The Cramps_._A Date With Elvis (1986)(Full Album)

February 4, 2009, Glendale, California. This is where Elvis dies for the second time, his heart burned out from too much rock 'n' roll. Lux Interior dies, and with him, all the concept of cannibal rock 'n' roll, far from the glittery iconography of the 50s bad boys and instead populated by pornography, necrophilic obsessions, vulgar pin-ups, and B-grade music. I like to imagine him surrounded by the loving attention of the corpses of serial killers and motel whores whose torments he sang about for thirty long years. But it’s a distorted image, refusing to bend to the pain of losing one of the last true rock 'n' roll heroes who stomped a stage and still feeds on that apologia of bad taste that the Cramps championed. In reality, we don’t know what’s on the other side, crossing the threshold of the afterlife. And everyone is free to find whatever they want there: Buddha with his collection of chill-out records, Beelzebub having fun with the spirits of porn stars, Vishnu pissing in the milk of Adissescien, or Paolo Bonolis sipping his coffee while debating the Festival with Saint Peter. What is certain is that we will stop checking for updates on the Cramps' website, in desperate hope of yet another act of madness to be consumed under a stage or in those moments of extravagant, intimate, domestic madness that we experience in our home, when we indulge in the illusion that life can take the form of Poison Ivy and that we will die in a coffin shaped like a guitar, as they carry our casket through the old alleys of the city, accompanied by a procession of zombies dancing the twist on those porous bones like latex foam.

What remains, then, are the records. Or rather, something more, if it can console us: not just the records but The Records of the Cramps. They stand in a category all their own. The Cramps that brought everyone together: garagers, rockers, darks, rockabillies. The Cramps that caused disagreement among everyone: purists, Catholics, moralists, do-gooders, censors, sophists, fundamentalists, orthodox, animal rights activists, and fans of the Police.

I like to think that Lux descended (or ascended, depending on the elevator he uses, NdLYS) to shake Elvis's hand. To celebrate A Date with Elvis, the greatest rock 'n' roll record ever conceived by the human mind. An album that opens with a vibrato that shakes the earth like an earthquake of unrestrained lust and closes with the languid cover of It’s Just That Song by Charlie Feathers. Between the two is the usual bacchanal of Cramps-themed obscenities rich in references to old bad songs from the 50s.

… to be continued - The Reverend
 
Hello @[G]
I understand the annoyance of having me around all the time. However, it bothers me to have my stuff in a place that doesn't want me.
So: I had asked you for a favor, could you do it for me? At that point, you won't see me anymore. What’s the point of keeping my thoughts here and telling me that my thoughts are no longer welcome? Delete them all and I’ll stop opening the site solely to annoy you during every shit break I take.

Hello, I'm done
(Don't worry, I’ll clean up after myself)
 
Oscillation 2018 Crayola Eyes #psych
 
Fabio Concato "In trattoria"

Concato is like snow: it makes no noise.
 
Agnese
It never gets old...
 
Spectrum (for Sonic Boom) #psych #new #2023
Crayola Eyes Derivative but all in all a nice job, while listening to this track it seems pointless to mention names, those who have ears understand right away if it's worth getting closer.
 
C'mon little girl - The Wylde Mammoths

"After the ultra-primitive 'Go Baby Go', the Wylde Mammoths leave the cave.

Still covered in Pleistocene hides, they start roaming the Scandinavian lands. They leave behind the clubs and begin using finer cutting tools.

The derailing, reverberated, and manic sound of the very first records seems to literally unfold into a form of sunny garage folk.

Things That Matter and the single Help That Girl! have a completely different intensity than the previous album, a positive and vibrant energy enhanced by a recording that gives breath to the cryptic sound of 'Go Baby Go', a voodoo ritual around the diabolical image of Bo Diddley.

Now that Peter has banished that ghost and the less imposing presence of his brother, he can make space for his new obsession with the crackling sounds of small bands mixing folk with beat, on the models he himself showcases among his own crafted pieces: the Squires from Connecticut, the Go-Betweens from Corona, Queens, the Swiss Dynamites, the Big Beats from Virginia.

These are the 'things that matter' now to Peter Maniette, more than the animalistic R 'n B that had intoxicated us a few years prior, along with his fixation on underdressed women that he plastered around the band's van.

A less wild sound but still vibrant, softly imbued with adolescent melancholy and bitterness.

Then extinction will take it all away, as history and archaeology teach us, but every now and then some skeleton re-emerges from the sands to remind us of our past, even that which we believed was buried."

The Reverend
 
The Big *R*Lebowski*R*, the philosophical rug that sets the tone for the known universe
Meredith Monk - Walking Song
Oh yes, my thoughts about this case have taken on a dimension that is more than anxious!
 
Bar Kokhba Sextet - Zechriel

John Zorn (7 out of 10)
"Zechriel"

#jazzlegends
 
The Cramps - Goo Goo Muck (Official Audio)
@[sfascia carrozze]
@[G] and South Tyrol is leading 2-0 on the field of Benevento. Over to you.
 
Henry Gross - The Ever Lovin' Days

#unochenonsiannoiavaperniente

An almost impossible attempt at a semi-serious journey through the discography and countless collaborations of Steve Gadd, in almost chronological order
1973 Henry Gross - Self-titled