Piss

Fuck

Cunt

Cocksucker

Motherfucker

Tits

Whether it was in sadness or tribute, I think it’s safe to say that some of us blurted out at least one of these words when we heard that George Carlin had died.

Most of us were probably too young to hear Carlin’s classic 7 Words You Can Never Say On Television rant when it was first performed. Most of us in Milwaukee probably weren’t there to see him get arrested at Summerfest in 1972 for performing said routine. Personally, my first experience with those words would fit better under the title 7 Words My Dad Would Say Everyday After Work. But even though I wasn’t around for some of his most notorious days, his act always remained original, hilarious, and racy enough to make my fourteen-year-old self quickly change the channel when my mom came into the living room.

Since I started watching him, what always amazed me about George Carlin was his fanbase. I personally know people from all ends of the religious, political, and racial spectrums who are fans of his. And for all the vulgarity and offensiveness, his ability to bring in all different kinds of people seemed to make him endearing, even though he never really toned it down. In fact, I actually think this is the main reason I never saw his show live. When someone spends that long of a time running strong, you tend to think they’ll never stop.

Even in his last HBO special, It’s Bad For Ya!, he managed to shock me. I sat and watched as this seventy-year-old man discussed what he knew would be his own soon demise with no apologies. He blasted religion and scoffed at the idea of any afterlife, suggesting that even if heaven existed, your loved ones would have better things to do than watch over you and help out with all your stupid problems. I can only hope that if I’m lucky enough to hit that age, I’ll still be as full of piss and vinegar…but I’ll probably puss out and find Jesus or something.

Considering his beliefs on what happens after death, I’m not gonna say that George Carlin is now at peace. I’m not gonna say that he’s in a better place. And I’m certainly not gonna say he’s smiling down on us.

Instead, I’ll just say this:

Thanks.

And besides, even if there is an afterlife, George will be exactly as we want him: really fucking pissed.

-James, TLC

REVIEWS: ADAM LOVINUS

2008-06-22 18:54:34

MWVM - "ROTATIONS" (Silber Records)

Abstract and unapologetic, the shoe-gazer genre tends to be far too weird for the casual listener, as it is written as an aesthetic bitch-slap to the verse-chorus-verse blueprint of pop-rock. The shoe-gaze movement--started in the U.K. by Brian Eno, My Bloody Valentine and the Cocteau Twins in the late-Eighties--lives on as second-generation artists employ new technology to discover new sounds and textures.

Rotations, the first full-length album by U.K. multi-instrumentalist Michael Walter working under the moniker mwvm, is an opus of single-note volume swells, synthed-out loops and thunderous layered texturing with no melody, no drums, no apparent structure and no lyrics. But that’s the beauty of it. The ten-minute opener ("Context. Where?") introduces the recorded-in-a-cathedral vibe that fans of Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible will find familiar. It features lots of echo-y organ washes and gothic harmonic layering, from which the rest of the album flows like a stream from a snowcapped mountain.

By track four ("Negative Pole") the cathedral vibe has transformed into more of an abducted-by-aliens texture, with lots of low-end digital droning and Doppler-effect organ. The album peaks in the twelve-minute "Oratory Clout," humming like a swarm of digital cicadas until giving way to a clean, David Gilmour-style guitar vamp, exposing Walter’s affection toward Meddle-era Pink Floyd.

Though Rotations isn’t anything experienced shoe-gazers haven’t heard before, it’s still a solid debut effort. Surely, things will only get weirder (read: better) from here.

THE GRADE: 3 STARS

KARMIC WHIPLASH - "NERVOUS SYSTEM" (City Duck Records)

Guitarist-songwriter Brendan Themes got tired of playing bass on the Twin Cities punk and metal scene, and decided it was time to change direction. He picked up an acoustic guitar, wrote some folk-y tunes and recruited multi-instrumentalist Travis Lund to bang out the drums on his solo debut that he recorded in various basements and living rooms.

What’s cool about Karmic Whiplash is that it isn’t typical singer-songwriter fare; Themes wears his punk roots on his sleeve, penning melodic up-tempo tracks that sound somewhere between the Violent Femmes and, at best, an unplugged version of the Descendants.

Some highlights: The sudden, unexpected hook in "Second Brain" is a welcome shot to the solar plexus, proof that Themes might be onto something with this unlikely punk-acoustic hybrid. Brit-pop fans will appreciate "On A Wire," with its Kooks-like chord progression and swift storytelling, something Themes replicates on "Getting To No."

Some gripes: Sometimes Karmic Whiplash treads dangerously close to Dave Matthews, especially on mellower tracks like "Detox" and "Blindfold." They’re at their best when they play acoustic punk. Punk-ish acoustic doesn’t suit their sound.

THE GRADE: 3 STARS

THE DETAILS - "DRAW A DISTANCE. DRAW A BORDER." (Parliament of Trees)

Before their debut album came out, Winnipeg’s The Details already gained the reputation of one of western Canada’s hardest working bands. The indie-rock quartet has been on the road extensively since forming in 2005, twice embarking on coast-to-coast winter tours across the frozen Canadian countryside.

Draw A Distance. Draw A Border embodies the great things about a DIY debut album, namely that air-tight quality songs get only after being played hundreds of times at no-name bars in towns named Saskatoon and Halifax. Even if emo-ish Canadian indie-rock isn’t your bag, at least they don’t bullshit you with songs that won’t hold up live.

Some highlights: "Reunion Souvenirs" is a straight-up stomper, despite the "long-distance-relationships-are-hard" lyrical sullenness. The tasteful banjo and trumpet parts on "Underground" acknowledges the band’s artistic range without getting all uppity about using weird, old-timey instrumentation like some Canadian art-rockers. *cough* Of Montreal *cough* And what would a debut record be without small-town angst? "Height of Land" fulfills that requirement dutifully.

Some gripes: The album is an honest piece of music, but that doesn’t mean you’ll suddenly like the emo-pop genre that the band (intentionally or not) creates within. But it is unfair to knock a band for being itself. The Details will have plenty of time to break this mold.

GRADE: 2.5 STARS

CD REVIEW: MARC RIBOT'S CERAMIC DOG

2008-06-11 22:18:21

Well into his fifties, Marc Ribot has proven that one can create an extremely raw and cutting edge album while simultaneously getting ready to have their AARP card punched. If I had popped this CD in without knowing that this was the guitarist behind albums by Tom Waits and Elvis Costello, I would’ve pictured some skinny twenty-something little shit writing these songs in some glorified closet of a bedroom. He’d be the kind of musician who had spent years playing in bands providing little to no input in the songwriting process, but all the while soaking up every musical influence possible. Then one day, it all just pours out, and this kid starts making music that he wants to make, and eventually gives birth to this album. Instead though, that energy and enthusiasm is brought to us a by a man who is literally old enough to be the father of that uncompromising kid.

All of Ribot’s influences, from Latin to punk to jazz to avant garde noise, are brought to the table to form the beautiful cluster-fuck that is Ceramic Dog’s Party Intellectuals (Pi Recordings). Also featuring indie rock veterans Ches Smith (Xiu Xiu) on drums and bassist Shahzad Ismaily (Jolie Holland, 2 Foot Yard), the band’s songs range from the almost Deerhoof-style experimental art punk sound of “Party Intellectuals” to the Cuban/Latin influenced “For Malena.” While other tracks like “Shsh Shsh” and “Digital Handshake” almost feel like movie scores. Basically every song is a new experience, sharing only a common thread of awesomeness.

As I listened to this album, I began to think about how everyone I know (myself included) will eventually reach middle age and likely face a future where our fingers tend to slide slightly off the pulse as to what is really happening in the world. However, Marc Ribot is living proof that that doesn’t necessarily have to happen. I don’t know exactly how he did it, but I’d love to find out. Quite frankly, when I’m at his age, I just hope I have the wherewithal to turn my blinker off after changing lanes. But no matter how depressed I get about getting old, I know can always take solace in one thing: No matter what happens, I will always be six years younger than Wayne Chinsang.

RATING: FIVE STARS

-James Dolata, TLC