2020 Or Shaving My Balls With A Dull Box Grater

     For once, I am glad that I don't have to write about music in order to feed myself.  This being December, the obligatory year end list would have been a hurdle between me and a sandwich that I don't think I would have been able to clear this year.

     I did not keep track of what records came out this year for a multitude of reasons.  That's not to say that I didn't buy a metric ton of records and Bandcamp downloads over the past twelve months but I didn't keep my usual studious notes on what went through the speakers.

     Having been given a brain injury's worth of trauma before the plague and civil unrest of this year, time has been playing weird tricks on me while I've been locked in my house.  This year seemed to fly by at breakneck speed while simultaneously dragging on endlessly.  Flipping through the stacks of records that I've been neglecting to file away on the shelves, I found myself thinking “Wow, that record came out this year? I thought that was last year.” or thinking something came out a few weeks ago when it was months ago.

     Given the awfulness that this year has been, I was in serious need of comfort food records and didn't spend much time with anything new.  The Stooges, The Clash, Black Sabbath, Dinosaur Jr., Bad Religion, Buzzcocks and Motorhead were in heavy rotation.  Luckily for me, Funhouse, Paranoid, and Ace Of Spades received the anniversary box set treatment so I was able to take deep dives into those.

     Listening to David Bowie was a struggle that I had to give up on.  There was too much loss and his voice was like lemon juice in the wound.  Blackstar breaks me every damn time.  I haven't been able to even look at my Beatles' records, let alone take them off the shelf to listen to them.  They were one of Mom's favorites and I'm not ready for that yet.

     Quicksand, Helmet, Unsane, Jesus Lizard and Snapcase came in handy this year when I needed to fill the house with enough noise to prevent anything else from entering my brain.  I was reminded that Slip, Meantime and Progression Through Unlearning could be true friends in dark times.

     I was only able to walk through the doors of a record store about three times this year.  I made it to the second of the three Record Store Day “drops.”  I skipped the first one due to weather and there was too much COVID in the air for the third “drop” and the Black Friday releases.  The other two times were for supply runs for protective sleeves and the like.

     Since merely thinking about Spotify gets my blood pressure up, and I don't have their bullshit application on any of my devices, I don't have one of those spiffy year end lists that everyone was posting at the beginning of December.

     I'm sure there will be some glaring omissions but here are some records of note that came out over the past twelve months:

Erase—No Man

This Land Is Your Landfill—The Homeless Gospel Choir

Wonderful Hell—War On Women

What You Gonna Do When The Grid Goes Down?—Public Enemy

Protean Threat—Oh Sees

III—Fuzz

Self-Surgery—Mrs. Piss

Stay Alive—Laura Jane Grace

     Fetch The Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple was a damn near perfect piece of art.  That record still gets my nomination for Punk record of the year.  All the white boys can scream and yell all they want but they won't come close to Fetch The Bolt Cutters.  Fiona Apple's words cut like knives and they go deep.

     NO from Boris was the one record that I kept going back to over and over again.  I don't even know how to describe it but I have spent hours on end with that record.  It started as a Bandcamp only download but has since been pressed to vinyl.  It's distributed as an import from Japan so don't look at the price tag unless you want a nosebleed.  It hurt the wallet but is worth every penny.

     The wonders of NO also pointed me in the direction of the band Gudon.  Gudon was a Japanese hardcore band from the mid to late '80s.  Boris covered their song “Fundamental Error” on NO so my curiosity was piqued.  If my bare minimum of internet research is correct, a former member of Gudon runs the label Bloodsucker Records who had a hand in the vinyl release of NO.  He saw fit to run off a batch of Gudon CDs in case there are weirdos like me that might want to pay the import price and exorbitant shipping cost to get the music from Japan to my CD player.

     Boris also had reissues of Absolutego and Amplifier Worship on Third Man Records along with another collaboration with Merzbow.  And they put some of their harder to find music up on Bandcamp so there's no need to break the bank on the limited physical releases if they ever turn up on Discogs or eBay.

     I do have an immense amount of sympathy for any band or artist that had a record come out in January or February or had one in the pipeline just as the shelter in place orders were going into effect.  All of that preparation and planning, from doing press to hitting the road to share the songs.  All of that work was flushed down the toilet and replaced with playing acoustic live streams on Instagram.  And that didn't even last very long because suddenly Zuckerberg got very shy about potential copyright infringement if someone played a cover song so that was shut down too.

     If a band or a small label put out a record this year, after knowing full well that the year was lost, I would almost consider that an act of bravery from a creative standpoint.  Since the only way to recoup the expense of making a record these days is through touring, it almost seems like a losing proposition for all parties involved.  If there were multiple vinyl colors available, I made sure to pick up one of each through mail order.

     Due to the botched response of our government and fellow citizens, there is no end in sight to this shut down and getting bands back on the road.  And that's if there's anywhere left to play when it's safe to have a room full of people again.

     Even if that spending bill that includes funding relief for venues ever gets through Congress, after looking at the other bullshit that's in the bill, I'm sure it will be nothing but a giant novelty check made out directly to Ticketmaster/Live Nation/Clear Channel.  Or at the very least, venues would need a team of lawyers and accountants to fill out all of the paperwork involved to apply for the funds.

     I don't see things getting back anywhere close to the way they were prior to COVID.  I've heard talk of Ticketmaster wanting to see some sort proof of vaccination before allowing people to enter venues.  I can only imagine how poorly the meathead security at places like Stage AE will handle that.

     There is way too much “wait and see” involved in this for my tastes.  If this year has taught me anything, it's to expect the worst from the majority of people and see way too few people rise to the occasion.

Crayon Death At Club Laga Possibly On April 23, 1999

     Here are pictures of Crayon Death that I took at Club Laga on what I am guessing was April 23, 1999.  I really wish I had taken better notes about these shows.

     Here's a link to audio from the show that was definitely on April 23, 1999 at Club Laga:  https://thecazartchronicles.bandcamp.com/album/live-at-club-laga-pittsburgh-pa-4-23-1999

Downtown Pittsburgh, September 27, 2019: Part Two

 Here's part two of the pictures that I took from a rooftop in Downtown Pittsburgh on September 27, 2019.

Raiders Of The Lost Test Pressing

     In the wee hours of Thanksgiving morn, I found myself insomnia/depression scrolling through eBay to pass the time.  I wasn't really looking for anything in particular but merely plugging in different band names to see if anything interesting was available.

     That's when a test pressing of Killer Of Sheep's album Scorned popped up.  It was being sold by someone from the label that put the record out and it was being sold at a not so friendly price.  And that price stuck in my craw a bit.

     The likelihood is very high that I could have come up with a copy of this test pressing locally, and at a better price, by sending around a few text messages or making some phone calls.  Both weighed down heavily with a heaping helping of gratitude and many a “Please and Thank you.”  But that wasn't the point.

     The point is that that record should not have been out in the wild in the first place.  And definitely not in the savage lands of eBay.  As Indiana Jones famously said, “That belongs in a museum!!!” or, at the very least, in my record collection.

     A test pressing of Scorned deserves a loving home and who am I not to provide said home.  I also wanted to keep it out of the hands of the cursed record flippers who scoop records up and resell them for double the price somehow forgetting that at the end of the day, these are only records.  If you'd like evidence of that, there is currently a copy of the first Killer Of Sheep EP, Out Of Time, being sold on Discogs for $99.50.  The last time that 7-inch was sold on the site, it went for three dollars.  I'm glad I've got a few of those laying around.

     One of the pitfalls of being a record nerd is that there are some records that I will buy every time I see them in the bins.  This is why I have several old pressings of the same Clash records.  I take them home, clean them up and keep them in a temperature and light controlled environment.  When I take one off the shelf to listen to, I make sure to grab a different one from the last time so they all get played from time to time.  My house is more or less an animal rescue/sanctuary but for records.  I know it's weird and trivial but at least I'm not beating up church ladies for their social security checks or a cop for a hobby.

     That's why when I saw the test pressing of a record from a band that means a lot to me I had no problem plunking down a day's wages to get it off of the market and onto my shelves.  The fact that the guy from label was charging such a high price for it bothered me to no end so I could also suggest that I bought the record out of spite.  I know that handing over way too much money for a record that should not have been sold for that amount of money makes little to no sense but I never said I was smart.

     I paid up and eagerly awaited my shipping notification.  Since the record was coming from Southern California, I knew it might take a minute to land on my porch.  My patience was rewarded earlier this week when it arrived among a stack of other vinyl mailers.  I am almost positive that everyone that works at my post office hates me due to the frequent trips they make to my house which is why I tip big during the holiday season.

     I figured out which package contained Scorned and put it aside.  Saving the best for last.  First up was a Bad Religion bootleg of a show from 1989 followed by the second Okilly Dokilly record which is a Ned Flanders/Simpsons themed metal band.  The third vinyl mailer actually had a book in it which was fitting since it was a book about record collecting titled Stay Fanatic!!!, Vol.2 by Henry Rollins.

     Then it was time to open the Killer Of Sheep record and holy shit was I disappointed and furious when I opened that package.  The record was only shipped in the paper sleeve that came from the pressing plant that had the hand written information on it. The asshole at the label stuffed it in the vinyl mailer without making sure it was flat so by the time it landed in Pittsburgh, the paper sleeve was severely wrinkled.  This might not seem like a big deal but as someone that would like to archive this test pressing for posterity and evidence that the band existed, this is a huge fucking problem.  And somehow, the record itself was covered in scratches and some sort of grit.  Were they keeping a potted plant on it at the office?  Fucking savages.  You'd think they'd have taken note of how much I paid for the damned thing and maybe packed it more securely.

     This is one of the other pitfalls of record collecting.  Encountering a record seller that does not have an appreciation for the sincerity and psychosis of the record buyer.  I could have gone unhinged and sent a nasty email to the seller and left a less than positive rating for the transaction but that would not have settled anything or magically fixed the condition of the record.

     I gave the record a bath, placed the sleeve between a couple of box sets in an effort to flatten it back out and wrote damn near a thousand words about the ordeal, you know, like a normal person would do.  And after a few listens, the scratches don't seem to have any affect on the play back.

     I would like to think that I'll get tired of record collecting at some point and succumb to the awfulness of streaming, especially because incidents like this sure do suck the fun out of it.  But then again, ones and zeroes over broadband don't create cool artifacts that me and maybe four other people care about.

But Wait!!! There's More!!!

     I had a weird but brief encounter with the how the more well to do part of the population lives and it is something I don't quite understand.  It reaffirmed my status as a class warrior and made me more appreciative of who I am, the simplicity that I strive for and the people I consider to be friends.

     I ended up at the funeral home because a friend of my parents had passed from the same rare cancer that my mother died of.  This was one of the few times that I have been around people since the beginning of the endless plague and the first time I was in a funeral home since my mother died so every bit of social anxiety and depression that I normally have was suddenly cranked up to eleven like some sort of fucked up Spider Sense.  While I was walking across the parking lot of the funeral home, I was already having chest pains and giving myself a nice layer of flop sweat.  I should have just turned tail and gone back to the car.

     Everything was going as expected.  I said a few hellos, signed the book and was enduring small talk with a few of the older folks.  And then it got weird.  One of the nephews of the deceased had flown in from California and had decided that he wanted to talk to me for the first time in over twenty years since we used to play together as kids.  For normal, well adjusted people this probably would not present itself as a problem but for me, at that moment, it was the last thing I needed.

     It rapidly went from me being surprised and happy to see him to me being regaled with stories of competing in triathlons that were held in different parts of the world and purchasing property in multiple states.  I don't even know what this person does for a living and I didn't bother to ask because he was talking to me like I already knew what he did for money.  He was talking to me like it was a sales pitch and he was a Bass-O-Matic or a timeshare.  None of what he was saying involved records, comic books or Star Wars so I was less than impressed and slowly started to tune out.

     I almost laughed when he told me of his plans to quit working for a while to go volunteer in third world countries to “You know, try to give back a little.”  If I stop working, I stop eating and start involuntarily camping.  If I were able to get a word in edgewise, I would have let him know that poverty is never too far away from where we're standing and that the United States is also a third world country.  We just do a better job of hiding it.

     One of the biggest problems he said he was having was convincing his wife that they should buy a $200 to $300,000 house in both California and Florida instead of only buying a $600 to $700,000 house in California.  He then went on to discuss the tax benefits of buying the two houses instead of the one.  I was completely lost.  I'd never consider myself to be the smartest person in any room that I happen be in but I'm also not the dumbest.  I had heard and understood all of the words he was saying but not in the particular order that he was putting them in.  He concluded with a “Well, you know how it is.”

     No.  No, I don't know how it is.

     To me, it's March 277th, 2020.  I am currently playing the role of teacher's aid, IT department and short order cook in addition to my usual duties at an office job that is slowly killing me physically, mentally and creatively while paying me just barely enough so I can almost survive.  Struggling to pay a mortgage and maintain a house that I shouldn't have bought that's in a shitty but not too shitty neighborhood.  So no, I don't know how it is to have luxury problems.  And I'm not the least privileged person that I know.  And why the fuck would anyone want two houses to maintain?  Oh wait, he can probably afford to pay people to do that for him.

     The guy wasn't saying all of these things in a bragging or flaunting manner to be an asshole.  It was almost as if he experienced life as a thing to be put on a resume`.  I get that he was just trying to make conversation but holy hell was it exhausting.  It still felt like he was going to throw in a second Pocket Fisherman by the time he was done talking and it was really uncomfortable.  There wasn't even a “So what have you been up to?” anywhere on the horizons of his speech pattern.  It was all “What can I do to get you into this used car today?”

     Is this what attending too many corporate retreats and seminars does to people?  Is this how well adjusted people who can't (or refuse) to see through the bullshit veneer of every day life interact with each other?  Is this how their weekend barbecues in Suburbia play out?  Is that how people turn out when they have parents that encouraged them in their endeavors and actually liked them?

     Luckily, he was interrupted by one of his family members so I was able to slowly back out of the room and then immediately head back to the car to disappear into the night.

     I do wonder what his reaction would have been if I had the chance to tell him that I'm working on writing, taking pictures and helping out punk bands instead of mentioning my day job.  I'm sure at some point he would have asked how much money I make by doing those things.  And then he probably would have needed medical attention when I replied, “Nothing.  I do it to do it.”

     Not everything in life has to involve money or the lack thereof.  Sometimes people do things for the sole purpose of doing things.