Jesus is about to get crushed by a gargantuan pilates ball! If this series had consisted entirely of No. 6 being chased by rovers I would have been satisfied. Instead we get a confusing mess of mumbled dialog, uninformative flashbacks, more mumbled dialog and 3 or 4 schmaltzy love story plot lines. The rovers have about 15 seconds of total screen time over the course of the entire mini-series.

The original series was full of humor, suspense and sci-fi imagination. No. 6 was always playing a cat-and-mouse battle of wits with his caretakers—never knowing who he could trust. I always thought the key theme of the original was its defense of individualism. No. 6 had a mind of his own and nothing was going to take that away.

The new series starts off completely off-base by opening with No. 6 suffering from amnesia, with no idea who he is or what he believes. So, for pretty much the whole series, six is dazed and confused, with no real sense of purpose as he aimlessly stumbles about The Village. The series lingers too much boring side plots like the inane drama between No. 2 and his annoying son. The other villagers are treated in a far too sympathetic light. Where’s the paranoia? You’d think the writers would have a lot to address in this post 9/11 world regarding individualism and privacy.

If anything, this remake has made me appreciate the original that much more. And really, if you need a more modernized version of The Prisoner, you would be better off just watching Lost.

Music List 2007

• My God is Alive! Sorry About Yours. by The Knights of the New Crusade
• The Austerity Program…?
• A Challenge to the Cowards of Christendom by The Knights of the New Crusade
• On a Tight Budget by Budget Girls
• The Giallos Flame by The Giallos Flame
  • Rating: 7/10
• L’Uccello Dalle Piume di Cristallo by Ennio Morricone
  • Rating: 10/10

Game List 2007

• The Last Battle
  • Rating 3/10
  • Impossible platform brawler for the Sega Genesis.
• The Orange Box
• Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time
  • Rating: 7/10
  • The jumping puzzles are more fun than the combat.
• Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
  • Rating: 9/10
  • Wonderfully done video game. Simple mechanics and a good story.
• Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins
  • Rating: 8/10
  • Nothing new here. Just a great mario game.
• Return to Castle Wolfenstein
  • Rating: 5/10
  • Took me forever to finish because it’s pretty boring. Tries to tell a story and fails.

2006

Game List 2006

• Half-Life 2
  • Rating: 9/10
  • Very good, but starts to drag in the 3rd act
• Heretic II
  • Rating: 6/10
  • Bad voice acting, decent gameplay, but suffers from early FPS monotony.
• Day of Defeat: Source
  • Rating 10/10
  • Great multiplayer FPS

Music List 2006

• Hello Young Lovers by Sparks
  • Rating: 10/10
  • A masterpiece of epic, symphonic goofiness and left-of-center pop structuring. Sparks best since Kimono my House.
• Fear Box Set by Ennio Morricone
  • Rating: 10/10

2005

Game List 2005

• Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne
  • Rating: 10/10
  • Excellent plot, really fun game play, and excellent voice acting. Who cares if it was a bit short. This is a perfect video game is ever there was one.
• Neverwinter Nights
  • Rating: 6/10
  • Great graphics and enjoyable story, but the gameplay is monotonous and lacks and sort of serious skill or strategy element.
• Serious Sam the Second Encounter
  • Rating: 6/10
• Farcry
  • Rating: 8/10

When Allie King heard the heavy iron gates of the penitentiary clang shut behind him, he breathed deeply of the crisp, fresh air and made a vow that he would never be caught again. Somewhere along the line he had made a mistake and a prison term had been payment for that mistake; but it would never happen again.

Pulsebeat is the overwhelmingly hard, tough, and suspenseful story of Allie King’s career in crime from the time he regained his freedom from prison until the day he learned the bitter fact that freedom can be lost other ways than through prison.

Allie began his career in a small way, running with the tough guys who hung out in O’Malley’s poolroom, and picking up a small illegal dollar as best he could. He soon graduated to the lucrative stolen car racket and quickly began to by-pass the lieutenants of slick Louis Manetti in his rise to the top. Along the line Allie graduated, too, from the quickly purchased love of the joy girls to sleek, beautiful Judy Parker, whose charm came at a high price indeed. With piston-like speed Allie moved into the life of a top racketeer. He even felt he was immune from the law. What Allie hadn’t bargained for was his falling in love with Judy . . . because they discovered each other when it was too late to do either one of them much good.

Queens was a fat territory on the Organization’s records and Allie had his eye on the big estates and golf courses on both shores from Nassau to Montauk Point. After a while, his unit was making as much as three strikes a week, usually on Saturday and Sunday nights, when the marks were enjoying themselves in the theatres and restaurants, or getting slopped up in Long Island night spots. When it got too hot, like the time Monk got picked up for delaying a cop in a chase, they took time off. Monk played a good drunk, but his old record didn’t help, when it was checked. When they let him go, Louie Manetti decided that the team should go to Miami Beach until the heat cooled off.

Even with Louie paying the freight, Miami was expensive. Hialeah, good food, liquor, dames and tips, flattened the bankroll so badly that Allie had to wire Louie for dough half a dozen times. Too late, he recognized the old adage, that Louie had sucked them in letting them borrow until they got in so deep into the Organization for dough, they could never quit. The obligation would hold them in line, because underworld ethics never forgave a welcher, no matter what else, and the payoff could only be a ride. It was a gimmick Allie hadn’t figured on.

A month in Miami did the trick for Manetti. When Allie, Monk and Jo-Jo came back broke, they were happy to go to work to make new folding dough. Allie picked up his key at the Imperial Heights, called Louie for another advance to pay his bill, and found a note from Judy Parker that was over two weeks old.

“What a dumb jerk,” he told himself, angry at the way he had gotten sucked into a hole when a girl like Judy lived across the hall. A Brahms lullaby stole softly into the hall from suite 622. He listened to the music for a moment, went across the hall and pushed the buzzer. He had that same funny, dropped feeling he got the first time he met her.

Judy swung the door open. Allie stood there, grinning uncomfortably, his hands damp. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hoping she would invite him in.

She was a vision in a light green dress and her blonde hair was combed down full, until it touched the top of her milky shoulders. The dress was designed with a sheer net at the throat, pocketing the full bosom and allowing the cleft at her breast to show tantalizingly. The dress matched Judy’s sea green eyes.

As his eyes raced over her body, Allie experienced the same exciting sensation he had when, as a kid, he sat in the top balcony of the Star Burlesque on Jay Street, and waited impatiently for the show to start. She set him off, firing his imagination and he mentally undressed the lovely figure. He could see her breasts, tipped with little rosebuds, pushing toward him, like little hungry mouths, the long swell of her stomach, the round hips, the hidden, secret center of her. . . .

He felt physically wrung out as he looked into her luminous eyes that were almost on a level with his because of the satin pumps with their tapering heels.

“Still playing records?” It was all he could manage.

“Well-how are you. . . .?” Her tone was indifferent. It disappointed him.

“I just got back from Miami and got your note. . .” He waited for her to ask him in, surreptitiously wiping the perspiration from his hands on his coat.

“I wouldn’t know, since I didn’t receive a card. . .” Her voice was still cool.

“I-I thought if you didn’t have a date, we might do something. . . .” he said hesitantly.

“I have, later, but we’ve got time for a drink. How was Miami?”

He was in the room now. He had a wild desire to touch her-caress the bare shoulders and white arms, but she was being very formal, treating him like the most casual of acquaintances.

“So, so. . . .” he mumbled.

Judy passed him to open the door of the midget refrigerator. She pulled out an aluminum tray of cubes. “Scotch, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” his tone was caustic. “How did you ever remember?”

“Oh, I’m long on memory. Especially on postcards… .” But she was warming up a little. She poured the liquor over the cubes, adding a small amount of soda. As she walked towards him, his imagination tricked him again, and he saw her naked. He grinned because she looked funny, holding the glasses of Scotch, in the nude.

“Well, are you with me?” Judy’s voice was sharp. She had an idea he was making fun of her. “Things couldn’t have been so bad in Miami, if it put you in such a fog.”

Allie flushed. “I wasn’t exactly thinking of Miami.” This time his grin was impish. “You should know what was thinking….”

“I can imagine-but I’m a big girl now and you can tell me. What were you thinking about?” She held out his drink.

“Sure you won’t get sore?” He took the drink, watching her closely. “It was nothing.”

She smiled. “It’s the first time anybody, especially a male, came to the apartment with nothing on his mind.”

“In that case, I can be a very accommodating guy.” He put the drink down on a table, grasped her bare arms with his hot palms and kissed her hard on the mouth.

“That’s acting true to form,” she said. “Now, what were you really thinking about?”

Allie felt wildly exhilarated. She had returned his kiss. “That dress. It’s a gorgeous bunch of fluff, including what’s in it.” He watched her over the rim of the glass. The flattering reply pleased her.

“I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my favorites.” She spun around quickly, tile bottom of the skirt flaring out, to give him a better view of her long, slender legs. “I think it’s cute.”

“The legs don’t hurt either. I told Monk and Jo-Jo you had better legs than Betty Grable.”

“Were you honestly thinking of me?” she smiled.

“Sure was, Baby-but maybe in a way you wouldn’t like. It was kinda intimate….” He choked on the swig of Scotch he took.

“I expect it was. But the mere fact that a man takes time off from thinking about himself, to give a few moments to a woman is complimentary,” she teased. “Even if the thought is all about sex.”

Allie gave a little ground. “Well, at first I was thinking about the dress. Now I’m not so sure.”

“What about the dress?” Her voice still teased.

“Okay, if you want it straight.” Allie took a deep breath and blurted out. “It’s the kind of dress that builds a fire inside a guy, until he feels he’s going to jump out of his skin. It’s a prop, that’s what that dress is. A prop for rape….”

This was a little more than Judy had expected, but she wasn’t too surprised. She liked Allie; suspected he was in the rackets, and it wasn’t too hard to figure it would not be long before he came to the point, if she gave him the slightest encouragement. She took his glass, refilled it and came back, standing very close to him. Her mouth was slightly open as if she invited him to kiss her again. He could see the tip of her tongue, narrow and red, between the rows of even white teeth.

Allie put down the glass she had given him, and when Judy still didn’t move, he took her into his arms, pressing her tightly into him. He circled her firm waist with his left arm and slowly covered her mouth with his, feeling the little red tongue brush his lips like quick soft wings, as she curved her body into his, running her fingers up and down his neck and into his hair. Suddenly, their bodies grew tense, and her whole body shook as she clung to him, her fingernails digging into his neck. Allie held her until she went limp in his arms.

He ran his right hand around the swell of her breasts, tearing some of the netting. She let him caress her, not having the strength nor the desire to pull away. He kissed her neck and lips passionately, until the phone broke up the sensuous hypnosis and she pulled away to answer it. Allie followed her to kiss her eyes and lips, making it difficult for her to talk.

“I’ll be right down, Jimmy,” she managed to mumble. She hung up.

“Goddamn!” Allie threw a pillow against the wall violently. He tried to grab her, but she made the bedroom and bolted the door. He grinned sheepishly and went out of the door, his feet dragging…

©1954 by Frank Smith

Vixen Press brings us this sordid tale of love, deception, murder, and golf. This book plays like a soap opera. Hugh Alton, the (literally) cocky golf enthusiast and Oakcrest Country Club’s most popular/powerful member, is found murdered. The list is suspects has Mike Barnett right at the top. Mike had embarrassed Hugh by besting him in a round on the links and by bedding Hugh’s lovely wife, Marge. The autopsy reveals Hugh was hit with a four-iron(!) and lo and behold Mike’s four is missing. Mike isn’t the only suspect though. The list also includes a young golf caddy and his girlfriend, the club slut-lesbos, and even the club board’s president. Sufice to say all the character become involved with one another and they all hate Hugh Alton.

When I started this novel I had hoped that there would be some juicy bits that use golf as a metaphor for sex but that was not the case. There were a couple of spicey, and/or disturbing lines and I have a few of them here.

Mike, nowhere near his form of the day before, relaxed and swung his clubs automatically, “playing by ear.” And yet he could not help wondering if his teammates had done some nocturnal swinging the night before.

The glow from the single light licked over her knit dress as she drew her legs up under her. The dress fitted so well that he could make out the ridges formed by the tops of her stockings and the garters that held them. Her fine breasts jutted nicely into the springy material. But her face told of the strain of the past twenty-four hours.

“All right, Johnny. I won’t argue semantics with you. You’re right. There’s no such thing as rape. But there is such a thing that a woman may not enjoy it — and when that is the case, it may as well be rape.”

His hand fell on her pale gold hair and ran down over it. “Would you believe me, if I told you I love you?”

It took no effort at all to conjure up that incredibly beautiful face, framed in the pale gold hair, with the haunting, hungry eyes and that warm-cool mouth that was equally delightful on his own lips or pressed against his ear…

Or those impossibly lovely legs. So tan and slender. And how they looked when her tapering fingers slowly, languorously separated the nylons from their garters, stretched them at the top and then peeled them down over the full, supple thighs. They made a wonderful kind of music — the wispy stockings against the tactile flesh of her legs. Like the soft whisper of violins in jasmine-scented air.

At last, without their coverings, the legs were things free and alive, invitingly alive. Such wonderful creations, as perfect as matched pearls … or would that better describe her breasts?

Yes. White from being sheilded from the sun, they were like two exquisite gems resting on brown velvet that quivered when he touched them — that seemed to have been created for his lips and eyes alone. They rose fresh and unafraid from the secret springs in her body to blooming, divided loveliness. Malleable, pliable, they were yet unchangable no matter what he did to them. Their sweet undercurves were as fingers bekoning him to come hither and pay homage.

Ah, sweet was the word for her entire being. Sweeter than all the perfumes of old Araby, more delicious than the rarest of wines of the most exalted kings, more mysterious than the teasing smile of the Mona Lisa, as wonderous as the Venus de Milo, as achingly bittersweet as a Puccini aria.

This trashy 1953 novel was published by Vixen Press. It tells the story of Mitch, a stunning nineteen-year-old sociology major who sidelines as a photography model. After a disastrously failed attempt to bring art to the rural community of Mullen she takes up modeling full-time. She eventually becomes entangled in the dark web of an underground pornography ring led by one Ida Untermeyer. Mitch begins to loose stray too far and she soon realizes she has to find a way out…

Her plan is a simple one: break into Ida office and burn her file cabinet. Freeing herself and the good photographers from the blackmailing claws of Ida Untermeyer. You see, Ida has this cabinet full of photos that go too far over the edge and could be incriminating to all those involved. Well, Mitch is successful! She frees herself from Ida’s sick game. This brings Mitch into direct conflict with Ida whose rage explodes into the best passage of the book…a stellar catfight which is this novel’s Bent Page excerpt. This excerpt picks up just after Ida finds out from Mitch that it was she who burned her files:

Ida pricked up her ears. “Burned them? What do you know about burning?”

But Mitch had said it on purpose. She laughed. “Oh, I know all about it–you said so yourself.”

Ida almost screamed in frustration. “Don’t you get smart with me, you little snip,” she cried coarsely. “I’ll beat your brains in!”

Mitch stood up, every authoritative quality in her sounding a ringing battle cry. “Do it,” she said. “Do it, please. Ever since I found out what kind of bondage I’m in to you I’ve wanted something like this to happen. I may not be able to get away from you, but you’re not going to get much enjoyment out of my company. You and your filthy business.”

She turned to leave, but before she was halfway across the bedroom floor, Ida leaped on her like a huge cat, her fingers entwining in Mitch’s hair.

A great joy surged through Mitch. Suddenly all her misery, all her terror, all the hurts that had come her way since that awful night in Mullen poured into her muscles like liquid power. Ida became the symbol of the forces that had victimized her. A dreadful, joyous desire to destroy the blonde came over her.

With vicious strength she planted her left elbow in Ida’s stomach and as the soft flesh gave, she swung left, her right fist coming around in a wide arc. It caught Ida flush in the chin and flung her backward to the floor.

Then Mitch was on her, raining blows on her stricken face.

This is for me and this is for Craig and this is for Vince and this is for X and for X and for X…all the unknowns whose lives you’ve enslaved and whose happiness and security you’ve ruined–you and your kind–her and in Mullen and wherever you hide out in your slimy caves. This is what I’ll do to your ugly, leering face!

Ida’s clawing fingers caught at the front of Mitch’s dress and tore it straight down. It dropped about her shoulders and she moved back and rose to her feet in order to get a chance to free her encumbered arms.

In a flash, Ida-her nose bleeding-jumped up while Mitch struggled with the dress, and swung her foot violently in a well-aimed kick.

It caught Mitch in the stomach. The breath flew from her and she collapsed on the rug, lungs heaving convulsively for air.

Ida looked about wildly. On the dresser was a leather belt. She ran quickly and picked it up, the returned to the fallen Mitch, the belt raised above her head. Mitch’s dress was hanging about her waist and her heaving breasts were straining at the tight brassiere.

The belt came down across Mitch’s back with a stinging pain that brought Mullen back like an explosion in her mind. She managed to get to her feet, and lurching forward, she grabbed at the waistband of Ida’s skirt. The band gave and as the skirt dropped about Ida’s ankles, Mitch swung hard and hit the solid flesh of one upthrust breast.

Ida screamed with pain and attempted to retreat. She stumbled on the skirt and fell back against the bed.

Mitch was right after her. She tore the blouse down from the woman’s shoulders until it served as a restraint on the freedom of her arms, then she ripped the brassiere underneath and raked her fingernails over Ida’s breasts, leaving long, red, bleeding streaks.

The tears were running down both their faces. Ida’s were mingling with blood from her nose, making a sopping mess.

Ida writhed and twisted, but Mitch sat on top of her. She reached for the belt as Ida fought madly to retain it. As Mitch leaned forward, trying to clamp down the flailing wrists, Ida sank her teeth through the brassiere into the soft breast that Mitch presented directly above her face.

Mitch pulled back with a jerk and Ida helped with a push. As Mitch fell backward, she felt her dress slipping down over her hips and thighs. She sat heavily on the floor and Ida got up, hastily removing her now encumbering blouse. Both girls were down to their undies, Mitch in her pale yellow panties and brassiere and Ida wearing nothing but a pair of tiny transparent white panties.

Again Mitch felt the belt, this time across her breasts. It cut cruelly and she cried out with pain. She flung herself at Ida, grabbing her about the knees and then they were both down, rolling over and over on the rug, scratching and clawing at each other. Mitch’s brassiere was torn from her and she had to fight frantically to protect her free-swinging breasts from Ida’s nails and teeth. Finally she managed to get loose long enough to slam her knee into Ida’s groin. The agent gasped and her hands flew to protect that region. The belt fell from her fingers and Mitch grabbed it up at once and started raining blows on her.

Ida writhed and twisted and tried to escape the cutting, stinging lashes. She crawled along the floor and huddled against the furniture. She tried to get to her feet, but each time the leather whined through the air and cut her down again. Finally she lay crying and whimpering in the middle of the floor, her lungs panting and straining for air, her body still and taking blows wherever they fell.

She was criss-crossed with red welts, from her knees to her neck, both front and back. Her panties hung in strips about her hips.

At last the fury played itself out in Mitch. She threw the belt into a corner of the room and started towards the bathroom. What she needed was a hot bath. She was sick with Ida and sick with herself. She felt fulfilled and statiated, triumphant and disgusted, all at the same time.

Ida stirred. “Mitch,” she whimpered. “Mitch.”

Mitch stopped and turned, looked down at the naked bruised form on the floor. “What?” she said calmly.

“Help me, honey. I hurt.”

“Damn right, you hurt,” Mitch said dryly, but a little spark of pity lighted in her at the utter abjectness of her victim.

“Help me up, please. Please.”

Mitch went to the blonde and helped her to her feet.

“Oooh,” Ida murmured, a strange note of lascivious coyness in her voice, “am I sore!”

Mitch looked at her in amazement. Why wasn’t Ida bawling? Why wasn’t she cursing her? The blonde head was resting against her shoulder and she felt a strange inexplicable thrill run through her. What was this?

“Please, Mitch, run some hot water in the tub and help me wash away these awful welts.”

She led Ida to the bed. The blonde sat down and waited patiently while Mitch ran the bath. Mitch came back and helped her free herself of the torn panties that still hung about her thighs, then led her into the bathroom to the tub. Mitch sat on the edge of the tub and gently laved the bruises and the welts and the fingernail-marks with warm water and gentle soap.

All the while, Ida was making little moaning, whimpering sounds. When Mitch ran her soft, soapy hands over the cuts on Ida’s breasts, she felt the points harden and Ida breathed a soft, “A-a-ah.”

Mitch was utterly confused. This was not what she had expected. At the same time she felt a kind of tenderness toward the woman she had just beaten so brutally, for she did not feel that she had been entirely fair. She had made Ida pay for every mean thing that had happened to her during the last few months. And after all, Ida could not be held accountable for everything. She had used Ida as a scapegoat, in a manner of speaking. She felt a kind of pity toward the bruised body under her hands, and her hands began to show her compassion.

Finally Ida stood up with difficulty. “Rub me real gently with the towel, will you, dear?” she begged, and Mitch patted her dry. “I want to lie down for a little while.”

Mitch helped her to bed. She turned down the covers and Ida stretched out on the clean, cool sheet. When Mitch turned to go back to the bathroom, Ida called softly, “Mitch. Mitch don’t go away. Don’t leave me.”

Mitch turned back.

Ida’s voice went on, “Come here, please, Mitch. Come close. Sit down here.” She patted the sheet at her side.

Mitch, almost in a trance of astonishment, sat down. Suddenly she felt Ida’s arms about her neck and she felt herself pulled down. The arms closed convulsively tight.

Ida panted, “Mitch . . . Mitch . . . I love you. I love you!“

Like Ed Wood’s Plan 9 from Outer Space, Zardoz is a complete train wreck that fails at so many levels it has to be seen to be believed. If you don’t want me to spoil the fun for you, stop reading and go rent it now (it’s coming out on DVD later this month), otherwise what follows is my synopsis of this debacle.

Zardoz is undoubtedly a product of the early seventies, when hippies were still stinking up the land and all the hipsters were out to “expand their minds.” The film, I suppose, owes much to Stanley Kubrick’s, 2001: A Space Odyssey. This chart maps the comparison:

All this worked in Kubrick’s movie, what was Zardoz missing that could have taken it to the next level? My guess is that it’s Zardoz’s general lack of monkeys. This was Kubrick’s genius. The man knew how to push the monkey to boring plot ratio. Boorman came close to achieving this sublime balance by casting Sean Connery in the role of Zed’s hairy chest, but falls just short of the mark.

Most of the film does consist of Sean Connery running around in a reddish Speedo and knee-high boots, with nothing but a bandoleer covering his chest. My reaction during the first third of the movie wavered between being in awe of this ridiculous outfit and wondering why Connery even accepted this stupid role.

For all its failings, there are some seemingly grandiose ideas lurking behind the cheese. The movie actually opens with the floating head of Arthur Frayn proclaiming that the story we are about to witness is of great importance, “rich in irony and most satirical.” You would think that somehow a guy with a painted on moustache and an English accent couldn’t possibly mislead you. However, by the end you realize his monologue bears the same message delivered in Criswell’s intro to Plan 9: “Future events such as these will effect you… in the future!”

The whole thing seemed to be about something. What is truth behind our existence? Who controls the floating god-head of Zardoz? Are guns really better than a penis? Wouldn’t it be great if we all died? The only real message I got from the film was that drugs are bad, they make you do embarrassing things, they make horrible film ideas come to fruition.

Much of the film’s plot centers on the giant floating stone head of Zardoz. The question that perplexes the residents of the Vortex and the one that the film makers want the audience to be perplexed about is, “How did Zed get inside the stone head?” This doesn’t provide much of a driving plot line. Many times throughout the movie, the question most of us as viewers want answered are more along the lines of, “What just happened?” The movie is filled with little goofy touches: one of the character’s voice cutting in and out for his friends’ amusement, green bread, mud wrestling, zombie-like characters who drink sweat for power, group-meditation, and gratuitous toplessness.

Fortunately, later this month Zardoz will be released on DVD. The DVD will include John Boorman’s commentary. I am hopeful that his commentary will amount to more than an apology to his fans, and that they truly let some light on the meaning behind this cinematic debacle.

Fudge Tunnel – Hate Songs in the Key of E
Grungy metal. Not sure why I own this. All I know is that it isn’t worth putting up for sale on Amazon.

Fugazi – 13 Songs
Stop all that slam dancing you punks. It’s Fugazi! Classic post-punk record(s).

Fugazi – Repeater
Although there are not as many stand alone “hits” as there are on 13 songs, this is perhaps their best record.

Fugazi – Steady Diet of Nothing
There’s something about the attitude of this record that turns me off. Ian Maykaye’s vocals are at his absolute most annoying level on the attrocious track, Long Division. I stopped buying Fugazi albums after this (for a while at least).

Fugazi – In on the Kill Taker
Although the ultra cool opening is quickly squandered by Fugazi sameness, this CD redeemed the band somewhat for me. There are a couple of stinkers, but not bad overall.

The Galaxy Trio – In the Harem
Surf inspired instrumental music, but with a more distorted, 90s edge.

The Galaxy Trio – Saucers Over Vegas
More of the same.

The Giallos Flame – The Giallos Flame
Despite the corny cover, this is a pretty decent CD. The songs are inspired by the music of Gobin, Fabio Frizzi and other Italian Giallo soundtrack motifs. The tone fluctuates between jazzy, funky and synth-rocky (the latter being my favorite).

Girls Against Boys – Cruise Yourself
Groove-centric 90s hard rock. A laid back wall of sound.

Godflesh – Godflesh
Extremely heavy and slow. This is from before they discovered house music.

Godflesh – Streetcleaner
These are slow jamz for the grindcore set. Loud, piercing and slow. The slightly more experimental bonus tracks are better than most of the actual tracks on the LP.

Godflesh –Slavestate
A really great album. The gurgle and grind of the previous albums is honed in with a rhythmic, electronic backdrop. Not dance music, but a far more groovy version of Godflesh indeed.

Godflesh – Pure
This is my favorite Godflesh album. This is almost an industrial music album, but the samples and electronics are only there to color the edges of the mix. Unlike previous feedback heavy Godflesh releases, you can actually hear the instruments and what they are playing–this is a good thing.

Godflesh – Cold World
A nice Pure-era single. These tracks are as good as anything from that CD.

Godflesh – Merciless
How Godflesh lost her groove.

D.O.A. – Bloodied But Unbowed
Straightforward Canadian punk rock.

D.O.A. – True (North) Strong & Free
Slightly less punk, and a bit more cheesy bar band sounding. Dull.

D.O.A. – Murder
Again, not the most innovative band around. Slightly better than the previous CD listed here.

Thomas Dolby – The Golden Age of Wireless
She Blinded Me with Science is so over-played that I can’t enjoy it anymore. Thankfully, many of the other songs are worthwhile on this CD: Europa and the Pirate Twins and Windpower stand out for me.

Thomas Dolby – The Flat Earth
Veers a bit into adult contemporary territory, but there’s enough new wave-ishness here to keep it interesting.

Dollface – Corvette Summer
The finest band to ever come out of Peoria, Illinois. Every song is a gem here.

Dollface – Lights the Pilot
Geez, this band was good. Shoulda been bigger.

Drop Acid – Making God Smile
Kevin Seconds’s post 7 Seconds band. Very 90’s sounding. I saw this band open for Superchunk in Champaign, IL the night Magic Johnson revealed he had AIDS.

Drums & Tuba – Flatheads and Spoonies
Really they are drums, tuba and noodly guitar. Bought this on a whim after seeing them live. Different, but the songs get old pretty fast.

El Vez – How Great Thou Art
A certain amount of pop-music literacy may be required to really appreciate El Vez. Funny, but there’s much more going on to really discount him as a “joke” band.

El Vez – Merry MeX-Mas
El Vez’s first Christmas album. His cover of Feliz Navidad/Public Image is a classic. Highly recommended listening.

El Vez – Boxing With God
Religion-inspired rock from El Vez. His amazing skill as an arranger is in full play here.

El Vez – Sno Way Jose
More Christmas (and Hanukah) greatness.

Eminem – The Marshall Mathers LP
Okay, Wika bought this one. She got it at Wal-Mart so it is edited and bleeped. It’s almost worth a listen just to hear how much this is cut up. Even if we could hear the bad words, this album still would suck as much as it already does.

Esquivel – Space Age Bachelor Pad Music
Wonderful, off-the-wall big band arrangements from the 50’s and 60’s from this musical genius.

Devo – Now it Can Be Told
Despite being recorded during the waning years of Devo, this live album is actually pretty great. They even make the bad Total Devo tracks seem almost good.

Devo – Smooth Noodle Maps
Devo’s last release is okay. I bit more consistant than Total Devo. But still nothing close to their glory days. The cover fo the Greatful Dead’s Morning Dew is the best track on the CD.

Devo – Post Post Modern Man (single)
A CD single from Smooth Noodle Maps. Nothing remarkable here.

Devo – EZ Listening Disk
Devo covers devo.

Devo – Hardcore Devo Vol. 1
Lacks the electronic polish of their best work, but most of this CD is essential Devo.

Devo – Hardcore Devo Vol. 2
Same as above, just more.Devo – Greatest HitsMost of my Devo collection is in the form of cassettes, so I bought this so I would have a CD version of their best stuff.

Dianogah – As Seen From Above
Two basses and a drummer. My friend Jay’s band revived my waning interest in indy-rock in the early 00’s with this CD.

Dianogah – Battle Champions
My favorite Dianogah album.

Dianogah – Millions of Brazillians
Not their best work. I think I was wanting more from their sound when this CD came out. I still like it quite a bit.

Dick Dale – Tribal Thunder
Dick Dale’s awesome comeback album. Totally insane. Dick Dale was signed as a witness on my organ donor card for years.

Dick Dale – The Best of Dick Dale and his Del-Tones
More great Dick Dale – the self-proclaimed inventor of heavy metal(?!)

Didjits – Hornet Piñata
Champaign band. They were a great act to see live, but in hindsight, their music is kinda lame.

Didjits – Full Nelson Reilly
Same as above.The Dirty HowlersGreat garage rawk from Chicago.

The Dirty Howlers – Behold!
Another batch of raw rockers from the Howlers. They broke up immediately after they released this CD.

The Challengers – Lloyd Thaxton Goes Surfing with The Challengers
One of the best of the early Sixties surf bands. A very polished sound.

The Challengers – K-39
Another great Challengers record with even more focus on Delvy’s drums.

The Cherry Poppin’ Daddies – Ferociously Stoned
Great song writing, lots of hopping big band-ish numbers and the wonderful The Lifeboat Mutiny. A couple of funk laden stinkers, but aside from that and maybe some thin production on the drums, I love this record.

The Cherry Poppin’ Daddies – Rapid City Muscle Car
A far more consistent album than the previous, and just as good. The best tracks here aren’t quite as good as the best ones from Ferociously Stoned, but nothing to complain about.

Chrome – Half Machine Lip Moves / Alien Soundtracks
Contemporaries of Cabaret Voltaire, Chrome were just about as noisy. Chrome stuck to a more traditional guitar, bass and drums for the core of their sonic abstractions. There are some toe tapping tune hidden in here.

Circle Jerks – Group Sex / Wild in the Streets
A punk band that everyone had to have listened too when they first discovered punk. The songs don’t hold up that well these days, but they are short and it’s over before you get bored.

Circle Jerks- Wonderful
I think I bought this CD for 2 or 3 dollars used. The lyrics are funny and the musicianship is improved, but the songs are really stale compared to my favorite Circle Jerks’ record, Golden Shower of Hits.

The Clash – London Calling
I don’t know. I think this may be one of the most overrated records ever. It’s not awful, I guess. But it just doesn’t clique with me. There are plenty of memorable moments, but outside of The Guns of Brixton I find this stuff plain boring. It’s like fairly proficient bar-band music with (politically) revolutionary lyrics. Meh. And if I never hear the excruciating anthem Death or Glory again, it will be too soon.

Chris Connelly – Stowaway
RevCo / Ministry singer does his best David Bowie impersonation yet.

Coyle & Sharpe – On the Loose
Incredible man-on-the-street gags. Pure genius.

Coyle & Sharpe – Audio Visionaries
More Candid Microphone weirdness. Not as good as On the Loose but still is hilarious.

Criswell – The Legendary Criswell Predicts! Your Incredible Future
Be amazed as Criswell gets about 99.9999% of his predictions wrong. Nakedness is a key element of many of them. Funny and weird and mastered as a single 45 minute long CD track.

The Dave & Deke Combo – Moonshine Melodies
Hillbilly bop. Great musicianship and a great sense of humor.

The Dave & Deke Combo – Hollywood Barn Dance
More swinging hillbilly music. Better than the first CD. A whole barnyard of fun.

Sammy Davis Jr. – Greatest Hits
I have a real soft spot for Sammy Davis Jr. There’s a lot of delicious cheese mixed in with the big band numbers, and man was that guy an Entertainer (with the capital “E”). The live version of Come Back to Me will blow your socks off. It makes any live rock band you’ve heard feel like a 2 hour conference call with regional HQ.

The Dead Kennedys – Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables
When I started this project, I was dreading revisiting these DK albums. Jello became soooo annoying later on in his career. Anyhow, I was surprised that much of this was still pretty good. It holds up much better than the drab SoCal punk of bands like Black Flag. Inventive guitar playing and more abstract political snarkiness make this a classic. Even though the CD I got is mastered like crap.

The Dead Kennedys – Plastic Surgery Disasters / In God We Trust, Inc.
More awful sounding production/mastering from the DKs. The music is still pretty good. In God We Trust, Inc. is the weaker of the two albums on this CD. Not quite as inspired as Fresh Fruit but good.

The Dead Kennedys – Frankenchrist
This album sounds great. Too bad most of the songs are crap. The lyrics are forced and the songs are starting to get too long without going anywhere.

The Dead Kennedys – Bedtime for Democracy
Jello is in full on annoying mode on this record. Again, the songs are too plain or just go on too long.

The Dead Kennedys – Give me Convenience or Give me Death
A great compilation of singles and imports. Mostly from before the band went sour.

Death Valley – ¡Que Pasta!
Nice Ennio Morricone Spaghetti Western inspired instrumentals.

Deke Dickerson – More Million Sellers
Wonderful collection of rock ‘n’ roll and country numbers from Deke.

Deke Dickerson – Mr. Entertainment
A collection of extras and rarities. As one might expect, not as consistent as his albums but includes some of his best songs such as Double Zombie and Muleskinner Blues.

Deke Dickerson – In 3 Dimensions
Another great record from guitar geek Deke. Nicely divided into three groups of styles: rock ‘n’ roll, rockabilly and hillbilly.

The Denison/Kimball Trio – Walls of the City
Jazzy guitar-drums combo. Some pretty off-the-wall guitar work, but suffers from every song sounding pretty similar.

The Denison/Kimball Trio – Soul Machine
Much more diverse and interesting than the previous CD.

Devo – Q: Are We Not Men? A: We Are Devo!
An all-time classic from the definitive new wave band. Quirky, energetic and flat out genius.

Devo – Freedom of Choice
My favorite Devo album. The perfect blend of electronics and standard rock instrumentation. Most punk-types prefer their 1st album, but this one works much better as a whole for me.

Devo – Total Devo
The “comeback” Devo album that was a flop. It’s not awful, but the spark is gone. Too overproduced and sequenced, unlike the early era albums which were a melding of man and machine. This was the first DDD CD I ever owned.

The Budget Girls – On a Tight Budget Two screaming gals front this wonderfully crude and trashy garage rock outfit.

The Buggles – The Age of Plastic We all know the hit “Video Killed the Radio Star” but there about 2 or 3 more songs on this New Wave disc that are just as good. Some crap too.

William S. Burroughs – Dead City Radio The only way to appreciate Burrough is his spoken word recordings. He could read the farm report and it would seem meaningful. But, let’s face it. His books are well-written but in the end, are just meandering, plotless garbage. In this case, the short format suits him better.

William S. Burroughs & Kurt Cobain – The “Priest” They Called Him Painfully short and Cobain is there in name only. Mostly just feedback. Lame.

Cabaret Voltaire – 1974-76 Cabaret Voltaire at their rawest. Barely listenable.

Cabaret Voltaire – Mix-up A few good tracks, but they hadn’t quite got the idea that music needs some structure to make a person want to listen.

Cabaret Voltaire – The Voice of America The first decent Cabaret Voltaire record. The noise begins to become more musical. Still, not for the feint of ears.

Cabaret Voltaire – Three Mantras 2 Long tracks make up this good early Cabaret Voltaire record. World music has begun to creep up into the noise-scapes.

Cabaret Voltaire – The Living Legends A compilation of early recordings. Pretty good.

Cabaret Voltaire – Red Mecca The best of the Chris Watson era Cabaret Voltaire records. Dark, dense and challenging. Not to be missed.

Cabaret Voltaire – 2×45 Almost as good as Red Mecca with more natural sounding instrumentation and some genuine grooves. A perfect transition into the next phase of their sound.

Cabaret Voltaire – Hai! A post-Watson live recording of some of their early material. Surprisingly improvisational in nature.

Cabaret Voltaire – Listen Up With Cabaret Voltaire A 2-disc compilation of early and mid-career tracks. Highly recommended if you want to hear some of their old material, but don’t want to dive right into the hardcore stuff.

Cabaret Voltaire – The Crackdown This record is the start of the funky, danceable era of Cabaret Voltaire’s records. My favorite of their long career.

Cabaret Voltaire – Micro-Phonies The noisier side of Cabaret Voltaire is almost completely absent from this recording. A solid record that includes the super-excellent “Sensoria” remix.

Cabaret Voltaire – Eight Crepuscule Tracks A dreamy journey back to the noisy-era.

Cabaret Voltaire – The Covenant, The Sword, and The Arm of the Lord Found sounds and noise are brought back into the songs. It’s definitely danceable and funky but the added harshness is a nice change.

Cabaret Voltaire – Code They really lay on the funk on this record, with pounding drums and electric guitar. The sound has once again been cleaned-up and minimalized.

Cabaret Voltaire – Groovy, Laidback and Nasty Another dramatic shift in the direction of the band. This album is filled with traditional Chicago-house electronica and Mal actually sings melodies. In hindsight, a mediocre release, but a necessary transition into their electronica period.

Cabaret Voltaire – Hypnotised (cd single) The best song from Groovy, Laidback and Nasty gets some remixing.

Cabaret Voltaire – Keep On (cd single) More remixes from Groovy, Laidback and Nasty.

Cabaret Voltaire – Body and Soul This record is a great improvement on the previous. Richard H. Kirk is beginning to get a handle on the computer music. The music still lacks some edge but is pretty good nonetheless.

Cabaret Voltaire – What Is Real (cd single) More remixes. Cabaret Voltaire – Percussion Force A few remixes of “Don’t Walk Away” and several new tracks. Highly recommended.

Cabaret Voltaire – Colours The last recordings to feature the singing of Steven Mallinder. Along the same lines as Body and Soul with some further refinement in the style.

Cabaret Voltaire – Plasticity Much of the spirit of the old Cabaret Voltaire has come back in this CD. The music is pure dance electronica, but there is a return to found sounds and exotic world-music samples. Alas, no more singing.

Cabaret Voltaire – Technology: Western Reworks 1992 They dip way back into their catalog to find songs to remix/re-record using the power of computers and such. The result as a dazzling mix of noise and beats. I think this record changed the way Kirk/Mallinder approached electonica. Perhaps one of the earliest examples of I.D.M.

Cabaret Voltaire – I want You / Kino Remixes of the remixes.

Cabaret Voltaire – International Language A collection of new songs continues to refine the electronica meets noise.

Cabaret Voltaire – The Conversation Cabaret Voltaire’s swan song is a sprawling 2-disc masterpiece. It ebbs and flows through various themes and closes with an epic 40 minute track filled with hypnotic sonic beauty. Awesome.

So here’s where I am so far: There’s the aforementioned Big Sandy CD. It’s listenable yet unremarkable rockabilly stuff. Next, a slew of Blonde Redhead records. The first two CDs, when they had a bassist, are the best. They start to get tiresome up until Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons which is when they start adding electronics and some weirdness to their songs. These were followed by my two Blue Hearts CDs. The first is their U.S. release, Blast Off. It’s a collection of some of their best songs from their first 3 Japan-only albums. Amazing. Next is Bust, Waste, Hip which isn’t nearly as good because the punkishness is toned down quite a bit. Moving on we have The Blue Meanies’ Pave the World featuring fellow Nonagon‘er, Tony on drums. Lots of ska rhythms and horns, without being a ska band. Bomboras, Savage Island is next with lots of organ tinged surf. Pretty good but not their best. Bongwater, The Big Sellout: it’s funny, catchy and psychedelic all at the same time—a very good record. The Boogie Patrol Express La Polyester Fantasy is the only(?) CD from this early 90’s Eugene, Oregon band. Straight-forward, ever-so-mildly ironic disco music, played expertly with real instruments by talented kids. Next, I have two wonderful Boss Hog CDs, Boss hog and Whiteout, both of which are great loud . Finally, we have Brian Brain’s Time Flies When You Are Having Toast—A solo effort by then P.I.L. drummer Martin Atkins. This is a weird CD with lots of late 80’s sounding synths in front of Atkins pounding drums. Some of the tracks would be at home on a childrens’ record. It is about as far from Atkin’s Pigface as you can imagine, but, you know what, I love this CD. It was 99 cents when I got it!

Well, that was shelf unit 1 of my big Ikea CD rack. I will report back when I get through the next section.

After waiting for weeks, the planets aligned (I got access to my parents huge screen TV), I was able to watch For Your Height Only. This movie is the “A-side” of a DVD double feature including the previously reviewed Challenge of the Tiger that was released by Mondo Macabro ealier this year.

For Your Height Only (or as it appears in the title screen, For Y’ur Height Only) is another Dick Randall (Pieces) exploitation production. This film was made in the Philippines on a near-zero budget and features Philippino little-person Weng Weng as its secret agent protagonist.

The movie is essentially a Bond parody in which Weng Weng’s height is the basis for all the intended humor. The movie is, however, filled with loads of unintential laughs as well. The main source being the awful, over-the-top voice dubbing–all the baddies have James Cagney gangster voices. There are even self-aware moments in which the dialog serves as Mystery Science Theater-like comments on the action taking place. For example, during the ultra boring gadget sequence, Double-O’s boss says, “You got a bug in your hair?” only because Weng Weng happens to scratch his head during the scene.

The plot is horrible and loses track of itself about ten minutes into the film. It’s not until the climax that we remember that Double-O is trying to save a scientist or something. Most of the plot is simply an excuse to get Weng Weng to kill hordes of baddies (often the same guys multiple times). The kung-fu is a bit lacking but some of Weng Weng’s acrobatics are pretty amazing. Especially, since, I swear, Weng Weng has to be wearing leg braces under his stylish disco suits. On top of all the fighting there is also a bit of disco dancing and the obligatory, cringe-worthy Bond “love scene.”

At first I was also pretty amazed at the quality of the score, an almost note-for-note variation on For Your Eyes Only and other Bond motiffs. It’s at about the 14th time that they play the same song that I realize that the music is a bit repetitive.

This movie just oozes cheesy bad taste. It has all the markings of your typical so-bad-it’s-good movie. Take heed though, this also means there are plenty of boring moments between the insanity, but, all-in-all, a great movie to watch with your drunk friends. Taken in tandem with Challenge of the Tiger it’s a very worthwhile DVD purchase… yes, I bought this piece of crap cinema history.

Lately, I have been stocking up on Ennio Morricone movie soundtracks from the late sixties and early seventies. This been a pretty easy task since Dagored records has released a trio of great 3-disc Morricone boxed sets. Each filled with wonderful packaging and liner notes, and is well worth the $25 price tag.

Like most people, my introduction to Morricone was in his scores for the Sergio Leone Dollars movies. Those soundtracks are known for their sinister baritone guitar sounds, howls, operatic vocalization, percussive bursts, and other genre defying/redefining motifs. Morricone, it turns out, has an extremely wide stylistic range. From his pop roots to his experimental soundscapes, these box sets showcase much of the diversity of his style.

Maestro leans towards his pop side. The soundtracks included here are La Donna Invisible (The Invisible Woman), Le Foto Proibite di una Signora per Bene (Forbidden Photos of a Lady Above Suspicion ), and Slalom. La Donna is pure pop bliss, with a melody that is repeated throughout most of the disc. There are a few tracks that come close to sounding like the Theme from the Love Boat, but the vast majority of the disc is more e-z than cheesy. Le Foto is a bit more experimental, and Slalom is a solid space-age bachelor pad disc very reminiscent of another disc I have by The Peter Thomas Sound Orchestra.

Crime contains the soundtracks for Revolver (AKA: Blood in the Streets), Gli Intoccabili (AKA: Machine Gun McCain), and Giornata Nera per L’Arete (AKA: The Fifth Cord). These soundtracks have a lot more variety within each disc and are therefore not as consistently good as the other discs in this series, but they are very fine nonetheless. Gli Intoccabili has nearly the same feel as Morricone’s western soundtracks with several great vocal numbers about a man called “McCain.” I think it’s the same fellow who sings “Lonesome Billy” if you are familiar with that song by Morricone.

Fear is my favorite of the three sets. It contains Una Lucertola con la Pelle di Donna (AKA: Lizard In A Woman’s Skin), Il Gatto a Nove Code (AKA: The Cat O’ Nine Tails), and Gli Occhi Freddi Della Paura (AKA: Cold Eyes of Fear). These discs are filled with erie soundscapes and experimental improvisations. Many of the tracks would not be out-of-place on an early Cabaret Voltaire, Can or Kraftwerk album, except that these sounds are being created with traditional acoustic instruments. Great stuff.

These are the first CDs I have bought in a long time, and are worth every penny. Viva Morricone!