Farmer's got a Brand New Bag

Hey Eleanor Throckmorton:

How's it rubbing? I remember striking a pose on the edge of some soft-bodied clam, or maybe it was a crawfish, up in the building pattern office. Remember? They had blueprints strapped to all the walls except that they were orange. Fuckin' weird, is what you said, before that dude with the too-tight bowtie came charging through the door and tackled you, trying to knock you out the window.

That was a close one, no?

I was thinking about that for the past few days as I was subsumed beneath this dmusic thing. It's too bad you hit your head so hard on the glass, you'd probably enjoy this place if you still had a grip on your faculties. So while struggling with this I decided it's time I point you to some of the real heroes over there. Those would be the ones who actually light up when you plug them in.

Blubat, for instance. The first thing you'll trip over when you wander into their hemisphere is an oblong Farmer's Bag. I think you're supposed to refrigerate that, or at least keep it out of the reach of childrens. You might recall one of the times when we used some external source material in liu of lyrics. I, of course, don't remember that. But you might. If you had a faculty. At any rate, this particular song, about the Bag, is like that. Sort of.

Later you can find a different twist on the monkeysphere. A tune called Lovic, a mellowness wrapped in ethereal, erm, candypaperbobbleheads. Or something. (Granted, for whatever reason I can't stream that fucker now, but what the hey. I remember it, that's the cool thing about heads and ears.) This thing moves the trance from the back of your memory, where you left it back around the time we were doing that Slinkyhead stuff, and right into your foreground, your frontal field, your comfort position. Just hear those percussive percussives, and that blowing bottle (if that ain't a blowing bottle I don't know what is, except I'm fer sure we used one on that Slinkyhead thing,) and then there's that thing what sounds like a single-note chord organ. Aaaah.

Don't forget to steer yourself back into the territory of the absurd, with Dicin' up the Rug. There's a Jaw Harp! And a thing that sounds a lot like one of the stringed instruments YOU'D pretend to be playing. Eleanor, you drippy bitch.

I'd love for you to listen to every one of the songs there, okay? Just, okay? Is that? C'mon, stupid, it's not that hard. Anyway, at the very least check out A Song for the Sickness, which is a very sparse and zoned-for-packaging instrumental with some creepy, way-back-in-the-back sounding rumbly stuff going on in my right ear. Of course I usually have shit plugged in backwards so it might come out above you. How the fuck should I know? There's also a remix of that thing by some other guys over there, but personally I have it in for the original. It's got something that helps my cramps.

Give those guys plenty of your aural behoofment, but then also, at some point, find Twinkiebots, okay? Be sure you stick Cracks in the Fairytale into your pipe and lick it. It's a twisted piece of something, though clean and well-paced. You'll think you've just inundated the fluxus, Eleanor. Really.

Some other goodies (though listen to 'em all!): Something Beautiful, I Held Her All Night. (These guys have some serious post-beatles/beatlesque/whatchymutchit stuff goin' on.)

Alrighty now. You'd better get your ball on the act, there, spendows. I've found some other stuff there, too, but you need to get on the ball and do some homework before I fill ya in.