Prong

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I've been fucking with Prong like mad lately. Their debut, the second and third albums have been getting daily spins for about two months now ( I have not been able to find the very first EP Primitive Origins on CD, yet.) It is not a hard undertaking to intake these three old-school gems when you consider that all three of them clock in delightfully below 45 minutes a piece. I believe that I have mentioned before how I sort of have a problem with albums that run over one hour in length, regardless of genre. Prong does not seem to ail from this condition.

Prong was/is (might still be active) an NYC band started by guitarist Tommy Victor who was also the sound guy at CBGB's once upon a time. They broke out in 1987 with an EP, Primitive Origins, on a label called Mr. Bear (later re-issued on a label called Spigot.) Their first full-length Force Fed was already in the can when the EP was released, but Prong's debut would not see daylight for two more years due to label problems.

Force Fed finally got released in early 1989 on the the In-Effect label (hit link to viddy their discography/roster) once Howie Abrams and his crew were able to thankfully obtain licensing for it. Unfortunately for the In-Effect posse, Force Fed would be the first and last piece of vinyl (can you get the reference? email me...) that Prong would drop for them. The majors already tasted blood in the water when they heard/saw what Victor and his crew were doing and all of them wanted to snatch up the prize. In the end, it was Epic Records whom ended up with the honors of releasing their second proper full-length, Beg To Differ.                      

Beg To Differ enjoyed some success; about as much success that a Thrash band can attain. Yeah, that's right, I said it... they WERE a fucking Thrash band. Oh wait, you must have thought that having multiple ties that bind to Hardcore (such as Victor being an employee at CB's or affiliation to In-Effect Records) that Prong was a Hardcore band crossed over into Thrash. Nathan! Prong is straight up Thrash, New York Thrash. That is, at least right up until Beg To Differ. 'Differ is Prong's pivot-point, where they began to incorporate more groove oriented, stop-and-go parts (slightly similar to neighbors Helmet quite possibly.)

(Actually, In-Effect had a few Thrash bands on their roster asides from releasing four of the most important Hardcore records ever.) 

Hey, here's some cool useless trivia for you:

Guess who is the legendary "scene" artist behind the front cover? 

Why, it's the work of none other than scene-art legend Pushead (Brian Schroeder). If you're familiar with his work, you'd identify it as his immediately. Pushead has a style that is instantly recognizable, but I'm particularly tripped out by his way of drawing eyeballs that just sucks you right into making creepy eye contact. He just makes them seem so real and alive!

Beg To Differ caught some rec' in it's time. It received 4 out of 5 stars from both AllMusic and Rolling Stone, and a snippet of their song "Lost And Found" was used as a bumper on MTV's Headbanger's Ball (millennials hit the link) that they'd run when they'd cut to commercials. Pretty much everyone of my friends in Middle School had this joint but me. Why not me? LOL... OK, I'll tell you. I had just shaved my head (8th Grade) as like this big declaration of becoming "Full-Blown Hardcore"; and so when I saw their pics on the cassette's J-Card and saw they had long hair I refused to listen to it. (Oh God, that's just the tip of the iceberg of the douchebag that I was as an eighth-grader...) 

Prove You Wrong, released in September of 1991, is the one that catches my attention the most out of all three. First of all, the installation on the front cover (yet another Pushead production), has always caught my eye (even way back when) . I really love it. It kind of reminds me of a certain type of imagery/relics that I would encounter regularly when I practiced Afro-Cuban occultism. 

This is probably as close as they ever got to a Hardcore sound, showing little formulaic tricks here and there that were staples of that genre circa 1991. I think that Prove You Wrong has a lot of elements that would appeal to fans of Burn and Burn-imitators, also if you love Leeway's Open Mouth Kiss, then you'll definitely dig this. I am drawn to a paradoxical attribute in their sound. While certainly heavy, there's also this odd mellowness to it. Like, you can sit and get stoned to it or drink to it and it won't drive you insane. There's a relaxed quality present here. I don't know, it's weird. I literally spin it once a day, and have been doing so for about two months now. I would be torn between this joint and Force Fed if I had to choose a champ. Quite frankly, I think Prove You Wrong might be the winner in my book. It just really meshes with my brain-waves or something.

Going forward from Prove', Prong started going into a more "industrial" sound. Their next album would feature a member of Killing Joke (seems appropriate for a shift to industrial.) Not that I disparage industrial music, but I'm not interested in Prong's take on it. For this reason, the three joints listed here are as far as I go with these cats. 

Just follow this link to a Youtube page I found with Prove You Wrong, the full album, so you can smoke out to this too and then maybe you can tell me what you think by sending your comments or complaints to:

misanthropaganda@yahoo.com

Enjoy!

Suicide, the 1977 self-titled debut album.

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And so finally, the Suicide s/t debut album has made its new home in CD Condo, a.k.a. my archives, shelved cozily in between Suicidal Tendencies and Sunny Day Real Estate. This record has been on my wishlist since time immemorial but kept getting snaked in line by pop-up 'collector's whims' of mine (Like my most recent one for the early work of Lonnie Liston Smith which is fantastic!) Thankfully, I was gifted a copy of this for Father's Day otherwise I may never have gotten to cross this thing off of my list.  Welcome home...

Suicide were under my radar until I was first introduced to them quite a few years ago via an article in, yep, Thrasher Magazine (which has a fine tradition in my household for breaking new sounds to me since 1986.) But that would be all of the info that I would possess on these cats for a while. When I finally did hear them for the first time, it wasn't even actually them but Henry Rollins covering what I presume is their most widely known cut, "Ghost Rider". I can say with full honesty that in June 2020 AD I am listening to this album with virgin ears; all the better to listen to and summarize it with, my dear. There will be no pre-programmed proclivities or biases that may shape or form my opinion.

I can tell you that in preparation for this post, I exceeded the quota of lifetime listens to this album by 200%. I often run an album on 'Repeat' mode while I listen and absorb before beginning to pontificate. In doing so for this particular album I exhausted my reserves. I am not trying to tell you that this record blows because I don't find that to be the case. 

In fact, this is a must have in my opinion, especially if your bread-and-butter is Punk. Not that Suicide is Punk as you and I may know it, but they were the first to use the term to describe music. Trip back with me to 1970. An advert in The Village Voice reads "Punk Music By Suicide", announcing a 10 October gig at M:APFLA (a gallery space for radical NYC artist/activists.) This is the uncontested first use of the term "Punk" in a musical context. On the merit of that anecdote alone, this album is a must have for a thorough collector of Punk.

 Also, while Suicide are by no means originators of electronic music (which has been recorded since the 1930's), they certainly were the first (if not among them) to inject the form with Rock N'Roll attitude, later to be identified as 'Punk' attitude. Way before your grandparents were appalled by a freak with an orange 'hawk and combat boots, Suicide were Punk.   

The thing is, their take on 'electro' is sooooo minimal that it doesn't hold up to the times. They make Tank from the Atari 2600 sound like the Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra (which I am happy to brag that I once took a broad out on a date to see. Ahh, Flor Magdalena, que clase de hembra!)  It is certainly a very cool listen if music triggers your imagination. Upon processing, I perceived Suicide as a post-apocalyptic, electric rockabilly duo (think Elvis Presley doing the soundtrack for Tron.) The recording also captures all the warmth and pulsating qualities of the music, nuances of old recordings that audiophiles jizz their Hane's over. 

However, having said all that, I get the feeling that the true beauty, the true magic of Suicide was all in the performance art which no recording can really capture. Legend has it that co-conspirator Alan Vega was inspired by the confrontational nature of an Iggy and The Stooges show and wanted to have a go at inciting audiences to violence. Suicide was notorious for having a knack at pissing off the crowd. They would come onstage and the booing would commence just from how they looked -like Art School felons escaped from a sanitarium. To envision their wild appearance coupled with the music makes that much more sense and of course would make for a much more entertaining experience. 

But Suicide, as a strictly audio experience has a short and quick shelf-life. After this post, I won't be due for another listen until the year 2030, and I may be deaf by then so perhaps I may never hear this joint again. Also, although there is a definite 'dystopian' feel to this album, one that urges me to hop into the whip at one in the morning and cruise 8th Street east of 27th Avenue to see what kind of dirt I can smudge on my face; the current health crisis makes nocturnal thrill-seeking a distant fantasy. Otherwise, I would have more reason to interact with this joint. The thought of hunting 'night-creatures' down the shadowy streets of Calle Ocho while bumping "Ghost Rider" makes for a perfect scene for when they make the bio-pic of my life... 

Do snatch this up, though, if you're a collector of music. If at all possible, shoot for the 2019 reissue on Mute Records (BMG). It comes with a beautiful layout that opens up like a hardcover book -it's really nice to look at and read from while listening.

  

Tombs - Monarchy Of Shadows EP

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Back in March, I reviewed Poison Idea's Pick Your King and the most recent EP by NY's Tombs titled Monarchy Of Shadows. Typically I publish reviews as standalone posts, but for some reason I reviewed these two pieces as part of a 'stream-of-consciousness' bit.

Now, fast forward four months to July... 

While shelving stacks of music that have accumulated upon my desk (yes, an actual desk now and not a mini-fridge), I came across the Tombs EP which I hadn't given a spin to in a couple of weeks. I decided to bump it before situating it in its permanent home ( in chronological order alongside the other five releases that I possess by Tombs.)

My liking towards Monarchy Of Shadows has not diminished one bit since my last listen. Whenever I slip into a Black Metal mood, this record will scratch my itch as much as a  Blaze In The Northern Sky or a De Mysteriis Dom Sathanas can -my apologies to any necro-sound ultra-purist that may have become appalled by such a notion.

It was upon this most recent listen that I realized this release deserves its respect, it deserves its own posting where it isn't mish-mashed into a hundred other mismanaged thoughts that my Latuda prescription can't seem to keep at bay. So I just busted out a cut and paste and created this post to properly honor this thing because as you are about to read (hopefully), this fucking record is no joke.

Again, I did not change the tense of the review, this is merely a cut-and-paste from the original mention in March, so if you read it and it seems out-dated its because it is, dumbass! So, without further ado, I present to you the review of Tombs sixth release, Monarchy Of Shadows:

  

(Reposted from March 30th) The new album by Brooklyn, NY's own Tombs titled Monarchy Of Shadows is a release that I have been looking forward to for quite some time, as with all of this NY Black Metal outfit's work. Fucking A, I literally ordered this shit yesterday morning and Amazon delivered it to my doorstep an hour ago. How's that for service amidst a global pandemic crisis? Jeff Bezos, you deserve a two-headed blowjob, every hour on the hour! I salute you, sir!

I discovered Tombs in 2006 when they were out promoting their second album Path Of Totality. I became interested in them initially based on the imagery which they incorporated. A lot of it seemed to make strong allusion to Thelema and other esoteric and occult schools. Around that time I was heavily interested in the likes so Tombs was a perfect fit which has stuck to this day.

Traditionally, Tombs sound has been a marriage of Black Metal, Sludge and Post-Metal (like Souls At Zero era Neurosis for example). There are some traces of a fondness for Swans that play into their previous work as well. Also, another influence present -which perhaps would be unavoidable to any extreme music band from the BK- is that of early '90s, breakdown-oriented Brooklyn Hardcore. However Monarchy Of Shadows seems to shed all additional flavor that has peppered prior records and seems to just storm through its 35 minute playlist with a stricter adherence to Black Metal orthodoxy than previously heard. There are still moshy breakdowns interspersed lightly throughout the proceedings but their use isn't as prevalent as it once was in their repertoire. Even all traces of synth, present on previous recordings, seems to have been significantly reduced since full-time keyboardist Fade Kainer's departure. I only detected synth on two tracks ("The Dark Rift" and "Once Falls The Guillotine"), and those are now performed courtesy of drummer Justin Spaeth. In an odd way (because I do hate synths in a Metal context) I miss that component of Tombs sound because it was always used to create this ambiance of deep space or the cosmos, which is a recurring theme I have surmised in Tombs lyrics (cosmic esotericism, or Astrotheology). 

In my opinion this is their best release to date which is saying a lot when considering that this band's catalog is nothing to thumb your nose at! Prior to Monarchy Of Shadows if someone were to ask me what is the ideal Tombs jump off, I would have referred them to Paths Of Totality. That will no longer be the case after this new addition to their anthology. On this new album they just rip it out at full speed ahead. It's an unrelenting ordeal. I am commanding you to jump on this. The recording may be a little too polished for you shit-sound die-hards, but for people like myself whose bread and butter isn't Black Metal and that appreciate being able to hear notes and chords clearly, this shit is on point. 

The art direction is really beautiful, as has always been with this band's work. As I had mentioned earlier their imagery was what fished me in initially. All of their work has had appropriately provocative art to accompany their dark, mythical sound (except for the Savage Gold cover which was a real piece of shit.) The front cover art is gorgeous to me, and the inside of the CD version carries on that clean motif in cream and blue, illustrating the same "skull-cup" from the cover in different perspectives. Lyrically you don't get your usual Satan and evil that most Black Metal bands have to offer. Rather, as stated earlier, Tombs writes mostly on an esoteric tip from a dark perspective but I don't think that the aim is to be 'evil' in some dopey way. Their music is dark and heavy, and so I feel that their arcane lines are only appropriate to accompany the mood of the work. Yo, fuck what I think, you smelly little pinks, hook up quick-fast! It's like $11 bucks on Amazon Prime meaning you'll get it by tomorrow. Hook up now!

The Day The Laughter Died

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I don't care for stand-up comedy! 

I don't know... I think I'm just way too bitter of a guy to allow some jester/buffoon to make me crack a smile -it annoys me. (Leave me alone, what do you want from me?!)  

I'm too angry and way too accustomed to not letting people see me smile to indulge in stand-up. In fact, the mere suggestion of anyone trying to pry the yucks out of me is downright offensive. When I want to laugh, I'll make myself laugh! 

(Believe you me, there's more than plenty to laugh about at my life...) 

Having said that, I find that comedians are brilliant people (besides being somewhat neurotic and considerably angry, like myself sans the brilliance.) According to my psychiatrist, a sense of humor is the clearest cut sign of intellect. It is because of this that -to me- the advent of the podcast is probably one of the greatest mediums of the new world. I can listen to two (or more) comedians just yenta-it-up for an hour or two because I love listening to witty, introspective conversation and animated storytelling. If there is but one unifying trait of all reasonably successful comics besides intellect, it is wit. 

      In 1990, Andrew "Dice" Clay was the biggest stand-up on the planet. Dice had been putting in work since 1978, though not in the "Dice Man" persona yet. He mostly did impressions and characters, amongst those characters was a Fonzie-esque bit that very well may have been the early precursor to the "Dice" shtick. His 1989 debut album Dice went gold, which used to mean something, and one year later Clay became the first comedian to sell-out Madison Square Garden two nights in a row. He was the embodiment of the "Rock N' Roll Comic", nevermind that hump Kinison. I never got Kinison's shtick anyways!  But Dice, on the other hand, was a fucking supernova! Just think of his dirty nursery rhymes as an example! When had anybody before ever seen a comedian who would setup the jokes and the audience would deliver the punchlines in unison? It was unheard of!

... and then he got cocky!

In February of 1990, produced by Rick Rubin, the Dice Man released a double live album that was recorded during an unannounced show at a small venue over the preceding Christmas holiday -a 'word-of-mouth' spot at Dangerfield's on First Avenue in NYC. Not only did the Dice Man not announce the show, he did near 2 hours on stage without any prepared material whatsoever -NO SAFETY NET! 

Did you grasp that? I said, TWO HOURS WITH ZERO MATERIAL PREPARED!!! Take it from someone who has gotten up on a stage more than a handful of times; to get up there for a mere 5 minutes with no material would seem like a nightmarish eternity, but Dice did two fucking hours! Let that marinate for a second.

The Day The Laughter Died accomplished something that no other comedy album or televised special has in a very long time... it made me laugh out loud! Not only that, but too further illustrate its comedic potency, it made me laugh out loud just prior to my separation/divorce; in other words, even under barren grey skies the Diceman had me howling, tearing up in laughter. I sat on the front porch of what was soon to be a broken home the night that I revisited this '8th Grade-throwback' with my headphones on for two hours without moving as I listened to it. Who would have ever convinced me that "the Dice Man's" shtick would provide solace for a wailing soul?

The album has a great pace to it, probably attributable to Dice having to take subtle pauses between every line (as he tries to figure out the next words out of his mouth.)  Also, Rubin does a great job of capturing the small club vibe. You can almost envision the presumably smoky scene in your mind as you listen. Dice goes through the entire set without having to want for a lit Marlboro as you can physically hear him taking his stylistically exaggerated drags off of his cigarettes. The clinging ice cubes in the drinks of the club patrons heard faintly in the background is a nice touch too, lending even more atmosphere to this presumable comedy classic. 

His crowd-work is fantastic, and it feels as if most of the material came from goofing on those in attendance! He berates the audience, prompting many to walk out on him during his performance, a display with which Dice takes major umbrage with an addresses hilariously. Dice's material runs the gamut here from brilliant to downright cringeworthy; but yet you can't stop listening. I recall one particular bit about Native Americans that did not extract a single laugh, instead inspiring a gasping silence from the audience. I myself cringed so hard I almost shattered my teeth!

I don't know that Dice's shit would wash in the hyper politically correct age that we live in. Dice is from a time in space that humanity will never be able to get back to - I'm referring to when we had a sense of humor. Sure, there's elements of misogyny, sexism and racial stereotypes in his work; but "Dice", as such, is just a character very much in the way that Andy Kaufman was a character ( Kaufman was a stupid one, but one no less). Clay's facade of the Brooklyn mook from Sheep's Head Bay is should be ridiculously obvious. Only a nimrod would not find it apparent that it's a caricature -or perhaps even the stand-up version of method acting. True, Dice is more male-oriented humour (ooh, humour with a 'u', how European), but that's okay! I mean, for Thoth sake, can men have their secret lodge where we can practice a little misogyny strictly for cathartic purposes?! It's okay for broads to have their 'men-are-from-Mars' shit but we can't get a couple of shits-and-giggles from some blow-job jokes without having to get #ME TOO tattooed on our taint?

This comedy album is highly recommended for some get-high shit. I strongly advise a fat spliff of some dank ass weed, a set of headphones, and then following this link to Youtube where you can viddy well, little droogies, viddy well. A 10mg dose of Diazepam (or 5mg on an empty stomach) would also go very well with the ambience of this recording and I highly recommend it (even though I substituted Diazepam with 1.5mg of Ativan.) This entertainment recommendation is especially advisable now that the Grim Reaper is hovering above us again, wearing a ridiculous blonde wig and an Estee Lauder spray tan, preparing to unleash a giant COVID-saturated sneeze over America and a second lockdown (a more draconian one at that) is imminent. You're going to be needing more great entertainment suggestions from your droog and narrator to pass quarantine, such as the one I made back in March when the Black Plague Redux first popped off, and this one here is a great start. Think of it as a comedy album that "sounds black and white"! Think of it as comedic art! As Dice himself says on this record "this isn't about laughter, this is about comedy." Does that make sense?! To me, it absolutely does!

That's all I've got for now... My pseudo-journalist member feels like it has been thoroughly stroked to completion for the time being. And so, as I once again shoot my load into the web, further infecting the internet with my completely unsolicited cyber-gonorrhea, I continue to indulge and fulfill this silly notion that I have legitimate opinions on certain things and someone out there cares to read them. Whether it is to your delight or to your chagrin, that remains to be determined. If the latter is the case, then don't you wish that you could email the Coronavirus to me so that maybe I'd fucking die? Hypothetically speaking, if this was possible, you can infect me by sending the strain of COVID that you isolated from your mother's cunt to the official Misanthropaganda email addy, which is:

 misanthropaganda@yahoo.com?

Or, on the other hand, if you can't wait to see what bullshit I'll come up with next, follow me on the 'Gram for updates on new posts. Search for me, and ye will find me at:

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