Listening to the opener’s clean meld of delay and harmonics, picturing a time when Dustin Knight could frequently be found covering GG Allin’s “Bite It You Scum” in nothing but his socks can be somewhat difficult, but by the track’s distortion-caked conclusion, it makes sense. With songs ranging anywhere from a few years to a few hours in age, there’s a glimpse of nearly every outfit donned by the queen throughout the course of her ramshackle reign, from mumbled pop to fretboard catharsis, with more than a few telling glances toward the future. Edition of 50. $5 + shipping.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Before its untimely demise, Night 1980 was described as having “too many jangly, shaky things” by a young man waiting to watch the metal band scheduled to play after them at the local New Year’s Eve show. At a later gig, the various tambourines that they dispersed throughout the audience before their set were credited with lifting the spirits of a crowd still shaken by the lead singer of the previous band’s threat to “hit someone in the fucking face with this mic stand if you all don’t start moving.” Now, with the remixed reissue of their only album, originally released on Halloween, 2009, the potential to grow mildly annoyed, receive a spiritual lift, or remain unmoved either way is all yours. A (mostly) jubilant noise to bust a piñata or smear paint on the face of a loved one to. Edition of 50 with hand-collaged covers. $5 + shipping.
Sometimes all it takes is a bit of willpower and a decrepit Yamaha keyboard. The midnight murk of these pop yarns is home to a slew of gracelessly aging characters held stagnant by the dust-ridden romanticism of glory days, and they just might get a fish story or two in before they’re swallowed up by a wash of synthesized strings. The road to Sun City is a long one, dear friends, but the traveling doesn’t have to be so lonely. Edition of 50 with cutout covers. $5 + shipping.
"Crowded Nest Syndrome" (Bevo Francis) by Tent Revivalist
A rural paradise of hermits, televangelists, and gator-filled swimming pools as surveyed through prescription-strength beer goggles. Granddad may have cranked some Kershaw on the drive out to the V.F.W. hall, but this is what he was humming to whoever would listen as he limped back home. Concise solo numbers on the A-side, looser full-band renditions on the B-side. “Come tornadoes or zombies, the world might end, but at least I’ll know I died where I belong.” Indeed. Edition of 50. $5 + shipping.
"All Over But The Crying" (Bloody Ridge Rum Runners) by Tent Revivalist) by Tent Revivalist