yes, you will worship these fuckers
- Points for the Marvel comic book ref. "Oil Seller" (342 plays on their Myspace page) kinda gives you the tingly feeling you get when your balls automagically shift in the sac and the pubes kinda tickle ya insides your underwears. I'll be elsewhere when they play but if I feel the earth shift a few notches, I'll know whom (or it who?) to blame.
MouthEater - anudder VAG band - makes me think this here MacRock has stacked the deck for the Sons of the Confederacy. Moutheater is the sorry howling of the smashed and rotten tomatoes lying on the floor of stage David Yow and Michael Gerard built in their garages with their 9-5 paychecks. You can't help but feel that this vocalist has already started building said stage and is looking forward to years of entertaining his nieces and nephews after doing their taxes. Which is to say I probably will truly like and respect this outfit and hate myself for doing so. See?
Mouthbreather - so right after Moutheater comes this Richmond crew and is it a coincidence or is something at play at some higher level of the universe? Wasn't Mouthbreather a Jesus Lizard song, too? Wow, because unlike Moutheater, Mouthbreather doesn't sound even remotely like Jesus Lizard more like an thrashy emo band lost somewheres in the mid to late 90's. So what gives, universe?
Some other blog has an empty-3 for your collection if you don't beleeve me and want to make your own conclusions ref: general sucktitude of this vibe.
Tideland - Kelley Deal has huge fucking migraine headaches, so fucking huge, every bone aches just to make her brain feel like it won't explode and all that pain, she has to record that shit it runs off her brain in thick green blobs and she pushes it into a tiny tape machine (THAT REALISTIC thing she swiped from DAd cuz it had a handle and she used to bop down the street to it while chewing bubblegum) and it makes everything tinny and without that low and high end shit she can sleep at night knowing and she dreams then that she's got some band thing going and its going to be named after some Terry Gilliam flick she hated because it was so fucking cute and sad and stolen from her life and in the dream her band reaches its zenith opening for another scummy band in some scummier midwestern college town than the last one they played. In the middle of one of the songs, she remembers how she wants to kill her sister and replace her with some other sister that skinnier, more bitchy, less nice (maybe that other Kim) and doesn't flush her stash down the toilet at the gas station where they stopped to get gas and water and cigarettes and whirly pops - she's crying in the gas station and that chick at the cash register who used to play bass in Scrawl hands her a tissue. Its. So. Really. Bad...likethat. Or something. And if this band does "Shatterface" and if it doesn't sound too much like the Silversun Pickups then none of this ever happened.
Pygmy Lush - Tideland's Sterling, VA townmates jump right in next. Will they be emo's answer to White Zombie's second album [(and yes, emos, there is a need for an answer to Soul Crusher in I count at least 30 countries, so shut yer fat traps up and just, y'know deal with it or get into your fucking time machine and go write a song in 1989 that is better than "Godslayer", Q.E.D.)]... or will they be wearing their M. Ward asshats and singing into some vintage microphone aboot trains and shacks and the walking dead and wondering where they can buy a scarf or sumpin'. So... If yer Dad was a security guard at some black windowless building in the world's most powerful country, you'd probably do goofy shit like this, too. Band motto: "Slurp shit and die"...
Brainworms - the entire demo of 16-25 year olds from Richmond VA will prolly be in Harrisonburg next weekend. They will be pounding under mic'ed drums, getting cramps in their necks, standing around talking shit between sets, breaking guitar strings, making $16.50 at the merch table (which pays for gas, yay) and getting their whole I ain't gonna do drugs and drink likker vows tested. Hard. On Monday there will be much headaches and a full accounting. Many kitchen tables will be play host to streams of invective, grudges and complaints. Suicides, murders and even some guys will go gay. Rock is a fucking evil business you'd better know. You might as well learn how to read music and keep better time or just totally go do something else like knitting or soccer. "
Born With a Beard " mp3 courtesy of
Rorshack Records. Continental European tour begins in May.
Antlers - (not THE Antlers or Crystal Antlers you dimwitted fucks). So... What happend to Mass Movement of the Moth? Kinda liked them. I once asked myself this question in 2006. Or was it 2007? And then I drank a diet Coke. Considered a cheese snack. I think I turned on the TV. I sleeped walked that night (or should it be sleptwalked?) and found myself a choclate glazed donut filled with Reeces Pieces. I choked on the green piece until I realized there are no Reeses Pieces that are green so I must have been drugged. PRobably the diet Coke - who knows where it got it? Oh yeah, Richmond Virginia, hey I know that dude - he's in my journo class down at Virginia Commonwealth. He said the Fleet Foxes CD was shit and why was I wearing their t-shirt. I said it was better than anything he liked (Gwar, probably) ... ...fucker dosed me over some stupid band convo..."
Catalpa " (again, thanks or not thanks to
Rorshach Reccids ) and then I woke up in someone else's living room and played some X-box for awhile and went home in my boxers and t-shirt.
My Disco - (no, no, not My Dear Disco). Kenny Powers on My Disco: "Hey is this mic on? Yeah, shit. This is some of that post-punk minimalist shit that retards listen too. But even so, I cannot say how much the sustained single guitar chord stokes the buzz I got from this weed and coke. If I could put this tune behind that scene where Stevie smashes all those fire alarms at Jeff Davis High School, then my TV show would have been fucking perfect. Can't believe Australians made that shit." "
You came to me like a cancer lain dormant until it blossomed like a rose " MP3 blatantly hotlinked via SXSW.
Young Widows - Tundra melodies for old Russian farmers who got fired from their position in the Army for drinking too much and bleeding in all the wrong places. They packed up their shit and moved to Siberia where they hunted wolves and slurped potato and leek soups into their toothless souls. They dreamed of fat Caddilacs and fags on Miami Beach retching out their silvery guts of all the octupus and cheese rind and sour wine. Dogs came to grin at them and they could feel the cold from the outlayer of the skin of their feet to their scab-ridden bald heads. Inside bars, they knocked themselves out playing Pac-Man and that other video game with the worms that came down on top of you. They would stumble out, rank of Husky dogpiss and peach mouthwash, watching flocks of moths rise and fall with the suns and moons. Their faces fell into the ground and there they remained until the next issue of Maxim dropped. That metal blog
Brooklyn Vegan has told this story already so don't act like you believe me until you have been there, maaan.
