Read:My:Back

Vile Cherubs are GO.

Friends, it's simple: If you download only one obscure garage rock MP3 today, make sure it's "The Man with the Photograph" by the Vile Cherubs.

[Listen]

I first heard these guys on a sketchy-looking reissue CD that came out on an even-sketchier label in 1993. The liner notes alleged that the band had gigged around the Washington DC area throughout the late 80s, but favoring influences that were pretty remote from the Dischord-dominated post punk scene (think Velvet Underground, Mission of Burma... maybe the Seeds, Shadows of Night, or some other 60s garage kingpins), they'd gone largely unheard of by anyone residing outside the Beltway.

I was smitten almost immediately. Great songs, crud-fi production (the source material was hewn from cassette demos which had circulated only slightly north of private channels), and some genuine rock royalty in the form of Tim Green, who was by then a member of Nation of Ulysses (and whom today resides in Citay, who are absolutely one of the best bands going right now if you ask me. Which you didn't.)

I found my copy of the reissue disc in a dollar bin more than 15 years ago, and have never seen another copy outside of the one in WFMU's record library. Fortunately, Australia's Afterburn Records has re-upped these amazing recordings once again, and those that fail to bite this time around will surely curse the decision in years to come. Read up on more of the band's history here and here, then grab the disc while Midheaven still has some in stock.

Vanishing Hoboken

Wow—this is great! (And a little bit sad.)

Classic Rock Confessional: Aerosmith's "Seasons of Wither"

Today we'll pretend the band that wrote this song never went on to soil the Earth with staggering works of ungenius like "Dude Looks like a Lady". In 1974, Aerosmith released one of the truly perfect rock songs of the 20th century, and not surprisingly, it's one which is almost uniformly ignored by classic rock radio. Though rather hilarious in hindsight, I first became acquainted with "Seasons of Wither" through Die Kreuzen's faithful cover of it on their 1989 Gone Away EP. I was in high school when I bought that record, and my hatred of the simpering, pop-metal band that Aerosmith had become was in full bloom. Yet even in the midst of my infatuation with ear-splitting hardcore and its related subgenres, "Seasons of Wither" warranted a trip to the local record hut for a used copy of the band's 1974 album, Get Your Wings. Then as now, it was two bucks well spent. As a friend recently remarked to me (rather dorkily, but he was right on), this song was definitely Aerosmith's "Stairway to Heaven" moment.

The Germs: Live at the Starwood, 1980

BT Ultra reports that Rhino Handmade is releasing a limited edition disc of the last ever Germs show with Darby Crash on vocals. The package includes cut-n-paste style liner notes in mock punk fanzine style, as well as reproductions of the setlist and original gig flyer. Everything about it sounds awesome... except for the fact that it's a CD and not a record. That's not a jab at the fine folks at Rhino, but c'mon... haven't we obsessive music types arrived at the collective recognition that CDs are crap and that vinyl and MP3s are the formats of the future? I'm not even a fan of live recordings, but I take my Germs-worship pretty seriously. If this project was being released in a gatefold wax edition with an included CD-R of MP3s to throw into iTunes, I'd stop just shy of getting a Germs burn in order to secure myself a copy.

Maybe you're more forgiving that I am? Consider the Germs performing "My Tunnel" while you mull it all over, and then pre-order your copy of the live disc here.

R:M:B Wordcloud

I'm not a huge fan of cloud blogging, but the groovy results of running this page through Wordle's cloud generator are a cool distraction. Unfortunately, it only seems to analyze whatever's on the front page right now, as opposed to pulling data from all of the r:m:b archives. No matter—it's fun to check out anyway. Via Blue Jersey.

The Golden Rule of Grilling Season

Don't punish the grill for your inability to make a decent burger. I came across this photo in a real estate listing for a house we can't afford to buy. I wonder, why has this poor Kenmore 5000 been sent to timeout? What indignity did it commit upon the good meats and vegetables of the world to earn this sad position in the poison ivy zone of this backyard? I suppose the photographer might just be afraid of setting their deck ablaze, but then again, is torching the entire forest really any more responsible?

Gaunt... but not Forgotten

Here's a massive collection of MP3s by Gaunt, one of the more electrifying and ass-kicking bands of the last 20 years. Their Whitey the Man EP from '92 galvanized the airstaff at WPRB in a way that no other record in memory had—everybody overplayed that thing to the point of occasionally-hostile ridicule from the listenership. I consider myself very fortunate to have taken up residency in PRB's coveted DJ chair just as all of this was happening.

Locally speaking, the barrage of Gaunt singles that followed in Whitey's wake pretty much defined the joys of unloading one's paycheck at Pier Platters or Kim's Underground every week. Keeping up with the Ohio band's output was a practice that required singularly manic devotion, as new 45s seemed to hit the shelves on a daily basis for a while there. Dearly departed Jerry Wick could turn out ten great songs a week, and it's a miracle that the myriad labels who were anxious to add a Gaunt 45 to their catalog were even able to keep up.

An interview with Gaunt axeman Jovan Karcic was the centerpiece for the debut issue of my old zine, and the countless live sets I saw them perform at Maxwell's over the years still stand out as some of the best-spent nights of the era. In hindsight, I really couldn't have asked for a better band to have soundtracked the awkward years of frustration and anxiety that transitioned me into my thirties.

Fast forward umpteen years later, and one impressively exhaustive completist has amassed two discs worth of Gaunt MP3s for download (66 songs in total) that comprise everything from the band's early days: The Whitey EP, a boatload of singles and comp tracks, plus two complete live sets.

Realizing that 66 songs is a major investment if you're a Gaunt newbie, allow me to recommend starting with the studio versions of these tracks for a less intimidating point of entry:

Jim Motherfucker
I Believe (In None of This)
Silly Watches
Back Off
Turn to Ash
Pollution
Spine
Sad Songs
Salvation Army
Solution

As for me, I'll be kicking back in hog heaven with these MP3s for a good while. Gaunt still rules, ok? Here's a video that should seal the deal for any residual doubters in our midst.

Scenes from Paul Graham's A-1: The Great North Road

More here. If you've been with me for a while, you may recognize the shot from his Troubled Land series that used to grace my WFMU playlist page, circa 2004.

I find Graham's work to be immediately stirring and quite beautiful—but those aspects are often accompanied by an oddly disquieting subtext. His photographs offer a grim reckoning of recent history, but one that's not too foreign from the realm of modern social sustainability issues. Currently, he resides in New York City. There's a brief but informative bio on him here.

In Memory of My Favorite Hobbit

There are times when Dio-fronted Black Sabbath totally trumps the Ozzy-era stuff. ("Neon Knights", "The Mob Rules". I could go on.)

But nothing ever blew my BMX/burnout/80s metalhead mind like being shown that the DIO logo (above), when gazed upon upside down (below), reveals the word: "Devil". This was brought to my attention, like most valuable things in the 1980s, by someone's older brother. 25 years later, I demonstrated the same visual trick for Irwin Chusid, and it blew his mind, too.

Also, re-watching the video for "The Last in Line" suggests that the song is, in fact, about an Italian-American kid who goes to hell through a portal in a suburban office park, and is forced to play loud video games.

Now that's rock & roll. Rest in peace, Ronnie James Dio.

Cash Money Radio

As I've mentioned many times in the past, the early NYC hip-hop radio shows (Mr. Magic, Kiss-FM's Saturday night Mastermix) were among the earliest inspirations for my life as a radio guy. Listening to those shows and the idolizing the DJs who hosted them was an obsession that rather obviously explains the direction my career has taken in adult life. Radio meant everything to me, and radio happened in New York City.

This clip is from roughly the same era, but I fear it would have left a very different impression on me, had I seen it as an impressionable youngster...

Via Billy Jam.