This Sub Pop Records 7″ was a Records Store Day exclusive from 2009, the Day’s second year (laughs to himself). Limited to 1500 copies, this translucent red ripper features I Can’t Lose as the A, and Military Madness as the B. After having received this essential piece to the Obits puzzle just last night, the only remaining record to complete the Obits discography is a Spainish-only 7″ release from 2012 featuring Refund b/w Suez Canal (on La Castanya Records). This short-lived garage-punk infusion is a great extended family member to the Rocket from the Crypt dynasty, and should feed the monkey of anyone looking to burn off some steam.
Tag Archives: Sub Pop Records
Orange Bed Bugs
We FINALLY acquired the latest Obits album, this orange vinyl version of the Sub Pop released, 2013 album, Bed & Bugs. Nothing beats their first effort, 2009’s I Blame You (as far as I’m concerned), but it’s certainly satisfying to finish this garage rock band’s discography. Straight up, classic, dedicated rock n’ roll music here, kids, and let’s face it, from one of the guys that brought us Pitchfork, Drive Like Jehu, and Hot Snakes, I’m game for anything Mr. Froberg involves himself with, and you should to. (Looks to camera.) Call and order now!
The Daredevil of Jazz
Super excited about our latest acquisition, the sure-to-be classic, Jazz Daredevil by none other than (H.) Jon Benjamin. I knew nothing about this release until about a week ago (he wrote shamefully), but having been a fan of Mr. Benjamin since my high school days (Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist), I scoured the internet searching (successfully) for a reasonably priced copy. Not paying the $225 some dude on Discogs is asking. You, sir, are crazy! Anyway, we’ll spin her tonight (or tomorrow), depending on the breaks. If you’re unfamiliar with this “concept” album, have a peek at the trailer. Yes, there’s a trailer, and yes, it’s as every bit of amazing that you think it is.
Remember
The (questionably) uncool, always entertaining Oxford Collapse (RIP) unleashed another indie rock classic with (late) 2006’s Remember the Night Parties. Is it cool to sing about National Parks (Please Visit Your National Parks), female practicers of law (Lady Lawyers), or black treacle (Molasses)? I don’t care one way or the other, because Remember the Night Parties is, from start to finish, an essential album. Top 50 all-time, I’d have to say, which is saying something, and nothing at the same time.
Finding Thelma
Long after the rowdy Seattle serpents threw down the mic for what we THOUGHT was the last time, I found their last studio offering, 2001’s Thelma (EP) at a dingy little thrift store in Ventura, CA. The cover of this album housed a layer of funk so bad it emitted a murky cloud on its travel from shelf to turntable, but this was the Murder City Devils, and its physical filth only seemed to add to the band’s grimy (in an exceptionally good way) persona.
They’ve since recorded 2014’s The White Ghost Has Blood on Its Hands Again which, until researching for this post, I had no idea even existed. The checklist has just been updated.
It’s Hard to Be Smart When You’re Young
Drunk, angry and musically talented muggs who eat steel and drink gasoline should always be given a record contract. If indisputable evidence is indeed required, take a look at Empty Bottles, Broken Hearts, the 1998 release on Sub Pop by Seattle’s best, The Murder City Devils. Featuring the lumbering truck driver blues of every red-blooded fornicator who ever shoved a quarter into a vibrating jukebox, and back when bullying said jukebox actually meant something, MSD’s Ready for More was seldom, however overtly, and incorrectly overlooked.
Left dormant and dingy amongst the filth and cold of my former Milwaukee winter days, The Murder City Devils seldom tend to resurface when things get a bit too heavy to bear. So, imagine my delight when I unconsciously find myself in the throes of another MSD bender, where the reigning cries of “I’m subtle, subtle like a T-Rex” knock the framed photos off my neatly painted walls. I shouldn’t necessarily be surprised, but every once and a while I’m caught off guard.
The Murder City Devils would have gotten a much more respectable write-up, had I not been served so much soul-cleansing rye. Perhaps next time, respect will prevail, but then again, that may be the whisky talking.
The Obits are Coming
Remove your shoes and press your slacks, because the Obits are coming. Mow the lawn, water the dog, lift those weights and stretch those marks, because the Obits are coming. Swallow those pills, eat red meat and feed your Id, because the Obits are coming.
Get your beauty rest. Ignore the lavish temptation for gluttonous entertainment. It will only thicken your senses. Keep your eyes to the ground and your ears pealed, because the day will soon be upon us. Not you, me, the guy trying to score at the 7-Eleven; not the struggling schoolteacher, the web designer’s fiancé, or even your grandmother’s cat will escape unscathed.
The Obits are coming… and I blame you.
The Prudent Groove 