for your * pleasure – what is the opposite of psychedelic rock

By Kervin | March 16, 2010 | No Comments

good evening, ladies and germs. please refrain from throwing your rotten fruits and vegetables of ignoring these huge chunks of text i devote to screaming about things i like for a second, that is, please just refrain from the internet standby of tee ell semi-colon dee arr, because i’d like to introduce to you FOR YOUR INTIMIDATION AND POSSIBLE SPOOK-OUT, another round of sharing the creepy music i devote chunks of my life to sitting down and listening to. it’s important.

i have a lot of paranoias. conspiracy theories, being buried alive, tapeworms, foot fungus, alien abduction, abduction proper, large spaces, small spaces, no people, too many people, forced intrusion, (remember that creepy fucker from m. night shyamalan’s sleeper-hit [read: piece of shit] unbreakable? “can i come in?” haunts me to this day.) undercooked seafood, goats’ eyes, cats sleeping on my face,

and BEING ON A BOAT SINKING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING OCEAN TEN-THOUSAND MILES AWAY FROM ANY SORT OF PLAUSIBLE RESCUE OR OTHER METHODS OF SUPPORT OR SUSTENANCE. HOLY SHIT. DEAR FUCKING GOD IT’S THE WORST THING TO THINK ABOUT EVER.

Teeth of the Sea - Only Fools On Horse Teeth of the Sea - Latin Inches

that’s all there is to TEETH OF THE SEA’s album ORPHANED BY THE OCEAN. look at that album art. listen to those first two tracks. sinking with your tiny crew in the vast, ice-cold north-atlantic reaches of depths, surrounded only by a bunch of shit that people probably don’t even need, at fucking DUSK. flare guns hold standard-size shotgun ammunition for a reason.

ask and ye shall receive – polarity switch

By Kervin | March 15, 2010 | No Comments

first, i will turn you into money, then i will put you in my wallet.

i put my wallet in my pocket and sit on it.

when i need some more money, i will buy it with you–

change you in for the one-hundred pennies you are worth–

soggy, used, discarded you.

and when we’re done with you, we’ll put you in our pockets,

snap the tops, steal all your light:

spread four ways; corners of the earth.

your north is south, we hold your compass for you.

little babe, magnetized no more.

———-

hello, wide world of internet. kervin here, reporting from a leather sofa sitting in the recessed den of  a lovely townhome in tempe, arizona, and i’ve decided to do a convoluted-message advice column laced with hints of grandiose idea, nay, Idea, while i precariously sit across the room from an edward cut-out. his right eye is terribly photoshopped because the photographer was evidently incapable of using dramatic lighting efficiently. the creator, he is a blundering man.

so what is there to say about a person on vacation, what sorts of advice should he give, and what sort should he take? it is hypocritical to suggest relaxation routines, or perhaps just cruel, since this is all he is capable of. as the moment goes, he is not at work, nor at school, but not far enough out of these routines to forget all about them, so he piddles with the minds of those around him to see the gears grind; to see the wrench bend as he threw it in. silly, mischievous little man. occupy yourself with something self-engaging.

or burn it all down. we’ll be long gone before they figure it out.

Oh Nikola, You Silly-Billy.

By David | March 13, 2010 | No Comments

Saturday Cool

By Anna | March 13, 2010 | No Comments

Sherin Guirguis’s studio visit on Beautiful Decay is really something. I’ve done papercut, but only once at that scale. Brain explosion.

there and back again

By Kervin | March 12, 2010 | No Comments

no album reviews, suggested viewing, rampant poetry or silly diatribes out of me for a while, no– i will be too busy living the adventures what will become the sprawling, semi-conscious-stream-of-consciousness literary bar-setter and otherwise masterpiece known as my memoirs. there will be no computers, only pocket-sized notebooks; no healthy decisions, only beer and pizza; no art, only life; no times but as they occur and for what they are. and i’ll have you know that by the time i decide to pack my things, the laptop’s the first one in.

i’ll see you when i get there, internet

for your * pleasure – i’m serious, introduce me

By Kervin | March 11, 2010 | No Comments

what up, peeps. i am overworked and underslept, which always makes for interesting revelations when i go back and re-read what i’ve typed a few days after the fact. so let’s all venture down the rabbit-hole to see how my slinky psychology and flimsy philosophies manifest destiny the shit out of this infinite canvas, shall we? speaking of how people see the world, and to tie this segment of FOR MY OWN DAMN PLEASURE, MAYBE YOURS TOO IF IT TURNS OUT YOU LIKE IT; THAT WOULD BE GOOD, I WOULD LIKE IT IF I SHARED SOME THINGS IN COMMON WITH MY READERS into the others, i hereby must present another group/dj who exists in a dark catacomb in the back, water-stained hallway of a literally-underground goth club, he who goes by the title AMON TOBIN.

i would like to believe that my good friend amon (we’ve shared a few candle-light cannibal dinners together) sees his world through a chipped, not necessarily cracked, diffusion filter precariously rigged with masking tape to a holga packed with a film far too low a speed to properly expose all the composed elements in the viewfinder. that’s to say, dark, gloomy, fuzzy, noisy, and so on. or at least, that’s what his music would like to convey.

supermodified, which came out ten years ago, is not a well-guarded secret, which is great. spooky music of this caliber shouldn’t dwell in the shadows, no, it should be the shadows. and though you are at first given a strict dance sensibility, respected light-side dj, pulsing light and friendly-enough club vibe as the album starts, that’s definitely as light as it will get– the longer you listen, the further you are pulled into a dark hole, maybe a k-hole, with all sorts of twisting abstract smoke shapes in your peripherals. around all the sworled concoctions of unrecognizable, spooky samples, there’s a sort of lofty headiness that i decipher as both decidedly uplifting and maniacally crushing– so it’s definitely a good-headphones sort of album, certainly one you should find in FLAC lossless or LAME mp3 with a 192kbps encoding minimum. here, let’s take a taste:

Amon Tobin - Deo

now i’ve definitely heard amon tobin described as cut’n'paste jazz, which i think is appropriate, but not necessarily all-encompassing. that’s like calling ska “jazz punk.” there are horns, there’s some fretless bass, but i’ll be damned if i’d show this to my pops with the jazz angle. a better slew of arbitrary nomenclature would be NEO-GOTH-REVIVALIST-INDUSTRIAL-MUSH-POP, since i would expect the asymmetrical-blue-haircut, jhonen vasquez, knows-all-shades-of-black, thick-eyeliner crowd to willingly and peacefully listen to this album while they tag dark alleys at three-am tripping balls all the while. if you know any ladies whom fit this bill, please introduce me. or even better, LYNCHIAN-GROTESK, since this album plays like a david lynch movie does– nothing makes any sense, then it’s over and you’re sitting in the dark and scared shitless and you have to call your film-savvy friend david maron to help you decipher the various visual and auditory clues so you can go to sleep without having to worry about what the fuck do those mice even mean, their dialogue is so sporadic and nonsensical and backed by a super-sterile laugh track, is it a commentary on sitcoms or nuclear families or some twisted perspective of the human condition, i just don’t get it.

know what– i like this album so much i’m going to give y’all another track to sit on.

Amon Tobin - Marine Machines

this is pretty rad

By Kervin | March 10, 2010 | 1 Comment

Strata #1 from Quayola on Vimeo.

site-specific animation. not sure if the music was composed for the piece. i found it on a website all in russian, so that aspect was beyond me. words fail to describe– just watch it

keep looking »

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