Posts Tagged ‘record’


Friday, December 18th, 2009

I have every record anyone’s ever given me–EVERY RECORD. In fact–I rarely buy records, so nearly every record I own is an object of sentimentality. Santa brought me these three noise ragers on my third Christmas.

They were tucked into a Sesame Street 7″ case and were part of a suite of gifts that included my first turntable–also a product of the Children’s Television Workshop. I loved these records–always preferring them to my Disney Soundtracks, Hokey Pokey albums and holiday-specific superhero audiocomics. In the canon of children’s recordings, these noise records perhaps only eventually took a backseat to Frog & Toad and Why Mosquitoes Buzz In People’s Ears.

The fact that I loved them so was perplexing to my mom–who JUST. WANTED. A NORMAL. CHILD–a boy who’d sing along to normal music–communing with his peers thru song. Fate, however–rarely one to subscribe to the hopes and dreams of mothers–blessed her womb with a hellion who’d scream his entire life away in tongues of industry, zoology and appliances.

noises volume 1
noises volume 2
noises volume 3


Monday, February 4th, 2008

Rita does lots of the right sort of wrong. Everything she does is haunted. She and Dave gave me this 12″ years ago at a performance she did at Roulette–her shadow-puppet show.

I’ve looked around for info on this, but it’s pretty scarce. Part of the purpose of this blog is to make sure that things that’ve made their way into my hands and inspired me in one way or another find a way of persisting. So many people I know have made so many beautiful things–things that I always fear will just be forgotten–the problem being, not that people don’t care or don’t pay attention, but that there are some people who just produce so much in so many mediums–that no one can really keep tabs on all of it. It’s not really a problem at all, per se. I guess it’s just more of an archivist’s nightmare.

Rita’s a great example of that. Somewhere I have a trading card she gave me for this band, Fuzzy Peach, that she, Dave and ChloĆ« had going for a minute–literally, a minute–almost. That’s how a lot of people around here work. Do something. Strengthen it. Make it cohesive. Give it a context. Let it end and make something new. Rita’s never let her work stagnate.

So, this 12″… The jacket is hand-built–two edges taped with strapping tape. The front and back covers are smeared with thick, crimson globs of fingerpainted acrylic–much like the accents in many of Rita’s iconic paintings of fast girls and Marlboro men. The gatefold is a xeroxed pop-up assemblage. The record is translucent red vinyl. It’s got tracks and a red label with Rita’s fingerprint pressed onto it on one side and an etching of a bird and a girl with “FOREVER” radiating out from her third-eye on the other. The catalog number is E#100/CARNAGE PRESS.

The tracks get back to that haunting thing. The source is just cassette recorded cut-up vocalizations–Hungarian wherever there are discernible words–lullaby-for-Rosemarie’s-Baby jams. There are intermittent flickers of organ slicing thru the whispers, but they’re generally snuffed out by abrupt cassette-clicks. It’s hands-down, one of my favorite objects. This record basically doesn’t exist. I think fewer than 100 were made.