always been wildy expensive. So a very large thank you to them for making this monumental (it's about the size of a small gravestone) tome available again.

If they could see their way clear to republishing the most utterly bonkers book (like Lono, also the size of something quite large indeed) I've ever clapped eyes on, Codex Seraphinianus by Luigi Serafini, I'd be eternally grateful, because the cheapest edition I've found was about $270... An Italian designer and architect, he created this masterpiece of psychedelic insanity during the late 70s, 300-odd pages of extremely surreal coloured pencil drawings, with commentaries on the diagrams in an undecipherable alien language, the pages numbered in the same writing system, seemingly in base 22. Why, I have no idea. It's just an utterly beautiful and deeply strange piece of work. As I hope you'll agree after enjoying a few entries from this encylopedia for a parallel dimension...









A Question

When did Rolf Harris come up with the wobbleboard? I only ask because there's one on the song "Hot House Of Omagararshid" by The Yardbirds, from the LP Roger The Engineer (1966), and if they got the idea from Rolf I feel that he should take his rightful place in the proto-psychedelia pantheon alongside Tommy Hall, virtuoso jug blower from The 13th Floor Elevators, as these two instruments represent two of the earliest manifestations in rock of the urge to wibble, wub and wommm yr way to cosmic transcendence...

05 January 2006

I've Just Noticed That...

One of the blokes in Yat-Kha, the geezer with the midrangey voice, really sounds like Alan Partridge.

03 January 2006

Psychedelinihilisticalcofucknarcosis

Is the working name for my latest metal project, and after the long, stuttering death of TH, one I'm determined to get dead fucking right. The name, in case you were wondering, which you probably weren't, came to me after Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious got stuck in my head whilst listening to Sun Ra's (not very good) Tribute To Walt Disney. But I think it's a pretty good name, it certainly lets you know exactly what y're in for musically. No arseing around this time (well, maybe a bit) just psyched out angular deathgrinddoom horror with all the gutpuking and deathgrunting you could wish for. I've found a suitably octupus like drummer, now all we're after is a bassist. Preferably on with three arms. Or one, like Cat Butt's slide guitarist. Or, even better, one with a hook for a hand like the bloke who used to be in Shiver*. No bastards with 5 or 6 string basses need apply. Don't ask me why, I just loathe those things, they reek of muso fusion wankery and session musician hell, and they look fucking silly**

*Stupidly obscure late 60s/ear;y 70s San Francisco hard psych merchants. Check 'em out...

**I know I play a seven string, like my heroes Steve Vai and Head'n'Munky from Korn***, but this is my band and I'll make up the fucking rules. Talking of those tits Korn, check out Head's website, he's a born-again fuckwit, sorry, christian now and he wants to tell you all about it. He's a total wanker, but it's fucking funny. Here's the address, even this makes me laugh...

http://www.headtochrist.com/

***Seriously though, Steve Vai just makes me laugh, particularly when he plays Satan in Crossroads and loses a guitar duel to the Karate Kid, but the Korn twats need a good slap, and to take the advice of the Green Cross Code man and Stop, Look and Listen to themselves. Or maybe just stop...

Two Thousand And F(uck Off)ive Or, The Year I Rejoined The Human Race

In many ways I'd dearly love to consign a large proportion of 2005 to the dustbin. If it was wine I was talking about you'd have flogged it to a vinegar company, not what you'd describe as a classic vintage, to put it mildly.

The first seven or eight months were among the worst in my life, lost, detatched, isolated in my own fucked-up head, I went through life on autopilot, only really feeling alive in the company of a few people, or when making music. It was fucking horrible, and there's a few people I'll never be able to thank enough, because if it weren't for their friendship, love and support I don't think I'd be typing this right now.

Even if I had the power to erase 2005 though, I wouldn't, couldn't do it. Around about August/September when I hit my lowest trough, something had to crack. I thought it would be me, and it was, though not in remotely the way I expected. Instead of going into total meltdown, as I would have a few years ago, some part of my brain just seemed to go; "Fuck This. No Fucking More, I Can't Live Like This", and since then things have been getting better.

How, or why this happened I don't know and don't want to know, because monumentally self-defeating self-analysis is one of my worst habits, but fortunately one I've managed to kick now, all I know is, after that time of the year, the confusion started to lessen and life started to make sense in a way it hadn't for quite some time.

If you'd have told me at any point in the first half of '05 that the prospect of talking to someone I didn't know would no longer fill me with dread, that I'd actually be able to relate to people again I'd have laughed in yr face. If you'd have told me that I'd actually meet someone, I'd have said y're fucking crazier than I am. But both those things happened, much to my astonishment. The fact that we broke up a little while ago and I didn't plunge straight back down into the pit is a good thing too, not that I'm not gutted about it, but I didn't react in the wildly disproportionate manner I would've done in the past. Plus she kicks arse and I'd hate to lose her as a friend, which would definitely have happened if it had been the me of a year ago.

Last year life had me by the throat. This year I'm going to throttle the bastard for all it's worth.

02 January 2006

No Bung! Zone

I must add one more record to my 2005 favorites list; This Elegy, His Autopsy by Beecher (Earache). One of the most beautifully original, insanely convoluted, headspinning albums to grace my speakers for some time. Like the Red Chord and Cephalic Carnage, Beecher manange to avoid the main pitfall of so much of this music, namely sounding like they've written 500 riffs but completely forgot to find a coherent way of making actual songs out of 'em. No matter how angular it gets, no matter how arcane the time siganture at any particular moment, Beecher music FLOWS and, unlike the band who they're most often (unfairly) compared to, Dillinger Escape Plan, the jaw-dropping level of technique this music requires reamins where it should be, in the background, unnoticed. Beechers is a quiet kind of virtuosity, never the focus of the music, a means to and end, instead of an end in itself.

Beautifully produced ny Converge's Kurt Ballou, it's one of the best sounding albums of this ilk ever. If there's one thing which has always fucking bugged the shit out of me about extreme metal/hardcore/whatever it's the drum sound. Biscuit tin snares (Bung!), gating and compression robbing the toms and kicks of their natural resonance, reducing them to lifeless clicks and thuds, removing any trace of dynamics, cymbals nothing but vaguely clanking, hissing things*. No such problems here. The drums are full, fat and resonant, and more importantly, heavy as fucking hell. It actually sounds like a real fucking drum kit, which is an all too rare occurence.

The other thing Beecher do so well is to incorporate electronics and synths into their music far more seemlessly than any other comparable band with the possible exception of Old Man Gloom, Cephalic Carnage or Knut, but it's a much more integral component of their sound than with CC, lending them an almost space rock quality at times, brewing up a power electronic storm to match Whitehouse at others, but never coming across as sonic icing.

There's something about their overall sound which is curiously english-sounding too, primarily beacause of their guitar sounds, there's a good old fashioned mid-range crunch to them that you seldom come across in the recordings of their american contemporaries who seem to favour that high-gain, scooped out tone which while admittedly great for fast riffing, sounds thin and bloodless when played cleaner, and lends many bands a curiously anonymous edge, both because of it's ubiquity and the fact that the frequencies which most determine the timbre of a guitar are primarily in the mid-range, so if y're using massive amounts of gain and cutting the mid it's fucking hard not to sound like everyone else who does the same. In many ways this album is produced in manner more akin to a great rock recording than a metal or hardcore record and that's one of it's great strengths. The use of cleaner guitar sounds in some of the more dissonant passages combined with a willingness to abuse effects pedals you rarely encounter with musicians in this sphere, suggest a love for Sonic Youth, MBV and their ilk too, which can only be a good thing.

I'm not going to single out particular tracks, except to say that "It's Great Weather For Black Leather" is my favourite song title of the year, because this record is best listened to right through, the way it flows from track to track giving the impression of a single, through composed work instead of a disparate collection of songs. Suffice to say I'm fucking impressed.

*More drum complaints:

1. Scott Burns has an awful lot to answer for.

2. Don't get me started on triggers, if yr drummer can't do it without triggers, get a new fucking drummer. One who can tune his fucking kit too...

3. If the engineer/producer tells you it has to be that gated/whatever beacuse it's so dense/fast/whatever that it'll sound like mush, tell them to do their job properly or fuck off and we'll get a new producer. It can be done as this record and much of Steve Albini's engineering work proves. It just takes skill, ears and patience, qualities which seem to be sadly lacking in too many engineers today. Check out Victory Intolerance Mastery by Revenge, no triggers, no over-gating, just unbelievably fast blastbeats with a big fat sound you could knock a fucking wall down with. See, told you, don't it sound better like that?