Suicidal Ad-Rock

Digging deep into the mid-90's Grand Royal archives comes a vinyl-only oddity featuring Beastie Boy Adam "Adrock" Horovitz and original Suicidal Tendencies drummer Amery Smith. Between the many B-movie/TV show samples are a bunch of two-minute tracks of Horovitz tinkering with his vintage synthesizer while Smith gets some exercise with a slew of repetitive breakbeats. There are no real vocals per se, just a bunch of silly samples here and there - usually repeating the song title. BS 2000 is best described as a proto version of what Crystal Method and the electronic genre were priming to develop over the next few years. While a good number of the songs are instantly forgettable, there are some real diamonds in the rough. "Baby" is a cool-ass fucking track and deserves to be sampled somewhere by someone. "Copsucker" (which could have easily fit in on the Beastie's Mix-Up instrumental LP) and the weirdly dark "Thrift King" are personal faves. Smith proficiently showcases the jazzy versatility he brought to the best hardcore album of all time and Adrock seems to be having a blast figuring out what his Casio SA-35 keyboard can do. Of course the record has a tough time standing up to the current electronic stuff out there today and most of this could be mimicked today by a 10-year old on his iPad but what can ya do. Enjoy.

Nobody Beats BS 2000

Wednesday Pissing

I got an email from the one-man mastermind behind Finland's Kes-Kusta asking me to pimp his latest release, the 20-song political statement against current Prime Minister Alexander Stubb. Entitled Kiitos, the record is little more than news samples pitted against frying pan-esque drums and über-distorted guitar/vocals. What kept me listening for more than twenty seconds was the subtly ambient track 3 - shades of Corrupted's brilliant "El Mundo" (though thankfully only a sixth as long). For those who are into political noisecore à la RU 486 you will surely find something to like - check out Bleak Bliss for similar sounding stuff.

Thank You

You Guys Hungry?

Here is the famous "lost" record by producer extraordinaire Dick Urine (a.k.a. Richard Yorun) whose claim to fame was producing the early records by a young and confused New Hampshire punker named GG Allin with his band the Scumfucs. After Yorun was killed in a mysterious motorcycle accident in 1987, GG (along with Black & Blue Records owner Peter Yarmouth) unearthed a bunch of forgotten recordings by the deceased producer. Evidently the guy spent the time recording his own music while sitting around in rented studios waiting for his bands to show up. Assembling a motley crew of musicians (including such Rhode Island legends as Jimmy V. Hendricks and Billy "Gee" Goodman on guitar), Yorun recorded nearly a dozen "solo" tracks through the years. GG himself wasn't above contributing some drums to the sessions but don't expect too much - the most all Geeg did was program a tinny drum machine. So how does it all sound? Well, at best it's a strange, snarky slab of lounge music toilet rock. It's not as offensive as some of the song titles may lead you to believe and kinda comes off sounding like a bastard (and less funny) version of "Weird" Al Yankovic. The music is terribly digital - overdubbed guitars straight through the effects processor on top of a drum machine. Yorun fancied himself a crooner and really sings his heart out - unfortunately his vocals can get a trite annoying. The lyrics may raise a dry smile but aren't all that funny, especially if you were expecting some GG-esque filth. Of course the whole record is a tongue-in-cheek excuse for a producer to be the musician he always wanted to be - when someone credits himself as "Vocals & Triangle" you should know what you're in for. There was talk of making a scratch and sniff cover, thankfully it didn't come to that. Enjoy.

Change Your Underwear

Post D

It seems fitting that my 500th post would feature no other than GG Allin since I've blogged more about him than anyone else (Anal Cunt coming in a close second). For today's lesson we have a spirited interview conducted with the Geeg over WSIA 88.9 FM Radio in Staten Island, NY. While some have claimed this interview is from late '86 it was actually recorded in early summer 1988, right after the release of Freaks, Faggots, Drunks & Junkies. GG bitches about everything from Cosloy and Homestead, Black & Blue Records, the Great Kat, Stiv Bators and pretty much the everyone else in the punk scene in general. He is absolutely hilarious (slays poor Psycho drummer Charlie Infection - pictured above) and it is so refreshing to not hear him regress to the token "my audience is my enemy" routine from his later years. GG actually laughs at some jokes and at one point halts the interview to rub his dick all over the station microphone. My favorite part is hearing him talk about the recently recorded material (which would eventually become Suicide Sessions) and how that record was originally intended to be a "GG Allin & The Scumfucs" release. His promos tacked on at the end are a riot as well. Astute 'Genocide fans may remember this interview from one of the GG comps I posted a few years ago but this is an unedited crystal clear rip. Fucking awesome.

Smelly Fish

Razor blade included...

I don't if this technically qualifies me as weird but there have been like 3 or 4 albums I've bought in my lifetime that came with a razor blade. This 7" is one of those exalted (offhand, others include GG Allin's Illegitimate Kids cassette and one of the Abruptum albums) and is probably my favorite. As usual, this was one of the "alternatives" in a Relapse Records order that fucking blew away the token grindcore tripe I had intended to order (sorry Dead Infection). While "Sleep" is a good but not great Dystopia track; "Lifeless" and especially "Fucked Upstairs" are easily my favorite Grief songs. I like Grief but their albums tend to get a bit looooong at times (yeah, yeah I know it's doom metal...) but these songs are amazing. I played the downtuned power chords to "Fucked Upstairs" half of my senior year in college so I could bang gothy art school sluts by pretending it was my own miserable song. I guess the joke is on you bitches! Except for that HPV. Enjoy.

Dismal

Tomahawk Slang

It must have been weird being the second fiddle in a 90's Soul Assassins band after their initial breakout album - so many of those groups had such an overwhelming personality at the forefront - the quickly secondary Garfunkels in the posse must have sucked it up with a "shut up and cash the paycheck while this lasts" mentality. Look at House Of Pain. Danny Boy doesn't even appear in half the songs on Same It As Ever Was - and the opener "Back From The Dead" is clearly Everlast's step towards a solo career. Same with Cypress Hill. Once they hit Black Sunday can you think of one Cypress song that Sen Dog has a prominent part? Yeah he says "Insane in the brain" and shit in the background a lot but to me there is a noticeably strange lack of input. Next case study we have the second Funkdoobiest album - 1995's Brothas Doobie. Benchwarmer Tomahawk Funk appears in only four of the fucking twelve songs (I'm not counting the gay-ass "interlude") on the album - twenty-fucking-five percent. I hope Son Doobie made a note of that for his royalty checks. Well, enough of my soapbox. Funkdoobiest's sophomore release is my favorite album from the band - thanks to Son Doobie's amazing skills - "XXX Funk" and "Lost In Thought" are easy faves but amazingly the underdog "Tomahawk Bang" is the highlight of the album. Man - the fattest beat and coolest groove is wasted on Tomahawk Funk (and some no-name named Sebastain Rousett - don't get me wrong, he's a fucking solid rapper but I just don't know who the fuck he is). Sorry T.F., but the first time I heard this song I sat with baited breath waiting for Son to break in with his verse. Oh well, Brothas Doobie is still an awesome fucking album and great kick back to the days I was dating a chick from Maine whose weird veggie-dog granola mom cultivated her own über-pungent hydroponic weed. Actually, I barely remember anything from those days...

Wake Up, America