Thursday, June 13, 2013

Swampland 'Zine and album review....

    A couple years back I wrote an album review for a friend's website/'zine called "Swampland." It was really cool and I wish I could have written more for the 'zine, too bad it is now obsolete. The album review I wrote was for Jail Weddings' "Inconvenient Dreams" EP. Great stuff! Read the review, check out the EP, and the "Swampland" site; there is a link at the bottom of this post. The contents of the 'zine website include more reviews, interviews, and various writings and art. Be sure to check it out, some great Rock 'n' Roll in its pages. Thanks.

   My music listening experience usually involves a scratchy hair-line cracked blues 78, or an obscure Midwest garage 45 covered in sticker goo. My motto these days is "after '65 it's pick and choose," thus relegating myself to a most uncomfortable plight; that of the disgruntled music fanatic that declares there is no good music anymore. So there is a need to be modern, to search it out, and to aid in the survival and preservation of the spirit of pure individualism in music, similar to preserving those fragile rare-as-hell country blues 78's.
    Enter Gabriel Hart, tortured musical genius and front man of two legendary L.A. bands: The Starvations and Fortune's Flesh. These bands set the soundtrack to an education in inebriation, the dull thump of brass knuckles slamming into the center of one's face, floor fuckin' in rat-like dwellings, the blare of the siren on the ambulance as you're taken by the hospital for a clean up before they carry you to your jail cell. Aw, that jail black coffee!!! 

   But times change, you have to abandon your abandoned hell and ensconce in something a little healthier. So we arrive at Gabe Hart's 4th project, the nine-piece "gang of musicians," Jail Weddings. Their fresh-out-of-the-oven offering is the EP "Inconvenient Dreams. A beauty of a musical junkpile that beckons to take the listener on some strange trip, upon first listen one finds himself feeling lonely at some kind of bizarre mid-sixties teenage talent show set in the bayou of Louisiana. An itchy sense of modern day paranoia love confusion creeps in through the beat of the drum and the "girl group" vocals. You are left with the understanding that love lost is love gained is love lost, and love ain't perfect. "Cheat On Your New Lover With Me," displays some sweet crunchy garage guitar work, "These Fleeting Moments" best exemplifies the "death doo-wop" idea. "I'm My Own Doctor," tells the story of some sick death-lover who takes he cues from a New Orleans hoodoo man. "(Do You Think We're Gonna End Up On) Skid Row," brings in a heavy Dale & Grace influence, had they been informed of our sick corrupt world here in the 21th century. The last track "I Am Fucking Crazy," flirts with absurd love. We've been turned inside-out, we now put our worse faces forward. We've torn down the dam and let the evil waters flood our neighborhoods, and in time little beautiful rivulets of melody will bleed into the unscathed fields on the outskirts of town. All the while the music of the Jail Weddings will be blaring from some loud speaker. Swampland

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Little Lowell praises the Lord!

I came upon this very different and interesting LP at the local Goodwill. It is a 70's country gospel Rite Pressing. Little Lowell Mason, a.k.a "The Singing Midget" a.k.a "The world's smallest gospel singer, (and his group, The Masons) hail from Grand Rapids, Michigan. Mr. Lowell is 46 inches tall. I did not record the music for this post, just a photo of this amazing cover of this LP. From the crazy and weird world of record collecting. Also, enjoy this over-the-top comprehensive website profile on the man himself. The website profile features great pictures, a nice bio, and a "where is he now?" section with a link to his personal website. So don't let "The Little Man with the Big Voice" escape the confines of the sideshow that is the section of your brain that adores life's anomalies. And as an added bonus here is a very cool website/blog by the great Deke Dickerson.
Deke's Link