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Tag Archives: Experimental

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 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

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

*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

There isn’t much I know about King Of Woolworths. There isn’t even a Wikipedia entry for the group. The little I’ve found out about project has been through sites run by fans around the globe. I only know that I LOVE this album.

It was only by a chance that I ever even heard about them in the first place. During the summer of 2002 the radio station WOXY, in Oxford, OH at the time, starting playing this curious little track called “To The Devil A Donut.” It started off in slow rotation but eventually made it into heavy play for a few solid months. I’m not sure the DJs even knew much about it…they just liked it so they put it on the radio.

It’s a pretty creepy track with bits from an old horror movie entitled “To The Devil A Daughter”. On the face there are very obvious reasons why it’s got a case of the creep. It uses snippets of dialogue about baptizing a baby in the blood of her dead mother, bringing that babe up in seclusion as the devil,  and then pumping her full of morphine. You know, the usual.

But it’s not really what’s on the face that makes it creep hypnotique, verging on a dream. With every song on this album I envision myself lying on the ground, staring face up at a different situation. The beat, the strange use of strange 70′s British synth, and the vaporous ambient cloud swallows you up and spits you out on another locale at each track’s start

With “To The Devil A Daughter” I envision myself sprawled out in a cold cellar of an ancient English country manor. It’s so old, in fact, that the floor is composed of soft, damp earth instead of hard cement. The walls are large stone without caulk. The ceiling is comprised of old oak beams, covered in spider webs. The room is lit by the soft but terrifying flicker of torch light. Hooded shadows work their way in and out of the ominous glow, always threatening but never pouncing. The suspense is terrible but just as it comes to a climax the track changes and I’m transported elsewhere.

In “Theydon” I’m lying on the beach somewhere on the coast of the North Sea. I don’t know how I got there and I don’t know why I’m wet and I don’t know why I’m wearing a blue and white fleece because I don’t ever wear fleece but I don’t care. I don’t care because beautiful music floats over my drenched body and connects me with the little pebbles covering my jeans. I say hello to the passing gulls. The sun rises and I worry temporarily that it will melt my bones, but the fear quickly passes and I’m at peace. Everything’s OK.

The album takes turns tossing you psychologically from dark to light, harm to safety. It’s like a continually operating wooden rollercoaster in an abandoned park that you keep riding over and over and over. You always think it’s gonna jump the tracks and fling you into a bloody underbrush demise. But it doesn’t, it keeps on round and round in a beautiful and terrifying loop.

I think Mr. King Of Woolworths himself, Jon Brooks, puts it best: “Everything’s fine, but there is something not quite right about it.”

>>>Click here to download Ming Star

Tracklist

1 Kentish Town 5:33
2 Bakerloo (Main Titles) 6:19
3 Where Fleas Hide 1:58
4 Stalker Song 4:44
5 Colcannon 5:14
6 To The Devil A Donut 6:02
7 Kite Hill 5:30
8 The Watchmaker’s Hands 7:11
9 Theydon 6:49
10 Bakerloo (End Credits) 4:40

Note the most awkward album signing of the 21st century.

I went to see Themselves at the Southgate House in the winter of 2003 with my brother. At the time I had this little Canon digital camera that took its sweet old time capturing precious moments. So, it could take anywhere from 5 to 10 seconds from the time photographer pressed the clicker to when the shutter snapped.

Anyway, I went up to the merch booth after the show with my brother and struck up a conversation with Dose One. We discussed the show and how I worked with a guy that used to tour with him back in the day. While I was trying to help him remember how he used to rap with a guy I washed Porsches with, a guy named Zebediah, I got the brilliant idea that I should get my freshly purchased albums signed.

I asked Dose if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, to which he replied “hell naw” while whipping out black and silver markers. He signed The No Music original LP with a little black Sharpie drawing on the front. It was really quite adorable. For The Remixes he pulled out the sparkle silver job. I thought, “Yo Boy, you better get this histowic moment on record or your crew will NOT believe it. Word is bond!”

I handed Junior the janky little digi, struck the thumbs-up pose and copped a triumphant smile. Dose did his best to look excited and we froze the pose. And then everything hit slow mo. We both could see the little infrared autofocus light on the front blinking, so we just sat there waiting for the flash. And waited. And waited. I had totally forgotten about the totally unreliable snap. It was the longest 10 seconds of my life.

Suddently, Dose One grabbed my erect thumb and shook it. He grabbed that little dude and went down to Funky Town. What you see in the picture is the immediate aftermath of that member molestation. This wiggle ushered in a total loss of cool…and the moment I decided I’d never get an autograph ever again.

Click here to download The No Music at 320 kbps

Tracklist

A1 Terror Fabulous 4:03
The No Music Of Hospitals.
A2 Hat Set For Butler 2:42
  Remix [Demix] – Themselves
A3 Mouthful 4:12
  Keyboards, Bass, Guitar – Jerome Opena
Remix – Controller 7 , Matth
B1 Good People Check 5:03
  Remix – Hrvatski
B2 Poison Pit 3:15
  Remix – Why?
B3 Livetrap 2:51
  Remix – Hood
The No Music Of Mother’s Milk And Going Deaf.
C1 Only Child Explosion 2:56
  Remix – Alias (3)
C2 Dr.Moonorgun Please 3:20
  Remix – Grapedope*
C3 Darkskydemo 4:18
  Remix – Fog
D1 You Devil You 4:26
  Remix – Odd Nosdam
D2 Out In The Open 5:35
  Remix – Notwist, The
D3 Hat In The Wind 7:13
  Remix – Electric Birds

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

*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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I wish I had a personal tailor so that he could make me a double-breasted suit coat with the pattern from this album sleeve. The suit coat would also have 3/4 sleeves and big, I mean freakin’ huge, shoulders and probably some gold buttons…maybe even with anchors on them. Then I’d go to the salon and purchase all of the Paul Mitchell hair products they had from this chick:

Then I’d hop into my all white 1985 Mercedes 500SL with the AMG Package:

Finally I’d pop the Pet Shop Boys into my Dolby Noise Reduction-enabled Becker Grand Prix tape deck:

And listen to the West End Girls Dance Mix as I cruised down a palm tree-lined boulevard:

And with that my 80′s summer day fantasy would be complete.

Click to Download West End Girls 12″ to MP3

*vinyl download below*

If you take a look behind Mr. Triangular Turban, the one right there leaking digital flesh, you’ll notice the background resembles a Magic Eye poster. You remember, Magic Eye, the artwork you saw at mall kiosks during the 90′s. The first time you saw those curious technicolored splatters you didn’t really know what to make of them. The Kiosk Master sensed your bewilderment and explained, “Um they’re a hidden 3D picture, kind of. You sort of have to look through them or past them…or something. I think that one’s a dolphin jumping over a desert island. I think.” So you tried to stare through them. You also crossed your eyes, wiggled them, gouged them repeatedly because of your inability to see the hidden dolphin and his high-flying acrobatics.

Pleasures of the deep.

Then, just as you were about to kick the Kiosk Master in the nuts, the sea mammal and his sick air came into view. Oh, the beauty you beheld. Yes, it was just the outline of the dolphin and it wasn’t really the actual color of a dolphin and it gave you a terrible headache but it was AWESOME. It was like stepping into a whole ‘nother dimension where simply-shaped environments prevail  and taste accounts for nothing: A dimension called The Tri-County Mall Foodcourt. With this freeing feeling about your person you confidently worked down the gallery lineup. Pyramids at Giza, Statue of Liberty, Bald Eagle over Star-Spangled Banner, Confused Pug Puppy in Easter basket….each one outdoing its predecessor. It left you with terrifying anticipation. You thought, “If we’re making Magic Eyes now in ’93 there’s no telling what 3D beast we will unleash come 2k.”

Pleasures of the deepest.

… Well, 2000 only brought retinal tears and activated gag reflexes within the stereogram universe. Sorry.

*Side Note: This album is what would happen if The Moody Blues found themselves trapped in a Magic Eye poster. The scene would unfold as follows:

Narwhals, under the influence of Four Loko, would serve as the band’s transportation through a green-lightning sea. While navigating through a particularly spooky coral reef the fellows attempt to play “Tuesday Afternoon” to lift their spirits. However, just at that moment, the narwhals take a sharp dip into a grove of seafloor vents spewing Old Grand Dad Bourbon. “Tuesday Afternoon” Green-Ranger-morphs instantaneously into “Ambling Alp”.

The rest is history.

>>Click to download ODD BLOOD<<<<Get it while it’s hot.

Tracklist

A1 The Children
A2 Ambling Alp
A3 Madder Red
A4 I Remember
A5 O.N.E.
B1 Love Me Girl
B2 Rome
B3 Strange Reunions
B4 Mondegreen
B5 Grizelda