No Chill-Out Room.

A delicious new compilation awaits you! This one is all tech-no flavored. Wrong-headed glitchy beat-slapping! Feel the burn!

~Paranoia Anthems~

Evolution Control Committee - Hello!
Alien Vampires - Ego Sum Qui Intus Habitat
Severed Heads - Anthem 82
Matt Winch - Transient Ischemia Attack
Anne Gillis - Lxgrn 11
Coil - Paranoid Inlay
Esplendor Geometrico - RotoR
Aphex Twin - 54 Cymru Beats
Front 242 - Kinetics
Ad Vanz Vs. Gescom - Viral
Bedouin Sound Clash - Turbo Auto Drive
The Boredoms - Arrow
Ativ - Horizon S1k
Diutesc - Killing Fields
Kid 606 - Juvenile Hall Roll Call
Skinny Puppy - Subskull
Skull Disco/Shackleton - Massacre

Grab it here.

"Follow Me Down..."

My infrequent posting continues! Here's a big bowl of noise that I've been kicking into my ears for for at least a week.

~Hard, ain't it Hard.~

Leadbelly - I'm on My Last Go-Round
Port O'Brien - In Vino Veritas
The Moles - Lonely Hearts Get What They Deserve
Dave Edwards and His Alabama Ramblers - Done Sold My Soul to the Devil
Country Teasers - C&W Song
Giant Sand - Center of the Universe
Johnnie Lee Wills - Devil's Blues
Ernest Tubb - Since the Black Cat Crossed My Path
The Weeds - Wheatfields
Thee Mighty Caesars - The Bay of Pigs
Willie Bryant and Orchestra - A Viper's Moan
The Handsome Family - These Golden Jewels
Woody Guthrie - Hard, ain't it Hard
The Cramps - I'm Five Years Ahead of My Time (live)
The Chills - Pink Frost
Love - Alone Again or...
"22" and Group - It Makes a Long-Time Man Feel Bad
The Pagans - Street Where Nobody Lives
Son House - Jinx Blues
The Gories - Nitroglycerin
The Pirates - Cuttin' Out
This Heat - A New Kind of Water
Leadbelly - Midnight Special

I haven't made a comp this good in a while. If you like, you may download it here. XO

BleEEeeaAuurghH!

As a server of intoxicating adult beverages, every two years or so I have to renew my alcohol seller's certification. Thanks to modern technology, I can do this in the comfort of my own home (hooray). Unfortunately, that adds up to around four hours of redundant, confusing, contradictory, condescending, vague horseshit. Not only that, but much of it is horseshit that I generally don't agree with.

Today was the day that I renewed my holy, booze-spewing vows to a faceless enforcement agency and let me tell you, I was unhappy about it. I look forward to this little ritual as much as I look forward to, say, having teeth pulled... or forced enemas... it's that bad. I don't recall any other activites involving computers and sitting that make me scream and holler as much as taking my certification course apparently does. I'm glad I was home alone so there was no one to hear my cries of "No fucking way!" "You've got to be fucking kidding me!" "Bullshit!" and the ever popular "What the fuck!?" along with all the absurd variations of those phrases that I come up with out of boredom and hatred.

I would try to explain in more detail the whys and whats that make me so frustrated/crazy about this process, but my wounds are too fresh and raw for me to put it all in proper perspective. And really, this has got to be one of the most boring ideas for a blog post that I have ever had.

Because I feel badly for having put you guys through all of my grousing, here is a linky for you. Once again, I am smacking you in the face with some Thrones, if you want it. I suggest you take me up on it.

Folksy Fucks Get Fragged.

Hm. I have a vision. What I would very much like to see is a cage-match, to the death, between local crotchety old coots Jim Swift and John Kelso. There should be some wooden rocking chairs in the cage, to be broken up and used as makeshift weapons. Yeah. The "winner" gets put on an ice floe and towed miles and miles out to sea, where the tow rope will be cut and the ship will return to port. It will be the greatest thing ever. I will buy a dvd of this event and watch it every Thanksgiving, just full of fucking thanks.

Sigh... I miss fall.

There are only so many days over 100 degrees that a sane person can take without going a little batty. I feel like I have beached and breached that limit oh... last week sometime. Maybe it was when I baked my poor brain during one of my extended bicycle jaunts that I take while the blast-furnace part of the day is still a-blasting. Maybe it was when I was hit ever so gently by a fucking truck last Wednesday, while it was 106. Meh...I'll just say that I'm sick of the heat. Thank Jesus we only have two, three months left of this, tops.

Here is some brain cooling music from the Thrones. Heavy, like the Chevy that I do not own. Grab it up, y'all.

Gah! Crabs!

Here is a little something I'm working on now. It's a skateboard deck for an artistic/rock and roll event on the 12th of July (link!). If you are in the area, come by and check it out. It should be completely nuts.

Also, in keeping with my last few posts, here is The Bug vs. Rootsman, the Killing Sound 2xlp. I promise that this will be the last Bug post, at least until they release something new. This is their most aggressive and least accessible album (which is saying a lot). Get it!

The Destruction of Squaresville.

Ahh the Intel Building... such a thorn in the side of our fair city. Partially built, then abandoned after the tech bust of 2001. It stood unfinished and an ugly eyesore until 2007, when I took this picture. Finally fucking finished forever! Fantastic!

If you are here reading this you should click on this linky here. There is some crazy Bug action on the other end of it. I need to put this up here because I am obsessed with this shit. Forgive me, and then download it posthaste. You won't regret it.

It Happened One Night.

Right before we closed the bar tonight, a drunken lady demanded to know what a Dirty Sanchez was. No one would tell her, not her friends, not the table next door... so it came down to me to explain it. I didn't go into a lot of detail, I just said that it involved anal sex...and mustaches...mustaches made with poop.

I have never seen a total stranger so crestfallen at something I said. It didn't feel like I was crushing her spirit, yet there I was, apparently crushing the shit out of it. Let this be a lesson to everyone. Once you learn something, it is very hard to unlearn it, so be careful what you ask for, o.k.?

At the Threshold.

Poor little neglected blog. How I do and don't seem to miss you... sigh... I suppose it is helpful that I am out and about these days. I was running pretty low on new experiences there for a while.

Being laid up with broken stuff is pretty demoralizing, I have to say. That, and Vicodin is a helluva drug. Doesn't do much for the concentration... or the inspiration, come to find out. Works pretty good on pain. That's about it, though... I say, don't get injured, anyone! It is teh suxx0r.

Anyway, I still plan to return to writing a little more regularly, it's just taking me some time to get comfortable again.

While you are here you might as well get this. Because it Rules.

Holy Sepulchre.

Jeez, sure is quiet around here...

Slime.

Pretty, pretty slime...

ZzzzZZztttttkCcZZZZtttk.

This is similar to the sound my brain makes (in my head) when I am very tired. Enjoy my sleepy brain.

Oh...

It's not Krampus time again, is it? No? Whew!

Breakfast.

It was delicious.

Scream Along with Mr. Krotpong!

I've been thinking about screaming for a good long while now. With that in mind, I went through my singles collection looking for that special something... by the time I was finished browsing, I had a stack of about sixty sexy singles sitting silently in front of me.

There was nothing too recent in the pile, some of the stuff even went back to the early nineties. I was totally unfamiliar with all of it. They were a mystery. Why did I buy them? I surely must have bought them for a reason. What could it be? I even consider myself a fan of more than a few of the bands in the pile, but I had never heard any of the stuff I pulled.

After some selective pruning, I tore it all down into a tidy thirty-eight thrashing, thorax-throttling, thunderous trax.

Tough times call for tough music... you're either listening to obscure grindcore, or masked hoodlums are burning down your house. That's how were living now, in these treacherous, taxing times. Violent, noisy deathcore needs to be coming through your speakers or you'll wake up in a bathtub full of iced tea with one or both of your precious kidneys removed and sold on the black market. The choice is yours.

Avoid Something Nasty

Nah, I'll take my chances

As an added bonus, here is what you get if you chose to truly live by downloading Salvation via screeching racket. Creative spelling and usage be damned.

{[{Bloodguster}]}

Raagg - Death of Last Species
Harsh - Obey
Hazardous Waste - Very Ill
Malefaction - Open Minded Confused
My Lai - American Rollback Conspiracy
Kontrovers - Krossa Sexismen
Beyond Description - Storm
Disprove - What You Said
Embittered - This Utopian Dream
Discript - Hige Fallen Down
Gasp - Sore for Days
L.i.E. - Legalize It!
Ice Nine - Steel Mesh World
Devoid of Faith - Cold Sore
Cavity - Gone About
Floor - Dead Wrong
16 - Ride the Snake
Thug - Cancer Causes Rats
Agents of Satan - Red Impulse
Maisie - Moving to Phoenix
Spazz - R.T.S.
King Brothers - Get on the Bus*+
Erosion - Revenge+
Gehenna - The Choking Sands+
Forced Expression - The Burning
Redrum - No Result
Sound Like Shit - Forest of Freedom
Man is the Bastard - Smile Trick
Deathreat - Runs Dry
Melt Banana - Get the Head Back
Man is the Bastard - Once Upon a ...
Hazardous Waste - Existence
D,R,Y, - Force
Riudo - Complomisos Escondidos
Cavity - Seine
Ansojuan - The Death Song Punk Ass Fuck
Asshole Parade - whither thou?
(In)Humanity - Victim in Pain

*All these tracks are new to me except for the King Brothers, who are awesome.
+ Came from records, not singles.

Reëmergence.

Hello again. Did you miss me? Wait... don't answer that. I was gone for a while there. There were some troubles... but now, it's better. So here I am, back in a-c-t-i-o-n! Thus begins the return of regular posting. Aren't you excited? I am. See you soon!

For the "Townies."

Michael Corcoran wrote some garbage! Got paid for it too, I bet. What a whiny little spoiled brat! I think someone needs a diaper change...

"You Can't Stop the Spring..."

In case no one has noticed, spring has done sproinked... at least around here it has. We'll probably get one more little cold snap, but after that, we're surely gonna step on that slow train to Sizzletown. As long as there is some more rain it won't be too bad, too soon. I'm hoping for less than forty days in a row of 100-plus degree days, unlike last year. Which was a year filled with a terrible, relentless, withering heat that went on and on and on and on, until everyone was homicidal, but too heat-exhausted to do anything about it.

Ha! Weather...

"Global Pupils Radiating Interference..."

I was working at the record store one fine summer's day, when Craig the indie buyer walks up to the counter with a record in his hand.

"Here, I don't know how I was able to score this, but I did. You need it." Then he hands me the record.

"Thanks," sez I, taking the record in hand. It was kind of an eyebrow-raising moment, because the record was the Homosexuals' Record. I put it in my stack, forgot about it for a while, bought it, took it home, forgot about it for...oh, about a year (I have a large collection of records, and it got lost in the shuffle).

I remember when I finally did pull it out of the stack. "Hmm, it's time I gave this a spin."

It instantly became one of my favorite and most listened-to records ever. Craig was right, bless his little black heart.

Fast-forward fourteen years (!), and here I am watching the Homosexuals play at my friend's record store. I never thought I would see the day. And they were great! There is nothing more invigoratin' than seeing an excellent live band, even moreso if I have loved that band for so many years.

They played at SXSW last year, with some dandy coverage by the always good, always entertaining WFMU's Beware of the Blog, but I missed them, due to being at work. I figured I would never have the chance to see them. So when I found out that they were playing here again, I brought my little recording rig.

Lucky for you guys who missed them, it's pretty good. Once more, I somewhat artlessly chopped it up into separate tracks, and added all the exif data that I could, but damn if it ain't a pretty righteous document. I've been listening to it all afternoon and on into the evening. The sound quality is better than WFMU's, in my humble opinion, more raw, not as flat sounding. Grab it up and see for yourself!

Wristpocalypse Now.

Ow, it's hurty. My cast/splint came off today. Yay! The staples came out. Alright! The pin stays in for another few weeks. Fucking boo! Oh well, on the road to recovery.

My Broken Wrist Odyssey.

Today begins a new phase in my journey to wrist recovery. Later this afternoon, my forearm will be freed from its plaster bandaged prison, and the pin holding my hand in place will be removed. I am hoping that this will be my last foray into the shiny, shitty world of surgery for a while.

When I return, just for laffs, I'll post some pretty pictures of my pre-pin pulled parts. Aren't you guys lucky! See you soon!

A Steamroller of Positivity this Way Comes.

I'm bringin' the Negative Step to you this one last time. The above is a flyer that I made for their very last show, so sad! There's a story behind it (of course!), and I will tell it to you... now.

About a week before this show, Negative Step played a house party. Joolie and I showed up a few minutes late, and they were mid-song. As we walked in the front door, they stopped playing just long enough for us to get a man-hug from August, which was awesome. Imagine if every show started that way... Hmmm, that might get annoying. Forget I mentioned it.

Anyway, the band resumed playing the hardest core, and I start looking at the crowd. Pretty normal mostly, except for the naked guy (he was wearing a cowboy hat). In between songs the naked guy mentioned that he "lived there" and naked was "how he partied." Who was I to disagree?

The music was fast and August was in top form, making quips, being funny. It was great, I was having an excellent time. I thought to myself, the only thing that would make this perfect is if there were some mindless, hilarious violence happening while the Step rocked like fuck.

It turns out, I didn't have to wait too long.

The folks watching the show had made a big semi-circle, to give the band plenty of room to stretch out. This was a house party, so there wasn't a "pit" as much as there were some folks who were dancing. Time marches on, and then it was just this kind of big-boned emo kid, by himself, dancing his awkward brains out.

At this moment, an epically drunken crusty punk attacked big emo, very limply. A standing wrestling match quickly devolved into rolling around on the filthy wooden floor. It looked funny, and we were all laughing. It soon became apparent that one of the participants in this little skirmish was trying to play for keeps. Believe it or not, it was the drunk punk (I know...didn't see that coming) who was trying to make the hurting happen.

We were all about to move in on drunky, when the crowd parted, and the naked guy comes charging through to save the day. He jumped on drunky's chest, and proceeded to beat the living daylights out of him. It was over in seconds. Then the naked guy leapt to his feet, said something about how people bringing fights into his house were bullshit, and disappeared back into the crowd.

If you have ever heard the words "never knew what hit him," this was a textbook example of that. Drunky got up swinging at the air. "Who hit me!?" he was yelling, as his face started to swell up. Everyone laughed at him until he left. The band finished up, and that was that. What a fantastic night!

The next day, August asked me to make the flyer for their last show, and so I did.

Even though I made the flyer, I couldn't go to the last hurrah of one of my favorite local H/C bands. I had to go to crappy old work. Luckily, my darling Joolie was kind enough to record the show for me on a cheap cassette recorder. I have digitized the whole show and posted it for your listening pleasure, get some!

When the Going Gets Tough...

...the tough get stabby. Hmm, this isn't as uplifting as I'd originally thought. At least thematically, it works pretty well with the last few posts I've put up. Drawing dead stuff tickles my fancy.

As for today's musical interlude, let us all chuckle along with the laffy audio shenannigans of Sweden's own Brainbombs! It just seemed appropriate. The tracklist is in the comments section, because sometimes words can hurt. Feel the twisted Rock Thunder!!!

Three cheers for Mr.Gutloaf, and his murderous zombie rampage powers!

P.S. Today you are going to have a choice in downloading options. Newcomer (and right now, superfast downloader) Mediafire, or rusty, trusty Rapidshare. We'll see how it goes...

A Delicate Pastime.

Sometimes, when the mood strikes me, I make paintings. This is one I did a few years ago, you know... for fun! No happy little trees for me though, only terrified creatures and giant horrible monsters. Now where's my PBS show?

Mud Stomping Time.

Part Six in a semi-chronological compendium of my artistic works assembled for musical accompaniment. Welcome to the anti-punk, punk stylings of Austin's own Negative Step!
My friend August is a steadfast, but strange individual. Once he sinks his teeth into an idea, for good or ill, he will not be denied or dissuaded, like some great, hairy, stubborn hyena with a taste for human blood.

For instance, when he was in Negative Step, he had this whole minimalism thing going on. He wanted all of the band's releases to look sparse (success!), and maybe kind of crappy. I had zero luck in trying to talk him out of some of his choices. So there's that. He's a very consistent fellow.

Also, he had a grim reapers killing punks thing. He's the only person I know who would start a (good) hardcore punk band, just to rail against hardcore punks.

All of Negative Step's (3) releases have simple, two color covers. There is the single that I did. There is a split single with Redrum, which I don't have a link for, but its cover is also a simple black and white drawing (of a grim reaper type holding a punk rocker's spiky head). And then there is this, which I have seen heralded (in the blogs) as one of the most inept album covers in all of punkdom. It just looks unfinished. Geordie is a good artist, even. I'm pretty sure it was all August's doing. Whenever I asked him "Hey, what's up with that cover?" he would just start laughing, and then never answer me.

The above was a drawing that I made for fun. When August saw it, he immediately wanted to use it for Negative Step's next release, somehow. Since Geordie had already done the covers, he decided it would be the insert. I agreed, and history was made (again).

Here you go. You need this, today. It is tuff and good. Well produced too! Enjoy that shit!

Handsapoppin'!

My wrist is singing a song of searing soreness. My wrist is a grinding, grotty goulash of gross gristle, glistening grotesquely in golden glowing lamp light. I, myself, am on the verge of a vogueish, rogueish, Vicodin volley. Concentration is for suckers.

Mister Wrister's Broken Fist.

This is a public service announcement...without guitars!

This coming Thursday I'll be going under the knife again for my broken-down wrist. While I will have lots of time to sit around at first, I imagine I will be on some serious painkillers (and in some serious pain), so posting may be light to completely unintelligible. This is just a heads-up, in case anyone was curious. See you soon!

Sap Story.

Number five in a series cataloging the musical releases I have done artwork for over the years. This is the non-chronological edition, because we are going further back than the last time I did this.This (or something resembling this) was supposed to be the cover for the Sap side of the Sap-Coward split lp from way back in 1997. As you can see from the above picture, it is not the cover.

My friend Ben, who was in Sap, wanted me to draw a dragon for their next record's cover. I wanted to do it, so I started doing little sketches. I was stoked, it would have been my first bit of art work for a full size album. I showed him a couple of them, but they weren't quite what he had in mind. Finally, I came up with one that was pretty close to what he wanted. I remember giving him a copy of the little drawing. I was going to do one more final version to make for a classy, economical design. A small drawing, silk screened in white ink on black album cover blanks. It would have looked fucking sharp.

A couple of days later, Ben comes in to the record store I was working at with this odd look on his face.

"The covers are already made."

I was astonished. "What do you mean? I haven't even finished with the drawing yet."

"Joey just did them and... well, they're done."

Done was correct. The covers were awful. Just awful. Joey was the guy who was putting out the record, and I guess it was ultimately his call to make something so lame. But yeeesh. This is what he went with. Oh well, it's not my label.

As a consolation, someone mucked up my little dragon and stuck it, along with a logo I designed onto the label when they pressed the records.

What makes me sad is that the record is pretty good. Even after all these years it still sounds fresh and exciting. Too bad for Sap, screwed by the cover.

The cover is supposed to be the shiny thing that grabs the attention, so that people will see it and want to buy it. Sure, the fans of the band will buy it, but what about the people who think Sap comes from trees and don't know squat about some tough prog-punk paired with some very doomy sounding sludge from Coward. What about all the strangers? Who's gonna buy something if it looks like it comes packed in cooked, dessicated shit on cardboard?

You should hear this thing. Am I wrong?

Everybody Wants Some!

For those of you who need some awesome today... there is this. Describing the wonderfulness at the end of that link would only spoil it. You're just going to have to trust me.

For the musical sputtering today we have the Original SS, some early raw hardcore from Japan (widely considered to be the first Japanese hardcore release ever) circa 1979. Fearsome, fast and just a touch over 12 minutes long, it's the sound of history. Hard to believe this is 30 years old.

Remember This Always.

The best advice I've ever received. Fittino Pocible...ahh, just imagine. Fittino Pocible...

Eyes of Horror.

Welcome to the weekend! Feeling a little quiet today. Quiet yet creepy, I guess. Luckily, I have found some good music to go along with this odd feeling. Popol Vuh made some of my favorite quiet time music ever. Some of their choicest bits have been soundtracks for director Werner Herzog. He directed the supremely creepy Nosferatu, with the always interesting Klaus Kinski as the dreaded vampyre, and which Popol Vuh churned out the eerie soundtrack to. It is here if you want it. Whew!

Missing the Good Doctor.

My custom H.S.T. figure!

I am a fan of Hunter S. Thompson. I'm a little weird about it. He shot himself four years ago today. I'm a little sad about it.

He stomped terra.

In honor of the Good Doctor, here is the long out of print audiobook for "Songs of the Doomed." Taken from the often bootlegged cassette tapes, it's three cds worth. Too much?

Songs
of the
Doomed

Look Away!

Too much goddamn Squeezinator. Sorry. I love it but it needs to stop now.

I AM THE SQUEEZELORD!!

GET SOME! I'LL SQUEEZE IT UP, BITCHES!

Fear me and my feats of repetitive hand strength! Also, fear my primitive, seizure-making, gif-creation powers! Hypnotically annoying... wait... annoyingly hypnotic... Fear! Also, Valentine's Day! Fear!

Back to Work.

Week number two of being back on the job. I'm good, feeling stronger with each passing day.

Tomorrow there will be tentative bicycling.

Please enjoy this picture of a deceased century plant.

Good night to all!

"Trouble in Mind..."

"...I’m blue. But I won’t be blue always,

I know the sun's gonna shine in my back door someday..."

You Can't Shit a Shitter.

Number four in a series regarding my involvment with the visual aspects of the audio endeavors of a few underground musical bands listed chronologically herein.

Negative Step on licky red wax. Accept no substitutes.

My friend August has been in many many bands, usually as the singer. Off the top of my head... let's see...Big Horny Hustler, Crown Roast, SSS, Filipino Wife, Society of Friends, Negative Step, part time live vocal duties in Iron Lung, Electric Eye, Lords of Light, Walls, Scilentist. Probably, I missed some. I'm also sure there have been many more since the last time he and I spoke.

At one point while August was still living in Austin, he was in this awesome throwback hardcore band called Negative Step. They had this raw, old-school thrash sound. So much fun to see live too, not as intense or precise as Society of Friends, but playful and snarky. They were a real joy to watch.

It came to pass that there was to be a split single between Negative Step, and Houston's finest, the Pretty Little Flowers. August had this idea about the cover. It was to have a snake on it. Not just any snake, but a very specific snake. It was the snake from the Gadsden Flag, don't ask me why, I don't know. We went around and around about it, and I drew some crazy snakes. Eventually, we came to the conclusion that we should just make a copy of the snake picture that he had.

Which is what we did for the cover. I traced the snake on a light box, and hand lettered the purposefully boring logo. For the inside, August said to "draw a grim reaper killing a punk rocker!" Ah, the easy part. This would also mark the last time that I would do a manual paste-up for anything, hooray!

As for the music, it fucking shreds. The Step side is fast, furious and frowny, with August's howling over the whole tinny mess. The Flowers side is more fully produced, brutal and quick. Even though I'm a little biased, I have to admit that I think the P.L.F. side wins in a very tight competition.

This is way out of print, but you can get this shit here, now! Yeah!

[{Negative Step-Pretty Little Flowers Split 7 Inch}]

Negative Step Side:

Core Memory

What You Pay For (by the F.U.s)
Respect (Redding)
Negative Step Theme
Dead in Two Capitols

Pretty Little Flowers Side

Indigenous Revolt
Embrace Your Failure
Nuclear Threat (by Violent Headache)
Apathetic Shithead

Holy Shit!

It's Friday, everyone. Be careful out there!

Frankenstein's Progress.

My busted chicken wing, now with more staples!

Fancy Gothbrace!

Just the Facts.

Here is the Buzzcrusher cover illustration, minus the paste-up. I like to share!

"Cut Off at Midnight"

Periodically, I produce pretty, putrescent pictures for the people. Come, gaze upon the shambling horror that is my art...

Cover number three by me!

My instructions for this project were something informal like, "I don't care dude, do whatever you like." Instructions like that give me pause, and I have to evaluate them carefully.

In this instance it worked out well, because the band really didn't care. Thankfully, they were totally pleased with the result. There have been other times where I had been told that I should "go wild" and then, when wildness happened, they got upset or were disappointed. That's why I like it better when there is some previously existing vision of how things should look or be done, a theme or an idea that I can work off of.

For example: "Draw a dude with a skull-head killing punk rockers." Done. What a clear vision. So easy! I'll even make the skull-head guy naked, with a tiny, flaccid penis, just to be funny.*

That's much better than leaving it up to me, having no interest in my development sketches or roughs, and then getting pissed off when I turn it in, because "Too many skulls." or "Too much... it's just too much." If you didn't want over the top yuck, why come to me?

I ramble... Back on topic, this single is pretty awesome. It's a little Poison Idea here, a little Discharge there, maybe a touch of Motörhead, kneaded and squeezed through a fine Texas Redneck strainer, and poured over ice to make a delicious punk-core hellbroth, fit for the whole family.

Besides the rock, the one other thing that makes this single near and dear to my heart, is that Buzzcrusher were made up primarily of bar staff... bartenders, barbacks and bouncers. Being a longtime bartender myself, it makes my heart fill up with precious, prideful blood to know that I had a hand in this.

Grab it up here.


*An actual poster design that was later made into a tshirt.

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