March 17, 2007

Closer And Closer To Truth, Farther And Farther Away Each Day

The Flaming Lips - Hear It Is + The Flaming Lips (1987)

Hearing: The monkey spent hours and then days and then weeks, months, years, decades and centuries (or so it seemed) arranging and re-arranging the alloy objects, never satisfied with their 'Sound' - as he came to call it. Because he knew that these sharp, pointy things which constantly cut his hands and left his fingers bloodied and scarred, if put together properly, would make: Just. The. Right. Sound.

Stan Lee Should Have Had An Intervention Years Ago

Sebadoh - The Freed Weed (1990)

Myron, Son of Thor, hated his given name. Especially when people inevitably asked, "Why can't you be more like your father?"

What Takes A Telescope To See Sometimes

B.A.L.L. - Bird/Period (1988)

Possessing neither a sense of right, left or wrong, Timmy usually just spun dizzily in place for hours on end while assuming he was making his way from bedroom to bathroom, from work to home, abattoir to graveyard. His trail, a whirling galactic impression of blood smeared across a dozen states, was still somehow missed by the servants of a dozen law enforcement agencies.

A Really Big Hole In Howard's Pocket

The Bevis Frond - Miasma - (1988)

"Assuming that I was sane and awake, my experience on that night was such as has befallen no man before. It was, moreover, a frightful confirmation of all I had sought to dismiss as myth and dream. Mercifull there is no proof, for in my fright I lost the awesome object which would - if real and brought out of that noxious abyss - have formed irrefutable evidence."

- H. P. Lovecraft, The Shadow Out of Time (1935)

Gray Strangers With Candy

Steve Tibbetts - Yr (1988)

Lithe fingers of ribbed plastic and nylon insinuated themselves into the crevices of Jeremy's cortex, molecule-thin invaders writhing through the puddle of his gray matter, tickling and pinching, twisting and tugging at dendrites and axons, neurons and nodes of ranvier. Jeremy smiled and peed his pants and spoke in tongues and remembered his mother in a yellow dress dancing with his father in his favorite dark suit but he couldn't remember his own name or why he had ever put the strange alien-colored toy up to his forehead in the first place.

March 12, 2007

Passing The Collection Plate For Pardoners

The Church - The Blurred Crusade (1982)

For centuries the Church had upheld the One True Faith (or OTF for short) against the ravages of science, reason, time, television and smarty-pants comedians. And had done so with a quiet dignity. But, much to his chagrin and eventual physical and financial losses, poor Morton Greensmith was to find out that even the Church has its limits. One just doesn't say THAT in Church.

A Robot Lincoln Against Your Robot Marx Anyday!

Plasticland - Salon (1987)

Giant, mountain-tall robots strode across the empty planetoid's scarred and melted surface. Lasers shot from eyes as deep as oceans and nuclear-tipped missiles flew over and over again from abdomen-mounted racks, melting rock and steel. Overhead, in diamond satellites, scaly teenage hobbyists watched their toys at play, in love with the destruction and the power. Meanwhile, tiny mammals burrowed into cracks and evolved at a tremendous speed in the waves of cosmic radiation that now bathed the little world. Those lizards had better watch out.

Only What A Naked Man Can Accomplish Solo

The Silos - Cuba (1987)

Returning: The monkey - who felt like he'd been abandoned for an uncalled for length of time, though by who or whom or what he couldn't say, not really knowing anyone else, monkey or otherwise - suddenly realized he was walking and had been walking for a very long time through an alkali desert of startling beauty. Acidic butterflies of poisonous green and deadly black flew in great clouds between the petrified flowers of this new landscape. Angular shapes of a metallic bronze or silver hue were embedded in the salty crust of earth beneath his feet. They seemed to make patterns, to connect one with the other. He picked up a handful, finding them very flat, and began to lay them out one after the other: C G A D B E F. This is what they looked like and sounded like in the monkey's head. But what were they?

On The Other Hand, Perhaps This Is What You Seek

Thin White Rope - Moonhead (1987)

It crawled from the desert, a shining beastmark, from some other worlds, one raging arc of the dream that rose up higher than the foothils and the low mountains and spread wings that encompassed a universe of belief and doubt, faith and fear. It had a name but that name could not be told, only guessed. Can you???

This Is Not A Clue * This Is Not A Clue

The Mekons - The Mekons Rock 'n' Roll (1989)

Fifty-five stormtroopers, in paisley brownshirts, dancing the Watusi, cradling plushtoy origami sten guns, circled the statehouse bar-b-que dinner, traipsing off afterwards into the soft night over the edge of the hard wooden dock and down without murmur into the bottomless bay. Partygoers were nonplussed but pretended to ogle the President's new piercing, murmuring about how it caught the light of the bonfires so charmingly. So, so charming.

That Ain't Reality! That's My Hot Dog Spoon

Snakefinger - A Collection of Songs, 1978-1980 (1988)

Kindly contributed by Mr. Zippy for your pleasure-center stimulation!