Today we hit the Bandcamp for various recommendations of mates’ mates’ bands. Send yours in! At worst it’ll be ignored.
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Today we hit the Bandcamp for various recommendations of mates’ mates’ bands. Send yours in! At worst it’ll be ignored.
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I have unresolved literary trauma, so you can have some too. These books are “sexy gender-ambiguous goth boys ahoy” porn from Storm Constantine as early ‘80s goth girl. (Note the cover star’s hand stapled to his forehead.) Apparently originating in a short story she wrote in 1973 at age 17, so David Bowie’s in there too.
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“If you think it’s about the music, you’ve already failed.” The pop culture legacy business, and why Kurt Cobain is still a huge star.
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North Melbourne now has an interactive vintage synthesizer museum where you are actively encouraged to play with the exhibits.
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Click the little “play” button at the top of this. That’s “Jolene” by Dolly Parton, slowed down to what the 45rpm single would have sounded like being played at 33rpm. That’s it. That’s all.
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Yasutaka Nakata, of the band Capsule, is a Japanese pop producer. Connoiseurs of producer disco need to hit the Nakata. He’s all but unknown outside Japan, and that’s just wrong. See also Kyary Pamyu Pamyu and Perfume.
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Canadian Cultural Worker’s Committee: “Death to the Traitors” from The Party is the Most Precious Thing, 1979.
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“doom heavy stoner metal band”, the press release bluntly announces.
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Listened to Scott Walker’s 1984 comeback Climate of Hunter again recently. It’s a strange record, but Scott went strange pretty much as soon as he could. After his early pop hits with the Walker Brothers, he took the chance to make his individual vision obvious by the time of Scott 3 and Scott 4 in the late 1960s. He tried consciously mainstream records in the early ’70s that nobody bought, followed by an abortive Walker Brothers reunion, so Climate of Hunter has that “fuck it” that so often signals something good.
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Music industry prays for rain, one of Mute’s sound engineers, NEVER run iTunes on your music production computer.
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I am frankly boggling that you can do this with a human voice. YOU MUST WATCH THIS.
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This is the finest album by the great Australian band No, featuring Ollie Olsen when he was still angry, before he discovered MDMA and made Third Eye. It’s a live album. I got the record when it came out in 1989 and played it every day for a few months. Invigorating and cheering music that will brighten your soul.
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The original song the ultimate hold music was built around has been found. It’s called, of course, “Picture Perfect”.
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Just rereading the Dave Graney interview I did in late 1992 for Party Fears. This was when no fucker cared about Dave Graney, after his indie hipness fronting the Moodists in the 1980s and his artier cowboy rock’n’roll in the late ’80s and early ’90s.
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In 1983, Mark E. Smith of the Fall went on Greenwich Sound Radio and, between being interviewed and playing records, gave them his definitive guide on how to write.
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This record is … way better than it has any right to be.
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I tried Last.fm around 2009 when I was applying for a job with them. The computer-generated personal radio station thing is amusing in its way. I can’t see myself wandering around with my phone using up my data plan on streaming music; it’ll be strictly a desktop, or rather laptop, thing.
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I was amazed to discover that Slim Dusty’s second-biggest hit wasn’t covered in Wikipedia. Well, now it is ‘cos I put it there.
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I admire old Bill for all sorts of things, none of which are his personality, murdering his wife, fucking up his son or misogyny so jawdropping he literally made it into an artform. I wonder what signifiers wearing a Burroughs shirt would have in 2016 as opposed to 1996 (“yeah yeah you’re hip go away”) or 1986 (“who?”).
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“It has been named as one of the worst songs ever recorded.”
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Nobody ever thinks of Trevor Horn as a shit-hot bass player.
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The press release page (includes album stream) says “dark, alternative, new wave” and studiously avoids the word g*th, but OH COME ON.
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The entire point of Elektroklänge is wanting to be Kraftwerk when they grow up. Not an uncommon aspiration, but not a bad one if you can pull it off, and they do okay.
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I’ve spent thirty years listening out for the most obnoxious and intolerable sounds available. The music that will ruin your world in thirty seconds. I like to think I know a thing or two about this general field of endeavour, if you will. I’d mark this as a contender.
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George Matzkov, Perth scenester, Stems roadie and founder of Zero Hour Records, is putting out a book, to be released soonish: Way Out West: The West Australian Alternative Music Scene 1976-1989. To accompany it, he’s got a Soundcloud of tracks from cassettes and records of the day. If you’re from those times you’ll delight in this.
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It was mid-1986, at the Red Parrot in Perth (name and logo blatantly nicked from the New York club of the same name) in Perth. I was nineteen and had been going out to see bands and drinking in earnest for six months. The Cramps had played (the Canterbury Court Friday 22 August 1986 show, I think) and went there for after-show drinks.
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“Formed by two frustrated drummers” tells you about sixty percent of what you need to know. The rest is descended (through similarly-influenced ’80s indie rock, then the stuff that was left after grunge imploded) from the heavier ’60s psychedelic rock, rather than prog.
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This album, which I played a few days ago for the first time in thirty years, is what the kids these days describe as a “hot mess”. A pile of good ideas mashed in with a pile of terrible ones; the result desperately pretends to work.
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