The Bob Seger System “White Wall” from Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man (1968)
I found a nice copy of this record for $4 in La Crosse over the weekend. The B-side is solid gold, minus the cringe-worthy closer “The Last Song (Love Needs To Be Loved).” Still, well worth the four bucks I paid for it. It’d be a nice record to put on the jukebox during a late night in a dive bar if you’re trying to ingratiate yourself with some local toughs.
DX of Distort/ Total Control/ UV Race/ etc yammers on & on about the FACTORYMEN:
Factorymen Yellow Eyes and the Sound of Vomit LP
Stiv Pepper return with most clever of record. Many song is from other song and radio. There is many confuse to listen with Factorymen. This is record you cannot make a friend or with. Because Factorymen is distinguish in it very idiosyncratic and disturb mind. Expect to
Beyond weird lies Factorymen, cutting samples from orchestral Beatlesinterpretations or rap music into deranged retard greeting 4am radio host. A sampler beats a pulse and through the haze and murk of a guitar and a couple ice cubes dropping onto a vacuum cleaner and an injured septuagenarian moaning into a wet cushion there lumbers more haze and murk. No tendrils point to anything solid with a knowing wink that say “me consider John Cale’s 80’s records to be tits”. The closest thing that might come to mind of a genetically superior saint of God’s kind choice is that Harmonia may have sounded like this without the money, without the Germany, with a sick sense of humour, with better drugging.
There are a couple of SONGS on this one, among the obfuscation of drone and field recordings of piss splattering onto crinkling copies of Mad stuffed in a basket next to the toilet of a sharehouse. Housemates who wouldn’t know the surnames or general whereabouts of anyone they lived with celebrate Factorymen.
It’s just the kind of record that would make a square self identify as a square, in an era where a 14 year old churns through Whitehouse and an entire decade of Russian NSBM before they’ve even heard of Roxy Music. Someone has to call you out, look you in the eye and see you’re made of milk, low fat milk, that curdles and stinks when you’re alone in your bedroom staring at the mirror, cupping your breasts and holding your stomach and swearing not to look at the photos of her on her blog again, or measuring yourself with a ruler and trying to find a median size, and maybe you’ll move to Korea because you’ll be a man there, and take another pill and hope that the anxiety eases enough just so you can learn the riffs for the Mayhem song you want to cover at band practice… band practice with yourself and your laptop.
Someone has to know this about you. Stiv Pepper knows this, he points at you and he is very happy to share the insights of the free spirited with a gleeful HAW HAW HAW.
Unconcerned with moral turpitude, national dignity, personal growth, evocative imagery or the collaborative spirit of music, Factorymen is absurd noise for the entertainment and edification of the Steppenwolf and the alienation and confusion of the mass, which includes YOU.
It is also make many fine time to laugh and shine light into many fruitless task of inane intellectual chatter.
Steve mentioned to me or to the Internet that he always looks for Gaunt’s Whitey the Man 10” in a person’s record collection (a record I promptly bought when found after he and the rest of the beautiful wonderful Pleasure Leftists crashed in my cramped apartment) - and this Factorymen record, in all its undefinable glory, is going to be my version of Steve’s litmus test.
Mid-year Best: 2013
A checkpoint for the year in music so far, mostly for my own benefit: it’s easy to lose track of things with the sheer volume of music released every week. These are my favorite albums, EPs, 7“‘s, cassettes, reissues, listed alphabetically with links for you to check ‘em out/buy ‘em out. If you think I missed something important, let me know; otherwise, I hope you find something worthwhile or something you missed. Asterisks indicate my top picks. Enjoy!
Birds of Maya, Celebration (Little Big Chief) listen//SOLD OUT, repress coming soon
EP / 7” / cassette
Needles, Desesperación EP 7” (Iron Lung) listen//SOLD OUT, more for sale soon from Iron Lung Records
Pleasure Leftists, “Elephant Men” b/w “Not Over” 7” (Katorga Works) listen//SOLD OUT from Katorga Works
Pop. 1280 “Lights Out” from Imps of Perversion (2013)
A new track from Brooklyn’s Pop. 1280, following in the same vein as last year’s excellent The Horror, one of 2012’s great unheralded triumphs. It was a soundtrack suitable for blaring out of speakers in Kowloon Walled City, maddening buzzing and pounding while people work feverishly to manufacture plastic products and gutting cattle in a cramped urban environment. Above the din is Chris Bug, a powerful voice that both encourages and condemns the whole scene. It’s Bug’s commanding presence that sets Pop. 1280 apart from noisy bands that fetishize serial killers or take Brainbombs literally; no gory imagery, but a commanding presence that you obey against your better judgement. All of this is intact on the new track, except the band sounds hungry for blood this time out, the sound of pent-up disgust being spewed forth. It’s an aggressive and tantalizing teaser for an album that I’m highly anticipating. It’s sure to be a sorely-needed shot in the arm come August 6.
by Wayne Levin & Kanoa Zimmerman
Doug Anderson “I Won’t Cry (I’ll Just Laugh Myself to Death)” from “I Won’t Cry (I’ll Just Laugh Myself to Death)” b/w “Hey Mama, Here Come the Preacher” (1971)
A-side from a 1971 single on Janus Records by Doug Anderson. A really killer performance - dig the forced laughter at the end of the track. Some will recognize the funkier instrumental B-side track from the Chains and Black Exhaust compilation from a few years ago. If you’ve got a lead on where I can grab this record (Janus Records 153), get in touch!
Peter Jefferies “The Other Side of Reason” from The Last Great Challenge In a Dull World (1991/2013)
Eee-ssential reissue of this Xpressway classic, done up by De Stijl Records. Not a lot of light to be found here, which sharpens your other senses: the smell of cigarette smoke and some persistent humming and hissing, and that resigned and brave voice. This one’ll help you find your footing as much as it’ll set you on the wrong path; it’s really got that kind of power. Every artist tempted to call his or her work “dark” and “cathartic” should consult this record before proceeding with those labels, because chances are you haven’t earned ‘em like Jefferies has here. A real downer, a true triumph.