My eventual development involved stopping being obsessed by the flowing skirts of half of The Manhattan Transfer (ra da da da da) and Debbie Harry's nipples and into even deeper levels of transgression. At the time that these were individually released I was too young and knew nobody that had a clue that this stuff even existed. Eventually, I was able to go backwards to move forward. Nazi themes, the serial killer as hero and particularly the Sotos contributions to this part of the subunderground leave me very cold indeed.
The influence of Steven Stapleton, Maurizio Bianchi and Jim Thirwell on here sings out, but the quality of the actual music when they get down to it is pretty inspirational considering when it was recorded. This is an astonishingly great re-representation that lets me hear things in this work that I had not grasped before. It's a ten LP and one ten inch single and it could only be courtesy of Vinyl-on demand. This particular release is a verifiable work of art. I try not to think about never being in a position to buy it ... it makes me sad.
Anyway. I've had a good day at work. The cats have all had their christmas day tuna. I'm listening to Pharoah Sanders, drinking fine Belgian beer and cooking what promises to be a very impressive curry. Even though it turns to shit around us, life is still very excellent and so much better than the alternative.
part one
part two
part three
... and the mega option:
uno
dos
tres
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