akmed

i'm of the opinion that red liz, the big fat fraud, is never going to give it up-narcissistic personality disorder and all. white liberal scold privilege to lie like drunk sailors whenever the spirit or drift of their campaign moves them with that extra heaping helping of self-righteous twat ladled on the top. but here's an excellent response to lizzie's self-induced melt down from someone with documented cherokee heritage and active involvement in that family heritage.

from Twila Barnes: Thoughts From Polly's Granddaughter blog. all sorts of awesome.

"Are we suppose to believe that an elite lawyer knows nothing of the burden of proof?"

http://www.pollysgranddaughter.com/2012/05/letter-to-elizaeth-warren.html

(but i want to.)

first morrissey was coming over and now this:

central square (but old 1980's central square before honkey suburbanized banal commodification . the gap. $tarfuck$.) and someone (who shall not be named) is loading all their synths and keyboards (in road cases, though) into a dumpster that's sitting on a flat bed truck.

after watching this for a bit, i go off to a dark dungeon of a kitchen where i supposedly work and make a sheet cake which i do not finish decorating. going home to sleep , i walk by a synth graveyard, where all the thrown out instruments are sitting forlornly, uncrated in the rain in an abandoned lot.

switched off bach:



the now sound of 1906:



the trautonium was invented in 1929. you can hear it in hitchcock's " the birds".

(translation click on cc):

http://youtu.be/uaWrdbvhg1Q



it always just comes back to bach:

a proud day for the bay state.

Quinobequin (aka the Charles River) Follies: Lying Commie Cracker Edition.

i know i love going through people's record collections. how about virtually going through john peel's crates? pretty fucking awesome:

http://thespace.org/content/s000004u/albums/

while i'm taking a bath- which is an impossibility in this apartment- someone is at the door then stuffing his face in the mail flap saying i better hurry up because morrissey, as promised, is coming over.

actually, i didn't recall he had agreed to a visit or that i would have ever asked for him to so i tell them to stall while i vacuum and change the cat litter. ( i guess it's a good thing mozz likes the, uh, pussy...)



someone is in the apartment with me. i don't know who it is but they're not helping much as i vacuum some rug i do not recognize. before you know it morrissey is at the door and my hair -which has grown mysteriously 80's televangelist large- is a mess and the litter it still needs a- changing.

i wake up with a cat staring at me probably wondering where the lead singer of the smiths is.

this is what happens when you drink espresso and catalogue bizarre 78s all night long.

florrie forde/ take me back to dear old blighty 1917

gang rape, murdering the copts, and now this:


"Taking advantage of Egypt's political upheaval, thieves have gone on a treasure hunt with a spree of illegal digging, preying on the country's ancient pharaonic heritage.

Illegal digs near ancient temples and in isolated desert sites have swelled a staggering 100-fold over the past 16 months since a popular uprising toppled Hosni Mubarak's 29-year regime and security fell apart in many areas as police simply stopped doing their jobs. The pillaging comes on top of a wave of break-ins last year at archaeological storehouses — and even at Cairo's famed Egyptian Museum, the country's biggest repository of pharaonic artifacts...

The night of Jan. 28, thieves broke into the Egyptian Museum, located on the edge of Tahrir Square, the epicenter of the anti-regime uprising and scene of some of the bloodiest clashes between protesters and Mubarak's hated police. The robbers made off with 51 pieces that were on display — of which 29 have since been recovered. The most valuable stolen piece, a statue of the Pharaoh Akhenaten, was found by a 16-year-old protester and his family returned it to the museum, the antiquities ministry said at the time."

http://abcnews.go.com/International/wireStory/egypt-turmoil-thieves-hunt-pharaonic-treasures-16334929#.T66a7p9YuHc

i'm not even halfway through the Great Alphabetizing and already i need another 500 inner sleeves for all the dull soulless dance music missing their underthings. just how fucked up was i to loose all those inner sleeves? passed out on the floor of the booth, oh, that never ever happened.

at least everything appears to be in the right jacket which if i recall was a bit of a problem. and because i didn't opt to pour vodka over records to clean them in the heat of the segue like some other blind drunk, coked up djs, they appear in ok condition save for some cue burn here and there. vinyl quality tended to suck in the 80s-very much a problem.

at least all the 12 inch records no longer smell like cigarettes, beer, and regrets from being stored at the club."one too many nights in the dick palace', as friends long gone would have said.

this song was a favorite among the industrial butch hardasses of boy night-hopeless romantics each and every one. completely fucking ghey. stephen 'tin tin' duffy was sued by the estate of the cartoonist who created the francophone comique of the same name. duffy was an original and founding member of duran duran.

kiss me/ stephen 'tin tin'duffy, 1985:


huge hit. what a fuzzy, heart-felt romantic time it was -if one was to judge from these sorts of songs. always reminds me of the 1270 and axis. the bass line is from a roland tb 303 which would make a blazing comeback in acid house music. they were previously part of human league.

let me go!/ heaven 17, 1982:


definitely a 1270 song. miss prima nina in ekstasy.

universal radio/ nina hagen, 1985:


more music that was dance floor filler that they never play at an 80s night perhaps because the audience for 80s nights are not of the generation that produced and actually danced to the music in a club when it was released. so many of us died. no one is left to remember.

braver and more innovative than madonna could ever have dreamed of being.

new york, new york/ nina hagen ( "we are going disco!")1983:


and because i can: her cover of 'lucky number' by another of the legendary mothers of all things and creatures punque rocques et gothiques, lene lovich:

wir leben immer... noch, 1979:


and, yes, 'new toy' was a dance hit. i unreservedly love this woman. my mother loathed 'lucky number'- and i tortured her with it daily as a surly youth. lene wrote disco dolly cerrone's hit 'supernature'. thomas dolby wrote 'new toy'. a drag routine/hommage begging to be done for the 3 people that will get it.

"did i ask for your love?"
lene lovich/ new toy 1981:


ministry's rather sappy boy band-ish beginnings. cute outfits and tweeeeeeee. very twink but, then again, it was a very twink time. love the accent.

i wanted to tell her/ ministry, 1983:


one of the greatest voices of the 80's dance floor- and her laugh is still sampled. there were only a handful of people at her concert in boston a few years back which was simply criminal. alison moyet and vince clarke:

state farm/ yaz,1983:


just an exquisite love song from a time that did not produce many of them that rose above icky cloying schmaltz.

ode to boy/ yaz,1983:


big axis hit although i know them also from their connection to the traditional greek/rembetika musicians i was hanging with in the mid 90s.

hamam(swiss mix)/annabouboula, circa 1986:


previously in medium, medium:

shake the mind/c cat trance, 1986:


sporters. sigh. produced by cocktail twin robin guthrie and containing members of dead can dance and this mortal coil. classic under rated synth dance track. a personal favorite that feels very much like the end of an era.

rains on me/ heavenly bodies,1988:


more hopeless romanticism. vince clarke is a genius.

oh, l'amour/ erasure, 1986:


when we all know it ends like this:

who needs love like that/erasure,1986:


massive massive tune. 1270. inspired prince's classic 'erotic city' and still sampled. huge crossover as it made the r&b charts. but music was more fluid then with dance hits by all colors of people populating all the charts.

white horse/ laid back, 1983:


power. force. motion .drive. another 1270 song. another zzt production. one of the members was in industrial band die krupps:

p-machinery/propaganda,1985:


propaganda had the balls to cover throbbing gristle on tv. 1984.



"why does it hurt when my heart misses the beat?"
dr.mabuse/ propaganda, 1984:

speaking of satan- was forced to drag raging bitch face from hell aka miss lucie to the vet (which requires about the same amount of planning and nearly as many able bodied men as d-day)because her prescription expired. this sent the week into a spin of fail because after i placed the order the pharmacy neglected to tell me that the vet denied a refill . apparently i was required by law to be jacked for a few bucks for an appointment before the medicine my cat needs to keep from being in pain could be sent out. oh they said they called but they're such liars.

it's fucking cat steroids (in a no doubt repugnant fish flavored base) not crack cocaine for fucks sake and the vet acted like i was trying to open my own pharmacy to provide down and out street kittens with illicit substances. yeah, doctor, even though prednisolone cannot be used to make crystal meth that's exactly what miss kitty was doing with it to fund her international terror network. or maybe she's selling it down at the gym. mmm fish flavors. yum.

miss tiger thing has a non life threatening immune disorder she will probably have for the rest of her life. me being forced to drag her angry ass into the vet for a 5 minute look see is absurd- and it freaks her out too much and i don't particularly like rivers of my blood flowing from all the places she's going to scratch me as i try to get her in the carrier. medicating her is traumatic enough for both of us. removing her from her lair... well, someone is going to pay for it...and that would be me.

here's the little darling probably licking my blood from her luxurious fur:



so as threatened here's minimal man's "face of satan" which i rediscovered in my continuing Sisyphean attempt to organize my records. maybe soon manapsara-which, of course, i can't find and haven't come across yet.

and that about sums up the 80s.

allegedly diva byrne resented that the tom tom club had much more massive success with one album than the talking heads had with their entire oeuvre. snobby art school bitch. (and i should know having been a snobby art school bitch.) adrian belew played guitar. lee scratch perry was suppose to produce the album but flaked out and didn't show.

for years someone i was just about engaged to insisted on putting up an old poster of tina weymouth nude covered with mud in the bathroom- and i was never entirely certain that they even liked the tom tom club or the talking heads or for that matter tina weymouth. and i couldn't ask- questioning NPD lovers and intimates about anything such as why they do anything no matter how insignificant whatsoever is a fruitless pursuit ending in anger and tears and too prolonged and close exposure to their toxic inner workings. i lug that man ray nancy cunard picture



everywhere along with our lady of guadalupe but at least i cheerfully and willingly am able to explain their significance without having a core personality melt down.

pleasure of love/ the tom tom club 1981:



and i completely completely forgot about the tom tom club meets johnette: concrete tom toms? concrete heads? talking blonde? doesn't really matter because david byrne sued and put an end to them. art school bitch.

the 'heads/ damage i have done 1996:



do you want the truth or do you want new wave? of course, new wave.

the genius music of david harrow-our darkness and sleeper in metropolis so far ahead of it all they get lost now.

anne clark/ our darkness 12"remix 1984:



anne clark/ sleeper in metropolis 1984(this is not the original version but i like it):



resurrected in 1987 and in the 90s by twiddly type djs -the original is still the best. my cats think this song rocks the fucking diskotech. because they are podium bunnies and have their own stripper pole:

grauzone/ eisbaer 1981:


a delightful little dance song about the films of nicolas roeg( man who fell to earth, walkabout,insignificance)- although"the bottom line" was the floor filler:

big audio dynamite/E=MC2 1985. fuck, those are some nasty ass teef , mick:



waiting for new inner sleeves. still. what creature ate all of the inner sleeves from my djing vinyl?