Nineteenth, nineteenth century witch hunt,
Supergroups have a tendency to suck hard, or at least have something artificial and unwanted about them. Witch doesn’t. Witch is a supergroup of humble mid-western 90’s indies. Witch is a supergroup made not to leverage celebrity into super-fame, but to quench the thirst for musical violence of its super-members.
Violence isn’t intrinsequely reprehensible. Harm is. Witch hits you in the face with such violence, you can’t feel anything for a while. Like good speed. No more pain, no more problem. “1000 MpH, living on volume and burning rubber”. Motorhead meets Kyuss, they swap bikes and go for a ride with the devil. That’s the madness of Witch.
The execution of this by-the-book stoner metal paroxism is so perfect, you won’t be able to go back to normal-groups easily.
Eighteenth, I am eighteenth.
I suppose the mp3 killed a lot of things (Neil Young’s eardrums for example) but to me, the iPod and its shuffle mode was the real problem. Being able to playlist tracks without even thinking about cohesion, or just push a button displaying two entangled arrows to play every tracks I own in random orders, it isolated music artificially.
Alice Cooper makes sense in the stories unfolding throughout his albums. Welcome to my nightmare’s Only Women Bleed is painful to listen to if Department of Youth isn’t immediately followed by Cold Ethyl (and yet…). The same isn’t as true with Love it to death because every goddamn track in this album is incredible. Yet, I didn’t get into it until I got my hands on a vinyl player a couple of years ago. Forcing me to listen to every tracks, in their entirety, over, and over, and over again.
Music is not just tracks played here and there in random places and order. Just like any other art production, it doesn’t suffice itself but needs arranging and rearranging. DJaying and remixing make sense in music, just like curating and editing make sense in photography. Art creates affect, affects assemble, assemblages vibrate.
Seventeenth day, a date with Poison Ivy.
A woman in charge. Which seemed absolutely normal until later in life. Until this very top 10 of my most influencial albums. How can you not be shocked at the very small number of women in there?! Oh yeah, sure, there were women in the Revillos. But Poison Ivy and Toody Cole were in charge of their respective band. And also probably mourning their partner by now…
Before I got to listen to country, there was Poison Ivy’s guitar. A huge determinant to my own style of playing. She would set a goal: playing less, more important notes, and stop fearing silence. I am still learning from every minute of the Cramps. Guitar is not important because it’s always there, loud and distorted, but because it’s there when there’s room to make an impression.
Leave room around you for others to step in when needed.
Sweet sixteenth, lust for life.
J’ai déjà raconté que j’ai appris l’anglais en chantant du Bowie. Les chansons de Lust for Life font partie de mes leçons importantes, si marquées par son style qu’elles sont.
Knowledge is like being a rhizomic entity slowly spreading its tentacles through the thick layer of humus in the forest ground. Your diffuse and distributed conscience activates well-known paths in the network of your body, you listen to the good-good stuff. And suddenly one of your arms extend past a bend in the landscape created by the presence of a good-sized rock. You discover a whole new area of roots to make sweet-symbiosis with. You listen to the old-new stuff.