The Red Krayola

like the swiss and minarets, i have to draw a line under too much of somethingor other. i have gorged myself sick recently on the various mangled forms of garagey rock that’s floating bloated in my musical bathtub just now, clutching brokenly on jack daniels bottle. so this’ll be brief and to the point. and with only some cheater slicks action on the horizon i feel a flurry of country, rockandroll and noise noise noise (of biblical meets heinz proportions) coming on strong. no more rocket from the tombsian types. they are a blight on our landscape, a symbol of oppression that runs against the grain of our aural freedom. is lo-fi skuzz rawk spreading like the poison of islam through the ‘west’? i have a cartoon depicting tom lax with hooks for hands, masturbating over the guardian’s review of the new electro-whatever sensations. i’d release it but fear reprisals. two sides of tim cohen here. or four if yr counting vinyly. his day job in the fresh & onlys indulges his more amped up psyche rawk desires. and the soloist stuff, recorded before the new band shit i believe, is full of seventies weirdy pop influences. but there’s a fair bit of overlap here. the kinda comparator product i’d be looking at would be maybe robert pollard’s schtick, you know chucking out tiny bundles of prog and pop and rock chug (and chucking them out an alarmingly proficient rate). somewhere between cheap trick and van dyke parks, ariel pink and skip spence, modern lovers and the wipers. think coz of the glut of this kindof thing, the pendulous tower of sonics influenced six string strammash that’s teetering phallically over me i’m leaning towards the bedroom pop spew just now. and i’m being slightly unfair given the progression from the first f&o releases. it’s not all two minute stompers. there’s a distinctly odd with a capital ‘oh’ feel to some of it. whether it’s the winking goth punk syd-isms of black coffin – you don’t have to pray for beautiful skin when you live in a blackRead More

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