Barcelona's Belgrado fulfills the yearlong wishes of 'MisanthroPub' Editor-in-Chief. Their two LPs Obraz and Siglo XXI are finally on CD format!!!!!!!!!

 

This is going to be a brief, dialed-in post. I have been graced this week with a visit from the heir to the Misanthropaganda Publications empire, and so he's the boss until Sunday night and all of my time he has made clear, is to be at his disposal. I do have a window of freedom to write between the hours of about 2 or 3AM when I typically awaken hours prior to junior's rise and shine. I get a lot of work done in the early morning while the Son of Wolf sleeps.

However, this week, those windows were all booked up for desk clearing. First and most important, I had to write an email to an extremely important person that woefully for the receiver I couldn't keep under 2,600 words. Madonna! That poor person's precious eyes are going to glaze over! I tend to be long handed, particularly when trying to impress someone. Three thousand word emails indicate that the recipient is serious, no-joke business as I would say.

Also, tomorrow morning (Sunday) I need to write another lengthy email. Only the one that I will be writing tomorrow is to my attorney. This publishing house shit, if I'm going to do it for real, is going to be a money pit. I am aware of that. Regardless, an attorney is the first thing I need if I'm going to project any shadow of professionalism, and so I have secured one. I like him. He's mishpoche like me (according to 23&me). He looks like Bob Odenkirk. There was a catch, though. He took me on without making me pay his retainer fee upfront because, well, I don't have it. So, on the promise of a handshake and the power of my word and eye contact, he agreed to begin the wheels in motion on the condition that my stimulus check gets kicked up to him. (Bloodsuckin', ambulance-chasin'...) An accountant is required as well, but I've got the same guy for almost 20 years. He's good! He told me that every time I have more than one dinner and drinks that I can claim it as a write off, saying that it was a meeting with potential talent, another publisher, etc. Of course, printing costs, the logistics of shipping, all of that falls under the umbrella as well. I'm going to lose my shirt on this one, this last hair-brain scheme I've concocted for the Final 22 of acting like a writer, but I don't give a fuck. I want to lose my shirt, I'm dying to get naked! 

I may try to post something up mid-week, because Lord Teardrop has struck again with another quatrain, live and direct from my current watering hole. In fact, it was a quatrain for her, a quatrain for him, one for Jane and one for Jim... a quatrain for everybody! Creativity can be maddening, and if I do not evacuate this influx of words bouncing around in my head, my sanity will burn away twice faster than it is supposed to. Be careful what you wish for, aspiring writers, those that beg for a even a little ladle of alphabet soup will often get served three portions! Eventually, there comes a time to purge...

Nevertheless, I absolutely had to remark on how anxiously I am anticipating a package from Barcelona that will provide endless means of dopamine release in my badly bruised and depleted brain. No, I wish, but it's not "China" coming from Barcelona. It's actually better than China White, I think, since I wouldn't know how that feels (yet). The most recent addition to my "List of the Ten", a living and breathing Honor Roll that delineates ten bands that I cannot exist without, has been so kind to issue their two LPs Obraz and SigloXXI on CD format after my wishing it so since I discovered them in 2019.

I discovered Belgrado when I reviewed their hometown colleagues, the 'Anarcho-Post-Punk' band Sect. Sect's drummer, the inimitable Patrycja Proniewska (Polish-born, Spanish-raised) was also doubling as the vocalist for the Post-Punk (some say "Coldwave") band Belgrado. 

I thought that possessing Belgrado's music was a fantasy, since they had not released on any other tangible format other than vinyl, which I will not make the switch to. In fact, once those last couple of slots in my collection are stuffed snuggly (by next year's end likely), my collecting days end and my streaming days begin. Mind you, this collection does not include digital stuff that I've compiled as well. So there's a little bit over a third of my collection not represented in my shrine. Enough! YouTube and Spotify will do!

I have reviewed Belgrado twice before on here. One of those posts has been purged at year end clean up, because I was gushing more than cogently arguing their finer points, but a post from January 29, 2020, one that is less incoherent remains up until I revisit them at length once my discs have arrived and I have the chance to spin them on my equipment with their album layout in my hands (that's important to me, its part of the whole package, it's all part of the mood.)

I wish that anyone as broken as I could find this much happiness for just 30Euros. Belgrado is, as of 2019, a member of the List of the Ten, and I am so happy that I have finally paid for all of the enjoyment that they provide my life with. I am also grateful that for just 30Euros, I can store their art in my collection, which gives my life more meaning and worth. Art is love. Love is the Law. The law is that the Final 22 (reference from my novel) must be poetry... will be poetry.

In the meantime, I sign off with the taste that got me hooked, like some fine China White. I have embedded Belgrado's video-clip for the the song "Jeszcze Raz" (which is Polish for "once more" or "once again"). This is how I discovered them and still play this song ad nauseum. I love the video's tone, but most of all, I ADORE PATRYCJA PRONIEWSKA! She has such presence, such character, that this band wouldn't have the mood it is capable of conveying without that face of hers. Enjoy, and stay in contact, for soon my package will be arriving and I am going to delve on my favorite contemporary Post-Punk band. 

contact us : misanthropaganda@yahoo.com    

on Instagram: misanthropaganda_publications

Ministry -The Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Taste-

  note: misanthropaganda is so much more fun when you view it on your desktop or laptop if you happen to have one. If you do, I'd much rather that you viddy this when you are back at your desk and on the clock (trying to kill time) instead of on the phone while taking a shit. Your tablet is fine I guess, as is your phone, but for full enjoyment and understanding of the artist's (ha ha) vision, take my suggestion. It gives the posts a look that's a bit more reminiscent of an old 90's fanzine layout, which is the whole point of this bullshit blog. I mean, for Christ's sake, I've been noting this for two years and change. Yet, you're still looking at this on your phone. What's a matter with you? What are you stupid? Fine, suit yourself...

I don't know what the fuck I did, but in trying to edit the background theme on the blog, I ended up switching the whole header and now it feels like I am writing as a guest on someone else's page. I have no idea how to fix the header, so I had to improvise one in order to fill the  big black square that now hangs at the top of the blog where the name used to be. Ever had one of those days in which everything you touch is certain to turn into shit? Today is one of those. (Better avoid masturbating today!)

 I started the day off with an unlikely selection that came from way out of left field... left field of Wrigley Park... with a Cuban outfielder... who is shooting 'manteca' into his veins. 

My Thoth, that opening sentence was magic. Unfortunately, I must undermine it's strength by explaining it for my readers of a slower wit. I referenced Wrigley Park as it is located in Chicago, the artistic home plate of the "Cuban outfielder" whose name is Al Jourgensen. He is the dreadlocked Voltron-head of Ministry (and a thousand other projects under the Wax Trax Records banner, including one that features Ian Mackaye). Yes, that's right, Jourgensen is Cuban. He's my paisano. The Scandinavian sounding surname he carries is that of his stepfather. 

I get the sense that Jourgensen is a polarizing figure in "Industrial Music", that perhaps some may see him as a prophet and others may see him as a heretic; but like him or hate him you can't have an intelligent, credible conversation regarding the topic of this genre and not mention him. The 1989 Ministry album The Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Taste should be noted at some point during any hypothetical debate such as that which I have previously described.

This was Ministry's undeniable high watermark that solidified a following, one they would carry over with them for the commercially successful Psalm 69. Psalm 69 went on to go platinum -a feat made reality by the release of the album's  first single "Jesus Built My Hot Rod" on MTV and a subsequent spot as headliners on the second Lollapalooza tour. After Lollapalooza they would go on to tour Europe with Sepultura and Helmet, furthering the fan base even more -totaling to even more record sales.

[By the way... There must be something with me and the M's. I swear I didn't plan it this way, but there has been an 'M' theme as of the last two days. I came from work  yesterday and ran Midnight's Rebirth By Blasphemy backed by Mercyful Fate's The Beginning. Then this morning I popped it off with Melvins' Stoner Witch followed by Meat Beat Manifesto's Satyricon. Then, one more blind grab would produce this Ministry record.] 

This album needs to be resurrected because it occurred to me just how relevant it has become once again. 'Mind' is Ministry's fourth in succession of a fourteen album discography. On this clear fan favorite, Ministry underwent a stylistic change that impacted Industrial Music as it was then known and created a new faction of the sound with a thousand imitators. By incorporating distorted guitar and riffing inspired by Thrash Metal (the likes of S.O.D. to name one noted influence), Ministry created a new offshoot of Industrial that you could now mosh to instead of lifelessly swaying side to side by. 

I saw the change with my own two eyes, at local Miami night spots of the early 90s such as Another World, the Red Room or the legendary Kitchen Club -establishments that catered to creeps and weirdos. They went from playing shit like "Warm Leatherette" -the goths having full control of the floor, dancing almost motionlessly while smoking clove cigarettes, till one night they played Ministry's "Thieves" and the riot squad was almost called in when Punks, wannabe Skins and regular aggro-knuckleheads started tearing that place apart to the tremolo riff on that cut.

This record has tremendous rhythm to it. It is physically compelling, not even for a second losing it's danceability under the hardened layers caked onto it by the guitar work and the generous use of sampling. All Thrash flirtation aside, forget not that Ministry comes from a synth-pop origin (having toured early on in support of Depeche Mode no less), that is to say that Jourgensen's most primal drive as a musician is the urge to make a crowd move. There is nothing wrong with dance music, it can be dark and edgy and just as "Punk" as anything else.

 Really, its the topical content that makes this record so relevant in 2021. As with all of Ministry's work, the lyrics deal with political corruption, violence and anti-establishment themes. Given the state of this country, I can't think of a better time for an album of this nature. There is a timeless pertinence to their sound on this release -it doesn't sound dated at all. A classic is a classic no matter what! Regardless of its lasting relativity, the zeitgeist is practically begging for this album to be revisited by the youth of the day. (I just chuckled to myself. Back when this came out, we thought that WE were living in a dark time and had something to be angry about. LOL.) 

Also, on a more personal note, Mind is extremely evocative and if you write such as myself (who often writes 'steam of consciousness' pieces to music) then I strongly recommend this joint. As I soaked the record in I envisioned about a hundred scenarios that were inspired by the music. As I listened to it, it conjured a single word in my head that I repeated like a mantra to myself throughout the proceedings -"Cyber Punk". Mind sounds like the score of some dystopian sci-fi flick. 

I typically don't go tip-toeing into the Industrial lot all too often, so Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste was a nice change of pace today and a reminder of yet another gem lurking in my archives, waiting for its moment to be called upon. I may pick up Psalm 69 if I find a good deal for a used copy on Amazon. I owned the cassette version of it when I was in High School, only Thoth knows where that could have ended up.

(I just set it up for some wise-guy reader to suggest: "Perhaps it's up your ass!")

Asere, tremenda pinta!

I really can't cherry-pick from this one -it really is that good as a unit. I place this joint in a pantheon of albums that I can play from beginning to end seamlessly and once through you just hit play again without thinking twice. Still, knowing full well that few will actually devote the lousy 45 minutes of running time required to sit your ass down and give this joint full attention, I will note the following:

-The first three tracks are fire ("Thieves", "Burning Inside" and "Never Believe")

-"So What" is also exceptional. If you come to agree, check their live version from a release called In Case You Didn't Feel Like Showing Up.

So give this album a gander and see what's doing in there. Why not?! It is from the golden age of, well, everything. Alas, I have sentimental reasons to revisit this work. It transports me to its time of release, back to the days of Yesterday And Today Record Shop on Red Road (R.I.P.), to Miami college radio's hey day and reminds me of the influx of music that I was discovering around that time. Man, 1989 was the fucking shit!

On to other matters now, never mind Alain Jourgensen. As for this whole 'publishing house' business, the term 'Misanthropaganda' has finally been given utility as it is now the name of the new label/publishing house that I have created to release my first four books. I had stated way back in the infancy of this blog how I had coined the term Misanthropaganda and wanted to put it to a good use. I've created in a backwards process before, where the work is structured around a title as opposed to vice versa. It is the reason that I started this blog in the first place -just to lock down the Misanthropaganda name; but a dopey blog still didn't do this cool name justice. Fast forward two/three years later and the epiphany is arrived at to aptly christen myself with the name (under the context of a publisher).

 The first two releases for the "label" have already been written. These are Diazepam Dreams, a fiction novel to be printed by this Spring (as soon as I get that Stimmy Cash bay-bay), and Death Metal Phone Sex which is a collection of poems and writings. That one I can press once I've payed off my fucking divorce lawyer. 

Diazepam Dream cover

Diazepam Dreams is ready to go, only waiting on $500 to fall out of somebody's pocket (the IRS's hopefully) so that I can press the first hundred copies which will be hand numbered. Death Metal Phone Sex is also written in full but is being edited. DMPS is scheduled to be printed shortly after the fall, although it may get pushed back further because I find that I continuously add to it during editing. This project seemed to have written itself. It was immensely satisfying to write. 

Death Metal Phone Sex cover

The other two titles, Curbs And Ledges and Broads are in progress, currently being written simultaneously (same as I did with Diazepam and DMPS). This explosion of creativity manufactured the need to create Misanthropaganda Publications. Since I'm the poor hump who is printing these things out of pocket, might as well give myself a snazzy title like Editor-in-chief! Shit, my croquette got chubby after typing the end of that last sentence...

I have begun making some inquiries in regards to distribution. As far as on a local level, I'm looking into whatever indie bookstores are still around and as soon as I have something in stone I will plaster it up and down this blog as well as on social media @misanthropaganda_blogspot...

OK... That's it! Listen to the Ministry joint... In fact, here, follow this link.

[Holy fuck, I just blindly reached for a CD at random and pulled out Mastodon. WTF! Maybe I should figure out the numeric value of M and then play it in the Cash 3. How much is the jackpot on that thing, like $500? That'll work. That's $350 towards the first hundred pressings, and $150 for a hooker. I'm sorry, not a hooker, an escort. Oh, come on, don't cringe! I haven't fucked a woman in so long that I don't even think I remember how to!] 

send cyber-Gonnoreah to misanthropaganda@yahoo.com

Besitos!

Flipping for Flipper's third album titled LOVE

 note: misanthropaganda is so much more fun when you view it on your desktop or laptop. Your tablet is fine I guess, as is your phone, but for full enjoyment and understanding of the artist's (ha ha) vision, take my suggestion. It gives the posts a look that's a bit more reminiscent of an old 90's fanzine layout, which is the whole point of this bullshit blog. I mean, for Christ's sake, I've been noting this for two years. What's a matter with you? What are you stupid?

It's not that I showed up late to the Flipper party, it's that I proactively avoided them out of sheer disinterest. There was a reason for that (stupid as it may be), which is that I have always fucking hated Nirvana (with the later exception of Dave Grohl). First of all, their sound -meh; but there were more personal reasons that frosted my ass over Nirvana beyond that. When Nirvana broke with their sophomore effort Nevermind, the belabored accessibility of their sound at that point built a bridge for all of the jocks and preppy fucks in my town to cross over and away from Achtung Baby-era U2 and into a convoy of 'teen spirit' bandwagons. For that reason, I have always associated Nirvana with early mainstream appropriation of counter-culture. My high school associates and myself took a very averse position to the "Grunge" explosion of the early 90s. Lots of the musically decent bands that laid the groundwork of the sound had been doing their thing for years before the term "Grunge" was coined as a genre. They just weren't fortunate to have cute lead singers. 

(And what the fuck was with that dumb term? "Grunge". What the fuck is that? There were about fifty different sounds coming out of this so-called "Grunge" scene, so the term must have been reference to a look or an aesthetic rather than a musical formula. Producer Jack Endino said it best when he said that "Grunge" was nothing more than "a continuation of 70s Hard Rock with Punk ethos added to the mix". 

What does that have to do with Flipper? Well, Nirvana, whose members formed the Triumvirate of the Grunge explosion were the biggest proponents of Flipper ever. Quite frankly, I had never even heard of Flipper before seeing Cobain wearing homemade Flipper t-shirts to photoshoots. As a result, I made Flipper guilty by association, stupidly. (It's the same reason that I ignored the Melvins till about 2006.)

So, how did my ignorant avoidance of Flipper thankfully end? Well, thanks to Hank Rollins. After hearing the audio version of  his book Get In The Van a couple of decades ago, I was particularly interested in what Henry had to say anecdotally about Flipper. It motivated me to acquire Generic, their debut. That album came into my life at the most opportune moment possible. I was having a torrid love affair with Barbiturates around the time and Flipper goes with downers like Biscotti goes with an Espresso. You go ahead and eat about 15 to 20mgs of Valium and then crank either "Life Is Cheap" or "I Saw You Shine" (take your pick) and tell me if you don't have a kooky trip -an angry, pill head trip where you'll bang your fists against the wall till they look like Sharon Tate's living room. ("I Saw You Shine" inspired an entire section of my novel Diazepam Dreams. Shameless plug!)

  I ran that disc until all that was left of it was the clear plastic ring in the center of the CD. So from there, I jumped on their second LP, Gone Fishin'. On Gone Fishin', Flipper picks up right where its predecessor left off with a slight elevation of chops. They sound a little tighter but much cleaner. The base of the sound is still there, using certain elements (tactics, really) to annoy and irritate the listener at times. Flipper's rudimentary yet absurdist lyrical style greatly influenced Nirvana's approach at turning a non-phrase (Melvins as well, I think). Other than the heightened musicianship, Gone Fishin' is a continuation of Generic, that's to say that you can't own one and not own the other. That's also to say that if you don't like Generic, don't bother with its follow-up. The last two tracks on Gone Fishin' are superb! "You Nought Me" is accompanied by a vertigo-inducing piano performance that could easily lead to the questioning of your own sanity and the closer "One By One" is Flipper in an unusually melancholic form. I'm a sucker for down tempo, so "One By One" in all of its moody, minimal simplicity may be my second favorite Flipper song next to "I Saw You Shine".

Finally, my music wish list got around to Flipper's third studio album titled Love. When it arrived at my current habitat, I opened the jewel case only to find the moronic face of Nirvana bassist Kris Novoselic standing amongst the three original members of the band. Novoselic was given the nod as the replacement for original bassist turned worm-food Will Shatter. "Motherfucker", I yelled to myself. "I want a refund!" I never wanted that dope's face poking around anywhere near my illustrious music collection. He just looks dense, like Private Snowball and creepish. Because of the earlier mentioned fandom for Flipper by Kurt Cobain and Novoselic with zeal, the former was nothing more than a likely fit for the substitute slot based on his devotion if anything else. "Well, I might as well listen to the fucker", I grumbled to myself, sliding in the disc and strapping in for the ride. This fucking thing blew my mind! Furthermore, Kris Novoselic is probably the undisputed MVP of this joint. I was left at the end of the 43 minute record with a whole lot of egg on my face, which is ironic retribution from Novoselic himself whose head is shaped like an egg. 

(Now be vewy vewy quiet... He's hunting wabbits...)

As stated at the beginning, I am not at all familiar with Niravana's work outside of their debut album Bleach, which I did own at one point but don't remember it at all (what does that tell you), and of course radio-play. With this I am making the point that I am not acquainted with Novoselic's chops. However, I have to give it to the guy, the big lummox lays it down. His attack is so driving, and the churning tone of his bass is front and center throughout the whole record. The earlier mentioned Jack Endino has had plenty of history twisting knobs on Novoselic (and on the console too). The two go back to Nirvana's debut, and I suppose if anybody knows how to get a performance out of this guy it would be Endino. Many of the tracks seem as if they were written upon Novoselic's riffs. 

Ok, ok, enough of him already. The other noteworthy performance on Love is that of singer Bruce Loose. Adapting a more gravelly, throatier approach, his vocals are a perfect fit for some of the sludgier, dare I say "Grungy" numbers like "Why Can't You See" and especially the closer "Old Graves" which again -is structured upon Kris Novoselic's bassline. Bruce Loose updated his style by just a notch, shedding a bit of those off-key bellows from early works (which were probably elemental to their formula of obnoxiousness) and replacing it with a nasty sounding sneer. Sneering seems to be the subtext of this whole album, which marauds the senses with its contemptuous tone. I would suggest this record as a jump-off to someone who has yet heard Flipper just as easily as I would recommend their debut. 

So I guess the moral of this story is that Kris Novoselic isn't such a bad chap after all. Ugh, I'd hate to think that there might be Nirvana songs lurking in their back catalog that I may find enjoyable. I'd gladly admit it if I was wrong about them, its just you'll never get me to agree to review the evidence.

Smooches...

Oh yeah, and by the way, some of you that read this probably thought "Hey man, why'd you go so hard on Novoselic?" (Ugh, typical millennial softness!) Listen, I'm sure that Kris Novoselic whose sitting at home on a sectional couch made of thousand dollar bills gives a lumberjack's pube about what some gavone sitting on a lap-top at 1AM on a Thursday morning thinks about him. He'll be alright!
 

News flash: We interrupt this blog post as news has just come off of the AP wire that Kris Novoselic killed himself. Investigators say he did it after reading some stupid blog online that hurt his feelings...

Oh Shit!