In B Flat

I felt like this was the sort of thing I could and should share here;

this is a gorgeous monument of the things of which we are capable now, in this both terrifying and wonderful moment of history, as we stand on the cusp of wholly uploading our brains to the internet, in the interim we get great collaborations like this:

http://www.inbflat.net/

it's part toy, part dashed-off internet collaboration, part showy technology, and part high art. i love it.

[if you're like me you will play with this until you've heard all of them, but make sure you listen to the spoken word bit three down on the left-hand column, it's really brilliant]

Three Cocktails for a Rainy Day

A Modest Proposal for Eggnog

1 whole egg
1 tablespoon sugar
1 wineglass of brandy
½ wineglass of Jamaican rum

Whip the above together in a heavy glass lined with poverty. Stir in hot hunger and overpopulation and do it thoroughly. Carefully fold in the flesh of an infant. Top with nutmeg.


Hobo Lexicon Iced Tea

2 yard donkeys of dago red
1 cinder dick of red eye
1 mumbly peg of Sneaky Pete
½ cat wagon of wind pudding
2 squares of freshly squeezed sop
½ fleabag of speedballs, to taste
2 wedges crotch crickets

Mix the hoppins with a bindle stick in a tomato can. Cover with the moon. Share with Johnny Hollow Legs on The Big Rock Candy Mountain.


Rollickin’ Revelations!

Juice of one white horse of conquest
Juice of one black horse of famine
Juice of one red horse of war
Juice of one pale horse of death
144,000 dashes of the lion and the lamb
1 ground beast
weeping and gnashing of teeth, for garnish

Layer. Repent.


(hi. i'm amber)

The Numero Group

The Numero Group is a clever little record label based in Chicago and ran by a group of friends. Numero is probably best known for creating and releasing series of compilations of eccentric soul music and hillbilly gospel tunes. They also reissue original albums found deep in their own personal collections, only after hitting the road to track down the should-have-been-stars and the stories and sounds of their forgotten music. Numero's tiny basement office is more like my dream library, overflowing with records, rare photographs and documentation of the times. These guys are researchers and they have dedicated their lives to the preservation of obscure recordings by artists with very little commercial success.

"Our collections exist to show the world things that they would not normally have encountered. Maybe it's gospel, maybe it's private folk or some subgenre or a nonexistent genre waiting to be discovered. Furthermore, it's no longer just about record digging, but instead, culture preservation. We want the story, the photos, the shit in the bottom of the drawer, and the bodies buried in the backyard.” - Ken Shipley, co-founder of the Numero Group

http://www.numerogroup.com/

...And who shall I say is calling?

Dear reader, a question:

When you die tragically young, what song do you want to be playing when the detectives/your loved ones find your body?

It's very important to set the mood. My answer changes often (which indecisiveness may be the only reason I am still alive) but one of my all-time favorite songs, and I think today a good choice for this is The Belldog by Cluster and Eno.

also Knee Play 5 from Einstein on the Beach.

I shouldn't think I'd want to go for anything overtly sad, I'd want it to be something cryptic, something to leave them wondering.

However, my top pick for this today --even though, honestly, it's a bit obvious -- goes to Leonard Cohen's "Who By Fire." take that as you will:

Band-Aids

Meth Teeth. In the dictionary it would look like this.((())))http://www.myspace.com/methteethmusic

Macaroni Salad

walt whitman believed with all his heart in phrenology -- that the physical size and shape of the brain determines intelligence, personality, etc. to that end, he had his brain donated for study upon his death.

initial measurements determined that it was slightly smaller than average, and before any other measurements could be taken or even any information was extrapolated based on the initial measurements, a lab assistant dropped his brain on the floor, and it was promptly thrown away.

presumably it would've been fine, but it landed in a corner, sticky side down (isn't that always the way) and probably came away with all sorts of unidentifiable fuzz (cat dander? human pubes?) attached. better safe than sorry, i always say.

hi. i'm tim.

Don Drinks His Way To Freedom

From a towel on a pyramid
Don drinks his way to freedom.

His feet use their toes
in the dragon wing spectrum.

Don drinks his way to freedom
from a towel on a pyramid.

There isn't a bird in sight
and Don needs one bad.

At first sight of a bird
Don drinks his way to freedom.

The bird gets pissed off and says
"where the fuck is my freedom."

Impersonator

Photo Credit: Backyard Bill

If I was playing one of those little kid memory games where you flip over cards and try to match dog with dog or grandpa with grandpa, and I turned this picture over, I'd spend the rest of the game hunting for Moe Tucker.

Staff Workout

We don't speak German and we only do the sexy moves.