How many albums have these guys released with this same cover? It doesn’t matter, buy them all. Nobody who has ever heard this “album” has not enjoyed it.
The essential base concept behind dub music, beyond the joys of vandalism, and the deep engineering love of pure sound, is one of time dilation. Extention and perversion of time to such an extent that the true, fraudulent nature of linear perception becomes illuminated and undeniable. It is psychedelic at its core.
If the sky or the ocean had a beat, it could be this record. You won’t remember listening to it, and you can turn it over happily 1,000 times. The road goes on forever.
Support unicode. UTX+8, WTF WordPress, OK. блять. L’enfer, c’est les autres.
Have you heard Moth Cock?
Even after their 12 album run for Nonesuch? Even after their performance in Berlin with Xenakis? Not even when they went to that Hermann Nitsch thing with Penderecki and ate all that human flesh?
You still ain’t heard ’em?
As I recall, I purchased this 136 year long memory implant from a fortune teller on the side of the highway in Burlap County, Arlouisy. T’wasn’t much cost, see, the problem was as I tried t’pay him I sorta sauntered off inta th’ cupboard…
Forget I mentioned that. Don’t be going in that cupboard, kid. Ya heard Moth Cock?
Oh, they’ve heard about you. In fact, just by reading this article they’ve already harvested your soul. Nothing you can do about it. You’re a fully dependent aspect of MothCock Industries, LLC, now, kid. Best thing you can do is just give up.
TUNE OUT TUNE OVER TUNE IN TUNE THROUGH TUNE BEYOND
I was trained as a drummer. I prefer to play guitar, or keyboard, or bass. I like the bass. Anyway, I know a lot of drummers. Good ones! Professional, working cats! I love these guys, but look, just between you and me, I have to admit that sometimes I find their styles kind of… limited. They get on the drums and a rat-a-tat-tat it’s a beat, I’m groovin’, whatever, but you know, the feel is just limited somehow. I like the drums. I dig Elvin Jones, Art Blakey, Animal from the Muppets, you name ’em. But let’s talk turkey, bozo, this here shit is UNLIMITED.
Think about that, man.
All the drums you ever heard- Tony Allen, Sunny Murry, Susie Ibarra, Han Bennink- they were but a fraction of the total illuminated sphere of rhythmic knowledge that encompasses the awe-inspiring concept of DRUMS UNLIMITED.
And here it is, chief. Max Roach just gave you six solid ass tracks of DRUMS M’FK’N UNLIMTED including a goddamn Christmas song AND Freddie Hubbard on trumpet. What are you gonna do now? What can the future possibly portend now that you’re aware that DRUMS- the most basic structure of all society- can be truly, unabashedly, UNLIMITED? Will you climb the mountains in search of divine wisdom? Will you descend into madness? Will you be trapped in a meaningless purgatory of wack beats and rhymes?
Friend, let the knowledge, wisdom, and power of the immaculate, undeniable truth that can only be described as DRUMS UNLIMITED guide you, and you will be made one with this universe as few aside from Brother Roach ever shall be.
This one plays a lot better than the other one. I assume that means it wasn’t as popular. Another exotica record. You have to be on drugs to like this shit. I’m high as hell right now. I’ve never listened to this before. Seems like nobody has, based on the way the record plays. “WHILE THEY LAST” RECORD SALE 58 cents” Fuck you I’m not even trying to look for how to do the unicode for the USA cents symbol.
Did you ever see any David Lynch or John Waters films? Many of these records would sound perfect in a scene from one of their movies. I’m going to turn this off now before I try to kill and eat a possum.
My old pal Ralf told me about this one. Haven’t listened to it in a while. This particular copy doesn’t play so great. Could probably use a cleaner version. Anyway, this is exotica, very much like Yma Sumac, though I’d dare say Ms. Valente has the better range and approach. At least, she doesn’t come off as much as an obvious plant. Definitely for fans of Esquivel and Martin Denny. Cover art is brilliant too. Beyond that, I don’t know, what do you want? Give me $4 for it.
No further proof is needed that our society is corrupt and unjust than the circumstances surrounding the career of Mr. Richard Thompson. In an honorable world, he would be considered amongst Dylan, Segovia, Bach. In this rubbish-strewn, inhospitable, nightmare we find ourselves trapped in, his name is barely a whisper on the consciousness of certain dissident librarians. Why has he been ignored? Was it because his music is almost unfathomably bleak and heavy at times? Was it because he and his wife were Muslims who lived in a commune and ate only porridge and dirt? Why do I think it’s cause they were Muslims? I’m sure it’s only a red herring. I mean, it’s not like he was murdered like Cornelius Cardew. So, I guess Richard Thompson is probably slightly better well-known than say, Henry Cow, so maybe he’s famous? He should be richer, is my point. He should have yachts, or a non-profit, or whatever a dude like him does, besides rock.
What was up with 1970s British folk-rock dudes giving equal billing to their wives? Was that McCartney’s fault? Was this some pop-cultural hand gesture towards feminism? It’s cause of hippies, right? Anyway, the records Richard Thompson made with his then-wife Linda are the best ones he’s ever made, and he’s made approximately 65 bixtwillion albums, and he plays on eleventyseptwomplillion other records. And lots of those are really great as well. But the ones with Linda are magical… They were young, in love, and revolutionary.
Man, dude, bro, dog. I can’t even get to how or why somebody writes the song “The Calvary Cross.” I’m gonna go crank that up real loud and say some prayers.
Well, will you look at that. This here is the 100th post on Memphis Drive-In. Only took 8 years. What can I say, folks, writing of this caliber takes time to craft. Seems like as good a time as any to mention that this blog gets its name from a now-defunct drive-in movie theater that hosted weekend flea markets. As a youf I used to grip all kindza records, comics, and junk from there. Sadly the wheels of progress have turned it into a business park of some kind. Modern life truly is rubbish.
Anyway, this here Junior Kelly record is a total banger on the Sleng Teng rhythm (riddim? I feel way too white to write that), as popularized by Wayne Smith. Mr. Kelly displays quite the vocal range here as he extols the virtues of your body’s design. This is some high-energy stuff and is really a must-have for Sleng Teng enthusiasts. I have a bunch more tunes on this beat I’ll dig up and throw on the blerg one of these days.
For now, let’s all just bask in the joy that is the 100th post.
This record was released in 1990 and, although it doesn’t say so, appears to be a compilation of outtakes and unreleased stuff by various lineups of the band up to this point. It’s really damn good. Probably one of my favorite records by these guys. Balances their crazy, experimental, atonal, noisy, side with their sweet and melodic side nicely. Hear new favorites like “Elevator Boy,” “Our Eyes,” and “How Did You Know?”
Damn dog, I’ve owned this record close to thirty years.
I can’t remember exactly how I heard about these guys, but I know it was before their great song “The Last Hangman,” was featured on Peaky Blinders, so I guess my hipster qualifications are still legit.
I can attest, however ridiculous this may seem, that I left work early 1/24/18 claiming a close friend had died when I heard the news of Mark E. Smith’s death.
In the aftermath of that immense loss to British post-punk, I decided to try and seek out as much new, weird, British music as I could as a surrogate to that loss.
I could go on and on about all these great new British (and Irish!) bands I’ve discovered in the wake of my MES loss (and maybe I will!)… But suffice to say you can’t replace MES. Nor should you try.
These guys have a Doors/Birthday Party kinda vibe about them. Their singer has a low baritone delivery and the band plays this spy music that is both reminiscent of bands from the early ’80s and the ’60s. Some of their lyrics are better than others. To be honest, these aren’t my favorite songs by them, their EP “Barstool Preaching” is better, but this slab is still totally rocking. Better than most things I’ve heard lately, including by the other London flavors du jour.
These cats appear to be quite young and I hope they have the tenacity to survive the weird British music scene, or else all go their separate ways and find happiness somehow. The music industry is garbage and it seems exceptionally so in whatever constitutes the UK these days. I like these guys ’cause they just seem like intelligent, working-class, youths trying to do their thing without the irritating spotlight so many English groups seem intent on prostrating themselves before.
Memphis Drive-In 