Strange Rivals - Proxy Wars EP

There have been a lot of truly excellent albums released this year, and a nice growing trend has been how many of them have been absolutely free. Coin Under Tongue released "Reception" in physical form, then decided to give it away shortly afterward. Celebration has been releasing their "Electric Tarot" album track by track for a few months now, also for free. Not to mention Beck's Record Club. This is all something I've been waiting to see for a long time, and not just because I'm a cheap bastard.

I think that in the information age we inhabit, music in and of itself is pretty much free whether we like it or not, we just pay for the choice of medium (since pretty much everything can be found on youtube, rapidshare, or some other google-able resource). It's become something certain artists choose to admit, making their digital releases teasers, incomplete demos, or just package-less companions to simultaneously-released lush physical versions, while other artists complain bitterly about the state of the industry and the need for pension funds. True, it is sad that most artists have to struggle a lot harder to get off the ground these days, but when the means by which to do it are so accessible, it becomes harder to applaud those who have done it in the past and not kept up with the current modes.

Strange Rivals is a reverb-soaked garage-informed trio from Brooklyn, NY, my hometown. Lead singer/guitarist Jeff Klonoski and I went to school together for a dozen years, and maybe that's why their sense of space so appeals to me--endless hours spent in silent Quaker meetings, where there was nothing to do except trip out on the boredom of existence. This band sounds deceptively world-weary, and yet there is a subdued ecstasy that builds within a number of their songs.

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The Body - All The Waters of the Earth Shall Turn to Blood

This album is a bit of a tough sell, and not necessarilly for the typical reasons. There is no shortage of innovative, driven songs, and there's plenty of atmosphere to spare. I shouldn't hold it against them, as my own reservations regarding this album are somewhat a mirror for the sludgier side of metal's larger ongoing issues. "Metal" has become a catchall genre for all things that deal with the darker, more badass side of rock 'n' roll. True, sometimes those darker things are unicorns and light-emitting sabres, but there is another side to metal, less informed by Hawkwind and Dio and more inspired by Flipper, Whitehouse, and Mayhem: bands that either know the line between good taste and bad taste but don't care, or bands that don't know, don't care, and spend most of their time trying to obliterate any notions of propriety lurking within their audience.
The Body come from this second school of thought, and are keen to show it. Their MySpace page is thevisionshallcometopass, and every picture of band members Lee (drums) and Chip (guitar) that doesn't show them playing live show them enacting some form of ritual violence, whether pointing shotguns out their window, proudly displaying their armory of large assault weapons, and dressing like medieval knights (as on the cover of this album). This album goes some very uncomfortable places, for example "Song of Sarin, the Brave" would be slightly less intimidating were it not for their avowed respect for Shoko Asahara, but the lyrics read like Trenchcoat Mafia scribblings:

“Prepare Sarin.
Inhale Sarin.
History teaches, but they will not forget what we have done.
The strength to shape and make, to justify love and murder.
Oh, my beautiful Sarin the brave.”

Honestly, I enjoy this music, and this mood. However, I can’t help but feel that a lot of this crosses the border from a healthy interest in humanity’s extremes to obsessive doom-mongering of the most plausible kind. I think anyone who consumes their entertainment in the commoditized way our society presents it would need to seriously desensitize, should they decide to actually participate in some sort of revolution. The lyrics on this album definitely present such a notion, as does the band’s general aesthetic, but I think it’s for the best that they don’t back it all up in any active way. Ultimately, I don’t think I care. It all adds up to a moving, convincing piece of work, and the fact that I find it almost too convincing at times means it’s all the more masterfully crafted. Only the best bands are capable of taking you to that place, especially once the surprise wears off and you’re still creeped out by it all.
I suppose my main issue with all of this is the line between reenactment and inspiration. When Vagina Dentata Organ released the Jonestown “Last Supper” album in 1984, they were making an offensive artistic statement, similar to Throbbing Gristle’s “Very Friendly” or “Slug Bait”. The difference between that and Whitehouse’s William Bennett screaming “It’s your right to kill, it’s in your fucking nature” lies in recognizing that it’s fun and creepy to revel in actual horror, but when you start exhorting other human beings to act based on that interest, you’re heading down the wrong path.
So I guess by that definition The Body stand firmly on the side of tastefulness—never telling their listeners what to do (with the notable exception of “Prepare Sarin. Inhale Sarin.”, which only the most stupid or masochistic would take literally), instead relating their worldview through the first-person. That may be an absurdly narrow view to take, but I think that there’s something fundamentally wrong with telling someone how to go about their life. When someone who admits to liking Charles Manson’s worldview is holding a gun and just doing their thing, that’s covered by Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. When that same person is advising me to prepare for the coming apocalypse (whether or not he’s engineering it himself), that’s where things get a little sticky.

I don’t think I’ve described the actual music yet. It’s good:

1. A Body - starts with about 5 minutes of all-female chorus before single-chord Earth-style guitar/drums and buried histrionic high-pitched screams join for the last two minutes.


2. A Curse - string drones and jittery post-punk guitar enter the picture, with strong drumming and more buried screaming. A true feat of production, this ends with a sludgy grindfest that manages to sound much louder than it really is.


3. Empty Hearth - opens with chanting from Elizabeth Clare Prophet’s Church Universal and Triumphant, which is used to maximum effect. Eerily enough, I had just heard the source material moments before listening to this album for the first time. It’s taken from a 20+ minute track that is more of the same mindless, breathless chanting. There are two main people leading the intonation: one male, one female, and for the couple of seconds where they drop out (I’m assuming to catch their breath), the sheer number of people that can be heard chanting along is overwhelming. The way that The Body use said source material is to underscore the intense charging rhythm and throw general sonic vomit into the proceedings, which gives it propulsion similar to This Heat’s “Horizontal Hold.” The detuned guitars and Viking-strength drums sound as though they’re tearing the congregation apart, so by the end of the song the glitches and pitch-shifts sound natural.


4. Even the Saints Knew Their Hour of Failure and Loss – the sustained choral tones that back the static, molasses guitar and leaden drums tint this song in a manner for which most bands normally use a flanger. The descending harmonies are done by three minutes in, which gives the song a premature denouement, allowing the final minutes of the song (all drums and distortion) to really feel like more of a release/freakout than an ending per se. This band’s shrieked vocals are unique, to say the least, but on this song they really stand out as necessary. Groaning, grunting, or gargling might work better on every other track on the album, but the wailing really works for this one.


5. Song of Sarin, the Brave – the fastest song on the album. Opens with feedback and shrieking, pummeled beneath the clomping drums. A mid-song spoken word breakdown derails things, which then progresses into the closest thing resembling rock melody on this album. Aside from the lyrics (which are hard to make out, anyway), this is actually one of the more comfortable-sounding tracks, and it doesn’t hurt that they actually rock out a little.


6. Ruiner – detuned delight. The guitar sound is really given a nice gritty undertone, with a glitchy moaning gurgle underpinning everything. The opening dirge is even repeated long enough to really give things a chance to shine, and after three minutes of build, is almost hummable.


7. Lathspell I Name You – at just under 14 minutes, the longest track on the album, which of course means time to stretch out and get expansive with their thung. Is that actual synthesizer buried at the beginning (I’m really not sure)? And saxophone (slightly more sure)? Maybe a string or two (yeah, I think so)? It’s doesn’t really matter, it’s tasteful but thankfully not really in your face. Even though it may seem like a misstep at first, by two minutes in, when they switch up the riff momentarily, everything sounds absolutely appropriate. And when the original theme is brought back with vocals and a chorus replacing the mini-orchestra, things really click. (Un)Fortunately(?) the song doesn’t really go anywhere for the next three minutes, slowly petering out. Then the guitar glitches out, everything slows to a crawl, and the moaning and retching intensifies. Things continue this way for a while, before a final blowout that features fuzzed-out drum-bashing and roto-tiller low-end guitar.

What makes this album so successful is that it manages to sound genuinely dangerous, something that metal often hints at without managing to reach, and when occasionally reached, usually lacks staying power. This album repeatedly disintegrates or changes direction in the middle of songs, which gives it a tension-and-release feel, making five minutes of nothing rewarding time and again. It seems industrial, in the same way a band like Mouthus or the Hospitals do. Industrial like a peaceful pastoral scene where the sky is brown, the water is red, and the fish are all belly up. In such a land, The Body could stand on a hillside wearing their armor, and know that there’s more to such an image than one truly brutal wedgie.

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Hungry Not Horny Are Horror Addicts! Pt. One

It's hard to not discuss our art film leanings like Brothers and Glover’s It Is Fine! Everything is Fine! or Jodorowsky's Santa Sangre. Or our surplus of 80s screwball (Big Trouble in Little China!). And what about Boxing Helena or Labyrinth for Godssakes?!! But we need to discuss what's important, maybe we should introduce ourselves: we are horror addicts. That doesn't mean we like just any old horreur flick, in fact it's probably the genre filled with the most garbage. But that's the pleasure - you have to work to find those gems and when you do it is worth it. Admittedly, some of these horror selections are ones we grew up watching so the tastes being represented come from a personal and not so objective stance; sometimes movies are just awful but you can't really tell because it was part of your upbringing and so you have it ingrained that this is what a movie should be like. A lot of people think that movies like the Saw series are where true horror is found and then there are those of us who were raised on the Sleepaway Camp trilogy and can't see the appeal of extreme violence without a camp-y undertone. In no particular order, these are some essential movies.

Uzumaki Higochinsky (2000)

Uzumaki means spiral in Japanese and that is exactly what is obsessively feared throughout this beautiful film. The effects are nearly seamless and so focusedly psychedelic: part of the anxiety that builds is that you think your eyes are playing tricks on you. You have to see this one to understand what the hell I'm talking about. I'm not sure you even need to understand what is being said in order to follow the plot, it's a very visual story.

Demons Lamberto Bava (1985)

I actually saw this one kind of late for a horror fiend like myself. This is one where I became addicted to certain scenes. Example: 4 hardcore* punks are driving down a neon-lit (80's) avenue in some Italian city. You know they're hardcore because they are listening to Go West's We Close Our Eyes. The punk girl in the back seat bounces to the beat whilst they pass a Coke can around and use the straw to snort its contents. The Coke can helps the ignorant watcher realize these ruffians are snorting coke. These deliberate 80's tactics used for storytelling keep me coming back. Watch this one at a party and it's a good time, but it alone still creeps me out.

*Side note: Something I absolutely love about the 80s, especially horror, is how much punks and other subculture peeps are represented. In these films, the punks are almost never listening to "punk" music but rather some random, and usually lame, pop song that needed promotion at the time. Another good example would be Lost Boys where all the badass teens go to a Tim Capello concert. A non-horror example would be the punk club in Pretty in Pink that Ducky, Molly and their older friend attend which plays the Stray Cats and English-Beat-style reggae/new wave.

Suspiria Dario Argento (1977)

What I love about Argento is that he brings you into this strange dubbed language world that really requires re-watching to get the swing of. Stepping into an Argento film cold can be a confusing experience to say the least. You leave feeling unsure of what you have seen. It was violent, that's for sure. Suspiria is his most artsy and well-known with reason; just watch the opening sequence. This film takes place at a boarding/ballet school, Suzy Banyon is one of the only Americans so she already feels like an outcast. It gets worse when she is targeted by the witches who run the school. Unfortunately, like most people in horror films, Suzy is stupid and curious about her evil caretakers, which drives along a visually-stunning story.

Phenomena aka Creepers Dario Argento (1985)

Argento continues his carnal tales of little girls and the torture bestowed upon them. Real feminist shit. At least this one is educational, ok? There are insects involved. Jennifer Corvino (Jennifer Connelly - oh yes, Labyrinth) attends a Swiss boarding school where she is viciously mocked by her classmates, they sense difference. Good thing she can call the insects (like calling the rocks?) and they'll come gross everyone out. This one has some seriously horrifying moments. No, Argento does not spare the children.

Black Sunday Mario Bava (1960) - father of Lamberto (Demons, keep up!)

This is what a horror movie should look like. Like Uzumaki in that you don't even need to have the sound on.

Return of the Living Dead Dan O'Bannon (1985) "Get the lights! Trash is taking her clothes off!!"

1985 seems like the magic year so far, yes/no? This trashy return to the land of government-faulted zombie existence is just tinged with the air of John Waters. The overacting, ridiculous (brilliant?) dialogue and generally campiness definitely sing of The Trashmaster (Waters) so of course I was hooked from the opening. Amazing 80's moments, tons of laughs but also a film that stays fun from beginning to end. No undisciplined lag to be found, a pretty tight film overall.

If only Return of the Living Dead II was better because this is one of my favorite 80's horror film posters. That and Blood Diner.

The Thing John Carpenter (1982)

Just when I was getting ready to turn this one off, there was the dog scene. The Thing takes place in the Antarctic and stars our 80's hero stud Kurt Russell. I always really liked Kurt Russell but truly fell for him in his self-deprecating role in Death Proof; Kurt should have won an award for Stuntman Mike. Anyway, The Thing has some incredibly intense times and maintains most of that unease throughout. The startling and awesomely violent special effects are in stark contrast to the bland white landscape - the Antarctic setting also plays a huge role in how these guys are able to fight against their intruder; the isolation is daunting but the only saving grace at the dark end. <<---- spoiler alert!

Slumber Party Massacre II Deborah Brock* (1987) "I wanna be your Tokyo convertible. I wanna have fun with yooooou! *deep voice* I just love goin' through the motions."

Rockabilly camp horror... there are a lot of words for this movie. Slumber Party Massacre I was quite a flop and nothing but a boring slasher while its sequel is, in contrast, wonderfully extreme and filled with bizarre choices on the director/writer's part; that's kind of like the Prom Night movies in that the first is a boring Jamie Lee Curtis slasher while Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night 2 takes the series in a hilariously campy direction. SLP II opens with our feature characters, a rowdy girl group named Wednesday Week. You can tell they're wild because sometimes they take off their tops and dance! The band's backup singer/guitarist, Courtney, keeps thinking she's hallucinating this peppy rockabilly singer who happens to yield a massive guitar/spiral saw that mutilates the cast of this film, and looks like it’s what 90% of what the budget for this film was spent on. Her sister was crazy (as in loony bin crazy) so she assumed she was going down the same path but then everyone ends up dying and Courtney has to face the cackling guitarist herself. The music in this film is so catchy, beware!

* Deborah Brock both wrote and directed Slumber Party Massacre II as well as Rock n' Roll High School Forever. It's funny that this was female written and directed - it's not exactly sex positive as you may gather from the poster art.

What should we be watching? You let us know! What are some of your favorite film posters?

The Disembodied Head of Robert Smith Watches Disapprovingly Over Us All

Andrew Zimmern, Stop Judging Me!

It's not necessarily visible here -
But you can see it a little here -
And even though they seem to have attempted to airbrush it out of every last picture of the fucker, you can definitely start to make it out here.
Seriously, what the fuck is up with Andrew Zimmern's crazily sun-damaged head? For all of his haughty condescension, he seems to have neglected his own suffering pate which is has developed into an entirely different ethnicity from the rest of his body. Poor baby, right? WRONG-O!! Anyone who turns every meal into a macho tolerance contest (and no, it's not just about trying exotic tastes with this dude) needs some serious karmic payback. And for all the bullshit such concepts are, it nonetheless pleases this author greatly to imagine said celebrity food critic having balded and turned into a chubby hairless penguin as reparation for his hideous attitude towards food. For example, during one Halloween episode, he invites fans of his show to his home for a party for one of the aforementioned macho tolerance contests. A female Zimmern-o-phile doesn't exactly swoon over the mostly insect-based fare, and when she says that she isn't used to the taste of something, Zimmern condescendingly responds, "we say 'that's interesting'". Now perhaps I'm nitpicking, but if you invite fans of your show to you home, that's already crossing a line most celebrities that visible avoid like the plague for seemingly good reason. Beyond that, he then treats his guests as though they would have no other reason to be there than to take part in the fare his show covers, which would be a fine enough premise, were not every single one of these devotees obviously unprepared for such an endeavor. That said, most--if not all--rise to the occasion and manage to choke down some food that generally seems more or less nauseating par-for-the-course cuisine for his show.
Honestly, though, I may have my extreme tastes in music, but at least I don't go about forcing them on anyone or looking down on them for not attempting to see the world through my ears. Not every person's palette (or digestive system, in extreme cases) can tolerate exotic fare, and certain fears are better confronted in other ways (he's a food critic, not a therapist, for YHWH's sake!).

Hungry Not Horny's Wing Round-Up - 1st Edition: "Fuck these Chickens!"

Wings were something that we became passionate about once we moved to Baltimore. There are so many places that serve wings and each restaurant seems to have their own take, or at least an attempt at standing out in the sea of crispy juicy spiciness. A general rule for wings is that they should be eaten as fresh as possible. Like any fried food, it's best straight out of the fryer. An oven can attempt to re-crisp your wings but it ain't the same. The meat can also get overcooked when re-heated, generally not worth it.

Our first venture into the land-o-wings was at Towson's Pickles and Chips. I (B!) randomly wanted some wings and they were pretty good from P n' C. This sparked the whole baby chicken drumstick frenzy. We were now off trying every shop's wings and came across some major winners as well as some sore losers. The search was worth it b/c now we know exactly where to pick up a badass set of wangs.

1220 East Joppa Road
Towson, MD 21286

The general Baltimore area loves them some Cluck-U. We had one in Towson but they closed down just as we were realizing their goodness. The range of sauces is great and they have tons of other fried options which perfectly compliment a well-cooked wing. Our only complaint would be that the outside of their wings are not always crispy. Occasionally had a few soggy ones. Even so, it's worth a few not-so-hot ones to get that good batch.

20 East Ordnance Rd.
Glen Burnie, MD 21060

We consider Buffalo Wild Wings to be the ultimate, the winner, the supreme master of our wing-obsessed lives. We say that with our heads partially lowered for two reasons the main one being that they are a corporate chain and we would rather promote small and/or independent businesses. The second reason is that there is basically nothing else that is good on their menu. The fries are ok. The drinks suck. I ordered a mojito which had no alcohol in it and when I told the waiter that neither one of us could taste any alcohol, he shrugged. Whatever, it was Tuesday night (45 cent wings, baby!) so the place was packed to the brim. We get their super hot wings every time, the milder ones are just less interesting. May we especially recommend Hot, Wild and Blazin'? Anyway, order an extra side of sauce, sour lemonade and some mediocre fries and enjoy! But stay away on Tuesday, it's annoying how packed it gets.

8200 Perry Hall Blvd.
Nottingham, MD 21236

Universal Subs and Pizza, not much to say about their wings. We tried the Thermonuclear and the habanero heat was awesome but the sauce lacked flavor, it was just super hot and salty. We've heard great things about Universal but we have yet to see what it's all about.

1700 Joan Ave
Parkville, MD 21234

Bill Bateman's Bistro wings are too chunky and they are definitely stingy on the sauce. The Atomic was nice and very hot but these wings just don't keep us coming back. Neither does the atmosphere. Is it just us or are the Towson students rude as shit? DO NOT listen to the hype about this place.

7800 York Road
Towson, MD 21204

Chili Man is gross and we won't try their wings. Their cheese sauce is sour (!?!!?) and the chili has a canned/dog food feel to it. You take business from Burger Bros but maybe you should after what we say next. Also, your restaurant stinks, literally.

18 Allegheny Avenue
Towson, MD 21204

We've gotten overcooked wings too many times from Burger Bros. Do people really enjoy chicken jerky that much? Your burgers rock but your fries are so oily tasting. We want to like you, too, but even Buffalo Wild Wings has acceptable fries. Then again, you aren't called Wings and Fries Bros.... Touche.

14 Allegheny Ave
Towson, MD 21204

Red Robin's Buzzard wings are pretty damn good. One of the more unique wing sauces out there on top of a perfectly crispy wing. An extra side of buzzard sauce, their steak fries... my keyboard just shorted out from all the drool. Unfortunately, there’s no variety in sauce, only the buzzard sauce and you can't make it any more or less spicy, even if you ask one of those evil RR waitresses. Just kidding, they're always way nice...even if they do sneak glass into the meals.

1238 Putty Hill Avenue
Towson, MD 21286

*Gag* TGI Friday's wings. Do not order the soggy salty mess they call wings at this establishment. I will give in that the ribs are good. Damn you corporate food, damn you and your delicious preservatives!

825 Dulaney Valley Road
Towson, MD 21204

The Roost, famous for lake trout (whiting) makes unbelievable fried wings. Dose heavily w/ the house hot sauce, enjoy until you can't no mo. The owner is incredibly friendly, and not in a creepy way!! We loved everything we ate here. Anthony Bourdain already said it all about this place, just deeply comforting delicious food.

5281 Reisterstown Rd
Baltimore, MD 21215

Seasons Pizza makes an ok wing. Some days are better (crispier) than others. The Hot sauce is heavy with vinegar and fills your sinuses as soon as the Styrofoam opens. The Extra Hot is not that much hotter than the Hot but is just less vinegar-y. Seasons and Universal do something that pisses us off--and it may be the snob that sunbathes very openly within the both of us, but they serve partial wings or wings with broken bones. We aren't big fans of jumbo wings (Batemans) but shards of bone or tiny deformed wings just aren't appealing. Since we tend to split orders of wings, one of us always gets left with the tiny "disabled" wing and that's just not fair! Quality control, please. Is that just us or do other people not want that either?

40 York Rd
Towson, MD 21204

Bubbas of Towson, meh. Flabby chicken skin does not exactly keep us coming back for more. And where was the sauce? We almost tasted some. With most of these wing places, we wish they would let us know that we should order extra sauce on the side.

905 York Road
Towson, MD 21204

Any ideas for where else we should be sampling wings? Suggestions are very welcome, especially places that specialize in wings, have multiple/range of sauces, or just randomly happen to have great wings. Let us know, we hungry!