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So, I've been pretty fucking grim on LJ lately, and I'm tired of whinging about shit that pisses me off. I'm going to write about something I really dig, instead.
All y'all: What are you diggin' today, Martha?
Me: Mike Patton. Who I've "dug" solidly since 1989 or so.
Within the last week, I unearthed and ripped my copy of The Real Thing (w00t!) and I also procured, via emusic, Tomahawk's latest, Anonymous (bloody fucking brilliant).
Where to start with this one? Actually, fuck it -- there's no way to articulate just how awesome this album is, especially compared to its predecessors. Just...goddamn. I hadn't listened to this album for a couple years (since I made the permanent switch to mp3) and the fresh re-listen cements my opinion that The Real Thing is one of the strongest and most interesting albums to be released in the last 20 years.
I mean, how can you not like the fat (faaaat) bass opening of "The Morning After" or the kick-in-the-teeth album opener "From Out of Nowhere?" or the crazy organ noodlings and a really rippin' rendition of "War Pigs?" Should be required listening for anyone over the age of 1 month.
Holy fuck. Imagine if you kidnapped Mike Patton, stuffed him full of mescaline and jimson weed, set him loose for a few days in the Sonoran Desert with a canteen of whisky and three recordings: Sunn O)))'s Black One, Massive Attack's Mezzanine and a collection of Native American war-dance chants. Then throw him in a sweat lodge with the rest of Tomahawk and some recording equipment. Anonymous (or something close to it) would be the result. And I'm not entirely convinced that my hypothetical isn't actually pretty close to reality. Yes, it's insanely, amazingly pretentious. It's also compelling as hell, and a flat-out joy to experience.
All y'all: What are you diggin' today, Martha?
Me: Mike Patton. Who I've "dug" solidly since 1989 or so.
Within the last week, I unearthed and ripped my copy of The Real Thing (w00t!) and I also procured, via emusic, Tomahawk's latest, Anonymous (bloody fucking brilliant).
Where to start with this one? Actually, fuck it -- there's no way to articulate just how awesome this album is, especially compared to its predecessors. Just...goddamn. I hadn't listened to this album for a couple years (since I made the permanent switch to mp3) and the fresh re-listen cements my opinion that The Real Thing is one of the strongest and most interesting albums to be released in the last 20 years.
I mean, how can you not like the fat (faaaat) bass opening of "The Morning After" or the kick-in-the-teeth album opener "From Out of Nowhere?" or the crazy organ noodlings and a really rippin' rendition of "War Pigs?" Should be required listening for anyone over the age of 1 month.
Holy fuck. Imagine if you kidnapped Mike Patton, stuffed him full of mescaline and jimson weed, set him loose for a few days in the Sonoran Desert with a canteen of whisky and three recordings: Sunn O)))'s Black One, Massive Attack's Mezzanine and a collection of Native American war-dance chants. Then throw him in a sweat lodge with the rest of Tomahawk and some recording equipment. Anonymous (or something close to it) would be the result. And I'm not entirely convinced that my hypothetical isn't actually pretty close to reality. Yes, it's insanely, amazingly pretentious. It's also compelling as hell, and a flat-out joy to experience.
