Thursday, December 31, 2009
Well kids, it's been a tough year, but we've made it through anyhow. I'd like to thank this time to say thank you to all of the folks who stop by this site and hang for a while. I appreciate you. Hopefully 2010 will be awesome, but I ain't gonna put my hopes in the air just yet. I'm not making any resolutions either. Screw it... I drink, I smoke, I touch myself. That's who I am and it's what my daddy made me. I'm kidding. I was made in a lab.
Anyway, I hope to see all the old faces on January 2nd 2010. I'm giving an extra day because if you're gonna go out celebratin' the new year, you better do it so well that you spend the first day of it vomiting. That being said, I hope I see some new and friendly faces too.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
In 1964 Bob Dylan released this record. If you aren't a fan, then this album sounds like his 3000 other ones. If you are a fan... well, this album sounds just like his 3000 other ones. (Accurate)
That ain't a bad thing.
When I hear this record I imagine laying on the hood of a truck beneath a moonlit sky somewhere in the midwest. There would be an empty bottle of whiskey on the ground near the front tire. Don't feel sad because it's empty... I've got a flask.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
I came to know about this band one night when I went to see Blanche perform at Spaceland or one of those LA venues I barely ever make it to. Oddly enough, Blanche, who I think are one of the greatest bands alive, were the opening act. No complaints here. I got to see them early.
Friday, December 18, 2009
An impressive smell wafted through the room. It was a literature buff's wet dream . A small nation of bookshelves carefully crafted together before you or I were born. The old, important books and their leathered scent were the 300 pound gorilla in the room. It was his haven. The old man was like a timed geyser the way he headed into his office each evening, but to those outside its walls it was more like a library with its dark wood and dim lighting.
Outside of those walls, his life, a circus beneath the exaggerated glow of the ever present public with their peering eyes melting holes in his arrival. Fortunately, it didn't matter because he was the boss. His father, a 1930's businessman at the height of a new real estate boom, died young and left Mr. Charles Thorpe his life long earnings. It's rumored that Thorpe's winnings totaled up somewhere near the high millions. He had an empire. He was the type of man who would support a politician and in the same evening, take liberties with an easy woman he'd encountered at the seediest of dives where no respectable lowlife would lay his hat. An odd fellow to say the least, but Charlie, as they called him, was taught how to turn a dollar quite young. That's why it was so weird to see him being led away in cuffs.
Nobody would have ever thought that old Charlie would ever have committed murder. It wasn't just any murder. No, it was far more heinous than anything that you or I could come up with. There was so much blood it filled the cups in the cabinets. It wasn't just the endless amounts of blood that made the detectives sick, it was the smell wafting out of his hot warehouse office. It had the stench of old, rotting death. He spent a lot of time there. Alone. Reading.
The first girl he killed was named Sarah Cafferty. She was a student from Knoxville, Tennessee. She was in New York for a semester and ended up finding some work as a model. The police said that the skin of her chest was pulled off. Not in pieces, but like a sheet. As if that wasn't enough, she was found missing both hands and her tongue. That was twenty years ago...
Most recently the police found fourteen bodies buried alongside the building in various stages of decomposition.
... to be continued.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
To the readers of this blog who stop by on a regular basis: Thanks. I could surely do this without you, but your presence makes it better, that's for sure.
Click here for kinder moments
Yes you should buy their new album.
Click here for lint practice
Santo and Johnny. Two brothers from Brooklyn. See? It wasn't always such a dancey ass town.
You should have this in your collection because there will always be a moment that you'll need it.
*This isn't the cover, but would you look at those two...
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Sunday, December 6, 2009
My boss at the time, a little Spanish old man that looked like the old version of
Anyway, the Race Bannon looking one kept trying to "culture" me with music from his personal collection. Contently listening to punk rock was keeping me pretty occupied, but I figured I'd humor the guy and check it out.
To make a long story short... I was fired a few days later after the Dos Equis guy did something stupid and I let him know I disagreed in such a way that it became the exact opposite of any possible outcome his heart desired. I pretty much left town after that. I ended up keeping this album.
Please enjoy the fabulous Nina Simone with
Mississippi John Hurt is the complete opposite of let's say... Son House. To quote a comment I read on somebody's Youtube page "His voice is so clean and clear that you could drink it."
Please enjoy Avalon Blues: The complete* 1928 Okeh recordings.
* For some reason, the 13th track "Spike Driver Blues" wouldn't transfer after multiple tries. Happy hunting elsewhere if you want it. Sorry.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
I 'd like to start off this post by giving a great, big thank you to Tim Cohen of San Francisco dark psyche purveyors of garage gloom; The Fresh & Onlys. I had the chance to meet him and guitarist Wymond Miles earlier tonight at this place called the 5 Stars Bar in downtown LA. They were there sharing the bill with the Tijuana Tigers, Cobalt Cranes, and Woven Bones for only eight bucks! It was like a dream come true except...