Word Crimes, the Weird Al Yankovic song where Weird Al Yankovic tries to pretend he is Nirvana or Lady Googoo or whoever trying to pretend they are him, bluntly put, sucks. Continue Reading
Ya̧nomamö – Capitolo Due (Von Grimm Records) Continue Reading
When I first conceived of what you are about to read, I thought I was going to write a post about the music that I listened to whilst I was being treated in an acute-care mental health facility. However, without a context to hang it all on, I find that writing articles about music tends to get boring. And if I get really bored with writing something, I usually take that as a sign that what I am working on is probably not worth the effort. Continue Reading
Before we begin: This story, which is a sort of 1.1.3 draft, has been in the writing stage for roughly a month or so. It was started largely as an attempt to get the brain in gear once more, and gestated into something of its own, as you will see from the text. Whilst the woman represented by its primary heroine has given me permission to post this story for public view, this is in my mind on a trial basis.
Any commentary or feedback from the reading public is welcomed, but not necessarily adhered to. I hope you enjoy this piece. Continue Reading
Before I say anything else, I just want to be clear about the fact that media of all kinds, whether it be written, audio-visual, visual, or audio, pretty much defines my whole view of life. If you have read previous posts, you know that how I define my view of myself tends to involve drawing comparisons to fictional characters, especially the way that they are represented in television or film. As I like to talk about the small fraction of good things in my experiences and consciousness, it is therefore worth taking a moment to talk about the New York-based vocalist who goes by the name of Julie Christmas.
A couple of years ago, Julie released a solo album called The Bad Wife. The cover art for which you see in the picture attached to this entry. At first, this was being thought of by some segments of the press as a stop-gap to tide us over before the next Made Out Of Babies album. Hopefully now it will be the first of many powerful solo albums.
In storytelling, writers who wish to give advice to others who want to break into the market will often tell people things reflective of their own writing style. One thing that tends to be true is that one should get their reader’s attention as thoroughly as possible, and as quickly as possible. But my corollary to that advice is that one should never let out their strongest salvo at the very beginning. In that sense, both storytelling and musical performances are like a fight. A fight consists of numerous stages, just like a story or a piece of music. You never open with your strongest attack because your opponent will be at his strongest at the beginning of the fight, and thus more easily able to absorb it.
Ever since we began to build houses out of mud and stone, we Homo Sapiens have been concerned with questions about property. Property comes in many forms. Physical objects, animals, ideas, and even people can be property, although the last of those four is something nobody really wants to talk about or acknowledge in modern times. But what is important here is the manner in which property is exchanged. There are a few ways in which property is exchanged, and in order to understand the issue at hand, we need to go through them to some degree. Continue Reading
Apparently, the band that I found out about a couple of years ago and had albums of on infinite repeat for months at a time, Made Out Of Babies, is “FUCKING DEAD”, to quote Julie Christmas‘ Fudgebook page and the entry dated March 14. To call this a devastating blow is a bit of an understatement, although I kind of knew something was up when I considered that The Ruiner had been released in 2008 and after four years, the only MOOB-related thing we have seen is Christmas‘ solo album, a great little piece called The Bad Wife.
I ordered all three of Made Out Of Babies‘ albums on Compact Disc in December of last year. Two of them arrived in February or thereabouts. These being Trophy and The Ruiner. The second album, Coward, is still on what the distributors refer to as “back order” (in other words, “we are not anticipating getting it anytime soon”). Unfortunately, this is just the reality of buying music in Australia in this day and age. The market has literally become so cut-throat that the return on investment in distributing to countries that are distant and have as small a population as Australia is very minimal at best. So independently-distributed records generally have to be imported, entailing a greater amount of time and in some cases money.
Although Australia’s government has started to wake up to the futility of banning musical recordings, literature, or films, they really, really do not like bands like Made Out Of Babies. If you happen to be autistic, mentally ill, or just generally not mindless and sheepish, Australia does not like you in general. You conflict too much with their ridiculous “lucky country” rhetoric. As in, I wonder how lucky they would think they are if their population grew to the size of Germany’s overnight. And if there is one thing that Julie Christmas is good at, it is convincing the unwary listener that she really is having a nervous breakdown, and her bandmates simply put a microphone in front of her during the process.