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Search Result for Catalog TR 324LP
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LP
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ITR 324LP
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LP version. "King Khan has scoured the earth to find the most rocking freaks of nature this side of the planet to form what he calls 'an all-star cream of the crop rock 'n' roll lifers association' aka Louder Than Death aka LTD: Looch Vibrato and Aggy Sonora (of the legendary Magnetix) on guitar and drums, and Fredovitch, the mighty organ surfer of the Shrines, throws out the keys and picks up the bass. King Khan assumes the position of frontman/lead shouter/effeminate cult leader (by choice). What is born is a maelstrom of pure unadulterated, unhinged, unbelievable rock 'n' roll baptized in the salty sea water of Bordeaux, France, waterboarded with the finest wines, choked with the smelliest cheeses, dipped into a vat of oysters, octopus and shrimp. This is not just a band, it's an orgy of the damned! King Khan summons the punk rock demons buried in his bodacious brown back side, lathers up the listeners in his mystical oils and leaves the audience thirsty, horny, riled up, ready to dance upon the apocalypse and punch it in the face all in one mighty fell swoop. King Khan on the other players: 'I once saw Looch Vibrato take a pair of glasses off someone's face and stick them in his mouth and crunch them into dust, all because he warned him not to drink a warm can of beer filled with his own piss. Aggy Sonora, is the love child of Peggy from the Gories and Anaïs Nin. She beats her drums as senselessly as sensually. The sound of lust and labor rammed into one mystical inauguration of the pleasure dome. Fredovitch (aka Freddie Rococco) was once mistaken for the son of Roky Erickson by Japanese music magazines. He is in fact a son of a gun and the greatest bass player since sliced brie. When he isn't playing bass he is conducting orchestras in his mind and preparing to take over the world of classical music. His motto is: 'you slap my bass, I'll slap yo' face...and fuck your mom.' Tired of the smoke and mirrors of the modern music world? Then trust in this Union of Lifers. They chose the path to enlighten lives with simple, pure, decadent ordering of chaos. They found the beat in the slow death of the human race, and they have come to save your uncool niece."
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LP
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FTR 324LP
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"In 1975, the critic Lester Bangs was seen moaning in the pages of Creem about the anti-emotionalism of the German band, Kraftwerk, and their whole concept of the man-machine. Skip ahead 43 years. Bangs is long dead, and the man-machine is thriving. As proof of this, one need look no further than the new Tarp LP, Part. Trapped inside its insanely lovely cover art (courtesy of Greta Svalberg), one finds the two hulking man-machines (Conrad Capistran and Joshua Burkett) attempting to figure out if it's okay for robots to hug each other in public. Right in the center of the highway, even. Heard in the most boorish way, the music on Part is all the work of unemotional man-machines (to use Bangs's moldy fig of a term). 'Anybody could play this stuff,' Chuck Berry fans will pout. But that's both untrue and beside the point. I mean a goddamn giraffe can play 'Johnny B. Goode' given a 30 minute head start. Music as subtle and fully communicative as the music on Part is a heavy conceptual lift. It occurs only after a lot of thought, a massive amount of jacking around, and about a ton of boo. One needs to be a committed freak to pull off such an elegant space-hack as this. But, of course Conrad and Joshua are lifers not dilettantes. Tarp is what they do. And no one could do it better. Their previous eponymous LPs (FTR 117, FTR 323) have been dandy, but Part is a real push into new areas of the void that amplify the duo's kosmiche wing beats. You can hear little pieces of the millions of records these guys have heard poking up now and then, but the way these elements are collaged into the whole is absolutely unique, absolutely Tarp. And not the mere burps of some man-machines. Roll over Lester Bangs, and tell Chuck Berry the news." -Byron Coley, 2018. Edition of 300.
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LP+CD
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TR 324LP
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2021 restock; LP version. Includes CD. In 2008, Robert Forster, one of Australia's most respected singer-songwriters, released The Evangelist, a work that was widely regarded as his best solo album; it more than lived up to the many high points of his legendary band The Go-Betweens. In 2015, seven years after that album, fans and critics alike may wonder what's been doing since. Quite a lot, as it turns out. Producer for acclaimed albums by Brisbane bands The John Steel Singers and Halfway. An extended stint as a music critic for the Australian periodical The Monthly that was so well received that a collection of his writings was published as The Ten Rules of Rock and Roll in 2009, and was reprinted in revised and updated form in 2011. Curator and compiler of G Stands for Go-Betweens: The Go-Betweens Anthology Volume 1 (2015), the first of three lavish box-set compilations charting the career of the iconic Australian band of which he was founding member, singer, and songwriter. Still, seven years is a long time, musically speaking. Time for writing songs, time for gathering musicians, time for preparing a refreshed creative direction that took shape as Songs to Play. Ten very different Robert Forster songs recorded on a mountaintop half an hour from his Brisbane home, in an analog studio, with a troop of young musicians: talented multi-instrumentalists Scott Bromley and Luke McDonald (from The John Steel Singers), Matt Piele (drummer from Forster's touring band), and violinist and singer Karin Bäumler. The resultant album is really like nothing he's ever done before, although it retains many of the qualities listeners know from his songwriting. His work remains highly melodic, with incisive, witty lyrics attuned to real people and real lives. The surprise is in the spirit of the record, its sense of adventure and fun -- especially after the meditative reflections of The Evangelist (recorded a year after the death of The Go-Betweens co-founder Grant McLennan). Seven years have brought a bolder, wilder approach to sound, and a set of truly inspiring compositions. Pop songs. Five minute epics. A bossa nova tune. Singer-songwriter classics. Experimental, detailed production assistance from Bromley and McDonald. It's no wonder that, from the album's opening lines on the super-charged "Learn to Burn," Forster is bursting to get out and tell his story. Seven years in the making. And worth every minute.
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