From Man Man's forthcoming Dream Hunting in the Valley of the In-Between, the band's first album since 2013's On Oni Pond. You can pre-order the new record from Sub Pop HERE.
As much as I love Man Man, they had completely fallen off my radar until, maybe two or three months ago, I went through a little jag with 2011's Life Fantastic. Then, a few days ago, Mr. Brown messaged me about the new record, and now I find myself quite anxious for May 1st and the first new record by the group in seven years.
What I did find while digging around in Apple Music, was that Man Man released an EP in 2019, two songs, both of which are fantastic, but one I adore. Here's that song, too:
**
Having been in something of a funk the last week or so, I left work a skosh early yesterday with the desire to do nothing more than recharge by watching a couple flicks. I went with Benson and Moorehead's Resolution and The Endless, the second of which I'd watched before, October 2018, and not really liked. The links for my micro reviews on Letterbxd are linked to each title, suffice it to say, I loved Resolution, and it is now my opinion in order to fully appreciate the themes and situations of The Endless, you have to watch them one after the other. Not necessarily in one sitting, but it helps. Both are exceptional films - I'm really kind of staggered by the elegance of The Endless and its metaphors, and now I can't wait for the two creators' next film, Synchronic, which seems as though it should have already been released, and which I'm pretty sure will deal with Flower, the hallucinogenic plant people smoke in both films.
Normally, I'd post trailers, but I think any pre-knowledge will ultimately take away from both films, so I figured I'd use the awesome poster art and be done with it. Resolution is currently streaming on Prime, and The Endless is on Netflix.
**
Playlist:
Man Man - Cloud Nein (pre-release single)
Man Man - Beached (Single)
Nick Lowe - Jesus of Cool
Neon Kross - Darkness Falls
Thundercat - Dragonball Durag (pre-release single)
Parliament - Mothership Connection
**
Card:
Lots of red, with authoritarian overtones. Mars. Pretty sure this is a sign to pull myself up out of my funk and get back to work.
It’s been years since the groundbreaking debut of black metal band Angelus Mortis, and that first album, Henosis, has become a classic of the genre, a harrowing primal scream of rage and anger. With the next two albums, Fields of Punishment and Telos, Angelus Mortis cemented a reputation for uncompromising, aggressive music, impressing critics and fans alike. But the road to success is littered with temptation, and over the next decade, Angelus Mortis’s leader, Max, better known as Strigoi, became infamous for bad associations and worse behavior, burning through side-men and alienating fans.
Today, at the request of their record label, Max and new drummer Roland are traveling to Ukraine to record a comeback album with the famously reclusive cult act Wisdom of Silenus. What they discover when they get there will go far deeper than the aesthetics of the genre, and the music they create–antihuman, antilife–ultimately becomes a weapon unto itself.
Equally inspired by the fractured, nightmarish novels of John Hawkes, the blackened dreamscapes of cosmic-pessimist philosophy, and the music of second-wave black metal bands, author David Peak’s Corpsepaint is an exploration of creative people summoning destructive powers while struggling to express what it means to be human.
Cover Art by Pieter Bruegel the Elder
Cover Design by Scott R Jones
Pub Date: April 30, 2018
New installment of Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying went up yesterday. Read it HERE on Joup.
Playlist for 4/05:
Cypress Hill - III: Temples of Boom
Alice in Chains - Dirt
Soundgarden - Down on the Upside
Black Sabbath - Sabotage
Preoccupations - New Material
Card for the day:
There is some extremely fascinating reading on this card HERE. I don't have time this morning to comb that particular text for correspondences to my daily life, so I'm going with the idea that The Magus reminds us of the creative Will that shapes all life. Self-manifestation, which fits because I intend to finish editing the last two stories in the anthology today or tomorrow, then it's just shoring up the cover art.
Happy Birthday Jake! Still miss you my friend. You've missed a lot... but then again, a lot of what you've missed isn't exactly great, so maybe you're better off. Still, I think about you damn near everyday. Here's one of our favorites:
I'm going to supersede the Divine Feminine thing I've been doing with my listening for a Jake day today, in honor of my one-time best friend who passed away when we were twenty-two. It would be his forty-second birthday today (let's be honest, there was no way he was making it this far). Jake and I had a lot of music in common; we'd spend hours smoking pot and just listening. Tried to do a few bands at certain points. One of those, Second Attention, was pretty damn good. Maybe one day I'll upload some of that stuff to youtube or, actually, I'll probably do a band camp. Regardless, Sabotage was one of those albums we analyzed endlessly, and Meglomania in particular, underwent heavy scrutiny to its lyrics, which are amazing.
New Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying going up later today.
Playlist from yesterday:
Jucifer - If Thine Enemy Hunger
Witchcryer - Cry Witch
Myrkur - M
Amy Winehouse - Back to Black
Foster the People - Torches
Ministry - Psalm 69
Curtis Harding - Face Your Fear
Windhand - Grief's Infernal Flower
Cocksure - TVMALSV
Card for the day:
"Physical prosperity, abundance, and material success."
Nice to see with annual reviews just around the corner and me working my arse off constantly. Also, always good to remember this card represents the total of the spheres of the Quaballahistic Tree of Life: Kether, Chokmah, Binah, Chesed, Geburah, Tipareth, Netzach, Hod, Yesod, and Malkuth - the last being the sphere of Disks as well as that of tens.
3:20 AM Thursday, May 18, 2017: I wake up sweating as the last of this damnable sickness that has stopped up K and my lives for the last week or so eeks its way from my pores. Unsure if it's near my alarm time I check my phone and see a message from Seth. I click it and read:
I find it hard to fall asleep again after this but eventually I do. This isn't world shattering like Bowie, but it's deeply terrible. And despite the sleep interruption I'm glad this is how I find out; just like when my friend Tori messaged me "David Bowie Died" early in the morning almost a year and a half ago now, seeing news of this magnitude while my brain is still halfway stuck in The Dreaming is a shock that helps cement the event as historical, i.e. I'll always remember where I was. All that said, the way in which I process this news is far more complex than I would have anticipated.
During their initial run Soundgarden was one of my favorite bands. This favor carried on well after their dissolution and although the feelings aren't quite as strong these days I wouldn't say they've waned so much as learned to share. They were one of four bands that Jake - my best friend in my late teens/early twenties - and I shared passionate attachment to the way late teens/early twenties friends often do. And there were layers to our love of these bands, Soundgarden in particular as it wasn't just Cornell as a frontman. They - along with these other bands* - were of the few where I learned to see how ever member of a group could bring something to the table to help construct such a staggering whole (for an example of this play the album version of Fourth of July really loud or on headphones). But Chris Cornell's voice - it defied description. I always 'got' why some people hated it, the sometimes grating, shrill ferocity of his attack. I loved it. Jesus Christ Pose remains a favorite and it's not annoyance I feel when Cornell hits those blistering high notes, it's a sense of joy as reality shreds around me.
I loved Badmotorfinger from the jump, managed to scoop it up in the original, limited release as a double disc with SOMMS, the re-release of which I was thrilled to pick up on vinyl during last November's Record Store Day. Their cover of Sabbath's Into the Void was arguably what also kickstarted my love of Sabbath, and as Jake and I fell into both bands we had a theory between us that SG was somehow the reincarnation of Sabbath in its perfect, original era. Sure other bands imitated the progenitors of metal, but SG didn't. They were of like-minds, the influence not so much blatant as inferred. And there were moments when Kim Thayil seemed to bleed Sabbath Volume 4 and Master of Reality through the pores on his fingertips...
I was a bit hesitant on Super Unknown at first. I still don't really care too much for Spoon Man, and Black Hole Sun took me years for me to come around to recognizing it for the odd, unsettling single that it is. But for years after its release I avoided the album; at the time I was young and probably just upset that all the jocks were suddenly into the same obscure band that I was. Ah youth and it's folly. Jake turned me around though, and he did so by drilling the rest of the album into my head, specifically Mailman, Limo Wreck, Fourth of July, Fresh Tendrils and Like Suicide. From there I really fell into the songs and production on Super Unknown hard; it was the first record I wanted to grab off my shelf this morning when I heard the news and goddamn the one of two people who stole it from me - it was Jake's copy that he gave to me shortly before he died on September 22nd, 1998. I've been hesitant to rebuy it since; Tommy wrote an excellent piece on the record last year for a Joup Friday Album and that almost sent it to my amazon cart but I hesitated, as if there was any chance in hell I'd be able to drive out to Joshua Tree and find my copy in a thrift store, where it most likely ended up after all the dust settled. Ravenous for it this morning I arrived at work and begrudgingly bought it from the iTunes store, 15 tracks of ones and zeros instead of a beautiful tactile fossil I'd touched and played and, honestly, snorted coke off of once or twice. Memories...
When Down on the Upside came out Jake and I had already been anticipating it for some time. He bought it first, on cassette, and I remember we smoked up and put it on and had a weird, 'umm, huh.' reaction to it. This nonplussed, sinking feeling lasted for a week or two, mostly because that first listen freaked us out so much we avoided the record. Then Jake took it on a fishing trip with his estranged father and returned a weekend later exclaiming its brilliance. He'd spent each night of the trip digesting the album through his headphones. This was the first time I figured out that sometimes you had to work for something great; sometimes passive listening lead to breakthroughs and sometimes it's one song that is the key to opening the rest of an album, like a flower. Again we smoked and sat down and he started the album at the beginning of the second side, with Apple Bite transitioning directly into the cyberpunk insanity of Never the Machine Forever. And from there I got it. I consumed the second side of Down on the Upside repeatedly and that eventually opened the first, more polished and 'accessible' side. For years it was my favorite SG album, might still be. Jake had a thing about lyrics; he would often latch onto the most bizarre and literary, or read interpretations into phrases that I would never have seen. Down's penultimate track, An Unkind has one I still think about on a regular basis.
"We lack the Moses, to look a Saint in the eyes."
And then Soundgarden broke up. I tried to like Chris Cornell's post-SG work but I just could not get into most of it. I loved "Seasons", his solo track on the Singles Soundtrack, but each of his subsequent three solo albums left me cold, as did his work in audioslave. That one's definitely not his fault; I'm not a RATM fan and the idea that those three meatheads basically just did exactly what they did with Dela Rocha at the helm behind a voice as amazing as Chris Cornell's... fucking travesty mate. The track used in Michael Mann's brilliant film Collateral is an exception, but otherwise I can't turn to any of this stuff to celebrate Cornell's life now because in my opinion it is indicative of the terribly sad fact that as an artist Cornell always seemed to shoot himself in the foot. A tragedy when he was as talented as he was and when he had already had such a great vehicle for that talent in his life. Soundgarden's break-up felt like they were frustrated and upset with their fans, with the industry and with themselves. They didn't see the forest for the trees. I once read Cornell refer to them as "Just a metal band" in a way that suggested it was Soundgarden holding him back. I've never understood that - from a fan's perspective they had continually evolved over the course of their career. That was what that whole A side of Down on the Upside was about, an evolution from a Sabbath to a Zeppelin, while the B side was darker and stranger than almost anything they'd done before (except maybe No Wrong No Right or 665). They could have done and been anything, could have made whatever music they wanted as they continued to evolve. But they felt expectations held them back. Maybe they were right; were their album sales tanking? Was A & M unhappy and manipulating them? As a band they were big enough that it didn't matter, they could have been the first Zeppelin of the new age of post-industry. Instead they all kind of disappeared and Cornell went on to search for himself publicly - NEVER a good thing. By the time that Timbaland produced monstrosity hit the shelves I was done. My ex-wife loved that record, but within an instant of hearing it my only reaction was, "Well, if this fails we'll have a Soundgarden reunion in short order."
And we did. And they gave us King Animal, which is okay, but in my opinion not worthy of their legacy. Who knows, maybe I just haven't given it the time to 'blossom' like I did with Down, but I don't think so. And their exorbitant pricing of live shows since reuniting has driven a 'Fuck You' wedge between the band and I so that I don't really want to give it a chance and I never got to see them live and honestly, do not regret NOT remedying that with the reunion at all.
All that said, here's footage of their last song, the last song of Cornell's life, last night at the Fox Theater in Detroit, MI. When I heard it was Zeppelin's In My Time of Dying I got chills.
Finally, whatever the reason for his death, this was the song that I wanted to hear immediately upon learning of Chris Cornell's death. May he rest in peace and know that he changed many, many peoples lives with his music. He certainly changed mine and Jake's.
............
* The others were Ozzy-era Sabbath, Type O Negative and Cypress Hill.
Type O Negative. One of my favorite bands of all time. Lead singer/bassist Peter Steele's death is one of only two rock n roll deaths from my era that actually affected me - the other being Layne Stayley's. I don't listen to Type O all the time - favorite or not their music affects me so strongly that I have to be in a very particular state of mind to fully revel in it. And that state of mind really only comes around two or three times a year - Spring and Autumn definitely and maybe once at some other point. And when it hits me, I go into that headspace and their music super hard.
I've been in that headspace recently, and ironically my friend Tommy has too because he posted about it in his awesome Joup column Endless Loop.
I've posted this track before - I have TONS of baggage associated with it. I'm posting it again but wanted to do a different version, namely something live that does it justice, like this version from the band's Symphony for the Devil video does.
As I come to the end of Mark Yarm's wonderful book Everybody Loves Our Town I find myself drawn once again back to my favorite band from that era, Alice in Chains. In that return I realized a major oversight in my record collection. I do not own the AIC unplugged.
Now, I know why I don't own it - its association with empty-v. However, Everybody Loves Our Town has made me re-think this.
The book is word of mouth - in other words it is comprised entirely of interview snippets conducted and arranged by Mr. Yarm and in the last chapters as those firsthand accounts address the death of Layne Staley there's a quote by AIC bassist Mike Inez that reads, "We discovered at that show that songs like "Sludge Factory" were even heavier acoustic. Layne that night was so haunting. His voice, especially his performance on "Down in a Hole," it still brings a tear to my eye. There was a couple times I had to pull my eyes off of Layne and remind myself, Hey, I'm at work. Instead of being a fan here, I better concentrate on my bass chords. He was just so mesmerizing."
I have a powerful relationship with Alice's music, and Staley's death was the first of two rock star deaths that have actually affected me (the other being Peter Steele's from Type O Negative). Staley reminded me of my best friend Jake, who died a looong time ago. Anyway, that quote from Mr. Inez made me really want to see/hear the performance in question so I went youtube.
Wow.
Nutshell, the second track off of 1993's Jar of Flies ep just kills me every time. But it's even more powerful here. All the tracks are fantastic, but that one and Sludge Factory - which since the first time I heard it has been one of my favorite Alice tracks - are just killer.
When he awoke there was a momentary sensation, as if he'd come to just as someone had thrown a glass of water on his face. Sudden, sharp, and cold he sat up quickly as the final moments of the dream discorporated throughout his mind, breaking into a million salient pieces and running off back into the nooks and crevices that, if he could follow them, would lead directly into his subconscious.
"Ah, what?" Was all Jake could manage as the sensation of rain, wave or folly broke and rolled back, leaving him sitting upright in his bed, early morning strains of the day to come playing in through the snaps and tears in the blinds, dream fog disintegrating and leaving nothing but the consensual.
"The mundane." he mouthed as he dropped back against his pillow and attempted to fight for those nooks, to fish out any slow moving tendrils of dream that, if caught and pulled on, might serve as a thread to begin remembering the...
"House?"
Yes! He'd gotten one. Here it was now... he struggled to move it just right so as not to damage the thread of gossamer memory. Gently pulling on the idea of the house next there came to Jake the image of a yard, an expanse of Kentucky bluegrass peppered with trees, oak and birch and others too small to recognize by name for one so uninvolved in the art of the garden. But it was enough. Jake knew where the dream had taken place.
Home.
It's been a while since he'd been there, but now... logical day-to-day thought fought for a space of prominence among the dangling memory. Best to pursue the slipperier one of the bunch before it was gone.
Jake rolled forlornly from the bed and took a place on the floor. Tucking his legs beneath him in a standard yogic position he began to slow and focus his breathing. There wouldn't be any of that om shit, but–
"On second thought," he stood quickly, performed a few basic stretching disciplines and then lowered himself again, this time slowly and with the aid of the window sill, into what he had been introduced to by Aleister Crowley (his books, not the person) as the 'Thunderbolt" position. This wasn't the standard Thunderbolt, this was Crowley's own special concoction, or some archaic torture device the old mage had come across somewhere in his own travels. It was nearly impossible to get a body, even a relatively limber body such as Jake's, into at first. Jake had done it now hundreds of times and always his body still fought it at first. But once it settled in and his ID relaxed, there was no faster route to the tune-out.
And minutes drift by and we go...
...through a narrow trail in the woods. Old woods, familiar woods. Jake can sense himself but only in that half-removed dream fashion. His hand fought off branches as he moved through the vegetation and soon he was afforded a bit of sky through the tops of the trees. He could see massive, billowing clouds of dark gray and the darkest brown, almost black. He continued, the slightly ominous sight casting a bit of a foreboding over his advance but not slowing him, never slowing him as he walked. Shortly he arrived at a small clearing in the wood. Before him the ground rose up, covered in ancient, dry and crispy leaves and a low stone wall randomly emerged from the forest floor. Seeing this he realized that he knew the place. It was a dream amalgam of places near where he'd grown up. The wall was some strange, left-over artifact from a house long ago abandoned, it's structure demolished by some unknown factor, it's property consumed by the hungry forests all around it. Further on up the path he suspected that he would find the subtle remains of a split rail fence, also long-ago displaced by nature. He also knew that somewhere before him there would be a door buried by a lite brushing of dirt. He'd get to that in a moment. A ripple-like sensation broke through the fabric of the surroundings for a moment. Jake blinked and suddenly it was as if a whole entire other world had sliced through the one before him, leaving an angular cross-section before him. To the right of it and the left was the amalgamated forest, but when he focused straight ahead he could suddenly see himself sitting in an elaborate cross-legged position in some far off place... The ripple returned and the cross section disappeared. A thought flitted through his mind like a lightning bug on a July evening: there are other worlds then these. These? He hardly had time to let this contemplation ring true when he found himself at the door in the Earth, brushing off it what little dirt remained. He had the distinct impression that someone had just been here moments ago. Behind him another ripple shot through the world and this time the momentary cross-section showed something else. Or rather, someone else. Two eyes, great big and greenish in hue, watching him from... elsewhen. Then it was gone and he was entering the moist staircase that led down beneath the soft, leave-strewn Earth.
And he was awake again. Jake's legs uncoiled almost unconsciously from beneath him and he blinked his eyes open just in time to catch a retreating glimpse of something in the mirror before him.
