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Tag Archives: Electronic

This one goes out to RyGuy.

Your bodily functions will forever live on in our hearts.

Even the stinky ones.

Stinkyheart Memories.

Gross.

RIP buddy, see you at the big bagel in the sky.

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Click here to download Bodily Function in MP3 converted from vinyl LPs

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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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There’s a big bucket of everything going on in this record. Carlos uses up to 48 “Dolbyized” tracks (including electronic/quasi-classical/ambient music composed and performed by Carlos along with environmental recordings including surf, birds, frogs, lightning, wind, rain, and anything else Mother Nature can cook up) at any given point in this monstrous psychoacoustic experiment. The whole effect simultaneously soothes and challenges the old noggin’ in the most curious way.

Here’s a simple way to describe it. Take one of Walter Carlos’ traditional early-electronic Moog pieces and mix it with one or two discs from the Environments series. Make sure they’re smooshed together nicely then board ‘em on Willy Wonka’s Psychedelic Boat Trip.

Only attempt in the company of a responsible adult. Or a frog bong.

Sonic Seasonings is a Double LP with four different “songs”, which are as follows:

Side 1: Spring (22:09 Minutes)

Side 2: Summer (21:31 Minutes)

Side 3: Fall (20:56 Minutes)

Side 4: Winter (20:31 Minutes)

Click here to download Sonic Seasonings from vinyl at 320 kbps

I tierd wtrinig smoe tpye of ting auobt tihs alubm but culodn’t baucese teh dance gto a thgit girp on ym ass.

Movies featuring songs from this album:

Pretty In Pink

Trainspotting

American Psycho

Married To The Mob

Hot Tub Time Machine

Salvation!

24 Hour Party People

Something Wild

Blade

Bright Lights, Big City

The Beach

D.E.B.S.

Marie Antoinette

Splendor

Désordre

The Wedding Singer

Threesome

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Click here to download Substance 1987 ripped from vinyl to 320 MP3

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Tracklist

A1 Ceremony 4:22
Producer – Martin Hannett
Written-By – Joy Division
A2 Everything’s Gone Green 5:30
Producer – Martin Hannett
A3 Temptation 6:58
Engineer – Michael Johnson
B1 Blue Monday 8:12
B2 Confusion 4:41
Engineer – Michael Johnson
Written-By – Arthur Baker
B3 Thieves Like Us 6:36
Written-By – Arthur Baker
C1 The Perfect Kiss 8:46
Producer – Michael Johnson
C2 Subculture 4:47
Remix – John Robie
C3 Shellshock 6:27
Written-By – John Robie
D1 State Of The Nation 6:31
D2 Bizarre Love Triangle 6:41
Remix – Shep Pettibone
D3 True Faith 5:53
Producer – Stephen Hague
Written-By – Stephen Hague

*download near the bottom*

This is the third Tomita posting on this website, so I think it’s safe to say that I’m a big fan of his work. His primitive analog exudes a very primal aura. It’s as if he’s torturing circuits to get the sound he wants. Not run of the mill circuits, mind you, that harvest AC and DC in the fields for a living. No, he’s kidnapped gifted mezzo-soprano diodes from belly of a Sansui G-33000 Monster Receiver to whip and waterboard into fulfilling his deviant intent.

Alistair Tibbins: Tomita’s Circuit Slave Trader

But as much as I love Tomita’s music it could be said that his album artwork rivals the songs in artistic merit. Take a good long look at the album cover above. True beauty and honesty: man flesh peeling away to expose robot thoughts and emotion. I think this may be the first time that the anatomy of a Japanese was accurately diagrammed. Until 1979 the scientific community was under the assumption that Japanese people were composed of warm flesh from surface to core. Tomita must have felt it was his duty to bring the truth to light and shed the shame of centuries past. What a burden it must have been for Isao Tomita to expose his magnesium manbits, and in effect the wiry privates of all Japanese citizens, to the entire world and end cyborg discrimination.

Almost as much as a burden as trying to understand why someone would set Tomita’s “Star Wars Theme” to photographs of Tubby comic book covers.

So, take your mind off of the bulbous animations of Tubby with a collection of album covers help compose Greatest Hits (with a few others as well).

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Click here to download the Tomita’s Greatest Hits

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Here’s two other Tomita albums for download on Rebuilt Tranny Records:

Pictures At An Exhibition

The Tomita Planets

Bonus Vids:

Tracklist

A1 “Star Wars” Main Title 3:04
A2 Clair De Lune (Suite Bergamasque, No. 3) 5:48
A3 Close Encounters Of The Third Kind 2:21
A4 Golliwog’s Cakewalk (Children’s Corner, No. 6) 2:50
A5 The Planets: Mars, The Bringer Of War 7:44
B1 Space Fantasy 1:58
B2 Hora Staccato 3:29
B3 Symphony No. 5: 2nd Movement (Allegro Marcato) 5:14
B4 Firebird Suite: Infernal Dance Of King Kastchei 4:08
B5 Pictures At An Exhibition: Great Gate Of Kiev 6:14

I have to admit that I was disappointed with Daft Punk’s last LP, Human After All. I know that Discovery was a really, really tough act to follow but I was still hopeful they’d fill my dreams with 4 more years of hentai fantasies. And maybe this sounds like a gripe that’s too little, way too late. So sue me, again, and this time you’ll end up owing me money. Don’t blame me, blame our broken judicial system.

Samples were the Shayne Graham of the last album. Now, let me stop everything right here. I don’t want you thinking that I’m against samples, because I’m not. If I may say so: au contraire, mon frère (Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo and Thomas Bangalter would probably say that because they’re French!)

I’m all about samples. Daft Punk just dropped the baton, leaving the funk for Justice to grab with a clear line to the Slush Puppie vendor. But I’m still bummed that Guy and Thomas just dropped Le Groove. It’s not that the samples were bad. They were actually pretty good picks. But they didn’t do anything with them. It’s like a chef allocating the perfect lamb chop from a butcher and then placing that big, bloody, uncooked slab of wooly bully on your plate and saying, “Dig In.” You gotta prep, sucka!

Just take a listen to the next to two songs here. If you have the time give Robot Rock a good, full listen. Experience its repetitive beats with little variation.

Now take a listen to “Release the Beast” by Breakwater from 1980.

Notice any….similarities?

It’s basically the same damn song, although Breakwater’s original is a better musical representation of a Mylar glove, filled with testosterone, stuffed inside of a black velvet glove, slapping a Detroit traffic cop.

LUCKILY Daft punk released 12″ remixes of the songs from this album. In my not-so-humble opinion I feel that one of these Robot Rock remixes, especially the Soulwax Remix, should have taken the original LP spot. Soulwax took the original sample and made it something truly unique instead of just adding “ROCK, ROBOT ROCK. ROCK, ROBOT ROCK” over and over. It’s something clever, something catchy, something you’d hope to meet in a metallic bikini on a spring morning along the Uruguayan coast. Just take a listen-see to the next vid and download the damn thing.

>>>CLICK AND DOWNLOAD THE BEST VERSIONS

***Warimashi! You can also find Holst’s original classical version of The Planets, conducted by Sir Adrian Boult, by clicking here!

Does anyone want to visit outer space anymore? I doubt that anyone could find any allure in sporting a big, airtight body-diaper and leaving the comfy oxygen bubble surrounding Earth. I’m pretty sure that you wouldn’t get any 3G coverage up there. So, you couldn’t even bitch to your friends on Facebook about how totally boring the endless panaroma of our planet, viewed from a freely-floating spacesuit, can really be. Plus, your umbilical cord to the space shuttle totally wouldn’t match your moonboots. Um, so lame.

But I remember, not too long ago in the great scheme, when things were much different. Back in my day, when kids ate coal and shit diamonds, we had this little show called Double Dare. Kids would risk life and limb climbing through metric tons of fake earwax and green gooble-dee-goop to capture little red flags. It was tough work, by George, and many kids lost limbs, important limbs, wading through that synthetic muck. Also, Mark Summers was there but he wasn’t unwrapping the mystery of how Nutter-Butters are made…instead he was turning boys’ nuts into butter on the obstacle course.

So, why oh why did these kids take such sticky risks for such tiny red flags? Two words: SPACE CAMP.

This child abuse was outlawed after Congress passed the Summers Bill in ’89.

That girl at the beginning is having a BLAST in that awkward astroscope. Bad touch, bad touch!

Back in the 80′s, when it wasn’t exploding, the space shuttle was rocking back and forth from the USA to OUTER SPACE. Up and down and round and round it went. Back then we felt the whole thing was just some horribly dangerous and vulgarly expensive workout session for the real deal: Outer Outer Space. You know, past the moon, which we (the good guys) first visited in 1969. It was universally assumed that, sooner or later, Admiral Reagan would tell the boys, “That’s good enough. You’ve trained like true Americans. Now, I want you to aim that big ol’ stick right at Mars and bring back a damn Alien for the Gipper. So let it be written, so let it be done.”

But, somehow, the nation got distracted by all sorts of things…the end of the Cold War, MTV, Tony Danza, Sega Genesis, Melrose Place…beautiful beasts that seeped into our televisions and stole air time from NASA and their team of gee whizzers. And before you knew it we had even more cable channels and we didn’t have to watch the same old boring news clips of that Interatmospheric Baluga’s migration patterns anymore. Soon, no one gave a damn about what bizarre insect mating rituals NASA’s astronauts observed in zero gravity. We were all too busy letting Hollywood give us a tutorial on 21st century virtual reality bonin’.

Eventually, space was out. What’s the point of strapping yourself onto a guided bomb and risking your life when you can experience the same deal at home on your PS3? I mean, subwoofers have gotten pretty good…you can almost feel the second-stage rocket boosters right on your Gucci. And, after all, real space is pretty boring. There aren’t any aliens with plasma rifles. There aren’t any richly detailed story plots with 60+ hours of play time. There aren’t any bulbous spacelady boobs. Well, not that we know of. At least I don’t know about them. If you know of any space boobs, please, Motorola two-way page me.

We have lift off.

Space is just a sad, broken old man on the corner of McMillan and Vine. Someone told you that he used to be the head train conductor for the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad when it ran out of Union Terminal. That may be true, but all you know is that he smells like piss and Wild Irish Rose. And pistachios…is it pistachios? No, I think it’s pecans.

Let’s take a trip back for second to when this man had his suit pressed on a weekly basis. Back to when you could set your watch to the crease in his crotch. Back to when the God damn whole world was pulled behind a magnificent silver train, hell bent on reaching the world of tomorrow not a minute too late.

………And when Japanese space electronica was way in.

>>>Click here to download The Tomita Planets at 320 kbps

The videos don’t really do the sound justice but the concept is really cool. I’d like to get my hands on this VHS some day. Just because.

The album cover was altered to say Wendy after Carlos underwent sex reassignment surgery. Note that cartoon Carlos is still male.

Click here for a random Rebuilt Tranny post!

There are a lot of tasty fun facts about Walter Carlos. First off, he was the she that composed the Clockwork Orange soundtrack. The second is that Walter, later Wendy, is the only Father and Mother of Electronic Music. However, the most mysterious tid bit that stuck out in the hard-hitting Wikipedia article about Carlos was two curious words: Faraday Cage.

Scientific pursuits for the benefit of mankind.

A Faraday Cage is a special room that’s typically used to protect electronic devices such as industrial computer equipment from outside sources of electronic interence like lightning strikes or power surges. The Faraday Cage comes in handy for NASA when maintaining Tom Hanks’ neuronet processor during his bi-annual checkup. And, as the previous photo illustrates, it’s critical for protecting fedora-donning dumb dumbs from homemade tesla coils.

As any audiophile will tell you, the foundation of solid sound is clean electricity. Improper grounding and interference from appliances sucking your Jiggawatts can really throw a monkeybone into gears of the best-planned stereo system.

One of my apartments in Clifton during my college days had ungrounded outlets. This really played havoc on my home theater’s subwoofer by causing the most terrible buzzthumping. The only remedy was continually lassoing the connective cable around my apartment until it meshed with the friendly electromagnetic frequency of the day. Or something like that.

Getty Images just spit in your mom’s hair. Pictured is Walter pre-op.

On her website Carlos’ explains how her NYC neighbor’s mood lighting would mess with her home studio recordings:

Oh, yes, those are the remote controls for the various tape machines that you see on the far left, and just above, on the meter housing for the console, is a pair of Phase Linear Autocorrelators. These were a pretty decent single ended noise reduction devices that we had to use during the late 70′s due to power buzzes that came from the light dimmers in the brownstone next door (not amusing). I’d nearly forgotten about that nightmare, since (as I just mentioned) the console is now immune to such things, and the new studio, in being a genuine Faraday Cage (conductive walls, ceiling and floor, tied to common ground) is truly free from essentially all external signal

Carlos’ Frankensteinian Sound Cruncher

Just imagine Wendy flipping her shit as she went through countless wires trying to figure out which one was the harbinger of the dreaded analog buzz. However, she couldn’t freak out too hard because violent convulsions might, ahem, rip out the stiches that kept her womanhood roaring.

So basically Carlos was and is a mad scientist. She still toils her hours away by torturing electronic equipment into screaming the desired tone in her gigantic, eletronically-inert box. But we shouldn’t fear her for, as you will see after listening to By Request, the ends justify the end. And that’s always what’s most important…right?

Wendy Carlos: The Original Rebuilt Tranny

Click here to download By Request at 320 kbps

Tracklist

A1 Three Dances From “Nutcracker Suite” 5:20
A2 Dialogues For Piano And 2 Loudspeakers 4:00
A3 Episodes For Piano And Electronic Sound 5:50
A4 Geodesic Dance (Electronic Etude) 3:21
A5 Brandenburg Concerto No. 2 In F Major 5:50
B1 “Little” Fugue In G Minor 3:44
B2 What’s New, Pussycat? 2:05
B3 Eleanor Rigby 2:06
B4 Wedding March 1:12
B5 Pompous Circumstances 12:00

With the new cooling fan finally installed on my Gibson it’s time to get back into things with an 8-bit uppercut to the nuts. This is one of the most prized black biscuits in my collection. It arrived mysteriously one day as an apology for a late-sent album I won on eBay. At first I had no idea what it was…no markings of any kind on the album sleeve or the disc itself, except for the Headbanger rocking triumphantly in the cover’s upper right corner.

So, I put the disc on and almost instantly it blew the top off of my head. All the kilobytes, nay, megabytes of Nintendo strategy blasted through my domepiece in a volcano of flashing blue/red screens and turbo firepower.

CONTRA DESTROYER

Doctors were able to locate all but a 4 square inch chunk missing from the tippy top . It’s totally worth it…I just can’t play full contact sports and my friends still call me Poached Egg Baby.

If you’ve never heard this album, or even if this 12″ holds a tender position on your iPod, you must get this rip. I took extra liberty with boosting the BASS when I ripped it to MP3. God, it’s so good.

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD GAMEBOY VARIATIONS AT 320 kBPS

1 Bad Cartridge (E-Pro Remix) 2:54
  Remix – Paza (The X-Dump)*
2 Bit Rate Variations In B-Flat (Girl Remix) 2:44
  Remix – Paza (The X-Dump)*
3 Gameboy/Homeboy (Qué Onda Guero Remix) 2:37
  Remix – 8 Bit*
4 Ghettochip Malfunction (Hell Yes Remix) 2:41
  Remix – 8 Bit*

** Supplementary: Were any of you that little shit who had a Gameboy in elementary school? Maybe you went to Shawnee Elementary? Yeah, you brought your big ass, Nintendo-approved portable GameBoy vault that had a whole slew of games and extra batteries AND headphones. You displayed that personal gaming temple prominently at the berth of your cubby… just so everyone could look but not touch. At lunch you made everyone take turns being your best friend–”Check out this sweet Lightboy attachment,” you said. “The lurid claws of night are of no consequence for my Gameboy and me,” you said.

Yeah, so you let me borrow it. And I had a ball using that Lightboy as I sat playing Tetris on a box of Utah riverbed fossils in the dark seclusion of my bedroom closet. But it didn’t last. You eventually made me give that GameBoy back; despite the repeated trade offerings of my baby brubba. How could you be so cruel?

*download album below*

Ok, so this is the most important piece music of the 20th century. Yes, you read that correctly. In 1982 L. Ron Hubbard introduced Space Jazz, the first ever soundtrack to a book (not just any book…Battlefield Earth!!!) and forever altered the creative path of human history. Many historians credit this album with slaying the incredible high-hat breathing Disco Dragon. Others blame it for laying the Yoshi egg that hatched Lady Gaga. However, there’s much more to this story than hilarious musings…

Exhibit A!

(from the album gatefold)

SPACE JAZZ is a completely new musical sound destined to be hailed as the music of the future. The many and varied forms of music are an integral part of the cultural heritage of Earth.

Now, the sound of the future has been established by L. RON HUBBARD, author of the blockbuster science fiction novel Battlefield Earth.

The concept of a soundtrack is something one normally associates with motion pictures. Now for the first time ever–a soundtrack for a book–Battlefield Earth–”Space Jazz.” Think of the “Star Wars” Sagas, and “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” mix in the triumph of “Rocky I,” “Rocky II” and Rocky III” and you have captured the exuberance, style and glory of “Battlefield Earth”–The Evening Sun, Baltimore MD.

Consider the magnitude of the challenge Hubbard set himself. Conventional musical instruments and even huge symphony orchestras have their limitations. He turned to the technology of the future–computers.

Recent breakthroughs in computer musical instruments offered the needed versatility to match his new musical concepts.

Today, a computer is able to reproduce any natural sound. It can record a single note of a musical instrument and from that reproduce the rest of the instrument.

But better yet, it can take any sound and turn this into a rhythm. A coyote can sing the blues. A horse can tap dance. Liquid can splash out a Strauss waltz. Laser beams can hum a lullaby. You name it and you can get it

Yes, L. Ron Hubbard took the most technologically advanced musical instrument of the time, the Fairlight Computer Musical Instrument, and used it to recreate the sonic feast of a horse tapdancing! Thank your stars L. Ron Hubbard was one of the first people to get his hands on the $25,000 Fairlight CMI and thus create this epic masterpiece. What follows is just a small sampling of L. Ron Hubbards musical pioneering.

Exhibit B!

Be sure to carefully absorb the rich tonal haunches in this track. The playful neighs of the heroic horse Windsplitter, created through the Fairlight CMI’s digital processor, stir feelings of hope within the listener that, yes, man, beast and machine can coexist peacefully in a world free of Psychlos.

Exhibit C!

 

L. Ron Hubbard used his Hubbard Electrometer to test if tomatoes felt emotional pain. Seriously, check out this UK Telegraph article.

Ok, so I took a long time to trying to figure out exactly what this album was all about. I looked for hidden answers about Scientology in the ridiculous anti-stereo narration. I then looked for some sort of psychic pattern in the horribly repetitive and shrill synthesized filler “music”. Finally, I sought solace in the suspiciously mundane track titles:

1. Golden Era of Sci Fi

2. Funeral For A Planet

3. March of The Psychlos

4. Teri, The Security Director

5. Jonnie

6. Windsplitter

7. The Mining Song

8. The Drone

9. Mankind Unites

10. Alien Visitors Attack

11. The Banker

12. Declaration of Peace

13. Earth, My Beautiful Home

But I didn’t experience even a single mysterious revelation from on high.

So I listened again. And again. And again. And upon my umpteenth listen, just as Space Jazz began evoke memories of my endless hours spent playing Oregon Trail 2, the answer blasted itself all over my face: L. Ron Hubbard was the greatest practical joker of all time.

His absurdly bogus biography, his hackneyed bibliography, his intensely whacko yet ridiculously profitable Scientology cult had all been part of the greatest monkeyshine ever unleashed on mankind. The man was a hybrid of Andy Kaufman’s unflinching, rabble-rousing comedy with  Joseph Smith’s pied-piper espièglerie–now that’s saying something.

The aural assault Space Jazz makes complete sense when you view L. Ron’s life in that light. You could even say this composition was the punchline to a lifetime of pocket-emptying tomfoolery.

So, Xenu bless you, L. Ron Hubbard…you hilarious fucking bastard.

Click to download SPACE JAZZ to the futuristic 320 kbps

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