"Actually, we ended up doing different kinds of costumes from the stuff we dug out from the trash cans. We found two large elementary school clocks and we made boxes for them. And you can actually move the pointers from inside the box! My box has a picture of a toothbrushing parrot and Tero has a lake theme. We'll stay inside the boxes for 15 minutes and play 3 parallel recordings of a waterfall at huge volume and then come out of the boxes dressed in sleeping bags and making stupid noises to microphones. And when we get out from the sleeping bags we have funny costumes. Will be a dark and sweaty gig."
Familiar sounds for anyone interested in Finnish freakouts. This here's an LP reissue of a long-oop cassette. The sound is relentless. Fuzzed out and bangin the whole way through. This one's for Fraham.
I have trouble accepting the changing of seasons. I don't want to admit that this may be out of some stubborn refusal to accept change, it must be something else. I'd rather blame it on the fact that I spend a great deal of time in windowless rooms and have all but completely lost any concept of time. Last week before going out to party I asked if it was cold out. Auchie said "It's January in Michigan. What do you think?" Check mate. Even so, it didn't dawn on me that winter is here and the effects it's having on my brain and body are staring me right in face. Everybody seems weirder than usual. Thinking twice before I say something, thinking a million time about everything I've said. These aren't things I do when it's not winter.
The Ghetto Brothers were a Puerto Rican gang active in Bronx the 60's and 70's. However, as far as I can tell the Brothers were pretty much your stereotypical "good guy" gang. All the literature I can find about them talks about keeping drug dealers, pimps and prostitutes out of their neighborhoods, NOT seeking revenge for the killing of their buddies, staging parties and jam-sessions, and being super righteous dudes. They had a band too, and that band played the most good-vibe sun-drenched latin-funk party music I've ever heard. In an interview a former member and organizer the dude says
We used to go to Crotona Pool. And you have the 8 ft. section so we would go there periodically to see who was the victim. A gang would kill somebody and throw them in the pool. Everybody would be like, 'Ooooooh! I wonder who's that?'
Here I am sulking about the chilly weather while these dudes were living stone-cold real-talk lives while managing to pump out the sunniest jams of all. Seriously, "You Say You Are My Friend" is giving me the fuzzies all over. Plus, as things get more latin the knob labeled "ALL THE REVERB" gets cranked up. I'm going to pretend it's summer and go drink thirty stone on the roof with this just FUCKING BLASTING
According to the back of the sleeve these Boche teenage garage-rockers won some radio station battle of the bands in 1966 (the year of our lord) and got to record two cuts at the Saarlaendischer Rundfunk station. I'm telling you, these cabbage loving hep-katze's bring the groovin' beats, loosey goosey harmonies, chewed up and spit out guitar tone, and that nice rotary club atmosphere only 16-year-olds with matching uniforms can provide. And you gotta love the groovy kraut mama with wicked midriff.
