Woohoo! We were not actually kidding last week when we sort of implied that this might be a regular thing, where we go through our purses/desks/shorts pockets on Friday night and find you cool treasures, then ask you a dumb question so you can WIN THE PRIZE!!! Dedicated to you Line Outers who work late at a desk on Friday nights, or who read the blog on the weekend. Go you!
Also, a bit of Housekeeping: Hey there, last week's winner, carnivorous chicken, wanna contact us to pick up your stuff? Just like Santa, we love giving you free stuff, if you sit on our laps and stay on your very best behavior! Those fries aren't gonna eat themselves!
This week's prize package only contains two items, but one of them is HOT HOT HOT enough to put behind a jump, because BOOBZ. You're welcome! The prize package contains:
ONE (1) pack of glue-on fake nails, French Manicure-style. Oooh, classy! Says music editor Emily Nokes, "Those nails have touched Gary Smith's torso." It's true!
and ONE (1) very special, Spanish-language, lesbian edition card game called, appropriately, "¡SEXO!"
Redeem your prize by leaving the answer to this question, which honors our spirit animal Alanis Morissette, in comments (we'll alert the winner here in comments on Monday, when we sober up again):
What fellow '90s icons played guitar and bass on Alanis Morissette's best-karaoke-song-ever hit "You Oughta Know"?
PRIZE PACKAGE PIC...
The hardcore vinyl-junkie DJs of DUG are teaming with Emerald City Soul Club's MP3 fanatics (kidding!) during its Rare Soul Weekender to put on a massive record show known as the Big Dig at Vermillion Art Gallery and Bar, Sat. Nov. 10. They're anticipating more than 20 dealers from across the world, who will be selling wax from 3 pm-8 pm (early entry at 1 pm costs $10; regular admission is $3). Bonus: You can drink, snack, and listen to excellent DJs while you scour the bins.
Now please view the R. Stevie Moore video that, by law, must accompany every post I make about record shows.
This is the inaugural edition of the "Fuck, It's Late, We're Bored, Everybody Left in the Office Donate One Thing to This Pile" Line Out trivia contest! This goes out to you, people who work late on Fridays (we're sorry!) and people who read Line Out on the weekend (that's dedication!).
Trivia Question: What song did Negative Approach's John Brannon sing at karaoke in New Orleans last June?
One lucky winner will receive:
Leave your answer and/or dumb jokes in the comments! Winner will be chosen at random and notified in the comments, and can pick up the prize package at our offices. IT'S FRIDAY! HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND! GOOD NIGHT!
*by "Dave Coulier"
The knowledgeable and generous Bob Husak, owner of Fremont music retailer Leary Records (and drummer for Seattle band the West), handed me an album at Sunday’s Art Ache flea market at Vermillion titled Song From the Hill by an entity known as the Wind Harp. “Take this,” he said, passing me the $18 record. “I think you’ll like it. If you do, just pay me later.” Such trust. I was touched by the gesture.
Song From the Hill’s cover features a little girl holding a flower in a desolate field next to a huge Aeolian harp. A double LP with a gatefold sleeve, Song From the Hill came out in 1972 on United Artists. On the inner sleeve, there’s some text rendered in slanted, fancy script, like you’d see in a sentimental Hallmark card: “Sometimes she sounds like a ghostly house and sometimes like a flying saucer but mostly she sounds like everything singing far, far away.”
The music itself is eerie, gently fluctuating, quasi-metallic drones caused by, yep, wind rustling the harp’s strings. The text above does not lie. This is some otherworldly, haunting stuff, of which the clip below will give you the gist (and the geist). Reader, I bought the record.
There are four sides of these subtly unsettling oscillations, issued by a major label in the United States. It cannot, by any stretch of the imagination, be filed under New Age. In fact, it foreshadows much of the "dark ambient" music that would deluge the underground in the '80s and '90s. Who thought this was a money-making idea—and why do I want to give him/her a retroactive raise? So much has changed in the music industry in the last 40 years...
If you're a fan of disco with wild rhythm from the early 1980s (and who isn't), you'd be a fool to not have a listen to Larry Dixon. Shortly after leaving the armed forces, Dixon recorded the LP I'am So In Love live at the Copherbox Club in 1980. It doesn't really sound like a live recording at all, and I can't find any proof that the Copherbox Club existed, but it has brilliant funk and boogie elements that just screams I'm coked up on the Muzic Box dance floor. There's a specific sound from that era, like Ron Hardy's "Peaches and Prunes" edit, that just sounds so haphazard and reckless and great.
Not too much seems to be known about Larry Dixon (there's a brief history lesson here). Copies of the private pressing of I'am So In Love command big bucks on the collector market. Dixon released another LP five years later called Can't Price Love, which has a more polished sound that reflected the R&B happening in 1985. It's good in it's own right, but it doesn't match the lo-fi abandon of I'am So In Love.
I was reminded of Larry Dixon by a Facebox post by Andrew Brearley, who's also known as Meaty Ogre. He posted a photo of Can't Price Love with the simple caption, "Got em both now!" I'm guilty of coveting my neighbor's records (again).
I read on Stereogum that Def Leppard's Hysteria turned 25 today. I checked. It did. It was released August 3rd, 1987. It was Def Leppards fourth album. I remembered that. I decided to have a listen. I'm now terrorizing my neighborhood with hard rock "hits" like Pour Some Sugar On Me, and Armageddon It, on full blast. Hairspray and jean cut-offs are in order. The cops will be here soon, I'm sure of it.
Listen, officers, this album and just about every other hair rocking orgiastic, misogynistic, Mutt Lange-produced, sausage party to be released in 1987 had a huge effect on me, and these old ass neighbors can go to hell if they don't like the synthesizer assisted drumming of recently mangled Rick Allen. I mean, Def Leppard had to change their whole sound from hard rocking Pyromania, to synth sounding Hysteria, and they enlisted the help of engineers to build his drum kit. Do you know how cool that is to help your drummer through that?
(Give me a late pass on this one: I just found out about Mister Mustard while at the Rendezvous last night, as his remix of "Come Together" came on the PA between sets at an electronic-music show. I was hooked from the get-go.)
Mister Mustard is a producer who loves the Beatles as much as Charles Mudede hates them. The Mustardly one fancies the Fab Four so much, he's taken it upon himself to remix several Beatles songs... for the sheer enjoyment of it. MM beefs and funks up the beats, rearranges the tracks, and mashes up myriad Lennon-McCartney tunes with the cleverness of someone who's spent unhealthy amounts of time in front of DJ software programs. Get your free download here.
Hot damn, the internet just keeps on giving, whether we deserve it or not. Another case in point: These demos cut by Wire in 1976, gathered in this 37-minute video. The 14 songs here reflect Wire's scabrous, snotty punk roots, from which they'd advance into more honed meta-punk missives on Pink Flag and into weirder avant-pop avenues on Chairs Missing and 154. Grok these British legends at their rawest below.
1. Prove Myself (0:07)
2. Mary Is A Dyke (2:27)
3. Bad Night (3:35)
4. Can't Stand It No More (4:46)
5. Love (6:38)
6. Midnight Train (8:25)
7. What Is This Feeling Called Love? (13:32)
8. TV (15:06)
9. Lost Boy (17:36)
10. Johnny Piss Off (19:38)
11. After Midnight (24:08)
12. Fade (25:59)
13. Bitch (29:18)
14. Roadrunner (32:05)
I didn't know this BBC documentary existed about HK. And it's posted, in it's entirety, on the YT. Rain, be damned.
"It was like Star Trek... with drugs. And long hair." —Lemmy Kilmister
Hello Music Fans! Hey remember about 4 months ago when Thee Oh Sees toured Australia and wrote a tour journal and there was no final installment? No? Me neither, but here is the proof it exists, rescued from the netherworld of my computer I barely know how to use. Better late than never? Or better late than ever? You decide... Read Part One Here; Read Part Two Here
We gotta get up hells of early for our flight to Perth today, and I am starting to get sick. But at least the weather is perfect for cold, humid, and sticky... and 100 degrees. Our hotel has a hot tub in it so me and Shoun relax to the max. The original drummer from the the Scientists, the Saints, the Victims and Beasts of Bourbon is playing tonight but I feel like hot garbage so, I just moan on the hotel bed and take the short walk to the club and get there five minutes before we play and as soon as we're done (after I eat some sliced fruit that must have been cut with a knife soaking in onion juice) and walk straight back to the hotel. My sweet Lord I wish this was an option every night.
The Big Dig record show happens Sat. May 19 at Vermillion Gallery and Bar. It's open to the public from 3 pm to 8 pm with a $3 entry fee (early entry from 1 pm-3 pm costs $10—and you have to contend with Mike Nipper's elbows). More than 20 dealers from Seattle, Spokane, Portland, and even Detroit will be selling LPs and 45s of many different styles, offering a plethora of gems. The Big Dig always leaves my wallet depleted and my shoulders sore. To soundtrack your digging experience, several DJs—including selectors from the Dug crew, Brian Hill, Explorateur, and yours unruly—will be spinning crucial cuts that you probably won't be able to Shazam (including the Rufus Harley jam after the cut).
Starring Oprah Winfrey ("Beestizz BOI-zzz!"), Tipper Gore ("They have a 20-foot inflatable penis"), Jello Biafra ("The lyrics flashed on the screen were obviously social satire, and I would interpret it as making fun of idiots would use crack"), Bob Guccione Jr. ("That is their ACT. It is what they SELL"), and random teenage mullet ("If Lionel Ritchie comes out with a song about necrophilia, I'm not gonna buy his record.")
This track—brought to my attention by rap blogger supreme Noz—is insane. Cut by the obscure Log Cabin Crew (Murs, Radioinactive, Eligh, Scarub, Tom Slick, and others), “The Day I Put on My Uniform” contains Salvia-saliva’d verses delivered with auctioneer-on-amphetamines rapidity over a leisurely bass line from Pharoah Sanders’ “The Creator Has a Master Plan” and piddling Jiffy Pop popcorn beats: very anticon.-ventional. The discrepancy between the rappers’ tempos and the rhythm is vast and the track shouldn’t work, but it does. I’ve listened to this six times today and am still not sick of it. Somebody do us all a solid and transcribe these mad lyrics.
Jazz-fusion heads and those curious about one of the most scorned—yet occasionally one of the most awesome—genres of music can get several lifetimes’ worth of audio at jazzfusion.tv. You can hear live recordings from the '70s and '80s by Miles Davis, John McLaughlin, Herbie Hancock, Billy Cobham, Mahavishnu Orchestra, Terje Rypdal, Don Cherry, Weather Report, Jaco Pastorius, Keith Jarrett, McCoy Tyner, Larry Coryell, and several other virtuosi players. Like you have anything better to do?
(Note: Mac users need to download Flip4Mac WMV to hear the music.)
Tip: Wall of Sound
1-2-3-4-Go! Records are taking pre-orders for Hickey's Various States of Disrepair two LP set, due out March 20th. The LPs have the original CD releases of singles and comp tracks with an additional nine songs. Also includes previously unreleased song "Lady Naugahyde" and an unheard alternate version of "The Naked Cult".
Oh man, this article on Dangerous Minds—"I Wanna Be Your Frog"... Obscure French 80's rock band is being compared to Iggy Pop and the Stooges. But are they punk, or are they metal?
Hello, fellow members of the small Cult of Toler—you know who you are and about the many faces of its figurehead: he rocked you as the singer for Bainbridge Island punk-rockers Pud. He gave you dark thrills in Cold Way Walking and as the diabolical vocal half of the hazy, gothic-country-rock band Blessed Light. (Toby Gordon, the angelic-sounding half, is still playing as/with the Blessed Light, but makes no mention of Gavin or the infamous "lost record"—a bootleg copy still exists and gets passed around by Seattle fans—on his website.)
Toler then dove into Los Angeles and "California mystic folk" with Winter Flowers. That's all I heard of Toler for a few years.
But a friend just forwarded me some new Toler recordings released online late last year—he's still singing high and delicately, as he did with Winter Flowers, but some of the dusky, dark shadings of the Blessed Light years has crept back into his voice.
You can listen here.
(And there's yet another version of "White Pilgrim," the gorgeously melancholy song about addiction and madness that Toler has been playing and recording with his different outfits over the years.)
Sorry some of them are hard to make out. They took away my computer with Photoshop on it and replaced it with a word processor when they moved me from the web department to the editorial department (aka, The Room Where Computers Go to Die). I found them in an old box. The rubber band holding them all together just crumbled when I pulled on it.
The ones that are really hard to see are NOFX and Rockstock '94. All I remember about the latter was that we snuck into the hotel lobby bar, and because I didn't know what to order, I ordered what the older hot girl we were with ordered: a Midori Sour. That and the I think the Beastie Boys and Tool played. The one from Western was to see Good Riddance. We left before Less Than Jake even got on the stage. There you go, a bunch of my musical skeletons in the closet. Have at 'em.
If you can guess the show stub I left off because it wouldn't fit on the scanner bed, you win the next shopping cart I spot on Green Lake Watch and a paperclip!
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