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(Projekt, 1994)
A song apiece from bloweyelashwish and the then-unreleased xuvetyn, on purple vinyl in a limited edition of, uh, 1000. The comparisons are easy here: like My Bloody Valentine and Cocteau Twins, maybe even the less aggressive moments of Flying Saucer Attack, it's all effects-heavy guitar and girl-voice rumble 'n' vroom, though largely avoiding drums and obvious/traditional song structure. Recorded on four-track, too, for maximum sonic bleed and speaker-rattle! A nice package for sure, but this music is actually best heard on CD, as everyone's least-favorite format does at least allow for 80 minutes of nonstop auditory immersion without mood-wrecking breaks to flip the 7" over. And, while we're at it, also VERY recommended is mastermind Scott Cortez's other project, Astrobrite, which retains the oceanic guitars of Lovesliescrushing while adding nifty pop elements to the soup. The first album was recently reissued on LP by some genius, and the only person smarter than that guy is ME because I went and ordered myself a copy the other night.
(S-S Records, 2007)
RAW! And probably the only Mexican slackfuck 7" in my collection. With its shit-sound abrasiveness and vaguely early-Stooge-ian boneheadedness, I actually prefer this stoned, careening -- yet tight enough -- bloomph over anything on the band's kickin ghettoblast debut LP, The Exploding Now, as it offers both better songwrite and noise-as-texture -- rather than just noise-as-noise -- while still retaining the nifty woo-hoo energy of the alb. And on the B, Brenda Lee's (not Peggy Lee, as credited on the sleeve, dudez) "I'm Sorry" is rendered pleasantly unrecognizable as a buzzing, caterwauling, midtempo clomper, all VU '66 rather than the familiar she-croon syrup. So that's swell. And very worth having.
I happened to see Los Llamarada live around the time of this release... remember them being fun and surprisingly young, and also remember accosting one ill-at-ease member at/to whom I insisted -- probably at length -- that I'd tried my best to get Prindle out to the show; they'd recently conducted an interview wherein they'd fluffed his site.
I'd failed, though. Could I have tried better, That Guy from the band? Yes, there is no doubt. But still. Don't be mad. Listen to the B-side here and imagine it coming straight from my heart. PLEASE.
(Subterranean, 1983)
Well gosh, Bruce Loose loses an "O" to become "Bruce Lose", and then goes and LOSES the rest of Flipper while he's at it in order to become his very own solo guy for this one-off single. The cad! Recorded between Generic and Gone Fishin', it clearly features elements of both albums: you get the repetition of the former and the branch-out experimentalism of the latter. But, unfairly or not, this trebly 7" suffers by comparison in that it misses the messy intensity and beef of even the artiest Flipper material. And while sure, Loose/Lose was off doing his own thing here -- as evidenced by the thin vocals, lack of guitar/bass-roar, and the ticky-tacky drum machine that dominate both sides -- it's tough to deny that, at the end of the day, "thoughtful" rather than "hilariously bludgeoning" inevitably rates unfavorably when put up against BL's parent band, making the single more curio than anything else.
AND YET.
...At the same time, I oughta be clear that DUD this is not. Not HARDLY, son! For example: "What's Your Name" is a creepy-crawly, door-scratching nighttime take on standard Flipperisms, and "Waking to Sleep," well, shoot, that's a San Franciscan sludgepunk-whiteguy straight-up perpetrating some hip-hop in 1983! This record won't explode your ear-world (nor does it try to), but it's deserving of at least a cursory play by anyone even mildly curious about Flipper extracurriculars. Fusetron tends to have copies on hand, so those so inclined might as well give some bucks and give some listens. Thoughts?
(The Catalogue, 1988)
Fuggin' flexidiscs. Cheaply made, super skip-happy, easily destroyed. Thankfully, these flippity-floppity wrecks more often than not avoid the inclusion of exclusive material and have historically appeared packaged as bonus/sampler/gimmick freebies -- the MP3 giveaway of the pre-MP3 era, kinda -- otherwise the very existence of the format would be tough to defend. That said, Loop's (stuck into Brit magazine The Catalogue in late 1988), which falls into the "sampler" category, is hardly worth mentioning, as it's simply the album version of "Torched" pressed onto a one-sided disc. Good deal if you're some dink mag-reader in '88 getting exposed to the band for the first time, pretty much pointless for everyone else, both then and now... just pick up the full Fade Out album instead. Now, if it's an ESSENTIAL flexi you want, go out and find "It's a Gas" by Alfred E. Neuman, and friends and enemies alike will soon know you for the cut-up you truly are as those wonderful sounds issue forth from your speakers.
(Head, 1987)
I always thought it was silly for a band like Loop – invested as it was in drawn-out and oft-metallic hypno-jams – to release 7”s, and apparently those guys agreed with me, since they only ever bothered to push three of the things out onto the market. The first of those, the “Spinning” single, is a good example of said silliness, since it adds a B-side (“Spinning Part Two”) that’s nothing more than an extended instrumental coda… why not just tack that onto the 12” version (which is “Spinning Part One”) and eliminate the fade-out/fade-in that brackets the side-break? Which might be what “Spinning (Spun Out)” on the World in Your Eyes singles comp is, but I honestly can’t tell if that’s the case or not; sounds like “Spun Out” might have some additional overdubs. Regardless, it’s a strong piece of Stooges-meet-Spacemen lunkhead-psych, with plenty of nicely-toasted swoops and wiggles in the guitar department. And now that Robert Hampson has finally overseen reissues – COMPREHENSIVE and TIDY reissues! – of Loop’s entire catalog (including ALL versions of “Spinning”), there isn’t any excuse for not owning the whole of this sledgehammering gunk… he’s made it easy for you goofs.
(SharkAttack!, 2001)
Released between the Sleeping on the Elephant Fog and Calm Right Down albums, this mighty fine single actually shares more with the noisy Terrastock space-rock of the group’s debut Rewired EP than with the spaced-out (albeit still noise-inflected) pop-/rock-leanings of later days. “Something to Give” has the hazy, bluesy psych-stomp feel of very early Spacemen 3, or perhaps mid-’90s Brian Jonestown Massacre – but with a little more dynamism than either band typically threw out there on a per-song basis – while “Only One Time” makes a more frantic, clear-headed run through similar regions. A final blast of looped clubnoize points the way, I’m guessing, to the Compass splinter act.
Lockgroove doesn’t seem to exist anymore (breaking up after Calm Right Down, which includes serious Best Songs Of The 2000s contenders “Payin’ the Price” and “Execution Style”), but folks from that group and brother band Charlene are still a-strummin’ and a-thumpin’ and a-ooh’in’ and a-aah’in’ around the Boston area these days as Broken River Prophet, a worthy venture that displays much in the way of sonic connective tissue. See ’em, if leaving the house happens to be your bag! Heck, I did it and it involved a BUS.
