Saturday, December 30, 2006

Best Music of 2006

Hello Again,

As per Bruno B's directive, here's our third annual shortlist of recordings that most impressed us in the year soon to be snuffed. These choices have been telegraphed for months, but to reiterate:

Album of the Year

Kode9 and the Spaceape - Memories of the Future

(Hyperdub HYPCD001, CD)

Hands down...


Burial - Burial

(Hyperdub HDBCD001, CD)

No question.

(Not fetishizing the H'dub imprint, mind - it's just how the debris landed.)

Single of the Year

DJ Distance - Cyclops bw Traffic

(Planet Mu
ZIQ148, 12'')

Brilliant, an instant classic... Our number one for months on end. No contest!

Runner Up

Skynet - Swamp bw Isolate

(Argon ARG 008, 12")

Nasty... Sick atmospherics, the slow, boiling roil of the year.


(In case you're wondering, ethical considerations necessarily preclude mentions of sounds created by members of TLASILA, OHNE, or any of the labels for which we are grateful and honored to record...)

See you in January!


Monday, December 25, 2006


Fuck... James Brown died of pneumonia a few hours ago.

Mary Rockwell (my son Evan's mom), Michael Stipe (!) and I saw JB and the Flames at a surprisingly ill-attended show at Atlanta's Fox Theatre in 1980.

(Back in the Boat Of days, obviously.)

James was a good six years past his prime by that point, and his performance - heavy on syrupy ballads, half-hearted rap pastiches and desultory medleys of signature hits - was nearly unendurable. We stuck it out just the same, mostly out of respect for his genuinely immense legacy.

I watched Future Shock every fucking week on TBS. Nuff said.

If you've never seen his 1965 appearance on the old Ed Sullivan show, Holy God... Every hip-hop artist on Earth (and galaxies beyond) can kiss his ass.


Sunday, December 24, 2006

Sque(a)lched Again, Silenced No More...

It was a great tour... Chris stood next in line to disgraced/displaced/boobjob-eriffic Florida Republican representative Katherine Harris at Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson on the short slog back to DC... Wrap-up, analysis, pix, etc., forthcoming.


An Indolent December...

Hey Again... Just haven't felt much like posting of late. No shortage of cobra strikes or boiling pisspots of splooge, but when accelerated entropy is the norm, chaos is but the rustle of taffeta. On the torso of a bloated floater, yeah, but still less than the scream of the faceless.

Where to begin? The Squelchers tour?

We felt lousy about the TLASILA cancellation, so Rat rustled six LRS gigs in the space of an afternoon. Tallahassee (Dec 16) was an odd one: we performed in a thrift store / makeshift squat off the intersection of Railroad and Gay. A loud and largely inert procession of trope gardeners strangled the early hours; those who remained for our set seemed non plussed or flat-out uninterested. Rat deposited his amp on each of their heads... (There were seven or eight exceptions, of course. My friends Pam, Brian and Patrick drove up from Valdosta to ogle the Impala rollover; our Steak and Shake after-party was enlivened by the sight of a widescreen crack attack...


Monday, December 11, 2006

Les Tricoteuses: Wrapped

After the usual protracted post-production insanity, I've at last put Les Tricoteuses to bed. It will be released on Savage Land in the Spring of 2007.

Many thanks to Sergio Leone, whose Once Upon a Time epics helped me through this final weekend of obsessive, microscopic tweaking. Although the album consists primarily of the sound of Rat's sonorous snores run through a vintage Russian ring modulator, I think you'll find it to your liking...


Saturday, December 09, 2006

"Let Death Take Her."



(Ladder teams arrived 30 minutes after the fire was first reported...)

(One of the luckier patients; no word of the identity or condition of the person next to her...)

(In this already widely circulated photo, a hospital shrink comforts an introspective family member. Hope that's a spliff she's holding...)

(The sign reads "Plan [site map] of Narcological Hospital No. 17." ["Narcological" is a typically blunt Russian euphemism for "drug treatment."] Under any name, a shitty place to die.)

Friday, December 08, 2006

Post-Tour Tours: Update

Please note that four of we dozen-odd Shavelings (Rat, Chris, Graham, and I) will be touring in the special, Mad Dog 20/20-shaped Laundry Room Squelchers configuration from December 16 through the 23rd. Check back here for itinerary and additional details, or visit

Sidebar: We'll be honoring TLASILA's December 20th date at Jacksonville, Florida's Yesterdays Social Club, and have no ethical qualms in doing so. (I, not our former agent, booked the gig.) Our local contact, Lowgun, informs us that they've convened the eighth (known) Shave spin-off clone, one christened To Love and Shave in L.A. This Duval County iteration will be making their live debut at Yesterdays. A must-ogle gig.

In March, Mark Morgan (Sightings, TLASILA, Cocaine, etc.) and I will be touring the American Midwest together. We've bandied about one duo moniker, but we're just as likely to go out sans appellation. Still rather early.


Shrapnel Composite: Surgery Is for Sissies...

(A Wonkette comic-fumetti, itself detourned from Salon and pilfered from the former by yrz truly...)


Thursday, December 07, 2006

To Hell with the Course...

On this, the day of the release of the Iraq Study Group's report, feast upon another grim reminder of the horrors we have wrought...

(Sadr City residents peer into the burned-out husk of a bus blown earlier today apart by a suicide bomber. Those garlands welcoming us as liberators must be stacked to Phobos by now...)


Sunday, December 03, 2006

Delta Don Fleming re: Tour Snuffage

(Excerpted from an email received 3 Dec 06.)

A hard decision, but the right one in my opinion. All the bad vibes and derision was a result of us being handed a bag of dog shit and asked to dispose of it. We passed it around a few times and now it is gone...

As I’ve discussed with some of you on the phone in the last few days I think we should put our efforts into developing the new batch of songs and recording them. I would suggest that Tom and Andrew should have a writing session, now, to develop the new material that has been popping out of Tom’s head. And then we should record it on the heels of a short tour.... We record the band and songs at peak power, the new record is tracked...

West Coast can happen later. Let’s do a short tour and make a record.

- Delta Don

Has He Started Talking to the Walls? (NY Times, 3 Dec 06)

Has He Started Talking to the Walls?


Published: December 3, 2006

IT turns out we’ve been reading the wrong Bob Woodward book to understand what’s going on with President Bush. The text we should be consulting instead is “The Final Days,” the Woodward-Bernstein account of Richard Nixon talking to the portraits on the White House walls while Watergate demolished his presidency. As Mr. Bush has ricocheted from Vietnam to Latvia to Jordan in recent weeks, we’ve witnessed the troubling behavior of a president who isn’t merely in a state of denial but is completely untethered from reality. It’s not that he can’t handle the truth about Iraq. He doesn’t know what the truth is.

The most startling example was his insistence that Al Qaeda is primarily responsible for the country’s spiraling violence. Only a week before Mr. Bush said this, the American military spokesman on the scene, Maj. Gen. William Caldwell, called Al Qaeda “extremely disorganized” in Iraq, adding that “I would question at this point how effective they are at all at the state level.” Military intelligence estimates that Al Qaeda makes up only 2 percent to 3 percent of the enemy forces in Iraq, according to Jim Miklaszewski of NBC News. The bottom line: America has a commander in chief who can’t even identify some 97 percent to 98 percent of the combatants in a war that has gone on longer than our involvement in World War II.

But that’s not the half of it. Mr. Bush relentlessly refers to Iraq’s “unity government” though it is not unified and can only nominally govern. (In Henry Kissinger’s accurate recent formulation, Iraq is not even a nation “in the historic sense.”) After that pseudo-government’s prime minister, Nuri al-Maliki, brushed him off in Amman, the president nonetheless declared him “the right guy for Iraq” the morning after. This came only a day after The Times’s revelation of a secret memo by Mr. Bush’s national security adviser, Stephen Hadley, judging Mr. Maliki either “ignorant of what is going on” in his own country or disingenuous or insufficiently capable of running a government. Not that it matters what Mr. Hadley writes when his boss is impervious to facts.

In truth the president is so out of it he wasn’t even meeting with the right guy. No one doubts that the most powerful political leader in Iraq is the anti-American, pro-Hezbollah cleric Moktada al-Sadr, without whom Mr. Maliki would be on the scrap heap next to his short-lived predecessors, Ayad Allawi and Ibrahim al-Jaafari. Mr. Sadr’s militia is far more powerful than the official Iraqi army that we’ve been helping to “stand up” at hideous cost all these years. If we’re not going to take him out, as John McCain proposed this month, we might as well deal with him directly rather than with Mr. Maliki, his puppet. But our president shows few signs of recognizing Mr. Sadr’s existence.

In his classic study, “The Great War and Modern Memory,” Paul Fussell wrote of how World War I shattered and remade literature, for only a new language of irony could convey the trauma and waste. Under the auspices of Mr. Bush, the Iraq war is having a comparable, if different, linguistic impact: the more he loses his hold on reality, the more language is severed from its meaning altogether.

When the president persists in talking about staying until “the mission is complete” even though there is no definable military mission, let alone one that can be completed, he is indulging in pure absurdity. The same goes for his talk of “victory,” another concept robbed of any definition when the prime minister we are trying to prop up is allied with Mr. Sadr, a man who wants Americans dead and has many scalps to prove it. The newest hollowed-out Bush word to mask the endgame in Iraq is “phase,” as if the increasing violence were as transitional as the growing pains of a surly teenager. “Phase” is meant to drown out all the unsettling debate about two words the president doesn’t want to hear, “civil war.”

When news organizations, politicians and bloggers had their own civil war about the proper usage of that designation last week, it was highly instructive — but about America, not Iraq. The intensity of the squabble showed the corrosive effect the president’s subversion of language has had on our larger culture. Iraq arguably passed beyond civil war months ago into what might more accurately be termed ethnic cleansing or chaos. That we were fighting over “civil war” at this late date was a reminder that wittingly or not, we have all taken to following Mr. Bush’s lead in retreating from English as we once knew it.

It’s been a familiar pattern for the news media, politicians and the public alike in the Bush era. It took us far too long to acknowledge that the “abuses” at Abu Ghraib and elsewhere might be more accurately called torture. And that the “manipulation” of prewar intelligence might be more accurately called lying. Next up is “pullback,” the Iraq Study Group’s reported euphemism to stave off the word “retreat” (if not retreat itself).

In the case of “civil war,” it fell to a morning television anchor, Matt Lauer, to officially bless the term before the “Today” show moved on to such regular fare as an update on the Olsen twins. That juxtaposition of Iraq and post-pubescent eroticism was only too accurate a gauge of how much the word “war” itself has been drained of its meaning in America after years of waging a war that required no shared sacrifice. Whatever you want to label what’s happening in Iraq, it has never impeded our freedom to dote on the Olsen twins.

I have not been one to buy into the arguments that Mr. Bush is stupid or is the sum of his “Bushisms” or is, as feverish Internet speculation periodically has it, secretly drinking again. I still don’t. But I have believed he is a cynic — that he could always distinguish between truth and fiction even as he and Karl Rove sold us their fictions. That’s why, when the president said that “absolutely, we’re winning” in Iraq before the midterms, I just figured it was more of the same: another expedient lie to further his partisan political ends.

But that election has come and gone, and Mr. Bush is more isolated from the real world than ever. That’s scary. Neither he nor his party has anything to gain politically by pretending that Iraq is not in crisis. Yet Mr. Bush clings to his delusions with a near-rage — watch him seethe in his press conference with Mr. Maliki — that can’t be explained away by sheer stubbornness or misguided principles or a pat psychological theory. Whatever the reason, he is slipping into the same zone as Woodrow Wilson did when refusing to face the rejection of the League of Nations, as a sleepless L.B.J. did when micromanaging bombing missions in Vietnam, as Ronald Reagan did when checking out during Iran-Contra. You can understand why Jim Webb, the Virginia senator-elect with a son in Iraq, was tempted to slug the president at a White House reception for newly elected members of Congress. Mr. Bush asked “How’s your boy?” But when Mr. Webb replied, “I’d like to get them out of Iraq,” the president refused to so much as acknowledge the subject. Maybe a timely slug would have woken him up.

Or at least sounded an alarm. Some two years ago, I wrote that Iraq was Vietnam on speed, a quagmire for the MTV generation. Those jump cuts are accelerating now. The illusion that America can control events on the ground is just that: an illusion. As the list of theoretical silver bullets for Iraq grows longer (and more theoretical) by the day — special envoy, embedded military advisers, partition, outreach to Iran and Syria, Holbrooke, international conference, NATO — urgent decisions have to be made by a chief executive who is in touch with reality (or such is the minimal job description). Otherwise the events in Iraq will make the Decider’s decisions for him, as indeed they are doing already.

The joke, history may note, is that even as Mr. Bush deludes himself that he is bringing “democracy” to Iraq, he is flouting democracy at home. American voters could not have delivered a clearer mandate on the war than they did on Nov. 7, but apparently elections don’t register at the White House unless the voters dip their fingers in purple ink. Mr. Bush seems to think that the only decision he had to make was replacing Donald Rumsfeld and the mission of changing course would be accomplished.

Tell that to the Americans in Anbar Province. Back in August the chief of intelligence for the Marines filed a secret report — uncovered by Thomas Ricks of The Washington Post — concluding that American troops “are no longer capable of militarily defeating the insurgency in al-Anbar.” That finding was confirmed in an intelligence update last month. Yet American troops are still being tossed into that maw, and at least 90 have been killed there since Labor Day, including five marines, ages 19 to 24, around Thanksgiving.

Civil war? Sectarian violence? A phase? This much is certain: The dead in Iraq don’t give a damn what we call it.

Fuck. Tour Cancelled.

It kills me to report this, but we've decided to cancel the tour.

I'm so bummed...

The organization of the trip just wasn't up to our standards, and as a result, everyone within the TLASILA camp had become seriously stressed out. We deserve better.

Many of you have shown us an astonishing degree of kindness, and we appreciate - and have been genuinely humbled by - your efforts on our behalf.

That noted, there were too many inconsistencies, too many loose ends left untied. Until we've found the right mix of support personnel, it may be impossible for this group to tour...

We compromised our sound in order to fulfill our obligations for the Horoscopo trip, but we're not inclined to compromise a second time. It's too gut-wrenching an experience to endure.

For now, we're going to focus on writing, recording. There will be no let up in that regard. As for touring, however, we'll have to wait and see.


Tom Smith

Friday, December 01, 2006

Sleepless in December... (Ugh)

Shitty pun, but the reality is worse. Another night with minimal rest. This is killing me...

Elyse Perez
phoned at 4:00 AM, drunk and itchy as usual, but also sweet and sexy (as usual). I walked into the pitch-black living room with the phone and lay on the sofa with my eyes closed while EP brought me up-to-date. Girlfriends of Tex-Mex punkers, six-week-old kittens named Tallulah Bean (if my dead mind recalls correctly), "heavy twilight," the fallout from GK's suicide, Dixie Prix gigs involving tear gas jets applied to corneas, etc. She was chilled enough by 5:20 to hit the sheets, but my mind kept on churning. God, I'd give my right false Mick Ronson eyelash for eight hours of zzzzz-thyme...


Happy New Year from the Harz...

Hello Droogs, Happy 2019! I‘m in the Harz region of Germany, enjoying a three-day getaway to cap off an eventful year, one marked by celeb...