The Axeman's Story gets the book it deserves
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- By The Barman
- Hits: 3805
Execution Days: The Life and Times of Spencer P. Jones
By Patrick Emery (Love Police)
Perhaps the most surprising thing about Melbourne writer Patrick Emery’s exhaustively researched and engrossing biography of the late Spencer P. Jones is that it found a publisher.
Thanks to the internet, book publishing is a low-margin crap shoot. But Aussie publishing houses were already renowned for their lack of imagination and reluctance to take risks on books about anyone who’s not mainstream, middle-of-the-road or, ahem, National Living Treasures. Even those imprints that are outgrowths of universities, our bastions of free thought.
If you haven’t received a formal rejection letter from a friendly Aussie publisher after shopping a musician’s autobiography, you haven’t lived. The stupidity of not keeping and framing a letter that read, in part, “there is no market for this because Radio Birdman fans can’t read” is regrettable in hindsight – it should have gone straight to the pool room - but, fuck you, anyway, self-important publisher twat. You deserve to be shot by a ball of your own shit.
Patrick Emery suffered his share of similar fools while trying to place “Execution Days”.
Vale Detroit Cobra Rachel Nagy, "Stoogeling" Natalie Schlolssman and guitarist Gregory Hilleard
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- By The Barman
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Rachel Nagy of the Detroit Cobras.
The year 2022 is off to a very bad start. Over the weekend, the Detroit Cobras announced co-founder and vocalist Rachel Nagy had died.
Nagy co-founded the Detroit rock-soul band in 1994 with guitarist Mary Ramirez, and Greg Cartright (Reigning Sound, The Oblivians) was a musical collaborator. The band released four full-length albums, toured Australia in the 2000s and was scheduled to play US dates in March. No cause of death was revealed.
The weekend also claimed Nadalyn (Natalie) Schlossman, former manager of the Stooges fan club in the 1970s and a dedicated documenter and champion of the band since.
Known as “The Stoogeling”, Natalie lived in Philadelphia and ran the Stoogeaholics Facebook group where former Iggy and the Stooges guitarist James Williamson has paid tribute:
Ex-Bad Seed a consummate tale teller
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- By Robert Brokenmouth
- Hits: 3344
Up Above the City, Down Beneath the Stars
By Barry Adamson (Omnibus Press)
This autobiography is so sumptuous and clean that I don't want it to end, so I'm taking it in glorious nibbles. I haven't finished it yet, but sod that. You need to know how damned good it is, so I'm filing the review now. Just order it, buy it, demand it from your music emporium.
Barry Adamson is perhaps best known to the Australian rock 'n' roll world as a founder member of Magazine, covering for Tracy Pew while the latter was in jail, and the first four Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds LPs (and re-joining in 2013). He is also an accomplished producer of film scores.
His own band came to Australia in September 2012 on the back of his LP “I Will Set You Free”. I have very fond memories of that magnificent night in Adelaide, not least because I only recall three other friends there: one of whom we all miss terribly.
Even's album for the ages
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- By John Ventoura
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Reverse Light Years – Even (El Reno)
This double album features Even at their creative best – a beautifully crafted 17-track, 81 minutes with something for all tastes. It provides a definitive, seminal record for long-time fans and will certainly open the door to new legions.
Ash Naylor is arguably the hardest working “stop and go man” in Oz music. He, (Wally) Roderick Kempton II (bass) and Matt Cotter (drums) make a formidable three-piece. And a durable one.
Time's march doesn't dull the edge
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- By The Barman
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“American Hardcore” b/w “The Deal” (Swashbuckling Hobo)
That these reformed second-wave, southside Brisbane punks actually manage to sound dangerous on new recordings made four decades later comes down to the fact they were more of a Flipper-meets-latter-day-Black-Flag-styled grind than a cheap Pistols take-off, before - in the words of their label - “drugs, death and depression took over”, and they dissolved.
They reformed, more or less intact, a few years ago to play live and promote some re-issues, and these songs are the fruit of a studio session.
Brace of books that celebrate Aussie blues - and rock and roll
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- By The Barman
- Hits: 3084
Blues Portrait Volume 2 by Pauline Bailey
Blues Portrait Volume 3 by Pauline Bailey
If you want to pick an argument, get into a discussion with a professional musician about what constitutes blues music.
There are those who regard themselves as “blues players” and those who do not, and never the twain shall meet.
There’s a mindset among some self-described blues players that they’re the “real deal” and everyone else is not. It must really rankle for them to have seen the annual Bluesfest evolve into a (mostly bland) celebration of the mainstream.
Rapping with the Reverend: Gunhouse Hill's Paul S. Cunningham in conversation
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- By JD Stayfree
- Hits: 3978
I've known this soulful, creative, talented brother Reverend Paul S Cunningham of Boston’s Gunhouse Hill for a long time now, through the miracle of modern telecommunications on the surveillance panopticon. In recent days I've been locked outta social media for too much facts-based push-back against billionaire techlords’ preferred narratives. Reverend Paul is one of the only people I miss being able to look in on.
Let me tell ya ‘bout him.
Double vaxxed ain't nothing until you're double bugged
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- By The Barman
- Hits: 2970
Double Meaning – The Stinkbugs (Swashbuckling Hobo)
Drop the needle in the groove. Ready? The pedigree tells you a lot: Hekawis and Shutdown66 among prior convictions. So does the opening track, “Atom Bomb”: Extreme fuzz guitar and basic, almost primal production. But don’t lay a bet, just yet...
Just as you have The Stinkbugs pegged and, suddenly, the sound’s stripped right back for two songs, “Don’t Want Me Around” and “Fly”. It’s like someone sucked out all the mid-range with a straw.
Dirt on the tracks
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- By The Barman
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High Tides, More Crimes – MD Horne (Outtspace/FOLC/La Villa Nova)
Only a shit stirrer would start a review of an album with the rhetorical question: “How do you know you’re getting old? You start listening to bush bands”. Guilty as charged – on the shit stirrer charge, that is. Lock me up.
Yes, the second solo album from Sydney’s MD Horne contains mandolin, didgeridoo, his own bass, a sprinkling of bush balladry, and even a sea shanty of sorts but, thankfully, no lagerphone. It’s also damned good.
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