Sunday 22 April 2012

MEANWHILE, AT A TOP SECRET U.S MILITARY INSTALLATION SOMEWHERE IN THE NORTHERN HEMISPHERE THAT MAY OR MAY NOT BE ADJACENT TO THE U.S.A - MEXICO BORDER . . . . A YOUNG MAN, OR WOMAN, IS GOING ABOUT HIS, OR HERS, CLASSIFIED MISSION . . . . HE'S ON A WAVELENGTH FAR FROM HOME . . . . "MEXICAN RADIO" WALL OF VOODOO . . . . I WISH I WAS IN TIJUANA, EATING BARBECUED IGUANA . . . .

A seminal outifit in hybridising post punk and new wave, [fuck, that's a term I hate !!] definitely out of left field and making music from a decidedly different kithcen, words like 'quirky' and 'eclectic' come to mind once more . . . . in an era when dirging dinosaurs like Journey, REO Sleepwagon and Blubberboy were still ambling about the musical landscape, Stan and the boys were a breath of fresh Zyklon B to the vast herds of mullet headed reptilians . . . . their strange and evocative melodies bringing the 'Middle American' psychosis of the time to a collective meltdown . . . . or something along those lines . . . .

This is for the Zen Bastard and Sir Ass of Fatness . . . . can't understand, just what does he say ???

3 comments:

  1. Thanks brother! Great choice and great write up to go with it.

    May all your walls be voodoo, may they never meet at right angles, and may you occasionally walk right through them.

    Cheers Dog!

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  2. No worries brother . . . or sister . . . right angles are so . . . wrong ???

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  3. Hahaha! May the power of your voodoo bend reality to reflect the demented brilliance of white-line psychosis.

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