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Showing posts from November, 2009

hose.got.cable - Majesty

I've been working through the first hour of Star Trek, having called off "Dinner and a Movie", and, instead, just fixed pancakes, eggs and milk.  I have all the epicurean taste of a 12-year-old.  As great as this looks in 1080p, I'm just having a hard time staying awake.  Maybe I shouldn't have seen this four times this summer.  I'm a geek.

hose.got.cable was a bargain-bin discovery for me.  If memory serves, I scored this for $2 from Reptilian on a Sunday when I should have been home, painting a wall or fixing a toilet or doing whatever a typical husband and homeowner does.  But, like I said, I'm a geek.  I like record stores, book giveaways and staying faithful to the people I love.

Back to h.g.c: they were from Richmond and recorded for Old Glory Records. Old Glory was one of those labels like Vermiform, Vermin Scum, and Gravity that was amazingly great in the early 90's and then fell off the map by 2000.  Members of hose.got.cable went on to Rah Bra…

Lifter Puller - Fiestas + Fiascos

I can't exactly pinpoint when I was hipped to Lifter Puller, which is weird, because there's generally that "Wow!" moment with those bands that I've carried with me since I heard them. Maybe it was the guys from Dillinger 4 talking about playing with Lifter Puller on a riverboat in Punk Planet, or a mixtape from Bachman featuring the Rhymesayers crew dropping LP lyrics into 16 bars. I can tell you it wasn't an immediate thing; I think I had this CD for a month, occasionally listening, before I got it. But I DID get it.

Even though I know Craig Finn was telling stories, there is something unsavory and sordid about Fiestas + Fiascos. Even today it feels hyper-real...a codeine-laced mix of Nighthawks, Jim Carroll and Joe Strummer. This record makes copping dope sound sexy, and deals gone bad sound fun. You want to dance all night at the Nice Nice, then go home to your mattress laid out on the floor and drink shitty booze until 2 in the afternoon. This is t…

Minutemen - The Punch Line

Boon & Watt, L.A., 1984

I remember how excited I was when I found a slightly watered damaged copy of The Punch Line on CD in the now-defunct CMart in Forest Hill back in 1995. There's an excitement that I've been missing a lot over the past five years in discovering something brand new. My roommate and I were talking last night about going out on Tuesdays and getting knocked out by a band you've never heard before. I'd say it's a function of getting older, but it doesn't ring quite as true as I'd hope. I want desperately to have that nervous, right-before-the-first-kiss feeling again, the way I did the first time I heard Out of Stepor A Love Supreme or The Punch Line.

I don't know what else to say about this, other than the Minutemen have always been one of those bands I'd want to emulate if I were in a band. There is no bullshit here; just the sound of D Boon, Mike Watt & George Hurley getting to the point. It fucks me up knowing that a…