Another classic Street Level compilation of UK DIY ,with shades of Proto-Indie, is "The Thing From The Crypt". A shared album for acts on Dead Hedgehog and Nick Blinko's (of Rudimentary Peni!?) Outer Himalayan Records.
No Anarcho Punk on here, thank fuck,despite Blinko's connection,- he always sounded a step apart from that washed out black clad clique-; but it has much to point towards the vague watershed between UK DIY and the early 'Indie' sound.
There's some quaintly amateurish Goth by S-Haters, but I don't mind a bit of that, as long as its as badly played as these two tracks.
And we have 'Sad Lovers and Giants', who are just too conventionally good in a New Wave sense, and amazingly still exist today!!?
The stand out band are obviously teenage tearaways 'Exhibit A', featuring future' Twelve Cubic Feet'-ers and 'Solid Space' members.
Altogether an album full of that uncertain amateurish charm we all love in this digitally padded cell; yet is soooo absent from today's boringly 'clued up' society.
'They', whatever 'they' may mean(?), are so clued up they are in fact very,very, Clueless.
Tracklist:
A1 –Exhibit A - Rain
A2 –Sad Lovers & Giants - Take Me Inside
A3 –Mex - Evil Creatures
A4 –Gambit Of Shame - Dancing With The Turks
A5 –Flying Beechcraft - Bugger Off
A6 –Image In Ruin - Tank
A7 –Soft Drinks - Squash
A8 –S-Haters - Necromancer
B1 –Soft Drinks - Pepsi Cola
B2 –Flying Beechcraft - Frog Girl
B3 –Image In Ruin - Bottle
B4 –S-Haters - Canal
B5 –Exhibit A - Echoes
B6 –Sad Lovers & Giants - Clint
B7 –Mex - Functioning Fripp Girls
B8 –Gambit Of Shame - She Lawn
3 comments:
TYVM!
You never cease to amaze me man and even though I spill words with you often I don't nearly come near to expressing my eternal gratitude unto all the anti-selfish benevolent work and care you put in over the decades and your ubermensch fanaticism to all things truly 'fuck you music'. I would let half the libraries burn around the world without a wince troubling my beautiful face to stand guard over this archive of otherwise lostables lingers that provide me with so much pretentious piss ant pissings in odd ball gnosis and useless information to all but the tiny sect of them who know and can put anyone else anytime ever down with sharp tongued shame for their musical lameness and ignorance in ear. Feckin dummies should be hanging on a Nam vet's dog tags as war trophies in VFW dump somewhere forgotten. These are more important than every gold record spun from hee-haw straw for the money sluts to cram down dipshit throats like dipsticks fingering the old Dodge Chrysler's dripping in the driveways across the suburban wastelands. Not to mention your gift of gab and your elitist logic faux pas musical pseudo third reich reactionary nihilist stand up act that is more entertaining than them all ever to me anyways with insider spoiler views i afforded dogging your dance routine herein. so i see and know of it's slick slippery sardonic under parts poured carefully with a mothers love during tea time into our undeserving unwashed hands holding dixie cup cloud drives and download folders full to the brim of this nauseating nectar we dare call music. Your fuzzy fur covered hide rich as mink in culture value yet still humbly soft and tender underbelly full of love and jelly roll sweetness at your huge pounding drum of a heart than any asshole that I have come across in the last decade of my slow soaking of a cunctator suicide through a net nutritional death I have unwisely but regretfully fated myself to run amok through to the decadent days cease to roll over. What I'm trying to say like a horny teenage virgin standing before his fathers uncovered porno stash for the first time is... zip! Spank yo-, er, Thank you Jonny. It's been an honor being your guest and beating my own at home to your intangible gold presents & your tangible bold presence in this hell hole of a world made a bit more cozy with your cunt spread wide. Can I say that here? Oi. Okay I'm tired and growing sick of you again like you showed me. Fagout. L8r duder. Don't tell mom I was drinking again. It tastes like piss because it is. Love you big dummy. Eat shit and diareah (always hard word to spell) for a week at least if you dont dial DIE OR DIY. Okay im done now. Clean this mess up for me I pooped in my pants damnit. Feck it. ♥☻♥
Thanks so much <3
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