Any Cockledoo

I told you about how I used to ditch school and hitchhike to Santa Cruz as a teenager, right? Well, this one time two of my friends and I were doing just that, to score a vial of liquid acid. We punks three, posted up at the entrance to Highway 17 and stuck our resin coated thumbs in the air. There's nice enough folks in the area, so you'd usually get a lift within 15 or twenty minutes. It wasn't long before a white pick-up truck with a Black Flag sticker on the back pulled over and let us cram into the cab. Let's call this guy, Jared. So Jared seems like a cool dude. He's in his twenties, kind of a rocker/skater looking bro. We get to talk, and it turns out we have some mutual friends. We blaze. He asks us why we're going over the hill, and we don't bother lying. He's pretty stoked on the idea of tripping on some legit lsd, so he gives us his number and the ride was unmarked by any weirdness or misfortune. Jared drops us off by the Boardwalk, where he says he has some business to do involving his Dad's electrician company. We speedwalk through the flats, avoiding the cholos who are virtually shoving coke and heroin at us. Once down on the Pacific Garden Mall, we skip over to hippie corner and within minutes, a guy named, get this, "Christ", says he can hook up a vial (100 doses) for $75. This is pretty decent deal, so we go with it. Cut to us down at the levy eating full eyedroppers of the acid and smoking some of that lovely Santa Cruz Mountain goodness. Jump cut to a film of us stumbling down the mall doubled over with maniacal laughter. Faces red, pupils like dinner plates, waving cigarettes around like some twisted interpretive dance. We decide that Taco Bell sounds like a good idea. Maybe not to actually eat, but rather to just observe and discuss. Why does that guy in line look familiar? Oh, shit, he's trying to talk to us? It's Jared. I can remember that much, but my attention span is completely shot. I can't really hold up my end of the conversation. "So, I take it you guys got the acid?... ride back... trip, too." I know he's trying to tell me something, so I just nod and try in vain to keep a straight face. Speaking of faces, this dude is just way too close to me while he's talking. I'm outside smoking a cigarette. My friends are there, too, but they're moving across the parking lot. Oh, yeah, the white pick-up w/ the Black Flag sticker... We're headed back over the mountains. Jared is driving, it seems, way too fucking fast. He must have eaten some of the doses, because he's rambling about the skidmarks on the center divide looking like rainbows. No shit. The stereo is on and it's really loud industrial metal. But it's kinda groovy, too. Sweaty sounding. I know this sound, it's gotta be an Al Jourgenson project. There's a lot of kinky samples, and someone keeps repeating, I think, "Gee you're looking good." [The actual lyric is Linger Ficking Good - ed]. It's really fucking me up in the best way possible... great fucking peak whilst snaking through switchbacks. The evening fog rolling down from the summit is alive... this song is fucking crazy... good times, people. Stay tuned. I'm out for now, but let the Revolting Cocks fuck you up with their psychedelic blend of grunts, and groans, and malfunctioning equipment.
...maybe you're in need of a trip.

"It's a RevCo World" (DL)

"...You're the only one - 2 - 3 - 4!"

I really wish I could tell you more about Manson Youth. I know that they are from SoCal (Riverside?), that one of the dudes is a well known tattoo artist, and that these two kick ass E.P.'s were recorded around '84, but didn't see a release until the early nineties. As far as I know, that's all they released, which is a damn shame. I picked up "God's Fun Children" at Streetlight Records in San Jose, Ca., back when they had a legitimate selection of punk on vinyl ('95? '97?). I haven't stopped spinning it since. Seriously good, old school punk rock jams. Maybe you can fill me in on some of the blanks? Did you go to school with these dudes? See them live? Get beat up by them? Maybe you've got a rip of some third generation, cassette dub of demos or unreleased goodies. School me holmes. My two favorite tracks would have to be "Karen" and "Vulnavia", those songs do not get old:





"Some people think that she's really dead [DL]"

Social Fools

Just a heads up: you can follow the 'Wave on Facebook. I'll be doing occasional facebook-only mini posts from time to time. Just shit that is overshared, or when I am too lazy for a complete post. Recently, I put up the "Songs the Mummies Taught Us" compilation of garage classics. Check it out over here:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Nobody-Knows-Im-New-Wave/102912913077666

"Bury Me Next to Robert Palmer"

(This isn't the cover art, it's what comes up when you search for it.)

Alright, so... way back in the first post on this lumbering, somnambulistic, half-rotten and stinking blog, I told you about my lust for Apocalypse Hoboken's music. Then, a short time later, I had the delightfully twisted, handsome, and well endowed singer of that band come by and share some thoughts with us. Todd Pot is many things. At least eight if you hear him tell it. Well, my dear, neglected little blog trolls: I'm half aroused when I tell you that there's more. As was mentioned before, Todd keeps pretty fucking busy in the world of music. Amongst his many projects that are currently playing and recording, there exists a fucking slice of key lime heavenly hair pie called The House That Gloria Vanderbilt. You'll forgive me if I'm brief, but let me just tell you that you're going to love this band. Exactly from the first track in. I don't know exactly what genre you expect me to pigeon-hole them into, and I'm not gonna try. Instead, I'll leave you with this metaphor: The House That Gloria Vanderbilt are the voluptuous swollen breasts of Lilith, as she methodically brings you to orgasm whilst you die, smothered. Buy their stuff on iTunes. Or, just contact Todd, he's a sweetheart, and he'll probably let you have it for free, you fucking peasant. Here's "Heavy Like A Feather."

Bonus video!


Get Stunted (DL)

"I Can't, I Can't, I Can't Cum!"

Why do I love the sound of angry women so much? You would think I'd have had enough of all of their shouting by now. Between my six sisters, my mom, and all of the grrls who were damaged enough to deign me suitable boyfriend material, I've heard enough raised female voices to fill a whole hard drive. Why then am I such a sucker for the female vocalist in abrasive music? Possibly it is the juxtaposition of the typically 'male' traits of violence and anger in the lyrics and attitudes of these wholly feminine creatures. It could be that I've just grown accustomed to the sound. Has it become a need? Maybe I'm such a dick because I want to hear the cracking of a petulant woman's voice as she struggles to tattoo her message into my thick skull with her screams. Who knows? I don't, but thus is my burden. Regardless, here's my favorite Bikini Kill release. I don't think I need to give any of you a lesson on the bands history or importance. Washington state, Kill Rock Stars, Riot Grrrl movement, etc. All of that is well documented, and I don't mean to slight the significance of it, but... Well, but, I will. It's all well and great and life-changing if you are a teenage grrl. I don't know if I get many of those around the 'Wave. Even if I do, I'm hardly an authority on the subject. The important thing here is that you give "Pussy Whipped" a listen for it's sheer, punk-simple, unadulterated ugliness. It's been a favorite of mine since '95, and I hope you can dig it, too. Emasculation is such a nice word, don't ya think?

"They want to use my blood, to color their perfume." (DL)

Chiseled from stone.

Just a heads up: I've recently moved. Why should you care, right? Well, unfortunately, my computer access is limited. I do have a laptop, but it is practically steam powered. It hates blogger, and slows to a dead crawl whenever I try to log in to this site. I do have all of my files, but no way to post anything at this time. I'll see what I can do to get things up again soon. In the meantime, enjoy the archives and visit the links on the right. Thanks, everyone, for all of your support.

Strange Transmission...

It seems that a signal containing the fifth album by Man Or Astro-man?, Intravenous Television Continuum has been accidentally intercepted by our satellites here at NKINW headquarters. Our team of experts has been anxiously deciphering the materials, hoping to find some insight as to why the signal was broadcast in the first place. Formed in Alabama in early 90's, MoA_M? released a slew of data collections in the form of vinyl phonographic audio plates and silicon digital discs. The exact intentions of the group are unknown, as most of these caches were devoid of any direct lyrical statements. Samples of film and television dialogue on the discs, from sources such as David Cronenberg's Videodrome and Rod Serling's Twilight Zone, suggest that the group may have had malevolent motivation. There are certainly a few fringe neurotics and peddlers of the fantastic who suggest that the band were aliens themselves. That the music was only a cover-up, the real message being beamed via subsonic waves directly into the cerebral cortex. These cracks have even gone as far as to proclaim that the band is merely an advance guard from some other galaxy, and that their transmissions were intended to ready us for First Contact. To speed our evolution. Recent breakthroughs in the crypto-linguistics division has discovered that the group may again be becoming active. Rumors of a 'tour' beginning immediately have sent shockwaves of fear and awe through the scientific community. You can view their old website here, but it hasn't been updated since 2005. Better off checking the HTML code at their Myspace, if you want to prepare yourself for your inevitable demise at the hands of these goons.


ITV file #7734onerth: Status: Strictly Classified (DL)

You know what is like, so awesome?

This here mixtape I put together for you. These are selections from my top 25 most played tracks on iTunes. Most of the artists on the comp can be found either here on NKINW (use that handy search bar at the top of the page), or on the blogs in my link list on the right. If there's a track that you really like, feel free to request more from that artist, and I'll probably have something to post for ya. These are the jams that I play almost every night of the week. These are the songs that get me pumping my fists, shredding on my air-guitar, singing along, dancing, stumbling, and sometimes they even give me a boner. That last bit was a lie. This is a decent place to start if you're new to the blog. I've been shamelessly pimping this thing like a motherfucker, but I still don't get too many hits, and almost no comments. What up with that? Well, now this shit's even on Facebook! Yup, once again, I've buckled to peer pressure and hopped on that shitty "social-networking" crap. Enjoy, fuckers.

I'm not sure what the actual track order is, because I'm too lazy to figure out how to get them in the sequence I want. (Click the image below to enlarge. Yeah, click it. Ooooh, just like that.)

"Heaped upon impassive floors. Defeated by forevermore." (DL)

The state of things.

Everyone knows that irony has eaten itself, and parody has replaced subjective reality. I'm not the biggest rap fanatic, but I can appreciate some quality jams. In the last few years, there haven't been many of those, though. Here's a couple clips that pretty much sum up where commercial rap is at.

LOOSEWORLD x Waverly Films: Reggie Watts in F_CK SH_T STACK from LOOSEWORLD on Vimeo.

Are you offended? Good, then we've got your attention:

B-Boom. Da-Blap. Da Boom-boom Blap!

(skip to about the 1:30 mark)

"Love Just Ain't A Game I Play"

Having said that, I do enjoi a good love song. The Queers have been writing love songs, for retards like me, for days. I think this album, "Grow Up", has the best balance of the bands ooey-gooey, "girl, I love you" sap, and straight out rockers. Especially on side B, which opens with two of their toughest jams, "Junk Freak" and "Gay Boy"(combined here as one track). If they really were a Ramones rip-off, as some fingers have waggled, then these would be the songs penned by Dee Dee. This is a good go to album when you've got girls on your mind, but you've got beers in your gut.

Some Notes from the back of the LP:
The Queers Are:
Joe Queer Guitar Lead Vocals
B Face Bass Vocals
W/ JJ Rassler Guitar, Greg Urbatis Bass, Magoo Pirhana Bass, and Jeebs Pirhana Drums.

Remixed by Ben Weasel

"I'll Be True To You" by somebody else.

LOOKOUT #0090
3rd in our Retro series.

"Boobarella, it's funny, that's her name." (DL)

[On a side note: shortly after ripping this LP, my needle bit the dust. I'll be posting some CD's or digital rips for a while.]

Your Mother ate my dog!

First, I'd like to thank the anonymous reader who sent me a link to this one. I hope you don't mind that I'm sharing it here (w/ my own zip and link). Your Mother were from Pleasanton, Ca. and played a hybrid of punk, hardcore, and complete dorkery. Your Mother isn't "cool." Hell, Your Mother isn't even good looking. But, Your Mother was always hilarious, and most importantly, fun! Yup, I know, fun isn't tough, or metal, or punk. Neither am I. Or you, you friggin' posers. I swear I must have seen these guys play a hundred times growing up. Probably more times than I've seen any other band. Gwar and the Swingin' Utters follow close behind. The zip contains their CD, "One Big Inside Joke" and [ I accidentally included] a bunch of tracks that they have posted for free on their website, including a wicked sweet cover of Weird Al's "Dare to be Stupid" (which, by the way, is the best DEVO song that DEVO never wrote). This is one of the CD's that really got a lot of rotation when I was a teenager. I'd have to say it influenced a lot of who I am, even. Because I am a fucking dork sometimes.

One Big Inside Joke (DL)
(Certain songs run across multiple tracks, and some tracks are just a couple seconds long. This is intentional. They're fucking with you, dude. Uh, doi.)

Stress Builds Character

Seriously.

My life is fucked,
as is yours.

Go to work.
Pay your bills.
Do not question.

Stay asleep.
Marry and reproduce.
Stay in debt.

Put it on credit.
Wait until tomorrow.

This is what we get.
The end is now.

[This album is perfect. I can't believe you don't own a copy.]
(DL)

"The Funny Thing About Regret Is..."

I've seen the Butthole Surfers live twice, now. Once, when they opened for Nirvana on New Years Eve '93 going on '94; and again last October, when they shared a bill with the Melvins. The more recent show was part of a reunion tour, and to be honest, left me a little cold. They played most of the songs you would expect, and pretty much note for note. All told, it was a decent performance from a band I've been listening to for twenty years. So why didn't I have fun? Several reasons. Firstly, the venue was divided into terraces, and unless you were one of the first couple hundred people to get there, you couldn't get within 25 feet of the stage. Yawn. And, secondly, they played that shit straight as can be, and Gibby spent most of his between song banter complaining about the shitty venue. Well, sorry Gibby, if you weren't booked at a better club, but it's not the audiences fault. To be fair, ten years will grow you up, and turn down the punker antics. Oh, and they looped the theme from The Price Is Right and played it full volume for at least twenty minutes before they went on stage, which ruined every one's buzz. Maybe that was the point. You see, I first read about the Surfers in the seminal book on early DIY/Indie culture, Our Band Could Be Your Life, and I was like, "holy snappers, these cats are cuhrazy!" They took acid everyday, and fingerbanged girls on stage, then set the drum cymbals on fire, etc. So, when I saw them play in '93, I felt prepared. I wasn't. That was and is the craziest show I've seen, and one of the best. Yeah, it was at the Oakland Coliseum, a huge sports arena, but that just meant they could fit more freaks in the building. The Surfers pulled out the usual antics I mentioned before, while standing in front of three projection screens playing different images, sometimes over one another. Gibby sang through the bullhorn, the music was incredibly loud and mostly unintelligible, and the fans were the weirdest people my thirteen year old eyes had ever set upon. There was a cluster of girls wearing black leotards, doing some kind of interpretive dance. A guy in a wheel chair rocking out, then producing and consuming a strip of blotter acid, at least five hits long. Pot smoke thick as maple syrup filled the air. Anyways, if you get the chance, catch them while their still alive and kicking, but don't expect the legend to hold true. And, in the meantime, enjoy this classic album from 1987. Noise rock at its finest, if you ask me. Oh, wait, back then they were calling it "Pigfuck."

Satan! Satan! Satan!

Killer Bro-ness.

Hey, I'm doing some guest work over at Illogical Contraption. I'll be doing a mini-series about DRUGS, with some of my favorite intoxicant-related tunes. Check out Part 1 here and Part 2 here. Part Three, fuckers.

This is fun:

Make your own KFC sign.

"You Better Not Stop That Car"

ZEKE kills it. Super Sound Racing is their first proper full-length (Pinstriping the Dutchman's Coffin was actually recorded before this, but was deemed unworthy of release until a few years later). It's an album made by and for dirty rock n' roll heathens who love fast cars, cheap beer, and loose ladies. In these early days (1995ish), they stuck close to a Blues-based sound with simple riffs, two-stroke drums, howled vocals, and bendy, blazing fast solos; all played with the tachometer needle pinned in the red. Later albums would see their style evolve into more of a Motörhead affair: playing even faster and with a greater Metal influence. Let me tell you though, there isn't a single album in their catalog that I don't like, including the Epitaph Records ones. I've seen them live just under a dozen times, and I always leave satisfied, having had my ass rocked-the-fuck-off. I'm pretty sure that of the original members who appear on this album, only Blind Marky Felchtone (Guitar, Vocals) and Donny Paycheck (Drums) remain in the current incarnation of the band. This is a vinyl rip, from the Scooch Pooch release.

Mainline!(DL)

Not funny. Not, no...

I crapped out a new comic. It sucks. Don't enjoy it!

"People are more hideous than monsters"

You thought I was gone, didn't you? Well, to paraphrase a young Johnny Rotten, "I'm back! Wif a vengeance!"

Kicking things off, we've got a three track 7" from Tampa,Florida's Pink Lincolns. These guys are what I would call Punk n' Roll, I guess, because they've got chops (guitar solos), but retain a snotty, fuck you-edness sure to offend your parents. "Sumo Fumes" starts off with a cover of X-Ray Spex that should sound pretty familiar to anyone who's ever listened to punk, anywhere. Then we get my favorite track, "Monsters", it's thought provoking and it jams. What else do you want? There's also a third track, another cover, this time it's "I Got You" by the Split Enz. To be honest, I think I've only listened to the last track/b-side, maybe ten times. But, "Monsters"? About a zillion plays in my lifetime so far. Grab it for that alone, what 'ave ya got to lose?

Smell the Fumes Here