HAPPY WEEKEND!

You're welcome!

H8 BITS : bite-sized bundles of vitriol

-Dick Clark is dead. Normally when a man of my generation goes to sleep forever, I would doff my bowler and pee on his grave.  But this man deserves no such respect.  He stole the love of my life away from me.  That's right!!  You see her sitting there?? To the left of good ol' DICK!!! The one with the ribbon in her hair.  The picture seems harmless enough, right?  Well, I'll tell ya as soon as they were off the air he whisked Petunia Phendlebaum away in his cherry red Caddy and she was never seen again.  Now I'm not saying he murdered her, but.....well yeah basically I'm saying Dick Clark murdered my girlfriend and ate her remains.  See ya in Hell, you bastard.

-Hey look....So Many WizNards got written up in Stereogum. This is either proof that the Nards of Wiz are the next up & coming sweetheart band for all the Zygote Hipster Douchies to drool over, or its a sign that Stereogum is to the music world what the USFL is to professional football. I leave you to decide.

-I'm sick of hearing about this Jeff FLaRngum character.  I'm not sure who this is.  I tried FlaRn gum once. it was by that same company that makes Clove and Black Jack. Pretty gross. Ok that was a dumb joke, even for me.  In any event, I hear the guy is playing live shows again, rehashing songs from the 90's in an attempt to cash in on his fame.  STOP SPENDING LIKE A DRUNKEN SAILOR YOU HIPPIE!!  I did hear a rumor that all the dizzy dames love that guy though, and that they become sexually aggressive at his shows.  Don't let this opportunity pass you by, gents! If you can't get laid at a Jeff Mangum show, just pretend you're crying. Dames love vulnerability. Trojan should hand out specially made Mangum condoms outside his gigs. They'll be just like Magnums except very very tiny.  And they al lhave pictures of Anne Frank on the wrapper. Too soon?

-Ouch

-Does "back to our roots" mean that these FLaRny Hippies are reverting back to their primal hooting and hollering?  Because that was not music to my ears.  Is it just me or does early Animal Collective music sound like they locked a meth'd out monkey and a starving possum inside a dumpster filled with broken furniture?  Ok maybe its just me.

-It's good to see that constant touring for the past few years has really turned Bethy into a more sophisticated songwriter. And for the record, her Mexican chick guitarist looked hotter with long hair.

-Who's excited?

HAPPY WEEKEND!!!

Goddamn FLaRNtriloquists!

SHOW DENOUNCEMENT!!!

Heya Pallys!  If any of you were wondering about the next venue I plan on inhabiting, wonder no further!  How could I resist the luxurious chance to relive the smelly days of the Echo Curio via its red-headed sister-venue, HomeRoom? I mean, really!  Our good friend Geisssss will be playing.....


....GEEEIIIIIISSSSSSSS!!!!



It's like a verbal tic I have now.  I gotta scream it at the top of my voice every time I type it.  Anyway, Geissss will be going solo on a bill that I'm not too familiar with.  He's worth your time and money, even if he is a big fat communist!  Here's a dead-accurate quick capsule review of the rest of the bill for the night.

BODY FLaRnS -- From the looks of these Zygote bastards, they still haven't sprouted pubic hair.  Some of you hippies go ga-ga over such details.  Me?  I prefer overgrowth.  I come from a different time.  Despite their collectively bare mons-pubis, these crazy kids could very well be your cup of FLaRn!!

NORSE FLARN -- These Danish Black Metal-heads have been touring the world round for the past thirty five years.  They're huge in Australia and New Guinea.  They like it when you bring raw meat to throw at them during their set.  Join me.

ILOILO -- Dear iloilo, you have created a band name that is completely unFlaRNifyible.  That is an offense punishable by death, Jackson!!!!!  Are you guys a bunch of greazy Spaniards?  I bet you are.   Either that or you're a bunch of Eytalians.  Either way, you lose!!

Come on out and buy me drinks, children.

HAPPY WEEKEND!

THE HAMILTON PETERS INTERVIEW

So Mr. Hamilton Peters finally relented with the interview he promised me.  I initially gave him the choice of locale, but he kept insisting on here, and while he may be correct in stating that said venue is the only place where you can get a buttery nipple for under $3 (sometimes even free), my fragile heart can't handle the intense amounts of orgone energy that place produces.  So we finally just settled on the FLaRNtown/Union residency show at Casey's. 

X: Hey there, FLaRNsteader!


HP: Whatever.


X: Right off the bat you're gonna be grouchy? Look, I bought you a drink.


HP: Did you drug it?


X: Time will tell


HP: What is it?


X: Shirley Temple


HP: You're lucky I actually love this drink.


X: No surprise there


HP: You want some of my stuffed taters?


X: I don't eat fish


HP: What?


X: Alright, are you ready to do this thing, or what? 


HP: You feelin' alright?


X: Of course I do. Why?


HP: You look a little run down


X: Is that concern you're showing?


HP: No its a fact I'm stating. I don't wanna catch no old man flu or something


X: Look, a die-hard butter & egg man such as myself may fluctuate hither and thither, but when it comes down to game time, we morph into beast-mode. You feel me, right Hal?


HP: Hal?

X: OK let the interrogation begin!!!!  How long have you been an obsessive, elitist music enthusiast, and what got you interested in the art of dashing the hopes and dreams of aspiring artists the world round?

HP: Well first I'm gonna have to reject just about everything about that question, because I'm not an elitist and I'm definitely not an "enthusiast.”

X: Weirdo, then?

 HP: I'm an obsessive, about lots of things I guess--Latvian pornography, the connection between Acutane and suicidal depression, the Garfield assassination--

X: Garfield, eh?  I would peg you for a Mckinley man, myself.

HP: Mckinley was a putz! 

X: He fought in the Civil War, not to mention the fact that he led our country to victory in the Spanish American War!!  He was a razor sharp warrior!

HP: If he was so goddamn sharp, then why did he get killed in Buffalo?! 

X: HE WAS SPEAKING AT THE PAN AM EXPO, YOU FLARNTRARIAN!!! 

HP: ANYWAY, before you interrupted my sentence, I was about to say that I’m not really an obsessive regarding music. Sure I got a f@#king bigger vinyl collection than you got, and I got refined tastes, but I don't think that makes me obsessed. I just like to get jacked on hard lemonade and go out and haunt weird old second-hand shops where I just buy every record they got, generally cuz they sell them for like ten cents each, and for every 100 "Dancin' Johnson" by Ray J. Johnsons, you'll stumble on some Throbbing Gristle or something. Though that's kind of a bad example cuz "Dancin' Johnson" is pretty superb if you accept it on its own terms. But you know what I mean.

X: No, I have no idea what the FLaRN you’re talking about.

HP: And c'mon old man, I got no interest in dashing the hopes and dreams of aspiring artists. The people whose hopes and dreams I dash when I write on your blog ain't aspiring artists. They're just losers who couldn't get laid on their own merits and so they decided to start bands to trick people into making contact with their genitals.

X: Didn’t you try that once?

HP: Only once, but it don’t count! I was twelve and I played an accordion with my best friend who played the clarinet. 

X: So you’d just destroy aspiring musicians dreams?

HP: They ain’t aspiring musicians. I dash the hopes and dreams of aspiring sex-havers, and why wouldn't I be interested in that? Jeez.

X: Whatever you say!  Let’s move on. Tell us a little about yourself.

HP: Like what?

X: JESUS!! Do I really have to hold your hand? You know the drill. Give us a quick-capsule review of how you came to be one of my most important minions.  

HP: Minion?

X: YES! Where are you from originally?  How did you end up following the music over here if you're stationed in Pomona?  

HP: Why don't you tell 'em? You know the story as well as I do. I was f@#king around on the internet one night and drinking my favorite malt beverages and I fell down one of those worldwide web rabbit holes where I started out looking for photos of 1970s Eastern Bloc pubic hair and somehow I ended up on the Buzzbands blog. Don't ask me how. Anyways I saw that someone named X had left a kind of cool, well-deserved hateful comment on one of the posts there, so I clicked on X's name and it linked me to your blog, and I gotta be honest, it was pretty disappointing.

X: What the hell did you just say?

HP: For someone who claims to be a hater you were showing way to much kindness with a heaping side of a sort of winky, cutesy, look-at-me-ain't-I-a-stinker bullflop.

X: Unlike you I’m not completely heartless, you turd-swallower!

HP: It was all too darn good-natured. So I sent you an email telling you that you needed to learn how to really, really bring the hate and you wrote me back and said that if I thought of myself as such a "tumescent fount of vitriol" then I should contribute. So I did. And my contribution hurt too many feelings I guess, so you banned me. Then you realized how boring your stupid blog was without me, so you invited me back. 

X: I created the universe you thrive in, just remember that, you pee-hole!

HP: Whatever. 

X: Where the FLaRn were you born?

HP: I'm from Pomona originally. Grew up here, went to school here, got a job here. Don't really want to go anywhere else. What's the point? I can't even get meth-mouthed Inland Empire tramps to sleep with me, so I doubt the chicks in Los Angeles or Paris would be any more accommodating. 

X: Sounds like a personal problem.  But the music is a joke over there.  Why not move over here where the music is slightly less FLaRNey?

HP: What makes you think I follow music in Los Angeles? The only music I follow is what's in my own head. The only reason I ever listen to the bland and derivative bands that are noise-polluting your neighborhood is as a favor to you. I never even would've heard of the Airborne Toxic Events if you hadn't sent me their video, and they're apparently quite a big deal or something.

X: It’s imperative you are versed on all the cancerous cultural anomalies that pop up around you.

HP: I do have to admit that there was a time years ago when I heard enough about LA actually having an interesting music scene going on that I got kind of intrigued. Lots of young creative people coming together to make something that's all beautiful and new or what have you. So I drove to Echo Park after work on a Monday and went to a show  and...let's just say it was a rough night. Maybe the worst night of my life. As far as the music goes, I felt like I was back at My Gym except there was a lot more cocaine.

X: Where did you go in Echo Park?

HP: I don’t wanna talk about it.

X: Why not?

HP: I said I don’t wanna—

X: Just tell me the name of the venue, jerk!

HP: Sigh…Pehrspace.

X: On a Monday? You went to Sean FLaRnage night?

HP: That’s all I’m giving you, old man!

X: Fine fine. I dunno why you’re so touchy about—

HP: JUST DROP IT!!!

X: Fine, Jesus Mary and Elvis! Moving on.  You and I have something in common in that we seem to be the only people in this city who feel it necessary to offer a dissenting voice in the LA music scene.  What are your thoughts on the way the local scenes are evolving and progressing?

HP: I think I probably take a longer view on this question than most of the dickless weirdos you ask. For better or worse LA was a hotbed of drugged out creativity in the '60s. In the '70s and '80s it saved punk and kept it weird and dangerous. Later it invented gangsta rap. But jeez louise, based on the stuff you send and the stuff I see on the Buzzbands blog or whatever, today's bands are happy to just ingest the feces of their local ancestors and spew it out as some sort of tired barf-poop hybrid that they try to pass off as the next thing in music. I guess this is evolution but I don't think it's progress.

X: See? I spend all this time putting up with your putrescent driveling and then you go ahead and say stuff like that and totally redeem yourself. Well played!  Do you feel better?

HP: Not really?

X: Good. Now you often mention your bouts with loneliness and depression.

HP: The F@#k are you talking about?

X: Come now, son.  You’re not fooling anyone. 

HP: You must be reading way too deep between the lines, Haterus. Or maybe you're just projecting, cuz loneliness and depression? That ain't me. Just cuz I'm a loner don't mean I'm lonely. I know I'm an ogre who's mostly unfit for human companionship and that's just fine. I have my hard lemonade and my Kate Bush poster and that's gonna have to be enough for me. Ya hear me? I'm not depressed, I'm self-aware. There's a big difference.

X:  Is this a byproduct of your intense affinity for G.G. Allin?  

HP: GG Allin has nothing to do with it. The fact that he was a prophet hasn't got nothing to do with me.

X: A prophet?  He ate his turds, kid? You ever see that footage of the girl peeing in his mouth for his birthday?

HP: Yeah, so?

X: Yeah so……Mother of Mercy! Ehhh….Ok how about your obsession with Paramore?  One might say that an elitist who loves Paramore is a hypocritical scat-muncher. Your thoughts?

HP: Like I told you before I ain't an elitist. You're the elitist for being too blinded by your so-called hate to be able to recognize that Parmore is one of the only groups out there that knows how to write a perfect pop song.

X: Oh now I’m a hater. Just a minute ago you were calling me soft.

HP: Except when it comes to Paramore!!! Years ago I was driving my little sister Madison Peters to school and on a whim I let her pick the radio station and the last thing I expected was to hear that kind of perfection coming out of my speakers. I asked Madison who it was and she said it was a super-lame band called Paramore. I pulled over and explained to her point by point why she was wrong and why she herself was the super-lame one and why this Paramore group was actually super-awesome. It made her late for school but I think I taught her more than she would have learned in f@#king sex-ed or whatever it was she missed. 

X: You should be ashamed of yourself. Let’s move on, shall we? Who are your top 3 favorite ACTIVE local bands?

HP: Heh heh, nice try. Are Flo and Eddie still around?

X: Answer the damn question!

HP: Moving on.

X: Don’t do what all those FLaRNy bands do to me, do ya hear?  I expect more from you. Who are your top 3 favorite local bands who have since disbanded?

HP: The Germs, N.W.A., The Go-Go's.

WX: The FLaRNms?  Pat Smear wears dresses for godsake!

HP: So?

X: Well, I give you points on the Go Go’s.  Those girls were insatiable groupie-mongers in their prime.  Next question. Who, in your opinion, are the top 3 most overrated bands in Los Angeles?

HP: Who are the 3 highest rated bands in Los Angeles?

X: Well played. Next, if you could interview any currently active band...either local or national, who would it be and why?  

HP: Paramore.

X: Jesus, enough with the Paramore!!

HP: What? I want to prove to the doubters that they know exactly what they're up to and how important their music is and that they have a deep appreciation for their place in the history of popular song.

X: Fine. Paramore.  If you feel secure enough to stand by that answer, well….fine.  Next. To what extent do you agree with my conclusion that Los Angeles is a dead-star-black-hole-wasteland teeming with vile musical putrescence?

HP: You're the expert. The better question is to what degree do you agree with your conclusion? I think you're a secret softy. 

X: This softee is about to serve a cane right into your grill if you don’t shut that tartar-ravaged mouth of yours! Lastly, can you extract anything from your little drugged out, communism-addled, granola-clogged minds that might convince me that your group transcends the stale garbage being peddled by your peers as "music"?

HP:  I don't make music, you senile old dunce. You're reading off the wrong question card.

X: Whah? Whadaya mean you don’t make music?

HP: Are you F@%$ing with me right now?

X: Paramore?

HP: Umm….right.

X: I’m sorry I get confused sometimes, Harrison.

HP: Hamilton.

X: Right. Lets just move to the LIGHTNING ROUND.

HP: Ok

X: The Airborne Toxic Event: horrible band OR musical AIDS?

HP: AIDS jokes are lazy. Horrible band.

X: Spoken like someone in need of an AZT break. Next. No Age: next local band to break OR Commie bastards?

HP: They haven't broken yet? Or do you mean break as in "fall apart" or "become inoperable"? If that's what you mean, I hope so. They should just stop messing around and have a dog bark over their music. It would be equally as pleasurable as their singing. Anyway. Commie bastards.

X: Next. Lord Growing: second best blogger OR Boner-Grinder?

HP: Never would have heard of the guy if it weren't for your weirdo rivalry/love affair with him. I've only ever been able to read like the first two sentences of any given post of his before I get bored. So he's defo a boner-grinder. Seems like the kind of guy who only goes to concerts for the frottage opportunities. 

X: Watch it there, buster. That guy gave me my big break.

HP: Break, as in fall apart?

X: Shut it.  Next, and this is important, so think carefully before answering.  Hater X: mad genius OR like a father to you?

HP: If you knew my father--Bushrod Peters, USMC--then you'd know that like a father to me is the last thing I'd want anyone to be. So I'll say mad genius even though we both know I don't believe it.

X: You don’t?

HP: No.

X: Not even a little?

HP: You amuse me. That is all.

X: FINE!!!  Mouse from Classical Geek Theater:  Flim-Flammer OR domesticated pet rapist?

HP: I don't know who that is and I refuse to find out.

X: You should. Nice kid.  A bit weird about his cats, though. Next.  Manhattan Murder Mystery: future local legends OR swamp dwelling hillbillies?

HP: Even you seem to secretly like those guys which is one major sign that you ain't as tough as you pretend. Swamp dwelling hillbillies is being waaaaay too kind.

X: Next. Torches In Trees: Quality music OR Zygote Hippie Scum?

HP: You sent me one of their videos to review once and I couldn't sit through it, so I guess they're gonna have to be zygote hippie scum with a "sexy bassist" caveat.

X: She’s mine. Step off. Moving on. The Pity Party: bad to the bone OR squirrel fuckers? 

HP: Does that band really exist? I thought they were some sort of unpleasant urban legend.

X: They might as well be.  Those little bastards won’t return my phone calls.  Jerks. Next. The Lonely Wild: great tunes OR fart smell??

HP: Great tunes! Of course I've never heard any of their songs, but I'm sure they're a groundbreaking encapsulation of everything that came before and at the same time they blaze a new trail for music to take deep into the 21st century. Everyone who hears them is swiftly brought to orgasm. 

X: Heheh!  Moving on. Kevin Bronson of BuzzbandsLA: the origin of sin OR the origin of origins?

HP: Seems to know what he's doing. I wouldn't want to have to pretend to appreciate three or four new bands every day. I'd rather get my balls waxed three or four times every day. So I give him mad props. Origin of origins, I guess.

X: We’re getting close to the end.

HP: Thank Christ.

X: Scott of Surfing on Steam: Smarter than he looks OR Homunculus Mongoloid?

HP: Is he the guy who came up with the word "chillwave"? That guy's ok.

X: No that was the two gentlemen who star in Portlandia. Last but not least.....Harold Arlen: great songwriter or greatest songwriter?

HP: He gave my grandmother the clap. Besides that I can admit he was a great songwriter.

X: Take it back.

HP: Take what back, I said he was a great songwri—

X: TAKE IT BACK YOU LOVELESS TROGLODYTE!!!!

HP: Fine.

X: FINE!!

HP: I’M OUTTA HERE!!!

X: GET OUT!!   You going to call me on Monday though, right?

HAPPY FRIDAY!!!

The Ed Wynn show, live with the Three Stooges and more! from Rodney Brooks on Vimeo.