Yo, what's up my homiez? As you all know, Cobras is smoothed out on the hip-hop tip, keeping it real at the gym (right) when I'm not cruising the "hood" in my 5.0 ragtop. I'm dope and fresh. Like Mountain Dew Code Red I'm "as real as the streets". Word.
First, the WEIRD: Busdriver, real name: Regan Farquhar.
Next up, the HARD: Immortal Technique, real name: Felipe Coronel.
Gee, there sure has been a lot of chooglin'-ass heavy psych/classic rock getting posted around here lately, hasn't there? Like, lots of self-titled albums released between 1968 and '71 featuring scraggly dudes in bell bottoms singing about sunshine and shit? Has anyone else noticed? Seanford, have you noticed that? Manslaughter? Anyone? (get a room already, you hippies.)
The mysterious one-man Virginia-based cyber-grind entity known as GIGANTIC BRAIN is the polar opposite of all things mellow, crunchy, and peaceful. Sounding like a cross between Mars Attacks! and Agoraphobic Nosebleed, the Brain's sporadic, alien-obsessed bursts of blasting chaos are the antithesis of "groovy", the type of schizophrenic sonic onslaught that incinerates hippies on contact. I've had trouble locating individual releases by Gigantic Brain (a quagmire of split albums, demos, EP's and the like have evaporated into the atmosphere like steam), but The Invasion Discography collects everything the Brain ever recorded pre-'04, including unreleased, expunged, and otherwise unfit material from the darkest corners of cyberspace: 63 tracks, each song an apocalyptic mindfuck. As far as I can tell, Gigantic Brain's long-awaited full-length, Our Bovine Destroyers, remains unreleased as well. Cryptic, evil sci-fi metal. Suck it, hippie.
(Raging River of Fear-Big Sur, 2010)
Now, I'm no huge fan of Mr. Bungle (it's mostly Patton issues), but Faxed Head does share certain conceptual points of interest with them. Luckily, the similarities are almost entirely analogous to Bungle's earliest, basement-thrash demo stuff (Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny, etc.) and not their later meanderings in R&B, soul, or what have you. This is sloppy, stupid, bashing-your-forehead-into-a-wall foolishness, at times quiet and faux-introspective but most often chugging forth full-force on a freight train made of blastbeats, tremolo riffs, and croaked vocals.
Frank Chu aka "The 12 Galaxies Guy" is a fixture in the streets of downtown San Francisco, a beloved eccentric and conspiracist as recognizable to locals as the Transamerica building or the Coit Tower. Chu's trademark black protest sign, always emblazoned with morphing, nonsensical neon phrases (above), can be seen at sports games, public gatherings, or just about anywhere the news media is present -- although its meaning is a bit more obscure. If you need any further proof of Mr. Chu's integration into the social fabric of San Francisco, please consult Google Maps and check out the "street view" of 3rd and King:
Throughout all the media coverage and internet adulation, though, Mr. Chu's message has gone, for the most part, tragically unheard. Today we take a few minutes to review the facts in the case of Frank Chu vs. The 12 Galaxies, in an attempt to shed light on one of the most far-reaching and insidious human rights travesties of our time. Chu is not so much a protester as a freedom fighter, and his story will undoubtedly inspire legions of intergalactic truth-seekers in generations to come.
"Ben Franklin with the 12 galaxies' populations is guilty of stealing the sex lives, trying to deprive his enemies (the Soviet presidents and their friends) of their sex lives. Also the U.N. presidents. The owner of the12 Galaxies nightclub is probably Yelstin's son, too. I met Mark Hamill at the 12 Galaxies nightclub, and he introduced himself to me as Luke Skywalker. He wanted to identify me as a movie star, so he met me. 12 galaxies with the CIA is stealing sex with sex magic. The U.N presidents and their friends can counter that type of stealing with the KGB and they can take that sex life back for themselves. They could have their second wives, or a 1,000 wives. And they can enjoy sex with orgies too. The 12 galaxies are perverted, trying to murder god in the testicles, and trying to murder Lenin in the testicles, becoming the most jealous criminals across 100,000 galaxies. They can dissapear with telepathic inventions. They can use rocket vacations to their galaxies and other populations; it's like the American airlines. More advanced than the airline vacation. They can use flying saucers, space vacations, more rockets instead of more cars. And the populations on each galaxy, maybe up to 100 billion. On each planet maybe up to 5 to 8 billions. Their architecture is more advanced, richer, and more intelligent. Taller, stronger, lighter in complexion, more eye colors, more hair colors. The eye colors are probably purple, lavender, navy, orange, wintergreen, all the colors. The same with the hair, in all colors, too. The life spans of infinities are all public. The second salaries and the second wives and the telepathic inventions can all disappear in thin air."
The Vacations are with Flying Saucers with advanced foods on Space Vacations, better than Star Trek. The foods have lighter complexion's for their animals and vegetables, higher in Proteins, Iron and Nutritionalled Vitamins! Their animals are more domesticated, different at color, different eye colors also. The 3 shapes of the planets are more sophisticated, more provacativ'd, more modern, more intelligent, taller, lighter in complexion's of their populations.
Fuck off, Burner
So there you have it. Frank Chu, in collusion with the Zegnatronic, fighting for justice against Bill Clinton and the oppresive regime of The 12 Galaxies. The man is only working to get payments due, and his struggle is the struggle of Exoatmospheric Populations everywhere. Supporting him in his "Crusade for the first-ever impeachment of a non-acting President" is a good way to assist, but buying advertising space on the back of his sign is even better. Frank Chu needs your help!
Speaking of which, let's take a minute to talk about Bruce Haack. The guy started off making children's records in the early 60's, getting bitten by the psych-rock bug sometime around the release of 1968's The Way-Out Record for Children. He created many of his own instruments, including the Dermatron (right), a touch- and heat-sensitive synthesizer that he demonstrated on TV's I've Got A Secret by strapping it to the foreheads of 12 "chromatically tuned" young ladies. He explained his creations on Mister Rogers (below) and scored commercials for Kraft Foods and Parker Brothers. He was a pretty mainstream guy, despite his experimental electronic leanings, and the release of Electric Lucifer (his major-label debut) surprised many. This wasn't music for kids. This was high-concept sound collage, concerning Earth's struggle for survival in an epic battle between Heaven and Hell. You couldn't dance to it. You could, however, trip balls to it.
Haack went on to release several more albums -- children's and otherwise -- in the 1970's, before veering off into unexplored territory once again in 1978 with the creation of Haackula. This was another "left-field" album, featuring Haack himself muttering weird asides about blowjobs and paranoia over throbbing, robotic synth music. His record company flat-out refused to release it, so he re-imagined the entire thing, adding vocals by a 13-year-old boy and putting it out under the title Bite in 1981. Look for the far-superior Haackula version on IC very soon.
