Wednesday Surprise! Surprise! It’s Tuesday!

This was me. Except he/she is taking it much better than I was.

Wow, the Wednesday Surprises have really gone the way of the buffalo lately, huh? Well, to be fair, I have no help in posting these and sometimes things come up. And by ‘things coming up’ I mean stomach flu. Yep, yours truly, Chancellor Buckets, had it coming outta both ends. (Have you ever had clear diarrhea? Me, neither. It is weird to see the glass of water you drank come between your other two cheeks. Happy Record Store Day to me, your local record store schlop.)

But that’s not really an excuse seeing as how that happened this past weekend. What was I doing Wednesday? None of your beeswax. I was enjoying my good friend’s book (known to the world as Michael Nolan, but to me, Beard Sex), Ataraxia Boom Boom (like it on Facebook, and if you are in Chicago go to Quimby’s and buy it), and, let me tell you…no, let me…it was fantastic. You can get it here ,and also in ebook form for those people that are terribly frightened of paper cuts or anything that isn’t backlit. Oh, and I was also too lazy to find anything to upload. You see I haven’t the ability to import vinyl onto the new machine yet…YET, but all in due time. I have some real pant-burners that I would love to share but you will just have to wait…or buy me something that will allow me to do that. Contact me and you can just put cold hard cash into my paypal (after all, I give you free music). Think of it like Random Acts of Pizza, except it is for software. Thanks, in advance.

We all know who Mercury Rev is and we all know that their only good album is Deserter’s Songs. What is the best part of the

Ealry Lips, with Jonathan on the far right wearing a creepily identical shirt to Coyne.

album? The music. Jonathan Donohue had obviously picked up a few things in his time with the much better Flaming Lips (Soft Bulletin and before. Post-Bulletin is less interesting and, lets face it, all flash and no fire. Personally those guys deserve all the fame they have achieved and I only wish them the best.), mostly the hard ‘r’s in his vocal stylings. Wayne Coyne does it well. Donahue simply does it. I could do without it. And so could you. (Longtime Lips producer, Dave Fridmann, plays the bass and probably has a large hand in the pants of why this album sounds so goddamn good.)

Your wishes have now come true. I give you Deserter’s Songs, INSTRUMENTAL. Excelsior Melodies (Mercury Rev‘s fairly new label) made this their flagship offering and hopefully they will eventually release it on masturbatory-worthy vinyl sometime in the upcoming years. Truly Morricone-worthy soundtrack epics by the ton. Danny Elfman for softcore porn. Fuck Zaireeka…put this on on ten slightly off time stereos, dose (do one for me, the old man), and lay back. Don’t get into water, though. You may drown. (RIYL: Getting boners at sunsets, breaking windows out of abandoned factories with your loved one, or driving a motorcycle under the influence.)


How's that for Nederbeat? (Pats self on the back.)

I had another choice for a little gracious hug for waiting for so long but I couldn’t stop listening to this record today. The Outsiders, led by frontman Wally Tax, were the forefront of the Nederbeat sub-sub-sub-subgenre. On this album, CQ, they are captured in their brutal elegance. Beautiful eagles with talons of snakes. “Misfits” sounds like a typical garage rock smack down, but then “Zsarrah” explains perfectly what they are actually about with the haunting, lurching swirls of anti-psych and lyrics, “See, I’m different/I’m not your kind/I have no reason to be kind at all”. Listen to their epic, “Prison Song”, for a complete mindfuck ala Zager & Evans’ “Mr. Turnkey“. Why can’t these little pipsqueaks of today learn what makes music powerful?


I will try to keep this up a little more often. And I also hate blogs that say that. To further make it up to you here is a conversation I had with one of our (many) crazy customers, deemed ‘Manic Presley’.

Manic Presley: I want to sell these. They are new.

Mister Buckets: Okay. (Looks at the DVDs). I can’t give you anything. They’re all scratched.

MP: No they’re not.

MB: Yes, they are. Look.

MP: I just came from Jamaica.

MB: Yeah? What part?

MP: San Francisco.

MB: Ah, beautiful this time of year.

MP: Yeah. You have a deck of cards.

MB: No, I don’t.

MP: Spades are my favorite.

MB: Mine, too.

We both walk away.


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