Tag Archives: vinyl

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Some Gilded Treasures Should Remain Buried

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Black n RedContained below is lost debris found amongst the sea of filth that is my PG work folder. I have no idea as to its context, nor what groovy slab inspired such nonsensical ramblings, but when you’re in a hurry, anything seems plausible. (If you need a music suggestion for today, check out Rocket from the Crypt’s Hot Charity, or Tool’s Ænima. I’ve been stuck under an angry cloud as of late, and it seems my trusty umbrella has abandoned my side.)

There is something to be said about someone who can go from Beethoven’s 8th Symphony, to Thunderheist’s Jerk It 12”, to Harry Nilsson’s Pandemonium Shadow Show, to Rudimentary Peni’s Cacophony without the shimmering blink of an eye. What that something is, may be lost on the likes of me, but sometimes the logic breaks down in an extremely logical way. Get what I’m throwing down? No? Neither do I. If that’s the case, then you and I should be friends, or at least pen pals (suggested by someone who has never owned a pen).

Dig what you dig, and don’t listen to anyone who thinks they know what they’re talking about because, realistically, nobody really does. Take me for example. I enjoy annoying my neighbors, so much so that I create “neighbor annoy” playlists for my mid-day weekend adventures. Are they annoyed as I feel they SHOULD be, probably not. But does it make me happy none-the-less? You bet your ass!

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Realistic Anti-Static Record Protector AKA Ziploc Bags for Your Records

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RASRPStatic can be a bitch… a real, conniving, backstabbing, drop you off on the side of the road with nothing more than a toothbrush and an empty matchbook, leaving you to fend for yourself against the screaming locals of Ventura County, bitch. You catch what I’m saying. We’ve all been there. So do yourself and your future, Detroit-raised children a favor and invest in plastic, resealable bags for all your records! Realistic Anti-Static Record Protectors aren’t just for the “good” records (AKA your Tammy Wynette discography). Every groovy slab is worthy of protection, and with modern day technology, that dream has become Realistic.

What do I keep in my Realistic Anti-Static Record Protector? German Sing-Along with Will Glahe, of course! Does that question even need to be asked? Beware of static, kids! Protection… because if our parents had used it, none of us would be here.Zipped and Locked

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Describe, Desire, Defile, Deny

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Pencil CrassI have very little time this morning (which unsurprisingly turned into late evening), so I’m going to get right to the point. Crass. That’s my point. To sum up something as historically imperative as Crass would be beyond devastating… so here goes: Dangerously accurate art punk done right.

Because I know the majority of you don’t care for in-your-face social snarls, here is a less than typical Crass song called, Walls (Fun in the Oven). No jabs at the Queen, declarations of a corrupt system, or stiff middle fingers saluting traditional moral values (there may be a hint of that). Roughly, Walls is a thick, spoon-fed helping of the conformist “rule” that husband + wife + baby = happiness. Enjoy!

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(Let’s Talk) Physical

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Physical CoverThe obnoxiously soothing b-side to the Olivia Newton John cover of (Let’s Get) Physical by the Revolting Cocks is a marathon listen. Clocking in at 10:08, this monster of a patience builder is little more than an irate, mechanical loop set off to offend everyone, up to and including the most devoted RevCo fans… at a seemingly endless coil of 10, nauseating, industrial minutes…

Physical BackI’m in love with this song. It offers somewhat of a calming experience, not unlike the way Philip Glass’ Einstein on the Beach provides its monotonous, brilliant beauty. I’ve included the track for you (to struggle through) to enjoy, so you can get a sense of what Chicago’s industrial scene was like in 1989.

Not unlike drinking straight vinegar, or putting hot sauce on your morning toast, (Let’s Talk) Physical, and the Revolting Cocks as a whole, are certainly acquired tastes. This isn’t a song I’d spin as often as let’s say, The Kinks’ Animal Farm, but its function of knocking me out of any given dry, laborious day, at 10-minute intervals, is a rare and welcoming treat.

 

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Blues on the Ceilin’

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Hardin CoverThere is something distinctly haunting that unjustly fills the room when I listen to the fortuitous desperation that surrounds Tim Hardin when he sings the lyrics, “I’ll never get out of these blues alive” on the Fred Neil classic, Blues on the Ceilin’ from Tim’s 1963 recorded, 1967 released (third) album, This is Tim Hardin. For you see, he didn’t. Escape those blues, that is. Mr. Hardin, my current crutch, passed on December 29, 1980. The cause of his untimely death? The blues… in the form of diacetylmorphine.

Other monumental iconic phrases from this track are:

– I’d do it all over, but I’d rather not

– Love is just a dirty four-letter word to me

– The bitter the blues, the better they keep

– The toast was cold, the orange juice was hot

White. Boy. Blues. As prolific an oxymoron as it is, has its fair share of respectable highlights. Tim Hardin isn’t known for his blues-driven ways (and that’s painfully unfortunate), but instead, for his often covered and heart-tuggingly sweet If I Were a Carpenter.

BluesWhen I drink whiskey, alone, I subconsciously gravitate towards Tim Hardin. Like a beaming source of intellectual and soul-bearing light, Mr. Hardin asks only one favor of us while we enjoy his personal blues-documenting catalog, and the favor is that we must share in this man’s heartfelt dismay. Pain manifests itself in many forms, up to and including a soulful voice accompanying sincerity projecting from the blackened heart.

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NO F-X

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NO F-X CoverBack when NOFX was NO F-X, the now prolific and household-recognizable band was signed to Mystic Records. In early 1985, then again in 1986, NO F-X released their first two EPs for the label (NO F-X and So What If We’re on Mystic). Both EPs, along with a bunch of early demo tracks (1988’s The Album) made their way, without the band’s permission, to the 1989 comp, E is for Everything, then again to the exact same comp (with a different name), 1992’s Maximum Rocknroll.

NO F-X VinylThe version featured here is a reissue of a reissue of a reissue, and was promptly released in 2008. Not that any of this matters, because, like it should, the music speaks for itself. Stripped of the tongue-in-cheek humor the band is now known for, these 22 tracks are much more straightforward, dirty hardcore punk rock. Fans of the band’s later material (Ribbed, Punk in Drublic, Heavy Petty Zoo) who haven’t stumbled across this gem may hear it and not know it was NOFX (or, NO F-X).

These poorly recorded, poorly played songs have a certain charm and angry grace that inevitably gets abandoned when money and opportunity get in the way. In that regard, Maximum Rocknroll is a great collection of classic hardcore by a much younger, haven’t-yet-made-it NOFX, and is worth seeking out. I guarantee it.

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Me & Julie Down by the Bowling Alley

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Me First CoverEvery so often the (pitcher beer ordering) mood for late 90s pop punk versions of mid 70s radio hits rolls down the cherry wood lane of life and lands a perfect strike (phew… that came desperately close to being a run-on sentence… I miss those).  Times like this, it’s comforting (although not really) to know Me First and the Gimme Gimmes is good for a round, and some damn good classic covers.

This, their first full-length released on Fat Wreck Chords back in 1997, features pop punk-ified versions of John Denver, Kenny Loggins, Paul Simon, Billy Joel, Neil Diamond and some other hit-making individuals of considerable musical talent. Covers, not unlike Social Security, are the third rail of musical politics. On one hand, paying homage to a classic can be somewhat of a respectful gesture, but on the other hand, these lazy, talentless bastards could just be riding the coattails of other, more innovative artists. Lucky for all involved with today’s post, Me First and the Gimme Gimmes is comprised of a lucrative series of already established bands, so the results are smooth and well produced.

Me First VinylAllow me to introduce you to the band:

Vocals: Spike Slawson (of the Swingin’ Utters)

Lead Guitar: Chris Shiflett (of No Use for a Name and Foo Fighters… in that order, the order of importance)

Rhythm Guitar: Joey Cape (of Lagwagon)

Bass: Fat Mike (of NOFX fame, also the owner and operator of Fat Wreck Chords)

Drums: Dave Raun (of Lagwagon)

A pop-punk all-star band if ever there was one, Me First is deserving of a listen from fans of that 70s drawl, and bay area pop-punk. Now, set up those bumpers and let’s go bowling (courtesy of The Prudent Groove Lanes Across America Bowling League*).

*Does not exist

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Scooby Dooby-Doo, Y’all

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Scooby Doo CoverThe year was 1994, and oh what an awkward and transformable year it was. Allow me to paint a 20-year-old picture using swift, roomy strokes if I may. In those days, I occupied the basement of my parents’ suburban homestead. I shared my first quasi-studio apartment with a blow-up mattress for a bed, ripped out Snowboard Magazine pages taped to plastic sheets covering the rows and rows of canary yellow insulation, a loud and obnoxious hot water heater that would wake me up in the middle of the night in a dead panic, and of course, my adorable mother popping down every half hour to painstakingly adhere to the family laundry. My “bedroom” throughout the duration of my high school days was a labyrinth of new and exciting music, and at the time, few syncopated sounds were more otherworldly (for a suburban white kid living in the rural Midwest) than Los Angeles’ own, Cypress Hill.

As a gullible and easily impressionable youth, anything that wasn’t early 90s country radio (or the overly played and equally obnoxious doobs of the grunge scene) grabbed my conformed and sheltered ear. Jane’s Addiction, Onyx, Beastie Boys, Operation Ivy, Ministry, Vacuum Scam, and The Pharcyde all became rhythmically projected voices, representing the outside world; a world I knew nothing about, but that which promised gilded and painful excitement.

Scooby Doo BackCypress Hill’s first two albums are critically flawless. Fans of Tim McGraw and those still clinging to Pearl Jam may have a different (and mortally incorrect) opinion. On the We Ain’ Goin’ Out Like That single, which is really more of an EP, there featured a song that was released exclusively to this release. This song, the opus of my youth, and a song my friends and I still quote on a weekly bases, is Scooby Doo. No mysteries are solved during the three minutes and 39 seconds of this epic story, and nobody utters the icon phrase “jinkies” (at least in English). Instead, Scooby Doo is a bass-heavy, skull-vibrating anthem covering themes of street confrontations and the ultimate and fatal error of crossing that forbidden line in the sand. It was, at the time, a force so strong, we’d play it on as many different stereos as we could to see whose rig had the biggest bass. Lancer Dancer is the legendary champ on all counts of said experiment (his mobile speaker system would knock you up side the head and inject a subtle, but piercing ringing sensation, both pleasing and a bit sobering).

Scooby Doo, if only for me, and a modest core group of friends, is 1000 times more legendary than Stairway to Heaven, and will forever live as the biggest, most atrocious bass-tastic song I’ve ever had the distinct pleasure of experiencing.Doo

You’d aroun’ da way, mang… I know where chu at!

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How to Make Your Husband A Sultan

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SultanTreat yourself to the quiet desperation of Özel Türkbas’ How to Make Your Husband A Sultan and majestically transform the stale, white bread dullness of your “after hours” marriage into an international world brimming with tantalizing temptation, rhythmic finger cymbals, and salty body gyrations sure to set the neighborhood hens in full cackle. Because, after all, isn’t your husband worthy of Sultan status? Mr. Jones has Sultan status, and aren’t you trying desperately to keep up with the Joneses?

Sultan BackSomeone may have said somewhere (if only in my mind), “For man is not capable of achieving Sultan status by his own means. It takes the alluring hips of his half-dressed wife awkwardly contorting herself into a chiropractor’s appointment to allow the man to reach true Sultan stature.” Wives, be submissive to your husbands, and allow Özel Türkbas’ to show you the way.

Complete with a seven page How to Make Your Husband A Sultan Belly Dance Instruction Booklet, the ease and eventual rewards of metamorphasizing yourself into a seductive, Sultan-pleasing siren is conveniently broken down into easy, step-by-step (not the cheesy 90s sitcom starring Patrick Duffy) illustrations that are easy to understand, and painful to emulate.Instructions

Your husband deserves the best. He deserves the social rank of a certified Sultan, and with Özel Türkbas’ How to Make Your Husband A Sultan, you can turn his nonsensical dream into a reality.

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… And Now, Mr. Serling

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TZoneIn honor of the Twilight Zone marathon my SO and I are currently feeding to our 2014 heads (along with sushi grade salmon and tuna), I offer an instrumental suggestion that lies between the pit of man’s fears, and the summit of his knowledge… but you know, conducted by Jerry Goldsmith for the 1983 classic, Twilight Zone The Movie.

Its unfortunate Mr. Serling, one of my all-time favorite writers, wasn’t alive for the making of this film. I can’t help but feel his involvement would have helped yield a much more substantial big screen result, mirroring that of the stunning television series. Rest in piece, Mr. Serling, and thank you for creating one of the more creative and thought provoking shows ever produced

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… Getting Ready to Sing Auld Lang Sine Out of Tune

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The PlanAs we struggle to gasp for the last remaining breaths of 2013, few certainties remain that remind us just how far the sailing ship of man has yet to trek. 1) People will continue to ignore their wailing car alarms at 4am, 2) that strengthening divide between wonder and disdain will persistently drift further apart and 3) if you don’t believe The Ice of Boston by The Dismemberment Plan to be the quintessential New Year’s Eve song, then you are the poster child for our collective lack of progress.

The Ice of Boston perfectly captures that self-reflecting social collapse that pits us squarely in the face of our central, unabashed core. There is no escaping this chamber of truth, and though the bulk of us spend a series of lifetimes attempting to ignore and dismiss our gut reactions, we seldom ever completely dissolve our issues by year’s end, and go along in celebrating another 365 steps closer to death. Sometimes it’s healthy to abandon hope with the ringing in of a new year, and sometimes our mental metamorphosis can create lucrative opportunities we may not have otherwise perceived.

The Plan never released The Ice of Boston on vinyl, which is indeed an unfortunate reality. The single off their 1997 album, The Dismemberment Plan is Terrified, The Ice of Boston EP (on compact disc) remains the sole release by the band on Interscope Records, and is without question a necessity amongst any serious music collector.

If you haven’t heard the track, make it numero uno on your 2014 list of overly-ambitious resolutions. You can find it easily enough on youtube or download it on iTunes for only $0.99. Whether you’re from the east coast of Sri Lanka or North America, the ice of wherever can, and usually will be dark and slippery.

Here’s to another goddamn new year!

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Melodic Repetition, Melodic Repetition

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SMD CoverHave you ever wanted to live inside an 80s, cutting edge tech film? Well, you can’t. Sorry to break the bad news, but k’mon… let’s hitch a ride back to reality, shall we? Don’t worry, I’ll cover your bus fare. Simian Mobile Disco’s 2008 EP, Clock is something straight out of War Games, or any other Mathew Broderick movie loosely involving 1980s DOS-based operating systems. Melodic repetitions unfolding in waves of hip-gyrating force throughout four catch-tastic dance favorites… what more could you ask for? No, really, what do you want? I’m serious, because I certainly have no idea what you people listen to.

SMD BackI was fortunate enough to catch SMD here in LA a few years back at a HARD fest. There were a lot of people, but the music was loud, so everybody went home a winner. This is more a confession to myself, but I don’t know why I stopped listening to electro. I’ve never been a dancer, but have always enjoyed hard-hitting, and filthy dirty programmed beats. SMD flirts with the dirty side of electro, but falls short when considering them next to MOTOR and / or Boys Noize. Clock however, is certainly worth a listen, especially on a Monday morning a day before the end of the year.

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Survival of the Fattest

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FatCertain albums carry unintentional weight heavy enough to destroy the basic foundation of a listener’s musical experience.  Survival of the Fattest, the 2nd of the Fat Wreck Chords comps serves as one (of maybe a handful) of these crucial albums. Timing is everything… be it love, a career, no lines at your local record shop on Record Store Day, and what is deemed important say, in 1996 (when this album was released), wouldn’t necessarily wear the same badge of importance as it does in 2013.

Fat BackYou see, I was a budding teen when I acquired this album (of the compact disc persuasion at the 1996 Vans Warped Tour in Milwaukee), and its function as a concrete door-opening battering ram unleashed a lifetime of new and exciting music both directly and indirectly involving the 14 bands contained within it. My love affair with NOFX, albeit cooled to a slight simmer these days, was solidified with this album. The same goes for Me First and the Gimme Gimmes, Lagwagon, Propagandhi, Good Riddance and a personal favorite, Strung out… essentially the soundtrack to my late teen years. From there, I would go on to collect any and everything NOFX-related (I’m still searching for 1994’s Don’t Call Me White 7”, although I’m not sure I’d really listen to it much these days), every Lagwagon album and 7″, and any colored vinyl reissue of early, classic Fat albums (mainly Propagandhi, Lagwagon and Good Riddance). I can either blame Survival of the Fattest, for this neverending quest of obtaining the “perfect” collection, or I can thank it for opening my eyes. I haven’t necessarily made up my mind yet.

(A few side notes: 1) This album holds so much adolescent importance that I bought a second, sealed copy just in case my first copy scratches or up and walks away. 2) This was also the album my buddy and I were listening to when we totaled his father’s 1988 Monte Carlo SS. Oh, how impressionable young minds can be.)

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Just the Good Ol’ Boys

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Hazzard FrontThere seems to have always been trouble a’brewin’ in Hazzard County. Uncle Jesse must have been puttin’ something wacky in that moonshine of his because there appears to be a lot more trouble in Hazzard than in any other county south of the Mason Dixon. Lucky for the good ol’ folks of Hazzard (and TV Land circa: 1981), two modern day Robin Hoods by the names of Bo and Luke Duke were always in the right place at the right time to thwart potential evildoers. Granted, more times than not, it was the Duke boys causin’ all the ruckus, but when picking the lesser of two evils, it helps to have a badass muscle car to tip the odds. With corrupt politicians, wayward cops, and the occasional out of town bandit, the down-home citizens of Hazzard would find themselves in quite the sticky predicament if it weren’t for Bo, Luke, Daisy and Uncle Jesse. Moonshine may be outlawed in Hazzard County, but sometimes it takes an outlaw to set the law straight.

Hazzard BackThe Dukes of Hazzard was my very first “favorite” television show (fitting, considering it’s basically a show about bootlegging moonshine). For me, the classics Fraggle Rock and HBO’s Braingames would follow in the 1969 Dodge Challenger sized Hazzard wake. Classic country, classic cars (often crashing and running into things… no wonder I used to draw muscle cars with smashed front ends as a kid… again, fitting if you know me), and the good ol’ “don’t let the bad guys get away with it” motif. What’s not to love, I ask you?!

Featured on this time capsule of a comp is Johnny Cash, The Hazzard County Boys, the vocal talents of Bo, Luke, and Daisy Duke (John Schneider, Tom Wopat, and Catherine Bach), and of course, Rosco Purvis Coltrane (played by the unforgettable James Best). For fans of the show, owning this album is a no-brainer. For casual Hazzard watchers, pour yourselves a mason jar full of your favorite brown or clear liquor, and leave the rest up to the Dukes of Hazzard County.

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It’s Beat Time, it’s Hot Time, it’s Monk Time!

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Black TimeNow that the holidays are over (New Years isn’t so much a holiday as yet another excuse to party in excess), we can return to normal ramblings geared towards “real” music. You’ve gotta’ love the holidays, but man did I overdo it this year on the holiday ear candy.

I’ll try to get through this as quickly as possible, as I can’t help but assume you are still enjoying awkward family time. For the past four or so years, December has come to mean a few things: 1) the smog is down, 2) due to the mass number of LA transplants, there is a yearly exodus which leaves the streets clean and clear for the rest of us, and 3) for whatever reason, it’s Monk Time.

Black Time BackWhat is this Monk Time, you ask? Well, Curious Carl (not to be confused with Cowboy Curtis), Monk Time is that very special time of year when the inner monster craves the Earth-shattering sound of the original anti-Beatles. This sheer, rabid dog approach to 1965’s rock n’ roll was light-years ahead of its time, and although they only released one album (in Germany in 1966), these Five Upstart Americans (soldiers as they were) broke the mold with their inventive brand of cathartic, yet surprisingly melodic music. The Monks could be considered garage rock, if that garage were engulfed in flames and moments away from collapsing on itself threatening the lives of everyone within a three-house radius. If you’ve heard of the Monks, this is certainly not news, but if you haven’t, watch the documentary Transatlantic Feedback, and bug your local record store until they acquire for you a copy of Black Monk Time. Certain bands demand attention for their historic significance, and the Monks certainly fit that bill. I’m still in the market for my (obviously) reissue of Black Monk Time (originals go for over $600), but for now I’ll settle for the repackaged and almost identical 2011 release, Black Time.

Although the holidays may be over (and thank God for that… I did it to myself, I really shouldn’t complain… but I will), its rightful owners, the Monks, can once again reclaim December.The Monks Logo

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Cats for Christmas

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Christmas CatThere is only one thing better than the glorious excitement of Christmas morn, and that is, of course, a mother lovin’ cat wrapped in a box!! Leroy Anderson is a man of impeccable taste; this fact is certainly not up for debate. As the back sleeve proudly proclaims, “altogether this is an unusual collection brilliantly interpreted.” I’m seldom one for shameless self-promotion (he laughs out loud), but this assessment of Leroy Anderson’s fine orchestral conducting is the perfect blend of classic Christmas sentiment and celebratory holiday cat-friendly cheer.

The Prudent Groove wishes everyone a wonderland of holiday hilarity filled with lighthearted liveliness and mistletoe smooching merriment. Merry Christmas, everyone!

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The Best Worst Christmas Album Ever Produced AKA The Worst Best Christmas Album Ever Produced

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Christmas in the StarsThe odds against Christmas being Christmas

Is 365 to 1

Where to begin… Christmas in the Stars is nothing short of an exhaustive, and thorough disaster. This album makes the destruction of Alderaan look as trivial as spilled blue milk. Released in 1980, this Ishtar-like running gag features Anthony Daniels as C-3PO, a series of random beeps as R2-D2, a full freakin’ orchestra, and of course, John Bongiovi, AKA Jon Bon Jovi on lead vocals, because, you know, nothing says “let’s go save the princess” like Bad Medicine.

Everyone will have a cookie

I brought extra for the Wookie

Christmas CreditsProduced by Meco (yes, THAT Meco), and co-produced by Tony Bongiovi, Jon Bon’s cousin, Christmas in the Stars takes the colorful world of Star Wars (then only two films), coerces it with a shiny piece of candy, and takes it out back to beat it senseless with a pillow case full of D batteries. What Can You Get A Wookie for Christmas (When He Already Owns A Comb?) is not only a genuine track from this album, IT’S ALSO THE SINGLE! Man, would I have LOVED to have been a fly on the wall during these pitch meetings. “Uh, yes Mr. Lucas. Thank you for taking the time to meet with us today. We all loved Empire. Brilliant film. Yes, yes. So, our idea for the Star Wars Christmas album is this… what if we have a series of non-denominational Christmas songs (see the oxymoron there?) narrated by R2 & 3PO? I hear there’s a talented young kid out of New Jersey with a great singing voice, we can get him to do the backing vocals. We could have a full symphony, utilize Ben Burtt’s amazing sound effects, and we can see if Ralph is available to do the cover. The single, are you ready… is titled, What Can You Get A Wookie for Christmas (When He Already Owns a Comb?). What do you think, George?” “Green lit. Now, pass me that tube of cookie dough. I’m in pre-production on a 2nd chin.”

The ONLY redeemable feature with regards to Christmas in the Stars is the Ralph McQuarrie painted cover (note how the 1980 Kris Kringle looks an awful lot like a 2013 George Lucas).  Christmas in the Stars is like receiving a pair of socks for Christmas every year from each of your relatives and loved ones. The anticipation far exceeds the end result, but at least your feet will be warm.

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Winter Wonderland AKA Don’t Double Cross a Double Crosser, or You’ll Wind Up in a Winter Wonderland of Death, by The Ray Charles Singers

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Winter Wonderland FrontNot to be confused with Ray Charles, the Ray Charles Singers put out a rather cozy, albeit run-of-the-mill holiday album for the winter of 1956 called, Winter Wonderland, where the music meets expectations, but the cover far exceeds them. Sure, all the hits are here (Jingle Bells, Let It Snow, etc.), but this cover, man, perfectly depicts the comfort and security of being inside with a warm, wood-burning fireplace roaring and sub-zero temperatures giving way to large flakes of devil snow outside. It’s that perfect mix of “I’m not going outside… I don’t care if the house is on fire” and “why the hell do we live in this part of the world again?”  That is… until you start to peep the couple on the other side of the large, corner window.

Touch of DeathAt first, I thought it was a touch of romance with the husband laying down and motioning his wife to join him. Upon further analysis, I’ve concluded that the woman is in fact the man’s concubine who has been double crossing on her double cross, and has poisoned the poor sod and disguised it to look like an accident. It’s the 50’s, kids. No Forensic Files. Look at the man’s body language. He’s laying flat on his back, staring straight up with a deadpan look plastered across his face. Now, look at the woman. With a slight, “I told you so” grin, she pushes the man’s hand away in his last attempt at wringing her quadruple crossing neck. Be careful out there, kids. The holidays can be deadly.

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Ambition Has its Flaws Volume 6

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Audio

It’s ANGRY CHRISTMAS here at the Prudent Groove, and to help us with our holiday jeering will be the following:

Rocket from the Crypt – Boychucker

The Dismemberment Plan – I Love a Magician

Oxford Collapse – Molasses

The Murder City Devils – Ready for More

Hot Snakes – Salton City

Defacto Oppression – It’s Not That Simple

Andrew Jackson Jihad – People II: The Reckoning

Stiff Little Fingers – Here We Are Nowhere

Chronic Sick – Mucho Macho

Slayer – Angel of Death

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AVLINNN!!!

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ChipmunksUrgency is the name of the game. Be it sped up dialogue from unknown voice actors, or last minute post writing by yours truly. As a kid growing up in the 80s (oh, how I miss the 80s), I’d solely known the Chipmunks from the animated classic, Alvin and the Chipmunks. You remember Alvin and the Chipmunks, don’t you? Do-do, dodododo! No, well… isn’t my face as red as a raging radish?!

This 1961 release from Mistletoe Records features these playful little rascals harmoniously banging out such classics as Frosty the Snowman, Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town, Up on the House Top, and many others. It’s difficult not to like the Chipmunks, but like most everything around the holiday season, they’re best kept at bay, or at the very least, in a rusted cage where they belong.