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Monthly Archives: February 2011

Donatien Alphonse François, Marquis de Sade (2 June 1740 – 2 December 1814) was a French aristocrat, revolutionary, politician and writer famous for his libertine sexuality and lifestyle. His works include novels, short stories, plays, dialogues, and political tracts; in his lifetime some were published under his own name, while others appeared anonymously and Sade denied being their author. He is best known for his erotic works, which combined philosophical discourse with pornography, depicting bizarre sexual fantasies with an emphasis on violence, criminality, and blasphemy against the Catholic Church. He was a proponent of extreme freedom, unrestrained by morality, religion or law.

Sade was incarcerated in various prisons and in an insane asylum for about 32 years of his life; eleven years in Paris (10 of which were spent in the Bastille) a month in Conciergerie, two years in a fortress, a year in Madelonnettes, three years in Bicêtre, a year in Sainte-Pélagie, and 13 years in the Charenton asylum. During the French Revolution he was an elected delegate to the National Convention. Many of his works were written in prison. The term “sadism” is derived from his name.


The excerpts featured on this recording are read quite artfully by Patrick Magee, who played Sade in the 1967 film Sarat/Sade. You may also recognize him as Mr. Frank Alexander, aka the old dude, form A Clockwork Orange. Here’s a couple of scenes from these films which depict the on-screen cajones of Mr. Magee.

This second video will give you a good grasp of Sade’s writing style and beliefs.

What is strange, and worth investigating, is how, given the neglect, the quasi-total condemnation of his writings–how has Sade survived? What is there in his work that has caused it to endure. It’s eroticism? To be sure. Its shock qualities, based on a philosophy of negation which, as the editors note, no “reasonable man” can understand, much less accept? No doubt. Its imaginative power, which is of such scope and magnitude as to create an entire universe, a self-c0ntained world not of human comedy but of human (and super-human) tragedy, surreal rather than real, a writhing, insensate universe at the pole opposite Gethsemane and Golgotha? Yes, that too. And yet, to date, we have preferred to immure the man and ignore his writings, fearing his absolute vision.

To profit from that extraordinary vision, however, we do not have to subscribe to it. But if we ignore it, we do so at our own risk. For to ignore Sade is to choose not to know part of ourselves, that inviolable part which lurks within each of us and which, eluding the light of reason, can, we have learned in this century, establish absolute evil as a rule of conduct and threaten to destroy the world.

-From the Publisher’s Preface to The Marquis de Sade, Vol. 1

You can read the rest of this preface and full works of the Marquis de Sade online here: Justine, Philosophy in the Bedroom, & Other Writings

>>>Click here to download The Marquis De Sade read by Patrick Magee on 320 kbps mp3s


1. Justine (A Selection) (20:10)

2 A Letter from Prison to His Wife (8:00)

3. The Mystified Magistrate (28:00)

TC 1214

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.


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

Lyrics aren’t the peanut butter that hold my record sandwich together. I’m more of a beat and potatoes kind of guy. Why aren’t there more sandwiches with potatoes on them, fried or otherwise? Anyway, it’s not that lyrically-driven songs don’t appeal to me, it’ s just that sometimes I get easily confused. So most of the time the tone of the vocals get lodged in the old noggin but not the meaning.

However, there are exceptions to every rule. Why?’s Alopecia is a prime example of this. The lyrics in this album are becoming more and more ingrained within my subconscious with every listen. I’ll wake up some days and have one line stuck in my head all day and wonder what the hell it all means. Is frontman Yoni Wolf monitoring my dreams? Yes?

I think that’s entirely possible, seeing how we both lived at 33E McMillan St. in Cincinnati, albeit at different times . He very well could have installed a dreamcatcher under the floorboards beneath my bed before I moved there. Or he could have installed it behind the door that led to 33E’s Otherworld. The Otherworld was a secret staircase which overlooked a secret outdoor courtyard which sky nor God could ever touch. I know I shouldn’t have spent so much time in the Otherworld; the whispers in the stairs told me this from the very beginning.

The fact that I was in high school while he placed the dreamcatcher only solidifies my theory because I was the captain of my high school roller hockey team, which brought me lot of publicity. He must have read one of the many Enquirer pieces that featured my slapshot skills and said, “That guy must have some pretty interesting dreams. I’m going to capture those dreams, examine them, write lyrics to an enjoyable album based on those dreams, and then reexamine his dreams again after the album’s been planted deep withing his dome.” It’s just crazy enough to work.

This is an album that grows on you. After the first listen I didn’t really know what to think. I was told this was a hip hop album, which makes sense because it’s on Anticon Records. I was also told this was an indie rock album. I was told a bunch of things that made me expect something else. You have to go into this album leaving all preconceptions behind and just take it as something strangely beautiful. It’s taken me a few years to fall completely head over heels for its sound, which is dry and succulent at the same time, but it was total worth being patient.

Here’s a handful of lyrics from the album’s first side. I wanted to post lyrics from every song, but Yoni’s style of lyrical delivery exhausted my fingers. Yoni: the man with the golden lung. So you get a taste of what’s to come, but you’ll have to throw on the headphones to experience the rest. Also, I recommend retrieving those BIG headphones from their carrying crate for this one because there’s a lot to capture.

I’ve tried to get the following lyrics completely correct, but there may be small errors. After all, I’m the guy who thought the chorus lyric to the following song was, “Everytime you go away you take a piece of meat with you.”

-I’m not a lady’s man, I’m a landmine filming my own fake death. Under an ’88 Cavalier I go, nothing but the rear bumper’s blown.

-If you grew up with white boys who only look at black and Puerto Rican porno cuz they want something that their dad don’t got then you know where you’re at.

-Mortaring your earholes shut in a rush with wet coke in a Starbucks bathroom with the door closed, on booze. I’m left in residue and confused like the first time you used soft water. Down on my luck like Houdini when the last fist struck.

-At your house, the smell of two living human bodies and oven gas. You pray to nothing out loud; two first names and an ampersand embroidered proudly on a kitchen towel. You’re a beautiful and violent word with the skinny neck of a Chinese bird in a fading ancient painting, and if you’re in heaven waiting you made it there fighting, the tightest kite string in a bad storm with lightning.

-In Berlin I saw two men fuck in the dark corner of a basketball court, just the slight change of pocket change pulsing.

-Putting three quarters into a washing machine next to a caulked, cracked wall in the basement of Fairmount St. I feel like a loop of the last eight frames of film before a slow-motion Lee Harvey Oswald gets shot in the gut and killed–alone.

-I sleep on my back cuz it’s good for the spine and coffin rehearsal. I know a psychic who reads her own palms and the findings are personal. She keeps her fists closed tight and she sleeps on her side. Maybe she knows something I don’t know.

-There’s nothing more appealing than the sound of high heals down the marble tile hallways of your district’s one allotted city-funded steiner school, bilingual or Montessori, followed by a single high-pitched scream followed by breaking glass.

-Could your anger be mapped into an interpretive dance for a hip hop track, or could it be bowed out on strings, or could it be strung into a pattern for a God’s eye to bring to your alma mater’s holiday fundraiser boutique thing?

>>>Click Here to Download Alopecia 320 kbps


A1 The Vowels Pt. 2 4:04
A2 Good Friday 3:50
A3 These Few Presidents 3:04
A4 The Hollows 3:55
A5 Song Of The Sad Assassin 4:13
A6 Gnashville 3:49
B1 Fatalist Palmistry 3:53
B2 The Fall Of Mr. Fifths 3:16
B3 Brook & Waxing 2:35
B4 A Sky For Shoeing Horses Under 2:29
B5 Twenty-Eight 0:44
B6 Simeon’s Dilemma 3:33
B7 By Torpedo Or Crohn’s 4:04
B8 Exegesis 1:37

The download for Kraftwerk’s Trans-Europe Express is down and yet again I don’t have the record with me in San Francisco. If you have a copy of this please let me know ASAP. If you find anything else that’s down please shoot me a line so I can get it fixed pronto. Thanks in advance.


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


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


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