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...exile on main str., the last real stones Lp re-imagined in a post NO WAVE style, decontructed and rebuilt only this time somewhat out of sync, the total essense of the stones country-soul-blues has been given a heavy doze of back alley urban blight...pussy galore are stressing out on short temper and cheap speed, this is much the sound of bad drugs and hangovers, kind of like if sonic youth could have dropped some of their (deserved) arty pretention and kicked out the jams like the velvets or the godz did back in the 60's they'd have got some way to grooving in this messed up way, DO-IT-NOW, not later...actually this restructuring of a classic seventies wax came about as sonic youth themselves were chatting on about redoing the 'white album' so pussy galore got up and got busy doing, not chatting, they took the stones dartford town blues and gave it a NYC mangling, spraying grease and grit all over the tunes and then sometimes attacking the tapes with a rusty shiv (a real live jook joint cut up)...shouting vernacular language here and there the combo work their way through a feedback splattered hour of heavy skronk, chaotic hazy smoked out slop, the way it should be, badly recorded for maximum damage, this will wreck the unsuspecting noodle, a dune buggy assault fueled on cheapo-cheapo generic bath-tub acid, crazed and slipping into a spasmodic coma with ugly hallucinations screaming their way into half lit dungeons of shakey dreams, full of longing and desperation, lurid daydreams that won't stop repeating, each time less discernible but no less real...the stones in their old age might not recognise it as their original creation though most likely keef could get a buzz once he'd come acclimatised to such messed up shenanigans, but take charlie patton from clarksdale 1929 and put him in NYC 1986 and he may well understand this unholy racket, the sound of the updated hick town drowning in itself, wallowing in stenching gutters and huddled in a heroin come down in a fifth floor cold water apartment where the rent man is as unwelcome as the cops...pussy show their post punk neo beatnik style through translating the FM radio of their younger years...
...dislocated and messed up blues, distressed and mangulated garage rocking, grungedout gronky avant noise with too much reefer and cheap beer flowing through for it to appeal to weirdbeard theorists...this is rock'n'roll falling down a 19th century elevator shaft with the whole shebang crashing and clattering head on against the cage doors at every floor in its descent...from one side to the other this rocking unit thrash and pummel their way into a hazy wobbly landscape where up is down and yesterday is gone but it's relative to the amount of bad drugs hurtling from the purple sky...some of the mostest boss slop to be put on tape in the 80's (which obviously was not a hard feat but that don't take away the solid fact that these cats could have been on ESP-Disk when it mattered) and makes for a hep and groovy time...a sort of mix up of bad nutmeg trips like the kind of swill that featured on 'pebbles3' (acid gallery) and free-spirit-jazz wailing, invocating some ancient voodoo mysticism from the back alleys of urban war zones...recommended for beatnix and hooligans plus others...
...coming on like a wired and wonderful mash up of bad drugs avant/rock this wax kicks up a ruckus that splatters noise into all parts of the known universe and beyond...cats digging the wild hep collage grunt of the early 70's version of 'destroy all monsters' and the d.i.y put together thud and screech of the godz will get a buzz off this 1990 take on the street swill underground sound that crops up every few years in various urban enclaves...parts lonerstoner basement rockin and NYC downtown NO Wave skronk and trancy acid blur, this will keep the lobes free of unwanted pollution as this mindblown slop gets under all wigs and infest all cranial areas...again would have been on the ESP Disk label back when these things were of concern to a few interested parties...has the rare ablility that all indulgent and singular grunge has, which is to seperate the heads from civilians within one minute (if not sooner)...
...exile on main str., the last real stones Lp re-imagined in a post NO WAVE style, decontructed and rebuilt only this time somewhat out of sync, the total essense of the stones country-soul-blues has been given a heavy doze of back alley urban blight...pussy galore are stressing out on short temper and cheap speed, this is much the sound of bad drugs and hangovers, kind of like if sonic youth could have dropped some of their (deserved) arty pretention and kicked out the jams like the velvets or the godz did back in the 60's they'd have got some way to grooving in this messed up way, DO-IT-NOW, not later...actually this restructuring of a classic seventies wax came about as sonic youth themselves were chatting on about redoing the 'white album' so pussy galore got up and got busy doing, not chatting, they took the stones dartford town blues and gave it a NYC mangling, spraying grease and grit all over the tunes and then sometimes attacking the tapes with a rusty shiv (a real live jook joint cut up)...shouting vernacular language here and there the combo work their way through a feedback splattered hour of heavy skronk, chaotic hazy smoked out slop, the way it should be, badly recorded for maximum damage, this will wreck the unsuspecting noodle, a dune buggy assault fueled on cheapo-cheapo generic bath-tub acid, crazed and slipping into a spasmodic coma with ugly hallucinations screaming their way into half lit dungeons of shakey dreams, full of longing and desperation, lurid daydreams that won't stop repeating, each time less discernible but no less real...the stones in their old age might not recognise it as their original creation though most likely keef could get a buzz once he'd come acclimatised to such messed up shenanigans, but take charlie patton from clarksdale 1929 and put him in NYC 1986 and he may well understand this unholy racket, the sound of the updated hick town drowning in itself, wallowing in stenching gutters and huddled in a heroin come down in a fifth floor cold water apartment where the rent man is as unwelcome as the cops...pussy show their post punk neo beatnik style through translating the FM radio of their younger years...
...dislocated and messed up blues, distressed and mangulated garage rocking, grungedout gronky avant noise with too much reefer and cheap beer flowing through for it to appeal to weirdbeard theorists...this is rock'n'roll falling down a 19th century elevator shaft with the whole shebang crashing and clattering head on against the cage doors at every floor in its descent...from one side to the other this rocking unit thrash and pummel their way into a hazy wobbly landscape where up is down and yesterday is gone but it's relative to the amount of bad drugs hurtling from the purple sky...some of the mostest boss slop to be put on tape in the 80's (which obviously was not a hard feat but that don't take away the solid fact that these cats could have been on ESP-Disk when it mattered) and makes for a hep and groovy time...a sort of mix up of bad nutmeg trips like the kind of swill that featured on 'pebbles3' (acid gallery) and free-spirit-jazz wailing, invocating some ancient voodoo mysticism from the back alleys of urban war zones...recommended for beatnix and hooligans plus others...
...coming on like a wired and wonderful mash up of bad drugs avant/rock this wax kicks up a ruckus that splatters noise into all parts of the known universe and beyond...cats digging the wild hep collage grunt of the early 70's version of 'destroy all monsters' and the d.i.y put together thud and screech of the godz will get a buzz off this 1990 take on the street swill underground sound that crops up every few years in various urban enclaves...parts lonerstoner basement rockin and NYC downtown NO Wave skronk and trancy acid blur, this will keep the lobes free of unwanted pollution as this mindblown slop gets under all wigs and infest all cranial areas...again would have been on the ESP Disk label back when these things were of concern to a few interested parties...has the rare ablility that all indulgent and singular grunge has, which is to seperate the heads from civilians within one minute (if not sooner)...
Hey guys/ searching for that PG release, am I mising a download link?
ReplyDeleteRegards/
mona, try the word exile at the beginning for link...
ReplyDeleteThanx guys, trez sneaky!
ReplyDeleteRegards/
enjoy the pussy version of exile, a true vision of the stones as young gunslingers, all rowdy but well meaning in their homage to the urban blues...
ReplyDelete