Pigface "fook"

I had a dear friend and roommate who is a very talented and idiosyncratic musician. He would pour over his four-track recorder with his guitar, keyboards and vcr. He composed hours of instrumental music and i would scribble cover art for his cassettes. To me it was like some sort of black magic, he would chain smoke and conjure these prog-rock horror themed epic songs. He worked at the mall chain-record store in town and we would search out weird and innovative music. His favorite band was Skinny Puppy and through the singer Ogre's involvement we discovered the first #pigface album. It was labeled as "industrial" but was way more organic than that genre would imply. We loved it straight away and it got loads of attention from us both. We had heard of the release of this, their sophomore release and through his channels at the record store we were able to special order it upon it's release. I swung by the shop on the day i knew the new releases would arrive. He played coy and shrugged in disappointment before wiggling the jewel case in the air. I asked if he had played it yet but he heroically waited for me. There were a few cd browsers in the store but we couldn't wait to listen to it. He popped it on and the quiet intro to "alles is mine" started its pulsing beeping and he turned up the volume so we could hear it better, assuming it was a poor mastering job. The song suddenly explodes and the volume raises to normal but the effect is a jarring surprise. There was a middle aged mustached man browsing the country section directly under a speaker and i will never forget how high he jumped when that dynamic launched out of the too loud in-store system. I can remember it vividly and it still makes a smile creep across my face. We loved thos disc straight away too. 

Shudder To Think "hit liquor"

Everytime i walk to work i wonder why i don't do it more. It was a brisk March morning, i had to walk up to my bank before going to work so it made my route a pleasant loop. I splurged a little while ago and bought myself some nice headphones and i eagerly hooked them over my head and set out. I had made it half a block before i settled on what music i wanted to listen to. With my ever expanding collection that decision seems to be getting harder every time. I wrestle with the guilt of not listening to recent acquisitions versus the comfort of some long loved album. I decided i wanted to hear #shuddertothink and specifically some of the b-sides on this single/ep. I turned the volume up to a level that blocked out the surrounding city and really listened to the music. I'm still surprised at how familiar music can sometimes sound magnanimously new and in the moment. I've listened to the song "hit liquor " many many times. I already know i love the song, but on this walk it gave me goosebumps. The band switches from muscular riffing to enveloping dissonance to sultry croon all within the confines of a single song. Each part seems necessary and narrative. I've quit trying to make sense of Craig Wedren's lyrics long ago. I've learned to appreciate the sound of the words and the sensations each word invokes rather than try to decode the sequential semantics. I carelessly air guitared and mouthed the lyrics as i walked and the stroll felt comfortable. Like a familiar room. I've trod many of the sidewalks in this city many times. Years of being car-less made it a necessity. I really never minded or dreaded a foot commute and it is because i always had headphones and music to make me unconscious of my steps. Nowadays my time seems to be alot more hectic and it demands that i reduce commutes and thus reduce the time spent with public private music. The soundtracks to the biographical movie in my head. To revisit this for a moment really did wonders for me. It lifted my spirit and i had a really good day at work. I love being reminded of the amazing mystical powers of these songs.

Naked Raygun "understand?"

There is an element of competition in all collections. I had a close friend whose voracious musical appetite rivaled my own. We bought CDs with any money we could find, we wrote for and started 'zines to get our hands on discs and 7" records. When we were invited to someones apartment we would scour their music collection to report back to each other; "dude, she had like 3 Tori Amos CDs, i knew she was messed up!" We took constant inventory of our new acquisitions and incessantly made each other mix tapes for two reasons: 1) to turn each other on to new music we had found 2) to rub each other's nose in new music we had found before the other had. It was a gentleman's conflict. It was unspoken but it was clear. We drove each other to be very experimental and open minded in music. CDs didnt count if you didn't listen to them. In a pretty short amount of time i became very versed in all kinds of music. I find it hard to believe i made time to listen to all of that stuff. I cannot keep up with my musical interests anymore. I suppose being young and broke didn't hurt. No money meant i had a lot of down time with my stereo. Anywhere i wanted to go i was walking or skateboarding, so i had time to absorb all those mix tapes on my walkman. On one of those tapes was "wonder beer" by #nakedraygun  . It's snarling and anthemic punk. I loved it and conceded victory to my friend. Soon i bought my own copy of this disc when i had the cash. The chicago band was always seemed a "mature" punk outfit to me. Sort of like a less heady Bad Religion. They weren't popular with the Warped Tour crowd and that sort of exclusionary status appealed (and still does) to me. The weird record covers never hurt either.

Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians "so you think you're in love.

I just finished reading "old records never die" by Eric Spitznagel. Simple synopsis is it's a documentation of a guy trying to track down lost albums if his youth. Not new copies but the actual vinyl artifact he once owned. It stung me with my own kind of crisis with getting older and coming to terms with years i can't relive. I pulled this cd off the shelf to inspect it from an archeological perspective. I bought this CD single from a record store in the small rural town i was attending my first year of community college in 1991. I was broke and my parents had bought me my first cd player that winter for xmas. I didn't have much money and wanted something to play on it. My buddy had promised me he would borrow his parent's car and we would make the hour drive north to Buffalo to our beloved record store Home Of The Hits. Finally having this coveted technology with nothing to play on it was making me nuts. I knew i had to save money for the real CD haul so i decided to buy a single from the local mall store. I do not remember why i chose this. Thinking back i have no recollection of knowing who #robynhitchcock  was. It is still kind of a blackout spot and i am puzzled to this day by this choice. I love this cd because for a week it's all i listened to. Three sacharrine and clever songs burned into my brain. So i pulled this first cd off the shelf this morning. I smelled it, i carefully examined the scratches in the jewel case. I even pulled the disc tray out to see if i had hidden anything underneath. I found nothing. I'm not certain that if i lost this artifact that I'd be able to identify it again. I have carried this cd around for 27 years and it has no discerning marks. That worries me now. I put one of my business cards inside the tray in case it ever strays. I feel better.

Etta James "at last"

It was my birthday a couple of days ago. I am officially closer to 50 than 40 and the result is that I've been reflecting even more than usual. This summer will mark the longest I've ever lived at one address. Previously that title was held by the house my family lived in the suburbs of Buffalo. I lived there from the summer before fourth grade til the summer after ninth. It seems even in retrospect to have lasted more than just under six years. It seemed like ages. Since that move i have lived at twenty-nine addresses. Those stints ranged from a couple of months to a couple of years. For a long while I have longed for more permanent roots. To feel a home not just a temporary apartment. I marvel that my kids will have already matched my streak. That they will feel a real connection to this house. They will feel comfort here after an absence. I get a real warm and fuzzy feeling over that. A friend of ours was our agent when we closed on this house. As a gift i gave her a copy of this cd. I discovered #ettajames  at a time when i felt lost in my late twenties. I often imagined this album pouring from the windows of some home that i had collected a bunch of books and more obviously: CDs. I gave itbto her as a token of hope that she had just helped me realise this fantasy. I think I'm going to crank this tomorrow after i get my boys on their school busses and savor the moment.