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Tag Archives: Badass Shit


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At the end of O Brother, Where Art Thou? the beloved protagonists are faced with quite a dilemma: let the lawman get to hangin’ or take a quick bum rush for a hopefully painless suicide-by-cop. You never expect what’s coming.

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You’re goddamn right, a flood right out of nowhere! Not the kind that ruins cities and drowns old women but the kind that rescues a lovable group of good-natured convicts from certain death! It’s also the kind of flood that was built right here in America by God-fearing Americans. Yep, that’s right…this flood was brought to you by the electric hands of the Tennessee Valley Authority.

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Let me step back here for a minute. You see, back during the 30′s when this movie takes place we in America had this thing called a Depression. That means nobody had  good-paying job with which to raise a family. Many men, like Ulysses, Delmar, and Pete, turned to crime just to make ends meet. And then there were those who joined government-sponsored work programs like the Civilian Conservation Corps, Works Progress Administration, and Tennessee Valley Authority–or TVA for short.

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The role of the TVA was to develop the rural areas of Tennessee, Kentucky, Alabama, North Carolina, West Virginia, Mississippi, and Georgia. This was a good thing for most of men from this area, as they were either flat broke or skimming by on profits from a measly moonshine operation. Of course, this is a blatantly stereotypical generalization of a proud and diverse people. However, it is also true.

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Moonshine still in Knox County, Tennessee. Photographed by TVA in 1936 as part of its Fort Loudoun Dam surveys. See, I told you so.

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In any case, almost all of the hydroelectric dams that are still operating in the area were built or planned during the period of the late 30′s by the TVA. This construction program, which was government-funded, was a big reason that thousands Appalachian people didn’t starve during those trying times. It also still powers the Daytona 500 into the living rooms and outhouses of millions of hillbillies.

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Today Americans are faced with a similar situation of those folks in the Great Depression. We have millions of able-bodied men and women who are receiving unemployment support from the federal and state governments. Without this help many would be forced out onto the streets, where they very well might end up like Ulysses, Delmar, and Pete–hunting for a hidden treasure that simply doesn’t exist.

But the big difference today is that these men and women on unemployment aren’t expected to offer anything in return. They don’t build dams, don’t blaze concrete trails through inhospitable lands, and last time I went camping I didn’t see anybody planting trees.

I’m all for helping people get on their feet during times of need. It’s an American responsibility to take care of other tax-paying, anthem singing ‘Mericans. But I also feel that the folks on unemployment should give something back to the community that’s paying their mortgage.

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So down what avenues of the public sector can we send these brave men and women. Let’s not set them to building environmentally harmful hydroelectric dams. It seems there are plenty of roads already built throughout this Great Nation, many of which I haven’t even driven on. And last time I went camping it seemed there were just about the amount of trees, give or take.

Here’s what I propose: enlist these fine people as a sort of police for modern social tact. We’ll call them the Silicone Valley Authority, simply because it works for the intents and purposes of this blog. Here’s a list of the SVA’s 10 most pressing duties.

Duty 1) Patrol vigilantly for people listening to standup comedy on their iPod. Arrest at sight.

Seriously, I hate the way you laugh.

Duty 2) Prevent everyone from posting cool videos on Facebook before I do.

At least give me a chance, jerk.

Duty 3) Discourage, violently, all German tourists from flaunting their good times on our weak American dollar.

Hey Hans, those glasses don’t look smart at all.

4) Commandeer and destroy any iPad that is operated by a user who is in motion under his or her own power.

If you don’t get off the sidewalk I will smack that thing right out of your hand.

5) Ban Twitter

I’m not going to lie, I still don’t get it.

6) Execute a successful viral marketing campaign to make old flip phones cool again.

My cell is so vintage.

7) End self-satisfying, rambling blog posts that have absolutely nothing to do with the post’s original subject matter.

Fine, be that way.

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Click here to download the 10-year anniversary clear vinyl-to-MP3

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Within potato cannon range of San Francisco lies a mysterious city called Oakland. I know very little about this sparsely inhabited wasteland. Mostly what I hear comes from the empty mouths of shrunken old women at BART stations. They tell stories I wouldn’t believe in dreams.

From their tales I’ve gathered a few key pieces of information. Supposedly the low-lying areas are inhabited by an athletic tribe of raiders that frequently demolishes the city in response to the cruel conditions within the fiefdom. This active rebellion generally blossoms at the Foot Locker, where frothing marauders flood the storefront until the collective appetite is whetted with fresh pairs of pillaged Jordans.

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The women tell me that when these maniacs aren’t stealing mad hops they generally snooze and laze the days away in a bubble of malevolent California heat. From time to time they escape this fever to San Francisco in canoes fashioned from discarded Street Sheet newspapers. While in the city they practice the traditional Oaklandish religious rite of taking frothy red shits at the top of the Embarcadero Station escalator.

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There are other stories of which I’ve only heard in passing:

That the premium pumps at Oakland gas stations dispense a blinding blend of bum wine for two pents a gallon.

That women were outlawed within the the city during the 1970′s. Any of the fairer sex who mistakenly stumble past the outer boundaries are quickly captured, bound with fine silk strands secreted from the Oaklandish male’s prostate, and fed live to chomping Oaklandish larvae.

And that the people of Oakland still use Myspace.

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Adorable.

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But there’s a part of me that thinks all of these stories are simply fabrications to keep us gullible San Frannies out of a hidden paradise. If Oakland is populated solely by a pillaging, all-male, insect-hybrid mob then how did such a phenomenal lady-birthed album emerge from its murky depths? Had those hollow-faced women lied to me all along? Who’s controlling these hyphens? Where are my car keys?!

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Could it be that just across the frigid bay lies a city filled with brilliant artistic promise? A city of unparalleled beauty and personal freedom? Where the sidewalks glow, not dissimilar to the fashion of Billy Jean? Where people don’t rock rollerblades, unicycles, and Segways while listening to Maroon 5 on stock iPod headphones like it’s no big deal…because believe me it’s a huge fucking deal?

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One of these days, when I’m feeling particularly brave, I will hop in my much neglected automobile and drive across the big gray bitch that is the Bay Bridge. I’ll shift into fifth, crest through the fog, and the powerfully angelic voice of Merrill Garbus will blast my soul like Moroni’s trumpet. Within the city limits I’ll be stopped by a gang of breathtaking eunuch crossing guards who’ll fetch my spirit’s fleshy temple from the drivers side and hoist its bobbing limbs sunward. The pleasure of knowing absolute sound–sound so pure you could drink it, piss it, and drink it again–will truly be mine. And I’ll all have a good cry.

Because that’s what you do when enjoying a really happy surprise.

You cry.

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Click here to peep perhaps the best album of the year. And then purchase a copy of your own because this is a keeper.

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It needs to be pointed out that some portion of this album was recorded in Dolores Park in San Francisco. Where this happened.

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The music video at the bottom of this post, which is one of the best I’ve ever seen, is NSFW. In response, here’s a scene-for-scene transcript for those morally handcuffed by a 9 to 5. Enjoy.

The cosmos is all there is,

or ever was,

or ever will be.

The cosmos is also within us,

we are made of stars.

We are about to begin a journey through the cosmos,

through the story of our own planet,

and the plants and animals that share it with us.

It’s a story about us.

We wish to pursue the truth

no matter where it leads.

But to find the truth we need

imagination and skepticism first.

We are going to explore the cosmos

in the ship of imagination.

Perfect as a snowflake,

light as a feather.

The ship will take us to the world of dreams,

and worlds of facts.

Come with me.

  1. Pablo Díaz-Reixa loads a Golden Cassette into a skeet shooter, which he then launches like a glittering canary into the sunlit future valley.
  2. The Golden Cassette ends its fancy-free flight abrubtly against an urban curb. It’s retrieved by a girl equally as golden and twice as nude. She gingerly inserts the Golden Cassette into a Golden Boombox.
  3. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the sonic musings of a roadside bush.
  4. A mysterious man lifts an enormous rock.
  5. A young lady licks a forked tree branch against the sky.
  6. A dirtbike drives in circles around Pablo Díaz-Reixa while he records the buzz of its 2-stroke engine.
  7. A young lady leaps bottom-first into a supple sofa. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the union of keister and cushion.
  8. A seated schoolgirl hoists her peach-colored skirt to expose today’s quiz written upon her bare thigh.
  9. A young woman faces away from the camera. With the thumb and index of her left hand she displays an eyeball to the audience.
  10. A leather-banded, topless brunette shoots an arrow with the aid of a simple bow.
  11. Two women in white lace dresses relax in the shallows of a calm lake.
  12. A woman with large glasses. A mirror reflecting Pablo Díaz-Reixa shatters. The woman’s glasses show a compound fracture in the left lens.
  13. A women removes her blouse in front of a cheap oil painting featuring tumultuous seas. She’s handed two sparklers and proceeds to shake vigorously.
  14. A showering, smoking explosion occurs two meters above the floor of a dark forest clearing.
  15. A man in a black shirt portages a bolt-action rifle at a sprint into the depths of a refreshing cement pool.
  16. Two men with gigantic fluorescent bulbs swing at one another, causing their bulbs to shatter in fantastic fashion.
  17. A crowd of technicolor peasants marches solemnly in X-formation across a desert.
  18. A young lady with red fingernails creates bubbles in a tall glass of milk with a bendy straw. The creamy froth overflows upon her smooth thigh.
  19. A large black ball drops aggressively in a black bucket. Blue liquid violently erupts from its confines.
  20. A short-denimed woman passionately kisses a nobleman’s marble statue.
  21. A lace-bloused woman sensuously performs CPR upon a similar woman whilst half submerged on a shallow shore.
  22. A crystal ball succumbs a dark forest’s rolling fog.
  23. A manhand takes possession of a woman’s stockinged thigh.
  24. A manhand commandeers a woman’s gold anklet.
  25. A woman severs the hip of her white cotton panties with an intimidating hunting knife. The result is a spectacular display of flesh.
  26. A raven-haired, bespectacled lady sucks on another’s big toe.
  27. A ghastly white-faced, white-haired figure pirouettes on white rollerskates through a shadowy discotheque.
  28. A movie theatre crawls with of furries.
  29. Masked banditos abscond with a prized calico rabbit down the alley of a Spanish barrio.
  30. Topless revolucionarias discover Pablo Díaz-Reixa hiding in bushes and give him a swift kick in the ass.
  31. A redhead and sandy blonde flash commuters from the overpass of a major highway.
  32. Nude women don bandanas with true stick-em-up flair.
  33. Pablo Díaz-Reixa records the mating of two chickens and one man on a queen-size bed.
  34. A wavy-haired tweezer falls victim to a chloroform assault.
  35. Potted flowers hold court on the edge of the racquet’s domain.
  36. Two topless women skim for pennies at the base of a small inland spring.
  37. A woman pursues what appears to be an infantile bull shark in waters it’d never call its own.
  38. An ancient candle long-melted upon and around a woman’s hand.
  39. A prudish woman lights her smoke with the flame of an eternal raven.
  40. Chickens that never were crash upon a maiden’s brow in ecstasy.
  41. Liquid blue flame dances harmlessly upon El Mano.
  42. A woman balances 14 towels precariously upon her left shoulder while lighting a cigarette. Towels tumble pathetically.
  43. Dr. Menendez instructs a blonde to perform the basic motor skills test of touching one’s left index finger to the tip of the nose.
  44. Pablo Díaz-Reixa swears an oath to a new age priest upon a paperback biography of Dutch soccer legend Johan Cruyff. The priest etches a single line upon Pablo Díaz-Reixa’s hand with a thick black marker.
  45. A leather-clad nomad pleads with invisible gods in a shallow, sandy billabong.
  46. A leather-caped woman runs from a dark hollow. She’s horrified to find a skull posted upon a tree at eye level.
  47. A trenchcoated woman sits with her head nestled sideways on a wooden table. Upon her temple rests a shallow saucer. A handled spoon enters, taking its share of the saucer’s creamy contents.
  48. Three women in white cotton dresses dance against he dying light of a setting sun.
  49. A brunette breathes in the light of a glowing crystal ball.
  50. A checkered-tweed hombre offers the seat of a red 10-speed to a mamasita in a short skirt, yellow scarf, and black stockings. As she mounts her metal steed her undies become the very intentional center of attention.
  51. An irregular polyhedron composed of straws sits oddly on a concrete floor.
  52. A hairbrush/mophead hybrid rests in juxtaposition with an aluminum tray filled with cigarette butts.
  53. Colored cotton balls on long, thin dowels protrude from a clump of silver tinsel.
  54. A man rides through an underpass on a beach cruiser at high speed. He is trailed by sparks.
  55. A 50/50 grind down the nose of a Crown Victoria taxi.
  56. A woman engulfed in blue forest smoke.
  57. In a darkened locker room a shirtless man shoots a stuffed panda in the head using a semiautomatic pistol.
  58. A skeleton emerges from beneath a bed to grab a woman’s ankle as she plants her foot on a thick rug.
  59. A large branch is struck against a calm lake surface, creating a shimmering rainbow spray.
  60. A pair of legs kicks wildly while trapped under an immense pile of laundry.
  61. A wall sprouts an arm that reaches aimlessly for a pair of audio samplers.
  62. A man extends his index finger wildly through his zipper to simulate a wiggling penis.
  63. A paper-bagged woman plays a piano.
  64. A back lot cowboy murders a white plywood box.
  65. Two women in white satin dresses attempt mutual homicide in a lake.
  66. Two nude women ride bicycles slowly away from the camera.
  67. Two women’s hair twists together to form a single French braid. The woman on the braid’s right tickles the woman on the left’s ear.
  68. A woman licks a forked branch once again.
  69. A man in white briefs stuffs a second pair of briefs down a vacuum hose. He then proceeds to stick the vacuum hose down his own briefs.
  70. A woman again smashes yet-to-be chickens on her brow.
  71. A man bent over a desk. Several books stacked upon the small of his back. Smooth, colorful stones placed in an oval near his mouth. Pablo Díaz-Reixa eats one of these stones with chopsticks.
  72. A man in a red long-sleeved shirt drowns beautifully.
  73. Pastel Klanswomen roam a dry, grassy hillside.
  74. A shirtless gladiator in black spandex thrusts his broadsword triumphantly toward the heavens.
  75. A beautiful nude Golden Girl fondles a Golden Cassette.

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Download The Album From Vinyl

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Tracklist 

A1 Bombay 3:39
A2 Novias 3:23
A3 Ghetto Fácil 2:44
A4 Soca Del Eclipse 4:10
A5 Lycra Mistral 3:49
B1 FM Tan Sexy 3:42
B2 Muerte Midi 3:47
B3 (Chica-Oh) Drims 3:39
B4 Danza Invinto 5:07

I’d never heard of Josh White until I bought this album. This only snuck into my collection because the cover jumped out at me and, at a single dollar, I couldn’t resist.  After reading the gatefold I feel that painting did a terrific job at capturing the man’s prodigious swagger.

Josh always had a great style, as a man and as a performer. He had a kind of imperiousness that used to make audiences shut up and listen. God, how he could stare an audience down! He was there to sing, and if people at the tables were talking, he’d hold a post, cigarette behind the ear, foot on the chair, guitar at the ready, and wait until his silence reached out like a living force and whammied the people to attention. Then he’d begin. He was a black man making his way in a white man’s world, he knew he had something everybody out to hear, and he was to be heard, on his own terms.

-Lee Hays & Don McClean

I’m going to do something I don’t know normally do and compose this post almost entirely of Wikipedia excerpts. Now, don’t click away just yet. This man’s story is immensely interesting and a true portrait of the (mostly losing) struggle for free speech in America. In these excerpts you’ll find Josh leading blind guitarists across the U.S. as a barefoot child, portraying Blind Lemon in the story of John Henry on Broadway, serenading the Roosevelts at the White House, and ultimately being blacklisted during the Red Scare.

Of course, in true blues fashion, the story ends with Josh White broken down, both in career and health, and in the grave before his time. He lived a hard life, made beautiful music, and is up there with Ray Charles, Johnny Cash, or any other musician who’s had his life turned into a feature-length film.

So, get comfortable, sit back, and breeze through the beautifully tragic life of Josh White and his sad, sad guitar.

Sorry, no song previews as of yet. Posting previews is getting more and more of a bitch because of electronic copy”right” protection.

Joshua Daniel White (February 11, 1914 – September 5, 1969), better known as Josh White, was an American singer, guitarist, songwriter, actor, and civil rights activist. He also recorded under the names “Pinewood Tom” and “Tippy Barton” in the 1930s.

White also became the closest African-American friend and confidant to president Franklin D. Roosevelt. However, White’s anti-segregationist and international human rights political stance presented in many of his recordings and in his speeches at rallies resulted in the right-wing McCarthyites assuming him a Communist. Accordingly, from 1947 through the mid 1960s, White became caught up in the anti-Communist Red Scare, and combined with the resulting attempt to clear his name, his career was damaged. White’s playing style influenced many future generations of guitarists, including Blind Boy Fuller, Brownie McGhee, Pete Seeger, Lena Horne, Nat King Cole, Harry Belafonte, Lonnie Donegan, Eartha Kitt, Alexis Korner, Odetta, Elvis Presley, The Kingston Trio, the Clancy Brothers and Tommy Makem, Merle Travis, Dave Van Ronk, Peter, Paul and Mary, Bob Dylan, Eric Weissberg, Judy Collins, Mike Bloomfield, Danny Kalb, Roger McGuinn, David Crosby, Richie Havens, Don McLean, Roy Harper, Ry Cooder, John Fogerty, Eva Cassidy and Jack White.

Two months after his father’s death, Joshua left home with a blind, black street singer named Blind Man Arnold, who he had agreed to lead across the South to collect coins after performances. Arnold would then send White’s mother two dollars a week. Arnold soon realized that he could profit from this gifted boy who quickly learned to dance, sing, and play the tambourine. Over the next eight years, he rented the boy’s services out to 66 different blind street singers, including Blind Lemon Jefferson, Blind Blake, and Blind Joe Taggart, and in time young Joshua quickly mastered the varied guitar stylings all his blind masters. In order to appear sympathetic to the onlookers tossing coins, the old men kept Joshua shoeless and in ragged short pants till he was sixteen years old. At night he would have to sleep in the cotton fields or in the horse stables, often on an empty stomach, while his master slept in a black hotel.

In February of 1936, he punched his left hand through a glass door during a bar fight, and the hand became infected with gangrene. White was advised by doctors to amputate the hand, and White repeatedly refused. Amputation was averted, but his chording hand was left immobile. Afterwords, he retreated from his recording career to become a dock worker, an elevator operator, and a building superintendent. During the time when his hand was lame, he squeezed a small rubber ball to try and revive it.

One night during a card game, White’s left hand was revived completely; and he immediately began practicing his guitar, and soon put together a group called “Josh White & His Carolinians” with his brother Billy and close friends Carrington Lewis, Sam Gary, and Bayard Rustin. They soon began playing private parties in Harlem. At one of these parties, on New Year’s Eve 1938, Leonard DePaur, a Broadway choral director, was intrigued by Josh’s singing. For the past six months, DePaur and the producers of the Broadway musical in development, John Henry, had been searching America for an actor/singer/guitarist to play the lead role of Blind Lemon, a street minstrel who would wander back and forth across the stage narrating the story in song. Their initial auditions with native New York singers proved to be unsuccessful, so they looked through previous race record releases to find a suitable artist. They eventually narrowed their search down to two people, “Pinewood Tom” and “The Singing Christian”, both used as pseudonyms by White.

After months of rehearsals and out-of-town productions in Philadelphia and Boston, John Henry opened on Broadway on January 10, 1940, with Paul Robeson as John Henry and Joshua White as Blind Lemon. Although the musical did not have long run, it helped jumpstart his career. Soon thereafter, Josh began working with Woody Guthrie, Lead Belly, Burl Ives, and The Golden Gate Quartet in a CBS radio series Back Where I Come From, written by folk song collector Alan Lomax and directed by Nicholas Ray.

Josh and Libby frequently requested the War Department to send them overseas during World War II to give USO concert performances for the troops. However, despite a Letter of Recommendation from Eleanor Roosevelt, they were constantly rejected as “too controversial”, considering that the U.S. Armed Forces were still segregated throughout World War II.

Throughout the 1940s, as a major matinée idol with magnetic sexual charisma and a commanding stage presence, White not only was an international star of recordings, concerts, nightclubs, radio, film, and Broadway, he also achieved a unique position for an African-American of the segregated era by becoming accepted and befriended by white society, aristocracy, European royalty, and America’s ruling family, The Roosevelts.

In January 1941, Josh performed at the President’s Inauguration. Upon completing that first White House Command Performance, the Roosevelts invited White up to their private chambers, where they spent more than three hours talking about Josh’s life story of growing up in Jim Crow South, listening to his songs written about those experiences, and drinking Café Royale (coffee and brandy).

At one point during that evening, the President said to Josh, “You know Josh, when I first heard your song `Uncle Sam Says,’ I thought you were referring to me as Uncle Sam….Am I right?” White responded, “Yes Mr. President, I wrote that song to you after seeing how my brother was treated in the segregated section of Fort Dix army camp. . . However that wasn’t the first song I wrote to you. . . In 1933, I wrote and recorded a song called `Low Cotton,’ about the plight of Negro cotton pickers down South, and in the lyrics I made an appeal directly to you to help their situation.”

The President, interested and impressed at the candor of his response, then asked Josh to sing those songs to him again. A friendship developed, five more Command Performances would follow, in addition to two appearances at the Inaugurations of 1941 and 1945; and the Josh White family would spend many Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays with the Roosevelts at their Hyde Park, New York mansion .

Josh White had reached the zenith of his career when touring with Eleanor Roosevelt on a celebrated and triumphant Goodwill tour of Europe. He had been hosted by the continent’s prime ministers and royal families, and had just performed before 50,000 cheering fans at Stockholm’s soccer stadium. Amidst this tour, while in Paris in June, 1950, White received a call from Mary Chase, his manager in New York, telling him that Red Channels (who had been sending newsletters to the media since 1947 about White and other artists who they warned as being subversive), had just released and distributed a thick magazine with subversive details regarding 151 artists from the entertainment and media industries who they labeled as Communist Sympathizers. White’s name was prominent on this list. There never had been an official blacklist—until now. White immediately went to discuss the situation with Mrs. Roosevelt—to ask her advice and help. With great empathy, she told him that her voice on his behalf would hinder his efforts to clear his name. She explained that if she wasn’t the widow of the president they would also be crucifying her. She continued that the Right Wing press had been calling her a “pinko”, citing her social activism and friendships with non-whites. That night, White called his manager back and alerted her that he would be flying back to America the next day so that he could clear his name. Upon arriving at New York’s Idlewild Airport, the FBI met him, took him into a Customs holding room, began interrogating him, and held him for hours while waiting word from Washington as to whether Josh White, who was born in America, would be deported back to Europe.

In 1961, White’s health began a sharp decline as he experienced the first of the three heart attacks and the progressive heart disease that would plague him over his final eight years. As a lifelong smoker he also had progressive emphysema, in addition to ulcers, and severe psoriasis in his hands and calcium deficiency in his body that would cause the skin to peel off of his fingers and leave his fingernails broken and bleeding with every concert. During the last two years of his life, as his heart weakened dramatically, his wife Carol would put him in the hospital for four weeks after he completed each two-week concert tour. Finally, the doctors felt his only survival option was to attempt a new procedure to replace heart valves. The surgery failed.

He died on the operating table on September 6, 1969 at the North Shore Hospital in Manhasset, New York.

-Wikipedia

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>>>Click here to download Disc 1

>>>Click here to download Disc 2

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Tracklist

A1. Free and Equal Blues

A2. Where Were You, Baby

A3. You Don’t Know My Mind

A4. Sam Hall

A5. Run, Mona, Run

A6. Timber

A7. Takin’ Names

A8. St. James Infirmary

B1. One Meat Ball

B2. Peter

B3. Jelly, Jelly

B4. Jesus Gonna Make Up My Dyin’ Bed

B5.  Halleleu

B6. Prison Bound Blues

C1. Midnight Special

C2. Told My Captain

C3. Going Home, Boys

C4. Trouble

C5. Silicosis Blues

C6. Southern Exposure

C7. Empty Bed Blues

D1. The Story of John Henry

*Download  unavailable. YouTube embedding on WordPress disabled by copyright owners. Pick up a copy of this if you can get it for less than $12.

I picked this up a few weeks ago on Record Store Day at the very choice Explorist International, which is  a few blocks from my residence. Several other records made their way into my collection that day but this one is particularly fun. It caught my ear during a visit a few weeks earlier when the shopkeeper was playing it on the store’s soundsystem, and I wanted to buy it at that time. However, I was unemployed and couldn’t justify paying $17 for what I thought was the soundtrack to a French remake of the American Bonnie and Clyde film when I was worried that buying anything other than Safeway discount yogurt was a vulgar extravagance.

Luckily, a steady typing assignment came my way and now I’m hell bent on blowing my paychecks as soon as possible on LPs, EPs, BPs, 3CPOs, and a few rough DPs. This big daddy here is just a lot of fun. It’s goofy, it’s sexy, it’s corny, and above all it’s terribly catchy.

There’s no French version of the Bonnie & Clyde movie, this is just a song about the famously devious couple. In French. And while it doesn’t make much sense it really does work and twerk.

Here are three examples that display the clever little gimmicks which somehow pop completely and absolutely in every song on this album.


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Tracklist

A1 Brigitte Bardot et Serge Gainsbourg – Bonnie And Clyde

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Michel Colombier Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

A2 Brigitte Bardot – Bubble Gum

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

A3 Serge Gainsbourg – Comic Strip

Arranged By, Directed By – David Whitaker
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

A4 Brigitte Bardot – Un Jour Comme Un Autre

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – G. Bourgeois*, J.-M. Rivière*

A5 Serge Gainsbourg – Pauvre Lola

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

A6 Serge Gainsbourg – Du Film “L’eau À La Bouche”

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Alain Goraguer, Serge Gainsbourg

B1 Serge Gainsbourg – La Javanaise

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Harry Robinson Et Son Orchestre*
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

B2 Brigitte Bardot – La Madrague

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Claude Bolling Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – G. Bourgeois*, J.-M. Rivière*

B3 Serge Gainsbourg – Intoxicated Man

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre

Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

B4 Brigitte Bardot – Everybody Loves My Baby

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Claude Bolling Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Jack Palmer, Spencer Williams (2)

B5 Serge Gainsbourg – Baudelaire

Arranged By, Conductor [Orchestra] – Alain Goraguer Et Son Orchestre
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg
Lyrics By [Sur Un Poème De] – Ch. Baudelaire*

B6 Serge Gainsbourg – Docteur Jekyll And Mister Hyde

Directed By – Arthur Greenslade
Written-By – Serge Gainsbourg

The albums on this blog were selected because they speak. Some speak to the beauty of the world and its many peoples. Others speak through open exhaust pipes. One speaks idealistically while wearing funny glasses. And there are some that speak simply in a Southern drawl.

But there’s only one that whispers directly into your subconscious memory. When the needle drops Preemptive Strike lowers its voice to mask unsettling comments within the safety of snares, kick drums, and a chorus of eerie instrumentation. It implants auditory psychotropics, code named Altered States and THX 1138, deep within your belfry folds. When Preemptive Strike’s recorded voices stop your thinker will return dialogue with voices of its own. Voices that trigger flashbacks that may or may not have happened. Flashbacks that drive you to vainly scrub epidermis, dermis, muscle, to bone. You’ll never be clean again.

You’ll listen to this album and slip into slumber tonight with a conscious as pleasant as a plum. You will because you never felt DJ Shadow’s needleworms wriggle from your headphones through your ears and on into your subconscious. They’ll gestate for two hours and hatch thousands upon thousands of brain cicadas. This brood will emit a terrible, mind-screwing tone when they sense your morning wake.

In a few moments you will have an experience which will seem completely real…
It will be the result of your subconscious fears, transformed to your conscious awareness…
You have five seconds to terminate this tape…
Five, four, three, two, one……………………………………………….

The sound of this terrible screech won’t be entirely audible. You won’t really hear it over your SoniCare toothbrush during your pre-public rituals, but you’ll really know it’s there. Scrambling your thoughts, replacing ideas of an ordinary business lunch with an insect-like fixation on the scent of your bosses trousers. You’ll know it’s wrong, and attempts will be made to get your mindset back on the straight and narrow. This won’t make a lick of difference. It’s already begun and completely began.

Loathsome scenarios involving everything you love and hold dear will become permeated with the grotesque. Your first bike ride will be replaced with memories of your mother being torn apart by hyenas in a Kroger parking lot. You know this didn’t happen, but the cicadas know it did. Their land claim on your cerebrum will continue to grow. They’ll pump you full of alternate scenarios, both lived and yet to be. Loss of control will extend down to your core, to the building blocks that compose the very idea of what is you.

You’ll check yourself in a mirror and only see a conglomeration of ghostly crawling. The exterior is gone, a relic of the past. But what’s really important is what happened inside. Did you, as a person–a collection of beliefs, experiences, loves, prejudices, and questions–just disappear? If not, then what of it remains? In other words, what does your soul look like?

Accept one deviant concept: that our other states of consciousness are as real as our waking state and that reality can be externalized.

>>>Click here to download Preemptive Strike at 320 kbps LINK FIXED

The real stars on this album are the “What Does Your Soul Look Like” lineup that composes one of the two LPs. However, if you haven’t heard this album I don’t want to give anything away. As such, I’ve posted two excellent, mutually exclusive songs for your listening pleasure. Enjoy.

Tracklist

A In/Flux 12:12
B1 Hindsight 6:52
B2 High Noon 3:57
B3 Organ Donor (Extended Overhaul) 4:26
C1 What Does Your Soul Look Like (Part 2) 13:51
C2 What Does Your Soul Look Like (Part 3) 5:12
D1 What Does Your Soul Look Like (Part 4) 7:12
D2 What Does Your Soul Look Like (Part 1) 6:21

First, I need to say that you have to get this album. It kicks a million asses eight days a week.

Now that that’s out of the way I can start. This album contains a song you might all know: “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer.” Initially this was to be the focus of this album, and still is. However, what I decided to change was the types of alcoholic beverages highlighted in the post. The original idea was to pick my favorite bourbon, scotch, and beer and discuss their merits. However, this doesn’t make much sense given the context of the song.

Second, “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer” is a cover of John Lee Hooker’s version, which is in turn a spin on Amos Milburn’s 1953 hit “One Scotch, One Bourbon, One Beer”. I was unaware of this for the longest time so here’s a video for the uninformed:

Third, I don’t want to  neglect any of the other equally good or better songs on this album. However, I’ve never been to Delaware, so I don’t really have any clever quips about “Deleware Slide”. I’m not going to write about how things songs sound, because it would do the song, and every other song on this album, a huge disservice. But it still deserves, no, demands a listen. So listen to it, goddamn it. And feel free to preview the few featured on this post.

Ok, enough lollygagging. One bourbon, one scotch, one beer. Which ones would you drink if you were broke, womanless/manless, and hitting an enviable 3 a.m. last call? Keep in mind all of the picks have to be cheap because you’re broke, remember? So, here are my picks:

One Bourbon

Bourbon snifter not included.

During my years in Cincinnati and Covington, KY I had a lot of experience with Bourbon. I mean A LOT of experience. I’ve tried over 50 types of bourbon since I was, ahem, 21. The actual number is locked away in a barrel in the back of my head. So, if I remember correctly, I’m kind of an expert.

During most trips to The Party Source or one of Covington’s 2 billion liquor stores I’d pick up a bottle of Old Heaven Hill Bonded. Bonded Bourbon’s the assortment that’s been stored in a government-secured storehouse for at least 4 years and packs 100 proof (50% alcohol) minimum. Old Heaven Hill’s aged for 10 years and only costs $9 for a fifth in Kentucky, which is absolutely ridiculous.

Heaven Hill is a major player in the distillery world and produces many of the finer Bourbons (Elijah Craig, Evan Williams, Fighting Cock, Henry McKenna, J. W. Dant, Old Fitzgerald) but its lowly Heaven Hill varieties rarely make it out of Kentucky. I’ve tried Heaven Hill Gold Label, Green Label, Black Label, and Old Heaven Hill Unbonded. They’re all great Bourbons for the buck and aren’t sweet like most cheap Bourbons. I need to get a few handles sent out West post haste.

That and a case of Ale-8-One: Kentucky’s soft drink and the absolute best mixer for Bourbon.

One Scotch

J&B

Ok, so not the cheapest scotch available, and I know I’m broke, but I still have to have some standards. J&B’s available at nearly every bar in the United States, is about the price of Jim Beam, and doesn’t taste like turpentine or swamp bog, which is what many expensive scotches taste like. J&B is all right by me.

Plus, it’s the favorite drink of Patrick Bateman. Patrick’s a man with a taste for Huey Lewis and the News, fine dining, and viciously murdering prostitutes. He’s a man who knows what he wants.

One Beer

Red Dog: A Class Act

Last night I met a brewer from Barcelona at one of the bars near my place. He’s in San Francisco for Beer Week and just wanted to talk and talk about his beer. It was really hard to figure out what he was saying because he was very drunk and had a super thick Catalan accent. Basically all I could understand was, “I love good beer, I love the hops!”

He kept pouring beer from one cup to another in attempts to aerate the brew and bring out the flavor. The only thing he succeeded in was spilling beer on the floor over and over. While this was happening his non-English speaking friend, who was wearing a turtleneck sweater and a backpack, danced like a 3-year-old in front of the soul-record-spinning DJ.

This wasted Barcelonian kept asking if we wanted to smoke weed or hash. Every now and then he’d slyly pull out these little nickel bags full of the stuff and give us a shit eating grin that said, “I’m a naughty boy, I love the herb!” I didn’t have the heart to tell him that you could light up a fat blunt on a school bus here and no one would give two shits. Seriously, I can’t walk a single block without smelling pot in this town.

I also didn’t have the heart to tell him that I used to only buy 30-packs of Red Dog in Kentucky for $13 dollars.

>>>Click here to download Awesomeness at 320 kbps

Tracklist

A1 You Got To Lose 3:15
Written-By – E. Hooker*
A2 Madison Blues 4:24
Written-By – E. James*
A3 One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer 8:20
Written-By – John Lee Hooker
A4 Kind Hearted Woman 3:48
Arranged By – George Thorogood
Written-By – Robert Johnson
A5 Can’t Stop Lovin 3:04
Written-By – E. James*
B1 Ride On Josephine 4:17
Written-By – E. McDaniel*
B2 Homesick Boy 3:02
Written-By – G. Thorogood*
B3 John Hardy 3:18
Arranged By – George Thorogood
Written-By – Traditional
B4 I’ll Change My Style 3:57
Written By – Parker-Villa
B5 Delaware Slide 7:45

On Monday I’m hopping in my Mazdaspeed Protege, pointing west, and making an incredible journey to San Francisco via Route 66. AAA couldn’t provide a continuous map via digiweb, so my boo and I are going old school and finding tee pee motels, giant blue whales of the open plains, and the real Cadillac Ranch using some type of paper guide that folds in the most disgusting fashion. During this dangerous trip we’ll need some good thinking music and I couldn’t think of a better album to copilot than Yo La Tengo’s Fakebook. Its pining vocals and floating guitars scream open roads and unreconciled Midwestern emotion.

See, I’m leaving Cincinnati for good. I’ve lived here for 20 years and have a lot of stored-up memories. Over the four or five days we’ll spend driving across this great country my mind will roll the footage of a life spent cradled in the Midwest’s overly-warm bosom. I’m hoping that Fakebook will enhance the picture clarity and contrast of these toasty times, both good and bad, as they flicker across my Brain-O-Vision.

I can’t afford LCD.

Here’s a list of the 15 things, in no particular order, that I’ll be missing most from in and around the Queen City.

1. Penn Station

Yes, Penn Station is an East Coast Sub shop founded in Cincinnati. And yes, my favorite sub is a Philly Cheesesteak. But there’s something about Penn Station that’s just SO freakin’ good. I’ll take mushrooms, onions, banana peppers, mayo AND pizza sauce over the real deal cheese whiz sammich any day.

*Make sure you get it wrapped up to go so the meaty juices fully saturate the criminally addictive french bread. MMMM.

2. Contemporary Arts Center

The CAC is the coolest 6 floors I’ll ever climb.  It plays host to internationally-acclaimed contemporary art in a city known for little more than a now-forgotten show called WKRP In Cincinnati. The curators also change the exhibits in a timely pace so the work never gets old. AND THE BUILDING IS JUST SO FUCKING COOL.

*The top floor is all interactive art. It’s meant for kids but hey, I’m a grown-ass man and no 3rd-grader is going to remove me from the rocking trailer against my will.

1st Floor at the CAC

CAC, on the corner of 6th and Walnut

3. Cincinnati Museum Center at Union Terminal

One of the best Art Deco buildings in the entire nation. It was originally a train station built in the 30s and almost demolished during the 70s but now plays host to three attractions: the Cincinnati History Museum with its very cool scale model of WWII-era Cincy, the Museum of Natural History has a spooky man-made cave with a strange, musty smell I’ll never forget, and the OMNIMAX Theater uses an encapsulating dome screen to keep moviegoers on the verge of puking.

*Check it out on a Saturday and get the free Rotunda Tour. This will take you through the President’s Office, which is a circular Art Deco dream of inlaid wood and stainless steel.

The Rotunda: The world’s largest half dome filled with absolutely incredible mosaics of the American Dream.

I want to live in this room.

4. Cyclones Hockey Games

Cincinnati has two major league sports teams, but the most exciting sporting organization is a Minor League Hockey Team. The Cyclones have won the ECHL’s Kelly Cup two out of the three past seasons, which also makes them the most successful professional sports team in Cincinnati. The games and the fans are always raucous. If you’re lucky, like I once was, you’ll get picked to play musical chairs out on the ice between periods.

*Cyclones games are always the most lively on Big Beer or Dollar Beer Nights. You can imagine why.

#1 Fan

5. The Southgate House

The best mansion-cum-music venue in Cincinnati is right across the river in Newport, Kentucky. The Southgate House has three stages: a big ballroom (which features the best sound system within 300 miles) complete with wraparound balcony, a large music parlour upstairs with all sorts of creepy paintings from knock-off old world masters, and Junie’s Lounge featuring open mic acts, local flavors and portraits of dead presidents. The whole place oozes character.

*The Southgate House is a great place during the summer to catch a drink because of its large porch, which rocks older country-western/folk music and affords patrons a limited view of Great American Ballpark.

Birthplace of the Thompson Submachine Gun, aka “Tommy Gun”

6. Lenhardt’s and Christy’s Goetta Grilled Cheese

Goetta is a Cincinnati delicacy that’s somewhat like breakfast sausage and all about preparation. I’ve tried so many times to recreate Christy’s Goetta Grilled Cheese at home but just can’t. Even the multiple variations I’ve tried at Goettafest don’t come close. You have to try Christy’s heavenly toasted treat at least once.

*Visit Christy’s in the summertime during the day to avoid a crowd and enjoy your Goetta Grilled Cheese with a cold Franziskaner Hefeweizen and a free round of bocceball on their outdoor biergarten. You can also enjoy their wood-slathered rathskeller (basement bar) in the winter.

Better than it looks.

7. Quatman Cafe

One of the most unassuming little joints you’ll ever visit has some the best burgers around. No fancy toppings, just a big slab of onion and thin slices of sweet pickles. Most times I’ve been there they’ve taken money off the bill at checkout for no reason other then they’re nice people. It’s the perfect example of what Midwestern dining should be: no nonsense deliciousness blended with honest-to-goodness hospitality.

*Don’t miss out on Hudepohl Beer on tap with frosty mugs.

Minus the can.

8. Cincinnati’s Surprisingly Good Vinyl Shops

Not one, not two, not three, but four good vinyl shops in Cincinnati. There are a few other small players as well. But be sure to check out Everybody’s Records, Shake-It Records, Moles CD & Record Exchange, and Another Part Of The Forest.

*You can find links to all of these fine vinyl establishments at the bottom of this page.

Mole’s small but succulent front room collection.

9. Oktoberfest Zinzinnati

Munich’s sister city throws one hell of an Oktoberfest with over 1,000,000 visitors each year. Stick to the pork schnitzel and a refillable stein for one killer weekend. Just make sure you’re careful when the Chicken Dance kicks in.

*Sometimes things can get pretty crazy at this rowdy beer festival. Click here to see what I mean.

10. Mother’s Day Steamboat Cruises On The Ohio River

The best way to take your beautiful mom out for a view of Cincinnati’s beautiful skyline is on the Belle of Cincinnati, an honest-to-god pirate steamboat.  The river is nice (as long as you’re not swimming in it) but the best part is the piano-playing dude in a straw boater hat who performs on the Belle. He’ll sing the hokey-pokey while a bunch of drunk middle-aged women shake their goods on a floating dance floor. If you’re lucky, and the weather’s nice, you’ll get to hear this Ragtime Rambler jam on the calliope poised upon the top deck.

*The following video is of the Delta Queen’s calliope in action, not the Belle of Cincinnati , but it’s the same deal.

11. Mainstrasse and Its Many Festivals

I used to live off of Mainstrasse in Covington, KY, which is immediately across the river from Cincinnati and walking distance to Paul Brown Stadium. It’s the perfect place for those who love hoofin’ it to their social rendezvous. There are over 20 bars and restaurants within 5 minutes walking distance and each establishment plays host to a kaleidoscope of folks.

Plus, Mainstrasse is home to a whole slew of festivals throughout the year. This includes Maifest, Oktoberfest, Goettafest, The World’s Longest Garage Sale and also hosts a farmers’ market every Saturday throughout the summer. Good times.

*Check out Village Pub and get their Russian beer special. It’s $3 for a 25 oz. bottle of 9% alcohol beer from St.Petersburg. It’s like a Soviet Four Loko, but tasty.

It’s really long.

12. Bitching About The Bengals

Every year Bengals fans say, “This is going to be the year. Carson’s knee hasn’t rejected the alpaca knee joint transplant. Ochocinco’s cut down his mirror collection from 2,000 to 1,000 units. Anthony Muñoz has a bitchin’ new Furniture Fair commercial.” And every year the Bengals take a dump in our hearts.

Yet, somehow, we always stick with them even though we’ve viciously sworn them off. It’s not because we really think they have a chance of winning a new season. It’s because we love having our dreams crushed. We want the Bengals to be just good enough to muster dreams of the playoffs so they can lose in a hilariously inept fashion.

After all, Cincinnatians are sports masochists by heart.

>>>Click here for some vintage Bengals tunes.

13. Red River Gorge in Daniel Boone National Forest

Combine some of the oldest woods in the world, miles upon miles of challenging trails and rock climbing paths, unique geological structures like rock houses and natural bridges with a hands-off approach to park policing and you get one of the best camping areas in the Eastern United States.

*There are all sorts of hidden campsites in the Gorge. The best are located under the ampitheatre-like rock houses and rock walls. Many have big stone bonfire pits and stone seats where you can relax and investigate the weird cave wildlife overhead. These sites are technically off limits for camping but enforcement is relaxed.

God’s Country. Not the vengeful one.

14. Fall

I’m excited to leave behind the sticky summers and indecisive winters but will definitely miss fall. I love the changing of the leaves, getting pumpkins from the patch and mixing fresh cider with spiced rum. But I think I’ll miss the smell of fall more than anything…the smell of burning foliage emanating from the mysterious woodland house near my parents’ place.

Yes, I’m going to miss that smell. And the smell of gunpowder from that mystery homeowner as he shoots his shotgun into a pile of chopped wood during a whiskey bender.

15. Jack Atherton’s Bedroom Eyes

Bonjour, mon cheri.

>>>Click here download Yo La Tengo’s Fakebook, the album that made these memories possible, at 320 kbps

Tracklist

1 Can’t Forget 2:13
2 Griselda 1:54
Written By – Antonia Apodeca
3 Here Comes My Baby 2:26
Written By – Cat Stevens
4 Barnaby, Hardly Working 4:12
5 Yellow Sarong 1:37
Written By – Scene Is Now, The
6 You Tore Me Down 2:48
Written By – Chris Wilson , Cyril Jordan
7 Emulsified 2:46
Vocals – Pussywillows, The
Written By – Rex Garvin
8 Speeding Motorcycle 3:16
Guitar – Georgia Hubley
Written By – Daniel Johnston
9 Tried So Hard 2:13
Written By – Michael Clarke
10 The Summer 2:40
Bass – Gene Holder
11 Oklahoma, U.S.A. 2:18
Organ – Georgia Hubley
Written By – Ray Davies
12 What Comes Next 3:11
13 The One To Cry 1:47
Double Bass [Fiddle], Vocals – Peter Sampfel
Written By – Escorts, The
14 Andalucia 3:33
Organ – Georgia Hubley
Written By – John Cale
15 Did I Tell You 3:21
16 What Can I Say 2:03
Written By – Joey Spampinato

This album’s spent a lot of time spinning in a smoke-filled room. Not smoke from an unattended panini press. Not smoke from a curling iron left on an Ikea shag rug. Not the smoke Glenn Beck’s blowing up America’s ass.

Nay, it’s the smoke that huffs and puffs from a frog bong. Yes, the frog bong you used begrudgingly as a replacement for the perfectly nice, perfectly non-jumping bong your brothers broke while playing soccer in the apartment. The frog bong you “forgot” to pack in the big move. The frog bong you never got to say goodbye to…until now.

Wow, sweet. A frog. On a bong. Awesome.

Dear Frog Bong,

I never really liked you very much. You were an ugly mess of glass with a stupid frog blown on your side, for crying out loud. You were an exaggerated cliche of marijuana culture that showed up unwelcomed after the tragic loss of a good friend. Your beady little eyes eternally mocked his demise between each and every rip.

Every chillout, every prized stash, every slammin’ party was ruined just a little bit by your presence. Your unnecessary girth was a continual source of shame and coffee table dents. How many times did you ruin a potential friendship with your shitty ambiance? How many times did your deceivingly narrow downstem clog as soon as I flipped on disc two of my UNKLE album? Only endless fingers on endless hands could count the times.

I would have destroyed you if it were possible. However, several attempts to annihilate your faux permeable skin proved fruitless. A drop from the fourth floor balcony onto 33 E. McMillan Street didn’t create so much as a scratch. Letting my crack-dealing neighbor blast your facade repeatedly with his shotgun only deprived the world of a dozen 12-gauge shotgun shells. Multiple attempts murder you using a non-FIFA approved soccer ball in conjunction with a wicked bicycle kick proved folly at best.

And you took it all with an amphibious little smile. “Ribbit, ribbit,” you croaked, “you know you wanna hit it.” You monstrosity, you whore of Babylon. Your bulbous shaft was blown straight from the devil’s mouth…that’s what she said.

Goodbye forever. I hope you have a really tough time being green, you bastard.

xxxxxxx

Don’t cry, friend. That terrible frog bong can never hurt you again. I hope a look-see at this amazing music video for “Rabbit In Your Headlights” (ft. Thom Yorke) will dry those beautiful eyes.

>>>Click here to download Psyence Fiction at 320 kbps

TRACKLIST

1 Guns Blazing (Drums Of Death Part 1) 5:01
Lyrics By, Vocals – Kool G Rap
Music By – DJ Shadow
Recorded By [Vocals] – DJ Shadow , Kevin Scott
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Vocals [Additional] – Lateef The Truth Speaker , Lyrics Born
Written-By – J. Davis* , N. Wilson*
2 UNKLE Main Title Theme 3:24
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Written-By – J. Davis*
3 Bloodstain 5:57
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Performer [Sample] – Be Be K Roche*
Recorded By [Vocals] – James Lavelle , Jim Abbiss
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Vocals, Lyrics By – Alice Temple
Written-By – A. Temple* , J. Davis*
4 Unreal 5:10
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Performer [Sample] – Jules Blattner Group, The
Written-By – J. Davis* , Jules Blattner
5 Lonely Soul 8:56
Arranged By [Strings], Conductor [Strings] – Wil Malone
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Recorded By [Vocals] – Sie Medway-Smith , UNKLE
Strings – London Session Orchestra*
Written-By – J. Davis* , R. Ashcroft* , W. Malone*
6 Getting Ahead In The Lucrative Field Of Artist Management 0:56
Music By [The Entertainer (uncredited)] – Scott Joplin
7.1 Nursery Rhyme 4:45
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Recorded By [Vocals] – Jim Abbiss , UNKLE
Vocals, Lyrics By – Badly Drawn Boy
Written-By – D. Gough* , J. Davis*
7.2 Breather
Vocals [Breaths] – James Lavelle
8 Celestial Annihilation 4:44
Arranged By [Strings], Conductor [Strings] – Wil Malone
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By [Additional] – DJ Shadow
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Strings – London Session Orchestra*
Written-By – J. Davis* , W. Malone*
Written-by [Concerto For Strings And Beats] – Wil Malone
9 The Knock (Drums Of Death Part 2) 3:58
Bass, Theremin – Jason Newstead*
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Vocals, Lyrics By – Mike D
Written-By – J. Davis* , M. Diamond*
10 Chaos 4:42
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – Atlantique (2)
Producer [Additional] – DJ Shadow
Vocals, Lyrics By – Atlantique (2)
Written-By – A. Khan*
11 Rabbit In Your Headlights 6:20
Bass, Synthesizer – Thom Yorke
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Recorded By [Vocals] – Kevin Scott , UNKLE
Vocals, Lyrics By – Thom Yorke
Written-By – J. Davis* , T. Yorke*