I’m proud to present to you a handful of high quality tracks from Fidel Catastrophe’s upcoming debut album: And The Bleak Shall Inherit The Earth.
The Cincinnati outfit uses this highly synthesized jackhammer to pound the listener through frontman Karl Spaeth’s ear canal and straight into his medulla oblongata. Inside his slimy labyrinth you’ll find yourself rubbing shoulders with judgmental dead relatives, dodging tractor trailers on Ohio’s medieval highway system and possibly witnessing a terribly graphic cry job.
I’ve heard a whole boatload of versions on the journey toward this completed album over the past year or so. Tracks chopped, diced, indian-burned…. tracks introducing the disturbingly maternal background vocals of Sophia Cunningham (JK SoCu)….tracks that abandoned instruments and vocals in favor of the primal sounds of a cat in heat locked inside a dishwasher. While I must say I am disappointed with the omission of the moist mew mew I am pickled pink with the final outcome.
However, there’s one final hurdle to making this vinyl a reality. Take a good listen to the three songs posted here and see if they’re to your liking. If so, make your way on over to Fidel Catastrophe’s Kickstarter website. There you will be given the option to make a contribution toward getting the disc pressed. $15 bucks will get you a copy of the actual vinyl AND a CD with demos that went into the writing and recording of the album. Contribute more and, well, you’ll get even more goodies. Just check out the link for details.
If you take a listen and don’t dig what you hear, well…you’re heading down a dangerous path. Also, stop being such a knob.
This is the album that shepherded me into the rolling knolls of Vinyl Hunters Valley. This is because it causes the most mysterious synaptic firings within my squishy grey matter. Makes my temples swell with a pleasing uneasiness. Causes mysterious pockets within my loins to quake and flutter.
It's my HEAD, Schwartz, it's MY HEAD!
OK, so basically I have no idea what it does to me but I’m certain it transmits some sort of ultrasonic frequency that says, “GO ON EBAY AND BUY A TURNTABLE RIGHT NOW. NOT LATER, NOW. TURN OFF COPS, YOU’VE SEEN THIS EPISODE, GUY, BUY ONE NOW.” So I did and never looked back.
Despite the fact that I love, love, love this album I’ve been avoiding reviewing it here because it’s difficult to capture the essence with letters. Most stereoponies love to saddle the “Trip Hop” label onto this album but that does it no justice whatsoever. That term conjures the visions of hippies listening to hip hop, smoking a big J and spouting, “whoa man this rap groove is, like, so trippy. It’s totally gnarring my buzz, man.” While this album will most likely multiply and sassify marijuana-induced intoxication it’s so unfair to tie it to pot culture. Endtroducing would never, EVER get caught dead in patchwork corduroy pants.
Our youth are under attack.
Other bucking vinylbroncos like to describe the album by mentioning Endtroducing’s ingredients: hip hop, jazz, psychedelia, movie dialogue, television show trialogue, percussion samples etc. However none of these phonocowboys can ever really capture this wild one. True, you get a flavor of each along the winding train ride through British Columbia that is Endtroducing but it’s so much more than bits and pieces. It’s like describing your favorite pizza to a friend and saying, “Yeah man I had this awesome food today it was, like, a bit of tomato, flour, a touch of salt and some, like, I think cheese.” Those ingredients are all fine and good but separately they wouldn’t do an Adriatico’s Bearcat Pizza justice just like calling this album a fusion of genres is a crime. The sum is much greater than the parts.
I think, maybe, this album is like watching the most beautiful little bubble you ever saw. You can watch it dance on the wings of an invisible wind but as soon as you try to capture the damn thing in your hands it’s gone. You’ve taken your dirty little paws and ruined such a magical, delicate thing. You should be ashamed of yourself. We were all having such a wonderful time watching that little orb. Next time chill out, stop trying to bottle it up and just behold its angelic splendor while the gettin’s good.
"From listening to records I just knew what to do...mainly I taught myself. And you know I did pretty well...there were a few mistakes that I have just recently cleared up. I'd just like to continue to be able to express myself as best as I can. I feel like I have a lot of work to do still. I'm a student of the drums and I'm also a teacher of the drums too. And I would like to be able to continue to let what is inside of me, which comes from all of the music that I hear, I'd like for that to come out, and it's like it's not really me...the music's coming through me."
What’s truly incredible about Endtroducing is how it was composed. You have to remember that this was created in 1996 and if anyone even had a laptop it could maybe hold a gigabyte of files, if you were lucky and rich. In addition, music manipulation software like AudioMulch or Adobe Audition hadn’t been invented yet. So, Shadow had to use an Akai MPC-60 music sampler/beat machine to cut, splice, and melt his tracks together. If you then take into consideration exactly how much trial and error of listening to thousands of big vinyl discs it took to find the necessary sounds for the album it becomes evident that either a miracle was performed in the making of Endtroducing or Shadow’s some sort of DJ genius. I prefer to believe the latter, especially after taking watching the following video.
So if you haven’t heard this album, regardless of what music you’re into, you need to get in the boat and get your float on. If you’re a fan you can always use a higher quality rip. And, if you really want to get deep, pick up the vinyl and take a voyage into the continental divide…of your mind!!!!
This past Saturday I went to the RJD2 show at Southgate House in Newport, KY. It’s my favorite venue for a number of reasons: it’s a big converted creepy mansion reminiscent of The Munster’s crib, it usually has three shows playing at a time on various levels and it has the best quality sound system within a 100 mile radius. Also, by sheer coincidence they were playing Ray Charles on the patio’s PA system the night he passed so it will always hold a special place in my heart.
Anyway between sets filled with nose-tickling bass the title track from Blackalicious’ Blazing Arrow came on over the PA in the ballroom. Instantly it took me back to 2002 when I was heavy into the underground hip hop scene. Back when I was gobbling up anything coming out of Anticon Records, attending Scribble Jam in the summers and wearing Puma knit caps. I think it went hand in hand with attempting to become one with the decrepit urban landscape of Cincinnati. Wanting to become grittier…more legit if you will.
Over time I strayed from the heart of the hip hop scene. For a long time I thought that I was just growing up but on Saturday night, standing there in the middle of the ballroom of Southgate House amidst the odd mix of hipsters, hippies and oafish frat dudes, I began to reassess my hip hop position throughout the bubbling jaunt that is “Blazing Arrow.” Had I been wrong about hiding this double LP away in the bottom of my crates?
Well, after cleaning off the layers of resin that had accumulated on these discs from my days non-stop bong ripping, I took a listen and can tell you that I was so very wrong for letting this vinyl fester. This is one of the most completely balanced albums that I own. Usually with hip hop from earlier in the decade you get one mood. With Jurassic Five you got fun old school lyrically-driven hip hop. With Talib Kweli you got the real deep shit that made you contemplate the direction of your soul. Sage Francis just creeped you out, like being inside a musty old sleeping bag as a stranger tickles you from within the darkness. Each artist chose to go their own way and we were ok with that.
But with Blazing Arrow you got a little bit of everything. And surprisingly all corners of their musically mansion were tastefully adorned…exquisitely even. There’s never a point in this album where you don’t believe the artist’s ability to work this or that particular flow. It also helps that Blackalicious collaborates with Chali 2NA, Lateef The Truth Speaker, Chief Xcel, DJ Shadow, Hi-Tek, Ben Harper, Cut Chemist, DJ Babu, Zack de La Rocha, Saul Williams, Lyrics Born and plenty of others on this disc.
As I stated before the title track is just a poppin’ and skippin’ number that you can’t help to bob your head to. If you listen to it and your head ain’t moving, and your head ain’t in traction, then you’ve got serious groove problems. Then you go to tracks like “Chemical Calisthenics” where the word conveyor belt goes haywire at the lyric plant and verbs, adjectives, solubles, and isotopes flood the boiler room. On side 4 Blackalicious takes you real, real deep down into your subconscious with the psyche-shattering “Release Part 1, 2, & 3″.
It skips all of the touristy section of the city and hits up the hottest club, the holiest mosque and the dirtiest whore house. It takes you everywhere you need to go to become a true citizen of the Hip Hop Nation, even if aren’t comfortable with your new surroundings at first. Don’t worry, you’ll eventually settle right in.
It makes me sad that I neglected this masterpiece for such a long time. Luckily my ears are still working and I can make up for the lost time. Just don’t make the same mistake I did.
Kris Kross is one of the greatest gimmick groups of all time. Better than Insane Clown Posse, better than The Aquabats, better than The Monkees even. Kris Kross, those loveable puppets of Jermaine Durpi, didn’t have to be creative with their gimmick. They just turned their clothes around. That’s it. Clothes turned around. Poof, famous.
I remember when kids would turn their pants around in 3rd grade after recess and pretend they were the super duo. It seemed so cool at the time but thinking back it was nearly impossible to walk and the zipper was on your butt. Yes think about that…the zipper was over your butt. What was Jermaine Dupri trying to tell us regarding his wunderkinds? I think the following picture sums it up nicely.
Black Dracula: So boyz, ya’ll mean ya’llz zipper is right over ya’llz butt cracks?
This is one the diamonds in the rough that I picked up from WMSR, Miami’s University’s student radio station, right before they liquidated their entire inventory of vinyl. What initially caught my attention was the totally badass cover. I mean just look at it.
Look at those two pimps standing triumphantly on stage with the most insanely large speaker setup ever convieved. I mean the stacks are actually set up on top of a huge subwoofer–the turntables are magically impervious to the subsonic bass pounding the writhing all-sexy-lady audience.
And just look at those buxom beauties, just crawling their way up to the crotchal regions of Magic Mike and Crew. How can they resist their midnight black leather suits and lustrous 24k gold chains? I know if I was there I probably wouldn’t be able to either.
Oh, and there’s a bitchin’ primary colored light stack. Epic.
The album is pretty much what you’d expect from the cover–kinda in the vein of 69 Boyz’ eternal classic “Tootsie Roll” but also packin’ a sock full of quarters just in case shit gets real.
To fully enjoy this album I highly recommend that you listen with nothing less than 12 inch woofers driven by, at the absolute minimum, 100 watts each. The bass, or BASE in Magic Country, is the real reason peep this. It’s a nonstop onslaught of sub 50hz pummeling that has to be felt to be appreciated. It’s the kind of bass that just makes you want to rollerskate frontwards, backwards, and all crosslegged in an eternal thump- in-the-trunk driven loop of euphoria.
