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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 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.


Monday, December 24, 2018

Festivus Grievances 2018

Festivus Grievances 2018

Below a few of the taint ticklers share their musical grievances for the year.

Anita Papsmear:
Same grievance as last year. See https://tickleyourtaint.blogspot.com/2017/12/festivus-grievances-2017.html.


Dale M.:

Jimmy Explosive Diarrhea told me Trouble was going to be playing in Eugene, Oregon, this past summer. While looking for information on the show, I noticed the other acts (bands) were hip hop, r&b, or whatever and it didn’t make sense to me that Trouble would be on tour with this lineup. But then again, why did Megadeth tour with the Scorpions, or why are they going on tour with Ozzy? After further investigation there is a rapper named Trouble, and Trouble, the metal band, didn’t have a 2018 tour scheduled. For the record (no pun intended), I gave Trouble (the rapper) a listen to make sure I wasn’t missing something amazing—not my cup of coffee. Potential crisis averted, no tickets purchased or time off taken for the show.  

So what is the problem? You maybe asking yourself. Allow me to answer. First, unrelated to the story, what is up with Megadeth’s tour choices. Second, when I see Trouble on tour, I am going to have to do a shit load of research whether or not it is the metal Trouble playing shows. I am sure on the flip side, some Trouble hip hop fan went to a metal show and is in the same position I am in. Last, I was truly stoked about going only to have my spirit crushed. Thanks Jimmy.


Five-Inch Taint:
Overall, 2018 was a pretty decent year for music—for me, at least. Between buying hundreds of CDs and attending quite a few shows, I should have more grievances than I do.

A major grievance is the rapid and significant decline in the quality of music created by Daniel Romano. Just 4 or 5 years ago, he was making some incredible honky-tonk. His follow up album was a less-than impressive attempt to create Bob Dylan-esque music. His latest record, Finally Free, is just god-awful. I received a promo copy thanks to the fellows at the local record store. Eager to hear whether or not he redeemed himself I put it in my CD player, leading to instant regret. As I relayed to SoDak, even though the CD was free to me I still felt ripped off. Reflecting on the title, Finally Free, I could not but help think about Marx’s notion of “free” in a double-sense: it was a free copy and I am now free from listening to any more of Daniel Romano’s dreck.

Perhaps the biggest grievance of the year was while SoDak, PaulySure, and I were in Las Vegas for the 2018 edition of Psycho Vegas. Overall, the actual festival was pretty good. Not as strong as the past few years, but no major complaints that would end up on grievance list. What really grinded my gears happened at a hippy-dippy vegan restaurant. As we were enjoying our overpriced, yet tasty, vegan meals, a severely misguided man rolled into the restaurant with guitar in hand and supporters in tow. Accompanied by a laptop and the delusions of his friends, this weird spiritual bastard proceeded to play the worst music known to man. At first, it was a mild annoyance. However, when this shit-hawk began to butcher a Tom Petty song, I was pissed. Once he finished, he even had the gall to say that Tom Petty, “wherever he was,” would be proud. Are you fucking kidding me? I wasn’t sure who to be mad at. This man with obviously no talent (yet he still had CDs of his own music for sale) or his friends who cheered him on. After twenty minutes we all decided to leave. Upon exiting, for the first time in my life, I felt shame for being vegan. Why do people like this exist? Why are most of them hippy-dippy, spiritual, vegan types. Why didn’t I grab his guitar and smash it over his stupid face? His performance will forever haunt me.

Finally, I have to report my annual grievance with Null. First, I have to say, I love Null. He is a wonderful person whose excitement and enthusiasm are infectious. Additionally, he is one of the most genuine people I know. As a music lover he is always open to recommendations. When you get it just right, he knows just how to show his appreciation. Well, this year, I found out that SoDak had been recommending some great music to Null. After finally listening to the music, Null would call up SoDak, and immediately say, “I want to suck your dick,” to demonstrate his appreciation. Well, I’ve recommended music to Null and have yet to receive any proposition. What’s up with what, Null? I have a dick. It wants to be sucked. Why don’t I get the same appreciation? In the words of Danzig, “motherfucker, you suck dick.”


Jimmy “Explosive Diarrhea” B:
Iron Maiden beers: I recently tried two different Iron Maiden beers. They are terrible. At $9.00 per bottle, I expected amazing ale. It is not the worst beer I have ever poured down my throat, but it is in the bottom ten percent. I had the Megadeth beer at the L.A. Decibel Metal Fest; it is significantly better than Iron Maiden’s brew. I never thought I would pan Iron Maiden in favor of anything Megadeth. The fact that I am doing exactly that grinds my gears.

Pat Metheny at Revolution Hall, Portland, Oregon: Portland doesn’t get many jazz concerts, so I have to take advantage of any jazzsters that make the trip. I like some of Metheny’s albums, but live he may be the most boring guitar player I have seen. His tone is perfect, and his playing is blemish free. Two hours of non-varying tone, pace, and playing is excruciating to sit through—never again!

Pat Metheny fans: I have a lot in common with fans of jazz, but Metheny’s fans are loyal to a fault, they are downright rabid. They went fucking ape shit over the most boring of guitar parts at the Portland show. All I could think about was making an escape or how I was going to stay awake, and these people were wearing themselves out coming up with phrases of praise to yell at Pat every time my eyes closed. Fuckers!

Low: Against SoDak’s advice, I bought the new Low album, Double Negative. I have tried three times to listen to it and have yet to make it past the first three songs. I like experimental music, but when it becomes unlistenable I get pissed off. I feel like Low fucked me. I haven’t been this irritated by a band/performer since Iron and Wine started playing rock. 

Tom Araya: What the hell is going on with Tom Araya? Has he always been a neo-fascist? It seems that his love of Trump forced him into a position opposed by most of his fans. Luckily Gary Holt is there to support us. Holt and Araya have been throwing barbs at each over some of the stupid shit Araya has been saying over the past two years. The realization that Araya has become one of the conservative dill-holes that metal has been scaring since the early 80s came just in time for Slayer’s retirement. I feel bad that the money machine is drying up for Holt, but if Slayer were to continue, I would suggest those of us who care about democracy engage in a boycott of all things Slayer.

Me: During the past year, I have initiated two writing projects with two Taint Ticklers, Plainzero and Class Warrior. I have not yet followed through. I will; I promise.


Null:
1. Digital Music sucks. Virtual albums suck. Music streaming sites suck. The convenience and “opportunities” that streaming sites provide only pigeon-hole the listener into a genre filled nightmare of sameness and people lap it up like dogs guzzling anti-freeze. Fools.

2. Listening to MP3s is equivalent to breaking wine glasses against one’s ear drum. Every year fewer people can distinguish the difference. Music sounds better blaring from an AM radio station with one speaker. I’m not joking.

3. Limited CD Runs. If something comes out on CD, and you are interested in getting your hands on it, then you’d better pick it up. With vinyl and digital streaming dominating the music world, labels are beginning to only print a limited small number of CDs, if they print any at all. When Bad Religion, a band I love, recently remastered some of their mid-nineties records, they only released the first one, Stranger than Fiction, on CD. They didn’t even bother to release the following two albums on said format. This makes little sense considering that the first run of Stranger than Fictionsold out. I mean, I love that they are re-releasing the albums on vinyl, but why not CD? It is a bad business model, and it is cruel to old men, like me, who gain an unmeasurable amount of joy from popping a CD in my car while navigating the world around me. 

4. Missing record stores. The only place I find record stores these days is on the side of milk cartons. Where do music nerds gather? The exception, of course, is Salt Lake City, Utah, and Portland, Oregon. They both have some kick-ass record stores. My town is a music store desert.


PaulySure:
While this year brought about a few headaches, like the new Sleep record being delayed in shipping from the label and disappointments, like the fact that Nile Rodgers should have never put out a new Chic record (seriously there is only one good track, and Chic was at one time amazing, seriously wtf is up with the rest of this record). I feel like my grievances are fairly minimal, but the three that I can think of were pretty significant. 

My first grievance, and one that I will make pretty quick as I am tired of talking about it, is that the record store location that I work at is closing…temporarily. The issue here is that we inherited a new landlord around the beginning of the year, and he wants something more high end in the building. He dodged our initial attempts trying to resign a lease, and when he finally did get back to us, saying he would only sign us for six more months. We later found out that he was trying to get another fucking Starbucks in the building, and they ended up declining. He also more than doubled rent. The new price is far higher than what the building itself is worth. While having to explain the move to customers has gotten old, and waiting to figure out what the future holds for the store, all of this has added more stress to me. Nevertheless, the biggest issue here is the loss of the building. We have been on the block for 33 years, and now greed and University gentrification is forcing us to move. I’m losing the place that was my sanctuary throughout high school, my entertainment in college, and the place I have spent more waking hours at than my own home for the last several years. It just fucking sucks.

Second grievance is that FYF fest 2018 got cancelled due to low ticket sales. While a lot of the younger generation seemed to think the line up was lame (sorry for the lack of bullshit soundcloud mumble rappers), I disagree. It was so full of bucket list bands for me, bands like: Curtis Harding, Nils Frahm, Protomartyr, Youth Code, My Bloody Valentine, and more (and sure, I would have caught Janet Jackson while I was at it). This is where I realized, I might be getting old. 

Lastly the grievance that has become the most comical in the long run, but was the most painful at the time, occurred in Vegas. After having gone on a great hike with SoDak and Five-Inch Taint, we stopped by Panacea for some breakfast/brunch/lunch. We split an order of the nachos, and I ordered the CBD Pancakes (they were pretty magical, and helped relieve a lot of the aches my legs were feeling after having been through two days of Psycho Las Vegas, and a hike). All seemed to be going quite well, a nice quaint restaurant, an additional friend coming to join us, good conversation, and pretty solid food. All that was great in the place, quickly turned into a nightmare. There were quite a few New Age hippie bros wearing board shorts and reef sandals just kind of loitering, one of them suddenly started setting up a chair and a table, brought out a guitar, and placed unlit candles at his feet. While I usually enjoy some live music with my meal, I could already tell this was going downhill. This Trevor Hall/Xavier Rudd/Citizen Cope wannabe motherfucker started playing, and fuck it was bad. Bad original songs, bad covers, bad friends. When he played “Black Bird” by The Beatles, it made me want to cut off both my ears, and gouge out my eyes for some reason. But when he covered Tom Petty, things somehow got worse. His dumbass, false granola dipshit, brain dead friends, all gave him remarks that “Tom would be proud,” and that “Tom was here right now.” Seriously!??!??! I’m not a violent person, but I wanted to end the lives of everyone in the restaurant, including my own, for having to sit through that abortion of a cover—and to kill his friends twice for trying to be supportive. The musician in question would frequently say things like “you guys are the best” and “you guys are love.” Frankly, I’m shocked I didn’t hear a “Namaste.” Not long after that cover, we decided that standing outside in the heat was better than nice air conditioning and shitty music. We even tried to steer other people making their way towards the restaurant away from that form of audible torture. The only highlight we could hear from outside later was a sing-a-long that went “Iowaska, Iowaska” (fucking fake drug riddled trust fund hippies). I guess the moral of the story is, if you are in Vegas and plan to eat at Panacea, think twice; mostly just run the fuck away if there is a “musician present.” Or just go eat at The Modern Vegan instead. And if you must catch local live music, catch Gold Top Bob at the Double Down Saloon (“What a night what a town”).


Scotty Doesn’t Know:
Audiophiles


SoDak:
Legacy of Dysfunction—Poison Idea (2017).
A couple years ago, I saw the trailer for this documentary and was very excited to see it, as I have always loved the ferocious energy of the band. Additionally, I figured that a film exploring the history of the band would be fascinating. Unfortunately, this film is sloppy, disorganized, and a disaster. It is a huge disappointment, as it seems that the filmmaker had the material to make an interesting film.

Peter Hook and the Light Concert (2018).
On this tour, Peter Hook was playing the Substance records by his previous bands Joy Division and New Order. It was a night of two sets. The show started with the New Order songs. A programmed computer blew Peter Hook and the Light off the stage, and the computer fucking sucked. I contemplated leaving, as the lack of performance was unbelievably boring. During several songs, the computer played the beats, while the musicians simply waited for the rare moments where they would play for a few seconds. Vocal parts were uninspired and sparse within the programmed songs. In general, I appreciate New Order songs. I am not opposed to the use of programmed elements within music, so long as it complements the rest of the music. But when it stands in for the songs themselves, I quickly lose interest. I thought the band would provide the main focus of the songs, but they were ancillary at best. They did not seem interested. They stood there—sat there in the case of the drummer—waiting for moments within the program. It was painful to witness this lack of a performance. They managed to ruin these songs. Fortunately, the second set, focused on Joy Division songs, actually involved a band playing songs.

Indigo Girls Concert (2018).
When I was much younger, I liked the first three Indigo Girls records. In 1990, I saw them perform in support of their Nomads Indians Saints record. It was an outstanding concert. Admittedly, I did not keep up with their music following this concert, as I had lost interest for some reason, even though I appreciate them and their general politics on various issues. This summer, my wife indicated that she wanted to finally see them play. Despite disliking the wine-and-cheese crowd that attends concerts in the botanic gardens, I thought the show would be interesting. Not sure if Emily Sailers was sick or had an off night, or if she is losing voice. She sounded horrible, as she could not hold notes and was not in tune. It was a sad experience. I hope that the vocal issues are not permanent.

Amanda Shires, To the Sunset (2018).
Amanda Shires is a very talented musician. I loved her performances with her earlier band Thrift Store Cowboys. She has a good voice, especially when she sings with Rod Picott or her husband Jason Isbell. But for some reason, her solo records are very underwhelming—at best. This year she released To the Sunset, which is atrocious musically. Additionally, it has a horrible record cover. What the fuck?

Low, Double Negative (2018).
Low took a shit, and critics are behaving like dogs who roll in the stinky mess. Programming and noises dominant the record, destroying any songs that are present. The record is generally unlistenable. This a major disappointment. 

Filming Concerts with Phones.
This past year, at several shows, I sat next to people who filmed almost the entire concert with their phones. They sat there holding their phones up, watching the show through the screen. Of course, this is incredibly distracting to anyone sitting next to these people. What is especially confounding to me is that at these shows, we did not have good seats. The image on the screen was simply flashing lights, so the musicians were not even visible. Crazy. 

Shithead Hippie Playing Music in the Vegan Restaurant in Las Vegas.
After a hike in Red Rock Canyon, before heading to the festivities associated with Psycho Vegas, PaulySure, Five-Inch Taint, and I stopped at a vegan restaurant. Trouble was in the air, as a young hippie set up to play guitar, and his group of friends and family members sat down to support him. We were subjected to an endless series of horrible songs, which served as a torture device. I mistakenly listened to some of his bullshit religious, spiritual lyrics, which proposed that we get what we deserve in life. Obviously, this is false, as there was no one present to smash his guitar over his head and to strangle him with the guitar strings. The experience deteriorated as he proceeded to play horrible cover versions of Tom Petty and Moody Blues songs. I contemplating ending my own life to escape the misery he was inflicting on us. 

3 comments:

  1. I love that no less than three of you put the awful Las Vegas hippie on your grievance list. Now I wish I had written about this, even though I was a couple thousand miles away.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Five Inch-Taint,
    You need to recommend some good music, if you want your dick sucked, that is.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Scotty doesn't know, I am crushed at your dislike of audiophiles. Hmmm, I bet my crushing would sound delightful in hi-fidelity stereophonic.

    ReplyDelete