#and immediately got hit with like 4 new physical problems i was repressing

[queer-flesh-simulacrum]

imposter syndrome is very real

especially when it isn’t 😌

[goodbysunball]

Quarantine rock, pt. III

Another long overdue update from the indoors. Hope you and yours are hanging in there - if nothing else, there’s no shortage of great music to keep you company. Here’s my take on some recent favorites.

C. Lavender, Myth of Equilibrium (Editions Mego)

Admittedly had not heard of C. Lavender until her collaborative cassette with Aaron Dilloway dropped earlier this year, but it’s safe to say that the tape was strong enough to blindly buy her new LP on Editions Mego. Myth of Equilibrium has been one of the best surprises from this year, drone at its core but opening up to something much more soothing over repeated listens, despite the jagged edges and tendency to embrace caustic noise. It came as no surprise to find out that C. Lavender embraces sound as a healing medium, as Myth of Equilibrium takes a deep, buzzing bass tone and twists and stretches it until individual packets of sound are weightless and ethereal. “Remedy Potion Extraction” is the most obvious example of this dark-to-light transformation C. Lavender excels at, but mostly the tracks present a satisfying puree of sound over shorter durations (”Engulf the Mystery,” “Dimly Lit Exit”). The brevity is a strength, and in that way C. Lavender reminds me of French duo Femme or even some of Tim Hecker’s work, but without the startling track-to-track transitions of the former or the diaphanous shroud of the latter. The bass keeps Myth of Equilibrium tangible and firmly grounded, and the rest of the sounds conjured by C. Lavender weave a very heady, very rich tapestry. The best respite from 2020 money can buy; soak it in. The LP is sold out from Editions Mego but those in the US can order it direct from C. Lavender for a very fair price.

Kobra, Confusione (Iron Lung)

Alright, I’m admittedly not a huge fan of the cover art for this record, but it’s an easy enough barrier to jump over when the music rips this hard. Kobra is from Italy, and they traffic in a mid-paced, pounding strain of punk that is right up my alley. Sounds like Una Bèstia Incontrolable meets Mecht Mensch to these ears: like the title track, which starts out like “Zombie” and then flips into a UBI-level groove, sax bleating and moaning on top of it all. This is punk through and through, the blown-out drums always there to remind you that this is presented by Iron Lung Records, but there’s a definite early post-punk/art-rock vibe present, too - check the groggy ���Fogna” that opens up side B, which kinda sounds like Kobra doing their best impression of the Circle Jerks in Repo Man. The guitars don’t riff as much as they slash and chop, fragmented stabs landing among the onslaught of drums. The vocalist uses a menacing speak-scream (most effectively on ”Sogni Illusioni” and closer “C.P.D.M.”), and if I could speak or read Italian, I’m sure the lyrics would be intelligible amongst the din. Confusione is loaded with hits, but when the band clicks and all the parts come together, Kobra whips up a maelstrom; hard to deny the power of “Dentro Agli Schermi” (my favorite track) or “C.P.D.M.,” and though both of those tracks feature the saxophone, I’m glad the band wields that weapon sparingly for maximum effect. One of the most memorable and exciting punk releases of 2020, for sure, a formidable, brawny brew that’ll flex your pencil neck and have you involuntarily pogoing in no time. Highest recommendation! Confusione is sold out direct from Iron Lung, but Sorry State, Feel It, Grave Mistake, etc. all have it in stock.

Oily Boys, Cro Memory Grin (Cool Death)

The best musical news this year, hands-down: NEW OILY BOYS. Not only was an Oily Boys LP drop completely unexpected, I am completely steamrolled by this record every single time I drop the needle, from the opening “UGH!” on “Given” to the nearly nine minutes of caustic self-loathing on “GTrance.” There’s a definite metallic edge to the way Oily Boys approach punk, from the riffing to Drew Bennett’s brutally intense vocal performance, but while most punkers approach metal as a gimmick and end up sounding pretty tame, Oily Boys just sound absolutely mad - the 1-2 of “C.B.D.” into “My Sex Life,” especially the wild guitar theatrics on the latter, carry an intense, teeth-clenching physicality. If that was all Oily Boys did on this LP, it’d be a success, but the band throws curveballs and mid-tempo fits across Cro Memory Grin’s 13 tracks. “Heat Harmony” was the most jarring inclusion at first, relatively tuneful dark punk that could’ve been lifted from drummer Yuta Matsumura’s other band Orion. It definitely works, and the slightly softened approach of the band thankfully has no effect on Drew Bennett’s vocals. “Lizard Scheme” is another detour, swelling noise and Bennett’s barking (”Stupid is as stupid does, jazz boy!” is a choice lyric), reminiscent of Gutter Gods’ dizzying “Allan.” Probably the two most pummeling tracks here slow the tempos significantly and close out each side: “Stick Him,” my favorite track, and “GTrance,” the exhaustive closer. “Stick Him” is absolutely ferocious, the band emphasizing the quiet-loud dynamic with saxophone, the loud parts lurching into place like heavy machinery turning on, Bennett screaming the title with a violent ferocity. Where “Stick Him” is feral, the screed unleashed on “GTrance” by Bennett feels therapeutic, expelling every bit of toxic bile into the song without a break, and even if there is no resolution, the end result is a momentary peace, the same kind afforded by pushing to the full extent of one’s mental or physical abilities. That kinda seems like the point of Oily Boys, from the self-effacing name to the poisonous lyrical content to the absolutely ferocious performance: know your enemies, push back against the lowering boot of the world, fuck the rest. 2020′s best punk record, no contest, and maybe even the best record/soundtrack to the perfect storm of this year. Sick artwork/inserts on this LP, a nice job as usual from Cool Death. Cro Memory Grin is still available direct from them, and Goner still has it domestically.

Subdued, Over the Hills and Far Away (Roachleg)

With last year’s Bad Breeding LP still fresh and prescient as ever, and the political climate seemingly spiraling into reality TV while people mercilessly struggle and suffer all over, it seemed like scoping this new LP from the UK’s Subdued was more than appropriate. It’s reductive and maybe a little offensive to mention UK compatriots Bad Breeding in the first line of this review, but the similarities are hard to ignore: both bands create fiery politically-charged punk that flirts with metal and noise, delivered in screamed vocals with a heavy British accent. Subdued don’t fly off the rails as much as Bad Breeding; there’s more of a Crass/Rudimentary Peni vibe, with the emphasis on vocal delivery and riffs rather than conjuring a visceral tornado of noise. Sometimes the riffs can be a little clunky (particularly the end of “The Joke,” even though “Is hope the joke?” is a pretty powerful lyric), and for how much room the vocals are given, the lyrics can tread into oft-used clichés. Doesn’t make the message any less true, and I think the longer I spend with Over the Hills and Far Away, the more I come under its spell. “Problem of Evil” is probably the best song here, a near-perfect blend of deathrock, stomping riffs and barked vocals, and when it turns into the sprint of “No More,” Subdued are an undeniable force. Not sure if it just takes me until those two songs to warm up to Over the Hills, but the B-side of the LP seems to be more memorable - like the world-beating metallic riffs of the title track, or the frenetic guitar solo that finishes off “Call to Suffer.” There’s more than enough at play on Over the Hills to keep me coming back, and overall it’s a strong debut LP, and a great reason to check in with what Roachleg Records is bringing to the US punk scene. Cop the LP direct from Roachleg, and if you’re lucky you might have a chance at one of the limited-to-100 hand-screened covers. La Vida Es Un Mus put out the LP for the rest of the world, another solid co-sign for Subdued.

Aviador Dro, Nuclear, Sí 7″ (La Vida Es Un Mus) // Algara, Enamorados Del Control Total 7″ (La Vida Es Un Mus)

I don’t think these two 7″s have much in common other than the fact that they’re both put out by La Vida Es Un Mus, they’re both sung in Spanish and they’ve both been ruling my turntable this year. The Aviador Dro record is a reissue, one that came out last year, and it’s a gem: sci-fi keyboard punk from the '80s, the titular track one of the best songs I’ve ever heard, a slinking, funky beat driving the song into your brain forevermore. The B-side feels more edgy than the A-side but it’s all undeniably great; Paco did us all a favor by repressing this record, and continuing to keep it in print. Fast forward to 2020 for Algara’s 7″, their debut, which came out way back in pre-pandemic January. The cover art caught my eye, and the spindly, groovy drum-machine post-punk within is immediately addictive. The label says Crisis and Joy Division are in Algara’s musical DNA, and that sounds about right; the sound is spare, you can kinda dance to it, the bass lines carry the weight and the wiry guitars smear into each other (”Miedo a Perder”) or stitch single golden threads into the tapestry (”Dopamina y Producción”). Algara’s a 4-piece now, and they’ve got an LP coming soon on LVEUM, so 2021′s lookin’ bright. Both 7″s are mandatory, widely available from distros and direct from La Vida Es Un Mus. Scope the feature that Lulu’s wrote on Algara while you’re at it.

Saskia, Eeuwig Op Reis 7″ (Stroom)

The record collector sweat starts when you read about a 7″ reissued from a “highly intimate cassette” limited to ten or so copies in 1983, circulated only amongst friends and family. My eyes typically roll at such uncovered “gems” or whatever, but these two songs definitely deserve a wider audience. “My Lips Get Hot” splits the difference between the foggy late night atmosphere conjured by Chromatics and a breezy Balearic vibe, topped by sensual, high-pitched vocals that really drive the whole woozy, lovesick message home. The flip has the instrumental “You Left Your Soul Behind,” wherein said Balearic vibe is now at the forefront. It’s a strong track on its own, but kinda just serves as the comedown from “My Lips Get Hot” in this presentation. Stroom continues to unearth overlooked records with unnerving ease, and this Saskia 7″ might be the one that makes the label a more common name. One copy of this record is left at Stroom’s Bandcamp as of this writing - move quick.

Glen Schenau, “Jhumble” b/w “Jearnest” (self-released)

Glen Schenau is at the forefront of Brisbane’s experimental musical scene; he’s done time in Kitchen’s Floor, Bent and has even self-released a few things under his own name. The solo stuff I’ve checked by him was restless, frantic guitar and bass lines seemingly swimming against the current of his Bryan Ferry crooning. While there’s no denying that it was singular, it never really coalesced for me in the same way that this new 7″ does. That same restlessness is still at play here, obvious from the beginning strumming of “Jhumble,” and Schenau seems to still relish the vocal stylings of Ferry, though his vocals also remind me of some of the alterna-rock radio I was subjected to while working in a warehouse during summers between school. Normally that sort of vocal homage would send me running to the hills, but it really works here: the busy guitar line and the drums lock into an undeniable groove on “Jhumble,” and whatever Glen is singing, the melody is stuck in my head for days. “Jearnest” is my pick, the more difficult foil to “Jhumble”’s pop leanings. The sprightly guitar at the beginning is submerged into this rubbery goo, which eventually takes over the song while a whistle floats in to carry a melody over the tarry pit. Can’t say I’ve ever heard anything like it, but it doesn’t just float along on that claim; this is a highly potent brew served up on both sides of this single. Glen self-released this record and it’s limited to 150 copies; mine came with a hand-written note and drawing, which was a nice touch. High marks all around. I’ve got to echo Matt K.’s sentiments when he reviewed this record: “Seems like every Australian band gets their own album without much delay, so I have to ask: where the hell is Glen Schenau’s?!”

[riverforasong]

Climbing Through the Wall

TW: Self Harm, Weight issues, and family instability, oh and nudity, I guess. It’s a non-fiction thing so if that’s not your bag, thanks for coming anyway!

It’s never really been a secret, per se, but I’ve only just now started to freely admit to people that I’m a nudist. Be it out of fear of how people would react, or embarrassment stemming from a, now that I think of it, weirdly conservative upbringing, I never talked about it. I would drop hints here and there, but never much explicit, even with super close friends it remained a non-topic, despite the fact that it was, and is, a very big part, and honestly, fundamental part of my life. Hell, I’m literally naked right now (Probably, depending on when you’re reading this and what time of day it is, I could be at the store or at work or something, but it’s like a solid 90 percent chance). When the topic does come up, especially with people just learning about it for the first time, I get a lot of questions about it, which is absolutely to be expected, and I don’t mind it one bit, mostly because I love talking about this kinda stuff. One of the questions that always trips me up a little bit though, is “Why?” Why choose to go naked all the time? Which seems like an easy answer, being naked is awesome, it’s more comfortable, it releases stress, and makes it easier to sleep, and it honestly baffles me why anyone would choose to wear clothes if they didn’t absolutely have to. For me at least, it’s the only time I’m ever really comfortable, clothes and I just never really gelled. But it wasn’t until recently, and I’m talking within the last 3 months recently that I realized how important it was to me, and the recovery of my self image. My self esteem has always been low, and a lot of that stems from how I physically look, but it goes even deeper than that. From here on out this story gets kind of intense,TW: Self Harm, Weight issues, and family instability, oh, and nudity I guess, but you should have figured that out by now,  so if you’re not into that, maybe skip to the last paragraph? Or you could bail out here, the whole gist of it is being naked makes you feel better about yourself, you and your friends should give it a try sometimes. Got it? Good, and here we go.

I’ve always been the fat kid, right from the get go, in school that’s how I was pegged. Like a lot of fat kids, we learned to be the funny one in the group, because humour is a damn fine way to mask any and all insecurities you’re hiding within yourself. I’d always told myself that it doesn’t bother me, people are gonna say what they say and you can eiher take it personally, or let it roll off your back and make a joke about it, and that’s what I always did. Or at the very least, tried to do. It worked, or so I thought, but I’d be lying to you right now if I said it never got to me. Late night when no one was listening, it would replay over and over in my head, about how that’s the only thing people ever see in me. That’s always going to be their first impression. I will never be loved if I look like this. Now this is a batshit crazy way of thinking in retrospect, but that’s how m'brain works when it’s back on it’s bullshit. Later in life, what I now know to be an anxiety issue and mental illness, went unchecked for too long. In my family, I always had to be the level headed one, parenting the parents so to speak. My brother had sever Social Anxiety Disorder and would lash out in increasingly terrible ways that he can talk about in his own damn story, but my parents were not… I dunno, mature enough? No that seems silly, equipped to? Equipped to take care of this in the way it needed to be. Yelling begat more yelling, violence begat more violence, you see how things roll. I would always have to step in and make sure things don’t escalate any further than they already had. Taking pieces of myself and shoving them in the holes of the levee to make sure the whole place doesn’t flood. It would work, things would calm down and merrily we’d roll along until the next disaster hit. This worked for them. It didn’t however, work for me. Being the person who took care of these issues took a toll on me that I didn’t expect. See, I was just as sad and angry as everyone else, but I couldn’t express it in any way, because I needed to fix the issues before they became worse, but unlike everyone else, I had no one to check on me. No one to make sure that I was doing okay enough to function, which as it turned out, I was not. The anger and the sadness and the overall  negative emotion swelled inside of me and remained bottled up until it could no longer stay. I began to cut myself to release it. I couldn’t find someone to help, and I couldn’t take it out on anyone else, so I took it out on the person who mattered least in the house, myself.

Still with me? If so, here’s a puppy.

Cutting may have relieved the emotional pain and stress I was feeling, but it also left something in it’s wake. Big, obvious, ugly, red scars. Crisscrossing my arms and legs. New ones would pop up every couple of days or so. A couple people would ask about it, I’d tell them it was my cat, which if you knew my cat made sense, ‘cause that little thing’s kind of a bastard, and the situation would be left alone. This went on for a while, longer than I’d like to admit, but the important thing was I got help. Help from friends who are truly invaluable to me in ways I could not possibly convey because I don’t know that many words. I’d love to say it got better immediately, and I never even thought about doing it again, but shiiiit, you know that’s not how life works. I still struggle with it to this day. I was however, on the road to healing, both physically and mentally. The problem remained though, these scars would be with me forever. You can still see them if you look close enough at my arms, and it’s been a solid ten years or so since the first major incidents. Now, as someone who already had a pretty low vision of himself, this did not help at all. I hated going outside, I hated putting myself out there in the world. I hated what people might think, might say, might point out. It was an awful ouroboros of thoughts leading to actions leading to thoughts leading to actions. I was disgusted with who I was and what I looked like. From the fat, to the scars, to the fact that I thought my head was too big, and my feet too small. Now, as a guy, you don’t know that you get to feel this way. We don’t talk about how men can obsess over their looks and how it makes them feel as much as we really do. There’s not a lot of self help books for that kind of situation, or if there is, I sure didn’t find any. Mostly 'cause I didn’t look that hard, mostly because I was afraid to ask for help, mostly because I didn’t know I was allowed too. There’s that ouroboros again.

This is where the whole nudist thing kicks in. See, my whole life, I always kinda hated clothes, getting dressed, shopping for them, gah, I just hate it. I was always more comfortable naked than anyway else. My parents on the other hand, wanted no part of anything like that. I remember as a 4 year old getting told I was too old to walk around without being fully dressed. Socks, Pants, Underwear, Shirt, the whole 9 yards. I remember bring up the subject to my mom, who was so horrified at the concept of me being a nudist she actually started yelling despite herself. We once watched a documentary where one of the characters was raise in a nudist family, there weren’t even on screen, and my parents would rally against them, talking about how it’s sick and why have these people no shame? I always gave a half-harted  affirmation, but on the inside, it was killing me. I never drank, did drugs, had underage, unprotected sex, got into fights, that wasn’t really my thing. My rebellion was being naked. Naked inside, outside, sometimes with friends, sometimes in public, for as long as humanly possible, down to the last millisecond I could. But during the rough patch, I hated how I looked so much I stayed covered up, to a ridiculous degree. I’m talking long sleeve shirts in summertime, wearing shorts in the bathtub kind of covering. It was a mess. I figured the whole thing was a phase and it was time to outgrow it. It was time to repress some feelings and urges, and get back shoving my emotions and feelings of inadequacy back down my own throat.

I know it was a stupid idea. I’m also in the future.

This went on for a while, although I can’t remember how long. I felt miserable, and couldn’t figure out why. I kept wearing increasingly baggy clothes to hide what I though deserved to be hid. But I wasn’t getting any better internally, it just looked like it. I didn’t feel any better about the way I looked, I just stopped looking. I don’t know what changed, eventually. Something did though. Maybe I just cracked through the shell I had formed around myself. But for the life of me, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I may have hated the way I looked, but I hated clothes more, I guess.

When you’re naked for a long amount of time, a few things happen. At first, you’re highly aware and tactile about every single thing around you. You’re aware of every imperfection on your body, from love handles, to acne, to scars, to weird ingrown hairs, to what you need to shave, to how dry your knees are. Everything, Every. Damn. Thing. And then? You forget about it. You focus on something else, you watch TV, you play video games, you clean the house, you check your garden, whatever it is, and you forget about what little things bug you about you. When you do it over and over again, that first part where you obsess about everything becomes shorter, and shorter, until it eventually disappears altogether. Nudity helped me come to peace with who I am, and what I look like. I may not like a lot of the things about me. But I don’t obsess, it doesn’t ruin me, it doesn’t encapsulate all I am anymore. The biggest change was seeing it happen to other people, the first time I ever went to a nude event, it was the Portland Naked Bike Ride in 2016, and you realize how diverse we all really are. I saw fat people, skinny people, trans-gendered people, men, women, children of all shapes, sizes and colours hanging out and talking to people. I was horrified about what they would think about me when I came walking in, but no one batted an eye. We talked, we laughed, we shared stories and jokes and videos about whatever. I finally realized that the only person saying these terrible things about me and they way I looked, was me.

Whenever I finally tell people that I’m a nudist, I get one of two reactions. One is always someone showing a ton of interest, but not wanting to admit it, so they ask a lot of questions, but try to do it superstitiously, and two, people who say stuff like “That’s so cool, but I could never do it myself,” and that one always bums me out. We have taught people from the time that they’re born to the time they die, that being naked is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad thing, and is only to be reserved for taking a shower no longer than ten minutes, and having sex in the missionary position only for the purposes of procreation after marriage, and for the love of all that is holy never speak of it, or practice it outside of these two times. It’s terrible to shame someone for something so simple and natural and helpful. To tell people right out of the gate that their body is shameful and should be hidden away because “No one wants to see that.” We kick their self esteem in the chest before it even has a chance to get started

I’m getting kind of soapbox-y and that’s not the point I’m trying to make. The point is, I fully believe that nudism saved my perception of myself, and I feel like people need to give it a chance. Separate it from it’s sexual connotation and invite your friends over for a naked movie night or something like that. I even ran a naked DND session once, and it went over like gangbusters. It helps folks who t think they’ll be uncomfortable for the first time focus on something else, and realize life is just that much better. Getting people naked and watching their faces go from assuming it’s going to be awkward to genuine fun and comfort is one of my favourite feelings in the world, because we stop putting so much pressure on ourselves and what we wear and what we look like, when no one has anything to hide..