Singles Week-end begins now

 UPDATE: This post was re-uploaded 12/22/2013. Enjoy, NØ.

Yes, boys & girls, it's singles week-end here at NSS. No, ladies, I'm not available, so get back behind the rope...I mean those mighty seven inches of pleasure. To get the ball rolling, this one was inspired by Joe over at Last Days of Man on Earth.

This lovely little chunk is off the Houdini outing, but the package on this one is the real deal, & the fact that it was given to me by the King hisself at a show at the F/X in San Johaze, to be revu'd in EAT POOP makes it all the more special to me!

I've seen stuff on the 'net about this, but the images were cropped, chopped, & slopped, doing a great disservice to both the Rise Records label & designer/artist Frank Kozik (come on, the single comes in a Hard-To-Open Package © (its not really so hard, you just pull the tap).

Melvins - Orbis Cantos Crescere LXXVII 7" picture disc,
Rise Records RR76, 1993.

decryption code in comments

Side He: hooch

Side She: sky pup

Enjoy,
NØ

For John Dillenger - In Hope He is Still Alive

by S. Clay Wilson, 1988.

Don't usually respond well to 'anonymous'. Even if you don't have a blogger or Google account, you could put your name at the end of your comments. I mean, just make up a handle, fer X's sake. That being said, since the "late great word magickian" is among my top-honored Insects, here's a taste.

I'm really just posting this for its informational value. Check out UBUWEB, a great resource for things highly literary on the 'Net. They have a plethora (is 43 a plethora??? - I'm sure 23 is[83 as of this re-up]) of Viral language from Old Bill here.

K-9 Was in Combat with the Alien Mind-Screens (13:29) from Break Through in Grey Room
( Early cut-up of tapes made by Ian Sommerville and WSB around 1965, probably in New York & London. )

Enjoy,
NØ

Luckily, we had some rotenone.

UPDATE: This post was re-uploaded 02/09/2014. Enjoy, NØ.

"We set out at dawn. End of a dead-end street---that is what we are looking for.

1) Three leads. High walls. A sort of face on a bladder.
2) A museum. I was in a room with exhibits---no exits. Look down to my right & I see an open space ahead,
& a sun-lit wall about one hundred feet away. Something wrong about the wall. It is a painting. A painted wall. It is not really outside the museum.
3) The dead-end reeking street, stinking of rotten time & light."
from dead-end reeking street,
Tornado Alley,
William Seward Burroughs

This one's a nod to ib, who started this all.



There seems to be a cd available of Ken Colyer's Jazzmen called New Orleans to London & Back to the Delta, but this is the original 10" LP second release by Ken Colyer on London Records from 1954 with album notes by legendary Alexis Korner who plays on three cuts here which feature not The Jazzmen, but Ken Colyer's Skiffle Group.

Ken Colyer's Jazzmen feature: Ken Colyer - trumpet; Ed O'Donell - trombone; Bernard Bilk - clarinet; Disley - banjo; Dick Smith - bass; & Stan Gregg - drums, recorded in London September 10, 1954.

Ken Colyer's Skiffle group feature: Ken Colyer - guitar & vocals; Alexis Korner - guitar & mandolin; Bill Colyer - washboard; & Mickey Ashman - bass, recorded in London June 25, 1954.

I have re-arranged the order of the songs on side two so that all The Jazzmen songs are first to create more continuity with side one & the Skiffle Group songs are last.

Ken Colyer - Back to the Delta(a New Orleans Encore), London Records LB 1089, 1954.

decryption code in comments

Side No. 1 -

Sing on
Lord, Lord, Lord, you sure been good to me
Faraway blues
Moose march

Side No. 2 -

Saturday night function
Shim-me-sha-wabble
Midnight special *
Casey Jones *
K.C. moan *

* The Skiffle Group

Enjoy,
NØ

Music for a New Society

 UPDATE: This post was re-uploaded 08/27/2013. Enjoy, NØ.

A request from a friend...

John Cale - Music for a New Society, Ze Records PB 6019, 1982.

decryption code in comments

Side A -

Taking Your Life in Your Hands
Thoughtless Kind
Sanities (re: Santies)
If You Were Still Around
Close Watch
Mama's Song

Side B -

Broken Bird
Chinese Envoy
Changes Made
Damn Life
Risé, Sam, & Rimsky Korsakov

Enjoy,
NØ

The Very Long Fuse

Breaking Circus was a post-punk band from the 1980s, based in Chicago & later Minneapolis.

They began as a vehicle for Steve Björklund (started with bassist Bruce Lange in 1983), veteran of the '80-'83 Chicago punk explosion (as a member of the seminal Strike Under &, later, Terminal Beach).

The eight-song 12" 45 rpm The Very Long Fuse is terse, post-punk vitriol set to a banging dance-beat of a Roland TR-606 drum machine. As evidenced by songs like "(Knife In The) Marathon", Björklund was moving into slightly more melodic territory than Strike Under with some songs...tunes with somewhat conventional rock riffs & hooks. Other tracks revealed glimpses of a style that would soon be associated with the Chicago underground scene...songs like"The Imperial Clawmasters' Theme" & "Precision" with their sharp, jagged & guitar-powered noisy "industrial" sound that was also being pioneered by Steve Albini & Big Black.

By the time The Very Long Fuse was released, Bruce Lange had left the band, leaving only Björklund. Steve moved to Minneapolis. There he hooked up with drummer Todd Trainer & bassist Flour (Pete Conway), the rhythm section for the band Rifle Sport. Now with a full trio lineup, Breaking Circus was now a viable band.

(L-R: Todd Trainer, Steve Björklund, Flour, & fill-in guitarist Phil Harder.)

I believe that Breaking Circus's discography was only released once on its initial vinyl run on the Homestead label, & has yet to be reissued on CD.

Breaking Circus - The Very Long Fuse, Homestead Records Homestead 0012, 1985.

Side 1:
Precision
(Knife in the) Marathin
Lady in the Lake
Soul of Japan

Side 2:
The Imperial Clawmasters' Theme
Monster's sanctuary
Christian Soldiers
Morning

Enjoy,
NØ

What I'm doing the rest of the Summer - Part 1

Last years Festival with the panoramic view of San Francisco & the Bay

Inside a Communist Cell

Karl Prussion won't bore you with generalities. He assumes that you are aware of the Communist menace, & unless you are a Soviet agent (as all Communists are) or one of the dupes into whose hands some of these records sometimes fall, you are prepared to fight Communism. 

To fight it, you must know something of the nature of the enemy in your community. The ideal place to learn that is right inside a Communist Cell. That is where Karl Prussion takes you in this dynamic, dramatic album. Karl Prussion's experience has been at the business end of the Communist Criminal Conspiracy. 

For 26 years, during almost half of which he was an undercover agent for the F.B.I., Karl followed the seditious, violent, vicious directives of the Kremlin. He pulls no punches in telling you what has happened, what is still happening, what is planned. 

 If you call yourself a "Liberal," Karl will prove to you, vividly & convincingly, that the label "Liberal" is as much a misnomer as the words "Maple Syrup" on a bottle of arsenic. 

Karl Prussion was to have been the star witness at the San Francisco hearings of the House Committee on Un-American Activities at which the student riots erupted. There are those who say the very reason for the riots was to prevent presentation of the Prussion Testimony. 

Essentially, this album is that testimony - the words that were lost in the disgraceful, law-defying & Kremlin-directed demonstration in San Francisco. You won't be very proud of certain Americans when you learn, from this record, how Karl Prussion was lured into the Communist Conspiracy, how the Communists planned to make him a Methodist minister, how he watched Red Fascism infiltrate every facet of American life from the P.T.A. to the drawing boards of missile engineers. This is not a pretty story. But it's honest & it's frighteningly fraught with facts. After you've heard this record, see that it is played for friends & neighbors, particularly those who loosely speak of "witch hunts" & "red herrings," of "reactionaries" & "civil rights." Play it for anyone who will listen. We all know the hour is late...so late, possibly, that our only choice now is which side we die on. 

Karl Prussion is on God's side. 

 No Communist is. (nyuck nyuck nyuck)Karl Prussion - Inside a Communist Cell, Key Records KLP 720, 1961.

 

Side I -

Is Communism Political?

How I Broke with the Party

Communism in Churches

The Songs of Subversion

Violence in Labor

 

Side II - 

Re-enactment of Actual Cell Meeting

 

Enjoy, ya friggin' Liberals,

NØ

HEAT

Tonight the room is filled with rage...a boy screaming continuously. Hot out tonight. Killer in the guts all over the place. So house tonight. House of flesh disemboweled. The final one pleads the aluminum support...'first' house. A bunch of people burn it down, melt it, end it. Stop. Stop writhing. You stop kicking until she died. Her shallow breath...a euphoric lesion...the living. Yet the juices soak narcotic. The summer slithers closer. He is covering his arm...just delivering more of what can be his flesh...before it becomes heroin addiction...child & wife...his head. Entire child...the kind that becomes flesh house...meat house. Feed it. Poke your eyes with sticks, pets, animals, flesh, whores. Your mouth is bleeding...yourself writhing on the street, but they can't hurt you anymore. Hot...so fucking hot. You're dying in the house tonight. Downstairs, the Tomorrows that the machine foiled. The sculptor's dreams are splitting like plaster. What is it?..another shadow?..speed fell along the dusky way. Your eyes are carved in enamel. His cat...windows crawled...dressed...the tools being electric, it got under with vines, you are discovering...three elbows cast in light. Over the dictionary flew the last slabs of grey marbles. Swallowed a whole vial of hot, divine punishment, with a rusty 'I don't live here'. Craving the desolate attraction of nectar, I begin further from her labia. I hear her last breath, buffeted by a nymphomaniac from the fur chapel. Her inner thighs have the ecstasy of the feast. I'm going in there, pressed like Burger King for lunch. I feel to stroke her swollen clitoris which is clotted with the thick cold juice, more like A-1 steak sauce & chewing beatings...crushed & mutilated...too well done. Smells white hot. Never threatening time. Cooking meat is cooking meat, not 'new & improved'. Her energy suffuses me...black rotten petals...ancient noise like the knell of molecules...the catatonia. Ground flowers...the gasoline foam...breasts, brick white & longer than feet & yards. Ground flowers...gasoline foam...sections with brown ink on the Indian's skull. River of ruin. In the privacy of people, we stop what we are doing outside, sweating in the street. The man in the car is waiting for the rumble to fill, curling back & hissing. He is the man in bodies trapped in burning cars, his own flesh away from the car accident. Some streets applaud & cheer. There was an intersection. The steering wheel is coming...closing. The summer car explodes in flames. His flesh is against the window looking at the man in the car burning. He has no hair. More pain & more desperation. The car...burning for you. Then color returns to Havoc's eyes...tethers from her flesh into mine...reeks like a grave with the rush of some pure Arcane. This is abusing corpses. Dress them for the fucking world to subside. It didn't. Into cars. Drive them downtown. I'm still breathing. Breathing. Breathing sure to prop them up. We wake up at night screaming, 'Turn on the bodies.' Back into the flame-throwers...going into Palo body bags & number them by the book...torching men, women, & children. Identify the bodies & drag them home. Cook the numbers & names from the White Pages TV set. Drag it off...annihilating & rubbing themselves repeatedly. We could have afforded more...tore apart the fruit...later, the leaf...sooty tear...membrane?..or rare lawn? Suspend dignity. The maid put in the token...her who came to visit...her mouth had old cornices...clarinets. Fucker watches you die. Finally you kick it, suck it, bite it, & you're dead all the way. Smell it? About the attic...bones...a stone carcass. At last the air is dense with swirling. Evidently now I can think of her in lost terms...underwater the squid languishes. You wanted...so everybody joined us at the bar. It went over like a green sandwich. The speaker remained an the stout platform. I want pearls in your eyes...pearls dipped in 'Didn't I tell you?' rivers. The tennis court figures the children made are beginning to steam...salt in the theater...alcohol threw precaution to the wind...the light top results came uptown to the warehouse basement. The Red Garter Belt coffee was another...was a steamer...she incorporates the IDEAS arm. 'I'm not easy to,' please. Everything was shuffled along to evaporate the chalk...even the water had finished acting slyly...seemed destined to look like the other actress. 'I limited myself, yes', said the victim. He stepped in...he stepped out...seemingly can't take the suspense. 'But I'm happy!' giving a geometry to our our feelings...all these abandoned slums...rings of prison walls...freckled in some white chair. ' I have twisted cats' necks. They stare at you but don't make a sound.' Litters. Pet shop-slaughterhouse. Break off your teeth with rocks & clean it, sell it, kill it. The children poke you & jab you. Bought, sold, fed, killed. Imagine. People have flesh eating parties...people to Death. We don't have witch pigs dying in the streets of my damnation. I wait...dry...as we come to the public burning inside. Waiting for the summer: to see the incineration in my ears. Ripping body's son, in the middle of the bones & eating it. The people on pins in the front seat. Yes, this has been a good burning...more stop to watch the man burn. There will be more burnings...more trials. Anymore, this is as close as it gets to jumping off buildings...abortions. This is the solitary night. Slashed my wrists. This is the plague. This is the saliva anymore. Waited to raise your wings. Prepare to meet the last...over...& over. I put them on buses. Load them with gas. 'Turn on the gas?' Nuns might fall over. Clocks alone didn't reach the road...movement?..or darkness maybe? In a fine spray of a stream, beside the road, a luscious farm. This one does not pay much more for hour hands. Folding tints of ember...& receiving 'this earth is slowly...' A snail maintained its retarded pace...moved Upstate...lit fires. Is nothing ever remaining in our hands?..like blue roses' fire...was there? We always desire detour. Tri-colored petals...texture of torpedo, now & then...barbs dripped like feathers into the barn. 12yr. old pedaled downhill...collapsed amidst amusement & black berries...his ankle swollen, clipped like angel hair 'falling at last'. The mad dog summer...burning to Death. The distressed hounds, until my finger legs now, start to bark at its gaping rim. She sits on leashes & lashes...the heavy carpet of her savagery. Of the hounds life...mannikin-shaped excrements penetrate her frosted rectum. The hounds, up on their hinds, find her anus...lubricating howls as they test their backs automatically. The mastiffs crash from their heat...ebbing away. The human debris stirs. At around 8pm, drag Verdes, reading, from the telephone suburbs. Porters will put them in, masturbating & reciting. Their mates will come. The clean white pages are for dinner...prop it up in front of salvation. Havoc stiffens, impaled like the air, dense with swirling, shrieking & dancing, exploding like fire crackers. Later, he returned in a bread truck with his impeccable aunt...in the ocher garden. The Negro 'bin jamm'd wit de leatha'...husband praying like dice...the tape...the dust...opened to mistaken red light bulbs...their engines avoided the yellow for ransom green money. Through all this I only feel like an excess...abundance of wire hawks...surrounded by the funneled wind...tinseled vapors right into the thorn aquarium. Our ring of meteors pace back & forth. 'We won the pennant!' Park destroyed. Desire is everything...everything...everything we are dancing...even the darkest green forest. Summer is the hound's life with mannikin-shaped arms, just delivering more rectums. Abortions in the barn...12yr old pedophile foam. Breasts brick amidst the amusement & black beds. Black be the way of life. Her mouth had bodies in the middle...mechanically, an oven broiling Scope...her inner thighs have wings. Seventeen thighs & the tainted feeling of the summer night I slashed my wrists...reading from the telephone book of Death...identifying burning cars...my own flesh just numbers & names. Yes, it has been a good burning wind. The hunger King at lunch... Prepare to meet the last breath... over... & over... River of ruin. Desire is everything Desire is... over... & over... So long, dear friends... So long!

Before You Slip Into Unconsciousness

Deep beneath the scream the rush of basso profundo sub-sonics the true voice of fear heavy & cloying as a smell electrifying each gonadal hair. The hairs in secret somatic sensualism mimic a gentle gloved hand & stroke to ultimate tumescence like no human hand can do. The play of light & shadow on the slowly pooling blood paints the most intense masterpiece in strokes of black & red. Deep beneath the harvest moon knife shadows rise & fall. The head upturns toward the skies. The mighty mane blows in the wind. A hellhound howl parts crimson lips; the prey is conquered & lifeforce slakes a burning thirst, intoxicates as finest Bourbon & fires the depths of these immortal veins like no spring wine can do. The reflection from the surface of the mirror pool of blood catches the face of an angel seen in the eyes of a darker god. NØ

ÉÉN - ZEVEN - DRIE - DRIE - VINF - ZEVEN

Perceptions. Delusion indeed. Imemat hipped me to the Conet Numbers Project. I went over to Egg City Radio & downloaded the four files. I've been playing them continuously since I got them. Matt said about listening to them while falling asleep. I have them on random play all the time. After the first day & night, I duct-taped the headphones to my head. I haven't been to work or outside since I started re-programming. Except at nighttime, to do its bidding. Last Saturday I charged up my mp3 player, pocketed a back-up battery, pulled on a Jets stocking cap to cover the duct-tape, & cranked up the volume. I headed out looking for some asshole being himself at some Citizen's expense. I was packin' & I knew what to do. It was clearing my mind of everything but purpose. Coupla a bangers snatchin' a purse off some lady with three kids. Fuck. I just took'em out & walked away. The lady was, like,"Thanks Mister!" Mister. Yeah! MISTER!!! I've just been working hard in my room most of the time, decoding more & more of the code. I order delivery pizza & leave the money out front, wait 'til the delivery dude splits, & then grab the pie, 2liter soda, & a salad (I'm watchin' my health). The random play factor is actually a God-send. My next assignment this week-end is even more empowering. Then I need to begin scouring the Web for more clues & missing segments of the code. I am being re-programmed for the Final act. Hope to see you soon. Hope to see you soon. NØ

RootBoy Slim - The Lenny Bruce of Boogie

UPDATE: This post was re-uploaded
10/27/2013. Enjoy 'til you puke, NØ.





When I was deciding whether to post this album or not, I searched around on the Net to see if it was available or not & to get some facts to write up.

Searchs found it for $135.00.
It said: EXTREMELY RARE & OUT OF PRINT.
But I had no idea there was such a RootBoy cult or how loyal they were.

I first saw RootBoy & the Sex Change crew at a club called The Bayou in Washington, D.C. on July 4, 1978. I had driven down from Pittsburgh, PA. to attend the Annual White House Smoke-out with my partner-in-crime Mother Dies. We were having a great time, staying in a tent made from an Air Force parachute down at West Potomac Park by the Tidal Basin. We had already pied the Pieman Aaron Kay with an all-American apple pie & we were feeling pretty good. RootBoy & band were playing Independence Day at The Bayou & we were so there. We almost got popped outside the club for smoking a jay, can you believe that, at the Smoke-out, going to see RootBoy ('Put a quarter in the juke/& boogie 'til you puke/Pop that Locker Room/Let's really zoom/Shootin' & a-tootin'/all night long') & almost gettin' arrested for smokin' some ganja!

RootBoy Slim (born Foster MacKenzie III in Asheville, North Carolina, on July 9, 1945) & his band, the hilariously named Sex Change Band w/ the Rootettes, were a fixture in the mid-Atlantic blues/rock scene. Stridently different than your typical club fare, RootBoy was fat, had greasy hair & almost always seemed to be in a drug- or alcohol-induced stupor .














MacKenzie was an intelligent yet incorrigible youth who was invited to leave several private DC-area prep schools. He went on to Yale, where he majored in African American studies, graduating in 1967. He was a member of the Delta Kappa Epsilon (the Dekes) fraternity. His fraternity brothers included future President George W. Bush. MacKenzie was a year older than Bush.


While at Yale, MacKenzie formed a band
with classmate & fraternity brother Bob Greenlee,
who was quarterback of Yale's football team.
The band was named
Prince La La & the Midnight Creepers.
Band members wore ermine capes,
silver lame hot pants
& boasted that they were never invited for return engagements.




The year after MacKenzie & Greenlee graduated, they returned to the DKE house during Yale's homecoming. Bush, who since their departure had become president of DKE, threw them out & banned them from the house for smoking a joint on the steps. RootBoy hopped the White House fence in 1969 while tripping balls on LSD (Root explained to Secret Service agents that he was 'looking for the center of the universe').

One of RootBoy's adventures, 'framed for cocaine':

IN JAIL IN JACKSONVILLE
All I had was a roach it's true
Told the pigs what they could do
Then they found a coupla pounds
Too bad that cocaine was around

Chorus: In jail in Jacksonville - 2 times

I was pretty high when the bust went down
Noddin' & smilin', shufflin' around
Now my life is a mess
You can reach me at my new address

Chorus: 2 times

Didn't have a dime for a call
Public defender laughin' in the hall
Took my prints, mug shots, too
Pushed me down to cell block two
Put me in with Big Bad John
Had to keep my mudflap on
Queens were screamin' up a storm
Want my young body to keep them warm

Chorus: 2 times

Now I'm doin' eleven months to two
For a crime I, of course, didn't do
My lawyer's appeal, coppin' a plea
Gonna sue for what they done to me

Chorus: 2 times, then (What'd they do, Slim?)

Gave me a number, ring in my nose
Beat me senseless with a rubber hose
Kept me dirty, fed me swill
Didn't give me no medicine when I was ill
Had a hangnail, bad, bad pain
Need my Demerol right away
Had an attack of the gout
Where was my morphine to help me out?

Chorus: 8 times to fade over RootBoy rap...

Root & company trudged the mid-Atlantic club circuit until a self-produced recording caught the ear of Donald Fagen & Walter Becker of Steely Dan who in turn passed it on to some A&R honchoes at Warner Brothers Records. RootBoy & band landed a $250,000 contract with Warners. Root Boy Slim & The Sex Change Band with the Rootettes was inflammatory, piss drunk & powered by Rootboy's good time Beefheart, the album is pure punk aesthetics saddled to a strong boogie bronco, demonstrating Root & the band's penchant for writing tunes relating to pop-culture with such quirky titles as "Boogie Till You Puke" & "You Broke My Mood Ring". Naturally, being a major label, Warners mismarketed the LP & the band found themselves without a label -- but not without a having had a European tour, in which Root Boy became enamoured with his forefathers' homeland: Scotland...

Enter Miles Copeland's Illegal Records. Miles signed the band & they produced their second LP, ZOOM on I.R.S. in the US, Illegal in the UK. Despite the use of A&M's mighty marketing arm, the LP sold about as well as its predecessor, & Root & the boys (& girls) found themselves labelless once again. After this Root Boy Slim & The Sex Change Band (with & without The Rootettes) continued playing the Atlantic Seaboard. They did four more LPs: DOG SECRETS on Congressional Records; DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU & LEFT FOR DEAD for Kingsnake Records; & ROOT SIX for Naked Language Records. There is a great video of RootBoy & Co. doing "Hey, Mr. President" (a song about the plight of the homeless) here.

Sadly, the silliness of Slim could not go on forever. On June 8, 1993, four days after the start of an east coast tour with the Sex Change Band & one month before his forty-eighth birthday, RootBoy Slim died in his sleep in his Orlando, FL, apartment. The culprit? Hard livin’, pure & simple. The fast lane had finally caught up with him. His ashes were scattered in Scotland.

On this album:
RootBoy Slim - vocals, harmonica; E. Locker Romm Lancaster - guitar; Rattlesnake rattles - bass; Tommy Ruger - drums; Cosmo Creek - pedal steel; Winston 'Spots' Kelly - keyboards; Ron Holloway - tenor sax; Cherie Grasso - Rootette; 'Micki' Lee Jonnie - Rootette; Kathe 'Special K' Russel - assistant Rootette; & Flaco - percussion. SPECIAL THANKS: Mood Barn;...Catfish Bones; the Smiley Sisters; certain resident of Cabin John; & all others whose names are too short to remember, the list of course too long to forget; also Mr. Tobias & his Gurian. No thanks to anyone else.

RootBoy Slim & the Sex Change Band with the Rootettes - Self-titled, 

Warner Brothers Records BSK 3160,1978.

decryption code in comments

Side 1 -

Boogie 'Til You Puke
I'm Not too Old for You
I Used to Be a Radical
Heartbreak of Psoriasis
I Want it Now

Side 2 -
Mood Ring
Too Sick to Reggae
My Wig Fell Off
Country Love
In Jail in Jacksonville
You Can't Quit My Club

Enjoy,
NØ

The (original) Ramonas

UPDATE: This post was re-uploaded 08/22/2013. Enjoy, NØ.

The Ramones have spawned many “tribute bands” around the world, such as














The Gabba Gabba Heys, or...






Their album
The Good, The Bad, & The
Pinheads




The Pinheads from Chicago, or...





















The Pinheads from Cleveland.

There are also many Ramonas.














There are the L.A. Ramonas now known as The Sheenas (all fems)...

















the U.K. Ramonas (mostly fems)...

















even the Bavarian Ramonas (dudes ???).


The (original) Ramonas...


But the original Ramonas were from San Francisco & were not a "tribute" or "cover" band. They were four women who loved the Ramones & if anything, their music was an homage to the punk foursome (think The Donnas only punkier). The Ramonas performed throughout the Bay Area, once opening for Nirvana at the Warfield & on Dec. 17, 1999, played a reunion show at the official Ramones CyberPunk Blitz at CBGB, New York City.

The Ramonas are: Kitze - vocals; Suzze - guitar; Patty - bass; & Shelly - drums.















Their song "Santa's Got A GTO!" appears on Rodney on the Roq's Fave X-Mas Songs cd., Dionysus Records 1997. You can listen to it here.













They released one 45rpm EP, Out of the Basement (12"), Detour Records 1990, one cassette, Santa's Got a GTO! (fan club only, limited ed. of 100), 1991, & one 7", Misdirected/I Don't Like You/She's A Bitch, Detour Records 1992.



















All the Ramonas music was recorded at Lowdown Studios in San Francisco.

The Ramonas - Out of the Basement 45rpm EP, Detour Records DTR 1001, 1990.

decryption code in comments

Side 1 -

Let Me Be
He's the One
She's a Bitch
Gone Gone Gone
Side 2 -

Betty's Dead
Teenage Stoneage Tarzan
Here Comes My Baby
Run Run Run








Original artwork by Mike Reject 1990.










Enjoy,
NØ

D.C.3

 RE-UPLOADED FEBRUARY 28, 2013

I just want to say that D.C.3 are the shit! They were years ahead of their time by playin' RAWK & paying respects to the bands & musicians that had rocked their world. Musick to 'excite us', what a fucking concept. I sometimes listen to one of my albums, one I had nearly worn out playing in its heyday & now find it sounding dated. I listen to D.C.3 & think how fresh they sound, how of this moment. I hope you all will give them a listen, they surely know how to entertain the brain.

This Is the Dream








This first albums features: Dez Cadena (Black Flag, Redd Kross) - guitar, vocals, backing vocals; Paul Roessler(45 Grave, Twisted Roots) - bass keyboard, keyboards, backing vocals, lead vocal on "Dance of the Imbeciles"; & Kurt Markham - drums.

On This Is the Dream, Dez writes:

"D.C.3 started out a concept - a group of friends getting together in the studio to record an album in the style of the records that used to excite us when we were young (such as Deep Purple's Machinehead, Captain Beyond, Humble Pie, Mountain, etc...You get the idea). In this, our very first recording effort, I think we've accomplished that goal. I appreciate all the people & bands that helped put love, & other strange emotions, in my heart."

D.C.3 - THIS IS THE DREAM, SST 033 ,1985.

decryption codes in comments

Side 1:
We Feel the Sky
I Believe It / Apparent Doom / Ain't No Time Here Now / Overtime
This Is the Dream
Hidden Track (backward masking)
Hidden Track (reversed for you)
Side 2:
Twisted & Turning Inside
Dance of the Imbeciles
I Hope Tomorrow's a Better Day
98 Malvern St.

You're Only as Blind as Your Mind Can Be







The third album features Dez & Paul, but now includes Ceasar Viscarra(bass) & Louie Dufau(drums). These two had played together in the seminal 1980's speedrock band The Stains. They added a new & dynamic element to D.C.3 (still called 3 even with 4 - kool). They joined prior to D.C.3's second release The Good Hex. On this third outing, the bands sound has matured & although it is at heart an homage to great 70s rockers, there are deeper elements at play. There are hints of Mississippi blues, R&B, free jazz, & punk rock.

Reviewing a D.C.3 show at Café Modé for Public News, John Lee wrote:

"The new D.C.3 is even better than before evidenced by their superlative performance at Café Modé last weekend...For those of us longing for a group that can deliver hyperspace rock like no one since Hawkwind, D.C.3 comes close."

D.C.3 - You're Only as Blind as Your Mind Can Be, SST 083,1986

Side 1:Lost Someone
Party for One
You're Only as Blind as You're Mind Can Be
(I'll Never) Kill Myself over You
I Ain't Got You
Side 2:
Sweet Buttercup
Talkin' to the Mirror
Baby, You Know Ehere I Live
Malena (My Love is Here Forever)


Dez & Black Flag







Enjoy,
NØ

That's what Frenz R 4

These were requested by a couple friends of mine, so without further ado...

Red Lorry Yellow Lorry ...for MAJ














Red Lorry Yellow Lorry (named after a vague tongue twister [try Unique New York] ) were a Leeds, England quartet, formed in 1981 by vocalist Chris Reed & joined shortly thereafter by guitarist Dave "Wolfie" Wolfenden. These two would be the Lorries core-lineup through their fourth album, Blow (1989). Red Lorry Yellow Lorry have often been lumped into the British Goth Rock scene, much to their dismay & confusion, as they were so not goths. (& they have been relegated a 'minor players' status in the Goth pantheon to make matters worse.) The Lorries released a slew of crucial early singles released almost entirely on the British Red Rhino imprint. Though overtones of Joy Division are fairly evident, the Lorries busier, more guitar heavy, more robust arrangements sonically put them more in line with the post-punk sound of Killing Joke or the Chameleons UK. The band themselves preferred to cite Wire as an influence. Try "Jipp", its jangly, & tastee!

Red Lorry Yellow Lorry - Walking On Your Hands 45rpm 12" ,
Red Rhino Records REDT 66, 1986.
Side 1:
Walking on Your Hands
Side 2:
Which Side
Jipp (Instrumental Mix)



Laika & the Cosmonauts ...for Mike

















In 1957, Laika the Soviet space dog, became the first earthling launched into orbit, paving the way for human spaceflight. She is shown here in her flight harness. Laika died a few hours after launch from stress & overheating, probably due to a malfunction in the thermal control system. The true cause of her death was not made public until decades after the flight. The original Laika...She never came back, no she never came back.

Laika & The Cosmonauts was founded in 1987 in Finland by Mikko Lankinen (guitar), Janne Haavisto (drums), Matti Pitsinki (organ, guitar) & Tom Nyman (bass). Their first album, C'mon Do The Laika was released in 1988. The group has since released five more studio albums, all with the same line-up.















Their popularity in Finland & the rest of Europe began, surprisingly, only after they had made themselves a name among the surf/garage/punk/alternative fans in the U.S. There the foursome had released three original albums: Instruments of Terror; The Amazing Colossal Band; & Absurdistan as well as a compilation of their early material from C'mon do the Laika & Surfs you right!. With these records the Cosmonauts got rave reviews, a good amount of airplay on the college & alternative radio & won over the hearts of many famed musicians from "the king of surf guitar" Dick Dale, Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers' Mike Campbell & Benmont Tench, Mike Palm from the surf-punk band Agent Orange & John Jorgenson from The Hellecasters. In US they have done six nationwide tours, one of which was as a supporting act for Ministry on their Filth Pig tour. Al Jourgensen of Ministry wanted Laika & The Cosmonauts to join the tour because, in his words; "They are the best fucking band in the world!"

By the way, did I say Finnish Surf musick?

Their musick relies heavily on the Finnish rautalanka tradition, a Finnish style of instrumental music played mainly by a quartet (lead guitar, rhythm guitar, bass guitar & drum kit). The word rautalanka literally mean 'iron wire', which refers to the strings of the electric guitars. The heyday of rautalanka was in the early 1960s. Typical features of rautalanka are: sharp, clear melodies; fast tempos; & extensive use of echo (tape echo & reverb), but little or no overdrive or fuzz. What distinguishes rautalanka most clearly from other twangy guitar genres is that the melodies tend to be in minor keys.

Cover design & art work by Alvar Gullichsen

Laika & the Cosmonauts - The Amazing Colossal Band,
Upstart Records 010, 1995.
Side 1:
Delayrium
Floating
Tantrum
The A-Treatment
The Ipcress File
Global Village
Side 2:
The Avengers
Exposé
Aztec Two-step
The Downwinders
Café Equator
O.C.C.C. (Oahu Community Correctional Center)
Get Carter
The Man From H.U.A.C.
Azure Blue

To MAJ, Mike & everyone,
Enjoy,
NØ

Life is Ugly so...

 UPDATE: This post was re-uploaded 08/18/2013. Enjoy, NØ.

I was living in NYC when I first got into punk, but shortly thereafter (summer 1979) moved to the Bay Area, CA. I became a regular around the San Francisco clubs. There was an incredibly lively scene (The Mab, On Broadway, Deaf Club, then later Club Foot). There was also a burgeoning L.A. scene so I scarfed up every comp. I could find (Hell Comes to Your House, Keats Rides a Harley, etc.) in order to learn the So-Cal bands & decide which ones I liked. I think my all-time favorite album & one I listen to a great deal even today is Life Is So Ugly Why Not Kill Yourself (if only for the cynical Saccharine Trust "Disillusion Fool", possibly their greatest tune)

Various - Life is Ugly so Why Not Kill Yourself compilation LP,

New Underground Records NU-11,1982.

decryption codes in comments

Side 1 -

RED CROSS "Rich Brat"
DESCENDENTS "I Want to Be a Bear"
ANTI "Fight War Not Wars"
ANTI "I don't Wanna Die"
ILL WILL "Paranoid"
ILL WILL "Midnite Deposit"
CIVIL DISMAY "You're So Fucked to Me"
CIVIL DISMAY "Warhol Genius"
CIVIL DISMAY "Filch"
CHINA WHITE "Criminal"
CHINA WHITE "Solid State"

Side 2 -

MOOD OF DEFIANCE "Empty Me"
MINUTEMEN "Shit You Hear at Parties"
MINUTEMEN "Maternal Rite"
100 FLOWERS "Sensible Virgin"
URINALS "She's s Drone"
ZURICH 1916 "The Children's Song"
PLEBS "Payday"
SACCHARINE TRUST "Disillusion Fool"




Enjoy,
NØ

UPDATE: Borneojimy wanted to know about the other two Life is... albums. Mark Underground has posted both Life is Boring & Life is Beautiful.
Thanks for the comment & request Borneo
Thanks for the post Mark

UPDATE update: there seems to be some confusion about the song order & track listing for Life is Beautiful..., so be sure to read the comments after the post.

UPDATE update UPDATE: It appears all versions of these two other great albums are no where to be found, so I took it upon my self to post them here. Also, a few notes about song list confusion: Marshall Mellow - "Marshmellow Children" is listed on both Life is Boring & Life is Beautiful. It is the 6th song on Side Two of Life is Boring, but is not on Life is Beautiful. This throws off the tracklisting for most who ripped the album & trusted the song list on the back. Also, the band MIA is the Ventura band & the songs on these comps are their only known extant tuneage, they are not the more well known Orange County band MIA.

 

Various - Life is Boring so Why not Steal This Record, New Underground Records NU-44, 1983.

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Various - Life is Beautiful so Why not Eat Health Foods, New Underground Records NU-55, 1983.

decryption code in comments