Don't Burn The Fires

... On a more wholesome note, I give you the crowning couple of the husband-and-wife band trend, which has spread like wildfire throughout indie scenes since. Toody and Fred and their various drummers still wear the belt for hardest working, most solid and sonically consistent performing, producing independent artists. With a recorded output that didn't quit for eighteen years, Dead Moon have left in their tombstone shaped shadow a legacy of life changing and heart breaking anthems. The legacy began with this record, packed with ballads of rock 'n' roll's seedy past and foreboding future. From the opening twang and drum hit of In the Graveyard to the chillingly somber singing and dreamy guitar of Dead in the Saddle, from the meddling drones of Don't Burn the Fires to the bitter sorrow of I Hate the Blues, In The Graveyard is the prototypical Dead Moon trip, and a fantastic introduction to one of Portland's longest running music/culture institutions.

I'm never comin' home

Somebody gave the GOVERNMENT a FLAT TIRE

In honour of ANONYMOUS' mighty retaliation to Megaupload's shut down and time bought as well as minds changed for the SOPA/PIPA bill, I have decided to post a bite-sized Canadian new wave treat. The Government are a band with a small output and even smaller legacy, but who remain a sought after name in the world of obscure early art punk and new wave 7"s. This is, no doubt, a result of the unique sounds contained on this plastic cylinder from 1979. A perfect sonic polaroid of a highly anamolous moment in music and counter-culture. Quite unlike anything else to come out of Canada and it's punk scene at the time, these four numbers are some delightful little oddities set to a metric, chugging beat. My personal fave remains Flat Tire, which seems a fitting tribute to the impressive work of our fellow online-activist brethren and at least the temporary thwarting of the powers of evil and greed in recent days. Enjoy with beer and salted sarcasm.

Spongey

POWER

All you do is talk, you never act

Hyprocrite, and that's a fact

Visions of unity seem so nice

When I see a fight, I think twice

When I go to shows, see the stupidity

All I can think is "where's the unity?"

VIOLENCE

Rocktober's over: The Final Curtain Call

Here are the last three essential records turning 30 this year, not to say there aren't more but these are the ones that really matter to me at the moment. Feel free to complain in the comments section about my oversights. The first two of these I held off posting because I couldn't easily find download links, but then I thought you know what, everyone needs to own these. If you don't already know easily the most legendary hardcore release of the 80s or the most popular interpreter of Berlin-era Bowie/Iggy then you have plenty of research to do.
The Raincoats are a different case, what an underrated band! I had my first exposure to them at their POP Montreal performance this year which, while it only came close to blowing my mind but was undeniably badass and got me really excited to dive in to their back-catalogue. This record in particular is so far beyond most of the rest of the 'radical' music coming out of England at the time. For all those that assumed (like I did) the Raincoats to be another '77 retro punk outfit whose novelty was being composed of lady punkers you're way off. This record somehow manages to bridge the gaps between mid to late 70s avant-rock experimentalists like Fred Frith and Henry Cow with the progressive pop sensibilities of a Robert Wyatt and a dry, generally guitar-driven post-punk recording aesthetic. On top of it all these gals endow the performances here with effortless displays of 20th-century-classical training and involved knowledge of exotic idioms which gives an early world music edge to the compositions. Combined with the heart-on-their-record-sleeve politics, this album is one that requires far more championing than its got.

Odyshape

A Dead Post

A Dead Link

Forgetting Something?

Sorry

Self-Destruct

Wounded By Bomb Splintaarss!



It's about as hard to picture the aftermath of nuclear fall-out and the subsequent rise of violent anarcho-punk packs to the primary form of human governance had Discharge not existed, as it is to picture the character of punk, hardcore, cross-over, grind, power-violence and crust today had Discharge not existed.

WHY?

Rocktober: A half-assed in-depth retrospective

Alright so I'm showing up to this concept/theme a couple days late and a couple dollars short but give it a chance anyways. I think if I give monthly themes to my posts it will give me a need to post things, whether or not I have anything remotely interesting to say about them.
This month it's Rocktober: a retrospective of great rock albums that turned/are turning 30 this year. In middle-class north american culture we consider 30 some kind of trial, turning point or questioning of perserverance in the face of age; ridiculous right? For people yes, but perhaps for albums there is some truth to be told by their reaction to such an age. For example:

X's sophomore effort saw them elude the stigma of 'being a punk band' enough for pure pop/rock fans to appreciate them for the powerful songwriting force they were, without losing any of punk's edge. Whether this was thanks to improved production values on the part of Doors keybordist Ray Manzarek and a bigger budget or the band honing and owning their craft to a new level than on Los Angeles is hard to say. However, the presentation of these micro-anthemic homages to east coast punk lifestyle are flawless at  depicting the grunge inherent to them equally alongside the introspection, sarcasm and second-guessing that makes up Doe & Exene's narratives. The maturity and perspective these poets of punk bring to the table on this record are no less astounding today in their simultaneous accuracy, acutness and unflinching conviction.

I'm coming over

Electrocuteness

WE ARE ELECTROCUTION 
This is essential, no two ways about it. None more snotty, obnoxious, sloppy or flamboyant, Le Shok held for a hot minute the highly coveted 'most-hated-band-in-Cali' throne. Driven by an affinity for pills not prescribed to them and a relentless vehemence towards their audiences, Le Shok managed to summon the kind of rambunctiously violent angst not present in punk since The Screamers or Land Speed Record. This record sits very happily in between garage and synth-punk making it a prized possession in mine and anyone's vinyl collection. The sheer originality this music presents is a great testament to the band's message of 'be different and be loud, no matter how many people will beat you up.' This album stands as their definitive statement, one no one has dared try and imitate, not even Le Shok. I know you're fucking ready...

Do The Dramatic