Gettin' our shit together, but just so all y'all know we haven't forgotten about ya (though you may have forgotten about us)!
Today, it's another in our world famous series of "Greatest Song Ever Written (at least for today)". Nuthin' much to say about this one, other than it's Tom Waits and The Replacements, two of 'Merica's greatest treasures. From a bootleg of the the session that gave us "Date To Church", which we assume y'all have heard by now. Man, to have been a fly on the wall for this span of recording...
Tom Waits and Paul Westerberg tradin' verses?...heaven!
Big news is that the Deep Blues Festival is returning to it's roots, taking place this summer at Bayport BBQ (owned and operated by Deep Blues Fest honcho, Chris Johnson) June 29th through July 1st! Gonna be 27-28 bands including James Leg, Left Lane Cruiser, Reverend Deadeye, Molly Gene One Whoaman Band, Brian Olive (of the Dan Auerbach-produced Dr. John record), Possessed By Paul James, The Speaking Tongues, Danny Kroha (of The Gories and Demolition Doll Rods!!!!!!), and a host of others we're pretty keen on! Y'all really want to make the trek, cuz, besides the fact that I'll be there, it's FREE BBQ for the entire weekend. That just about pays for yr ticket right there. We've got our tix already, and hope to see ya there. No bitching about lame-ass fests like Pitchfork, Lollalapaovercrowded, or Cokesnortin'-cacchella, when y'all could be gettin' sweaty and kicking it jukejoint-style at Deep Blues Fest, where punk and blues have a two-headed fork-tongued baby, and call it rawk'n'roll, baby!
Oh, and there's another band playin' the Fest (in their 'Merican debut)....see below.
The first thing you notice about catl's new rekkid, "Soon All This Will Be Gone" is that they've gotten louder and nastier... no generic "maturity" for this band, by which we mean they haven't gotten fancy, tedious, or embraced a mainstream attempt at gentrified blandness. No, quite the opposite. This is a band, and a record, that wants you to fuck, drink, and get got-damn lowdown.
The next thing you notice is how brilliantly Sarah K( Percussion, Organ, Vocals & Shakin' Around) is worked into the proceedings, moving from yelps, call and response, and occasional tambourine and keys on previous records that were more 2-man band-focused, and now moved to the forefront, taking lead vocals on several songs with her wildcat whoop carrying us further up and further into the promised land, and her organ and rhythmic shimmy infuse the entire record.
The rekkid starts off with a field recording-sounding joint, a quick burst of country blues courtesy of Furry Lewis, and ends with a similarly recorded take on "Goodnight Irene", drenched in church lady organ. Both are brief snippets, and suggest a backwoods, muddy sound. They're foolin' ya. The second song, "Gold Tooth Shine" kicks y'all outta the shack and into the burning fields. And it ramps up from there.
Tracks "Gotta Thing ForYou" (featuring Sarah K. on lead vocals), "Cinderblocks", "5 Miles", and "Get Outta My Car"(a Hasil Adkins cover, if y'all need a killer signifier) are blown-out tire, voodoo-kissed, burn the white-trash porch down ravers, all organ-drenched, harmonica blistered, geetar-fucked, rhythmic groovers, hollerin' and scuzzed, bleeding sweat and kerosene, white lightning and mad dog cocktail. Main man catl his very own self rakes the unholy coals of hell with his mud-stained voice a prophet.
"Talk Too Much Blues" is a kudzu blistered hillbilly stomper, "He'll Make a Way" is a slow burning call and response duet full of, dare we say, hope, a late night country blues built on god and song, salvation and belief. A stunner that demands a slow drunken waltz with yr loved one.
The record, "Soon All This Will Be Gone" is a trashy glory of of an album, full of strange back road ramble, bruised, bloody, and anglin' for a fight. Nasty, filthy gutter blues, ready to move yr ass and shoot you busted and broken into the night.
"Soon All This Will Be Gone" goes on sale tomorrow, April 14th. You owe it to yrself to get a copy. Just follow the linky link above!
Hey now! Exciting news! There's a new Ten Foot Polecats record on the horizon (late spring/early summer), and we've got a sneak peak!
We've covered the band several times over the years, and we make no apologies. An unholy holler of mud encrusted Howlin' Wolf revival punkblues godhead, featuring some of the nastiest shards of dirty geetar crashing the levee's and destroying everything in it's path.
The following tune is a tribute to the seminal Muddy Roots Festival. Damn, Sam, but this makes us wish we had been there!
More on all this later, but for now, enjoy! (yeah, it's a stream, but we'll have plenty of mp3 stuff coming up, so relax...all will be well, and the song kicks ass!)
Our computer died, so we lost all our playlists. Sadness! But...all music was saved on an external hard drive, and we got a shiny new machine, so we only have 145 days of saved music to troll through (not counting all the vinyl and new stuff) and re-catalouge/ re-visit! Good times, and who knows what hidden treasures we've forgotten that'll get a new listening, so there's that!
Working on a big post, and we've got some other stuff in the pipeline, but here's a little something to hold y'all off!
Another tune in our series of "Best songs ever written (at least for today)", wherein we just post a song with little or no exposition, and allow said tune to stand by itelf!
Today, it's a nifty little N'Awlins holler from Blind James Campbell! A glorious and joyful shouter, perfect for killing the blues, wipin' the tears from yr eyes, and sending y'all shimmying down the street! But don't take our word for it...listen for yrselves! Our favorite song of all time, at least for today!
Enough time off recovering from our December blowout and Best Of lists...let's kick the New Year off proper, with the first in our series of Killer Records that we we'd never heard before until a pal shared it with us, and we can't stop playing it because it kick our ass all over the schoolyard! (yeah, not sure how long this series will last under its current name).
Straight outta New York (and England?), a mix of The Sweet, the New York Dolls, Wanda Jackson, Lucinda Williams, The Runaways, Nico, The Donnas, and, oh, let's say Kitty Wells.
Dirty, dirty candy-smeared gum-poppin' snarl geetar, with honey-dripped wasted alley vocals tossed off like Phil Spector girl-groop on amphetamines, loud and punk rawk in the sunshine blinking out between tall buildings, with the night coming on, and bad thoughts and bad deeds awaiting. Filthy and glammed up, with a touch of honky tonk, even referencing "Fox on the Run" on the tune "Bleeding Heart", it's a record that demands the volume at 11, blasting from yr speakers and hopping up yr Camaro on the streets of yr town.
This record is a must-have for all Big Rock Candy Mountain visitors...have we ever steered you wrong? You can hear more tunes here. And you can buy the record here. Do yrself a favor...grab the rekkid and rock the sleazy night away!
Ok! Here we go! The Top Ten Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2011! Hide yr wives and husbands, cuz we're taking this mofo to 11! Can you stand the excitement??? Already figured out #1??
A great year of music, fuck cynicism. The rawk is still alive and well, and we're here to testify!
What will be keen on in the coming year? Who knows? Stay tuned!
Before we begin, a final "best of"...
Band of the Year: The Bunting Pussies! (we got to see this seminal band in a tiny bar in Brooklyn before the start of the Norton Records blowout. They've promised a website coming up. We managed to snag their essential 7" "Wiggle Waggle Woggle b/w "Dickey Pearce"" from them direct, and are absolutely enamored! Got a chance to talk to singer Lord Fairley McSquat after the show and he's promised a full LP before the end of the year. The sheer greasy, loud, boozed up energy of this band is like nothing we've heard before. We're incredibly pleased to have been a witness to their resurgence, and will be covering that 7" and their future LP once it comes out. Keep yr eyes peeled!)
And, finally, The Top 10!
The Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2011 (part 5 of 5)
Hallelujah trash, deep and primal shouting, distorted AM radio filter in robes smeared with semen and sermon the Church of the Blues, baptized holy moonshine water, sanctified by the holy holler, god in the Juke Joint (indeed), shimmy wobblin' the midnight hour, chasin' tail and salvation, and he's taking the devil home at the end of the night.
From a previous post: "Reverend John Wilkins is the son of legendary blues man Robert Wilkins, and they say still waters run deep, but the waters are moving like a pentecostal baptismal on fire, and run deep blues, baby. Wilkins brings a Mississippi hill country trance to the dirty gospel, and Soul, good Soul, where the spirit is lifted and swayed in secular and salvation. Wilkins' voice, the very sound of repent personified, is the highlight of it all, of course, a lost crackle in heaven's transistor. At the end of the day it's a road to glory tabernaclin' sweatbox of a gospel record, sex and salvation swing low, big tent revival meetin' hootenanny. The path to salvation starts here."
Got this record as a "single of the month club" deal, ahead of the regular regular release. Some of the vinyl is different from the final product. That's typical, and very, very, good. So. It's Billy Childish. Every damn year we include a Billy Childish joint in our list. There's a reason for that...he's one of the most important voices in rock 'n' roll over the past 30 years or more. Until we turn the man into a million-seller, well, we're gonna keep pimpin'.
This new incarnation of his is full on rawk, 60's inspired, full of piss and loud as a motherfucker, out of control and singular. Situationist, but furious and angry, the very essence of punk aesthetic filtered through Huddie Ledbetter and The Sonics. The best "pure" rawk record of the year.
(Note: proper review coming shortly) Two men. One big-ass sound, grooved out surge and demon-swilled dirt bombed primal rawk, slide-shit fuck yr mama geetar and satan drummed insanity, a velocity of hound dogs trailin' garbage scent and filthy blooze destruction!
From our review of the record:""Giving Tree" is the lowest of low down groove, a dirty diamond of rough, aching, swirling James Leg keys back-dropped by muted and fuzzed slide shimmer guitar. A voice, still growled in pure soul underneath, wounded and in love, lost and rambled, fighting through the sonic din. It's a stunner of a song, and nothing like we've heard before by these cats. A revelation.
The rest of the record is high point, followed by high point, nasty (again) and loud, driving and slathered butter'n'pork rawk. Themes appear...the road ("Road Again"), as befits their name, and food ("Cracker Barrel", "Pig Farm", "At The Denny's"). That the sheer sonicness of their sound can be fed through an AM radio dial in your '72 Chevy Nova or slapped down on yr turntable when you want yr latest house rent party to get sweaty is a given. That they've fed the Blues through a blender and come up spittin' nails on the other side is a given. That what they do to the guitar and drums aesthetic is probably illegal in most states is a given. That Freddy J IV's vocals are a shattered glass yowl of stomped larynx glory is also, and again, a given. But what's missed most, and what is most important, is that Left Lane Cruiser is a Soul band. As informed by Mississippi, they've got a little Memphis in 'em as well. And, of course, as befits the name, a thousand or more miles of gravel in the headlights and in the rearview mirror."
The mighty lord of the Beelzebub Fender Rhodes and Black Diamond Heavy goes solo, crafting a record of nasty grease and Soul, daddy-o! The sound of the soul alone, wailing and mud-smeared blown gasket holy rhythm junk-shop destruction. Sick with clattering sweet and wet spot jackenanny groove, whiskey soaked crusted preacher rhythm and hellfire solitude!
More review goodness we did awhile back:"We've preached before that Mr. Keith is a songwriter with a timeless brilliance: 2 1/2 minute songs, honky bar-hook-filled and longing, desperate and full of belly up to the bar observation. It's rock'n'roll, without the pretense, country-fried, soulful, a little boozy, a little trashy, a little bit dance 'til the end of dawn. Imagine, if you will, that Buddy Holly took the template for "Rave On", and made a long player record with that aesthetic. Seriously, stop for a moment, and imagine it. But he didn't. John Paul Keith did. And the world is a better place for it. Oh, and John Paul Keith has better hair than you.
rom the punkish, Summertime Blues jab of "Anyone Can Do It" to the Here Comes a Regular regret of the title song, "The Man That Time Forgot" is a bar record, running the gamut from entry to last call . 12 songs. That's all you need (that's all you ever need). Especially when they're these 12 songs. Follow the track listing from braggadocio to reflection, with all the classic moments in between.
Gonna track this record from start to finish. It's not a "concept" record in any way other than our perception. But we're gonna work on theme of our own creation, and in the process hope to convince you why this record is a masterpiece.
Kicking off with the raver (all hand-claps, greasy organ, and raving vocal), "Never Could Say No", , and the immortal line "Flying overseas with the Flipside Kid" (a Jack Oblivian reference, who Keith tours with and backs), Keith sets the stage, a willful roue, blaming others for his appearance at said joint. Follow that with the rollicking, barrell-house piano two-stepper "You Devil You" (he sees the girl), and we've got a situation.
The next three songs set the stage. The aforementioned "Anyone Can Do It" shows a punkish strut, and "Songs For Sale" is the 50's-informed groover, the sensitive guy laying out his cred. "Afraid to Look", led by greasy keys, is the dance, the manly man strutting his shit.
But with any encounter, self-doubt creeps, and "The Man That Time Forgot" weighs in with an early night lighter-raiser, a honky tonk ballad full of ripped guitars and reflection. Follow that with "I Think I Fell In Love Today". Like Tom Waits'"I Hope I Don't Fall In Love With You" , we're looking at the weird moment between booze-fueled courage and resignation. But the night is still young...
So John Paul Keith takes a break, and in the garage-country track "Dry County", full of rave-up geetar and hollered backing vocals, we leave the bar with our best buds, looking for a little balm to heal the perceived wounds. But, consarnit, we're stuck in a land without liquid refreshment...so, back to the bar, and an atonement..."Somebody Ought to Write A Song About You". This song is pure Southern Soul, scratched guitar and more greasy organ. We're back at the bar, and the girl's still there, and our hero wants to transform his perceived love into the immortal. But...and but...he's "Bad Luck Baby", another surging riposte on condition, and why men are bad, bad news.
Fumbling into the night, then. another ramped-up organ-led moment, "Work At Night". Who's he working for? That's up to you, but DAMN, the band gives us a greasy workout!
And, finally, the most completely Country song on the record, "The Last Last Call". Pure Country weeper. The ultimate barstool lament..."So here's to you and to me". Does he get the girl? You'll have to find out for yourself. But he's toasting, and we're drinking, and our boots are on the floor, and we're gonna wake up, and probably do it all over again."
What we said when we reviewed it the first time: "What Brusseau produced is nothing short of genius. Really. No hyperbole involved. A shimmering hymn of midnight moon and morning dew. The record is very much, as it's title suggests, a midnight to six am listen, inviting you into a warm room, your favorite chair facing the window, a bottle of whiskey on the table, and a broken heart mending with each beat. Brusseau's voice: a lowered, single malt bartione, whispering in yr ear from behind, urging you into the stars fell night, taking you through the small hours with each hushed prayer. Each whispered line a reflection of headlights on broken pavement.
"Why'd I even agree to come, agree to come
It was probably cause I'm drunk, cause I'm drunk
I haven't shaved my face in months, not in months
The coffee table's mine, can I put my feet up one more time?"
Musically, the record picks and trips and gorgeously wanders, at times stripped and naked, at times delicately baroque. Each passage is a Koan, a heart-broken melody, strung and neon-lit, the fireflies and the fading campfire, the salvation in yr crackled AM leading home, or at least to the fizzled motel in the end of the world.
"I am tlll and frayed, I'm shaking in and out
And I see the woods, and the rust
Relax, your voice will come sit back and feel the sun
The colors bright and blue, and the warmth"
What is crafted, what you hear, and what is communicated... a singular vision, a man in the forgotten hours, and the forgotten years, laid bare, a vision of the smallness and grandness of the in-between time, a moment of slipping and catching, while the world is sleeping. And, while the world is sleeping Barry Brusseau is breathing a sound of the moment between waking and dream.
"Float so high I hear angels sing, hear them sing
Float so high I hear angels sing. Got stars all over their wings."
A singular artist, one for whom we are left speechless...shocking, we know. But, let's try... The mighty voice, a growl to a wail, powerful and full of sin and sex, riding down the burned out mountain on the nastiest slide guitar and kick-drum racket, drunk on the sound of the end times, shaking the shotgun shack to the ground, churning up bloody dust on the backroads of old, weird America, spent rifle shells littering rusted out floor of a dilapidated pickup truck, moaning cowblues revival. Full review coming soon, but for now, take our word for it. You won't be disappointed.
Most of those that know us suggested that we write this review with a mere"Duh". One word, that reflects perfectly how our, yes, obsession with the enigma that is Tom Waits. They would be correct, in that this is the least surprising pick we've made. We'd prefer to let Mr. Waits' music speak for itself, but...and, well, but...what has to be recognized is legacy. Nobody wrote a sadder song this year. Nobody wrote a louder, more abrasive song this year. A record that defined the past, and, in typical fashion, looked more forward than any artist was bold enough to attempt. An old man (as our current definitions would have us believe), who continues to redefine who he is, and who he has been. No artist has been more willing to search the nature of sound and how it reflects the human condition. No artist has continued to grow like Mr. Waits, to push the boundaries and retain their singular voice. Every song on this record is a travelogue, a meeting of having been and will be. It will break your heart in places, and will stir your soul in others. It will rattle yr ears, and poke at the hidden places of your sadness.
Tom Waits has always played a "character" in his records. Very few, least of all us, could pretend to know the true man, lost as we are in his carny barker meets barfly con job. But what we take from this latest missive is a culmination, a shaking down of mirrors, a shivering and stomping throw down. When god and satan meet, and the tires are burned off, the rubber melting on the road to who knows when.
Mr. Waits' management preferred we not post an mp3 sample. That's fine. Here's a couple approved videos from his new record. Just buy the goddam thing, already!
Records are good. Records stores are good. We're all good!
More tasty goodness from 2011! Our Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2011 rocks on with #20-11! We're gettin' the really primo stuff now...every record in our list is great, and we recommend every damn one of them, but now we're starting to touch on the really heavy hitters! From now 'til the end..well, what are you waiting for? Support these artists! The future of music depends on you!
Did we miss some great records this year? Let us know! An open mind is a chance to hear great tunes! Tell us what we missed!
Some more "Best Of's" before kickin' it out...
Re-Issue of the Year:This May Be My Last Time Singing: Raw African-American Gospel on 45 R.P.M. 1957-182(Holy shit! (literally)...A box set of essential hollerin' and wailin', The very roots, both spiritually and sonically, of rawk'n'roll...fighting the devil, making love to the saints, a compendium of the spiritual and the secular sound. Amazing!)
Singular Live Moment of the Year: Molly Gene, Ten Foot Polecats and the Scissormen performing"Old Black Mattie" together at the 2011 Deep Blues Festival in Cleveland Ohio. (A transcendent throwdown, in which we found the Deep Blues George'n'Tammy in Molly Gene and Jay Scheffler, Jim Chilson and Ted Drozdowski abusing their guitars in a sick, sick way, and Matt Snow and Chad Rousseau bringing tribal pounding insanity to drum kits that seemed as if they might buckle and disintegrate under the siege. Yeah, it was that good...even better. Youtube it, kids!)
Top Ten tomorrow!
The Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2011 (Part 4 of 5)
Here's what we said recently:"... a record of dilapidated splendor...a Southern, sneering rawk'n'punk-ass record of timeless qualities...booze, cooze, and loozers, floundered, desperate in its bourbon-soaked tabletop, slippery brass rail as heaven."
Country record of the year, badass hillbilly girl on wrong side of the tracks, she'll fuck you up, and you'll like it, hardscrabble tonkin' hell with a pistol full of gasoline!
From our review a while back:"A booming and deep well vocalist, Klee has drawn comparisons to Neko Case, Jolie Holland (whom she covered brilliantly at her live show) and Kelly Hogan. Which is all well and good, and apt, but Julia Klee seems to be drawing from an older tradition, one that includes Kitty Wells, Loretta Lynn, Dolly Parton, and most especially, Emmylou Harris. Some of those comparisons come from a lyrical intent. Klee is songwriter of incredible situationist gift, warping her voice into the subject, manipulating her vocals into the sad and the beautiful. Some of those comparisons are in the power of her voice. It's an astonishing instrument in it's own right...a record of depth and spirit, a hoedown of longing and beauty."
(Note:interview and full album review coming soon)Repent, evil sinners, from out of darkest, deepest waters a junkpiled pickup truck, rusty and rattling, caked and bloody, growling red-eyed moonshine!
From our review:"It's a loud record. Really, really loud. In a glorious, fuzzy, xpressway to yr spine kind of way, rattled and raw. Chicken's voice, a bastard child of Tom Waits and James Leg, wails "sinners in the hands of an angry god"-syle salvation, 'til yr ears are hoarse and yr throat is parched gasping water, lord, water from the sacred well. Brutal throbbed kick drum pounds sex beat degenerate lust. And some of the filthiest fuckblues guitar, drowned in a swamp and emerging covered in the goo goo muck of creation. Tribal, pulsing, very, very evil. The kind of guitar slime that gives you bad thoughts, reeks of white lightning, and scrapes, scratches and claws at yr soul."
We've got a special guest review of this record. Our pal Eric H. feels very strongly about this record, and has excoriated us about it's "too low" ranking. Take it away, Eric:
"I’ve rewritten this review 10 times or more and: nothing I’ve written as come close to conveying how immediate and powerful this album is. So I will say this. This is the FUCKING album of the year. Dave Thomas, Cheetah Chrome, Craig Bell and Richard FUCKING Lloyd – What else do you need to know? These guys aren’t coasting on past glories or putting out lame experiment in the name of ‘art’. (Lou Reed I’m talking to you) This is just a tight, muscular rock band doing what far too many rock bands these days don’t do very well, which is ROCK. Buy this album. Buy a copy of you neighbor. Buy a copy for your Mom. This album should be a the top of this or any list. Buy this album as if your life depended on it."
Itshould be noted, in addendum, that this is Rocket From The Tomb's first "proper" record, and that this band led to Pere Ubu and The Dead Boys, and are completely seminal in any discussion of U.S. punk. And, of course, Peter Laughner was a member as well. So, you know, you know it's gonna be a great record!
Hey folks, sorry we missed yesterday with Part 4 of our Top 50 Favorite Records of 2011. Had some computer problems (not sure if it's fixed or not, but we're live at the moment). The final 20 will post next Monday and Tuesday (the good lord or lady of home computing willing). Today, though, we wanna spread some New Year's cheer!
Hope everyone has a good New Year's Eve and Day. Not big on resolutions and whatnot, but maybe we'll try to be better posting this coming year. And maybe we'll strive to be a little nicer to our fellow folks. Never hurts to try, anyhow.
Here's some rockin' and rollin' tunes to help get yr New Year's Eve party swingin', baby!
The mighty Quintron kicks off the night, with his own insane organ-drenched, rollerskating party version of a "New Year's Night"! Keep the night going with a beatnik bop New Year's groove of "Bear Rug" courtesy of Tony Rodelle Larson! Roy Milton and his Solid Serenaders keep us boppin' and boozin' along with their own "New Year's Resolutions"! Roy Tan and Combo get downright "bubbly" with a not so subtle suggestion on how to get, ahem, "bubbly" on the big night..."let's fill our glasses with "sunshine..." indeed! And New Year's Eve wouldn't be complete without at least one bit of sobriety, courtesy of Johnny Paycheck and his end of the night coat check.
Once again, our Best Of 2011List concludes next week.
For now, enjoy the big night of the year. We'll raise a glass to you all!
Keeping the groove rollin' with Day Three of Big Rock Candy Mountain's Favorite Records of 2011! Ruling the world one record at a time!
When possible, tunes are taken from vinyl (or, the download card from the vinyl...yay download cards!). Most of these records are from small, independent labels that Rolling "corporate" Stone wouldn't touch if their ad dollars depended on it. Have you seen the latest "best of" lists??? Egad...we don't pretend to have the greatest, most outre taste, but good gravy! Alas...hopefully we're providing you with a modicum of "alternative" (whatever that is). Hell, maybe this list sucks, but we stand by every damn record on it. Do you really care about the latest Beyonce record?
Ok, then, here's a couple of "Best Ofs" before we kick out #'s 30-21!
Book of the Year: The Devil All The Time by Donald Ray Pollock (Takes Breece Pankake's exploration of Appalachian life and transforms it into a noirish, muddirty drenched exploration of the evil men are capable of, and the transformative good they can do.)
Radio Station of the Year: WMSE (One of the last true independent radio stations, and more diverse than...gasp...WFMU. Yeah, I said it (though we love, love, love WMFU...no hard feelings, guys). True "public" radio run by folks who actually like music, and aren't afraid to step outside of whatever boundaries one could set.)
Coming up, then, Re-Issue of the Year and Band of the Year!
Without further postulating...
The Big Rock Candy Favorite Records of 2011 (Part 3)
Eternal Mountain fave, burning the desert down, slide the geetar and gruff blues moan, the sound of open canyon never and echoed always, believe and fall again!
The lord god of all New Zealand, leader of the greatest band ever, The Clean, Kilgour furthers the autumnal falling leaf strum, eyes upturned in revelation and swirl the air, the slightest grasp, the drone of all life.
Devil may care, and surely he does, sleaze rawk the purgatory, and round the sound, the temptation of voodoo rhythm and beat noir boozey backroads shotgun shacks, with faith healers and snake charmers galore!
Hey Ho, here we go! We've got Part 2 (of 5) of The Big Rock Candy Mountain Favorite Records of 2011! Aren't y'all a'quiver with excitement! Of course you are!
Quick caveat: We have a huge stack of records from the past year that we haven't gotten to yet. And we're not including 7"'s in this list. What that means, of course, is that we're missing out on a whole bunch of great shit! Such, of course, is the nature of lists. Are we missing a killer record? Yep! Hopefully we'll make up for it over the next few months. Got a favorite record that we're missing? For fuck's sake, let us know!
Before we dig in to the list, let's give a holler to some other categories...
Record Label of the Year: Norton Records! (so many great labels that we love...Hozac, Trouble In Mind, Big Legal Mess, Voodoo Rhythm, etc. But Norton wins, for so many reasons, but ultimately based on the next category...) Live Show of the Year: Norton Records 25th Anniversary 4-Day Blowout in New York City! (we can't even begin to give proper props to how great this weekend was...oldsters The Sonics!? and the Mysterians! The Robby Fuller 4! Mick Collins leading a Soul Review featuring Andre Williams, Melvin Davis, Dave "Baby' Cortez, The Mighty Hannibal!Bloodshot Bill returning to the U.S.! The Great Gaylord! Yo La Tengo as the Condo Fucks! The mighty A-Bones! Tandoori Nights! And so much more, including future Mountain favorites Daddy Long Legs! Good gravy, we left out another great 30 bands from the weekend!)
More special best-of lists over the next few days.
But let's get to what y'all are actually interested in.
Part 2 of Big Rock Candy Mountain's Favorite Records of 2011!
