Tuesday, September 18, 2007  3:21 pm 

Metal sheet music

Impalled & heartfelt apologies for the slow beginning of the week kids, we’ve got peoples moving around like this was Bobby Fischer on sludge doom coffee over the randomised chessboard, and sentimental shizzle going on too, your small and rusty robotic scribes happen to be defective & infected with bizarro emotional virii, hence their relative neglect of this lovely piazza where dark ravens peck out the eyes of fools & philistines, and bring pounds of scarlet flesh as cutesy gifts to those good kids who play the game simply because it feels good and right and true to play it, and always win in our hearts.

But fear not, we are on this for the duration, i.e. until we shuffle off this mortal coil down into a pool of worms, we have nowhere else to go, normal society wouldn’t have us, and we love it here anyway. We hope the black cloud you will very soon hear slimily dripping out from the chunky loudspeakers of our manic abode on this frightful night on whose wooden door Autumnm, the Grim Reaper’s nephew just started knocking, *knock knock*, will make you rattle snake and shake like you were Donald Sutherland doing the danse macabre with little red riding midget hoodies, dat two-step jig in the path towards final enlightment, one covered with mud, tears and blood, one worth treading, beware in any case, there be monsters in the forests you’re about to enter.

I remember I spent a couple of months last year staring fearful at the black face of the Drift, I swear it fucking stared back like that shadow inside which David Lynch’s camera zooms in at the beginning of Lost Highway. Eventually, corageously, I bought it, I went home and placed it spinning in the stereo, seconds of ominous cracking, silence, and then the darkness precipitated from the ceiling and engulfed me like a hungry beast, imagine Arkham Asylum’s apocryphal sequel, where a moribund and insane Bruce Wayne is tortured by ghosts & shadows lurking in the corners of a bedroom covered in dust, nothing but a metaphor of his shameful memories as a psychotic vigilante.

Well, Scott Walker is about to return with ‘And Who Shall Go to the Ball and What Shall Go to the Ball’, a contemporary dance piece to be performed, in the coming weeks, in different venues throughout the UK, the frantic stabs of the strings slide to and fro like Sir William Gull’s silver blade shearing rib cage to reach squeeze extract the heart, apocalyptic brain-numbing bells clang clang another element of a blood-splattered staccato crime scene, this would surely be the sound with which Prince Prospero was taken beyond and below by the spectre of Red Death.

Scott Walker- 4th Movement

We thank Mr. Walker for going to places we wouldn’t dare even thinking of, we fear and admire his vision, we observe aghast from a private box on the side of the stage as the crimson cloud of this music expands unabashed, the illusion becomes nightmare not illusion, such darkness, such beauty

I once read Liars say somewhere (the Stool Pigeon perhaps?) that they always have the peoples with the Neubauten t-shirts at the first row of their gigs, this is high praise indeed given the architectural precision and feral energy with which Blixa and the rest of the werehound family behave themselves on stage, and makes sense inasmuch Liars have indeed placed these pale black-clad figures in a prominent position in their particular altar of rhythmic unholiness, the genius artwork for their ‘There’s Always Room in the Broom’ 10” is but a testimonial of their admiration.

Anyhow, our heroes’ heroes are our heroes, especially when they get down like this, buster.

Einsturzende Neubauten- Weil Weil Weil

Although their soon to be released Alles Wieder Offen appears uncharacteristically tender, intimate and even sweet, we are posting, because that’s of course our vibe today, a mighty Golem of a tune which runs furious down the dark streets of the ghetto tearing walls down with ts arms of clay that is iron, Weil Weil Weil’s percussive steamroller builds up with that disciplined, taut energy one tends to find in the best kraut-rock, sleet of hammer thunderstorm for a sexy collapse of all structures, this sounds like an ancient carol for a biomechanical nightmare, and it is turning us on, oh dear, guess it’s that Berlin thing again.

&&&&&

You know how Brighton’s XXJFG participated club the Do was killed for the dorks’ sins, well, we were going to have the mighty Creeping Nobodies off big beautiful Canada playing for our 2nd Anniversary. But we were killed.

These, and some other logistic problems mean that the Creeping Nobodies have a bunch of dates in the UK they’d love to fill with gigs, house parties, whatevs. They just want to play and destroy you with their beautiful post-punk early Liars with more Nick and less Blixa awesomeness attack. You know the score, or maybe not, find out, and get on with the program.

Creeping Nobodies

Dates- October 1st, 2nd, 5th, and 6th.

If you can help, or know someone who can, drop the Creeping Nobofies or us a line, get involved, help, it’s for a totally good cause.

Love & Fiery kittens xxJFG

labels >> Horror, drums