"I’m bootlegging a collection of some of my favorite early Bloggers songs, all from before jam 75. I didn’t ask the dudes for permission! Don’t tell them! Essential and obnoxious Vancouver lo-fi/noise/indie/outsider jams."
"This is the first digital only Hockey Dad release, something I’ll try to keep doing because that shit is FREEEEEEE. I still have a few copies of the Bloggers self titled CD available if anybody likes physical objects that play music anymore. Jarrett from Geographing/Student Loan may still be working on a release with The Bloggers, but I haven’t heard much about that lately so it may have fallen apart."
Post-Armistice India, New Zealand, Britain, Spain, Germany, and the USA. Sequel to last year’s cassette-only Novembrance / Revember mix. My Tiger MacBook won’t run any new browsers, and Mediafire won’t cooperate with the old ones I can run, so until I get a new computer the mix is on Sound Cloud.
Tall Dwarfs Song of the Silents1982 The Homosexuals Snapshots of Nairobi1980 Esplendor Geometrico Moscu Esta Helado1980 Ana Hausen Professionals1981 Index Shock Wave1967 The King Khan Experience Hammer Ich Vermisse Dich2011 The Cramps Human Fly1979 Alex Chilton Can’t Seem to Make You Mine1977 Mission of Burma Red1981 Daniel Johnston Desperate Man Blues1983 Ramon Jacinto & the Riots Teenstone~1962 Freddie Spruell Let’s Go Riding1935 The Jesus and Mary Chain Happy Place1988 Removed Missing Person1981 Devo Gates of Steel1980 Jay Reatard Searching for You2007
The stage bulged at the Horseshoe. Smash a guitar and pawn the keyboard, then flip a coin to decide if you’ll keep the sax or an extra guitar. A lot of people had fun during Young Guv, and a disproportionate number were holding instruments. The song-writing exists, but the polished pop rock is inefficient, bleaching away any power pop jags in the bloated ensemble. The saxophone added a droning persistence but the keyboard and three guitars only underscored that Young Guv is as inclusive as Toronto is eager to embrace an unspectacular live set from an artist known for solo singles.
Where I stood, The Men were physically painful to listen to. A Confusion is Sex shirt held the bass against an amp until The Men burst into a set of noise screaming in every direction away from hardcore. There might be parameters to their sound but they’re broad enough to sound hardcore playing a catchy song with vibrato arm-manipulated feedback, then dive into a proto-Birthday Party cover. My ears buzzed all Saturday, but I’ll endure it again in a heartbeat.
Release a couple widely-deemed-acceptable records every year for half a decade and see where you are. Thee Oh Sees find themselves in desperate need of an editor. The guy-girl vocals and delayed whoops don’t sound bad, but they aren’t fresh either. Classic garage riffs and Ramones progressions fucked up and affected are pleasant, but when they sprawl outwards six minutes each and the dance floor is balding in front of you maybe playing fast isn’t enough to be exciting. Adjustments begin with expelling the second drummer.
Thee Oh Sees, The Men, and Young Guv at the Legendary Horseshoe Tavern, October 21, 2011.
1. T. Rex Mambo Sun1971 2. Beat Happening Pinebox Derby1992 3. Iceage Broken Bone2011 4. Le Tigre Slideshow at Free University1999 5. Kiiiiiii Sweeeeeeetie2007 6. The Fall There’s a Ghost in My House1987 7. Gloria Jones Tainted Love1964 8. GZA feat. Ghostface Killah, Killah Priest, & RZA 4th Chamber1995 9. Bauhaus Dark Entries1980 10. Deux Game & Performance1983 11. X Adult Books1981 12. David Bowie Moonage Daydream1972 13. Misfits Halloween1981 14. Joy Division Ice Age1980 15. Rocky Horror Time Warp1975 16. Sonic Youth Providence1988
You feel GACK vs. Beard Closet in your guts. Not intestine-derived, it’s a physiological experience rattling the bits keeping you alive. Cold sweat breaks out, you’re sitting on the heavy machinery in the garage downstairs. It’s not industrial, the pieces don’t interlock, a factory isn’t in unison. The rite is harsh, but in a rugged approximation of something totemic.
The guitar dreams its way to a hypnotic melody between the full spectrum of noise, finding an amniotic wave. GACK grabs a thin microphone, alienating without the bulb of an SM58, and he screams, lost in the white noise. The piece is slow twists and evolving screeches instead of precise punches. Tinnitus replaces the set and everyone stirs from their trance, digestive tracts clenched.
A shell of style and attitude, marketable and partially pharmacological in construction obscures any ideology or ideas guiding Castle If. A beat is prerequisite, then elementary French drowning in reverb and apathy, sometimes the audience sitting around cross-sections of trees reacting to her helplessness as nothing happens. The set looks expensive, but sounds preset. The synth twinkling would only lose fidelity on a 20 year old Casio with sustain on high.
The songs ramble, stumbling onto an interesting sound, or an October motif. Being generous, it evokes Alan Vega and Martin Rev’s 1980 album, but it’s not stimulating, it’s vapid without being primitive, package it with a photo and sell it.
Normalcy infringes into terrifying territories, marching to a wedding drum machine, the opening chord’s interpretation sounds familiar to AM listeners. Melodramatic without glamour, gritty and confrontational through superficial adherence to convention. It would be more comfortable if she played with a slide, but instead we get blues and banal intensity, vocals staggering back and forth from conversational to horrific shrieks. I still can’t endorse this, but merit is there. As a two-piece the humour and the dynamic of deranged ennui is easy to see, “I know we all hate our moms.” Revenge Pregnancy*
I’ve never seen a band care less about musical notes than Aunty Panty. They’re an atonal bludgeon in swimwear and black eyes. They’re mad as fuck, they trade instruments too often, but you forgive them because it sounds good in either configuration. In the space between sounds you wonder if the racket is the least important thing. It’s something to be endured, but that doesn’t make it bad.