By Kidwell King
It’s not often that a band provides a musical experience you can equate to ballroom dancing with a jackhammer. If that sounds enticing, pick up the latest record by the Coachwhips, Bangers Versus Fuckers, a messy eighteen minutes of pure, nearly indecipherable brimstone out on Narnack Records. This slab of wax must be played at full ear-pillaging volume, but this isn’t just needless noise. There’s something lurking deep within the sonic onslaught of this album, and without the volume, you’ll never hear past the static.
The San Francisco-based trio is made up of John Dwyer on guitar, a cat-in-heat communiqué they call “the vox,” secret weapon Val-Tronic on keys, and Mat Hartman on drums. The keyboards are really what distinguish this band, adding a chrome-like sheen to the trash sculpture. Val’s keys lash out from the metallic walls of Dwyer’s guitar, like some lewd sex-slicked ghost out to disrupt your pulse. Continue reading
By Andy Martin
Well, truth be told it was just a little over eleven months that I was the bass player for the Bulemics. I would join the band about six months after the Reclusives had broken-up, and had made a few attempts with Tim Storm (Reclusives, Gargoyles) to start a different band. Tim, at this point, had begun to “settle down” and ease into civilian life (eg: not singing for bands). Not that I didn’t try to keep him out of retirement. Every guitar player I would suggest, he would rip apart over preposterous shit like facial hair– that is, if he couldn’t challenge his playing. Anything he could think of to politely say “no” to climbing back on stage. Finally, I got the hint. I started talking to Gable Barber of the Bulemics (then lead guitarist) about playing bass after they’d dropped their original bassist, Daniel Claypool. Gerry was in a “work release” program after racking up two DWI’s in the span of two months (on one he almost hit a cop car at a stop sign leaving a titty bar). Gerry would go to work, but had to be back in “lock-up” by sun down. That meant no rehearsals or shows. With the down time, they were in search of a new bassist. The reasoning behind letting Daniel go was this: he had a habit of getting real fucked up. Instead of playing, he would just start giving people the finger in the middle of a song. Which looks real cool, but sounds like real shit. I mean, hey, I had a habit of getting real fucked up when I played, but I could maintain rhythm most of the time. Continue reading
By Courtney Jerk
“Outside of whatever historical interest this record may have, it is the work of a man who was as good a singer/songwriter as he was a human being…
-Kenneth M. Cassidy, on LIE: The Love And Terror Cult LP
The other day, my mother and I were sitting in the living room, when I decided to do a little experiment. I told her that I wanted to play a song for her, and that I wanted her to tell me what she thought about it. I played “Look At Your Game Girl,” from the LIE album. While it played, I asked her if she liked the song. She said that she did, and asked who was singing. I didn’t answer her, and instead asked if she thought that the man singing had a good voice. She thought that he did. I waited until the song was over to tell her that it was actually Charles Manson singing and playing guitar. She scowled, and immediately tried to take back everything she had said just moments before. My mother acted as though she had been duped into spilling some kind of juicy family secret, or like she had just admitted to owning all of David Haselhoff’s albums, even the hard to find imports like Hooked on a Feeling. Nothing so horrible, fortunately Continue reading
By Courtney Jerk & Max Dropout
“Cease to resist, come on say you love me
Give up your world, come on and be with me
I’m your kind, I’m your kind, and I see”
Fans of the Beach Boys may recognize the above lyrics from the song “Never Learn Not To Love,” a B-side for the 20/20 LP’s first single, “Bluebirds over the Mountain.” What they might not be aware of is that “Never Learn Not To Love” is, in actuality, a Charles Manson song. Originally titled “Cease to Exist,” Dennis Wilson made a few minor lyrical changes and re-titled it before recording it in 1968. Lyrical credit was given solely to Wilson, much to Manson’s dismay and anger.
Charles Manson is generally perceived by the public as a figure of revulsion and fear: a societal poster boy for the dangers of dementia — a scruffy pack of bones putrefying in the flower power movement’s closet. However, prior to the notorious Manson Family murders, Charlie was largely perceived as a charismatic and talented folk musician, well known amongst a network of Hollywood actors and actresses, record producers, promoters and rock stars at the time. While many recognised Manson’s almost eerie ability to coerce and control the minds of those around him with his catchy chatter and sedative aura, few would have ever imagined it would yield so much bloodshed and tragedy. Continue reading