There are albums that make you want to cry. There are albums that give you the giggles. There are those that slip on a pair of dancing shoes and do the Charleston across your new living room rug.
And then there are albums, like S.T.R.E.E.T.D.A.D., that will give you scary weird dreams.
Now, I understand the connotation that this album will put you to sleep is a bad thing. No artist wants to imagine an audience getting the nods during their wicked guitar solo. But I’m not saying that this album will put you to sleep. I’m saying that if you happen to have this playing while you take a quick weekend nap, in between raves perhaps, it will recharge your chi with some wicked weird REM.
Here are some dream scenarios you may encounter while cuddling up close to S.T.R.E.E.T.D.A.D.:
- You find yourself running an afterschool swimming program for inner city kids. The pool’s located in an indoor gymnasium, the kind with the retractable wood floors. It’s poorly lit and smells strongly of feet. The turnout, as usual, is small–the boredom becomes oppressive.
Suddenly, Marvin Gaye shows up wearing short red trunks and ready for a swim. He’s clearly too old to be swimming with junior high students but you let him in because, after all, it’s Marvin Gaye. Marvin hops on the diving board, does a couple of pumps on the end, and takes an incredible 100 yard leap straight into the other end of the monstrous pool.
You run to check and see if the security tapes caught this fantastic feat. Joy abounds once you see the Beta machine’s rolling. However, this joy quickly fades once an attempt is made to retrieve the tape and show it to local news stations. The tape crumbles upon human contact, and with it your hope to spread the word of this suddenly very tall tale. No one will ever believe you about Marvin’s magnificent aquatic hop. You want to die.
- Your dream starts on an impossible tall escalator–so tall in fact you can’t see the top. It’s rolling upward with you perched on one of the unnecessarily sharp steps. There’s suddenly a strong vibration felt through your feet and hands. You look up just in time to see a huge block of sharp Wisconsin cheddar cheese bounding down, down, down.
The knife-like stairs begin to grate this behemoth as it approaches your position. This happens slowly at first, but quickly confederates with each step passed. Once the cheese block reaches you it isn’t a block at all but a finely grated cheddar blizzard. This blizzard knocks you clean off of your feet and down to the bottom of the escalator, where you roll helplessly over the incoming stairs–helplessly in a big pile of grated sharp Wisconsin cheddar cheese.
The heat of your friction against the stairs melts the cheese, turning it into a frothy gloop of the nacho variety. You continue to roll like a Donkey Kong barrel at the bottom of the escalator. Finally, the nacho cheese of your own making becomes too deep and you drown in the Queso Sea.
- You find yourself lying on the floor at a !!! concert. Everyone’s laughing at you because your legs don’t work. Everyone. Is. Laughing.
There are endless record stores in San Francisco. On just about every corner you’ll find a tiny little shop that slings vinyl, along with colorful books that are fun to look at after smoking a righteous J. Some of the places are super tiny–and I don’t think a lot of them can honestly be called record stores. Selling three large crates of records doesn’t make you a record store but a small general store that happens to have a few records on hand.
Then there’s the monster stores like Amoeba Records with stacks and stacks of wax upon wax. It’s actually a bit intimidating to sort through all of their warez. It would probably take a full day to look through everything…but they’re continually putting new stuff out so it’s just impossible to keep up. It’s like if you’ve ever tried to dig a really big hole below high tide–sooner or later shit’s gonna get inundated.
Most of the time at the record stores here I see stuff that’s completely foreign to me. All sorts of Japanese imports, way too many local bands, and just odd ball LPs all over the place. This would all be fine and dandy if I had unlimited funds. So, it always comes down to a stack of about 10 records that must be whittled down to 2, maybe 3 at the most. And when it comes to the finalists I really wish I had a smart phone to find out exactly who these mystery musicians are I’m about to drop 30 bucks on.
But the fanciest thing my phone does is text, and since Cha Cha isn’t free anymore I just have to make tough decisions. This, more often than not, means picking the album with the most interesting cover.
There’s no album that’s a better example of this than Steel Pole Bath Tub’s The Miracle of Sound In Motion. See, I’m a real sucker for weird sound effects albums, as evidenced by the Environments and Automotive Recordings posted on this site. (I actually picked up another Environments album at Amoeba Records during the same trip. I simply couldn’t pass this one up. Two words: Love In. You’re going to love it.) From the front and rear covers of this album it appears, on first glance, that this is a really exciting sound journey. Something that really butters the ear drums and throw em on a skillet. However, when I put this bad boy on this wasn’t the case at all.
This album is a noisecore affair, meaning hardcore music mixed with sound effects and samples. There’s no crazy stereophonic ping pong paddling. No simulated surround sound. No cheezy trumpets battling for stereophonic superiority. None of that hokey stuff I so desperately crave.
Initially I was kind of pissed. “FALSE ADVERTISING,” I screamed with rage-clenched fists. There were probably tears shed, but don’t tell anyone. However, this feeling of being cheated quickly changed to intrigue.
Who was this album designer that totally tricked me into purchasing this disc on a stylistic whim. The credits listed Sam Suliman so I looked him up. What I found was really quite stunning:
See more awesome Sam Suliman record labels here and here.
Sam Suliman kind of reminds me of a Charley Harper of album art. Simple shapes and colors that really pop when arranged in just the right way. Oh yeah, I also found this one:
Looks familiar...
I really wonder how Steel Pole Bath Tub got Sam Suliman to let them use an old design on their album cover. It’s really a great design–hell, it got me to buy the damn thing. If anything, even if I absolutely hated the music inside, it was worth $12 just for visual appeal.
But it turns out that I really dig this album. Hardcore, let alone noisecore, albums rarely find their way into my collection. This brings me back to the whole smart phone debate. If I’d had a smart phone the day I picked this bad boy up I would have searched Steel Pole Bath Tub online and probably decided against the purchase. Instead of this work of art and sound in my collection there’d be a disc of interviews with Indy 500 racers. Thank God that didn’t happen.
Record collecting should be all about your intuition. If you’re a record scavenger you should visit a store planning to spend $30 bucks at the absolute max during each hunt, and hunt often rather than clearing out one store’s collection once a month. Many times the way an album looks, feels, or even smells will tell you everything about it. Other times, like with Steel Pole Bath Tub, its appearance will tell you nothing. But never consider any purchase a bad purchase. Take the damn thing home, crank it up, and enjoy it while you can. The best thing about collecting is taking new paths and experiencing new music.
Plus, you can always find some sucker for a profitable resell.
I also have to include the script from the back of this album. It’s really a marketing masterpiece of lies and deceit, although I kind of think the copy up until a certain point may have been on The Sound of Sounds and the rest was written for The Miracle of Sound In Motion. I figure this because once it gets into the description of particular songs on The Miracle of Sound In Motion a bunch of typos rear their ugly heads.
Why are you interested in this album? Perhaps your eye was caught by the unique cover design and you decided to discover what the whole thing is all about. Fine! Keep reading!
Maybe you’re some sort of HI-FI stereo “bug” who thinks of his “rig” with the same degree of affection and devotion a Ferrari owner has for his car. Swell! We’re still batting a thousand!
It could be that you always check out the new SOUNDS and your local record merchant told you this was a “must listen”. We think so too!
Then again you could be such an extreme individualist that no description or category an account for you. PAX VOBISCUM!
Whether whimsical daydream or disciplined professional we all agree SOUNDS have the ability to take us to the heights of euphoria or the depths of despair. Second only to the sensations of sight, taste and touch, hearing is our most intense form of perception. This was our inspiration for recording the SOUNDS that we have here. Each SOUND will strike a chord of remembrance or of mystery. One of nostalgia or of fantasy.
The sentimentalist in you will want to relive the futility of love, in all it’s *sic* nuances, with Exhale.
The more adventurous sort might prefer the roguish, high-level espionage flavor of Thumbnail.
The listener with a more repressed streek *sic* of of homicidal vengeance will appreciate being behind the trigger of the kill-spree that is 594.
For those in need of some relaxation, simply take the Train to Miami where the world is warm and happy, peopled by loving souls dressed in colorful fun-wear.
These SOUNDS and more await your pleasure with open, welcoming arms. But enough said! The moment ou join needle to record is the moment your journey into the strange and wondrous world of SOUND begins.
TECHNICAL INFORMATION
This sound recording is engineered to perfection and is the final product of decades of research and development into dynamic directional stereophonic recording techniques. Initial recordings are originally recorded onto Sears Velocity Response Hard-drive (77 LFO’s) which affords the tympanic membrane complete voice allocation priority. (In this way we are able to bypass intigrated *sic* MIDI entirely, decreasing the overlap amount.) Limitless “tracks” are then dumped directly to a binary Matrix Modulator by means of our Special Electronic Process (SEP).
SEP, in addition to incorporating all “live” instruments into multi-tymbral instrument banks of sample cell hierarchy, allows for new velocity zones to be heard, heretofore undiscernable *sic* to the human or even canine ear. With the addition of the Waveform Sound Accelerator in the final “mixdown” stage, SEP enables perfect octave priority with equal detune. The inception and utilization of SEP, given its longitudinal and vertical parameters of dialogue, marks a significant advance in the art of dynamic directional stereo reproduction.
This recording is sequence-generated in accordance with the specifications adopted by the Recording Industry of America (RIA). For best results set the controls on your equipment to equalize with the RIA playback amplitude curve.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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"
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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*
