https://open.spotify.com/track/3t7t23DVn6lfFySSxwUwRp?si=a128126804d748ad
Recommended if you like Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci
Tag Archives: Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci
“Nothing Can Stop What is Coming” [2021)
https://open.spotify.com/track/5YYaGYJvAHLJvFI5jEarQC?si=aa737481136046a0
Recommended if you like The Boo Radleys
“Carmarthen” [2021)
https://open.spotify.com/track/1kV8AxtYItjuTBOBHEGmPH?si=c1127b376ba84ffa
Recommended if you like Gorky’s Zygoti Mynci.
Especially the album The Blue Trees.
41020 [2021)
A silver mt. zion.
Montreal.
Hotel tango.
Sighing synths.
Leonard Cohen.
Getting cold.
Lee Hazlewood.
Arizona into the Rockies.
Wyoming.
Road music.
Music of wide open spaces.
Charles Mingus checks in.
Bob Dylan.
Tumbleweeds.
Was QAnon bullshit?
WFMU seems to think so.
And all their hipster listeners.
Missing the Godspeed You! Black Emperor.
Chris Isaak.
My Bloody Valentine.
R.E.M.
Automatic for the people.
Rightly asking if this guy, Pauly Deathwish, is Borat.
Elvis working at the truck stop.
Nevada.
New Mexico.
Into French philosophy at a Barnes & Noble.
Film criticism.
Cinematic music.
The great philosophers.
Taking on Philip Glass.
Rachmaninoff.
Swedish version.
Poor girl with grey teeth.
Dirty bra.
Addicted to Kardashians.
And meth.
Smoking candy cigarettes.
Brutal, cold world.
No fall back.
Withdrawal back.
Wanna lock me for blood pressure.
It ain’t no cakewalk.
Ripoff.
Tech moves fast.
Write anything.
Better than nothing.
Bad press.
No press.
You have a printing press.
The Innocence Mission.
Miles.
Porgy and Bess.
A thousand planes.
Two ambient instrumentals to start this album.
Setting an amber tone.
Pensive.
Ex-pensive.
Time is a luxury.
And Miles comes in.
Bending notes.
Sighing again.
Like music from Big Pink.
John Simon.
Leonard Cohen.
Very much of the Deserter’s Songs type.
Song cycle.
Van Dyke.
And Coltrane leaps in.
No bends.
Solid sax.
Honky.
Low mids.
Leaping up.
Transposition.
A little noodling.
And WHAT THE FUCK.
Now we are in Blue Hawaii.
On a jukebox in Nashville.
Sawdust on the floor.
Just spit that tabaccy anywheres.
It really is Elvis.
Loaded.
Lou Reed.
Doo-wop.
We’re in east Texas with George Jones.
Straight country.
Classic country.
Bona fide redneck interpolation.
“Daisies on Your Doorstep”.
Troubled relationship.
Robert Altman.
Nashville.
Hitchcock.
Traut.
Birds.
Grandaddy invades!
Modesto!!
And back to EXPANSIVE verb.
Cathedral.
Serious shit.
Country gothic.
Phil Spector would have loved this.
The plandemic that killed Phil Spector.
Biggest celebrity to buy the farm.
Buy the farm?
Or sell the farm?
During this whole plandemic.
Write copy.
Boilerplate.
You have no publicity.
I block all reposts.
I wanna EARN it.
Organic.
Diminished 7th.
Dissolve into what?
More Mercury Rev homage.
Drums from “Desperado”.
Another lonely bloke ended by “Holes”.
Favorite song ever.
Happy end.
Drunk room.
Tom Waits.
The chord.
Spring.
Le Sacre.
Back to regularly scheduled programming.
Knife in the Water.
Austin.
R.E.M. again.
Big Star.
John Cale droning away on the viola.
No tremolo.
Swing it.
Ragged time.
Texarkana.
Arkansas.
And Texas.
Definite Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci nod.
Nick Drake.
Again The Innocence Mission.
Birds.
Pink Floyd.
Fairport Convention.
Psych barn.
The Byrds.
Gram Parsons.
Neil Young big time.
Stooges meet Beach Boys meet Messiaen.
But the Bowie knife is orange.
Made in Germany.
Kanye West and Wayne Coyne drop in.
An anti-hit.
When you can sing, but you get raped by auto-tune.
Loosen that shit up.
Going all Arabic on me.
Raga.
Spinal Tap.
Clouds of sound on almost every track.
A very ambient album.
Mood set.
Mood retained.
Mature.
Duran Duran.
Peaches DJ Berlin.
Where’s Warhol?
Nigel Godrich.
Jonny Greenwood.
Thom Yorke.
Grinderman.
Roger Waters again.
Microtonal blues.
Straight into Bjork.
Does she umlaut?
Sounds of a Mac.
Swan.
Alarm clock.
Gentle waking.
Paganini.
Rachmaninoff.
Elton John.
Stevie Wonder.
Sly Stone.
James Bond in Rio.
Drax.
Os Mutantes.
Jobim.
Korean frogs.
Shinto.
Spy guitar for reprise.
Tom Verlaine.
Richard Lloyd.
Paul Simon.
Rhythm of the saints.
Graceland.
Beethoven emperor concerto.
Slow.
Beloved.
Tokyo.
Press roll.
Sushi.
Kill bounce.
Phil Selway.
Colin Greenwood?
A masterful track.
“Icelandic Pastiche”.
NOW WE’RE TALKING.
Papa Trump back in the house.
For the apocalypse.
Rocky Balboa.
L.L. Cool J.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Second coming.
To save.
Vengeance is his.
Everyone given a chance.
A fair chance.
NASA.
I hear a single.
“Landslide”.
Wisconsin decertified.
Ramthun came through.
About fucking time.
There’s a riot goin’ on.
Paperclip Nazis.
Eric Carmen.
Smokey Robinson.
Tears of a motherfucking clown.
Oboe.
Michael Stipe.
Gil Evans.
Having the French horns get groovy.
Amelie.
Sketches of Spain.
Sunday morning.
Loveless.
Kevin Shields.
Belinda.
The Soft Bulletin.
Christ coming down from the clouds.
Like a ton of bricks.
Anvil.
Don’t call it a comeback.
Not all the way.
Staple Singers.
Rick Danko.
Rocket pans across stereo field.
Jesus talkin’.
Crucified.
Died.
Buried.
AND ROSE AGAIN, MOTHERFUCKERS.
Jesus more space than NASA.
Really a masterpiece of sample placement.
Crystal-clear mix.
Clouseau.
Peter Sellers.
Bass solo.
Absolute Mingus.
Bloody jaw-dropping.
This is like a fucking lost Roland Kirk album.
This track!
Concerto for Booty and Orchestra.
Montreux.
Can never spell.
System hacked.
No more spelling.
Adieu au langage.
Flute loops.
Cocteau Twins.
Ties together album.
Last track coming on like Faust.
Built to Spill.
Silver Apples.
In memory of a bloke who bit it.
End of Night on Earth.
Real recorder.
Charity.
You will live forever, my friend.
I never knew you.
You aren’t forgotten.
Thought of you put in this track.
Catharsis.
Yerself is steam.
Smashing Pumpkins.
Siamese.
Great album by Pauly Deathwish.
Spotify.
iTunes.
Solid.
-PD
drugs [2021)
We are finally catching up with Pauly Deathwish.
Here on his sixth album, drugs.
Good psychedelic surf start.
The romance must have seemed possible.
Christian trappings.
A great opening track.
Psychedelic Christianity.
Think of those private press releases from the ’60s and ’70s.
I’m hearing the joy and gravity of Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
The breakdown of this song “An Ocean of Cough Syrup” is where it’s at.
Maybe a bit of Kevin Ayers.
Wasted innocence.
After the party.
The party at the end of the world.
Certainly song lyrics reminiscent of Wayne Coyne.
Sonic Youth.
Yummy Yummy Yummy.
Pop psych.
Monkees.
Maybe the romance has faded.
Tabloid.
Even Dire Straits.
Walk of life.
Track 2 with acrobatic chord changes.
Music school.
Straight-up Fort Leavenworth presentation.
A pop song about biological warfare, economic warfare, psychological warfare, and divide/conquer.
This is some serious shit.
Not sure whether to call Billy Bragg or Glenn Greenwald.
This is the kind of shit that wins Nobels.
So maybe we are hearing the new Dylan here.
Imagine if Thom Yorke actually had something to say.
The bends.
Lift.
Leonard Cohen.
John Cale.
Anthemic.
This dude is definitely right-wing.
I guess you could say.
Imagine if Bob Dylan was actually in the John Birch Society.
That’s what you get here.
Hey, take it or leave it.
Ezra Pound!
But this dude is all about ‘merica.
And i got no problem with it.
Climax.
Constitution of the USA.
Time’s up.
“memes at the ready”.
Information warfare taken into the realm of head music.
Songwriting.
This guy is a danger…to the lame liberal establishment.
THIS MOTHERFUCKER HAS RELEASED 7 ALBUMS THIS SUMMER!!!!!!!
Kraftwerk.
Jon Spencer.
Martin Rev dipping Copenhagen.
Ministry?
Butthole Surfers?
Dabbling.
“Latinas for Trump”.
Wow.
Track 3 is a trucker song.
Set in Switzerland.
With production like Nigel Godrich.
It’s a long track.
But enjoyable.
Drum machine and acoustic guitar.
And funky clavinet.
Jerry Reed.
Amos Moses.
Yodeling!
FUcking hell.
Haven’t heard this since Jerry Lee.
Dwight Yoakam.
Chris Isaak.
But this is the kinda shit cognizant about There’s a Riot Goin’ On.
Spaced cowboy.
Travelogue of Swiss sites from cinema history.
I have a feeling this guy would drink Klaus Schwab’s blood.
This conspiracy platter is fine listening.
Variety.
French/German.
No Italian.
Except Cortina d’Ampezzo.
No Romansch.
Motorik.
NEU! meets Gram Parsons.
Who is/was this “Swiss Alps Truck-Driving Gal”?
Cosmic funk.
Like French band Air.
Great bassline.
Dancy filler track of highest quality.
Mike Lindell needs to hear this shit.
mark_packet.
recieve_good.
What if Wayne Coyne and Dave Fridmann actually made songs that spoke to something larger?
They’ve hit it occasionally.
You gotta have Jesus in your heart.
Brian Eno first four records spun out again and again.
Cornelius.
Stereolab.
And WHAT THE FUCK?!?
Delta blues?
Country blues???
Yes, indeed.
“COVID-19 Blues”.
Like late-period Dylan.
Seriously.
If Dylan passes, this dude is next up.
I know it sounds implausible.
Communism used to be risqué.
Now the tables have turned.
Paul Joseph Watson needs to hear this shit.
The human condition.
Dr. Steve Pieczenik needs to hear this song, “COVID-19 Blues”.
This is Stax.
Muscle Shoals.
Atlantic.
Booker T.
But with that San Antonio twist.
Pauly Deathwish from the Alamo city.
Augie Meyers.
Flaco Jimenez.
Is Trump still the President? 😉
When was this written?
Why that move to Bedminster?
Cabinet meeting.
A unifying song.
Like “Dixie”.
Ask Abraham Lincoln about “Dixie”.
Masked and anonymous.
QAnon line as money shot.
Sweet harmonica.
Linn drums.
Beck.
Loop.
It don’t matter.
This record rocks the Walmart parking lot.
GUITAR SOLO!
Jimmy Vaughn.
B.B. King.
Richard Manuel tickling the ivories.
Band brown album.
Call Q.
Call Mojo.
Call Uncut.
Side two for all you vinyl lovers.
“Let’s Get Creative”.
Floyd delay.
Sexy song.
J. Spaceman.
Jeff Tweedy.
Kid A.
Really special production.
Which just goes to show that anything can be done with an iPhone.
Except privacy.
Tim Cook cocksucker.
In shitty record store.
Radiohead were our Beatles.
Or their Beatles.
Now many friends have left.
You can’t say White Lives Matter.
Can someone please tell Pauly Deathwish this?
Not that he SAID it.
Because he didn’t.
Trail of Dead.
Which makes sense.
Read this motherfucker’s bio on Spotify.
No slouch.
I happen to know some extra details which I may divulge at a later date.
Lots of training in music composition.
Multiple touches with Nadia Boulanger.
Sexy song.
T. Rex.
Bolan.
Jonny Greenwood.
Scott Pilgrim.
Edgar Wright needs to hear this shit.
No cap.
Dead ass.
Trans.
Neil Young.
Dead Man.
Thurston Moore needs to hear this shit.
Funny mention.
Watch the water.
August 20.
Rollerskate Skinny appreciation society.
St. Johnny.
Boo Radleys.
First Stereolab album.
Grandaddy.
Harvest drums.
Like it!
Like a Sonic Youth country album.
Made in a barn.
Nothing Ween about this shit.
Except for the trucker song.
Which is funny as fuck.
This dude definitely a QAnon.
“Midnight Rider”.
Paul Revere.
One if by…two…
Mercury Rev.
Suzanne Thorpe.
Applied memetics.
Oh shit.
First Eno record.
Desert island.
THIS is impressive.
Turns out to be motto of 4th Psychological Operations Group (4thPOG) at Fort Bragg.
The PSYWAR just got real.
Vietnamese ghosts amplified.
But this is Chinese.
China bio attack.
Fauci through China.
Focus on Peter Daszak and his absurd opera-singer brother.
There is going to be hell to pay.
Q-uantum of solace.
PCAPs.
Obviously, Pauly Deathwish loves the instrumentals from Bowie’s Low.
This is a constant touchstone.
Trance.
Meditative techno.
Ugh.
When the bass drops in on “Verbum Vincet ’72”.
Who was Q?
Who is Q?
Was Q a psychological operation?
From whence might it have emanated?
Roger Waters.
Hell to pay.
Criminal networks wiped off the face of the earth.
Peking opera.
Sue me.
LeBron James is a worthless cocksucker.
I think I would get along with this Pauly Deathwish guy.
8964.
We have it all…in Utah.
“Bluffdale” like Marquee Moon.
Meets chiptune.
Super Marquee Moon.
Even a bit of John Bonham.
Good drum sound.
Dubstep?
Riots worldwide.
No vaccine passports.
Here’s where BLM and MAGA come together.
Don’t vax us, man.
A unifying event.
The real racists are the totalitarian Democrats.
Am I doing this right?
Pepe Lives Matter needs to hear this shit.
Klaus Voorman bass.
Leave it in.
Smacked out of your gourd.
Phil Spector murdered by the Rona.
Lee “Scratch” producing The Clash.
People want to sleep forever.
Sleep through this global nightmare.
Gotta wake up.
But the reality is crushing.
So God gives us solace here and there.
Black ark.
Meandering.
Oar.
Moby grape.
Hal Blaine back in the barn stoned on some world-class shit.
Nodding.
Space-age.
Astral weeks.
Nick Drake.
Ending album on serious note?
“Cotton Ball Soup”.
Will the masses win?
Against the vaccine passport bastards?
Montreal.
Where’s GYBE?
No heroes can be found.
Where’s Thom Yorke?
Radiohead?
Bob Dylan?
WWIII.
iTunes.
Spotify.
-PD
glitch [2021)
Cobra and phases.
Emptying a sampler.
Pierre Henry.
Schaeffer.
Always Flaming Lips.
A twist on bass.
Fridmann.
The church of Michael Ivins’ hair.
Jazz odyssey.
He wrote this.
Straight up.
Bold start to Pauly Deathwish’s 5th album.
Stretching out.
Space jazz.
Squiggle.
Sonic Youth.
Watch for upcoming single.
Cleared.
Glenn Branca.
Bitches brew.
Live eviL.
Mercury Rev.
Grassy.
Hit to death.
John McLaughlin.
Tribute to Jack Johnson.
Steve Gadd slow nerve action.
Hendrix.
Chuckin’.
Television.
Tom and Richard.
Hippies cool at CBGB.
Makeover.
Bowery toughened.
Are you experienced?
Paul Simon never sounded this tough.
Or desperate.
Always too cool.
But the lyrics give him a run.
Into Radiohead.
Another COVID album.
The best.
Pauly Deathwish.
Headlines.
Zeitgeist.
Epstein.
McAfee didn’t uninstall himself.
Charlotte Gainsbourg.
Lady Godiva.
A dentist chair in Florida.
Soros’s scumbag Rubin.
Forgot a fuck.
Not for kids.
Not safe for work.
F-bomb Ferguson.
Plastic Ono.
Primal.
John Paul Jones keys.
Real.
Frustration key of E.
The pitched song.
Godspeed You! Black Emperor.
Remember this connection.
“Montreal Heartbreak”.
Pure perfection.
Repetition.
Bravery.
Transient random-noise.
Hal Blaine on Harvest.
Trying to make it pay.
Hotel to Tango.
Stopped in Oklahoma.
Back when concerts were played in Austins.
Tonight’s the night.
Neil in Ontario.
A Canadian pastiche.
Bowie low.
Cohen Quebec.
Visconti.
The cure.
Ivermectin.
Hydroxychloroquine.
Disintegration.
The only artist to review his own albums.
Because, you know, fuck it!
9/11 will come out.
Everything building to a head.
First Zeppelin album.
Black mountain side.
Jimmy’s eyes glowing magenta.
They tell me he’s evil.
Maybe.
But you gotta know the story of the blues.
I tried to sell my soul to the Devil.
But I am saved by the blood of Jesus Christ.
Jesus protected me.
Satan wasn’t buying.
Down in the basement of the Gunter Hotel.
I tried to sell my soul for the world.
But God didn’t let it happen.
Thinking it was bad enough.
Only through Jesus am I saved.
The worst among sinners.
Trying to gain the whole world.
Willing to forfeit my soul.
God is good.
And I can out-produce Jimmy Page.
Because God is my guide.
I have a dirty mouth.
Mary Magdalene.
Go and sin no more.
We’re in a fucking war.
We gotta put Jesus first.
On the battlefield.
Out greatest stealth.
Delta blues.
Emerald Mound.
Barbecue.
Poor.
Rural.
I don’t know how to make copies.
And my black neighbors don’t know how to use the internet.
Joe Biden can get fucked.
But me, I like women with big tits.
Alex Jones quote.
I relate.
I don’t wanna be a part of this sick cult.
We need God on the battlefield.
Mercy is waiting even for Jimmy Page.
Turn from the evil ways.
Recognize King Jesus.
The sky is crying.
Hound dog.
Muddy.
Wolf.
Flange.
Phase.
Straight Thelonious.
With Coltrane.
Miles.
Pre-electric.
Second jazz tune.
Straight off blues.
The Monk solo.
Dissonant as a motherfucker.
MTHRFCKR.
Acciaccatura.
Who, me?
Carnival.
Honing in.
D.
Watery solo.
Buttholes.
Kuntz.
Is a joke?
Weird Al.
The Residents.
Don Cherry.
Malachi Thompson.
Soprano trombone.
Roland Kirk.
Reeded brass.
Klang.
Straight jazz.
Philly Jo.
Watch for first cover.
Unpredictable.
Mercury Rev.
John Peel.
Straight into a QAnon song.
Reggae.
Durham.
CodemonkeyZ.
Flynn, in fact, did not go to jail.
Spy dub.
Bob Marley gets all conspiratorial.
Haiti.
Obama gets arrested at his own birthday party.
Strzok blocked on Twitter.
Army Counterintelligence.
A bunch of cunts?
Not Seth Keshel.
The real deal.
Tony Shaffer.
Counterterrorism.
Will the FBI be shut down?
Department of Justice is the very heart of the Deep State.
Rosenstein is linchpin.
Bill Barr was miss.
Cymbals Eat Guitars.
Each given a chance.
Lou Reed.
Rollerskate Skinny.
Music like this hasn’t been made in 30 years.
Bowie would be proud.
The debris from the Nirvana signing.
The truly good bands.
Some Boo Radleys here.
Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
Beach Boys.
Good production.
Lee “Scratch”.
Black (Oak) Ark.
A disgusting record collection.
Mildew.
Lovingly preserved in filth.
Vinyl still good.
Cop shoot cop.
Strong statement against Antifa.
Dylan.
This guy is bold.
Deserter’s.
Amy Helm?
Rambo.
J. Spaceman.
Jack Fate.
Dylan tongue cheek.
Summer 2020.
BLM.
Only person to listen to this.
Pet Sounds.
Bellingham.
Fredonia.
SUNY.
Boces.
Wanker jazz.
Deep.
Boys peeling.
Give the anarchist a cigarette.
This is a fucked up record.
Calling David Lynch.
Gonna be hard for the Left to write off this guy.
Paradigm shift.
This dude troublemaker.
Name fits.
Trail of dead.
We know you, but do you know us?
Debord, eh?
Capitalism!
Soundgarden.
Chossudovsky.
Deep Pieczenik research.
9/11.
Space Force.
Satellites.
Leonardo.
NRO.
NGA.
And the beloved NSA.
More accurately: CYBERCOM.
Not yet split?
Nakasone double duty?
Architecture?
Who could bring down?
Two QAnon songs in a row.
Beatles.
White Album.
Magical Mystery.
Macca bass line.
Welcome to the revolution.
Sgt. Pepper.
Euros Childs.
Megan Childs.
Gorwel Owen.
Beautiful breakdown.
Bert Williams.
Good shit!
The jazz and blues build up into rock and roll.
Conspiracy songs.
Fort Meade on repeat.
780thC.
Army G2.
Cheyenne Mountain Alerts.
Air Force Cyber.
MARSOC.
Strobo.
Marquee Moon.
Big Pink.
Rhythm of the saints.
Tuatara.
Crime podcast.
Tettix Wave Accumulator?
The Supremes.
Berry Gordy trippin’ balls.
A Lisbeth Salander ballad.
Noomi Rapace.
FBI + CIA.
Both worthless.
But serves to delineate.
Interior and exterior.
Intel romance.
Smarter than Strzok and Page.
Richard Lloyd.
Too fucked up to catch Velvets.
I hear you.
It’s a bitch.
Rick Danko.
Thom Yorke knob twiddler.
Eno in Roxy.
Bogart.
The big sleep date.
Noir and chill.
Mulholland.
Breathless.
The harder they fall.
Shoot the piano player.
Doug Sahm.
We are here in San Antonio.
We are making the best of it.
Driving around.
Eating ZZ Top nachos.
Beer drinkers and hell raisers.
A real jalapeno.
Australia to steam like teapot.
Last song.
Spiritualized?
Joshua Tree.
Bono.
Epic.
Adam Clayton.
Comes with new iPhone.
An anthem like U2 ain’t written for a bit.
This is Dublin territory.
Sexy God believers.
Cigarette.
Irish whiskey.
A Guinness.
Cloves.
The wraparounds.
Luna.
My heroes.
Sterling Morrison.
And Jack Nitzsche.
But Bono can sing opera.
A good dude.
Needs to drop the carbon bullshit.
Global warming is giant fucking hoax.
Just like COVID.
The Edge knows.
Grow some balls.
Stop kissing the Pope’s ass.
This commie Pope is a fucker.
Jesuit dipshit.
Epic lift.
Pauly can play guitar!
Fucking hell!!!
Album builds up to last song.
Even last song builds up.
Fucking brilliant.
Glitch.
iTunes.
Spotify.
-PD
bucolic [2021)
It starts just like Charlotte Gainsbourg.
5:55.
Air.
Nigel Godrich.
But there is something different.
A shruti box?
A little distorto guitar.
Ah, yes.
Chuchotements.
Françoise Hardy.
A little Yo La Tengo.
Built to Spill.
Guitar carries it for a second.
Good lyrics.
All mood.
And then into an Amon Düül II warble.
Like Marc Bolan.
Jim Carrey.
Most annoying sound in the world.
Into Pink Floyd.
David Gilmour.
Circa The Wall.
Strange sadness.
Almost a premonition of impending doom.
Calm before the storm.
J. Spaceman telephony.
Floating with no highs and no lows.
All mids.
Strong opening track.
Very slow-moving.
Luxurious.
Immediate Delgados shift.
Paul Savage.
Pauly Deathwish.
Glasgow effect.
Great counterpoint for a pop musician.
But if you check this bloke’s CV…
You’ll know he went through Fux.
Gonna have to say Elliott Smith.
Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
Megan Childs violin.
Around the warm fire.
Welsh.
Expansive.
Strings open up.
Hate.
More Fridmann.
Pointillism.
Schoenberg.
Timbre.
Richard James.
GZM.
Beethoven.
Another Welshman.
John Cale.
Orchestral bass that Lou loved.
This guy’s a bastard.
Jaded.
Hurt.
Is this a breakup album?
I thought the last one was a breakup album?
Ahhh…
Into Gorwel Owen.
1968.
Floyd.
Atom.
Mad cow.
The last GZM album.
Rockfield.
Bohemian.
String band.
Money never runs out.
Cheap air organ.
Tubes?
Fan.
A very apropos album title.
Woody.
Tobacco.
Spring water Scotch.
And then the Great Reset arrives.
Like a fucking spaceship.
Dark shit.
What is this glitch business?
Thom Yorke blasts upon the scene.
Drums James Brown.
Good groove.
Savvy.
Whoa!
Marching band.
Drumline.
Snares.
Caught by Lee “Scratch”.
Guitar all mangled.
Melodies solid.
Mogwai?
Bert Jansch out of fucking nowhere.
Definitely Lips.
Pet Sounds.
Track rejected by Bond franchise.
Convincing.
Acoustic to electric.
Now it’s Serge.
Requiem.
Stereolab.
Break beat.
Absolutely boffo.
BOF.
More Brian Wilson.
Van Dyke Parks.
Phil Spector.
High Llamas.
Still a sadness.
That the old world is passing away.
FUCK!!!
Right into some Leonard Cohen shit!
Scott Walker.
How the FUCK was this recorded?
Sounds like 2″ tape.
Question:
how has this Pauly Deathwish released three albums in two months?
I can’t even keep up with this guy.
Mercury Rev.
Deserter’s Songs.
Levon Helm.
Chamberlin.
Mellotron?
Like a Christmas album.
See You on the Other Side.
David Fricke.
A review in the liner notes.
“Everlasting Arm”.
Definite vibe.
Record pillaging wizard.
Baritone.
Lots of fucking glockenspiel on this record.
But it’s nice.
Like Ennio Morricone.
Cinema Paradiso.
Mandolins.
Jackie Gleason.
Dean Martin.
Herb Alpert.
Tchaikovsky.
Again with sugar plum.
Slick!
Very light.
Chiaroscuro.
Fresher than the sweetness in water.
Hearing Dungen.
IV Thieves.
Makes sense.
“Frenchie” Smith.
Dig CV.
Light, British, airy.
Good hook.
Hooky.
Is this the single?
A little neo-psych Hendrix moment.
It’s definitely GZM.
Repetition until transcend.
Stereolab first album.
Not looped.
Manuel.
Carpenters.
Messiaen.
Definitely some breakup here.
Sonic Youth.
Sister.
Experimental.
Thurston.
Lots of drum machine.
Drum and bass.
Panning.
Definitely holds up with Radiohead.
How the fuck was this made?
PD tells us that it was all made on an iPhone with only a Telecaster.
That is some serious trickery.
Ear fooling.
This is COMPLEX music.
Mixes sound polished.
Clarity.
Some Chinese stuff.
Noise floor fucked for the first time ever.
Bacon?
Rollerskate Skinny.
It’s THAT good.
Shoulder Voices.
How was this made?
This heralds a new talent.
But this bloke is 44.
Tour sponsored by Ensure.
Not hearing a sophomore slump here.
Two albums in two months.
Review third forthcoming.
This dude is emo as fuck.
I dig it.
This guy is a mystery.
What is his deal?
This sounds more like a cohesive album that Introversion.
Introversion sounds like a debut album…in all the best ways.
Songs saved up.
A greatest hits.
Go big or go home.
This album deals much more in subtlety.
Not every song here is a home run.
This album breathes.
Ambiance.
Negative space.
More Beach Boys vibes.
70s.
Sad.
Bathrobe.
But mentally sharp.
A spark of genius.
A little bluegrass.
Bill Monroe.
Dock Boggs.
The old world is passing away.
Jonny Greenwood.
Georges Bizet.
Live forever.
Nonesuch.
Elektra.
Hoyt Ming.
Incredible String Band.
Wales, Scotland.
Back and forth.
And across to Ireland.
Oh, no.
There’s the single.
“Makes Me Wanna Stay in Bed”.
Emma Pollock.
Hate is all you need.
Coming in from the cold.
New Radicals.
Delayed bass from The Wall.
Pavement.
Spoon.
Good fucking song!
Eisteddfod.
All Is Dream.
Hard following up.
Unenviable.
Emma Pollock solo.
With Alun Woodward singing.
The Great Eastern.
New Spiritualized.
Banjo.
Let It Come Down.
Abbey Road.
Coldplay.
A Rush of Blood to the Head.
This bloke is serious as fuck.
Sad eyes.
I’m sensing a Jandek promotional strategy.
Final track Richter.
Ravel.
Emperor.
Philip Glass.
Conlon Nancarrow.
City/country dichotomy.
Urban/rural.
Urban encroaching.
Something felt.
Big symphony night.
Excitement of New York Phil.
The fucking french horns!
Automation.
A story in dynamics.
Lesson.
A folk album.
bucolic.
Pauly Deathwish.
iTunes.
Spotify.
-PD
Tropic Thunder [2008)
Jim Marrs fought the good fight.
Straight out of The Party.
And later Being There.
Full retard.
Ritardando.
Waiting with bated breath.
After just five days.
Seven days in May.
I didn’t recognize Tom Cruise.
Impressive invective.
What is it with these Scientologists?
Why they gotta be such good fuckin’ actors?
Travolta.
And musicians.
Beck.
Never mind.
Fuck ’em!
A bunch of nut jobs!!
‘Bout to rub tiger balm on this bitch.
Coogan spontaneously combusts.
But he had the right idea.
Strait out of Spies Like Us.
Strait out of The Three Amigos.
Massive influence of John Landis on Edgar Wright.
But here, Ben Stiller.
Straight out of Blair Witch.
Homage-o-meter.
Like Pavement.
I can relate.
Restecp.
Dgfffcf.
Real bullets.
One round.
Rock and road.
Full metal jacket.
Guarding the poppy fields in Afghanistan.
Pat Tillman.
Now comes the pain.
Why were McConnell and McCain in Burma?
ASSK.
toBurma.
https://wikileaks.org/clinton-emails/emailid/23471
First Secretary of State to visit Myanmar in 50 years.
Big feather in her cap.
She came, she saw, he died.
Her foreign policy achievements.
Think the CIA isn’t capable of stoking race riots?
Princess Diana.
Is this real world or exercise?
NEADS.
NORAD.
USSF.
Child soldiers.
Borat with video record.
VHS.
No more LARPing.
Thoughtful Americans can no longer have any confidence in the U.S. voting system…unless they are Democrats.
Which may be mutually exclusive to “thoughtful”.
Regardless, the machines are rigged for Democrats.
Democrats never get in trouble.
Especially the big ones like Hillary.
But also the ones like Ruby Freeman (who get $100 to stuff the ballot box).
Just as busted as Derek Chauvin.
Ruby Freeman with her knee on the neck of our vote.
And Shaye Moss.
Asphyxiating democracy at the State Farm Arena in the early morning hours of November 4, 2020.
And Ralph Jones Sr.
And an as-yet-to-be-identified fourth suspect.
Suspected of committing massive ballot fraud.
The whole country has seen it.
But Ruby Freeman walks free (apparently).
No consequences.
Because she’s a Democrat.
And it would be racist to not let a black woman cheat.
Maybe there was no Q.
Or maybe Q is about to unleash hell.
Don’t ask me.
I don’t know.
Consigned to play the role of Simple Jack for eternity.
Colonel Kurtz, I presume.
Loyalty.
Are there shifts?
I love America.
But my vote no longer counts in America.
Because of Ruby Freeman and (even more so) Dominion Voting Systems.
But also Hart InterCivic.
By way of the SolarWinds hack.
[Austin]
And even ES&S.
Why was Smartmatic interested in Burma’s vote in 2015?
Twitter.
You think we are weak and defeated.
QAnon was merely boot camp for digital soldiers.
Willing to die.
How die?
Rounded up by Biden’s death squads.
How die?
Targeted by Antifa.
How die?
Imprisoned on trumped up charges.
Better to burn out than to fade away.
Rust never sleeps.
Never stops oxidizing.
We know you, but do you know us?
We took down the Soviet Union with rock and roll.
Who are we?
We scoured Zbig’s big tell.
We will win the culture war.
You squash us, but we are Levi’s jeans in Gorky Park.
Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
You have to have balls.
To be a rock and roller.
Fuck it.
Let it roll.
Heads.
Call it in the air.
Tumbling into the basket.
Fish and loaves.
By the power of Jesus Christ.
We rebuke you.
Satan.
Q-uantico.
Larry Silverstein.
What a disgusting prick.
Human slime.
Warren Buffett too.
NetJets in Flight 93 neighborhood.
Nearest bird.
Golf tournament.
At Offutt AFB?
Lloyd Austin giving Donald Rumsfeld a run for his money.
As most pathetic, treasonous SecDef in U.S. history.
Forrestal is rolling in his grave while quoting Ajax.
Frank Olson has never been avenged.
What does Fort Detrick make of COVID-19?
Asymmetric?
Certainly unrestricted.
Warfare.
False-flag STAND DOWN.
Fake woke.
Lloyd Austin.
Traitor.
Trained actors.
Trained musicians.
Trained artists.
Information warfare.
Strategic intelligence.
CIA is Wall Street.
Hit ’em where it hurts.
GameStop.
Game continue.
The kabuki of war.
Willing to die.
Because I love George Washington.
And I love “one person, one vote”.
Because I am not a slave.
King Gary.
Gay.
Something in the Civil War.
Fog.
Bridge wired.
Stabbed by Mini Me.
War is hell.
All is fair.
I cannot accept a fake president.
How am I to participate in democracy if my vote no longer counts?
I lack “standing”.
My state lacks “standing”.
And all Democrats (and most Republicans) have also passed the buck.
Shirked their duties.
There is no justice at the Department of Justice.
But I still believe in the FBI.
I don’t believe in Comey.
I don’t believe in McCabe.
I don’t believe in Strzok (or his wife who just got a cherry position at the SEC).
I don’t believe in Lisa Page.
Clinesmith handling is a blatant double standard.
I still believe in the military.
I believe in law enforcement.
I shall remain peaceful.
I ask for the help of the military.
I ask for the help of law enforcement.
Make us proud.
Go out on the same limbs we do.
I have nothing in this life.
I am a “racist” just because I voted for Trump.
I need to be “deprogrammed”.
I need to be “re-educated”.
I will fight till my last day.
The word is mightier than the sword.
-PD
The Virgin Suicides [1999)
Cooped up.
Steve Bing.
Different reason.
Ron Jeremy.
Richard Branson.
Prince Charles.
Brexit.
Aria (Godard).
Kirk Kerkorian.
Al Gore.
Hillary Clinton.
John Kerry.
Nancy Pelosi.
Dianne Feinstein.
William J. Clinton Foundation.
Bill Gates.
Warren Buffett.
Epstein.
James Woods.
It’s all about politics.
Things you shouldn’t be doing.
Depression.
Suicide.
A feminine touch.
Alone on the football field.
“Obviously…you’ve never been a 13-year-old girl.”
Isolated and depressed.
Coronariots.
Deep state.
Start with ex-CIA.
Move outward.
John Brennan is key.
China is key.
- Biological warfare.
- Economic warfare.
- Psychological warfare.
- Divide and conquer.
- “Second wave”.
This is psychological warfare.
American Beauty.
Windows.
Records.
Playing them over the phone.
Communicating through curated songs.
Playlists.
Burning records.
KISS in the garbage can.
Death.
Triple suicide on the Left Banke.
Air.
Debord.
“I’m Not in Love”.
Compare 10cc to My Bloody Valentine.
To “Armenia City in the Sky”.
The unexplainable in death.
Why.
Trauma.
Young girls like happy endings.
Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci.
Face like summer.
An embarrassment of riches.
James Woods will become key.
Take the oath.
Kathleen Turner from Romancing the Stone.
Olives and tequila.
Burning bricks of marijuana to keep warm.
Kirsten Dunst is Marilyn Monroe for this era.
In the moonlight.
Trip Fontaine cops all of his moves from Val Kilmer’s Jim Morrison in The Doors.
Including the necklace.
Scott Glenn from The Silence of the Lambs.
Threatens to go all Exorcist.
Why did Steve Bing jump from the 27th floor?
Jumped or pushed?
Frank Olson.
Fort Detrick.
Biological warfare.
MKUltra.
CIA.
Col. George H. White.
Five sisters.
Mainly dealing with four.
-PD
Trainspotting [1996)
There’s something special about Scotland.
Several of my favorite bands are from there.
The Delgados. Teenage Fanclub. Primal Scream.
And it is this final band which really sums up this film.
The British really have never learned how to make films.
There are two major exceptions:
Chaplin and Hitchcock.
Why would they be exceptions?
Because they made their best films in America. Hollywood.
It’s ironic.
Because Chaplin and Hitchcock are perhaps the two best. Ever.
Hitchcock was the better director. Perhaps the most important ever.
But Chaplin was the bigger genius. His talent was limitless.
So my insult is not meant to imply that the British can’t make timeless films.
They can.
But perhaps not in Britain.
But this whole British blah blah blah.
This film is going in my new category: Scotland.
Another of my favorite bands (Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci) is Welsh.
I hope to have that category someday. Wales.
And last but not least: Ireland.
Which is not to say I don’t have a fond place in my heart for England.
I do.
Manchester. Liverpool. Bristol. Birmingham. Newcastle. I could go on.
But we’re here to talk about Scotland. And this film.
Trainspotting is, at once, a great film and not a great film. Simultaneously.
Let me explain.
7/7
Looks like as much of a false-flag synthetic terror…the state attacking its own people as.
9/11
Heroin addicts don’t know what day it is. Not to mention the “date”.
Heroin addicts don’t know what month it is. Even the year is a bit fuzzy.
They’re fairly sure that a new century has ticked over.
Ewan McGregor is pretty great here. In his too-small shirt. Accidentally shagging a minor.
Oops.
Ewen Bremner is good here. Especially the job interview.
Beautiful to hear English which begs for subtitles.
Jonny Lee Miller has the best hair. Like Thom Yorke once upon a time.
Bleach-blond chop.
But McGregor has the utilitarian buzz cut. The sad skinhead.
Spud on the curb. Talking up at Diane.
And Sick Boy always prattling on about James Bond movies. [like me]
Kevin McKidd is classic rifling through his VHS collection. Desperately.
Kelly Macdonald is a revelation.
But Robert Carlyle is really the only indispensable element of this entire film.
He’s not great. And yet he’s better than great.
Danny Boyle’s direction is generally daft.
It’s good. Then it’s great. Then it sucks.
But I’ll say this: this is an essential film.
You can’t know rock and roll without knowing this film.
Boyle lifted the DNA of rock (with the help of Irvine Welsh).
The story’s alright. The direction is passable.
But Robert Carlyle is a goddamned miracle.
He’s not conveying anything sublime.
But he’s conveying Scotland.
To me.
King Tut’s Wah-Wah Hut.
Yeah, I know…Edinburgh.
But it’s just as applicable to Glasgow.
I hear it in the music of Primal Scream.
And it shows up in the music of another of my favorites: Spiritualized.
And I hear it in the ravaging sounds of Nick Cave circa Grinderman.
The Anglophone world.
We Americans speak the weirdest.
Especially in my neck of the woods. Texas. The South.
But even New York. The Northeast.
There’s one more essential element about this film: Iggy Pop.
From “Lust For Life” to “Nightclubbing”, these tunes are moments of crystalized perfection.
Even Lou Reed is well-represented with “Perfect Day”.
If you wanna understand scumbag rock and roll, see this film.
Because the rockers are alive.
They have shite lives.
They live on nothing.
Unless they get lucky.
But there’s a vitality to their way of life.
See them in their natural habitat 🙂
-PD
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