Can we talk about Marshall Stacks??

How do you download music on the internet? What happened? I don't seem to know anymore. Mediafire is getting less and less reliable and the people who worked for that megaupload site seem to have been arrested and sentenced to death by the legions of squares who want to deny us of, what over the course of our adult music listening lives, has come to be seen as a right. A right to freely download anything we want, at any time, and to use our own better judgement to pick and choose the artists and products that are actually worthy of our cash. Like Reigning Sound albums…  or Flocka.

But I'm gonna look at the positives here. First off:  fuck music. At least the sort of music that costs money on the internet. I mean…  aside from the new Van Halen and that Beach House thing that everybody swears is fantastic, but that I just can't be convinced to give a shit about…   what the hell has 2012 given us? Probably a ton of great shit. Ok fine. I'll buy that, but still, fuck you, I don't care. In 2012 the majority of popular music is a bunch of bullshit filler lumped into a physical product that nobody will actually buy, and structured around 1 or 2 actually decent singles that will tear up the charts, get hella downloaded on itunes and spotify or whatever the fuck, and serve as a catalyst for a world tour where the big money acts will eventually make their real cash. So..  maybe nothing's really changed I guess. There's a new Madonna album out called mdna. That sounds pretty dumb. I haven't heard it yet, and I probably never will, but I spun the shit out of True Blue last night it still rocks ass. Maybe the new one is good. I don't know. Who gives a shit?

But I digress…   that tangent was supposed to be a lead-in to something…  which is that the free stuff floating around in the ether…   this is where it's at man. Like…   creatively bro! This is where it is in 2012. The unsigned bands that are still hungry. Or maybe just the ones that don't give a shit. Or that are too adequately contented floating around in their drugged out universe to be bothered with the pursuit of legitimacy. Or the ones who pursue it adamantly, but just haven't gotten a lucky break. Bedphones. Or Johnny Manseed "rapping" into a vocoder and spitting genius garbage that only I and a few other close friends can actually decipher…  that's mostly what I listen to these days.

But there's a lot of other brilliant stuff out there to be mined that may even appeal to real life humans, and in 2012, I think the best thing a true music lover can do is go fourth and mine the shit out of it.

Which brings me to this thing:  Coolata Lounge CDs

This webpage is home to Marshall Stacks. Marshall Stacks are a band (?) that, as far as I know, are basically comprised of one super insane dude and probably an associate or two (?) just guitar soloing all over the damn place, over walls and walls of crazy sounds coming from god knows where, accompanied by hazy, erratic, and sometimes difficult to interpret vocals. If there's no way you could possibly see liking something that loosely fits such a description than 1. This band probably isn't for you, and 2. I feel sorry for you.

An internet friend of mine likened this music to the Royal Trux album, Twin Infinitives, and that's as good a place as any to start playing the RIYL game. Both efforts are all over the damn place, but in defense of Marshall Stacks, Mannequin Dojo is much much more listenable than Twin Infinitives. In my humble opinion. The melodies are much easier to locate, and though it can be jarring at times, it is rarely if ever boring. And not just because the music is "challenging," but because it's pretty damn great. And quite fun in a "freak out hard and maybe jump around a bit" sort of way.  Really, it's pretty good music for a guy like me - a guy who doesn't know anything about the technicalities of music - to write about. My concise description of the sonic properties:  it's pretty fucking nuts, and you have to hear it to understand it. Which you can do here in a link provided by a Marshall Stacks friend/collaborator:

Marshall Stacks - Mannequin Dojo

Seriously guys…   I'm listening to this right now for what seems like the hundredth time in this still young 2012. Holy fuck. If you take nothing away from this post, please go listen to Naked on a Helicopter / Zeithomesium right now and dare to tell me that this music doesn't just absolutely fucking murder it. This is real deal rocking rock music for rockers, but it's disguised as challenging weird indie shit.

Anyway, let's end this post where it began. With some vague bullshit about illegally downloading music versus buying it from somewhere. The "buy some shit" section of the Coolatta Lounge webpage currently features one line of text reading, "No Items." If this ever changes, I look forward to throwing some serious cash money at this supercharged awesomeness.  Jam this album, and please spread the word. It can only help this band, the state of music in general, and your quality of life. God speed Marshall Stacks. I hope you get a chance to sell out like bastards and pull all links to this shit off the internet.

Oh, and these guys have an album from 2010 that I haven't listened to nearly as often, but it's really good, and it starts off with a minute long "cover" of Rage Against the Machine's Guerilla Radio. So fuck yeah on that.


EDIT:  just thought of a decent point of reference. Ween and 12 Oz Mouse
'sall I got.

Stay Frosty My Friends...

Honestly guys, if you're not jammin on this at least 4 or 5 times a day, well I just don't know if we can be friends. 

Probably best album of 2011. At the very least, best album by a band that people have actually heard of, or that isn't Rick Ross.

I pretty much gave up writing on the internet, since reading back through my shit, I decided I suck at writing and thinking. If I should ever write another post, add a comment or something. Maybe I'll talk about Harry Nilsson or how that one shitty Madonna song was basically a rip off of the plotline from Once Bitten.

Los Dug Dug's ~ Cambia Cambia

(seriously, just skip to the link on the bottom. You don't need to read my words, but you durn well do need to hear this album)

Hola amigos. I know it's been a long time since I last rapped at ya, but I've had some shit on my mind that I needed to share with you. There's an ever growing majority opinion amongst the learned and non-learned alike, that the self titled debut by Los Dug Dug's is their quintessential album, but right now as I listen to Cambia, Cambia, I just ain't feeling it.

Wait, let me take a few steps back...

I try to be an open minded and generally tolerant dude, but the inescapable fact remains that, when it comes to music at least, I'm a very small, shallow man who loves and hates things for all the wrong reasons. I go through phases in musical taste... and though those phases do generally reflect my moods and tastes, more often than not, they're more of a reflection of my desire to rebel against people I consider to be know-nothing fuck wits. Are you registering yet? Ok, try this: remember that kid in high school that claimed Led Zeppelin was the only music worth a shit? Yeah, most of us were that kid. But then remember later in college, where he was still claiming the same thing? And years down the road when he, a perpetually unemployed adult, was drunkenly ripping on you for liking only the pussy shit, while he stood by his convictions? Well... wait, actually in this attempt to paint this caricature in a negative light, I accidentally made him really fucking radical. Way better than most of us actually.

OK, fresh start number two. Did you ever go through the phase of rejecting the agreed-upon-as-awesome classic rock stuff, cause you wanted to get away from all those people and go exploring in mystery music land? And after exploring in that land for a period of time, did you decide that hipsters are asshats (they are) and that Kraftwerk is overrated (they aren't)? Well then, where did you jump to next? And after that, what next? Eventually you get to the point where you've hung out with all sorts of different people who listen to all sorts of different music, and you come to the conclusion that they all suck pretty equally (people and music, that is). Which is to say that... you know, you get bored and want to discover some shit that none of these people listen to. That's why you gotta dig deep and find cult 60's mexican psychadellic acts that kicked off their career playing as the house band at some shithole strip club.

Enter Los Dug Dug's:

So, this shit started off back in 1960 when a couple Mexican high school students got together and started fucking around on guitars and whatnot, calling themselves Xippos Rock. By 1966 it was a well established band, rechristened Los Dug Dug's (allegedly as an homage to the classic Nickelodeon tv series), and touring all over Mexico and into the states. In their effort to affront our sacred borders and take all our jobs, they were able to dip their greedy little paws into the batch of Beatle-y, psychadellic, LSD pop rock that was going on in America, hijacking some of that flavour back to Mexico. The Mexicans were happy to have it, and there was much rejoicing (in other words, Los Dug Dug's were the first band to make this style big down there).

So yeah, that's the back story. The rest of that stuff can be found on wikipedia.mex or something. As for my own two cents: I think this music is neat!!!!!!!!

Seriously, even though I'm sort of describing this as some fucked up shit from Dimension X that only Neutrinos are allowed to listen to, for all the build up, this is just straight forward 60s/70s psychedellic pop rock. It's very much in the vein of the Beatles, Zombies, Os Mutantes. And, in my humble opinion, this album could be played smack dab in a marathon of those three artists and not suffer a bit by comparison.

So, here it is: Cambia, Cambia. What makes this one so good? Stacked against some of their other albums, this one's more focused on straight forward, excellently crafted pop songs. Since I'm a sucker for that bullshit, Cambia, Cambia is currently my favorite Dug Dug's record. There's less guitar/drum/whatever solos or general jam-band wankery at play, so it appeals to my stuck up, afraid of pushing the boundaries, young professional self. However, if you want an excuse to get all sweaty and dance around with some freaks on acid, I'd totally recommend their self titled one... or maybe Smog. Fuck it though, they're all fantastic, and this is really a band you should be listening to if you're a fan of any of the following: The Alman Brothers, The Zombies, Jethro Tull, The Beatles, The Mammas and the Pappas, Badfinger, Os Mutantes, or anything else within 1 degree of separation to any of those artists (ie: music with guitars and singing and stuff).

Sidenote: at one point, Armando Nava was talking about a 30th Anniversary tour with special guests Grand Funk. Um... awesome? I don't know what ever came of this, or if all the required players are like... not dead or whatever, but if it were to happen, the sun would probably explode due to radical.

Washington Phillips ~ I am Born to Preach the Gospel

So hey, I went to church today!!! Way out, right? I'm not much of a churchgoer per-say, and I have my misgivings about god and jeebus and allah and jewish god and stuff (well, not so much about those cats as the people who are really into them), but sometimes I'll admit, there's something comforting and rejuvenating about the whole going to church experience. Getting wise, ya know? Makes you feel like Jake and Elwood, and if you're lucky, Jesus H. Tapdancing Christ, you too may just see the light once in a while.

I didn't really see the light today at the service, but I did light a candle just like Dewey Cox's mama once suggested, and that's always fun. Plus I got to see architecture that's much older and more beautiful than the majority of things in America-town (Lincoln Cathedral, highly recommended). All in all, I give the day an A for "seeing stuff" and a meh for "getting down with religious enlightenment."

Admittedly, some jive ass preacher up there talking to me about heaven and hell doesn't usually move me.... more often than not, church services just make me feel awkward, like a spy who just snuck into a Stonecutters meeting without having had a Stonecutter father or saving a Stonecutter's life. In that way, I'm a lot like Joliet Jake. But I don't think this detracts from my aura of God-tasticness. Like Jake, I also prefer to get my enlightenment on via the musical route. He had James Brown rockin the shit hard up in the pulpit, I have old Washington Phillips recordings.

This stuff is mysterious. Mysterious, and painfully... hauntingly beautiful. When, long ago, somebody recommended that I listen to some gospel music from the 20s, I consented, but mostly because that description was so far from what I'd been listening to at that point in my life that I was curious. I had no point of reference, no expectations. The sum total of gospel records I'd heard at that time were either soul singers like Sam Cooke or Aretha covering a gospel tune once in a while or Dylan covers. And the 20s? I knew that they were roaring, and that Babe Ruth did stuff. That was about it.

But the sixteen surviving Washington Phillips recordings immediately hit me. This music is the stuff of legend. Of human beings being perfectly human, and getting that idea down on record somehow. Singing with total conviction, about things they believe absolutely in. 100% realness... like, Wesley Willis, but with completely different sonic properties and no bestiality. Washington's voice is real, and his music is not only real, but totally unique. Today, people literally have no clue what the hell this guy was doing to illicit that sound, though there are many conflicting theories.

The problem with a lot of contemporary christian music, is that it sucks balls. And the general suckiness leads to you not wanting to listen to "jesus" tunes. But sometimes, a song is just perfect, and regardless of your religious beliefs or lack thereof, it's undeniably dig-able (think: stuff Johnny Cash sang sometimes, Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode, Paul Newman singing Plastic Jesus on guitar in that sad scene from Cool Hand Luke). Even if you don't believe in the theology behind it, you'd be a cold, souless sumbitch to not feel these songs. So, without further ado, here are some more such songs: the 16 surviving recordings of Washington Phillips.

Some tidbits:

Fans of Will Oldham music or Herzog films may recognize a track or two. The man has garnished quite a posthumous following/legend. Also, for what it's worth, Phish covers Phillips a lot.

I'm told that there are newer master recordings of this stuff floating around on CD and vinyl, though I haven't heard them. I doubt they'll sound better than this vinyl rip. The scratches add a little bit of human touch... or something.

Earlier today I was involved in a conversation regarding "music that stands the test of time." I'll tell you, this stuff will sound better in 2020 than it sounded in 1920. Not a lot of artists I can think of right now who fit into that unique category.

I was driving home early Sunday morning through Bakersfield
Listening to gospel music on the colored radio station
And the preacher said, "You know you always have the Lord by your side"
And I was so pleased to be informed of this
that I ran twenty red lights in his honor
Thank you Jesus, thank you lord

Greg Cartwright ~ American Hero

First and foremost, let me apologize for not updating this frequently. I'm notoriously useless when it comes to stuff, and add in the fact that obtaining consistent internet in England is about as hard as my dick yada yada olsen twins fill in the blank.

So I recently (as in, mere moments ago) decided to play the game where you're exhausted and hungry and need some sustenance, but you gotta get really creative with it. As in, you're all out of beer, but since your paycheck malfunctioned for the last 4 months, you have no money to buy beer (don't worry, i'm gettin like 6 grand on the 30th... I'll live). When you want some cocktails that pack a Guinness worthy punch to the mind and gut, there aren't a lot of options open. Which is why you try to make hot chocolate with milk and the cadburys mix and the bottle of skol and it fails, but at least it's probably still doing a body good the way milk does. So I'm not really in need of nourishment anymore, but on the downside, I forgot what I wanted to post about.

Ok, remembered... oh man am I gonna drop some foreign shit on you guys. Like, smoking the hooka with the Kazaki bollywood enthusiast with the Turkish girl sitting on your lap as you throw down hard on the bottles of rose and listen to his playlist and terrify the belgian and indian neighbor chicks with your outlandish drunkenness and listen to the soundtrack of Dhoom2...

Wait... I don't want to get too out there too quick. I already went with Kino last time, and my faculties aren't operating well enough to post stuff recommended to me in a drunken haze, no matter how awesome I think they are. Also, I still don't think this blog is ready to feature an Andrew W.K. tribute article.

So we'll do this instead. A few years back, the greatest man in music today, Greg Cartwright stopped by a radio station in Milwaukee to shoot the shit with one of the DJs and to spin some records. He brought along his giant box of old 45s that he'd been saving since he was a little guy, and which basically shaped his musical identity (which, as anybody who knows the dude can tell you, is the perfect musical identity).

This is Greg Cartwright, in two parts, playing and talking about a whole butt ton of old garage, rockabilly, soul, doo-wap 45 tracks, and I can say without hyperbole, that this is probably my favorite ever compilation. In terms of variety, scratchy old school goodliness, and just generally enjoyable VINYL soundingness, this mix just slays. It'll give you alternate identities for Buck Owens, Ike and Tina singing about getting high (shocker), alternate-evolution psychosis, and it'll cure your asthma too (points for any non-Dargan that picks up on that ref).

Greg Cartwright Radio Show Pt 1Greg Cartwright Radio Show Pt 2

Hopefully I didn't fuck up the upload. If I did, just yell at me via internet and I'll try to fix it.

If you don't listen to Jay Reatard every day, you should get with the times fucker. No wonder, he was Greg Oblivian's boy. RIP.

Gotta throw out the meth thought: In the penultimate scene of Roadhouse... when Dalton had a clear shot at Wesley... and he was deeply and emotionally debating whether or not to do him in... would the ending have been better if he'd just have snuffed him out with one clean blow and walked away? The way it was filmed, the option must've entered the director's thoughts. Sure, we wouldn't have gotten the "a polar bear fell on me line," but damn. IMO that would've been the most badass possible ending to the already most badass movie ever filmed.

Кино ~ Черный альбом (1990)

AKA: Kino ~ Chyorny (1990)

This post brought to you by a guy who knows how hard it is to search the internet for something

who’s name and pronunciation are impossibilities for English speaking keyboards.

About a year ago a friend of mine with a city for a last name showed me a very appealing youtube video of a band playing a song. I couldn’t read what the band or song were, since neither I nor my computer seemed to recognize certain Russian letters, but the music contained therein immediately grabbed hold of my brain banana and sent me off on a frantic and arduous search to figure out what the hell was going on here. To quickly summarize what I’m talking about, it was 80s guitar pop in the mold of The Cure, Go-Betweens, Flock of Seagulls, etc. Only it was a lot more Russian. Call me naive or uncultured, this almost immediately makes songs better for me. Instead of picking apart lyrics and being cynical about them, you can let a shroud of eastern bloc style mystery wash over you with the music. It means what you want it to (cliché bullshit alert!). Honestly though, this song was like experiencing Suedehead without having to shake your head at Morrissey trying to pass off some repetitive nothings as legitimate lyrics.

So, going back to where we left off, this is why I desperately wanted to find more music by this band “Кино.” And initially (see: for about a year) I wasn’t able to uncover much. Maybe it’s cause I was younger and didn’t know as much about googlewebs and the mediafire. Maybe it’s because apparently Кино is a catch-all Russian word for cinema/film that heralds mixed google results (footnote 1), or because there’s a Brit prog rock group that was hogging up the attempted English word searches. What I did find out was that the band, Кино́ (or Kino for the English folk who don’t prefer the backwards Ns) was a guitar pop quartet from Leningrad who were active back from ’81 to ’91. Apparently they amassed a pretty sizable following in the motherland, but never really made their way stateside (I can't imagine why). The more I tried to get a hold of some of their music though, the more obstacles I kept running into. Were the links all hidden beneath Russian cold war codes? Didn't Hasselhoff and Rocky IV combine to end that shit back in the 80s?? I mean, I know the band had been defunct for a long time by this point, but I’d have expected at least some items for sale on Amazon. No dice. So… periodic searches continued.

I’ll skip the rest of the details, as I don’t want to get into some Tolkienesque thing here (which, trust me, this mission was just as complicated and grueling as melting a ring in Mordor), but suffice to say, boom. Problem solved. I gots a Кино album, and now you can have it too via this LINK. Their 1990 album, whose name I'm not even gonna try to confusedly write again, confirmed my initial suspicion: Kino were a really really good band, and I will make every possible effort in the future to hear more of their stuff.

Additional thoughts:

Hahahahahaha, this band was part of the "Perestroika" era in Russia. So I guess Donatello wasn’t just making up musical genres in that movie.

Man, I want to hook up with Russian chicks. I’ll impress them by pulling this out of my album collection. They’ll probably look like that google result chick, which, though dick-breakable, is hot (footnote 1).

Footnote 1:

Google image results for Кино

1. a tough manly looking broad with big cans scowling really hard at the camera

2-15. film related shit

16. it is revealed that Кино́ stole their look from young Bono and Echo and the Bunnymen. Fashion’s weird and cyclical… I predict this ish will be back in style w/in 5 years.