Tuesday, January 27, 2009

666. The number of...Davila?

Click aqui for a lock of my hair.

Puerto Rico. Land of the Coqui, which for those who are not in the know, is a little frog with a tail that disappears as it grows older. It is also the land that half of me is from. My father was Italian and my dear old mum, the prostitute and alcoholic, was the Puerto Rican.

It's a common stereotype that Puerto Ricans all carry knives. I don't know who came up with that, but I find it weird that I've carried a knife with me since I was a little chimack. If you're still with me, chimack is an invented word for little guy.

Anyway, these guys sing in Spanish so if you aren't bilingual (I'm not) you might not know what the fuck they're singing about, but the best part about that is that it wouldn't matter if you were from Planet Pisspod...the Rock and Roll is there in a big way. So much so that the vibe this bunch gives off can make a few nameable American garage bands want to quit. Most notably, the Von Bondies. Which by the way, have you heard their new record? Ugh..."Love, hate, and then there's crap?" It might be the worst thing I've heard this year.

On a side note, I've heard Davila 666 referred to as a Spanish Black Lips. Go where you want with that little tidbit.

Everyone wants to be Luv'd!

Click here for a slightly used breast pump

The Luv'd Ones were a gang of ladies. One of them was America's first, functioning cyborg. The limits to their power are unknown, but the government felt it best to destroy all of the research and classify anything that might have shown what they were up to.

At first, everything was going well...it wasn't until the lead guitarist short circuited and destroyed the bicycle path that stretched between The Sonics' recording studio and Mary Weiss' childhood home. You can imagine the chaos considering this particular bike lane was over 3000 miles long.

The only thing that the shadowy government was unable to erase were a handful of recordings that somehow managed to get into the hands of the Sundazed label. Thank god for that!

The Mystery Meat goes down swell

Click here for a date with Samantha Micelli.

Once called "the rarest garage band in the world" by somebody Wikipedia can't verify, The Mystery Meat released this record, Profiles, which is their one and only release. They gained some local notoriety, but never really jumped off. I'm sure that's okay and the members went on to become the accountants of the early eighties, but damn if they didn't make a foot stompin' garage blaster to leave us with to remember them by!

It's safe to assume that since this album was released, approximately 300 joints were smoked by whomever was in earshot.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Tune in to the Greg Cartwright Radio Hour!

http://sharebee.com/cc43a16f - Part 1
http://sharebee.com/f66bb6c2 - Part 2
Click here to avoid the Boston Pancake.

For regular readers of this site, you know that Greg Cartwright is extremely well liked around these parts. I'm not alone in my admiration for the man, who it seems can do no wrong when it comes to Rock and Roll. Whenever folks are talking about garage rock somehow Mr. Cartwright's is mentioned. If by the small chance that you don't hear his name it's simply because whoever is doing the talking is probably a fan of the type of rock made by the Australian band; Jet. That's actually awful and I'm sorry that they have no awareness of one of rock's most talented dudes.

Years have passed and I still constantly listen to all the records this man is responsible for. From his work in the Oblivians all the way to The Mary Weiss album. Speaking of that record, I hear a lot of people weren't feeling it, including my wife. Sure that voice doesn't go down so easy all the time, but overall the sound it brings is pretty darn rad if you ask ol' Robot. Don't worry Mary...you can come by for dinner and we'll share a bowl.

Greg and the Reigning Sound haven't released anything in a while and I'm sure that he knows that there is a legion of people out there who are sadly weeping until some new product comes out. I just hope this wait means that the new record is going to floor anyone who hears it. Who am I kidding? Of course it will!

I have no idea when this radio show took place, but it's cool in the sense that now you can listen to a lot of the tunes that inspired him to create the ass kicking records he sells to us.

One of the many special treats on this set is the original "I want to be your happiness" by Nolan Strong. If you need a memory boost, Cartwright covered this track with the Compulsive Gamblers on Crystal gazing, Luck amazing.

Enjoy more than 50 songs on this sucker! A real gift to hold you over until the new album.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

Lovin' and hatin'

Lately I've been a little down in the dumps. I don't really know why though. Maybe it's because I'm always so tired? Who knows? So, to cheer myself up I started thinking about all of the things I love...

Ah...that wonderful thing. I realize that this might be everyone's favorite food, but I don't care. The pure simplicity of it is just awesome, Bread, cheese, sauce. The possibilities are infinite, but I've yet to meet the person who puts cream cheese and jelly atop a slice. There was this one time I met a girl who said she felt unAmerican for not really enjoying pizza. You know what baby? It is and I'm not sure I know how to feel about that. Well, I actually thought about calling up a nearby sanatarium. I can't just let weirdos like that roam around can I?

Girls with tattoos on their chests:

Why not, right? There's nothing that says "I'm dangerous" quite like some silly drawings above the breasts. Now, don't get it twisted, I'm not saying any chick with a chest tattoo is going to make the cut. See the chick below? She definitely does not make it. If you must know why, well...I fucking hate lip rings, toe rings, nose rings, etc; I like the artwork though.


Sweet mercy! What is this magic/tragic potion? I recall being a young lad stumbling through the city streets drunk off of whatever "bum grade" booze I could get. More than twenty years later not much has changed. I still drink the cheap shit. I just stumble less.


I wish I was a super duper science guy with a lot of money because I would spend all of my life locked away in a lab until I perfected an elixir that would elongate the life span of all canines. It is so unfair that on average, dogs only get to hang out for about 14 years. WTF??!? Dogs are better than people. In fact, and again if I was a super duper science guy, I would also teach dogs to speak perfect English. Some of you may think that the conversations might only be about sniffing butt or biting sticks, but really, most dogs would choose to talk about bitches. Oh yeah.

Friday, January 23, 2009

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Hell on wheels...or not.

This hunk of junk was picked up yesterday for a whopping 40 bucks at a local thrift shop. It's rusty, but the frame is solid. I bought this because after getting all of my fancy mountain bikes stolen over the past bunch of years I felt it was time to dip a toe into road bikes.

Of course, I'm inspired by these folks rolling around town on those "fixies" with their cool paint jobs and bright colored rims. This bike doesn't come anywhere within that range. Plus, it may be little small.

That isn't going to stop me from tearing up the town in ten minute intervals. Oh yeah...I guess I failed to mention that my riding will be confined to a three block trip to the train station.

What this bike will do however, is get me more interested in road biking. I know a gut that's been hanging around in the apartment upstairs from my balls too long.

PS. See my headlight? Heh heh...

Update: The very next day I had a little time and the inspiration to see what I could do with my crappy new bike. This is the result of an hours worth of work.