Within the next week, I will officially 'retire' the Deep Movements blog and premiere a new blog called CHILDRRN'S FAERYLAND. The new blog will be of a more all-inclusice approach to culture through the eyes of the maniac you see below:
This means that I'll be posting everything from the music you've come to expect from me, plus thoughts on literature, film, cock sizes, and so on. So follow here for news & the URL of the CHILDRRN'S FAERYLAND blog.
Today marks the first 'official' day of the Bay Area Anarchist Book Fair, and so I'm letting you in on one of the most brutal hardcore bands of the '90s, His Hero is Gone. Turns out their bassist, Carl Auge, got his MFA in painting at CCA, where I'm finishing up my MFA in poetry at the moment. (I KNOW, FUCKIN' DUMB IDEA, DON'T GO TO GRAD SCHOOL KIDS). The painting above is by him, and you can check out more of his work here. And dig "Carry On," because its changes are just way too amazing.
His Hero is Gone- Carry On
Tomorrow, some Black Tambourine.
First off, tonight is another installment of an epic lineup featuring two of our favorite bands here; namely, Shannon and the Clams and Hunx and His Punkettes. It's a tour kick-off party, so check out their pages for dates (and thank yr lucky stars if yr gonna be in Austin for SXSW), and say hi (or do more) to them when they're in your town. QUEER ROCKNROLL MADNESS!
Shannon & the Clams- You Can Come Over
Next, as a send off (and an intimation of my jealousy of Shannon, Hunx and crew), here's a track from the AWESOME upcoming album from The Bitters, which will be released on Mexican Summer in April. Anyway, who wouldn't want to be a travelin' girl? Dangz.
The Bitters- Travelin' Girl
Forecast in chrome and plastic. Tyrants breathing alloy of slavery, planet hunger, versions of Jackie O. Sherry, Sherry baby, won't you come out tonight? And the stars whisper like old blood at the edges of the body of night. She stood with one hand on the phone for four hours, poised as though only a few seconds had passed. I watched her through the crack between the shade and the sill. She waited for a forecast in human trembling, together with other important women. Come, come, come out tonight. The world suffers for her: The clock hurries like a terrified animal, then stops, dribbling saliva. She has eaten chicken pie and bubble gum. For a month the Luftewaffe lived on raisins. Same with the French, after the war. Jackie O. received fresh oranges from John Kennedy. Silly girl. She cannot put down the telephone receiver. She is waiting to receive my body of work. She wants to take it in her ear. A mottled flush builds under her cheeks. She eats Xmas candy while she waits. The telephone rings and rings. I am not at home. I am with Jackie O. We are eating oranges from the president. We are alone on the roof of a Park Avenue penthouse. Picture of Marilyn Monroe in my back pocket molded by the heat and sweat to the shape of my buttocks. You are gripping the phone smiling, eating candy, crying. I am with the important women, now. I am secretly an important man. Hang up the phone. I can't dance with you, anymore. Go to your freezer and get a popsicle. Go to your TV. Turn on your TV. You will see me and Jackie O. She will be taking it in the ear, my body of work. In the planetarium. You will receive a forecast. I will always be more important than you. You will never be important enough. You will never be on the whip-hand end of slavery, never be the one to wield hunger against humanity. Heaven will never be an extension of your body. Your body will always belong to someone else. The picture of Marilyn Monroe flutters across the roof, steaming, shaped like me. Shaped like my ass. The sky is filled with oranges during the war. We eat them. The president is alone in a room. He is unimportant. As we eat his oranges the sky grows blacker. The moon ripens and turns red. It rots and is swallowed by the darkness. You are still by the phone. It is ringing and ringing, dead. Sherry, Sherry baby, won't you come out tonight? It is completely dark. The earth freezes. You put down the receiver and go to the window. Come, come, come out tonight.
I first heard this when I was eleven years old. Changed my life. For more on Steven Jesse Bernstein and his work, do go here.
If you're not familiar with the output of Kleenex/LiLiPUT, then I recommend going over here to learn the history...
What's exciting is that KRS are putting out yet another compilation of the group's output, this time featuring two live sets from Kleenex and LiLiPUT, as well as a DVD of videos and a tour film. Unreleased as of yet, I can't resist putting up a track from Kleenex's live set from Biel in 1979. A love song of sorts.
Tomorrow, maybe something from the land of corn?