The sound of confusion

Repetition

"...and then another 180!"

Best day of my life

The blood from the nose is what makes it!!!

proposed Stress Carrier logo!!!

Chuck

Five years ago my life was the lip of a cliff racing towards me. I turned 30 a year and a month ago. No cliff. Now I'm on a desert highway. I stand between two vanishing points equal distance apart. The Southern point behind me is great times, abusive danger, chemical questions, fear of losing bandmates, four hours sleep every night. The Northern point is taking risks, the unknown mystery of love and children, the end to emotional fascism/barbarism, and the genetic awakening of evolutionary freedom.

.....so dude! Happy Birthday! I love you man!! We party this weekend and next!! I'm an old man... you guys party too much!! Blaaarggghhh!!!

Here's the Birthday Party!!!

Ron Asheton

Ron Asheton of the Stooges died on January 6, 2009.

In the late sixties wake of hippiedom, he returned guitar playing to it's reductive state, which you can hear on the first Stooges album. Asheton played it like a percussive instrument and the results are absurdly astounding as he locked into a caveman rhythm with sibling and Stooges drummer, Scott Asheton. It was as much about jazz as it was about blues and garage punk. The thick distorted mess of tones (thanks to his too loud amp and John Cale's production) dwarfed the studio sound of most of the other rock acts of the time. When I listen to "The Stooges" I can hear the dimestore wah-wah fuzz pull itself out of my speakers by its pinkie fingers, slide onto my floor and boogie on it's back in some wretched fetal pose.

If the first lp was, is and always shall be a true Saturday night record, then the second album "Fun House", is was and always shall be the searing hangover. This the group's best offering (don't even come to me with that "Raw Power" shit. The album rules, but it's not Fun House). The first cut, "Down on the Street", is the spins on a hot night followed by "Loose", the sound of the embarrassing Frankenstein stumble to the bathroom. The album leaves you hunched over the porcelain in a fog of dreary-eyed self-loathing as it slows down for "Dirt". The rest is an overpowering blur.
I still can't get over how bright and crisp Asheton's guitar sounds amidst the boom and reverb. The chords were there, but they sort of swelled and pulsed in a way I still can't explain. It was on this album that Asheton showcased his fucking unholy solos. Back then, The Stooges's records had such a reputation of being so shitty, but holy shit! The boy could play some motherfucking evil solos. I'll never understand how this was such a hard pill to swallow in the seventies. Of course my eyes are wearing the rose-colored lenses of a post-Stooges world where their influence is predominant (as it was filtered and distilled to the masses in the late 70's guise of "Punk Rock").

Mr. Pop gets a lot of credit for the Stooges, but it would never have been the same without Ron Asheton's playing. His playing is often noted for it's primitive charm, but seldom gets proper praise for it's inventiveness, defiance and artistic beauty. "I Wanna be Your Dog" was the first riff I learned. I think every human being on earth should learn that riff because those three chords are so fucking empowering. I got supremely bummed when I heard of his passing and the for first time, I was somewhat affected by the death of a cultural icon. I am glad I got the chance to see the reunited Stooges a few years back. Hearing almost all of Fun House live was what normal people probably feel when they go to church. Rest in peace, Ron. Thanks for the jams.

Six Fingers of Doom!

Six Finger Satellite were one of my favorite bands of the 90's (in addition to the VSS, the Make Up and the Monorchid). As a young lad, my pappy (a really smart hippy who never stopped liking music after the 60's, an authority figure in my life who got "Punk Rock" and has the records to prove it) raised me on a steady diet of Wire, Gang of Four, Mission of Burma and Big Black. Grunge made sense to me in middle school and by the time I was in high school, the only shows in town were shitty hardcore/heavy metalcore gigs. I knew Six Finger Satellite were on Sub Pop, but I wrote them off as probably sounding like Fastbacks or Soundgarden.

Then Beavis and Butthead came along.

I thought that Mike Judge's B&B animated shorts were cool, but the show kind of went over my head initially. Later, it won me over, as it was a brutal critique of the adolescent junk culture that I loathed as a teenager. Beavis and Butthead were the kids I hated, but so was "Todd" and the idiot jocks they encountered.

I came across one episode where they lampooned Six Finger Satellite's "Palour Games" video. It was as fast as hardcore, but had the same post-punk structures that my daddy taught me. I bought the album ("Severe Exposure") as soon as possible. I knew someone out there wanted to play guitar as badly as my heroes taught me.

August 27th

Mr. Ridgeway's Voodoo

Wall of Voodoo can truly be L.A.'s version of the Fleshtones. Not as cool as the B-52's, not as dirty as the Cramps, not as tortured as the Gun Club. They had a good time, I guess. This point is obvious nowadays. "Mexican Radio" is their silly single (though I hope to write a piece of pop music as good). "Back in the Flesh," "Can't Make Love," and "Tomorrow" predate David Fincher's "Fight Club" in terms on culture rebellion, sexual roles, freedom as a commodity and social claustrophobia. I have nothing else to say. If you don't like what I say, then go listen to the Circle Jerks (who I love anyway).