R.E.M. – GREEN (WARNERS)

R.E.M. – GREEN (WARNERS)

The sixth R.E.M. studio album saw them making their major label debut after cleanly fulfilling their contract with IRS.  The band parted ways with the label due to their frustration at overseas distribution.  Green was recorded in Memphis with Scott Litt on production.

In many ways this was a real transition and bridging album.  With recording contract allowing/granting them complete creative control there was probably sense of giving Warners what they wanted/paid for, not least now being on a studio budget and longer time to achieve perfection.

The title Green exists on many levels.  The positive perception is one of a flourishing mindset and environment while the negative was the connotation of signing to a label and selling out in the name of money.  Regardless of the apparent mixed messages of the album title, set against a tough political climate with Bush Sr. sweeping the polls the agenda was to write a positive set of songs with hope and the intention to help people through.  And on that Green was released on 8 November 1988 the day George Bush was elected the forty first president of America.

Green played host to four singles: “Orange Crush”, “Stand”, “Pop Song ’89” and “Get Up”.  These are solid songs not necessarily ideal or the norm with view to pushing a band.  Before Nirvana coined the attitude and mentality of having an alternative act having a radio friendly unit shifter, R.E.M. was just as blunt in offering “Pop Song ‘89”, a clear salutation in opening up their stall to a fresh market.  As an album opener it’s placing it obvious.  With a video feature sarcastic topless dancing and bars covering nipples including Stipe’s he was heard to state that it was a piss-take and hopefully the end of the pop song.  If wishes were trees, trees would be falling.  Imagine “Finest Worksong” filtered through happy pills.

Hitting with big statements both “World Leader Pretend” and “Stand” serve as the political joints.  The former calmly acts as a verbal shake pointing digits at armchair politicians while the latter in an altogether more bouncy form urges/encourages the audience to get active.  This was one of the first non-pop R.E.M. songs I ever heard and it felt astounding.

“Dreams they complicate my life”

Peter Buck moved onto mandolin with this record.  At one point there was an idea of the album being half mandolin glory and half bubblegum heavy metal.  In the end the lines were less defined.  It is with “You Are The Everything” that the fresh sound from the new instrument tangs most.  Lines describing moments spent lost in thought sat on the backseat of a car offer grand recollection, a healthy kind of nostalgia with rare substance and value.  This is a summer evening song best served with the sun still bright and surroundings still.  Here is peace.

The crunch occurs towards the end with “Orange Crush” and “Turn You Inside-Out”.  The orange in question is Agent Orange as used in the Vietnam War and as a military like exchange occurs beneath the song the result is quite a dark one.  This was  a song somewhat born from Stipe’s father having being in the helicopter corps during the war.  And in equally expansive measure the words of “Turn You Inside-Out” expresses the power the band felt in its hands from becoming stadium rock.  It’s a chilling statement of the damage they could do.

“I Remember California” offers a dark and menacing closure in sparse fashion.  The trance like delivery of Stipe accompanying an almost tribal drone points to a rough past that looked likely to be the future.

Green serves solid if not superior.

Thesaurus moment: titivate.

R.E.M.

Warners

NIRVANA – MTV UNPLUGGED IN NEW YORK (GEFFEN)

NIRVANA – MTV UNPLUGGED IN NEW YORK (GEFFEN)

Emotions were running incredibly high when this release surfaced in late 1994. It had only been months since Kurt Cobain had killed himself and with it he had left an already miserable fan base reeling, still struggling to comprehend a world that hadn’t necessarily made that much sense in the first place. Suddenly their favourite songs had gone delicate and even more meaningful and emotive. Even music snobs liked this one.
The set was big even before the unfortunate event of the suicide. It was first broadcast in February 1994 and was received by me at a time when life did not necessarily make the most sense to me as I was stuck in some kind of post-school wilderness period without education and without a career in some kind of youth training college limbo surrounded by people who really weren’t going anywhere or doing anything with their lives. I had been lumped in with this crowd when really I wanted so much more. This was the problem of being raised in the sticks.
It begins with the lines “good evening. This is off our first record, most people don’t own it” as the band launch into a gorgeous version of “About A Girl”. With such a defeated announcement it really sets the tone for the recording as being one of downbeat beauty. Whether that comment was necessary or not is open to debate but it certainly was a defining moment that set out the band’s stall and looked/served to make any passer-by or fairweather supporters feel awkward and uneasy.
Following would come a strained version of “Come As You Are” which despite being acoustic still managed to maintain that unique, almost aquatic sound. Stripped down this song now appeared to bare its soul more than ever and became quite a different beast in the process.
The first cover version of the set (the first of six) arrives as Kurt refers to the song as “a rendition of an old Christian song, I think. But we do it the Vaselines way” as they step into “Jesus Doesn’t Want Me For A Sunbeam”. This is a song that I had numerous live electric versions of previously but this really seemed to work as Krist picked up an accordion and lent an unexpected element/edge to proceedings. Surrounded by so much warped but seemingly spiritual imagery was this Kurt fully succumbing to religion?
Next comes probably the most striking track of the set in the form of the David Bowie cover of “The Man Who Sold The World”. This was not expected; this seemed to come out of nowhere. Since when was Kurt a fan of Bowie? It was definitely not an obvious choice and with a bit of electric guitar to slice open proceedings the words seemed to fit as the reluctant superstar expressed a desperation and sense of loss. In the end as with every song the band would cover they improved it and added much value with a new meaning. The Bowie version never held this much depth.
From here tracks such as “Pennyroyal Tea”, “Dumb”, “Polly” and “Something In The Way” (which wasn’t included in the original MTV broadcast) feel very suited to the acoustic setting, possibly even better. “Pennyroyal Tea” particular stands out as being just Kurt on his own churning out a song with a lot of explicit personal meaning. Likewise the transformation of a barn-burning track such as “On A Plain” into a tender piece feels as if it gives the song a new meaning and the gift of reinvention.
The introduction of the Kirkwood brothers towards the end was a stand out decision lending an earthy and haunting tone to proceedings with quite different compositions that still managed to maintain cohesion within the set and tangible teardrops. Originally of the three Meat Puppets song performed it was only “Plateau” and “Lake Of Fire” that were broadcast as the genuinely sweet “Oh Me” for whatever reason failed to make the cut. While the other two songs almost sounded like something Alan Lomax might have discovered “Oh Me” was pure sweetness and when MTV played a tribute to Kurt at the 1994 MTV Awards we were offered a sneak peak/preview of the song which in many ways made it the most anticipated song for when the album was finally released. And as it was coming after Kurt’s demise the line “I can’t see the end of me” now possessed a huge weight. Then “Lake Of Fire” opens with the line “where do bad folks go when they die” and the listener could be forgiven for being slain by this point.
As the Kirkwood brothers exit Dave begins teasingly drumming the introduction to “Scentless Apprentice” before the band enter into “All Apologies” with much clarity and a version that opens sounding very similar to the electric version on In Utero. In its new state the song proves versatile and comfortable on this occasion as the rousing chorus retains its strangely upbeat and positive tone despite being in possession of quite fatal terminology. When it comes to a close it feels extended in its exit.
The real closing arrives in the form of their Leadbelly cover “Where Did You Sleep Last Night?” (“In The Pines”) as the performance transcends several decades of music as the modern version of the blues matches up to and pays homage to its ancestry. Were these words being aimed at Courtney? She didn’t deserve such gesture and sentiment. It’s a beefy song that definitely takes its toll as Kurt’s vocals really get pushed to the limit as he goes all out for the closer even having to take an agonising break/pause just before unleashing the final words.
With this the art of MTV Unplugged briefly became cool. No longer was it Eric Clapton doing a boring rendition of “Layla” instead it now held real merit and emotional value. In some ways I think they gave up the ghost after this, this was the session that would never be topped. This was so much more better than the Pearl Jam programme. Briefly bands jumped on the bandwagon but they were soon exposed, especially Hole who instead just made a mess of their show, emphasising the drama and crocodile tears. Then when Stone Temple Pilots did their session they included their own Bowie cover in the form of “Andy Warhol”. Why be so transparent?
On the whole I avoid this record these days, its just too sad to revisit but whenever I do I am reminded that Nirvana were the greatest band my generation will ever see.
Thesaurus moment: superlative.
Nirvana
Geffen

BABES IN TOYLAND – FONTANELLE (SOUTHERN RECORDS/REPRISE)

BABES IN TOYLAND – FONTANELLE (SOUTHERN RECORDS/REPRISE)

When it came to Riot Grrrl Babes In Toyland were always the band for me.  They were the first proper band that I ever saw live when they played the Hippodrome on Colchester High Street and when I borrowed this album from my friend and put it on a cassette with Meantime by Helmet on the other side.  This was a tape that I wore out.

Babes In Toyland were always a brutal proposition.  At a time when so many Riot Grrrl acts were posturing, they just did it.  And for that, for the longest time they were my favourite female band who I would defend to endless degrees while my apparently more knowing (more snobby) friends would tend to dismiss them.  Indeed when Sleater-Kinney arrived on our stereos I was heard to complain that they didn’t sound like Babes In Toyland.

In many ways Fontanelle was the album we wanted Hole to make.  And perhaps it was the one they could/would have made had Courtney not been so distracted (although she was certainly present her playing on the mind in “Bruise Violet”).  Also it never really sat completely comfortable with Bikini Kill and Huggy Bear, there was just something slightly masculine about the Babes In Toyland sound which felt thicker than the punky, hardcore, lo-fi offerings of the militant Riot Grrrl acts.  Plus they were on a major label (well, in the U.S. at least).

Wow, I have used the term Riot Grrrl in every paragraph of this review so far.

Co-produced by Bjelland and Lee Ranaldo this record is a blast, a force of nature from the off.  Very few ladies in rock have ever held a set of lungs akin to Bjelland and therein lay the band’s strength as her guitar playing, despite being ferocious and effective, was somewhat one dimensional.  Elsewhere in the mix the drumming of Lori Barbero serves as a strong weapon with its thumping and tribal take on percussion.  Barbero was always a wonder.

Coupled with the broken ragdoll cover art, there is something very bratty about this offering.  Bjelland always felt like a feisty little sister that could beat you up and with her came a brutal gang backing her up.  And with a guitar sounding like a motorbike it came with a raucous soundtrack.

As with all great albums it begins with a rocket, the star song and explosive entry.  “Bruise Violet” is a driven and disarming track.  From the off something does not sound right as the drums and guitar tangle together thumping ahead of the air raid siren arrival of Bjelland and her verbal assault aimed at what it would seem is Courtney Love.  As it all ends with accusation “Liar! Liar! Liar!” emerging from this track I find that my sinuses have been cleared.  Seldom has anger ever been so sincerely captured on record.

From here the screaming toddler cum psychopath act continues/persists as the bubbling anti-lullaby “Right Now” exudes an earnest explosion and “Bluebell” offers raucous stabs with Kat still playing the part of a little girl having a demented breakdown.

At this point I fear from a male perspective I am being somewhat patronising and condescending towards Bjelland’s plight.  As a method of expressing and intimidating there is something slightly cartoonish about the execution, one that may not necessarily be taken too seriously in an adult world.  On that note it seems essential that all gestures be loud and hard hitting.  Here was an act more about play and proverb than explicit reference to the corrupt world surrounding.

Always a big favourite with crowds the uber aggressive rewrite “Handsome & Gretel” serves as both a colourful metaphor and effective lash out at the world.  In under two minutes tables were distinctly turned with the description of “a crotch that talks” taking control and care of business.

Having now whipped the audience into shape (into position) a grand and varied dispatch of fizzy and hook laden tracks push things forward expounding how it feels to be a domineering minority.  This is album about fight and explanation.

With “Won’t Tell” we enter tempered territory in alarming and disturbing fashion as Bjelland takes on the role of both abuser and victor seemingly going through a session of recovery with weird sentiment correction.  It’s a song about a bitch and a bastard.  Then immediately afterwards the side ends subjecting the listener to the twisting and haunting instrumental “Quiet Room” that plays out in the manner of blood splattered closing credits.

As the process continues side 2 opens with “Spun” and things feeling confused, placed in an aftermath of dissolution as Bjelland calmly sings towards a mood swing at which point the band violently erupts in accusatory fashion.  Does my penis make me a bad boy?

From here the record makes confident strides to the end as Barbero continues to thump in tribal rhythms that were never necessarily a staple of indie rock.

The eventual pair of “Real Eyes” and “Mother” ensure the record ends on a high as Bjelland offers awkward scenarios first via some kind of bus journey that ends in altercation culminating in spooky vocal exploration and echo before the latter delivers a punchy and affective explanation of personal circumstances seemingly addressing paternal and spousal doubt in an effort to serve females all over.  This anger is not just hormones, not just the rag.

Fittingly it all ends with “Gone” and the sound of smashing glass and high spirited exuberance that echoes misbehaviour.  Eventually the casual strumming peters out, much like the band.

Fontanelle is a blunt piece of work, a solid and singular succession of songs born more of passion than performance.  There have been better, more talented and intricate female indie rock bands but for its flaws and juvenile gestures this is a heroic handling, perhaps misguided from a mainstream perspective but exhilarating from all other angles.

Thesaurus moment: indelicate.

Babes In Toyland

Southern Records

Reprise

URGE OVERKILL – GIRL, YOU’LL BE A WOMAN SOON (MCA)

URGE OVERKILL – GIRL, YOU’LL BE A WOMAN SOON (MCA)

Urge Overkill from Chicago was always one of those bands that you had heard of but hadn’t actually heard.  With three albums out on Touch And Go they came through during the grunge era as part of that host of US indie rock alternative bands that had a vague connection to Sub Pop.  This was a band that dressed up, sang punk soul not grunge.  Surely that meant they weren’t much different to the Afghan Whigs.

By this stage the band was signed to Geffen and thus connected.  The Urge Overkill version of the Neil Diamond had previously been the lead track on a six song EP on Touch And Go called Stull.  Somebody somewhere was listening.

Apparently Quentin Tarantino originally happened across the EP in a record shop in Holland.  The selection goes slightly against the grain as most of his music choices/selections have tended to be retro and original in form.  The track does however have the kind of funk, soul and groove that taps into his tastes and thus he selected it for inclusion in his second movie Pulp Fiction.  The significance of the find also suggests this was the visit to Holland where/when he came up with his famous Royale With Cheese speech/exchange between Vincent and Jules in the movie.  That said with Uma Thurman spread on the cover of the single perhaps it might have been more appropriate for Tarantino to throw an alternative rock bone to J Mascis.

“Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon” is a mucky song when you delve into it.  It’s the end of innocence attached to music.  Indeed read another away it could be construed as the corruption of innocence.  You can see why an act would wish to cover it as the sweeping gestures are stark and testing coupled with an overriding down tone that eventually builds into a huge declaration which enables the vocal range of the singer to soar.  If nothing else, its exercise.

Accompanying the main track is “Dropout”, a song lifted from their Saturation LP.  In contrast to the lead track (the cover version) this is an almost dance number offered by the act in almost an effort to reveal the real sound of the band.  It’s a track with bounce but only limited charm.  Rather than housing passion, it plods.  No dice.

The CD single closes with “Bustin’ Surfboards” by The Tornadoes, one of those surf instrumentals that appears in the movie and on the soundtrack.  In a collection where such songs weren’t necessarily distinguishable this is the one with the sound of waves crashing against the shore.  It’s a kind drive and it got them some scratch.

False pretence.

Thesaurus moment: propinquity.

Urge Overkill

The Tornadoes

MCA

DELUXX FOLK IMPLOSION – DADDY NEVER UNDERSTOOD (DOMINO)

DELUXX FOLK IMPLOSION – DADDY NEVER UNDERSTOOD (DOMINO)

“Daddy Never Understood” may just be the greatest burst of energy ever committed to vinyl.  In essence it is a bratty hardcore song but generally punks were never as playful or creative as this (where the fuck does the string sample come from?).  As the bratty premise screams all over its existence in the style of the world’s worst child you can’t help but feel affronted and made to feel that someone just slammed a pie in your face.

Everything feels cheeky about this package.  The cover shows some probably inebriated young lady grimacing on the verge of baring her breasts at which point the band takes the opportunity to place their initials in the region complete with Xs instead of full stops to fully display/disclose their straight edge credentials (yeah right).  And in initialising their name alone they are nodding towards D.R.I. a move also executed by Dead Fucking Last when referring to themselves as D.F.L.  Nobody ever said being hardcore was straightforward (just straight edge).  And then there is the whole element of the name Folk Implosion being a direct response to the name/concept of being a Blues Explosion.

Then there is the play out groove: “watch out mama…cuz I’m goin’ wholehog”  Didn’t these guys ever take a break from rebelling?

This seven inch houses five songs.  The band never stretched to an entire album during their brief career and away from this there is little else to hold onto.  You can’t put your arms around a memory.

The difference between Deluxx Folk Implosion and the regular Folk Implosion is that this band comes with added Bob Fay and Mark Perretta (in addition to the already demented John Davis and Lou Barlow manning the shit).  That and the reality that it was all tossed off with less care.

Continuing the wreckage “Greetings From Sarajevo” is suitably fuzzy with snotty, screamed vocals wrestling with whistling feedback as the brat on vocals makes silly gestures in a teenage hardcore style.  “Ovenmitt” then sounds like a poor band rehearsing “My Sharona” being driven my unfinished lyrics while “Liquid Bread” is all about the glitch and updated gestures of being wasted.

“Daddy Never Understood” is a track that I can listen to over and over again and always it will move me, make me want to jump up and smash something.  It is perfection.  And being short I can listen to it over forty times in an hour, nine hundred and sixty times in one day.  Perfection.

Knox, Lozenge, Mantra, Time, indeed.

Thesaurus moment: consummation.

Deluxx Folk Implosion

Domino

METALLICA – METALLICA (VERTIGO)

METALLICA – METALLICA (VERTIGO)

I was at school in my final official year when Metallica made their crossover/breakthrough.  Sometimes I used to hang out with some metal heads.  Some of them were my football buddies but a few of them were long hairs in the year above who smoked and appreciated my Nirvana and Mudhoney t-shirts.  Were these really my people?

Metallica was never a band that fully blew me away.  Perhaps it was due to being guilty by association (see above).  Maybe they were a bit too Kerrang for me at a time when I was very much traditional NME on the indie side of grunge.  Or maybe they just weren’t heavy enough for me despite the boasts of both them and their audience.

The Black Album was their fifth studio.  For it they brought in producer Bob Rock who previously was known for his work with Bon Jovi.  Indeed this was a conscious gesture of smoothing the edges and bringing a more accessible sound to their records.  The band may deny this but certainly that was the result.  More in a band’s mind/perception, Metallica were yearning credibility and respect as musicians.

The cover of the record is very black, just like the Spinal Tap cover.  This suggests that somewhere deep inside Metallica possesses a sense of humour (you hope).  Also referring to the record as “the Black Album” would suggest being something of the flipside to The Beatles “White Album” although the results are hardly comparable or polarising.  In a way you see what the band is aiming for (hinting at) but in execution it just doesn’t feel there.

Regardless of such gripes the record opens with “Enter Sandman” which almost immediately became the band’s defining song.  This push truly did get them over and if an album contains the song your band is always going to be best known for, then there is definitely something in there.

There is no denying “Enter Sandman” is a powerful song.  It’s a track seemingly written with a pause in place for pyrotechnics (although perhaps something James Hetfield may later have come to regret when some blew up in his face).

If you think about it really Metallica is a mental band.  It’s an act dominated by a rhythm guitarist wrestling with a Danish drummer with a funny accent.  Meanwhile the lead guitarist houses a permanent expression of fear while the current bass player has to tread carefully so as not to find himself being mentioned in the same breath as the original bassist who was horrifically killed in tragic circumstances.  They’re a great band; just don’t fall into the trap of taking them too serious.

The record continues with another single in the form of “Sad But True”.  Its an aggressive, some might feel misogynistic, track.  Certainly its advances are very confident and somewhat forward.  Did I really once think I could apply these gestures to my own situation and attempt to “charm” a lady with them?  I could/would not dare say.  There’s no escaping the fact, taken at face value this song is creepy.  And yet it was a single.

Old school fans then appear to be appeased with “Holier Than Thou” which displayed that the previous model of the band still existed if that was so desired.  However then comes “The Unforgiven” and an epic track taking on a western tone proving both cinematic and masculine in delivery.  Just the right ingredients for a heavy metal single.

For many people though this was their first Metallica record.  I would also bet that in a number of cases it was also many people’s first metal album as it what just presented in the right way to the record buying public and as with anything that is popular you cannot help but suspect it is something spread thin in the process.

And with that it arrives at the single “Wherever I May Roam”, an angst ridden tune highlighting just how manly Hetfield and his buddies are and how much they are willing to sacrifice in the process to impress the fairer sex.  Yes it is nonsense.  And such strange sentiments are then continued with the weird bravado attached to “Don’t Tread On Me” which opens with a heavy metal intro of “America” from West Side Story before rolling in a full on Pantera fashion.  Was this some kind of return of favour gesture?  Don’t tread on me indeed.

The second side of the record falls foul of cliché.  In “Through The Never” the band acts reductive as it slips into stock metal gestures and that horrible galloping sound that comes with classic rock.  That and the measured moment to chill out that comes with “Nothing Else Matters”, a song that pretty much resembles their version of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” with all its orchestration.  And then things get silly.

From here the remaining song titles of the record border on farcical.  “Of Wolf And Man” comes coupled with Hetfield doing a ridiculous call and response with himself (or rather the wolf man version of himself).  Musically it is another track that reminds of Pantera only without the might or economy.  Never let it be said that Metallica never meandered.

Upping the name stakes “The God That Failed” follows in severe fashion.  In its defence though the song does open with a solid baseline that leads into a sturdy delivery although as to which god they are referring remains a mystery to me.  With further research it turns out to be a about Hetfield’s mother’s battle with cancer and her Christian beliefs that prevented her from soughting medical treatment.

It all crashes to a conclusion with “My Friend Of Misery” and “The Struggle Within” in which Hetfield spits out more alpha male angst across a dense coupling of stock rock songs with standard, unexceptional solos served to emphasise the point that this is their record, this is their sound.  “The Struggle Within” particular falls foul with its cheesy militaristic posturing and thrash guitars that sound like machine guns.  This is perhaps a struggle that would have been best of remaining within.

The Black Album is a much lauded but much overrated piece of work (as is the band in general to be honest).  This pop music with loud guitars and snarling temperaments.  It was built with accumulating an audience in mind and thus was designed with itself spread thin.  All encompassing enjoyment of this record is swindle but everything has its time and place.

Thesaurus moment: oversell.

Metallica

Vertigo

METHOD MAN – TICAL (DEF JAM)

METHOD MAN – TICAL (DEF JAM)

It always seemed that Method Man was the first personality to burst out of the Wu-Tang Clan explosion and lead the way.  With his unique bark and rasp he turned out to be the member the audience most associated with and the look/persona easiest to adopt.  In other words, he was the coolest.  “The God of Staten Island”.

Signing to Def Jam was signing to a real hip hop legacy.  As the various signed solo deals seemingly all with different labels he got the deal holding bankable credibility.

In case you do not know a Tical is a blunt laced with sweetness, a joint taken to the next level of expertise and decadence.  And it probably goes a long way to accounting for the pace of this record.  Whereas the indulgence of ODB resulted in a wild man in a wild state, Meth’s found an unnerving balance of menacing and tranquil.

Tical is a murky album.  The mix is weird as the clean beats and soggy atmospherics wheel high in proceedings as a rough collision occurs that does not necessarily benefit all elements.  Also there is a distinct lack of chorus in many of the songs.  It is actually quite a basic hip hop record.  And I wish it were better but Method Man is one of the best.

“Wu Pa Feng (Casanova Wong) kills one of his former gang members (Lung Fei) in a duel.  Before the duel Lung Fei gives his son Shao Lung (Peter Chen) a golden plate that the gang is looking for.  Shao Lung joins his uncles’ travelling kung fu show to improve his fighting skills and escape the gang of killers”.

The original Method Man was a character in the seventies martial arts movie The Fearless Young Boxer and there is definitely a sparring vibe attached to his being, one of ducking, pacing and packing a punch.  He was always had a knockout blow in his pocket, just perhaps not necessarily always the desire to use it.

It begins powerfully with an appropriate opening sample before the droning “Tical” drops with big drums and a heavy Hammond hum as weird call backs accompany his laidback and frightening introduction.  It’s a song that remains in my extended playlist to the day.

Then with that “Bring The Pain” soon follows as a pulsing and driven declaration of intent serving as the lead single.  It is assured and confident, explicit in the message it wants to convey.

The big single from the album isn’t actually on the album.  Hip-hop fans will always know that “Method Man” is his most famous track but pop fans and MTV viewers had “All I Need”, his collaboration with Mary J. Blige that came about when Puff Daddy grabbed the track and watered it down.  And that version is the horrific stump that remains sat on this album.  When a song finds itself reworked so well, there is never anyway back for the original as Blige’s sentiments are revealed as being some kind of weird gang thug chant.  Whoops.

There is a story how during the recording of Enter The Wu-Tang Method Man and Raekwon were encouraged/forced to rap battle by RZA for the right and privilege to spot over his beats.  And from such competition came this track after it was left off the album.  So this is an off cut.

And while that track is not necessarily a dud, examples such as “Release Yo’ Self” with its cheesy take on Gloria Gaynor, do feel a distinct step in the wrong direction.  Later things go equally square on “Mr Sandman” which arrives dead on arrival in spite the best efforts of his friends (including Inspectah Deck) to shout the shit out of proceedings.

In the end I think it is “Stimulation” that perfectly displays what is wrong with the record: there is just too much going on, too much being crowbarred in.  Sure it accomplishes the job of being a rhythmic grind with much motion but then the track becomes muddled by another layer of samples and an unnecessary female hook that appears in place of a proper chorus and thus essentially all you have is Meth ranting away like an angry black version of the Duracell bunny.

Taped onto the end is a remix of “Method Man” with hollers more thump than the version on Enter The Wu-Tang, stripped back in a strangely stifling manner.  It really should work.

This is one frustrating fucking record.

Thesaurus moment: budding.

Method Man

Def Jam

LOVVERS – LAUGHING MAN (JONSON FAMILY RECORDS)

LOVVERS – LAUGHING MAN (JONSON FAMILY RECORDS)

What was it that prompted me to fork out £3.49 for a seven inch single in this day and age? One thing may have been the classily twisted cover art straight from the school of Raymond Pettibon displaying the vivid attitude that accompanied Big Black’s Songs About Fucking LP sleeve. Perhaps it was the label it is released on, the wonderful Jonson Family Records who I had vague dealings with straight back to the first Stanton single released by them up to the Ten Minutemen vinyls and the Peel session(s). Maybe it is the autographs and signatures on the back of the sleeve making it prime for Ebay! Perhaps it is the jukebox hole in the centre. Regardless they got my money.

Eclipsing all these elements however are the dirty sounding guitars and bouncing stride of confidence that accompanies all of the above. With a set of influences that read straight out of my shelves/collection, here is truly one of the last remaining independent releases you will see in stores

In a time when guitars no longer whistle or scream, as inept guitar players take over the shop and make it boring, here is a house for the estranged and desperate, a tune so lumbering it actually helps to be obese to enjoy it.

The influences of this band are said to be Sub Pop grunge and I can hear that in a dirge that reminds me of the Thrown Ups and their ilk, the less conventional bands on the label during that prized era, the fallen heroes. What the record reminds me of most are the early lo-fi punk songs of the Beastie Boys from the Some Old Bullshit compilation, an association in sound that is most welcomed.

And as a bonus you get a band member that looks like a younger version of the dad from Malcolm In The Middle. Lovvers have everything and more!

Thesaurus moment: BBW.

Lovvers
Jonson Family Records

NIRVANA – IN UTERO (DGC)

NIRVANA – IN UTERO (DGC)

I really can’t remember if I bought this CD myself or whether mum bought it for me. It was probably the latter and would probably have been from Woolworths in Clacton. It arrived during the hardest year of my life and the most difficult period as the summer of 1993 proved something of challenge as I exited school, spewed out into the real world with no real education, hopes or prospects. For a long time all it felt like I had was the music around me which helped take my mind of being stuck in a Podunk village in Essex terrified of what the world had for me (or rather what it hadn’t).

In Utero is probably the best of the three Nirvana studio albums. With Steve Albini at the helm managed to better harness and capture the real sound of the band while in comparison Butch Vig (then Andy Wallace) only appeared to gloss it, at times potentially declawing and defanging it. Bear in mind that this was the big record that highlighted how Albini’s credit would regard him as “recorder” rather than “producer”. Whether these were the best songs in their catalogue is open to debate but certainly these were the best sounding.
There was so much rumour regarding their album ahead of time. Again as with Nevermind and Andy Wallace, as reports filtered out that DGC were not necessarily completely happy with the sound of the record Scott Litt was eventually brought in to “soothe” some more of the friendlier tracks. This event however came after stories/tales/rumours that people at the record label had described the album as “unlistenable” and it was looking like their was going to be two versions of the album in the record label friendly CD and the band approved vinyl version. In the end it never quite came to this and (almost) everyone were just about happy with the outcome.
The first thing that is noticeable is the sound of the drums. These are the Albini analogue drums, the part of any band’s sound that has become his trademark. For whatever music crimes Dave Grohl has since committed in the name of crowd pleasing cheesiness on this record his playing sounds immense.
Listened to at the time of being a spluttering teenager the opening words of “teenage angst has paid off well, now I’m bored and old” were such tangible poetry. “Serve The Servants” is a great album opener, probably a better opener than “Smells Like Teen Spirit” because it doesn’t see the album shoot its load immediately. With a huge crash the jarring procession begins in a powerful exertion. By the time the song reaches the chorus the listener is sold.
The intensity continues with “Scentless Apprentice” which provides one of the heaviest moments in the Nirvana songbook and career. Noted for being the first Nirvana track to contain equal song writing shares it begins with a drumbeat lifted straight from “Immigrant Song” and it never relents. Again the guitars sound very different to both Nevermind and Bleach as the song is soon chewing up the scenery with a riff to wreck any occasion before the sound descends into the mania of the chorus as Cobain’s vocals are as insane as anywhere else in their arsenal. As the song nears conclusion it begins bending strange shapes in a freshest manner. This is easily one of the best Nirvana songs for ageing without wrinkles.
In Utero is not quite the singles album that Nevermind managed to ultimately be. Only one song had a video attached to it (“Heart-Shaped Box”) while two tracks were squeezed together for a double A-side affair (“All Apologies” and “Rape Me”) and sadly a final single (“Pennyroyal Tea”) just didn’t make it out in time before Cobain killed himself. Of the quartet “Heart-Shaped Box” proves the most angular but remained faithful to the quiet loud quiet formula that was in a way their trademark.
“Rape Me” is not a good song. In some supermarkets in America the sleeve of In Utero was actually changed to rename this song “Waif Me” apparently but even away from such nanny state inclinations the language of the song is a bit silly in its self loathing. Sure the words sat comfortably against the bleak worldview of Cobain both before and after his death but as an individual grows over the years the passion and impact of this song just does not, indeed it actually becomes quite difficult to listen to and take seriously which is a shame as the song structure itself is another decent slab of the new Nirvana sound at the time. Were the supermarkets right to be so offended in the first place? Then there was the controversy with the song at the 1992 MTV Video Music Awards. Moving on.
Thankfully the album soon picks up steam with “Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle”, a song quite similar sounding to “Serve The Servants” in its motion and delivery. Here it would appear that Cobain be comparing the treatment and apparent madness of his wife Courtney to that of hounded thirties/forties actress Frances Farmer. How little did he know. With a chorus of “I miss the comfort of being sad” this was seemingly a declaration of despising popularity in addition to being dismissive of being happy. It works on so many levels, whether intentional or not this was a person that appeared to know his audience.
As with the bookends “Polly” and “Something In The Way” on Nevermind here came “Dumb”. This song never really resonated with me, it was too light and soppy. I would happily quote “my heart is broke but I have some glue” when really I just still wanted to destroy. And then with that the first side comes to a close.
In the grand tradition of beginning side two with a blast (“Negative Creep” and “Territorial Pissings”) the breezy “Very Ape” plunders into proceedings with a guitar sound that first rattles and then begins to whine like a wind instrument as the momentum of the song cheerily builds to rousing declaration of “I’m very ape, I’m very nice”. With great lines such as “if you ever need anything please don’t, hesitate to ask someone else first” really sums up for me the slacker mentality and true inclinations of Generation X. I always wondered if “Very Ape” came from the comic book Eightball which had its own branding of Value Ape.
With this comes “Milk It” the second heaviest blast on the record and the possessor of the most menacing basslines that Novoselic would ever deliver in a Nirvana shirt. The eventual explosion of guitars is far from subtle as it cuts through proceedings and endangers species (“I own my own pet virus, I get to pet and name her”). The line “look on the bright side of suicide” would prove somewhat troubling six months later.
“Pennyroyal Tea” was another song that seemed so meaningful to Cobain but as with a few other selections on this album it fails to age well. I think it is in the gestures of self loathing that ultimately prove difficult to maintain in any walk of life. To choose this song as a single would seem a belligerent decision even though the “Leonard Cohen after world” reference might appeal to a new crowd of people (our parents).
To this day “Radio Friendly Unit Shifter” remains one of my favourite Nirvana songs. I fear that in the mind of Kurt this makes me something of a mark as for him (as per the song title) this song was an obvious no-brainer as the name suggests it may have been written on autopilot. Then again a song as good as this is not going to be an easy composition. I think the synch for me was the live version from the MTV concert that opened with the band emerging to squeals of white noise and feedback before Dave did a click track and suddenly the band tore into the number at the drop of a hat creating one of the most exciting and explosive openings to any live set anywhere in the history of music.
From here the albums ends with the pairing of “Pennyroyal Tea” and “All Apologies”, two singles (albeit one eventually not released) and two of the older songs from the collection. “Pennyroyal Tea” never really did it for me, it was too dry and too down. As I say the Leonard Cohen reference is nice but it aches too much in self-loathing, casting feminist imagery that in this case you can’t help but picture written with regards to Courtney. Similarly “All Apologies” hasn’t aged well. Again most people’s first experience of the song was one year earlier at Reading 92 and by the time it reached this recording the lyrics had been changed and it just didn’t feel as special as it initially did. It remains one of the sweetest and most earnest songs by Kurt but through its existence the song only appeared to get lighter with each variation/version (culminating with being a highlight of the MTV Unplugged set). I just like the noise is all.
Tacked onto the end once more the band drops a hidden track, although this time around it is less of a surprise being included in the tracklisting. “Gallons Of Rubbing Alcohol Flow Through The Strip” arrives with the disclaimer “devalued American dollar purchase incentive track” and sarcastic suggestion that it wasn’t necessarily supposed to make the final cut. Unlike “Endless Nameless” their famous hidden track this is something of a more cohesive jam along the lines of Velvet Underground that sees Cobain mumbling out some “lyrics” that equally sound made up on the spot. It’s a hazy affair but ultimately it rocks and isn’t an act of diminish or devaluation at all. Silly fucker.
With that it all ends on a noisy high. In Utero is without a good record. I think it has a better sound than the other two studio records and some of the heaviest material in the Nirvana cannon but it probably doesn’t have the song writing hooks of Nevermind. Dare I say that I feel a few of the songs here have not aged handsomely (I’m looking at you “Rape Me”, “Dumb” and “Pennyroyal Tea”). That said were my record collection on fire this would be the Nirvana record I would reach for.
Thesaurus moment: zenith.
Nirvana
DGC

SCORPIO SCORPIO – ITH ZHA FITH ZHA (MINGE RECORDINGS)

SCORPIO SCORPIO – ITH ZHA FITH ZHA (MINGE RECORDINGS)

Straight away I have to come clean and admit that this mini album is a few years old now but only a recent discovery for me after experiencing several exhilarating live performance. Not owning this release until now ultimately is several years my loss as I genuinely love the release.

Spread over seven tracks Scorpio Scorpio is a mean motherfucker from Australia, very much in the Mark “Chopper” Read mold with no mould, a one man assault system with a twisted sense of humour and a vocabulary turns the air blue.

The life of a one band as described/explained by Leo Sayer many years ago is a tough and lonely road of existence. It is made even lonelier when you are selling drugs and performing bank jobs. To combine drum n bass with guitars in this manner truly is something of a criminal act, like an Australian Devo on crystal meth, packing to settle nerves.

Scorpio Scorpio is the king of the infectious blast of aggression, slamming/smashing electro music fires through in a lo-fi industrial style as jagged guitars like parchments of AC/DC feedback with hooks aplenty.

The real strength of the release is in the lyrical content that is spat out like bullets – this is pure poetry in its execution. Opening track “Utility (You And Me)” verges on pure pop perfection, following the announcement “fuckin’ turn it up”, Scorpio Scorpio calls out the listener “have a go” before using the basic genius principle of having a chorus including “na na na na na.” It just works!

With song titles as “Ayatollah Rock’N’Roller” and “Cobra (Knobya)” it would take a very stone faced person not to find humour in this record, the type of person that may have experienced a fatality at the hands of Mr Scorpio Scorpio himself. There are no innocent bystanders connected with this music, especially when “Cobra (Knobya)” is concerned.

The one sad flaw of this record are the high fidelity qualities, they are sadly lower than such a collection deserves. For some this could prove a spoiling point but for others this may even make the music.

Thesaurus moment: schismatic.

Scorpio Scorpio

HELMET – MEANTIME (INTERSCOPE)

 

HELMET – MEANTIME (INTERSCOPE)

For the longest time I staunchly defended Helmet, long after their alternative credibility had since dried out.  Then again this was never necessarily a band that was cool, they were just hard.

Helmet was always something of a social butterfly when it came to the alternative rock scene of the nineties.  They started out in New York rubbing shoulders with the Amphetamine Reptile acts (indeed the label put out their first album Strap It On).  Then when the majors came knocking with a huge cheque they found themselves lumped in with the grunge acts even though geography would expose otherwise.  I remember one particular MTV News segment where they covered and suggested the New York hardcore scene was about to take over from Seattle grunge including clips and soundbites from Biohazard and Pro Pain in addition to Helmet and Sonic Youth.  Yeah, as if any of those acts were ever going to break.  Indeed the cover art with its start red reminds of those blood splattered Unsane affairs.  Then after the sun set on the alternative nation and it had been rinsed dry by the majors and MTV, Helmet suddenly found themselves very much a Kerrang (as opposed to NME) band maintaining a staunch following and even slight credit/blame for pioneering the nu-metal sound.  Then there were (and still are) Page Hamilton’s digressions into jazz and the avant garde while John Stanier eventually ending up as the drummer for Battles brings a whole new element to their expansive playing existence.  In other words, Helmet was a band with depth.

Few albums open so thunderously as Meantime and the veritable sonic whirlwind that chews up proceedings and churns the stomach with “In The Meantime”.  This is the sound of band turning the ignition.  And when the dust audibly settles Helmet truly takes over.  It is worth noting that while the rest of the record was produced by the band, recorded by Wharton Tiers and mixed by Andy Wallace, this track was done by Steve Albini.  Let the Nirvana comparisons begin.

The record remains relentless.  Moving on the band truly masters the art of serving up slab upon slab of hard edged guttural guitar smarts.  Then every now and then Hamilton loosens the leash prompting the listener to drop their guard only to be yanked back into proceedings with even more ferocity.

“Give It” was always a stand out track for me, even before I discovered the Eric Bogosian pacing in his apartment having a meltdown video.  This was like heavy metal reggae to me with its slow pace and hard gesture.  And piercing through all this remains the wise words of Hamilton seemingly caked in empathy not least with the great mantra “self help self help confidence”.

“Your will to speak clearly exposed too much.”

To this day “Unsung” remains the most recognised Helmet song.  And it’s definitely a solid selection containing all the exciting elements that made the band a more worthy proposition than dissenting voices would allow as it surfs/sails the fine line between a heavy as hell hardcore metal onslaught and alternative strides exhibiting bruised gestures and fond declaration.  This song is everything that was good about Helmet.  It opens with a thumping pulse, Stanier’s unique snare sound and Hamilton screeching his guitar with feedback that sounds like an elephant’s roar.  Then as the song powers forward the jerking stop-start motion is resounding blunt as it all works to a soaring and stirring chorus.  It is quite the irony that a band derided by music snob ultimately be known for a song entitled “Unsung”.

And then the album gets heavy.

From here the pace steps up as the amplification appears to rise.  “Turned Out” is the most brutal track on offer in this album.  In a weird era of nineties neon gloss Hamilton focuses on well dressed individuals orbiting his environment as a magnificent breakdown eventually builds towards a focus attack on Downtown Julie Brown for some reason.  I guess Club MTV was just representative of everything they hate(d).  Again there is irony here considering that Helmet was often considering one of the most conservative looking metal bands on the scene.

Personally I will always have “You Borrowed” as it was the earworm playing in my head on the afternoon that I passed my driving exam (at the third attempt).  This track has one hell of a catchy riff, the kind of thing Beavis And Butthead worshipped at the time.  There is no discounting this song on any level especially when the force comes coupled with yet another prized vocal delivery from Hamilton in anthemic fashion (“trust the dying breed”) complete with call and response chorus.  It even has firebrand breakdown that builds into one of those trademark Helmet solos that remain on the right side of cheesy.  It smelts to the end.

“Every day’s the last day no one sees you.”

With songs entitled “He Feels Bad” and “Better” sat side by side it is with a heavy heart that much of this music is delivered.  For me there remains a definite white man blues vibe and certainly in the low and lazy manner in which the rhythm maintains I still feel a reggae come the latter half of the record as more rough optimism shines through.  There is an education here to be had if the listener decides to invest.

Following “FBLA” on Strap It On, the penultimate track arrives in the sequel “FBLA II”.  This is really quite removed from the precursor offering more lumps and another exploration into modern existence using heavy tools and artillery.  As the band hovers at the mid point gearing up for one final assault you have never felt in safer hands.

Without missing a beat “Role Model” closes the album packing up proceeding in appropriate fashion opening with the line “assume my stance” and further address to audience to not fuck up and get things wrong.

This record remains amazing.  Nobody made being ordinary sound so magnificent.

Thesaurus moment: concrete.

Helmet

Interscope

VARIOUS – MUSIC FROM THE MOTION PICTURE SOUNDTRACK RESERVOIR DOGS (MCA)

VARIOUS – MUSIC FROM THE MOTION PICTURE SOUNDTRACK RESERVOIR DOGS (MCA)

Reservoir Dogs was a huge movie.  It changed so much.  Quentin Tarantino landed on Hollywood during a great time for culture.  Coupled with grunge rock suddenly there was a rebellious streak with an independent mindset smashing through.  Perhaps the early nineties were merely about the marketing men finding a way of selling such product or maybe there was a genuine wind of change.  Regardless to be a teenager and exposed to things such as these were priceless to my development.

I missed Reservoir Dogs at the cinema.  And due to the BBFC refusing it a video release, it was there for a long time.  Unfortunately I was still in my final year at school and technically would not be able to get in.  Eventually my dad managed to get a pirate VHS copy from a person at work.  And even that was not without effort.  However I finally had my hands on the goods and with the movie still running regular adverts in the newspapers I was able to place a bespoke sleeve on the case.  On surface level this was a fine film for fans of violence and swearing but for film geeks this was gold.

For the first few years of my career in accountancy I would wear a black tie to work.  I wanted to look like the gang, be one of the misters.  However one day while helping a client do some photocopying he passed on his regards.  He thought I was in mourning.  Then later on my Gringo Records friends completely burst my bubble when Tom pointed out that I actually looked like a bus driver.  I wonder why we were never close friends.  The problem was that the goods in the opening sequence soundtracked by “Little Green Bag” by the George Baker Selection is one of the coolest things ever filmed in motion picture history.  In my mind in my black tie that was what I looked like.  The reality was I did not.

Music was key in the movie.  It gave a weird grounding with a sharp seventies attitude while being solidly fixed in the now.  There was a maturity to these songs and sounds as if you big brother were driving things.

As per in the movie dry comedian Steven Wright serves as the DJ taking the listener on an adventure managing with his dialogue to turn the mundane cool.  At this time every word and term uttered was like touching something and turning it to gold.

In addition to these spoken accompaniments this disc features two clips from the movie itself which were always great tracks to drop into compilations for an added gloss of cool.  Of these it is the Mr Brown interpretation of “Like A Virgin” by Madonna (“Madonna Speech”) which members of my generation would memorise and recite with glee.  Knowing such things was credibility in a can.  I still remember one of my Gringo Records colleagues declaring how cool I was for merely owned an Edward Bunker novel.

The songs here are strange and weird, pleasantly obscure and taken in another context terminally naff.  A song such as “Hooked On A Feeling” by Blue Swede is very bubblegum, gloriously naïve and not necessarily the first thing you would associate with curdling violence.  There’s a weird message of love being purveyed here.  It is perverse.

Tarantino is a smart man.  He always was and is likely to always be.  On that note “I Gotcha” by Joe Tex is the perfect accompaniment to capture and hostage of an enemy.  “I’ll teach you to play with my affection” indeed.  The man is essentially a bush league James Brown but used this way his work is so fucking effective.

A left field inclusion is the two tracks from the band Bedlam who at time of release appeared to be something of a going concern nobody had ever heard of.  Their cover of “Magic Carpet Ride” by Steppenwolf is relatively competent but then their song entitled “Harvest Moon” that isn’t a Neil Young cover is downright confusing.  With investigation it turns out that Bedlam was a band from Nashville fronted by Jay Joyce that were conveniently signed to MCA.

The most famous song from the soundtrack is “Stuck In The Middle With You” by Stealers Wheel.  Most people of my generation knew the song before it appeared in the movie but never in the dark context it now owned.  Suddenly it was a song you could lose an ear to.  And yet held on its own it remains a wonderfully sweet song with the best intentions and loving longing.  The relationship in the track is one to one much like the dance occurring onscreen when it appears in the movie.  To change the entire meaning of song in one foul swoop is quite the feat by Tarantino.

The movie and the album both close on “Coconut” by Harry Nilsson which feels a very goofy way to end what was such a serious and intense session.  Perhaps its placement was tactical to serve as some kind of outgoing therapy for the viewer/listener.  Evidence of a sense of heart and a sense of play.

After this release soundtracks were never the same.

Thesaurus moment: novel.

Reservoir Dogs

MCA

DANIEL JOHNSTON – HI, HOW ARE YOU (STRESS RECORDS/HOMESTEAD RECORDS/ETERNAL YIP EYE MUSIC)

DANIEL JOHNSTON – HI, HOW ARE YOU (STRESS RECORDS/HOMESTEAD RECORDS/ETERNAL YIP EYE MUSIC)

I knew this record before I had even heard it.  Everyone knew this record before they had heard it.  Indeed I would bet that the majority of people aware of this record have never actually listened to it at all.

For longest time I would begin my emails with “Hi, how are you?”  This was not me inspired by or copying Daniel Johnston, this was me replicated Kurt Cobain and his t-shirt of a simple frog that asked the question.  I didn’t know it was an album cover, for me it just embodied a certain naive simplification of the world that came with alternative rock and the grunge era.

Subtitled “The Unfinished Album” this is Johnston’s sixth album, which originally arrived in the form of a self-released cassette.  And to an untrained ear it is something of a mess, much like most of his early output.  It is juvenile and scatological but there is also a drive and a charm that seeps through and causes the listener to pay deeper attention to the work.

Johnston is an artist you can either approach whimsically or literally.  And for the sake of time today I will listen in the latter.

This record was made when he was 22 years old.  And it shows.  His balls do not appear to have dropped as his energy levels are at a painful high, you can’t help but imagine he would have been a nightmare to be around.

It begins with a dark lullaby of self pity in “Poor You” before “Big Business Monkey” arrives sounding like a Ween song being played on a cardboard box.

The much covered and celebrated “Walking The Cow” keeps things running on course with relentless further and confused remorse.

You can see why Matt Groening likes Johnston as there is a real rubberband reality attached to proceedings, right down to the twanging sound made by cheap instruments employed.  The distinct fine line between immaturity and self loathing continues with “I Am A Baby (In My Universe)” as he continues to work within his own world, his own mental Springfield.

A quick succession of tracks less than thirty seconds long suggest life more as rehearsal than the functioning real deal as Johnston works very on the “saw what you see” methodology of composition.

The angst is all in the song titles quite frankly: “I Am A Baby” comes followed naturally by “Nervous Love” before the sad resulting resignation of “I’ll Never Marry” is then accompanied by the nagging message “Get Yourself Together”.

The quality improves as the record goes on and with “Desperate Man Blues” and “Keep Punching Joe” Johnston turns miniscule lo-fi crooner as he sings along to Johnny Dankworth records in a very effective fashion (complete with full on self introduction on the latter).  Not that the creativity offered improves the tone or mindset of the piece.  Indeed “Keeping Punching Joe” is quite aggressive.

“Hey Joe” here is not a Hendrix cover; indeed it is almost a strange take on “Hey Jude”, albeit one sung with tears.

Continuing the chemistry and experimentation “She Call Pest Control” offers a weird kind of Beat poetry that sounds straight out of some San Francisco coffee house in the fifties, a broken kind of Ginsberg.

It all ends with “No More Pushing Joe Around” which sounds like a defensive playground rap seemingly delivered by a person that has just learned how to stand up for themselves (“he’s up and punching now”).  Then we get a weird outro and its done.  What cost?

There is a cliché statement attached to teenage angst/depression that goes “it gets better” and it’s a comment that also serves Johnston’s music output well.  Approach with caution and fascination only.

An unhappy accident.

Thesaurus moment: mar.

Daniel Johnston

Stress Records

Homestead Records

Eternal Yip Eye Music