Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
And not the Japanese psychedelic band. But some crazy devil worshipping Swedes. However, this is NOT black metal. More like Blue Oyster Cult and Judas Priest and maybe....Boston? I don't know, but it's catchy as shit. I heard about this from the great Haunting the Chapel blog on Stereogum, and there's a song on that blog too, so I'm not gonna post the whole album like I have for some stuff. Just listen to that song on the blog, and I guarantee that it will be stuck in your head for years to come. The album cover rules, too. And here's a video clip I found, but, strangely not a whole video. Not sure why.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
3. Gary War "Hollow Futures"
4. Major Lazer "Pon de Floor" in case you forgot about watching this at Fara's about a year ago.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Alright, Hardworlders. You should definitely KNOW this guy. Ultra smooth voice. Seductive. Looking for his Night Nurse. Unfortunately, the man died 2 days ago. Long battle with lung cancer, which I thought wasn't too surprising since I'm sure he loved the ganja, but then I found out he had a decades long battle with 'other' drugs. Cocaine and crack and crap like that. He'd also been arrested a bunch of times for various crimes. Perhaps he did these crimes because he is the ultimate "lonely lover". Anyway, his eighties stuff is some of my favorite, but he was working in the scene since the sixties. He also penned the first "lovers rock" track called "My Only Lover". Now, I haven't heard that song, but surely it can't be the first "lovers rock" song. There's been tons of rockin' love ballads inna reggae style before. What I normally associate lovers rock with is 1980s-early 90s England. I guess mostly English Jamaicans. However, listening to Gregory Isaacs stuff from the eighties, he definitely pioneered the sound, and it is a wonderful sound. It's a shame that he went as young as he did.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
As a Hardworlder, it is my duty to inform other hardworlders and hardworlders to be about classic books that are shit. In this case it is Graham Greene's "classic" The Heart of the Matter. Graham Greene is one of my favorite authors, although this is only the third book I've read by him. But, The Quiet American and The Power and the Glory (I wonder if Saxon took their album title from that) are 2 of my all time favorites. Great and direct and also very sad.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Not very obscure or underground. This is the shit. I never paid much attention to 'em before, but I'm hooked now. Fast, straight forward black/death/old school metal. Iron Maiden, At the Gates, Slayer. No song hits 4 minutes. Guitars guitars guitars. Riff riff riff. Done.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Slow madness coming on here in Anchorage. The winter is sweeping in and I am dwelling here purgatorially, no aim, no trajectory, save leaving. I wonder if this is what the Rapture is like. As in: remaining. Anyway. But here I am. Again. It's me, again, maniacally bashing my forehead repeatedly into the ribs of a long dead burro, like some depraved lunatic, somewhere in some god-forsaken desert region of the soul. A burro I delivered personally, so many years ago. Jesus. This hideous trek for money. Roll the boulder up the hill, Wirtala. Bellow and belch and snarl and gnash. Right up there, way up into that firmament. Then chase it all deliriously down the other side. Repeat, ad infinitum. The only latin I know- or at least the only bit that matters. That goddamn foul rock. Scorched with my own blood, cum and bile. Smeared Chunks of my skull, brain tissue. My strewn, dilapidated psyche. But within the repetition of it all there are these goddamn slivers, little fucking miracles that justify each foray. You know, moments you couldn't live without, etc..Little diamonds buried in heaps of dread waste. And yeah, it's all hyperbole, a bit at least. It's not like I was born into brothels or given a Kalashnikov at age 11. But still, this place. Anchorage. What a goddamn madhouse. What a slagheap. Refuge of the insane. Where civilization comes to water's edge. This place. It's equally a state of mind I guess. My state of mind. Somehow, this town and I deserve each other. This context just slowly burns me to ash. And every year, it just gets more formidable, the tasks that much more absurd.The principals that much more fucking retarded.
I'm listening to Nick Cave at the moment, so please pardon the drama. Maybe I'll switch that up. You Hardworlders understand, of course. I'll go for some Major Lazer. Time to switch this shit up.
Meanwhile my libido threatens to snap my spine in two. Or maybe it's my ego. Sometimes I can't differentiate between 'em. Perhaps yoga- It's supposed to help pretty much anything, right? Laughing Cow. Belching Weasel. Wait, those are either weird cheeses or bad punk bands. But, maybe, they are my positions.
Hm. File those away.
Finishing up the work season is like coming out of a powerful hallucination. Like, you're right there, in aisle 11 at the grocery store, stark naked, and you have no idea how you got there. A stirring of pubes in the wrong palace? It all seemed so logical, so completely rational to be there, right up to that moment. Then, poof! You're right there, looking at a bottle of V8 juice, so unnaturally nude. Totally exposed, under those flourescent lights.
So yeah. I am the steward and last remaining resident of the Early Riser, the latest out of a series of work flop-houses for whoever has the disorganization and ill-wisdom to commit to a summer up here. Always alternately excruciating, revealing. It's an interesting experiment, the matching up of different individuals, the clashes, the new symmetries and the berzerko- delirious consumption that salves the brain but also contributes to what amounts to a vicious psycho/physiological tailspin. It's kinda like recruiting a crew to man a pirate ship. Every summer. Whole universes of people, every single one it's own weird bird. So this go-around we had The Early Riser, named by Covey Quist. (Delicate nod toward Utah.)
It's a lot like Vietnam, I'd wager. Not the band. No death of course. And it has a definate end. But it is a tour of sorts. A Tour of Duty. Alright. Maybe duty is inaccurate, too. Goddamnit.
All these inaccuracies.
Hold on. Gotta pour another drink. Ok. Whiskey and water. You're all welcome to the bar, by the way. More than enough for all.
Alright. Thanks. On to Ghostland Observatory. It's got The Spirit. And, weirdly, TOTALLY WEIRDLY, they're playing here in Anchorage. Shit, maybe tonight even. For a mere $35.
Yeah. Alright. again. Getting a bit drunk here. Focus, Wirtala! What else is there. An anecdote, perhaps? An experience? An illustration. Yes. Must provide proof. It's on to Beirut now.
Oh yeah, and all that other stuff. Music. The Walkmen have been good to me as of late. I know, I know. The singer. Try out You and Me. It's the record that turned me. What else. Oh yeah. Lee Hazlewood. Cowboy in Sweden. Believe it. Relieve it. Bereave it. Retrieve it. Castanets. Good stuff. Phopherscent. True. And then there's Covey's findings. Planning to Rock. Yes. Major Lazer, belieeeeeeeve it. Glass Candy. And Beyonce. Courtesy of Laura Williamson. 'All the Single Ladies'. So there's that. That magical, catchy fare. It was all the rage around here. Covey's a strong influence. Kinda awesome. Mormon! Awesome!
Into Eno's Ambient Music now. Soon into Bowie's Low. This drunk is stabalizing. Maybe, just maybe, I can jot down something actually substantive. So. I just don't have anything demonstrative right now. I'm terrible at relaying actual happenings, anyway. Consider yourself spared.
I get into these contexts. I engage in their particular, their very peculiar logic. So different, one to the next. Contexts. Jesus. I get attached. I never want to let go. Even the shit situations. Like Alaska. Christ. I find something to hold onto. Getting older, man. Too aware of things. Don't want to let go of The Now. Alright. Another drink. More whiskey. More time.
But New York is another context, and I will land there in some strange state and engage. Mememe. Christ. This Ego. This motherfucking monster. Right outta Monster planet. Into Calla now. Don't think it's doing me right. Too dramatic. Switch it up.
Alright. Live a little bit longer, Wirtala. Blog. Anchorage. Pertinent subject matter. There's not a whole lot more to it. Wrapping this thing up. Just isolation. But more. Like it all opens up a primal fissure. Meaning, purpose, etc... Here for money. Money for life and it's grand pursuit of It's Riches. Taking part in The Great Pageant.
Man, I just wander around this place. Muted fugue state. Giant bottle of Vodka protruding from the trash can. Another husk. Bygone purpose, bygone meaning. Speaking of vodka, I got more. Ready? Cool, just give me a second. It's The Magnetic Fields now. I think we all like those guys
I'm just grasping I guess. For the next step. Just not sure. You fuckers know me. I am no mystery.
Christ, going sideways. The real flounder! Capsizing! Here's to the Hardworlders! Fuck it all!
Yeah. I got all dressed up. Western shirt and everything. Didn't make it anywhere.
And here I am. Slackjawed, eyes gazing. Trying to muster everything and anything to get this place ok. This Riser. Anybody would tell me that I have so much ahead of me. Jesus. Just look at it. The future. But I'm fucking mired. Always goddamned so mired. Attached. Loyal like a dog. A buffalo heading to the edge, horns aimed, mind long fixed.
But I know I'll get it going. Right? Onward into the new scheme. The new logic. New paradigm. New romance. All that weird shit. Jesus. But this stupid apartment. It needs my attention. Kinda desperately.
Come on Wirtala! Come on Graybill! Stanfield! Off we go! Goddamnit! Into the fucking fray!
Saturday, October 2, 2010
汽車が田舎を通るその時 (Kisha ga inaka o tōru sono toki) ~ The train through the countryside
酒屋 (Sakaya) ~ liquor store
新わからない節 (Shin wakaranai fushi) ~ I don't know the new way
something like that
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Heavy Metal Thunder! Hell yeah. I picked this up on my recent trip to Tokyo to visit the other Hardworlder, Joel. I think these guys are one of the first True Japanese Heavy Metal bands, but I'm not certain of that. This is their third or fourth album filled with some true ragers. I noticed it gets compared to Rush a lot, and I can hear that, but it's definitely NWOBHM all the way. 'Cept maybe more like NWOJHM.
- "Crazy Doctor" - 4:13
- "Esper" - 3:45
- "Butterfly" - 5:12
- "Revelation" - 4:19
- "Exploder" - 2:29
- "Dream Fantasy" - 4:34
- "Milky Way" - 4:17
- "Satisfaction Guaranteed" - 3:39
- "Ares' Lament" - 5:30
- "Crazy Doctor" (live English version) - 4:18
- "Dream Fantasy" (live English version) - 4:37
Monday, September 27, 2010
Twinsistermoon, levels and crossings, which my brother just sent me some of their other songs by way of a new fangled idea, dropbox where you can send and share shit online without have to go through your goddamn email. anyway, twin sister moon is a nice easy ethereal sound sleepable to, relaxing and sometimes a little frightening maybe not so sleepable actually, more like evil folky shit with devils and witches, as I guess the name suggests.
myrmyr, the amber sea, kind of a rachel's sound. easier than twinsistermoon and yet still a little dark, maybe white witches mating with the dirty three.
vetiver, more of the past, michael hurley plays violin on one of these tracks. along with about fifty million other folks it seems. good stuff I first heard of at recycled books though I can't remember which album that was... This one's more upbeat folky stuff with some decent vocals and a nice clean sound
sun city girls, singles volume 2, I haven't ventured into this one yet, but I got it for sake of the past. Im looking forward to the bizarre memories I hope this one conjures up.
We happened into a little empty junk shop in koenji and the girl working there was checking out the new cd's she'd just rented. of course jeff recognized it and so we struck up a conversation. She ended up drawing us a little map how to get there.
Usually record stores here are pretty well stocked and I've spent fifty or sixty bucks just on random purchases, but here you can just borrow anything you like and take it home for a listen. Probably the sheer volume of quality music lifts it beyond any similar shops I've seen.
later we spent the evening at an izakaya feasting on raw chicken and beer and sake. later things blurred but there was Okinawa and karaoke in there somewhere