Friday, December 16, 2005  11:22 am 

your reality ain’t more real than my reality, for real

(Lessons on postmodernism learned watching Amityville Horror 3)

I am 1FG and I am a person. I also happen to like records.
This is going to be my last post for a while.
Flying to Madrid on saturday.
Come to 20jazzfunkgreats at the Penthouse (7-1AM, free entry, cheap drinks, Massimo guests) and the Do at the Core club (11-3.30 AM 4 quid w flyers all sorts of good shit happening), to say bye hoo-lay. The Do gang’s going on a bender.
Repeat, bender.
Repeat bender in Madrid on saturday, will probably be prancing around at Nasti to whatever the fuck with my teresas.
I am packing my bag. No, I am typing but thinking of packing.
That’s the reason my writing is so shit.

Man Man are the sort of band that I normally wouldn’t be enthusiastic about but. Lazy fast description.

‘Gypsy big band post punk music all over the cabaret with operatic vocals influenced by Tom Waits’

Or something.

Actually I love ‘em, especially when they get supa-doopa rythmically going like, like, now.

Man Man- Push the Eagle’s Stomach

…with drums so chunky and organic you can see the veins running up and down this song’s body n pulsating full of deranged blood. It flexes its muscles and jumps on top of you and grabs you by the shoulders and makes you dance even though meebe you don’t feel like it. Aw c’mon, don’t be a bore, join the drunken zingar party. Help the guy, the carny got his soul!

This is from the new album, Six Demon Bag, out next year in ace fu, and it sounds like Umberto Eco description of hell as sculpted on the wall of a church and perceived by a god fearing monk, i.e., way more fun than a fucking freezing monastery on top of a ridge. Way more fun than the radio.

High five to Julie who rocks the Driz Horse at the Khyber in Philly!!

(picture from Tom at TVPARTY, go see!)

The Social Registry must be the finest purveyors of haunted music in the land, Telepathe, Gang Gang Dance, Icewater Scandal, even Blood on the Wall have something of the night about ‘em. Needless to say we love the label and we love the bands and support them to death and if we were God they’d be playing at our party. That doesn’t make much sense but trust me, it’s good.

Psychic Ills, as their name kinda hints at, aren’t the Shins. Nah, they do the psychedelic stuff and they do it with a mastery I’d say comes from paying attention to the teachings of the gods of space thunder and the krautonese juju orchestra.

Erm, yeah. They also have a shoegazey thing going, not the twee kind, no, the one that brings to mind gangs of very scary bikers who don’t talk loud and then they kidnap you and offer your soul to a pagan god in some lonesome field south of Wales.My Bloody Valentine were bloody weren’t they?

This is more Spaceman than Slowdive.

So, they have the drone, that’s what it’s about, persistence, its like at the beginning of Lost Highway, camera focuses on a dark corner, nothing there, huh, the camera zooms into the dark corner, gets closer, something there, no, there’s nothing there, it’s all black, camera enters into the heart of darkness, nothing there, nothing has changed really but you cos you’re spooked out. ‘I knew my name’ achieves that sort of tension using a similar technique, it’s all about discipline, when the track delves into fiery waters you have already drowned, died and gone to hell, this time not described by Umberto Eco but by William Faulkner, actually don’t these drums have a good ole kick ass country kick?

The album, Dins is fucking impressive and will be released next year.

Psychic Ills- I knew my Name

God, I have namechecked Umberto Eco, David Lynch and William Faulkner, I think I am going to play some rugby now.

Laters people! Have some amazing xmas!! (will probably pop in to say hi before that, this time on a full nicotine withdrawal syndrome but surrounded by lovely cats)

(check out more Psychic Ills and many other good things at Daughters of Invention, one of the best mp3 blogs around)

labels >> xxjfg

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