Archives : all posts by Dan

Norwegian Arms - "Run! Ran! Run! Rah!"

Apace yr steed, let it sip thin broth and be off. Gather. Apace. The night is thinning, the dawn is nimble, wet thistle thither in the timber. Apace, and foresee. Chase. A young girl, thinner, tender, hidden. Her smile trouble, her touch a beckon. A dip of the brim and a pull on the bridle, a moment to reckon, to furl. But run, boy, run god, run young thing and animal claws. Give silver, give writings, give flowers and run. Through grasses, stained glasses, fine lasses, all spent. The future is coming, but now near gone went.

Norwegian Arms - "Jitterbug"

"It's baby J!" There is little more tired than Jesus kitsch, but this was something special, this was more than dorm room window dressing, or fridge magnet Urban Outfitters nonsense, this was unique. It was a baby jesus, hand-carved out of wood, hand-painted with tempra. It seemed to take the idea of carpentry being the Christ family trade, Jesus was in overalls, with a crucifix on the breast pocket, which had the odd quality of a misplaced premonition. He had long flowing blond hair, like a baby girl. He was lying on his side, in a cherubic relaxation, and was looking at his fingers. Whether by accident or not, his fingers were stained with brown colouration, which contrasted with his peachy blushing face. And his ear was chipped away, leaving a large wood-coloured scar deep into his cheek. The curl of his smile seemed to come from this flaw, finally deaf to the world, happy, to just study his fingers and think about mud.

[Trimmings of Hides is an AWESOME three-song EP, and it's a suggested 4$]
[Jttrbg is free on the bandcamp]

(image is Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas and his brother Francis Douglas, via A Poor Sort of Memory)

T Rex - "The Slider"

The Bugs. God started the war on drugs, to make a weight so heavy even He couldn't lift it. The Bugs are spies, and they report what they see. Every word, every gesture, every curled lip and thrust hip. Every desire, every secret thought, they see it. They remember it. They write it down. Most of spying is boring to The Bugs, cynical after centuries. Ugly people fucking each other, people talking about things they don't understand, eating poorly, making the same mistakes, not apologising. But it's the moments, when they're high and quiet, when brain buzz stops, and breeze blows soft, that The Bugs enjoy the most. They write down those moments, "I think they look like happy, I think I see to smile. They say empty, they face nothing. They want and don't want. They all so quiet."

Ty Segall - "The Slider"

[Buy The Slider resurrected by Fat Possum Records]
[from the now out-of-print Record Store Day release of Ty Rex from Goner]

Digital Leather - "Blackness"

Addicts are weak, they can't withstand temptation. But addicts' motivation is strong, they're fueled by chemicals, by having nothing to lose, they can't be reasoned with. This means, in a true War on Drugs, if the addicts were just able to organize, they would certainly topple the forces of the reformed. The reformed are relying on self-made justifications, of 'purity' and 'long life', the addicts need not worry about that. And although the addicts seems to move unconsciously, there is some pleasure taken from succumbing to a power greater than themselves. "Blackness" is a succumbing, a pleasured surrender, to the hand, the wave, the wind.

"Blackness" is an exclusive preview of the upcoming Digital Leather LP. To be released on June 21, it's a dark, delightful album. Heavy in all the right ways, with a relentless energy, a snarling lilt. It's fantastic.

[order here, it's worth it]

(image cropped from a painting by Gerard van Honthorst)

Jodlerklub Thun - "Alpufzug"

A dull knife spreads butter on a crumbly bun. The knife is set down and the plate is carried away. The knife is rested on a page, and butter stains the paper. Oil stains the paper, in a see-through spot. There are words on the paper, the words can't be read and can't speak for themselves. A fly lands on the butter, its feet stuck in like mud. The window is open and the fly turns towards the light, the breeze, the chimes. Its eyes fragment the light, geodesic in the spring. Outside there are dogs, and hillsides and whole town, cities, oceans. But in here there is only butter, a fly, some crumbs, a letter, and the stain.

[Buy Brass Pins & Match Heads (Mississippi Records) from Midheaven.com]

RatTail - "BYEBYE"

"I can't be expected to navigate in this fog," Henry twisted the knobs on his softly ticking machine. A ticking squeak that sounded like a mouse that swallowed a clock, was supposed to be the "diviner", or so the advertisement said. Better than a compass, and uses wind-up power. Always man the helm, and never get lost again. Sylvia smirked and looked down in her tea. Her face felt dewy, the fog was thick like silk curtains, and her watch had stopped long ago. "Derek and I are thinking of buying, finally." Henry didn't want to talk about Derek. Derek only came up when things weren't going right. She looked out at the grey, "If we ever get home, that is." Henry thought of the portrait of her and Derek in their salon. His face had a gathered look, it seemed to build towards the scooping nose in the center. His face seemed frugal, as if it let nothing through for free, the way he made his money. A specter of his gathered visage seemed to hover before Henry on the fog's grey canvas, and he steered blindly towards it. The ticking squeak of the machine whinnied and warped, and Henry cast a look at Sylvia. She dumped her tea over the side of the boat and went below deck. Henry started to sing to himself, quiet, furtive, low.

RatTail are on an east coast tour right now. Nova Scotians, New Brunswickers, Quebec City-ites, check them out. They have a lovely 4-song EP that they're bringing with them on tour. The EP is streaming at their bandcamp site, and can be purchased there also. Enjoy.

(photo from Papua New Guinea, taken by Timothy Allen)

Chad VanGaalen - "Shave My Pussy"

Martijn vanRisse was a medical artist from Swedemark in the earlier part of the last decade. He gained his first bit of fame with his architectural x-rays, life-size of buildings, using lead paint and de-boned livestock. He stepped it up with a sophomore effort in raising awareness of handicapped persons by getting every self-identifying handicapped person in Norway to wear a giant panda suit for a week, the pictures of which were amazing. And of course we all heard about his re-creation of the spread of cancer through the infamous "Garbage Tumour" that he built at the foot of Swedemanish parliament. Eventually had to be fitted with a flashing red beacon at its apex to keep from being hit by passing planes. Always an avid promoter of health, it was not widely known that he smoked for the entire last half of his short life. He had an intense vanity and wanted to keep his weight down at any cost, and smoking seemed to him the most effective. But to make matters worse, he always hand-painted his cigarettes gold. He used to love smoking while making love and to him a piece of smoking gold between his lips was the most erotic thing in the world. It was the combination of carcinogenic fumes from the cigarette itself and the burning gold paint that quickly robbed him of his health. And in the dwindling months of his life, he spent a large amount of that time being examined by doctors, all the while keeping quiet about his habit. His body was breaking down, parts were ceasing to function left and right. So for his final artistic project, Martijn wanted to make something about the hideousness of the dying body. He placed his whole body in a scanner, and bound RFID bands around all the joints, or as he called them, "gates", of his body. Around his wrist, at the base of each finger, but also at the start of his nose, the base of his penis, the wide of his heel. He wanted to signal the passage of blood and other problems from one area of his body to another. He wanted to signal the steps of the body spreading death through itself. So each time blood passed through a "gate", a note would play from a synthesizer connected to the scanner. Some gates were note-gates, some gates were word-gates, where a pre-recorded singer would sing a word. Due to the noise of the machine and the need to be in a dust-free environment, Martijn could never hear the resulting music that would play from his experiment. But it was not the cacophonous death screams I think he imagined. It sounded more like a sloppy summer camp song, sung in rounds, played by tired, happy, sunburnt people.

[Buy from Sub Pop]

(image by Maya Fuhr)

Austra - "Darken Her Horse"

In a cold chamber on the 95th floor, in a sheer black tower perched above the city, there is a blinking light. A message is waiting. A spherical chair, empty and dolloped in the middle of the room, in front of a permeable coffee table with a few half-read pdfs lying open, their seams cracked with age. After a few moments, the message forces its way in; marked urgent. A voice, a synthetic approximation of the sender's vocality, speaks in a rushed whisper, an accent from the North.

Your highness, it is of the utmost importance that I speak with you. It's regarding your plans to travel. It's not safe, your highness. Since the outages, the trails have become insecure, accessible to fence-breakers and Gypnotic tactics. Not even your mind is safe on these trails, sire. I saw my first hand..--well, I saw him turned inside-out with madness, sire. You met him once, Handish deGrasse, with the long locks and the knack for counting teeth from a single smile. He was a great man, sire, and a loyal servant. It's not safe, sire. I hope this reaches you before you leave. If not, I fear the worst.

On the 95th floor, man is prey to nothing save the winds and the weather. And even in the darkness that stained everything in sight, clouds could still be seen to gather in the distance. They seemed to shuffle together, almost out of need, like Gypnots on a soup line.

[Pre-Order Feel It Break]

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Träd Gräs och Stenar - "Tegenborgsvalsen"

How happily the bird makes its nest, how singular in its movements. Surely it must understand the world entire to build such a lovely nest as that.

[Buy]