https://share.stationhead.com/8VXILI092UF
“Heartbreak Hotel”–Elvis Presley
“Born to Run”–Bruce Springsteen
“Streets of Baltimore”–Gram Parsons
“Ramblin’ Man”–Hank Williams
“My Kingdom”–Echo & the Bunnymen
“Goin’ Home”–Dinosaur Jr.
“Nature Boy”–Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
“Maggie M’Gill”–The Doors
“Dreaming”–Blondie
“Beautiful”–Christina Aguilera
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2kqP5YdPDoOdIkmqbBlB4k?si=416ca6c8991e49a0
https://share.stationhead.com/YR0XktxmyJF
“Flying Cloud”–Dinosaur Jr.
“Jealous Guy”–Roxy Music
“Clocks”–Coldplay
“Opening”–Philip Glass
“Spoon”–CAN
“Suite bergamasque: III. Clair de lune”–Claude Debussy
“Goodbye Blue Sky”–Pink Floyd
“Blue Clouds”–Mercury Rev
“Big White Cloud”–John Cale
“China Girl”–Iggy Pop
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4yJdVHveqwJvrXa5J946W3?si=be2007ca21c04142
So Pauly Deathwish comes out with a Sonic Youth cover.
“Schizophrenia”.
Sounds like Sade and Yoshimi-era Lips.
Like mental illness is no big deal.
Strange.
Almost bossa nova.
Like an elevator music rendition.
I dig it, though.
Bachelor pad music for hipsters.
Sounds like the chord progression is totally different.
This bloke gonna be locked up with Stravinsky in Boston.
Kinda Herbie Hancock doing Nirvana.
William Shatner.
But then that fucking piano comes in.
Like “Time” from Aladdin Sane.
Fucking hell.
Beautiful and fucked up.
Ratchet up Conlon Nancarrow.
Something Charlie Parker about this.
Impossible arpeggiator.
Talking the Kim Gordon lines.
Muted.
Lou Reed.
Leonard Cohen.
This is good shit.
Gets all ’80s.
Public Image.
Finally Thurston and Ranaldo drop in.
Shit gets real.
The harmonies on this song are insane.
Like Messiaen.
Definitely fits the scordatura.
Something Brian Wilson about this progression too.
Like fuzzed-out Smile.
My fiancee dumped me 12 days ago without even telling me why.
Four year relationship gone.
NEXT SONG!
Suzanne Ciani.
Real guitar?
Sounds a little Built to Spill.
Very circumspect.
Great harmonies again.
This dude didn’t cheat his Fux.
Creeping automation.
Ambient.
What will it do?
Some sad shit like Godspeed.
Silver Mt. Zion.
Hats get going.
In a Silent Way.
Bass drum drops in.
It is obvious Pauly loves “A New Career in a New Town”.
This vibe resurfaces in many of his songs.
But THIS song!
Very “Mayonaise” by Smashing Pumpkins.
Like Glenn Branca with a better childhood.
A long instrumental.
Slow, simmering fire.
Anger.
Sadness.
Mixed together.
Catharsis.
SLOW-LY building.
Arpeggiator about to get wild again.
Mothersbaugh.
Fuzz bass drops in.
Soft Bulletin.
Wow.
What a guitar tone!
Sounds like a fucking harmonica.
Great lo-fi…Devendra Banhart vibe.
But this is straight Velvet Underground.
BRMC.
An instrumental with ooohs and ahhhs.
Bottom drops out.
Drums chugging away like Primal Scream.
Fucking glockenspiel!
A’ight, mate.
Interesting touch, there.
Little bit Mercury Rev.
See You on the Other Side.
Chugging away.
Guitars enjoying themselves.
Ghost of Sterling Morrison.
Tune called “Catharsiss” [sic].
Must be some weird Godard reference.
And the last song of this maxi.
Similar start as track 2.
Strange flange/phase Shepard scale weirdness.
Truly chilled-out, mellow bathtub guitar.
Like Yo La Tengo.
Those fucking pricks.
Why did they block Pauly Deathwish on Twitter?
That’s uncalled for.
Bloke’s just a struggling musician.
But they are holier than thou.
Well, Pauly’s played Maxwell’s in Hoboken too.
YLT never hit a vibe this good except on “Pablo and Andrea”.
Fucking unblock Pauly Deathwish, you losers.
Twitter.
Cymbals Eat Guitars vibe.
Very chilled out.
A little “All Cats Are Grey” feel.
Good guitar noodling.
In a Verlaine/Lloyd way.
Why did my fiancee dump me?
She won’t even tell me why.
12 days ago.
The day before thanksgiving.
Drums kick in.
Good beat.
MBV would have gone for this.
Similar guitar underneath.
A little J. Mascis.
Living with my parents.
Are you in therapy?
Haha.
FUCK THAT.
Yes, I review my own albums.
Because no one else will review them.
And because I have put out 16 albums in one year.
I don’t have time for people to catch on.
I worked hard on this shit.
I’m the same age Alan Vega when he started.
About to be 45.
Old as fuck.
So, I have a lot in common with Pauly Deathwish.
I feel his pain.
His fiancee dumped him too.
12 days ago as well.
She also didn’t tell him why.
She just started ignoring him like he was some piece of shit.
So I feel totally justified in helping Pauly out with this review.
To help get his music a wider audience.
Young Heart Attack feedback.
Radiohead clank.
“Creep”.
Back to the Badalamenti synths.
She just turned off her heart.
Maybe she doesn’t realize how much she is hurting me.
But I think she’s just a vindictive bitch.
-PD
Teenage Fanclub.
That glow in The World’s End.
But a sadness.
THE sadness.
Emily Dickinson.
Unrequited.
Unattainable.
My Bloody Valentine.
Sloshy grunge hats.
Edge echo.
Chris Bell.
I Am the Cosmos.
Yerself Is Steam.
Slowdive.
Rutti.
Brian Eno.
The disappearance of Madeleine McCann.
Tom Petty.
You don’t know how it feels.
J. Spaceman.
Abbey Road.
Air.
George Martin.
Beck.
Badfinger suicides.
Loser.
Spiritualized.
Royal Albert.
I can only give you everything.
Rick Danko.
Loping.
The Delgados.
Dave Fridmann.
Black magic warded off by honesty.
Good timing.
Divine.
Sigur Rós.
Nigel Godrich.
Pocket symphonies.
Charlotte Gainsbourg.
Serge on the way.
Lenny Bruce, even.
Hit to Death in the Future Head.
Wait at least until track three to break it down.
Southern Harmony and Musical Companion.
Gorecki.
Arvo Pärt.
Deserter’s Songs.
Absolutely.
The confusion of ridiculous counterpoint.
Aaron Copland.
Tonal, yet dissonant.
Thick Billy Corgan.
Siamese Dream.
Definitely a sadness here.
Dawn Upshaw.
Tabula rasa.
Death.
Immense Mellotron.
Tchaikovsky.
Abrupt modulation.
Sugar plum.
Lou Reed.
Ennio Morricone.
Cinema Paradiso.
All you need is hate.
Upstate.
Chaliapin.
Basso profundo.
Jussi Björling.
Dvořák.
Memorial day.
The Inflated Tear.
Columbus, Ohio with duct tape.
Debussy.
Posing with a bass clarinet.
Primal Scream.
Get Duffy.
Rock ferry.
Smokey Robinson.
Sad clown.
Dead clown.
Kinks.
Grasshopper.
Suzanne.
Woodwind quintet.
Did I ever write one?
Yes, I did.
César Franck.
Saint-Saëns.
Organ symphony.
Or is it contrabassoon?
Nadia Boulanger can tell you.
My teacher’s teacher (twice over).
The Left Banke.
LSD.
Herb Alpert?
Hummel.
Handel.
Strawberry fields.
Stereolab.
Unequivocally.
Transient Random-Noise Bursts with Announcements.
A little lo-fi.
Vocal doubled.
Vox continental.
Great hook.
Changes that pull at your heartstrings.
More melancholy.
A fucking marimba solo?!?
Are you kidding me???
Makes sense.
Pauly Deathwish collaboration with Gordon Gano of Violent Femmes.
Lost Bayou Ramblers.
Gordon knew him as Death.
I have become death.
96 Tears.
Farfisa.
Partials.
Tim Gane tone.
Faust IV.
Doogie Howser?
Scary.
Impending.
Suspense.
Rock bass.
Ozzy.
Black Sabbath.
Amazing Grace.
Pete Townshend.
Front.
Back to J. Spaceman.
Dirty ass rock and roll with pristine horns.
Expensive drugs.
Sophisticated changes.
Éminence grise?
Is this the artist we’ve been waiting for?
Rodriguez?
R. Stevie Moore?
Wesley Willis?
Sounds like Jack Nitzsche.
Major Velvet vibes.
Suck-ceed twice.
Dylan with P-bass.
Mick Taylor.
Too much attitude.
Keith Richards.
Let it Come Down.
Shakespeare.
Fucker kicked the bucket.
First to be vaxxed.
Maricopa.
First Suicide album.
Bossa nova.
The Soft Bulletin.
Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Space.
Gimme some lovin’?
Steve Winwood?
How old?
La Monte Young.
Slow changes.
First rehearsal tapes.
Alan Vega.
Martin Rev.
New York City heroin.
Warhol Factory torn down.
Across from YMCA.
Trump dances.
Great throwaway lyrics.
George Harrison.
Sound of universe.
Spacemen 3.
Savage tone.
Revolution.
Direct into mixing console.
Fried signal.
White album.
Sonic Youth.
Derek Bailey.
Lou ecstacy.
Late Lou.
European son.
Blood pressure rising.
Brutal.
Frankie Teardrop.
I think I’m in love.
Dub bass.
Will the circle remain unbroken?
When I had dinner with Roky.
13th Floor.
First Velvets album.
Heroin.
Drug rush.
Invincible.
But you gotta buy it.
Dirty Baltimore.
Cop shoot cop.
Cheree.
On the jukebox.
Eat at the gas station.
On tour.
First time in Texas.
American Supreme.
Iceland.
13 Angels.
It’s definitely Bowie.
New career.
Same town.
New old.
Old is new again.
Mercury Rev.
Savvy programming.
Dynamics.
Break beat.
A fuck ton of flutes.
Flute loops literally.
Bowie sax.
Little fluffy clouds.
Every drop.
Gay glam chorus.
Tony Visconti.
Don’t underestimate.
Pere Ubu.
First album.
Méliès.
Boys peel out.
Boces.
Inspector Clouseau.
Phone.
French ambulance.
Pants.
Gives me pants.
Videogames.
Cutting hole.
Pink Panther.
Herbert Lom.
A Shot in the Dark.
Grandaddy.
Under the Western Freeway.
Weeping willow.
Under that.
With Sean Mackowiak.
Square waves.
WarGames.
Tympani.
Rollerskate Skinny.
Dublin.
Kevin Shields.
Comes back loud.
One song mastered soft.
Definitely Low.
The main influence of Pauly Deathwish’s debut album.
Honegger.
Pacific 231.
Chariots of fire.
Vangelis.
Such a groove.
Nancarrow.
Polyrhythm.
Immense sadness.
By the side of a freeway.
Under an underpass.
Not like RHCP.
Much darker.
Like Godspeed.
Philip Glass.
Eno.
Blackstar.
How did a Trump supporter make this album?!?
I thought all Trump supporters were redneck morons???
This is way fucking better than Ariel Pink’s dabblings.
This sounds like a debut album.
Songs saved up.
Like The Strokes.
Cinematic as fuck.
Glitch Radiohead.
Trail of Dead.
Makes sense.
Because Pauly wrote the string arrangement on IX.
Dark.
Killers.
Disco compression.
Distressed.
These lyrics!
Johnny Rotten.
Trump 2021.
Snot on the crowd.
Arcade Fire.
Makes sense.
Lost Bayou Ramblers lost sessions.
Montreal studio.
This was all made on an iPhone?!?
Guy Debord.
Aladdin Sane.
Time.
Rick Wakeman?
Olivier Messiaen.
Major 7ths in uppermost range of piano.
Almost indistinguishable from octaves.
Eerie.
Slight.
Only for the sensuous ear.
The Wall.
Waters delayed bass.
No nonsense drums.
Humble Pie reference?!?
Ha!
Great lyrics!!
Predating new Bob Dylan album.
Check SoundCloud timestamp.
This is definitely the QAnon anthem.
This hook should be on a million conspiracy videos.
“10 Days of Darkness”.
Tell ’em Large Marge sent ya!
My end is my beginning is my end.
Grinderman.
No pussy.
Early-’90s.
Nirvana’s wake.
Finnegans Wake.
Great debut album (if I do say so myself).
Usual suspects.
Spotify.
iTunes.
Pauly Deathwish.
-PD
How not to start a symphony. With a rest. #5 (7)j j-j o ^ (7)j j-j o
Beethoven started with a pause. A pause, in this case, is unheard. Felt.
No hay banda.
Il y a n’est pas d’orchestre.
I wish I was more confident in my French memory.
The Spanish is simpler.
[silencio]
It could be Roberto Benigni in La vita è bella reeling off a priceless punchline.
[silencio]
It could be John Cage forcing us to listen in 4’33”.
Painfully good. A perfect film. Mulholland Drive. Dr. Mulholland.
I’ve either gained you or lost you by this point.
Dr. Benway.
You will excuse the word virus at work.
Perhaps the word bacteria predates Burroughs.
Always a cut-up in class.
And those classy suits.
It’s a talent to be weird, though Charles Mingus would argue otherwise.
A talent to be simple.
You have to stay with me like Lord Buckley or Lester Bangs.
I got yer Oxford comma right here.
, and don’t I know it!
She takes Hayworth’s name from Gilda.
Rita.
Laura Elena Harring. Laura Harring if you’re into the whole brevity thing. Concision of expression. Bthvn.
If you really wanna impress the familia, it’s Laura Elena Martínez Herring. Miss USA 1985. Just missed 1984.
Or well, Wilbur…
Mr. Ed. Paging Mr….
Herring. Pink. She is a living Modigliani onscreen for a brief moment on a couch. A stippled nipple in deep focus.
But this is not her film. She is a MacGuffin in heels.
No. This is Naomi Watts’ film. Boy is it ever!
But let us pop this balloon before it goes all Vivre sa vie on us.
Is this the best Amer-ican film ever made? Probably.
Dog Star Man has a steep mountain to climb without a soundtrack to blow Sisyphus to his zenith.
F for Fake is to American cinema what Histoire(s) du cinema is to the French pantheon.
The only real challenger, then, might be Gummo.
But let us return to Maestro Lynch. David Lynch. Montana Dave. The Cowboy…
This is, to reiterate, a perfect film. Such creations do not come along often.
As such, we should savor each morsel of finesse embodied in this feast for eyes and mind.
And don’t forget the ears. Badalamenti. Badda bing, badda boom.
What would Chico Marx have made of this film???
Who cares… It’s Chico stuffed into a dough ball suitcase with $50k and Groucho and Harpo mashed up
with even a good portion of Zeppo as Little Mr. Sunshine in Naomi Watts’ first character Betty Elms.
Nightmare on Elms’ street.
Mulholland Dr.
Great minds think alike. Cannes premier of this film May 16, 2001. Radiohead’s Amnesiac album? June 5, 2001.
Rita. Camille. Diane Selwyn.
Kryptos. Jim Sanborn. Mengenlehreuhr.
Set theory.
(0,2,3,5) Le Sacre du printemps.
Spitting espresso into a napkin, strikes fear in the hearts of the most hardened capitalists.
Fear.
The Flower That Drank the Moon. Not a real film.
The Big Sleep. She. H. Rider Haggard. Angel-A.
Finnegans, upon waking, diapasoned Wachet auf.
Just call me Death. Everyone else does.
We don’t stop here.
We push on. Like Gene Wilder on a magical fucking river of chocolate.
You can’t split the existential atom any further. Kubrick tried in 2001. And now Lynch had arrived at the same year.
If you open a MacGuffin, you will find nothing.
I have a bag full of money and I can’t remember my name. That is Hollywood.
This is the girl.
And the gun.
24x per second.
Truth before the big lie even sprouted wings. L’Effroyable imposture. Vérités et Mensonges.
It’s like the old Edison tone tests. Hit the lights. Who’s playing? The phonograph or the violinist?
Like looking at L.A. through Roy Orbison’s glasses. A blur…a haze.
No one has split the literary atom any further than Louis-Ferdinand Céline.
[…]
Those three little dots.
The rhythm of speech. From Modest Mussorgsky to Harry Partch.
Boris Godunov was lousy so we had to shave his armpits.
We would have never gotten to know each other so well, Boris and I. Henry. Mr. Bones.
Yeah, I keep on sloggin’ and get diminishing marginal returns.
Just a fancy way of saying less and less. Nothing (more or less).
And then nothing turns itself inside out.
Naomi Watts goes from gee swell to Valerie Solanas.
The key. CERN. When they rev it up.
What does it open?
Möbius (stripped bare by his bachelorettes), even
[The Large Hadron Collider]
Mimesis. Die a Jesus.
Greatest goal in life?
To achieve immortality and then die.
J. Hoberman. J. Mascis. J. Spaceman.
Putrefaction is merely Der Untergang des Abendlandes. The decline of the evening lands.
Rises east, sets The West.
Civility.
L’Usine de rêves.
That killer blonde that we all want. From Kim Novak to Daniel Craig.
Monty Montgomery. Hope you only see him once more.
Good v. Bad, 410 U.S. 113 (2001)
The abortion of Newtonian physics.
Twice.
Thrice.
Michael J. Anderson as Larry Silverstein.
We don’t stop here.
This is the girl.
Maybe the smartest thing to do is pull it.
And we watched the building collapse.
That would be the shadow government.
An accident is a terrible event—notice the location of the accident.
Who gives a key, and why?
-PD
paulydeathwish 