Omebi Velouria makes music with its own built-in history. It is the history of man. The history of modern technology. Far from sounding dated, the music she creates combines a passion for the past with a tilted vision of what the modernism promises to deliver. As one half of Austin based future primitives Os Ovni, she already has quite a body of work. Her new untitled solo LP for Phantasma Disques showcases the fact that she is far from just a feminine sidekick in the new electroclash. She is a woman of synth and substance.
As a Daughter of Derbyshire (Electronic composer Delia, for those unawares) the music Omebi makes is art brut concrete. Electronic freakbeat in the vein of her hero[ine]s White Noise and San Francisco street perfromer Space Lady. The fact that Phantasma’s elusive Cosmotropia de Xam gave her complete freedom is a testament to her talents; as de Xam is notorious for bending contributing artists wills and forcing them into a mold he created with the early releases of Mater Suspiria Vision and Pwin Tweaks. There is no ghost drone here though… and definitely none of that dirty witchy word house. Instead, listeners are treated to pure analog programming, somewhere between the genius of early Moog experimentation and the cohesive composition of Broadcast. It is easy to lose oneself in the Dreamscape, with its slow hum and minimal vintage drum programs. This is archaeological music of the future and although it is rooted in music composed more than 30 years ago, it seems as futuristic as Woody Allen’s Sleeper, in the same grainy 70’s celluloid style.
A San Francisco transplanted in the hipster heart of the TX, Omebi strays from cool factor with a feather boa and tons of sequins and glitter. Just like the Outsider Art on the cover of her new CD, she lacks the pretension that is often associated with the new breed of underground electronics. This is purely modular, in a way that only the nerdiest students of library music can understand. Even a well placed cover of David Lynch’s ubiquitous “Lady in the Radiator” song, which has been covered by the likes of Bauhaus and the Pixies, can’t disguise the fact that Omebi is incapable of making music for anyone but herself. And that is just the way that it’s supposed to be.
Just as watching somebody release digested matter through their exit, or anus, is an unpleasant and private affair, people cramming food into their entrance, or mouth, can be an equally nauseating sight. At least the butt, in most cases, is an orifice tight enough that one can’t see the bits and pieces of feces being jumbled and tossed around within.With the yap trap, everything becomes way more visible, something we saw everyday but never realized how revolting it can be until an artist presented the munchers with an up close and personal look at our own hunger-curbing ways.
As Cherry Archer’s photographs for her project Consumption Society show, your piehole is a sump of moisture and bacteria ready to be stuffed with consumables. The pictures have managed to turn an average snack-time into an exposé on the grossness of human eating (not eating humans). The close-up photos of tongue movements, lip smacking, and sauce dripping have given me a different perspective on the process. I knew licking and chomping wasn’t the most glamorous thing but goddamn am I disgusted.
Adding to the foulness of the snapshots, I believe the photographer used some lighting or camera filter that emphasizes the oils and imperfections on the forehead, cheeks, and around the lips, turning the face into a greasy canvas. Maybe Bloomberg will see these and outlaw eating in public or chewing with your mouth open. The full collection can be gawked at after the jump.
Every two years Canadian duo Handsome Furs release an album, and each time it’s worth the wait. Pent up energy explodes in a volcanic display of aggressive keyboard led melodies, joined by vocalist Dan Boeckner’s gravely roar on the band’s third album, Sound Kapital. Inspired by Eastern European industrial and electronic music, the album’s nine tracks trigger themes of claustrophobic repression, and the feeling of freedom that comes when you finally let it all blow.
On “Bury Me Standing” Boeckner repeats the track title’s words over and over, growing more agitated with every iteration. It’s synth-pop filled with tension, a quick-paced anthem for raising your fist in the air, and demanding your voice be heard. This sense of urgency defines Sound Kapital. “Damage” teeters on the edge, one foot suspended and ready to jump. Chaotic whipping synths leave another layer of scars on already damaged flesh. Radio samples from a Hong Kong hostage broadcast are scattered throughout the noise, building momentum towards what feels like the final standoff of a long chase scene. Desperation weighs heavy in the trudging keyboard notes of “What About Us”. Words of heartbreak flow from Boeckner’s lips, the melody growing gradually slower as he folds into the meaning of his heavy lyrics.
Sound Kapital suffers somewhat under its own weight. The often depressing lyrics and aggravated instrumentation paint a front page news story of a life where everything is hard, and freedom comes with consequences. It leaves you feeling appreciative of the little things. And again, the Handsome Furs pull off energy with ease.
We’re altering the Digging for Fire format starting with this entry. Instead of solely focusing on out of print or forgotten records of the past, we want to start re-introducing and reexamining albums. Be they classics or overlooked gems, the new focus of Digging For Fire is to aquatint our readers, particularly our younger ones with albums we feel are essential listening.
Unfortunately we won’t always be posting downloads any longer as some of these releases are very much still in print. But you guys are all clever and know how to use the internet right? – My Pal the Crook
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While there were certainly more obscure records to speak of, when referring to the short list of albums I compiled to write about for my inaugural Digging For Fire post, none meant more to me personally than Alien Lanes. Often times you might stumble into a particular album at a fitting time in your life, and finding GBV early on in my college days was nothing if not apropos. It’s almost as if some undefinable strand contained within the Alien Lanes genome lends itself to slamming a Bud heavy while washing piles of crusty dishes in a dive apartment. At the expense of getting overly sentimental, it feels a little like I met Alien Lanes during my very first syllabus week, and really never looked back over the subsequent four years… well, four and a half years actually.
If you’re not in the know, GBV is/was comprised of a rotating cast of Beatles-0bsessed schlubs, jocks and high school teachers, all hailing from the bustling metropolis of Dayton Ohio. Popping up somewhere toward the middle portion of the Guided by Voices catalog, Alien Lanes was the first official record the dudes put out as members of the now-prestigious Matador Records stable and ocnsidere dtheir last album with their “classic lineup.” Front man, and group auteur, Robert Pollard, was reportedly given a five-figure sum by the NY indie label to produce the LP, but opted instead to fill the album with a collection of bizarre home-recorded ditties, done on the cheap. Whether Pollard aimed to retain the group’s signature home-grown lo-fi sound here, or simply just wanted to save cash to pay off an astronomical bar tab, is really up for debate at this point.
What’s clear, however, is that the crew (whose chief songwriters consisted of Pollard and Tobin Sprout) walked away with a record that impressively manages to sustain steam for 28 tracks, while still properly encapsulating the band’s sound. Alien Lanes could be looked at as a total mess in a lot of ways, but should also be presented the distinction of GBV’s greatest triumph. For modern-day youngsters weaned on Times New Viking and Psychedelic Horseshit, the album could come of sounding a little archaic, or even boring. I think the record manages a feat no Shit-Gaze act has yet to accomplish though, which is to say, it has kept me coming back for more and more listens over time. If nothing else, Alien Lanes is catchy as hell.
I have a friend who bought the concert film documenting what was at the time thought to be GBV’s farewell show. She claimed to be disappointed with the footage and overall quality of the thing, citing how drunk all the band members became as the show progressed. While I can understand her stance on the matter in some ways, I also think she’s missing the point here a little bit. The very fact that these middle-aged fellas are still wheeling out (literal) piss and puke buckets as stage fixtures is one of the reasons twenty-something year old dudes look to Pollard and the gang as kindred spirits. They’re still doing it man!
If this short piece reaches a single dopey high school or college meat head, who’s uneducated in the mystical ways of Bob Pollard, and views Dave Matthews as the be-all end-all, then I’ll have done my job. Give the album a spin, and you’ll be shouting about your “Valuable Hunting Knife” before you know it. Take my word on this one, I’ve already fallen into this vicious trap.
You’ve got to make sacrifices to get the things you want out of life. The exceptions to that statement are if you’re unnaturally beautiful or if you set your goals low.
For instance, in order to make a living doing creative work I had to sacrifice: watching movies and DVDs, hanging out, doing anything casually, sleep, sex with other people, doctor visits, dentist appointments, nutrition, happiness, sadness and most other emotions. I’ve gotten what I wanted but at what price? My emotional palette only contains anxiety,rage, calm and sleeping or eating. I sacrificed the person I was in order to survive.
This shirt contains a bunch of grim reapers about to sacrifice a grim reaper lady who already sacrificed most of her clothes. What are they going to gain? I’m going to guess that the thing they want the most is probably some faces. This tee was illustrated by Alexander Heir and comes in White, Black and a Pink Tie-Dye.
Мишка
350 Broadway
Brooklyn, NY
718-388-1725
— Мишка LA
1547 Echo Park Ave
Los Angeles, CA
213-536-4234
Let Мишка help you ring in the month of July! On July 1st, we’ll be putting on a show with the help of Becka Diamond, that’s going to feature the wonderful tunage of Los Angeles duo Tearist. The boy-girl pairing have been making waves up and down the west coast for a little while now, and will be dragging their scuzzed-out synth’s across the country to Brooklyn’s very own Saint Vitus Bar for all our aural pleasure. Take note of the interesting method Tearist go about providing the percussion throughout this video for “Civilization”… Probably something you’d want to check out in person
The headliner will be flanked throughout the evening’s proceedings with performances by the curiously named Brooklyn-via-France duo Frank (Just Frank), as well as the ever so enigmatic Λ (Arc). If you haven’t already caught wind of these dudes, Frank have been gaining notoriety with their modern take on 80′s new-wave jingle jangle a la REM and The Cure. Λ (Arc) recently blew us away during our recent AMDISCS In-store event and the aforementioned Becka Diamond will also be performing interstitial DJ sets as the night commences. Show up to the club at around 8:30 on the 1st of July, and be ready to get down and dirty.
Friday July 1st, 8:30pm Saint Vitus
1120 Manhattan Ave
Brooklyn, NY
$10 | 21+
Terrence Malick’s long-awaited wank-a-thon Tree of Life has been in select theaters for a few weeks now and will be getting a nationwide boost on July 8. As I’m writing this it’s 86% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes and our very own Pukelear Reactor raved about it. I saw it last Sunday and while I thought it was a stunning visual orgy, it didn’t really do much else for me. Especially Sean Penn. He’s one of my favorite dudes ever but his bits in the movie were pointless and his whole beach scene near the end is by far the cheesiest scene of 2011.
I’m not here to knock the enigmatic Malick or his new movie though. You should go see it in the theater if you have the chance. You’ll never see another film like it, that’s a Malick guarantee! But the movie got me and my girl thinking about another film. A similar yet superior film from a decade ago: Frailty. Directed by Bill Goddamn Paxton and written by Brent Hanley (who wrote the “Family” episode of Masters of Horror), Frailty is a southern-fried gothic thriller in which a fanatic father (Paxton) has visions that drive him to seek and kill “demons,” bringing his two young sons along for the ride. I admit, comparing these two films is like trying to draw concrete comparisons between The Wire and Everybody Loves Raymond, but Malick and Paxton’s tales of the south have more in common than you think. I might even smell some plagiarism…
Quotes from the Bible precede both films: TOL with one from Job and Frailty with one from the less pretentious book of Isaac. Both films take place in small towns in Texas in the past – Tree of Life in the ’50s, Frailty in 1979 (the date of Frailty is only revealed when the kids are arguing over whether to go see Meatballs or The Warriors). While the bulk of both films take place in their respective pasts, they’re both bookended with scenes of the present. This is where TOL contains its lifeless Sean Penn segments that drag the film into the mire. But Frailty‘s present timeline features a chilling Matthew McConaughey in his only watchable role. This actually isn’t fair to say since I haven’t seen The Lincoln Lawyer – he might be good in that. While Frailty‘s beginning and end actually add to the film’s story, TOL‘s made me squirm in my seat. Watching Penn loaf around the desert in a suit is not as titillating as it sounds.
Setting a movie about Texans in Texas means you’re going to need accents. In TOL, only the oldest son inexplicably has a drawl. Just ONE. Not even Brad Pitt (the father) or Jessica Chastain (the mother) have a hint of an accent. Your parents don’t have one, where’d you get that accent, kiddo? The main characters in Frailty, however, speak in perfect accents because they’re actually from Texas. BAM! Paxton, McConaughey, and Powers Boothe are all Texas-born; bringing an uncanny realism Malick can only strive for. The child actors in Frailty are not from Texas, but speak with believable accents. Briefly, while I’m on this note about the kids, there are three sons in TOL. Me and my girl only thought there were two. Apparently we missed the existence of an entire character.
Brad Pitt’s father character in TOL is a failed musician who has settled for playing the organ at his church. He’s a very religious man who demands that his kids respect him. He forces the oldest Jack to perform tedious chores like pulling weeds and watering dead parts of the lawn. He’s got a short fuse and once it’s lit, the punishments rain down. Punishments like being locked in the closet for a few minutes and opening and closing the screen door 50 times in a row (quietly).
In Frailty, Bill Paxton is also a highly religious father. But unlike Pitt, he loves his kids to death and is constantly verbalizing his affection. Pitt just lazily kisses his kids’ foreheads once in a while. Paxton loves his spawn like a boss. As far as pitching in around the house, Paxton is a little more demanding in his chores. He makes his eldest son Fenton dig a 15′ x 15′ hole in the backyard. And when Fenton rebels against his father’s righteous killing spree, Paxton locks him in the shed’s basement (the murder room) for something like three days. Paxton kills for his god – Pitt plays the organ.
Speaking of God, he’s a lot more direct in Frailty. One of his angels visits Paxton in a vision and sets him on his wrathful mission. In TOL, young and old Jack are constantly whispering to God, asking him questions about faith, life, and his whereabouts. God chooses to ignore the morose Penn while focusing all of his earthly efforts on Paxton. Murdering demons is way more important than the trite inquiries of Penn.
There’s a great scene in TOL in which Pitt is giving his kids an amateur boxing lesson. He shows them how to stick and move and then asks, pleads, for them to hit him. Boxing is cool and all, but murder is way more effective. Especially with a holy axe named OTIS. Paxton teaches his kids how to spot demons, capture, kill, and conceal. I’d take that over “hit me in the face” any day.
Fenton, the eldest son in Frailty, finds himself at odds with his father’s holy mission. His internal struggle causes rifts in the family, especially between him and his younger brother Adam. Fenton acts out against his father, which breaks his father’s heart. The eldest son in TOL, Jack, also contends with his father’s worldview and constantly seeks for answers. Fenton, however, follows his gut and puts an end to the whole “Hand of God” things. Jack just goes up to be Sean Penn.
Case closed in my opinion. Malick stole the entire idea of TOL from Frailty, then added CGI and dinosaurs to the mix. What a hack! He also took out the whole murder thing, but still…it’s a ripoff. An inferior ripoff. Nowhere in TOL‘s credits is Bill Paxton or writer Brent Hanley thanked. In a perfect world, before the biblical quote that opens TOL, the screen would read “Inspired by Frailty” or “Thanks, Bill Paxton.” But sadly, Malick is getting away with blatantly biting a better film. He may be laughing now while he prances around his secret bunker stuffed with philosophy texts, but no one can escape the wrath of OTIS for long. It’s God’s will.
Our resident Italian skinhead and Gangster Raver, Michael Cohn, also known as Badman Shark or simply Shark on the Bloglin, has boot-stomped a classic hardcore mixtape, the first in a continuing series put out by MixHell, into the back of your fucking skull. My Definition of Hard Vol. 1 is the entrance to some of the most volatile vocal eruptions to ever come out of the New York hardcore scene along with archetypal anthems from iconic punk bands such as Refused and Minor Threat.
MixHell, the electronic project of Sepultura’s former drum ace Iggor Cavalera alongside his wife Laima Layton, is more of a family of dancefloor ruffians assimilating heaviness into EDM to create a pulverizing battalion of beats. These disc jockeys are keeping the digital party jams noisy as all hell. A free download of this quintessential comp of early hardcore songs is here for the taking. Get acquainted with the way music should be…pissed off. Tracklist after the jump.
Little-known weirdo electro project, Poor Spirits, bangs out some poppy, underground get-down music.The only information I could pull on these digital duders is a short message written by the one of the two members explaining they’re a completely computerized group, no shit, and that they make music together while being physically separated, located on opposite sides of the country. Without access to an actual studio, the duo records wherever they can, in warehouses, garages and basements.
Consisting of alternating blips, bloops, and bass-heavy hums the song becomes the soundtrack to an outsider youth organization aerobics routine. Vintage clips of stretching exercises and synchronized flexibility games are projected in crackled, antiquated glory contradicted by the 8-bit futuristic dance music. The video for VVOVV is an unusual overlaying of audio and video, a short but sweet look into the discolored work-out programs of yesteryear.
The YouTube account underwhich the pair posts is seanamazing, maybe a point in the right direction to figuring out who and what these guys really are and a chance to stimulate your brain waves on their other subliminal a/v creations.
Dunkie Monkies is brainchild of high school pals James and Kyle. I asked James about the name and where it came from:
The name “Dunkie Monkies” came from the fact that me and my friend love nike dunks since ever and we have many similarities with monkeys ;wild, crazy and funny etc.
James also told me a little more about the concept about their brand, as well as the patch they are selling in our store:
With our brand we wanted to make a whole bunch of items using things that inspire us to name a few [Rat fink,Tank Girl, the Gorillaz, The Beatles, Dragonball Z and Method Man] but our main story is a made up planet called “Tical” it has a very post apocalyptic theme to it. The monkey in the patch “Ja-Ja” is the leader of a small rebellion and they’re trying to over throw the corrupt leader so they travel the planet searching for Oasis, along the way they meet up with different characters and so on. There’s more to it but i don’t want to drown you with details but the brand will just kind of tell that story with its items.
I’ve talked to this guys and they are the real deal. Kids are always coming to be asking me advice on starting a brand, and I tell them, they just need to do it, and that is what these guys did!
I mean who releases a patch as their first item in a line? Not only do I applaud their creativity, I think they have the heart, determination, and talent to make it in this biz. The patch sells for $20 and is available at our Brooklyn flagship.
