About Us

There is a good chance you found us accidentally by using the word “taint” in your search (If you found us on purpose, you deserve our accolades). Of course we don’t know what you were looking for, but you stumbled on a damn cool project. Look around; let us help send you on a musical journey. Here you will find a number of album reviews from the strange and extreme to the tame and mainstream. Our reviewers are a bunch of obsessive miscreants. Most of us are avid music collectors and have been involved in the music world for decades. A couple of us have been in or are still in bands.

There are no rules on Tickle Your Taint Blog. Our reviewers might make you laugh, or piss you off; both results are legitimate. One reviewer might write a glowing review of an album another might tear it apart. We may end up adopting a single review system, such as five stars, or each reviewer may use his own or none at all. We may have a new review every week or we could end up with one every six months. This blog exists as a social experiment to build community among a diverse group of music maniacs – our reviewers and hopefully you. Pull down your knickers, lube up and join us in tickling yours and our taints.

If you are in a band, have released a physical (rather than an MP3) CD or record, and would like us to review your efforts, contact us at tickleyourtaint@yahoo.com

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Nova Mob, Nova Mob (Restless, 1994)

By Null

Lately, I have been revisiting a lot of older records. Part of the reason for this is because when it comes to rock music these days, the bottom line is Pro-Tools and the “loudness wars.” I cannot 
fucking take it anymore.

In regard to making a record, there are those who write songs and play instruments—I am referring to the band. However, there is always another member who plays a big part. This person is the producer, or engineer, who determines the production value of the recording. In essence, the “production” is an additional key component of the group. Every record contains this “invisible” aspect. These days, I have a real hard time distinguishing between rock bands. Sure, the singer’s voice can often que me in, but aren’t these different singers backed up by the same homogeneous band? I believe they are called “The Protool, No Dynamic, Loud As Fuckers Band.” They make almost every record indistinguishable. This was not always the case.

Fuck man, Glen Campbell played on half the songs that were ever recorded in the world, and you wouldn’t even know that if I didn’t tell you. Yeah, Motörhead sounds like a fucking sandstorm, but they sound that way regardless of how they were recorded. It was intentional. I can pick out the difference between instruments on an old Motörhead recording better than I can on any loud-as-fuck fest I have heard these days.

t is not that I am just a grumpy old man, which, of course, I am. It is the fact that digital music is cold and dead. Analog music is warm and alive. It’s science. For instance, take Rise Against, they have good lefty politics, they are good song-writers, and they seem to be good guys. Previously, I had never bought any of their albums because of the sound—the production. However, I picked up End Game a few weeks ago and thought maybe I could get into the album if I just familiarized myself with the sound after repeated listenings. I like the record, but I just couldn’t get past the production. It makes me sad.

While I was driving around rockin’ my new Rise Against album, I stopped at a bookstore in town that has a lot of used CDs, just to try my luck. I was fortunate as I found Nova Mob’s second album. Considering I am a huge Hüsker Dü fan, and that Grant Hart died recently, I was excited to pick it up. As soon as I got back into my car, I threw it into my CD player. Instantly, I noticed that the mix sounded weird. The vocals seemed buried. It was a bit tinny. The bass was muffled. There was also some tape hiss.

It was like a breath of fresh air.

It sounded fucking great. Almost like a real band, with real people, making human mistakes, which often result in making great records. I could actually distinguish the two guitars from each other. What’s that, a bass?

I was floating in paradise. I drifted through the band rehearsal space in somebody’s garage, ya know, the place where music is made. The carpet was stained from spilt beer and flipped ashtrays. There were busted drumsticks on the floor with broken guitar strings coiled around them like snakes from some underground punk rock world. There was sweat. And blood. There was also space. And air. The sky was clear, and I could sense something real.

In this paradise, there is sadness for the current state of record making. I wish Rise Against would visit this place, where their music and their words would be heard; where a guitar and bass complement each other, instead of sounding like one indistinguishable beastly instrument; where they could be heard and seen. It is a place where I could distinguish them from the Foo Fighters.

Nova Mob sustained this paradise for the next 53 minutes.

Nova Mob’s second album has horns, and acoustic numbers, and straight-ahead rockers. It grows on you over time, and the songs lend themselves to emotional interpretations of all colors and hues. At least, that is what it did to me. It felt like going home. Don’t fear the tape hiss. We don’t need to be saved from our imperfections.

Sunday, February 4, 2018

“Fast” Eddie Clarke (1950-2018)

With the death of Fast Eddie, the last original/core member of Motörhead is dead. And while it may end up being an unpopular opinion, with the death of Motörhead, and the much earlier death of the Ramones, rock ‘n’ roll is now dead. Everything else is just imitation, really good imitation.

In the late 1970s and early ‘80s, Motörhead scared me. Heck, I was young. They seemed dangerous. In photos in rock magazines, if they were smiling, it seemed to be sinister. Nevertheless, I was drawn to them, partly due curiosity. Once I heard their music, I became obsessed. My neighbor was much older and immersed in heavier music. We would listen to records in his room. Some of our favorites were Motörhead’s Overkill (1979), Bomber (1979), Ace of Spaces (1980), and Iron Fist (1982). Hearing these records was better than going to school. It served as an education in rock. We spent afternoons headbanging. The assault of drums, bass, and guitar was the perfect storm. Lemmy obviously kicked ass, but I also loved how Eddie’s guitar punctuated key parts in songs, adding power to the rumbling bass, and how he played quick solos on the side. For me, Motörhead was the perfect distillation of all things rock ‘n’ roll, and “Fast” Eddie proudly served, making his mark.


I became a big fan of Motörhead through the band’s last, and longest, line up. This is the Lemmy, Phil Campbell, and Mickey Dee line up. I was introduced to the earlier and classic period of Motörhead through the Stone Deaf Forever box set. “Fast” Eddie Clarke played on many of Motörhead’s most famous songs. He kept up the pace and left skid marks all over Motörhead’s history. Well done, Eddie. Well done.

Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Jon “The Wizard” Rossi (1991-2017)

By AntiChrist-iansen

It has now been a couple months since the passing of Jon “The Wizard” Rossi of Pilgrim, which hit me pretty hard this past fall. As always, hearing the death call of a talented artist who’s affected you in any way is distressing, but I find it even more so when they are so young with a brilliant future on the horizon.

If you’re unfamiliar with Jon Rossi, I will introduce you to the formidable Pilgrim. ‘Twas the year of our lord 2012 and the upswing of this mighty wave of Doom Metal we are currently enduring careened. Along with other contemporary mainstays such as Pallbearer, Magic Circle, Windhand, Conan, and Bell Witch, Pilgrim released their debut full-length to the world. (This year also marked the return of Saint Vitus after a 17-year hibernation.) Not that doom wasn’t well documented before—it most certainly was—but 2011/2012 is when it seemed to break outside of the exclusivity of D&D circles and stoner dorks. Now you could read about it in Decibel and on Pitchfork! Though the genre began to saturate, Pilgrim, for me, maintained a position within the cream of the crop. Their brand was traditional and true-to-form, recalling the likes of Reverend Bizarre, Cathedral, Pagan Altar, Pentagram, Witchfinder General, etc., but they weren’t a mere homage, their shit was as real as it gets. Their riffs would rumble the most miserable of souls, blanketing anyone in earshot in unrelenting sorrow. And it was all thanks to Jon. Sure, Pilgrim was a band, but “The Wizard” was the backbone and driving force, writing all of the music and lyrics. I can’t fathom they’ll continue without him. Rossi was a mere 20 years old when Misery Wizard was released on Metal Blade Records. By age 22, he had released the second album II: Void Worship and embarked on a major 31-date U.S. tour with the reunited stoner doom legends Spirit Caravan, featuring one the most legendary guitarists/vocalists in the business, Scott “Wino” Weinrich (Saint Vitus/The Obsessed).

Thankfully, I was able to see that tour when it came through my hometown, and the bands played in a dive with local heavyweights Eagle Twin (Southern Lord Records) and Dwellers (Small Stone Records) to boot. There may have only been a score of us long-hairs that showed, but boy was it a night to remember. It’s been a few years now, but the main takeaways were that 1. Wino whipped out a giant carafe of wine from behind his speaker cabinet during his set, knifed it open and took a couple swigs before passing it around the crowd to everyone’s delight; and 2. the live presence of Jon Rossi and Pilgrim on stage. They had this aura about them—these very young, yet rugged and balding doom geeks commanded immediate respect with their unyielding maturity in sound. The set began with a brief announcement of apology that all band members were suffering from flu-like symptoms and that what may follow may not be their best. But without further delay, contrarily ripped into what could only be described as an absolute stellar performance. The sore rasp in his whispering preface gave no hint at his sure and serene vocalizing to follow—he gave every ounce to our measly turnout, and assuredly made believers out of us all that night. Afterwards we briefly met, I thanked him, not much more unfortunately, but he was humble and genuine. I could tell he would have liked to continue to converse, had his voice not been shot. And after hearing the outcry of personal stories from many of my friends and acquaintances from around the country after his death, I can’t help but feel a bit envious not knowing him more closely. It was obvious what he and his music meant to so many.

If you have any appreciation of doom metal or just heavy music in general, you can appreciate what Pilgrim had to offer. And I mean “heavy” in every sense of the word. Yes, it is generally loud, but it is also heavy, as in, that it bears weight on your being. Even at his young age of 26, Rossi understood and communicated the sound and language of doom unlike many others, and I will forever keep his tunes in my rotation. As it states in the liner notes of Misery Wizard—their music “...is no place for a hobbit.” I implore you to keep his legacy alive and dig into their records. Hail The Pilgrim. Hail The Wizard. May he rest in peace.

Woefully yours.

Listen here:

For a deeper look, you can hear some demos and practice recordings of some older as well as newer unreleased tunes here: