relationship of command

I have been totally thrashing this album for the last few days, in-between mainlining Southern Lord and in the spirit of blog-or-crawl-up-and-snivel, I’m blogging it. Did I miss At the Drive-In the first time around? It seems kinda improbable, because I was living with at least one person whose idea of a dirty weekend was coming home with pre-releases of Sub Pop, and seemed to always know the next cool band months before anyone else, pulling vinyl Mudhoney out of a brown paper bag … oh selective memory …

But now, Relationship of Command is just a phenomenal album, I’ve played it at least four times today, and I’m fucking screaming. I love it when music does that to me, it sometimes seems like that’s the thing you do when you’re fifteen and then, I dunno, get mature or something, and lose the whole, “So what are you listening to?” record collection friendships. How did I miss this band? Anyway if you see me walking around, grab one of my headphones (of my amazing dropped-from-1.5-meters-bouncing-iPod which I fixed the then busted scroll wheel by dropping it the opposite way) and scream along. I hope music never stops doing this to me.

burning churches – the spirit of christmas

rrraaaaghgghghgghhhhh!!!! etc.

Sunday afternoon, plusplus destruction of language followed by the invention of the Hexadecimal Kickdrum (successor to the Double and Triple Kickdrums, and friend of ∞-n Kickdrum), followed by two-part harmonies of Morbid Angel (more like haaaargh!monies :snort:) … “Ghouls attack the church / Crush the holy priest”. No satanic pigeon squads of bedlam though. Cheese? Of course! (Ghouls! Attract the cheese!). Hello? Hello? GHRAGH!! Yes, afternoon tea with Emile.

So it was a big waah! moment today when Southern Lord Records said “see all our music online now!“, as in Sunn 0))), Abruptum, Urgehal (as in satanic Norwegian black metal), 80s thrash-metal crossover punks Clown Alley, Boris, Khanate, and Goatsnake! It’s like a Southern Lord compilation album free to download now. 29 tracks. Drool. Slurp. My iPod’s going to take a beating later.