Showing posts with label Rock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rock. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

No Visible Scars


As my esteemed colleague, Judge Shredd, mentioned below, We are in the end times. You only have to look at the economic and environmental situations across the globe, the rampant crime and disease rates, mankind has run its course. Mother Nature isn't too happy anymore and Megaupload is gone. We are facing extinction.
During these bleak times you need bleak music to soundtrack those last few heartbeats and breaths escaping you as the world slows down.
No Visible Scars managed to gain my attention with the 1970's/80's Giallo/Exploitation/Porn inspired artwork and imagery, they're love of the timeless C-90 tape,  and the fact quite a few of the digital releases are free. Most Illcon followers should be able to relate to one of those. I decided to give a heads up on a few of the releases worth investigating.

Elders Of The Apocalypse - The Law Of Iron (2011)
Nasty and ragged, thrashy death metal by guys with nasty names such as Plague Bearer and Sadistik Slayer. I guess the term "war metal" suits this best. I can hear elements of Kreator and Sodom in there alongside some  Bestial Warlust black noise and a slew of suitably apocalyptic samples. Awesome cover art included.

Nightbitch - Sex And Magic promo (2010)
This is the one I have been digging the most. Comprising the smooth pipes of that dude from Hour Of 13 with some total NWOBHM riffing crossed with proto-Doom jams. THIS SHIT ROCKS. This was a 3-track promo for the EP of the same name. They don't seem to have much else available but they have connections to a whole host of other bands according to Encyclopedia Metallum.

Poison Tongue - Lick You Sweety (2010)
That cover seem pretty attractive doesn't it? Bit more left field this time. Poison Tongue is Giallo/Exploitation inspired noisescapes. Its not full on harsh noise ( though it gets plenty harsh in places) but more ambient and unsettling due to the schizophrenic changes in volume and pacing. Kind of like those quiet bits in between Goblin freak outs crossed with Beherit's noise tendencies.

There you go gang. They have the usual places online here and here. I'm digging this label a lot recently. You should to.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Pagan Altar - Volume 1 (1982)



I'm not entirely sure what to put here to be honest. This band simply rules. Pure, plain, and simple and if you think otherwise, I'm not sure what to tell you other than: "...that's a bloody shame!" As I sit here typing in between my Ecology class and Senior capstone class, I am actually wearing a Pagan Altar shirt. Yep, you heard me correct! I'm THAT much of a fan...

Normally I'd discuss the band in more depth, and I'd probably would disclose more detail on my introduction and experience with the band, but seeing as I only have a few spare minutes to type said post, and furthermore I still have yet to run to the restroom, then eat, and prepare for my next class of course - not to mention get to the damned class on time - I'm going to leave you with this:

This band rules. Period. This release, titled Volume 1, was Pagan Altar's first full length and recorded in 1982 but was not officially released until 1998. If you're a fan of doom metal, and further NWOBHM, you cannot go wrong with this release. Fans of Black Sabbath, Witchcraft, Candlemass, Angel Witch and Pentagram look no further!
This is truly a great listen and is recommended to all who are into heavy metal, doom, and rock. Again, this band rules.

Get it Here, Here,
or Here





Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Stallone soundtrack pump up/round up.

The joys and awesomeness of movie montage music have been extolled many a time here on Illcon. From the awesome Blood Bros mix-tapes to Cobra's in-house work out mix, we all know how hard they rule as well as the obvious mental and physical benefits that can be attained from listening to such down right manly, life affirming and brutally cool tunes.
Now, your probably wondering what all this is leading to? Well, as a sucker for soundtracks in general I routinely go through my collection and realised that out of everything I have, there is one actor who seems to have dominance over the rest of my OST shelf, that one man is Mr Sylvester Stallone.


On closer inspection I realised that he also seems to have the most relevance when it comes to pump up montages ( as well as more often than not having soundtracks that are far more entertaining than the actual films they correspond to). I mean, Rocky is the main culprit when it comes down to it. In fact, the first 4 Rocky films possess enough sweaty working out set to awesome rock music footage to power a small country. Eye of The Tiger, case in point. The ruling Kingpin of montage riffary. So in the Illcon spirit of educated the uneducated, I have pulled out my personal picks of the Stallone OST library for you good people to enjoy, kick back, work out and be cool to.

Starting of with the undisputed king of pump up soundtracks, Rocky IV. The first Rocky film I ever saw also possesses the best of the series music. Of course Eye of The Tiger is here, but so is No Easy Way Out, Sweetest Victory and Hearts On Fire. Not to mention Vince Dicola's two instrumental ass-kickers. Pure montage fury. I'm also pretty sure the film has more montages per reel than any other film.



I don't think anyone knew where Stallone was going with this film, I am pretty sure he didn't either but he made damn sure the soundtrack was solid. Ignore the stinkers from his brother Frank and the limp effort by Kenny Loggins, just focus on Sammy Hagar's timeless Winner Takes It All. Asia's Gypsy Soul, Larry Greene's Take It Higher and Giorgio Moroder's instrumental The Fight. Need a soundtrack for your next Tuesday arm wrestling meet up? Here you go.



Can a buddy cop movie go wrong? Even with Kurt Russell involved? I am afraid so. Case in point, Tango & Cash. Despite a pretty okay chemistry between the Kurtster and Stallone, Robert Z'dar swinging his giant chin around and some pretty sweet cowboy boots with a gun hidden in the heel, this was a surprisingly lumpen affair. The same can't be said of the classy score courtesy of the main man Harold Faltermeyer though. Combining the upbeat, streetwise sounds of his Beverly Hills Cop score alongside the more brooding work he cultivated on The Running Man, Mr Faltermeyer pulls another winner out the bag.



Believe it or not, this was originally what Beverly Hills Cop was going to be like. After being pushed off the project, Stallone vowed he would make the film he intended. The result was Cobra. Awesome for being so lame on so many levels. The soundtrack is worthwhile for Jean Beauvoir;s Feel The Heat, Gary Wright's lost classic Hold On To Your Vision and the instrumental efforts by Sylvester Levay. Perfect music to soundtrack some rogue policing.



You decide to make a movie about Billy Dee Williams and Stallone chasing a crazed, European bomber as he blows up innocent people. Who would you get to soundtrack it? How about organ destroying, keyboard pioneer Keith Emerson? Superb idea. Emerson crafted a pretty solid score with this one. In a very similar way to Lalo Schiffrin approaching his work on Dirty Harry from a jazz background, Emerson approached Nighthawks with a head full of prog keyboard noodling and worked unhindered until it was complete.


There is no security



All this awesomeness has made me wonder when the montage actually came into use? I remember Rocky from being a kid but did such a thing exist in the 60's or 70's?

Monday, December 26, 2011

Don't say we never give you nuthin'




















Not content with finishing off my Eno series with style, verve, moxie, chutzpah and aplomb, I have also taken it upon myself to give you good good people a couple of small christmas gifts. Call it a token of our esteem from us here at the IllCon compound for it is, after all, the season of goodwill and so forth.




















I did sneakily foreshadow this post in my last one, mentioning, as I did,'writing bollocks about massively overlooked bands from New Zealand' and my enthusiasm for the TV cartoon 'Adventure Time WIth Finn & Jake', so that may well give you a clue as to at least some of the content herein.




















So, my first gift here- just a small one really - is an alternate version of the theme tune to 'Adventure Time'. I find the main theme to be the weakest thing about the show - far too indie and twee for my sensitive ears - so coming across this version that borders on Fancy Metal was pretty darned algebraic for me...



Now, I'm sure there'll be the usual naysayers out there slinging the 'H' word around and blah blah blah, but to those people I say 'SHUT THE FUCK UP'. You soulless cunts, you probably don't like the goddamn Muppets either, and I don't fucking trust people who don't like the goddamn Muppets.


















...aaaaaand relax.

My main present is something that I'm pretty damn sure isn't currently to be found anywhere else on t'internet. That's right people, we got us an EXCLUSIVE. First, though, I gotta ask, does the name 'Shihad' mean anything to anyone?




















If your answer is 'yes', then you probably already know just how damn good their first few records were and you may well already have a copy of the recording(s) that I'm about post.
However, if your answer is a no then I think you're in for a treat. Here's a wee taster to whet your whistle...



Pretty damn rockin' huh? Kinda 'Helmet-y' y'think? Hell, have another...



Yup. I dig 'em.

Both tracks come from 'Killjoy', Shihad's second LP, which was released back in 1995 and is one of my all-time favourite records.
Their debut EP 'Devolve' and their first LP, and first international release, 'Churn' (produced by Killing Joke's Jaz Coleman, fact fans!) were pretty decent, but 'Killjoy' is just a BEAST. Blessed with a rhythm section that pumps like the engine on an exceptionally fine ship-of-the-line and some right noisy guitars, 'Killjoy' totally rocks my world. Hell, those guitars that crash back in at 3.24 during 'Bitter' sound less like guitars and more like heavy steel cables lashing against one another. KILLER.

I was lucky enough to see them live on their European tour in support of 'Killjoy'- although not, alas, in their Faith No More support slot - and can wholeheartedly say that they were a fucking fantastic live band too.




















As I said earlier, I haven't been able to find this posted ANYWHERE else on the internet, so consider yourselves very lucky boys and girls. I've even added the two B-sides from the 'You Again' CD Single - one of which is a cover of Bowie's 'Boys Keep Swinging' - AND the two Shihad tracks from their 'Happy Families' Split CD with fellow Kiwi lunatics Head Like A Hole. These are all from my own personal, deeply cherished, CDs so you'd damn well better appreciate 'em!


















Get 'Killjoy' by Shihad Here.



















Now, just before I leave you to slip further into your Turkey/Tofurkey-with-all-the-trimmings induced comas, I'd just like to add that Shihad still exist - their website can be found here - but they have done nothing of worth since their highly divisive 1996 self-titled LP, so if you decide to go digging around online after getting all fired up by 'Killjoy', don't say I didn't warn you.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Blue Öyster Cult - s/t (1972)

And you may be wondering to yourself why you should give this a chance. A reader of this fine blog, obviously worldly and well-schooled by their choice of internet diversion, probably thinks they know the score. But seriously, forget whatever associations you may have picked up over the years. Forget “Godzilla”. Forget the accrued distaste classic rock can leave in a young punk or metalhead in the middle of nowhere, when such things are deemed normative and your Morbid Angel or Dead Kennedys t-shirt is seen as an indicator of the worst sin imaginable: that of difference. And for fuck's sake, forget Christopher Walken and cowbells. Forget all these things and the genius of the first Blue Öyster Cult record can make its grandeur known to you (well, really any BÖC from the '70s is pretty killer, but the first one is heads and tails beyond any of 'em).


Consider:
  • The use of umlauts in a band name – How many rock bands did this before BÖC? I can count on a closed fist. How many did it after? Couldn't count on all the fingers in the world.
  • The band's name itself – taken from a poem by manager Sandy Pearlman referencing a group of aliens who secretly control Earth's affairs.
  • The band's logo – taken from an alchemical symbol denoting lead (the heaviest of metals).
  • The (unsubstantiated but hopefully true) rumor that, during the early '90s the band's popularity had plunged to the point where their show guarantee was $200. I've seen bands play living rooms and get paid more than that. Meaning, that at one point in time, it was conceivable that Blue Öyster Cult could have played your living room. They didn't. And probably wouldn't. But it's closer to the realm of possibility than with many comparable bands.


Alchemy? Aliens guiding mankind's destiny? Umlauts? I'm actually surprised this record hasn't gotten any coverage on Illcon before. Theirs is a weird shadow world, a world of Satanic biker gangs (“Transmaniacon MC”), of drug deals gone fatally wrong (“Then Came The Last Days Of May” - apparently based on the murder of three of singer Buck Dharma's friends [and let's consider that name for a minute – how many rock and roll frontmen had a name that was a play on words regarding the transcendence of several religions' concept of universal harmony and balance? It's fucking brilliant in a way that such showbiz rechristenings pretty much never are]), of the power of music as destroyer (“Cities On Flame With Rock And Roll”) and redeemer (“Redeemed”). And then along the way a few detours into bondage-inclined Canadian Mounties, astrological/alchemical musings, and what seems to be a paean to violent foot fetishism.

This.

It can be difficult to understand how to take this weird cross-pollination of ideas. It could be that they were simply trying to move past the initial era when rock and roll had to mean something (maaaaan), before the conceptual side of the music that had started so innocently bloated up into prog rock's worst excesses. But I like to think that there was a more unified vision at work, a manifestation of the dark turn that the era of peace and love had taken by 1972. Perhaps not exactly a literal representation (though much of the drug-related material seems to have had some basis in the tangible world) but an extrapolated vision of star-crossed losers, the ones who had cast their lot with the aspiring world-changers and had come up radically short. It's an almost Pynchonian narrative, a nebulous cluster of ideas in which connecting lines are not drawn for the listener, one that might seem like a forced, inchoate melange of weird-for-weird's-sake iconography if it weren't for the fact that it's treated with some degree of gravity.

Not this. Never this.

While BÖC was intended to be the American Black Sabbath, rarely did their debut album indulge in that kind of heaviness (“Cities On Flame...” is about as close as it comes). Instead, the band showcases a musical versatility that their later albums lack. There are a few musical detours, some jaunty, syncopated lounge jazz rhythmic devices, some lead guitar work that almost sounds like it could've come from a Buck Owens song – but the real heaviness is a sort of slow and eerie atmosphere that sounds like the sonic equivalent of a lava lamp and a black light, Sabbathian only in the sense that it's not far removed from “Planet Caravan.”


So let the good name of Blue Öyster Cult be clearly understood. Scour the dollar bins for copies of this record (but don't pay more than five dollars, if you do you're almost as foolish as somebody who doesn't own the album at all). Let rock and roll raze our cities and let the messages of lust and derangement guide our puny lives as our alien overlords had so obviously intended.

--

Blue Öyster Cult -s/t

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Frozen by Icewinds-Danzig III: How the Gods Kill

Cryptic Winterstroms have enshrouded The North Abyss (Flagstaff) in The Winter of the Ages (about three inches of snow). That means I have to do my legally required "winter" post, as stipulated in the Blogger Terms and Conditions.
I could easily shit out a review of an Immortal, Ulver, Dissection, Old Wainds or almost any other black metal album and fulfill my legal duties. But I'm not gonna do that this year. I'm gonna do a post on the album that most represents cold, freezing and winter to me: Danzig III: How the Gods Kill.

Danzig III doesn't have any songs about winter, coldness or freezing; and its production is quite warm, so why does it make icy shivers run down my back and my hands numb just thinking about it?

For the past two summers I've worked at the campground in the Grand Canyon National Park. I spend most of my time sitting on my ass, taking tourists money and yelling at French "people." It's nice because I get to flirt with hot European chicks and get paid a ton of fuckin money. It sucks because it seems that every hot Euro chick has a faggy Eurotrash boyfriend, I have to talk with fat Americans and French "people".

Last fall I stayed on during the school year and worked weekends at the canyon. Minus "start up costs:" gas, coffee, lunch and Taco Bell, I still had a take home of about $100 a week. The downside? I had to get there. The Grand Canyon is about 75 miles from Flag on US 180 and SR 64, and I figured out I could get from my dorm, gas up and to work in and hour and a half including gassing up and going through the south entrance. That means I was driving at about 80-90mph almost the whole time. At this time my whip was missing a driver's side window. Why didn't I get it fixxxed with the insane $$$ I was earning at the time or with the savings from the summer? Cuz I spent it all on an half stack and a 42" TV and I spent most of my weekly earnings on booze and Mexican food, and I'm a cheap motherfucker.
September and early October weren't so bad, but once it started getting cold round late October it started getting pretty rough. 25°F at 90mph is pretty cold even with the heat cranked in my car; some days I'd have to wait in the office for 30min until my hands were warm enough to type. Couple this with a screaming hangover almost every day and 5 hours of sleep on a good day or 2 hours on a bad one and you got a pretty rough commute.

Where does Danzig III fit in? I can distinctly remember the five cd's I had in the car: Danzig II: Lucifuge, Danzig III, Beheaded-Ominous Bloodline, Kataplexia-Supreme Authority and Thin Lizzy-Jailbreak. Brutal death gets muffled by 90mph wind through the window, I'd listened to Danzig II too many times by the time it started getting cold and I was getting tired of skipping all the crappy tracks on Jailbreak. That meant I was listening to Danzig III a lot, and singing along to keep myself awake. So from now on Danzig III will always be linked with ball shrinking coldness and Icewinds.

Music? Sounds like Danzig, and III is my favorite. If you like him, you already have the album; if you don't like him then you aren't gonna download it.

kinda like a dog w/ seven pupils in its eye/kinda like a madness that refuses to subside


Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Naming Your Girl Band: 1980's Edition

It’s the 80’s and let’s face it, thanks to the groundbreaking stateswomanship of First Lady Nancy Reagan, you chicks are going places you’ve never gone before. But if you're going to do all the stuff that dudes do, you had better be careful. Not all that long ago a chick playing music might have been punished by drowning in the Tigris, but we can't do that anymore so I’m going to take this opportunity to give you a little advice in coming up with a good name for your own girl band. As you probably didn't know, the name of a band is almost more important than what you actually play. You could probably come up with a totally rad band name and totally suck, but people would still come to your shows. The reason is that words are associated with images and ideas in people’s heads, they can generate all sorts of meaning, both good and bad whether or not it is explicitly there in the arrangement of letters. That’s why it’s crucially important to be strategic with your girl band name choices.

Cherry Bomb from 1986's Howard the Duck
Diaper Rash from 1984's Hardbodies
First of all, since you’re treading on territory that has until recently totally been the sacrosanct turf of dudes, be careful not to point this out. That’s totally like the fox advertising to the farmer that he’s all up in the chicken coop, it’s threatening and likely to backfire. Go for something that reassures the male need for dominance and control, a word that suggests vulnerability and a need to be taken care of. Innocence and weakness in women totally makes dudes feel like they’re strong and in control, like their power isn’t being threatened. Diaper Rash’s name is totally loaded with subtle meaning and is a primo example of excellent girl band nameage. The word “diaper” brings up both infantile helplessness AND of course babies, both of which reassure men that this girl band is not challenging established gender roles, even though they rock.

Vicious Lips from the 1988 film of the same name.
Second, and closely related to the first point about innocence is sex. Dudes are going to be thinking about boning you whether you like it or not, that’s what dudes do, so it’s important to use this to your advantage. Advertising your sexuality is a good way to get attention, using words that suggest it without explicitly saying it is a lot like wearing a lexical halter-top. Vicious Lips is a rad example of this principle because the word “lips” brings up lots of wet and warm thoughts that dudes totally dig. Cherry Bomb is another excellent girl band name because “cherry” suggests not only sex but, as above, innocence and inexperience which goes a long way toward reassuring a dude that he will remain dominant. When sex and power are firmly in their grasp, dudes will rock out to your girl band too.

If you look closely you can see dudes rocking out to girl band Diaper Rash (played by an early incarnation of Vixen)

Totally vicious' and yet, nonthreatening.
Now that you’ve gotten all of this down, I want to bring up what is perhaps most important point of all. You may have noticed that I only addressed half of each of the example girl band names above. The other half of those names are just as important in ensuring the success of each of these girl bands, as it will in yours. After cooking up all these ideas in dudes heads we still have to remember that even though they like the sex and innocence, you’re still usurping their place on the stage. Your girl band is, if not literally, figuratively in competition with their regular band. Your lack of a cock is subconsciously threatening to men, it reminds them that theirs could get cut off. It’s important to remind dudes that you’re still playing the same game, you’re not changing the rules or anything, that your “power” is not really a threat to theirs. This unspoken threat of emasculation can be easily countered by the use of man imagery and wordery. Thus “rash”, “vicious” and “bomb” are like dude symbols; violence, power and the military remind us that everything is OK. They say to people, without actually saying anything of course, “the status quo will remain unchallenged chicks and dudes in the audience!” Think about it, if your band's name was Vicious Rash Bomb, you would probably be dudes in a regular band. Conversely if you were called Cherry Diaper Lips, no dudes would ever come to your girl band’s shows. A careful combination of both sex and reassurance is the best way to make it as a chick in this topsy turvy business we dudes call music.


Saturday, February 12, 2011

HEY FATSO


Exactly one week ago today, some band called Fatso Jetson (who I had never heard of before) showed up at Bender's Bar & Grill in the heart of San Francisco's vibrant Mission District and proceeded to completely rip my sack off. I had initially shown up to see Illogical Bro Mike D's new band HORNSS (who were great as well), so this headlining band, playing "their first SF show in a decade", were really just frosting on the cake. Brother Peter and She-Bro Manslaughter were in attendance as well, and the suds were flowing, and Bender's is always great, and the tunes were loud, and the Broseph Factor was extremely high. All was well.

After picking our jaws back up off the floor at the end of Fatso Jetson's set, Peter and myself shared impressions of the aforementioned, which were almost identical in nature. We were both completely taken aback by the band, especially considering the disparate (and usually, displeasurable) elements they encompassed. This is a band that delves into such normally-undesirable genres as Dad Rock, White Dude Blues, surf, jazz, and jam-band fare, but still manages to completely melt faces. A complete anomaly. They even had a dude who played saxophone. AND HARMONICA. It was like, WHY AM I ENJOYING THIS SO MUCH? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
Chalk it up to charm, talent, and good old fashioned rock and roll, I guess. These guys were some of the nerdiest, antithesis-of-rock-star dudes I've ever seen perform, most of them probably in their 40's or 50's judging solely by appearance, and each of them commanded their instrument with equal parts grace, ferocity, and technical skill (the drummer was an especially intense spectacle to behold). The bassist and guitarist stood completely still for most of the set, but their unwavering focus and white-hot chops were enough to keep me in thrall for the entire performance. In short, these guys just rocked, really, really, REALLY fucking hard, in a way that defied the boundaries of genre, hipness, preference, or age.

But I digress. Later research would reveal Fatso Jetson to be an oft-credited pioneer in the "desert rock" genre, a more obscure cousin to bigger bands like Kyuss and Fu Manchu. Bridging the gap between the later noodlings of SST Records and the earliest rumblings of "stoner metal", Fatso has remained a sleeper cell in the Southern California rock scene for nigh unto a decade and a half, a wild card up the sleeve of a horde of pool halls, dive bars, and Mexican restaurants in the "uncool" parts of the greater Los Angeles area. I present today their first two full-length releases, Stinky Little Gods (1995) and Power of Three (1997), which, while perhaps not quite being the perfect examples of Fatso's live intensity, are nonetheless some fine examples of extremely kick-ass music--the perfect soundtrack to an afternoon spent driving around the desert in a souped-up hot rod, drinking warm beer and smoking doobies.
Their new album is a bit more frenetic and mind-melting. It's called Archaic Volumes and you motherfuckers need to BUY THAT SHIT.


STINKY LITTLE GODS (1995)


Download HERE
Purchase HERE


POWER OF THREE (1997)


Download HERE
Purchase HERE

Fatso Jetson on Last.FM

Monday, February 7, 2011

Artistic Imperialism and the Leningrad Cowboys

Let us take a look at the film that introduced the world to the Leningrad Cowboys, a product of the fertile mind of Finnish film director Aki Kaurismaki. The tale of Leningrad Cowboys (as far as this film is concerned) is a schoolyard parable of cliques, acceptance and self-image writ large upon the history of Western imperialism. “The East” was defined as an oppositional category to “The West”; an either/or dichotomy. Thus, in the minds of those people at the center of the world1 (y’know, the Medi-terranean) everything to their east, became The East. And of course, the name stuck, largely because of an accident of geography2 which, coupled with this ideology of dichotomy easily justified imperialism. This whole bi-polar categorization scheme makes it really easy to qualify things because the “in” group gets to categorize who does or does not belong, those that do not can do nothing about it except to forge their own path.

Are we, you and I dear reader,3 as a people of predominantly western European origin predestined by our cultural heritage to continue this trend? Will we always be compelled as some would contend, by our very genetic composition to separate and subjugate? To exploit and enslave other members of our species,4 to force their conformity or enact their
Not Darwin
rejection? I would argue that this is not the case, that the urge to dominate is a learned social behavior, not a “natural” one. As you may recall, once again conjuring memories of your early schooling, rejection and acceptance of one’s peers is a really a personal choice rather than acquiescence to justificatory pseudoscientifical Social Darwinist dogma.5




 

Round.
Consider this conveniently abridged history of Finland; Raided by Vikings from Sweden, invaded by the armies of Imperial Russia, attacked by the armies of Soviet Russia, and presently, shackled by the crumbling economies of the Euro-Zone and through it all gripped within the Arctic vise. Finland then is a land familiar with tyranny. Our heroes are of course named after a city in Russia, a city named after its founder, the first Russian imperialist Peter The Great. The Leningrad Cowboys (L.C. from here on out), despite their namesake and roots in the wellspring of Arctic imperialism, exemplify the rejection of social categorization and conformity. Their divergence from the expected is suggested in the prominent hairstyles they sport. Hairstyles which evoke the uniquely sculpted cranium of Oblio, the little boy in 1971’s television film The Point!6

It begins in the first scene when the L.C. audition for a local promoter. He rejects them, suggesting they head to America where “they will buy anything”. In the States they attempt to establish themselves, but again are quickly rejected. This time they are told that they might be more successful if they play something called “rock and roll”. This popular style of music is of course little more than a black hole of trite monotonous garbage, assembled from the occupied territories of a musical style which was co-opted and repackaged for the masses from the tragicomic and cathartic music of a people oppressed and enslaved by European and American imperialism. But, naïve optimists that they are, the L.C. have no idea that they have fallen again into the cycle of imperialism. Conform or perish, if you’re not with us, you’re against us, make a choice.

Their last great challenge comes from within, and this is perhaps most telling for it represents a struggle with the self; man vs. himself. During the course of their journey it has become increasingly obvious that the manager of the L.C. has been taking advantage of the band, drinking up what little income they have in cheap American lager and we later learn, not even feeding the band. Let us be honest with ourselves. There is no artist so stoic as to never even consider the idea of selling out, even for just a minute, to make it all a little easier. After all, s/he has struggled so hard to be true, s/he deserves a little respite, a little recognition, a little love.

Yet despite these odds our exemplar heroes resist the weary temptation and persist, and they discover at the end of their great and harrowing struggle the only truly valuable reward that awaits any artist, be they musician or otherwise; fulfillment. It is in Mexico, at a wedding where our hardy Finns finally find peace and fulfillment, a receptive and appreciative audience, and the freedom to pursue their art without pressure to conform to some predetermined marketable standard. It is fitting that this moment shatters any notions of inherent or “natural” separation or otherness between different peoples or cultures. It rejects the idea that hierarchy and conformity are necessary for survival.

In the modern world, the post sword and castle world, communication is the leading edge of empire. The ability and extent to which one communicates one’s thoughts, ideas and agenda, whether overt or covert often determines the social power one wields.7 It takes a unique and flexible type of aesthetic and moral integrity to maintain a personal standard against the relentless thundering cataclysm of capital motivated music (or any other art for that matter). In other words; it’s easy to sell out, the rewards are many. Not so to retain ones integrity.



Now, having said all of that I’d like you to take a look at this.
-S.G.

Thanks for reading, see more obtuse film criticism at my Trappy nominated blog Lost Video Archive.

---------Notes---------
1. I.e. the Greek and Roman philosophical/political traditions from whom modern "Western" culture has inherited much of its worldview.

2. According to some people, there are others who disagree, but they’re not like us.

3. I feel safe saying this because of demographic statistics and because those of you who do not fit within my gross overgeneralization are being complimented in a roundabout way on the accident of your birth.

4. And, as some folks with special dietary preferences would point out in reference to the modern practice of factory agriculture; other species as well.

5. And Darwin’s was only one of several theories on evolution. Peter Kropotkin proposed a theory that relied on cooperation rather than Darwin’s competition.

6. An animated film based on the Harry Nilsson album of the same name in which the outcast boy Oblio had a round head, while everyone else had pointed heads. Somewhat the opposite of the Leningrad Cowboys, but you get my point.

7. Consider that in the current ongoing struggles in North Africa, opposition frequently communicates between themselves and the rest of the world through social media. The Mubarak in Egypt regime as we now know, shut down internet access in the country in order to prevent such communication. If no one hears your voice, are you actually speaking, do you even exist? We've long been aware that in U.S. elections the candidate who spends the most on advertising is the most likely to win. Did you know that there were 12 third party candidates in the 2008 presidential election? The numbers tell the story.