Wednesday 24 April 2019
The disconnected axioms of Tavistock gather dust and sputum in the golden cup on the high street. It's hidden in despicable array beyond the wit of any tripper, museums hailing itself as not only just yet another but failure cattle, tongues under the Tories (voluntary sectors splatter cacks), but also but only not yet any done more. Throughhand, one can glister one's eyehole with curry and Wigmore, trepidation and fat, lugubriousness and hexes, shoot sure. But whether wimple discretion carries laterally the thoughty thought wrapped in butterflies, or a jade pagoda opens its regularity for a sideways back and to the left of the Welsh and their cupolas, anyone thin or crisp will not necessarily not enjoy the coast of central Enjoy.
Tuesday 31 March 2009
Monday 26 January 2009
GROTBAGS
THE NEW ALBUM AT LAST HITS RACKS!!!!
Pissed Yourself Again Records is proud to unveil their latest signing, the sub-Polish principled grind band GROTBAGS, with a vicious and relevant CD.
Born in an abandoned Duhr Valley industrial estate by vocalist Tax State Murder (ex-DO ME A FAVOUR) and maniac drummer Crippled 3rd World Economy (who bashed major skins on 'There Is Absolutely No Way You Will Ever Be Released From This Shitty Fucken Nightmare', debut 7" by Jappo-Scandinavian crust nutters SHITFUCKPISS?), GROTBAGS instantly recorded a cover of bovver-oi classic 'Nob Off Maggie' by TWAT THE BARRISTER and were subsequently accused of being racist bloody Poles.
But they weren't, and they proved it with the landmark-defining very left-wing classic 'The War Isn't Finished In Our Heads Yet' LP on the Embarrassing Rash label. Benefit tours followed with the likes of RAT INFESTED DEPOT, THE HEART ATTACK NIXONS, BODGED EXTENSION, SUFFERPRAT and CHILDREN WHO SLEEP WITH HAND GRENADES BY FORCE.
Then all of a sudden tragedy struck in 2006 when bassist and activist Revolting Human Cost (ex-WE THINK OIL IS THE MOTIVE) got arrested for passing betting slips in Hyde Park and being drunk in charge of a petrol-driven lawnmower and asked for five other amusing 1950s-style crimes to be taken into consideration, including pilfering from the Christmas Club money and scrumping.
Released from prison in time for the last Indiana Jones film, Revolting walked straight into the recording of the much-awaited Grotbags sophomore debut, the majestically dismal 'Discarded Limbs Still Butter The Anus Of War'. Legendary activist Swampy turns up to do guest haranguing on track hundred and nine, 'Don't Say Yes To These Bastards With Your Apathy', while the artwork was designed specially for the band by Mother Nature, who delayed the first rays of spring so she could do all the stencilling round the edges by hand.
Promotion is being done by rhythm guitarist Sodding Corporate Scheme (ex-GRATIA PAYMENT), who can be reached on 081-811-8181 during dole hours.
EXPLOITATIVEjpeg
Ex-husband and wife power electronics duo EXPLOITATIVEjpeg first realised they could kick up a racket when their neighbours reported them to the police. In the midst of an acrimonious divorce they worked on their debut album 'Frequently Coerced Into All Sorts Of Unpleasantness', the title track of which was cited as evidence in court. Every track was based on one of the many domestic arguments that they recorded and catalogued; the punishing frequencies of 'I Said I Wanted To Watch Fucking Newsnight' segued neatly into the brooding ambient hum of 'My Mother Was Right About You', culminating in the sparse, disturbing epic 'Take The Kids (They're Not Mine Anyway)'.
And now, despite the restraining order, they're back together on the album they were contractually obliged to complete.
So on either this or next Valentine's Day (haha!) Battered To A Crisp Records will release two identically-shaped mp3 EPs: 'Walked Into A Door' and 'Pushed Down The Stairs'. They will come packaged with free his and hers boxes of tissues, and an ironic plastic toy like in a Kinder Egg.
THE NEW ALBUM AT LAST HITS RACKS!!!!
Pissed Yourself Again Records is proud to unveil their latest signing, the sub-Polish principled grind band GROTBAGS, with a vicious and relevant CD.
Born in an abandoned Duhr Valley industrial estate by vocalist Tax State Murder (ex-DO ME A FAVOUR) and maniac drummer Crippled 3rd World Economy (who bashed major skins on 'There Is Absolutely No Way You Will Ever Be Released From This Shitty Fucken Nightmare', debut 7" by Jappo-Scandinavian crust nutters SHITFUCKPISS?), GROTBAGS instantly recorded a cover of bovver-oi classic 'Nob Off Maggie' by TWAT THE BARRISTER and were subsequently accused of being racist bloody Poles.
But they weren't, and they proved it with the landmark-defining very left-wing classic 'The War Isn't Finished In Our Heads Yet' LP on the Embarrassing Rash label. Benefit tours followed with the likes of RAT INFESTED DEPOT, THE HEART ATTACK NIXONS, BODGED EXTENSION, SUFFERPRAT and CHILDREN WHO SLEEP WITH HAND GRENADES BY FORCE.
Then all of a sudden tragedy struck in 2006 when bassist and activist Revolting Human Cost (ex-WE THINK OIL IS THE MOTIVE) got arrested for passing betting slips in Hyde Park and being drunk in charge of a petrol-driven lawnmower and asked for five other amusing 1950s-style crimes to be taken into consideration, including pilfering from the Christmas Club money and scrumping.
Released from prison in time for the last Indiana Jones film, Revolting walked straight into the recording of the much-awaited Grotbags sophomore debut, the majestically dismal 'Discarded Limbs Still Butter The Anus Of War'. Legendary activist Swampy turns up to do guest haranguing on track hundred and nine, 'Don't Say Yes To These Bastards With Your Apathy', while the artwork was designed specially for the band by Mother Nature, who delayed the first rays of spring so she could do all the stencilling round the edges by hand.
Promotion is being done by rhythm guitarist Sodding Corporate Scheme (ex-GRATIA PAYMENT), who can be reached on 081-811-8181 during dole hours.
EXPLOITATIVEjpeg
Ex-husband and wife power electronics duo EXPLOITATIVEjpeg first realised they could kick up a racket when their neighbours reported them to the police. In the midst of an acrimonious divorce they worked on their debut album 'Frequently Coerced Into All Sorts Of Unpleasantness', the title track of which was cited as evidence in court. Every track was based on one of the many domestic arguments that they recorded and catalogued; the punishing frequencies of 'I Said I Wanted To Watch Fucking Newsnight' segued neatly into the brooding ambient hum of 'My Mother Was Right About You', culminating in the sparse, disturbing epic 'Take The Kids (They're Not Mine Anyway)'.
And now, despite the restraining order, they're back together on the album they were contractually obliged to complete.
So on either this or next Valentine's Day (haha!) Battered To A Crisp Records will release two identically-shaped mp3 EPs: 'Walked Into A Door' and 'Pushed Down The Stairs'. They will come packaged with free his and hers boxes of tissues, and an ironic plastic toy like in a Kinder Egg.
Sunday 25 January 2009
CANI5+3R TIT BITZ
* Dr One was hatched wrong out of a mechanical womb producing servo-drones for the Campus of the Goat on the east side of Hell, Planet Bastard. A pint of male eggnog fell into the machine, which spawned Dr One (The Drone): part-manimal, part-machine, half-genius, half-idiot hybrid. From his genitals hang complex mechanical circuitry. He lived most of his life on his home world in a giant skip, where he met his first guitar. They married, and went on to forge a loving but consensually violent relationship. They have six lovely guitar pedals and an amp.
* Clanx was the son of a rebel chieftain on the lawless wasteland, bad-side of Checkpoint Grind. From a young age he became interested in gibberish propaganda, spreading discord with confusion and seriously brassing off the establishment by yammering balls in a confrontational style. This was at a time when yammering balls in a confrontational style was strictly forbidden by the authorities. He held poetry-reading seminars round the back of the Factories, where his anthems of nonsense rebellion baited the rulers of the bleak, scaffolded world of Bastard and Boris and the Baggage Handlers.
* Dr One first met Clan X when Clanx took shelter in Drone's skip when he went into hiding after releasing a radically abstract pamphlet warning the population about The Haystack Problem. The Powers That Be had ruled The Haystack Problem as an Official Misnomer, despite the hard evidence that haystacks were gulping up the tiny commuter-landmass of Eyeland. The real reason for the blackout, of course, was the role that Tesco played in the whole affair.
* 'The Canister Machine' was a primitive electro-mechanical instrument containing sampled percussion noises, which Clanx used to punctuate his more elaborate pronouncements. When he leapt into Drone's Skip, the machine started to wheeze and clatter and grind. Despite the fact that ravenous Baggage Handlers were searching the quadrant, the pair were startled and entranced by the sound, and resolved to form an experimental surrealist industrial grind combo.
* They hot-wired what they thought was a silver oil tanker and headed for Checkpoint Grind, bad-side. But the silver oil-tanker turned out to be a flying canister that went anywhere in time and space. This was the Hybernizer, a semi-sentient slow travel machine much spoken of in Bastardian technomythology circles. Although thoroughly reliable as a road-going heavy goods vehicle, its time travel circuits are fizzing bonkers. A bit like the TARDIS, but not close enough to trouble any legal representatives.
* The first world visited by the Hybernizer was Earth, in the year of their Lord 1992. The Hybernizer was wounded in transit by a squadron of airborne Baggage Handlers, tenacious little bleeders at the best of times ("It's random survival out there," said Drone as the lasers hurtled past the wing mirrors), but the Hybernizer broke the grind barrier and tumbled into a field near the Farnborough Air Show, unnoticed due to the Red Arrows.
* Baggage Handlers are made of shadow matter. They are squat mercenaries favoured by Boris who resemble silhouettes of very short, very wide men in trench coats and trilbies. Nobody has ever heard them speak, but they communicate psychically in American accents and make a kind of soft 'swooshing' sound. On the planet Bastard, is not rare for so-called 'undesirables' to be visited in the small hours by Baggage Handlers, who crawl through terraces and ransack bedrooms looking for the flimsiest evidence of what they call 'shite', which includes any kind of non-state-approved art and music.
* Boris has ruled the planet Bastard since the war that nobody can remember. He is eternal, and never seen, though rumours persist that for the past half-epoch he has communicated only through beeping.
* Clanx was the son of a rebel chieftain on the lawless wasteland, bad-side of Checkpoint Grind. From a young age he became interested in gibberish propaganda, spreading discord with confusion and seriously brassing off the establishment by yammering balls in a confrontational style. This was at a time when yammering balls in a confrontational style was strictly forbidden by the authorities. He held poetry-reading seminars round the back of the Factories, where his anthems of nonsense rebellion baited the rulers of the bleak, scaffolded world of Bastard and Boris and the Baggage Handlers.
* Dr One first met Clan X when Clanx took shelter in Drone's skip when he went into hiding after releasing a radically abstract pamphlet warning the population about The Haystack Problem. The Powers That Be had ruled The Haystack Problem as an Official Misnomer, despite the hard evidence that haystacks were gulping up the tiny commuter-landmass of Eyeland. The real reason for the blackout, of course, was the role that Tesco played in the whole affair.
* 'The Canister Machine' was a primitive electro-mechanical instrument containing sampled percussion noises, which Clanx used to punctuate his more elaborate pronouncements. When he leapt into Drone's Skip, the machine started to wheeze and clatter and grind. Despite the fact that ravenous Baggage Handlers were searching the quadrant, the pair were startled and entranced by the sound, and resolved to form an experimental surrealist industrial grind combo.
* They hot-wired what they thought was a silver oil tanker and headed for Checkpoint Grind, bad-side. But the silver oil-tanker turned out to be a flying canister that went anywhere in time and space. This was the Hybernizer, a semi-sentient slow travel machine much spoken of in Bastardian technomythology circles. Although thoroughly reliable as a road-going heavy goods vehicle, its time travel circuits are fizzing bonkers. A bit like the TARDIS, but not close enough to trouble any legal representatives.
* The first world visited by the Hybernizer was Earth, in the year of their Lord 1992. The Hybernizer was wounded in transit by a squadron of airborne Baggage Handlers, tenacious little bleeders at the best of times ("It's random survival out there," said Drone as the lasers hurtled past the wing mirrors), but the Hybernizer broke the grind barrier and tumbled into a field near the Farnborough Air Show, unnoticed due to the Red Arrows.
* Baggage Handlers are made of shadow matter. They are squat mercenaries favoured by Boris who resemble silhouettes of very short, very wide men in trench coats and trilbies. Nobody has ever heard them speak, but they communicate psychically in American accents and make a kind of soft 'swooshing' sound. On the planet Bastard, is not rare for so-called 'undesirables' to be visited in the small hours by Baggage Handlers, who crawl through terraces and ransack bedrooms looking for the flimsiest evidence of what they call 'shite', which includes any kind of non-state-approved art and music.
* Boris has ruled the planet Bastard since the war that nobody can remember. He is eternal, and never seen, though rumours persist that for the past half-epoch he has communicated only through beeping.
Sunday 24 August 2008
TREMENDOUS DING-DONGS
by Brian Blessed
Fans of actorly spats could scarcely be better advised to do worse than to pick up this 16-disc bounty box of big-bearded badinage. In this loudly conversational collection, Our Bri fondly recalls over fifty of his favourite arguments. Includes a dazzling dressing-down of Derek Jacobi when the stuttering actor questioned Blessed's pronunciation of 'Ptolomy', a heated exchange in a BBC lift with Jonathan Ross's children, and a drunken slanging match with a rock climber in English and Swahili.
by Brian Blessed
Fans of actorly spats could scarcely be better advised to do worse than to pick up this 16-disc bounty box of big-bearded badinage. In this loudly conversational collection, Our Bri fondly recalls over fifty of his favourite arguments. Includes a dazzling dressing-down of Derek Jacobi when the stuttering actor questioned Blessed's pronunciation of 'Ptolomy', a heated exchange in a BBC lift with Jonathan Ross's children, and a drunken slanging match with a rock climber in English and Swahili.
Friday 7 December 2007
MY TEN BEST COMPILATIONS: 1: 'Protect The Innocent' Side A
So these are the ten best multi-band compilations ever according to me. And rating compilations is an entirely subjective thing. Obviously you can weigh up things like how much original and/or obscure material is on it, how well it’s been designed and in what spirit it was conceived, but the truly best compilations are those that introduce you to a new sound and a new way of thinking about the world. Which is why the best way to rank them is chronologically - according to when I first heard them.
---
1989 'Protect The Innocent'
Found the double-tape in the bargain bin during a boring Sunday family jaunt around Makro or somewhere. Sides B, C and D are virtually irrelevant, but Side A - 'The First Chapter' - was just the best 'early metal anthems' collection ever:
A1 Steppenwolf - Born to Be Wild
A2 Black Sabbath - Paranoid
A3 Deep Purple - Fireball
A4 Motörhead - Ace of Spades
A5 Judas Priest - Breaking the Law
A6 Ted Nugent - Scream Dream
A7 Ozzy Osbourne - Ultimate Sin
A8 Blue Öyster Cult - (Don't Fear) The Reaper
Every one a killer. Yeah, even A6 and A7 - both tunes taken from slightly too late in both artists' careers, but Ozzy and Ted were crucial inclusions and the songs are just about the best examples from their era. Besides, they're hammocked between 'Breaking The Law' and '(Don't Fear) The Reaper', for fuck's sake, both truly essential tunes for a boy of 13 to hear. And no, '(Don't Fear) The Reaper' is not a metal tune and never was, but it's such a beguilingly brilliant melody, so strange and haunting and dark, that its power should never be underestimated.
'Protect The Innocent' Side A is an instant rock 'reader' for beginners, a bite-size 'Home School Of Rock' project for all us 13-year-old boys who wanted to know what Metallica listened to when they were our age.
Sides B, C and D weren't without merit - Dio, Anthrax, Saxon, Exodus, er, Mammoth - but it was rubbed up against shite like Cinderella, Tigertailz, Lita Ford, Lisa Dominique (back to back!), Femme Fatale and House Of Lords. And this was tape, kids: none of your handheld shuffle functions there, if you wanted to hear 'Metal Thrashing Mad' you had to fast forward through Kingdom fucking Come and the boring old Dogs D'Amour and the horrible, horrible 'Rhythm Of Love', which put me off the Scorpions for years. Fast forwarding took ages. You don't know you're born.
Incidentally, the ludicrously plentiful liner notes were done by Malcolm Dome (fucking natch), Neil Jeffries of Kerrang!, and a young(ish) 'Rocking' Val Potter, who went on about "the rock megastars of tomorrow", reckoned that Lita Ford, Lorraine Lewis and Lisa Dominique were "ready and able to take on the men at their own game," and called Motorhead and Magnum "survivors of the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal", bless her. I met Val years later in Philadelphia on the Judas Priest tour. Lovely lady. I reminded her of 'Protect The Innocent' and told her how fond I was of Side A, and she said the only thing she remembered about it was they never paid her. So we had a bit of a laugh about that.
PERCEPTIONS UPDATE: How things change when you hit 30. Playing the whole of 'Protect The Innocent' again now, I think 'Rhythm Of Love' is a prime Eighties ballad of savvy majesty, and the sheer audacity of Kingdom Come has got to be applauded - they rock the shit out of Wolfmother in the 'dumb diluted rip-off Zeppelin' stakes.
Cinderella can still fuck off, though.
---
1989 'Protect The Innocent'
Found the double-tape in the bargain bin during a boring Sunday family jaunt around Makro or somewhere. Sides B, C and D are virtually irrelevant, but Side A - 'The First Chapter' - was just the best 'early metal anthems' collection ever:
A1 Steppenwolf - Born to Be Wild
A2 Black Sabbath - Paranoid
A3 Deep Purple - Fireball
A4 Motörhead - Ace of Spades
A5 Judas Priest - Breaking the Law
A6 Ted Nugent - Scream Dream
A7 Ozzy Osbourne - Ultimate Sin
A8 Blue Öyster Cult - (Don't Fear) The Reaper
Every one a killer. Yeah, even A6 and A7 - both tunes taken from slightly too late in both artists' careers, but Ozzy and Ted were crucial inclusions and the songs are just about the best examples from their era. Besides, they're hammocked between 'Breaking The Law' and '(Don't Fear) The Reaper', for fuck's sake, both truly essential tunes for a boy of 13 to hear. And no, '(Don't Fear) The Reaper' is not a metal tune and never was, but it's such a beguilingly brilliant melody, so strange and haunting and dark, that its power should never be underestimated.
'Protect The Innocent' Side A is an instant rock 'reader' for beginners, a bite-size 'Home School Of Rock' project for all us 13-year-old boys who wanted to know what Metallica listened to when they were our age.
Sides B, C and D weren't without merit - Dio, Anthrax, Saxon, Exodus, er, Mammoth - but it was rubbed up against shite like Cinderella, Tigertailz, Lita Ford, Lisa Dominique (back to back!), Femme Fatale and House Of Lords. And this was tape, kids: none of your handheld shuffle functions there, if you wanted to hear 'Metal Thrashing Mad' you had to fast forward through Kingdom fucking Come and the boring old Dogs D'Amour and the horrible, horrible 'Rhythm Of Love', which put me off the Scorpions for years. Fast forwarding took ages. You don't know you're born.
Incidentally, the ludicrously plentiful liner notes were done by Malcolm Dome (fucking natch), Neil Jeffries of Kerrang!, and a young(ish) 'Rocking' Val Potter, who went on about "the rock megastars of tomorrow", reckoned that Lita Ford, Lorraine Lewis and Lisa Dominique were "ready and able to take on the men at their own game," and called Motorhead and Magnum "survivors of the New Wave Of British Heavy Metal", bless her. I met Val years later in Philadelphia on the Judas Priest tour. Lovely lady. I reminded her of 'Protect The Innocent' and told her how fond I was of Side A, and she said the only thing she remembered about it was they never paid her. So we had a bit of a laugh about that.
PERCEPTIONS UPDATE: How things change when you hit 30. Playing the whole of 'Protect The Innocent' again now, I think 'Rhythm Of Love' is a prime Eighties ballad of savvy majesty, and the sheer audacity of Kingdom Come has got to be applauded - they rock the shit out of Wolfmother in the 'dumb diluted rip-off Zeppelin' stakes.
Cinderella can still fuck off, though.
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