Procedures For Parenthood

Plundering a record collection isn't easy. There's no other way but to get in there and ruthlessly rip the thing apart. Expect to get your hands dirty. Know that the good stuff will hide among the brambles of the bad stuff and that the bad stuff will act as a buffer to distract and tire you.

The first few times you'll probably botch the whole operation and walk away disgusted for having even tried. Don't lose heart. A good record collection is much like a happy family; throw in an adopted child or a financial dispute and the stress will make itself readily known. Learn to exploit these weaknesses to your advantage. Know that a child from a broken home is always on the lookout for a loving surrogate.

Once you've extracted the wheat from the chaff, allow the displaced records time to adapt to their new surroundings. Introduce them into your own collection gently and in a non-threatening way. Ensure they're relaxed and comfortable but take care not to fuss or baby them. Playing your new records regularly -but not exclusively- will facilitate this process. It is worth noting that threatening or abusive behavior is counteractive and likely to do more harm than good. Remember, it has been a traumatic time for everyone involved. With a little patience and care your new family will grow to be a happy and prosperous one. Good luck!

-In loving memory of Bruce Milne's record collection.

Give Me Back My Name

This past weekend I went to a house party and took a few cheap shots from people (idiots) who have a problem with me changing the name of this blog. As if they even read it on a regular basis! They were acting like they’d taken out subscriptions on it or something. So here it is: I’m the editor of this here portal so I make the editorial decisions and if that means changing the name from The Human Being Lawnmower to The Curious Sphincter to Plus Size Model to Move Over Bitches, then so be it.

Now for a trip down memory lane…

When I was eight I used to go over to my friends house, eat yoghurt and make extravagant Hot Wheels racing tracks off the top bunk. Matthew’s parents were real loose; they played strange music at a volume my parents would never tolerate. One record that always seemed to be blaring was Talking Heads’ Little Creatures. They would play it so loud I could hear it in the back yard. Compared to what my parents played it was weird and scary and exhilarating.

Whenever I hear David Byrnes’ ‘hey!’ start off And She Was I’m immediately taken back to that yellow house overlooking the park. I grew to love that album; I still pull it out occasionally and am surprised how fun and larger than life it is. Compared to their earlier stuff it’s a world away - they’d left the art gallery and found themselves in a travelling carnival. It’s perfect birthday party music for eight year olds.

There’s a quirky song on side one called Give Me Back My Name and since this post is about names and all, that’s what jumped into my head and that’s why I just wrote all this junk that you just read. Sucker.

Soft Bomb: A Background Affair

I’m sitting in my underwear listening to Soft Bomb by the Chills. Comparing it to its brilliant predecessor Submarine Bells is a mistake, but I always do. Soft Bomb isn’t as good. It’s like the younger sibling with the black eye.

What’s so wrong with it? For a start it’s about five songs too long. It’s a little too glossy on the production, especially the drums (esp. the cymbals); the strong songs suffer from muddled and indulgent weaker ones. I suppose a lot of people think all of Martin Phillip’s work is indulgence, but that’s just not true.

Others made the same mistake
Men like Wilson, Barrett, Walker, Drake
On the journey they were forced to make.

- Song For Randy Newman etc.

The notion of being an artist weighs like a fog on Soft Bomb. By ’92 Phillips was cornered by corporate wolves: too much cocaine, yes men and the burden of ‘cracking’ the US market took their toll. When the crack came, it was in his head and I’m not sure he’s ever recovered his creative self. The principle culprit to the Chills commercial failure was timing– releasing their best work when no one was listening and offering nothing when people were. Well, the masses are asses.

With all that negative conjecture in mind, I still listen to this album a lot. In a weird way I like flawed albums more than so-called ‘masterpieces’. Phillips has a wonderful way with atmosphere and in my book (which is fucking massive) he’s one of the finest lyricists NZ has produced.

Zoo Music Girl

Here's a rather crappy eye-phone pic of Kids of Zoo at Penny Black last night.

This afternoon I found myself half way between the Naked And the Dead, a latte and an Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome test. Results: pending. Afterward I couldn't help popping into one of those interstellar newsstand bar places to verify my suspicion of waking naked in an incubator filled with Orb Spiders. Results: inconclusive.

The UV Race. Malaria / MASH / Good Money ...

Of all the bands doing the rounds in Melbourne right now, the UV Race are my favourites. For my taste, they have a perfect blend of honesty, (in)ability and attitude; they’ve even got their own fan club, blog and age-of-Aquarius philosophy. Lesser bands are jealous as hell, and why not? 

 The UV race remind me a bit of Cleveland's trash-can band the Electric Eels, only they aren’t obnoxious or delinquent or even that fucked up. It’s a paternal history that really shines through on their two 45's. 

With all that in mind, it's cool to see a label like San Fran’s S.S records releasing their 2^nd single. Great mosquito blow-job cover eh? Malaria has singer Marcus buzzing like a mosquito while Al buzzes back with guitar. That’s it – that’s all you need. An ode to the TV show MASH, titled MASH, is pick of the bunch here and a live favourite while Good Money is pretty much a lyrical companion piece to Eddy Currents’ Insufficient Funds. 

 If you haven't heard this, skip it and go straight to UV's s/t debut album. It's a forward step to an even more unique sound, especially on the two quieter tunes, Stare Into The Whole and Driving In Our Car. I get the feeling it'll become a underground classic in a few decades or so, which sounds like a ridiculous thing to suggest, but listen...

Gil Scott-Heron. I'm New Here

Poet, musician, author, down-trodden activist of Afro-American rights, Mr Gil Scott Heron releases his first album in 13 years, titled I'm New Here, next week. Below is pretty much the whole album for free preview. I haven't heard it all but I'm loving what I've got through so far. If you dig the man's classic stuff, this'll convince you he's still a viable artist.  I rue the day way back in 1997 that I passed up a chance to see the man in a small club in Camden town. Check it out while it's still up...

Sonny and the Sunsets. Strange Love / Death Cream 45

Pat at Sunshine and Grease switched me onto these guys and I can honestly say my life is better for it. When I first got it I put it on every morning before I went to work. It makes me feel good like pop music is supposed to. This debut 45 is completely brilliant and makes a strong challenge on Thee Oh Sees’ Tidal Wave for 45 of 2009. What can I say about this? Strange Love is heartfelt pop with doo-wop harmony, lovely old piano and handclaps. J. Richman is an influence here, but Sonny’s (twisted) lyrical honesty and vocal also remind me of the TV Personalities’ Dan Treacy. Y’know, the fuck-up outsider who never gets the girl…The flip Death Cream reminds me of the film Bigger Than Life where the teacher becomes addicted to cortisone cream and quickly loses his mind. Sonny’s version has a guy spreading a tube of 'death cream' on unsuspecting people around town like a diseased anti-hero. This 45 came with a cool illustrated fanzine-style booklet detailing Sonny’s struggles with vice and life - the man has seen some darkness.

Two Of The Best

That's Chris Knox belting out a tune with his band The Nothing at yesterday's Auckland Laneway fest. Considering he had a serious stroke just over six months ago, it's a pretty amazing sight to behold. For a man widely acknowledged to have a shocking sense of dress he actually looks the coolest I've ever seen him. 

'Everybody knows

that you got new clothes 

but aren't they the same old trash 

you used to wear'

-Toy Love, Swimming Pool

I've been listening to Chris's early band Toy Love today and I can't say enough good things about them. Check out the site for Stroke, a double album of Chris's songs sung, played and loved by some of the best in the indie world. 

Daniel Johnston at AK laneway. It makes me really happy to see these pictures (which I stole from the NZ Herald).

Lane-way AK

I've spent a cigarette-less day listening to 95bfm's live simulcast of the Auckland Laneway festival. It's kinda refreshing listening  to a festival instead of actually having to be there: the dickheads, scenesters, annoying groups of girls, shirtless dickheads, dumb security, dickheads. It's a drag just thinking about it. NZ'ers get rather excited about festivals. 

Highlight was Daniel Johnston being 'interviewed' by Matt Crawley. I used to go to high school with Matt. DJ sounded like an excited little boy. The reformed 3D's doing Hey Seuss and Beautiful Things was cool, singer David Mitchell is a cracked artist from the deep south. They're playing live as I write this and  sound like they never went away. The low-light was those terrible faux brit-indie wannabes Cut Off Your Hands; I'd gladly suffer three bad NZ dub bands over those poseurs. So there.