Poot!

It's a pootyful day!

Garage Days ReReReRevisited.

Mr. Krotpong is all about the drawing of stuff, the illustration of various shit, and the depiction of things via the use of pen, ink, and paper. Sometimes Mr.Krotpong does this for bands that he enjoys by making flyers and whatnot. Every now and then a band likes Mr.Krotpong's art enough to ask him to make a cover for one of their musical releases. This here be they. Part two! In an ongoing series!

This is my second single cover. Limited to 300!

The back cover of the even more rare insert. This was also an image for a tshirt. My little swipe of a Ray Pettibon/Black Flag design.

My second jaunt into cover design was more relaxed than my first. This one was for The Paranoids, a local musical performance unit.

Everything about this release is primitive and brutish. From the rough, unfinished looking cover, to the hand-written labels, to the thick-assed, bubbly hand-pressed vinyl (our friend Craig owned an ancient record press), this single looks to be the lowest of the low-fi. The music fits in by being raw, and repetitive. All high end, no bottom. Churning, driving, caveman rock and roll. Hey, if you don't like it, it moves pretty quick. It's only one sided. Three songs, and it's done in just over 5 minutes.

This thing is pretty rare. It sold out fast, and used copies just don't turn up that often. I have looked for it on the internet, and I could only find one mention of it. It's not for sale anywhere, as far as I can tell. I don't even have my copy of this anymore, I had to borrow it from my wife.

So, here it is

-{the Paranoids}-
Broke
Homewrecker
Baby, Let Me Follow You Down

1995 Bunkhouse 04

Act Like Nothing's Wrogn.

My surgery was successful, and the doctor is filled with optimism about my recovery.

I will regain my skills as a Foosball master.
I could be back on the bike in as little as two weeks.
I'll be able to draw, paint, sculpt, and do all of that other artistic shit that I do again, soon.
I'll be able to drive in a matter of days.
I'll bet I can even sling a pint or two hundred at my place of employment starting next Wednesday.

I haven't seen my hand or arm in over a week.
I will have a narsty scar.
It hurts.

Thus far, modern medicine gets a wincing two thumbs up from me.

"Only sick music makes money today."

I like to draw. Over the years, I have done a few odd pictures for some of our golden-hearted local bands. In the coming weeks I'll be going through my back catalog of record covers that I have done, and posting them along with the usual musical tidbits.

It all started here:

Side one of my first seven inch cover.

Side two.

This is it, the scourge of central Texas record store dollar bins everywhere, my first disastrous outing into the murky world of microscopic music labels and record store retail, the dreaded Tabitha seven inch.

Why the dread?

It was the only time I ever got paid cash for doing cover art, and quibbling about the money wrecked my friendship with the band. Hmmm, not the outcome I expected. Me no like.

Beyond that, I worked at several local record stores on and off for about seven years. Believe me when I say that during this time, the Tabitha single was always in stock, there were always many, many copies. I got to do inventory twice a year, for all those years. In that time, the price went from a brand new $2.99, to a slightly soiled $1.99, just before throwing itself down the bargain basement backstairs at $0.99 a go. It lingered on at that price for a few years, with each copy getting that much more shopworn and jacked. After that, it was all it could do to dry-heave itself to a floptacular $0.49.

When the bottom fell completely out, it was all marked with a large black "x" and put on the curb... for free. Between you and me, I have only sold two (2) copies of this record for actual green money that can be spent on stuff, ever. In seven years. Such a disappointment.

Couldn't have had anything to do with the cover, could it?

It's not a bad single. It has a nice prog/punkish feel to it. A definite Rush-y vibration is flowing throughout. It is much too jammin' and well produced for this city in the early 90s. This was a garage rock town back then, and these guys weren't about that.

The cover idea was not mine, but I was paid to execute it.

-{Tabitha}-

Nap
Powerballast
Red on White
New Hands

1994 Bunkhouse 03

Them Good Old Days.

List of things to do: I'll have a plate and a screw in my wristy-poo, some betadine, with stitches, and a half-cast too. None of this without sedation, I'd hate that. Wouldn't you?

Trying to write in a pain-infused Vicodin haze is sucky. I look forward to the return of normal.

I Saw Stars.

Guh, I get tired of seeing my busted hand every time I open this thing. Here, today is all about some stars.

Picked a fight with the concrete...

Guess who is always gonna come out on top in such a battle? Here's a hint: Not me.

When I'm out and about on my bicycle, I travel the same route to get out of my neighborhood almost every time. Today was no different. I was riding up my hill, past the school... Hey look those kids are fighting! Oh, no. Only playing. Down a little more. Alright, up on the sidewalk. Wave to the security guy that I pass on a weekly basis. I glance away while I am doing this, giving me just enough time to miscalculate the distance between my right shoulder and this goddamn telephone pole.WHAM!

Normally when I wreck my bike, I swear a lot(!), then I get up and assess the damage to myself, brush myself off a bit, and hobble off to whatever destination I had planned. I usually get terrible road rash, or pick a rock out of my knee or something. Not so, this time. This time it took me all of three seconds to figure out that...well... my wrist looked strange, and my hand seemed to be whispering to me like a dying sidekick in a B western,"Krotpong,tell me about all the fun stuff we used to do back when we were kiiids..." and it just trailed off. All I know is that I'm not swearing, I'm speechless. I am, in fact, somewhat horrified because I immediately know how the rest of my day is going to go. Badly.

The nice security guard asked me if I was ok. I said something witty like "I think I just broke my fucking wrist." Then I got back on my bike and rode back home, where I called my awesome wife at work and had her take me to the emergency room, in 5:00 traffic. It was fantastic.


The way they put your wrist back in its place is pretty Medieval, from what I have been told. I thankfully have no recollection of this, as I was in some weird drug induced state somewhere between awake and in a coma. Ah, modern medicine!

Today's audio bit is Puget Power #3, a wonderful 7 inch. The tracklist is as follows:

Calamity Jane - Shark
Rancid Vat - Breakin' Bones
Mudhoney - Bush Pusherman
Night Kings - Black Fluid

"Death's brother, Sleep."

I loves me some sleeps!

We Are All Devo!

Devo was one of the greatest bands in the history of rock and roll, wanna fight about it? I don't.

This is my blog, so I win anyway. I'll say it again. Devo was one of the greatest bands in the history of rock and roll. They were annoying, all up in your face and shit, but super pleasant and catchy as hell at the same time. I love them, so should all of everyone else on this stupid planet.

The recording that I am sticking on the internet today is "Devo : Live, The Mongoloid Years." It is way out of print, and used copies are expensive even if scratched to hell.

It starts off strong with the band in full command, laying down some blazing fast versions of songs off "Q: Are We Not Men..." As the tracks progress, the sound devolves, gets weird... confrontational. There is actually part of a fight between the band and the promoters captured on this marvelous live document. Just before the plug is pulled. You can read more about this if you're interested, here.

The tracklist is somewhat wonky, but the sound is top notch. Get it while it's hot!

{[Devo:Live.The Mongoloid Years]

(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction [Listed as Satisfaction (I Can't Get No)]
Too Much Paranoias
Praying Hands
Uncontrollable Urge
Mongoloid
Smart Patrol / Mr. DNA
Gut Feeling (Slap Your Mammy)
Sloppy (I Saw My Baby Gettin') [Listed as Sloppy]
Come Back Jonee
Clockout
Soo Bawls
Space Junk
Blockhead
Subhuman Woman
Bamboo Bimb
Beulah
Jocko Homo/I Need a Chick

Patterns in Nature VI

Gah!

"Things are better... now we have the bomb."

Here is a little vintage surf instrumental cd that someone I barely know made for me, because they are a nice person. This is part one of a multiple disc set. I might put up the rest eventually, but for now it's just going to be this. Enjoy!

{Surf Beat/Nocturne}

Skatalites?
Chakachas - Jungle Fever
Timmy Thomas - Why Can't We...
B.Bumble and the Stingers - Nautilus
Rhythm Kings - Piper Soul
Soul Kings - Blue Soul
Centuries - Outer Limits
Jan Davis - Watusi Zombie
Mustangs - Jack the Ripper
Renegades- Charge
Renegaids - Surf Tragedy
Deltas - Soul Beat
Silvertones - Bathsheba
Starfires - Space Needle
Surf Tones - Gear
Traunts - Sunset Surf
Knights - 280lb Shoe Salesman
Megatons - Isis
Sentinels - Latina (slow)
Sentinels - Sunset Beach
Sentinels - Tor Chula
Thunderheads - Eleven
Tom Starr and the Galaxies - Chifaldo
Orch. Rock a Mambo? - (Kinsasha Sound)
? - Christina
Karl Denver - Wimoweh
Karl Denver - Shim Gan Goo
Karl Denver - Zimba
Karl Denver - Vella Langa
Karl Denver - Peanut Vendor
Korla Pandit - Turkish Dance
Korla Pandit - Miserlou
Harry Zimmerman - Harlem Nocturne

Learning Some Discipline.

This is my friend, Ms. Spiny Orb Weaver. She has been telling me to post some Progrocking stuff for weeks now. She calls to me at all hours of the day and night, "When will there be the Progrock?" "Can I have some Progrock now?"

Now, OK? Now you can have your precious Progrock. Jesus. Enough already.

This here is some swirling, drony, psychedelic shit. There are a few contemporary acts involved in this mix, but I thought most of them dovetailed nicely with the pure, vintage proggy goodness that makes up the remainder. I tried to keep the bonged-out hippy jamming to a minimum, leaving it only to a few hardened profesionals to take it to that outer limit. The rest is butter-smooth beauty.

For delicious Progrock, first you take 2 cups of jazz and 1/2 a cup of classical music, throw it in the bowl with 1 1/2 cups of rock 'n' roll. Hit it with a hand mixer for a minute until it becomes creamy. It is important to add Acid at this stage, and hash oil to taste, otherwise you run the risk of "jazz fusion," and no one wants that. Pour into two greased loaf pans and bake at 218 degrees Celsius, for two hours. Until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Ready for Progrock!

This recipe makes two loaves, enough for everyone!

{Toasted Black Spider Flesh Volume 1}

Coil - Either his, or Yours
Faust - Track 13
Kallabris - A3
Popol Vuh - Aguirre 1
Hawkwind - Be Yourself

Brainticket - Places of Light
Maurizio Bianchi and Telepherique - Emptiness
Agitation Free - You Play For Us Today
Flying Saucer Attack- She Moved Through the Fair/Destruction
Dirty Three - Feral

[Toasted Black Spider Flesh Volume 2]

Renzoku Shasatsuma - Whiter Shade of Pale
Amon Düül II - Kanaan
Diesel Guitars - Recorded Live At Osaka Zoukei Center No.1,Osaka Oct 1998
Can - Tango Whiskeyman
Pink Floyd - Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun
Biomechanoid - Voices
Circle - Gehtisalo
Loop - Shot Through with a Diamond
Gong - Part 32 Floating Anarchy
This Heat - The Fall of Saigon
Group 1850 - Hunger
Arzachel - Leg
Xhol Caravan - Side 1 First Day

Lurching Back To Life.

Happy 2009 everyone! I have arranged for a super-happy, totally oddball comp to be made available to you here. As it is back to the grind for many of us, I figured we could all use something completely light and dorky to fill our hear-holes.

Why would I put something like this together? Who knows. Take a splash in the bizarre waters with me.

{[The Daffy Codex]}

Black Randy & the Metrosquad : Idi Amin
Jim Henson : Tick Tock Sick
Jack Hammer : The Wiggling Fool
Thrown Ups : StockBoy, Superhero
Leonard Nimoy : The Ballad of Bilbo Baggins
The Diamonds : Batman, Wolfman, Frankenstein or Dracula
Negativland : The Perfect Cut (White Rabbit and a Dog Named Gidget)
Shirley Ellis : The Name Game
Tatsuta Naoki : Kazoku ga Ichiban
Eddie Noack : Psycho
The Kids of Widney High : Throw Away the Trash
ABC Announcer : Party Tape
Verne Langdon : Devil's Love
7-11 : Dance the Slurp
Gregory Corso : Bomb
Mr. Gasser and the Weirdos : Weirdo Wiggle
Raymond Scott : The Toy Trumpet
Dayglo Abortions : Stupid Songs
Mr. T : The Toughest Man in the World
Three Square : Fºúsëûs«ñ
Sound Effects : Laser Gun
Happy Flowers : I Wet the Bed Again
Clark Equipment : Hooray For Human Engineering
Bad News : Drink til I Die
The Monitors : Crazy Green Lizard
Sound Effects : When Worlds Collide
Announcer : 'The Raven' Promotion

Jackalopes Kill by Night!!

Fearsome nightcreeping jackalope, your unholy craving for hot human blood is both terrifying and revolting. Please stay away. Love, Krotpong