Showing posts with label R.I.P.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label R.I.P.. Show all posts

05 October 2016

HICKEY


It just says Lost HICKEY Shits, and it's in my handwriting. That's all I can tell you, because that's all I know. Sometimes you live with people and they influence you and they move you and years later they are dead and you think about them. October 5th is one of those days....every year. 


23 September 2016

TRABALHAR PARA MORRER


I honestly thought I had posted this already, perhaps because I've been listening to it so much lately, but the search window in the top left proves me wrong (again), so....here's the 1998 demo from TRABALHAR PARA MORRER. On the face, this is pretty rudimentary hardcore punk, but intensity doesn't have to come from blinding speed or complex riffs - T.P.M. have the thing that makes simple punk so hopelessly addictive. Listen to the chorus of "Bombaricados" - it's so fukkn simple, three chords walking up and walking down, but it kicks me in the ass every time I hear it. VULPESS comparisons are certainly not out of line with multiple female vocals and a jerky, urgent pace throughout, but T.P.M. have a touch more hardcore creeping into their sound. 14 track demo presented here, and in the link above you can snag their 2001 full length, released around the time they stopped, and two songs recorded a couple of years ago. See what happens when I try to find out if I have actually done a thing that I think I have done? You win, that's what happens.


18 July 2016

MISCHIEF BREW

Anyone who pays attention has likely heard about the recent passing of MISCHIEF BREW's Erik Petersen. His presence as a musician and a personality is impossible to overstate, and he will be missed terribly. MISCHIEF BREW played Berkeley last summer, and Karoline and I were for some stupid reason "too busy" or "too tired" to make it to the show. Whatever the excuse was, it seems beyond foolish today as I think about the gracious and understanding response from Erik when I wrote to say we wouldn't be seeing him....my goes out to my Philadelphia friends, and especially for Denise (and the pugs!).

Shared several years ago on The Escape, this 2009 collaboration between Erik and GUIGNOL is one of my favorite MISCHIEF BREW related releases (though The Stone Operation probably takes the cake). 


At countless SUBHUMANS and CITIZEN FISH gigs over the years (we first crossed paths on the first SUBHUMANS reunion tour in 1998), Erik would talk about how he hoped he would get to see CULTURE SHOCK someday. Not only did he see them, but he shared the stage for "Civilization Street," a track famously covered by Erik over the years. I saw this video for the first time a few hours before Karoline called my from the CULTURE SHOCK tour to tell me about Erik's death. I watched the video several more times that evening. Mimicking Dick's hand and arm motions at the 0:22 mark...still makes me smile, even with tears in my eyes. 

Philadelphia, 2011
photo: Nick Vadala


24 June 2016

NEON PISS


I posted this in the early days of The Escape....just a really (no really, a really) good demo from a new band with my pal Greg playing drums. After this demo, NEON PISS would go on to drop the best record of whatever year it came out in. I am fortunate enough to call each member pals, and I have always been genuinely pleased when I see any of them in the flesh. Last time I saw Barker, I was leaving the Fairmont Hotel in SF...walking away from a mundane day at work and seeing that head of fluffy head snoozing in his van waiting to move some rich ass motherfukkr from and/or to one place or another. We talked, and laughed...and I enjoyed his company before I went home. Trying to compartmentalize Barker's passing has been a tough one...great dude, open, gregarious, talented beyond words...just made you glad to know him every time you crossed paths - even if you just knew him casually (as I did). One of my favorite records will now and forever bring me tears...

We pull our hoods up so that all the world won't see the fear that drags our feet right back to the liquor store...
 /// 
They say there's no there here, but I know IT is in the basement spilling onto the sidewalk - IT is in the children as they scream for your blood...

01 June 2016

BRANDON CONTROL // APRIL 2005


I stayed at Brandon's place on a tour in the spring of 2005. I had met him a few years earlier, just before he moved to Richmond from North Carolina to play drums for MUNICIPAL WASTE...when he was fukkn 17...and we had crossed paths a few times since that first encounter. Solid dude, a mental punk encyclopedia rivaled by few before or since (especially if you're talking USHC), and no joke kids: that motherfukkr could PLAY*. So that afternoon in 2005, I just let Brandon make the mix tape. I already had the DIRECT CONTROL shit (can I tell you about the only time I saw DIRECT CONTROL?**), and I loved it, but watching Brandon pull out pile after pile of records...watching some kid a decade younger than me school the shit out of me on that spring afternoon while I just managed the queue and lined up the thing after the next thing after the next thing for the mix tape, knowing that we could have made twenty and Brandon STILL would have had records lined up...it's one of my fondest tour memories. And this tape is the result. Don't even know what to say about the news of Brandon's death yesterday...enjoy your friends while you can.



*In 2004 when SUNDAY MORNING EINSTEINS passed through Richmond, their drummer Anton (an absolute Swedish DBeat machine) told me "some American dude wants to have a DBeat competition with me." I laughed, because Anton is, as I mentioned, a machine. I said, "Let's get him!" and then Anton pointed at Brandon.....and I told him that Brandon might be the only dude on the continent that could beat him, and that maybe we should just have some beers and hang out. 

**I was recruited to drive a band to the airport by the organizers of ChicagoFest 2005 and I agreed. The band in question were friends, and I like to help whenever possible. Then I saw the lineup and the set times for the Sunday gig, and I realized that if I drove said band to the airport, then I would miss DIRECT CONTROL. This was not acceptable. Long story short....I gave the organizers an ultimatum: rearrange the Sunday show, or find someone else to drive said band to the airport. I mean, I ain't trying to be an ass here, but I came to see fukkn DIRECT CONTROL. Helping is one thing, but...come on. 
(Result: They rearranged the order of bands, I made the run to the airport, and I walked back into the gig as the fiercest USHC trio of the mid-'00s was taking the stage....and then I lost my shit)

10 January 2016

SEE YOU IN HELL


A repost of the cassette version of SEE YOU IN HELL's eight track rager Jed. For more than 15 years, this Czech Republic band has belted out abrasive and aggressive hardcore but shit clicked on this one, and their admiration for anthemic Japanese hardcore meshed fully with their relentless assault...the result is a short, sharp stunner.


Like most of the internet, I heard yesterday that SEE YOU IN HELL guitarist Filip Fuchs died. I was stunned, numb...a friend lost a battle to cancer that I didn't even know he was fighting. The last time we exchanged messages SEE YOU IN HELL were preparing for a SE Asian tour, something he and I had talked about several times...and a tour the band had to cancel. Better words will be written by closer friends, but Filip was a huge force, and one of the most uncompromisingly punk people I have ever met. Eternally enthusiastic, with an encyclopedic knowledge of Eastern European punk and hardcore (check Kytary A Rev, his book about '80s Czechoslovakian punk, well worth your time even if you are limited to the English notes), he was as constructively critical as we was enthusiastic and inquisitive. My heart aches for his family, his bandmates and his friends, because as hard as this is for me to digest half a world away, I know that there is a massive void in Brno today. Rest in Power, Filip....and with any luck, we will all See You In Hell.

Filip Fuchs

1) Please check a recent interview with Filip from x4298x and an older one from DIY Conspiracy
2) Find SEE YOU IN HELL here and/or here
3) Filip's band MRTVÁ BUDOUCNOST live in 2000 here
4) Tell your friends you love them. Reach out to the people you respect...they might just become your friends....





03 January 2016

LOBBY LOYDE & THE COLOURED BALLS


Burnin' Churnin' Aussie Rock 'n Roll from Lobby Loyde. I was unfamiliar before this tape passed through my hands, but these tracks have become essential since...swinging tunes with a guitar that calls to the Gibbons God as much as it forges a truly unique path, all crashing headlong into the proto punk of the Australian 1970s. Fans of STOOGES, ROSE TATTOO (for whom Loyde played bass for a short stint in '79), MC5, THE SAINTS, RADIO BIRDMAN, and so on will want to take note and then dive further into a discography that includes THE PURPLE HEARTS, THE COLOURED BALLS (I know this tape is a collection of COLOURED BALLS tracks, but you need to dig this version of "Heavy Metal Kids" before you move along any further, you'll thank me), WILD CHERRIES, and heaps more. This is why tape trading rules, my friends. Get down.



05 October 2015

HICKEY

Sometimes you live with people and they are just your roommates, and you don't actually realize what a huge influence they are having on your lives until years later. I cannot tell you how many casual conversations with Matty have etched themselves into my brain over the years, or how many life lessons I accidentally learned from by simply being in the same room while he was talking. The songs are timeless but the band was so much more than that, and anyone lucky enough to see them knows it. This tape contains just one song, and it is one of my favorite HICKEY tunes (different version than the one on the LP, for those keeping track). By far the shortest post I've ever had on The Escape, but far from the least important. RIP, dude...I can't believe it's been thirteen years.

Don't try calling...but that's the number the VGS made all the death threats to, in case you were curious. The Hawaiian Mafia too, but Aesop says that one was legitimately kinda scary, so I won't make jokes.

06 March 2015

EVERY DOG HAS HIS BLUES


In March of 1997, I got on a bus in Milwaukee and headed home to San Francisco. My head was spinning - I'd just spent three winter months with Karoline, and we had decided that she was going to relocate to the west coast and we were going to get married after only knowing each other for a few months...maybe it's easier for some ideas to seem wise when you are younger, but even blinded by young love there was an element of Chevy-Chase-about-to-jump-in-the-pool, Vacation styled "this is crazy this is crazy this is crazy" shit going on in my brain as I headed home. Many hours into the journey while chilling in the back of the Greyhound listening to my walkman and trying to ignore everyone, a vaguely punk looking dude asked me where I was headed. "San Francisco," I replied. "Cool, I'm going back to Oakland...you want a snort?" I thought (hoped) he was offering me drugs, but he (fortunately) just had a flask of whiskey and we proceeded to get quietly tipsy on the back of the bus for a few days. It was an eventful trip - stranded in a freak spring blizzard in a Wyoming hotel (technically, all of the passengers slept in the lobby because Greyhound wouldn't get us rooms), a dude getting into a physical altercation with the driver (for drinking, ironically...he clearly wasn't as stealth as we were) outside of Elko, Nevada and getting kicked off the bus in the middle of nowhere. We didn't really talk much, but I realize now that he would have had tons of stories to share, and probably could have accelerated my introduction to east bay punk by several years....but we just chilled, drank, and took comfort in knowing that we weren't the only freaks on the bus. I never saw the dude after he got off in Oakland and I continued across the bridge...and nine months later he was dead. It wasn't until the summer of 1998 when Karoline and I went to his memorial show in Oakland to see FILTH, EXODUS and GRIMPLE play in his honor that I realized what a huge force the Lucky was.


While it might be easy to dismiss this as a weird memorial post for a guy I didn't really know who died almost twenty years ago, let it be known that these tunes are fukkn sick. From the opening EBMUD track that sounds like a more punk WIPERS to the raw hardcore of NO DOGS, Lucky's output is stunning. Like a bridge from classic '80's punk/hardcore to the sound that made the East Bay famous, these bands are full of hooks and have enough teeth to rip your fukkn heart out. Relentless hardcore from FOR PEACE and NO DOGS are the clear faves for my ears, but THE LEFTOVERS, EBMUD (though, seriously, how can "Confused" be so undeniably brilliant and "Fly Into The Sky" be so really bad?), CRUMMY MUSICIANS and especially STOP THEM DOGS are classic blasts from '90s Oakland - melody and frustration combining forces to make timeless tunes. Most people outside of this area would probably never have crossed paths with any of these sounds, and thankfully Eggplant did a brilliant job of compiling and sequencing this comp to let us all know what exactly it was that we missed. Also and not for nothing: the interview clip from the Green Day tour is the best thing you will listen to all day. I can think of few better ways for someone to remember me after I'm gone than a snippet like this one. Later, dude...thanks for the whiskey.



05 October 2014

NO LESS


NO LESS should need no introduction to most. West Bay Coalition powerviolence devastation with a penchant for manic grind and song construction that was on an entirely different plane. Sure, plenty bands used samples and blatant nods to hip hop sounds and culture, but NO LESS were just advanced. The ability to play whatever weirdness popped into their heads, and an affinity for substances that kept those minds on the fringe at all times. Two demos included in one download, 1994's pro-dubbed Lesson II and a handwritten collection of self described "New Shit" from 1993. Choice tracks include "Buffalo's (sic) Stampeding," "Gin and Tonic" and the epic "Inner Lude - Just Kook Out All Over The Place." Absolute next level status.



02 November 2013

FUEL


Shouldn't need much in the way of introductions here, FUEL stand strong and powerful nearly 25 years after this tape was recorded. Two sessions, each with the same eight songs in a slightly different order, each recorded at 924 Gilman in November 1989. I personally prefer the second batch, but I quite like the idea of releasing multiple versions of songs like this. Thanks to Spencer for loaning me this tape for you to enjoy...hard to believe it's been almost a year since Sarah died.


05 October 2013

HICKEY


Maybe this should have been the post for yesterday (October 5th), since that's the day that Matty died 11 years ago. But I spent all day today (that's October 5th, at the time of typing) thinking about Matty and HICKEY and a life that seems like it was a lifetime ago, so you get these sounds and these thoughts on the 6th...unless you live in Hawai'i or Guam or some shit. These sounds come from a tape with my handwriting (LOST GOAT, HICKEY, ZZ TOP....seems about right) that was scrawled over Aesop's handwriting (ANTISCHISM, ASSFACTOR 4....also seems about right) - just instrumental rehearsal recordings of a few songs that HICKEY fans know well and a couple of deep deep cuts. In a true demonstration of changing times, I left work tonight streaming the HICKEY 12" via youtube on my employer provided smartphone while riding my bike through a city that Matty would barely recognize, just so I could drink a quart of cheap beer in front of a memorial painted in Clarion Alley. And on my way home after that quart, while "In The Beginning" was blaring out of my shirt pocket, I passed a record store and took a moment to peek inside...the look of disdain I received from the glassy eyed girl sitting out front sucking down a defiant 40oz on a warm San Francisco Saturday assured me that whatever spirit Matty embodied - even if it's not thriving, it's still here. This is the stuff that makes it all seem like it's worth it. It's all special, and it's all important. The sounds are just a footnote...

(L-R): Aesop, Karoline, Matty, Dwight. El Paso, 1996
I swear he wore that shirt for a fukkn year...

13 July 2013

ILLEGITIMATE SONS OF JACKIE O


Here's what I said about the 1990 ILLEGITIMATE SONS OF JACKIE O demo 19 years after its release:
ILLEGITIMATE SONS OF JACKIE O were a fucking bulldozer of freaked out noise every time I saw them.  This demo is equal parts tortured hardcore and drug addled psychedelic fuzz, and it is still superb 19 years later.  The SONS were from Tulsa, and started clearing rooms in the mid/late 80s...it seemed that a town that was (at the time) best known for NOTA and the Confederate Hammer Skinheads didn't take too kindly to a 6'4" rail thin weirdo spazzing out and screaming the words to "Freaked Out Hippie Queer." The weirdo was Dan Riffe, and his guitar work was from another planet (as were his vocals); just wave after wave of distorted bliss, with wailing awkward leads that would hit you in the face like a spitwad that was equal parts JIMI HENDRIX and East Bay Ray.  Their live shows were the closest thing to Land Speed Record that I will ever see, just a total assault on every thing you though you knew about punk...after getting crushed by a dozen 90 second bursts of sweat and frustration, ILLEGITIMATE SONS might deliver "Danse O' The Sun Faerie," a six minute (or longer) three note psych jam that seemed to exist for Dan to channel demons and materialize them in the form of chorus pedals and feedback while Chris and John plodded and pounded away on a dirty groove that could continue indefinitely...and I never wanted it to end.  Dan moved to Norman in '92 or so, and joined my mediocre band after we booted our self righteous singer. He was every bit as bizarre as he appeared to be and the union (and the band) didn't last long. He also fronted THE BRUTAL GARDENERS (which I was in as well) and released a brilliant solo tape as VAN GOGH'S EAR, all of which will make it onto Terminal Escape eventually. Through Dan, I discovered everything from WRETCHED and TERVEET KADET to NON...these are very important friends to have in Oklahoma, and I owe him a lot. ILLEGITIMATE SONS OF JACKIE O had a couple of vinyl releases as well, one on Dallas label Scratched Records and another one I've never been able to track down.  They look like shit, they are both amazing, but since you probably don't have them, I'll tide you over with this demo.


Today I heard that John died on the fourth of July, and I feel like I need to somehow express how important this band was. How huge it was for 19 year old me to see that weirdo John wailing away all blissed out while delivering a total avalanche of sound that fell bizarrely and inexplicably between psychedelia and hardcore. Beyond the obvious Oklahoma aspect of this band and the dudes in it, THE SONS weren't cool...but they were cool as fuck, and coming from someone well versed in the world of "not cool" this was fucking massive. I described Dan in depth in my post above, but John was the stoic being when they played, long hair obscuring any expression, half swaying and half flailing about. Maybe it's mostly due to when and where I saw the band, but their impact on me was immeasurable - and John's role as an incredibly chill dude dishing out a pulverizing low end without a shred of pretense is one to be emulated. I should not try to pretend that I was friends with John or that we had some crazy history together but, as a punk in my formative years, his presence was terribly important, especially in retrospect. Perhaps sometimes your presence is every bit as important as what you present....

This is the aforementioned 1991 Scratched Records EP. I came home tonight a reached for it immediately - flipping past IMPACT, ICONOCLAST, ICONS OF FILTH and others that were less important. I listened to it, then I listened to it again while recording it onto cassette, then I listened to it again while converting that cassette to mp3 form and scanning the artwork, and then I listened to it again while editing the tracks and preparing the material for download. This music is about being a weirdo, this music is about being outside. John Shannon was 44 years old.

07 December 2012

TORCHES TO ROME


I found out yesterday morning as I was walking into work, and even though hearing about the death of someone battling terminal illness is never a shock, the feeling of loss was instant. Sarah was more than a guitarist, was more than just a mere inspiration, and even though we didn't see each other often there was an instant void. I can see the absence on the faces of friends feeling the same thing. When Sarah did things, she did them right. No fanfare, no flag waving, no celebration - just quiet determination and pure conviction. That is her influence, and to me that is her legacy. The records are great (seriously, all of them), but the impact is so much more personal and so much more intense than a few good riffs...even when the riffs are as good as these. It's the genuine look in her eyes that tells you that everything matters, that you matter, and that what you do is important and to never stop fighting. And to never stop smiling, though I confess that one is pretty tough to pull of today. While her musical legacy is primarily associated with her life spent as Mike Kirsch, Sarah's personal legacy transcends both gender and sound. Few people in the world of DIY hardcore have been as influential, even as important as Sarah. It's an impact I honestly doubt she was fully aware of, and a level of genuine respect attained by only the most worthy...these are the things we should say to our friends while they are alive, but rarely do. Never stop fighting.



I've found myself deflated by the years defending this life led idle and we've seen the loss too many times. This life is bought and sold, the days I've dealt with blinded by the numbers piled up high beside me. They try and keep me pacified but I find you're happy and satisfied. No will or way will ever bind me to this burden to keep dissension at bay. And every day I fight myself, tried and tired but moving forward. Where do we go from here? Not down.
"Life Led Idle"

04 April 2012

PLUTOCRACY


Fuck. PLUTOCRACY was in a league (and often a world) all their own. Death metal weaned on powerviolence and genuine disenfranchisement, perhaps no band personified a scene the way that PLUTO did. Redwood City...fuck. Inadvertently self relegated to mere cult status, these dudes have influenced countless bands, blown countless minds and smoked a little bit of weed in the process. Most of their vinyl releases and plenty of other West Bay Coalition artifacts can be found on the Doomryderz blog, but here is 1990's Progress? demo - a steamroller.

Vinnie called me yesterday to let me know that Kindred aka Stinkweed passed away. Few lived life at maximum volume the way he did - and virtually no one riffed harder. PLUTOCRACY, KALMEX & THE RIFFMERCHANTS, SHADOW PEOPLE, GO LIKE THIS, TORTURE UNIT, BULLSHIT EXCUSE, SHADOW PEOPLE and many others. People come and go, but this one is irreplaceable. 

07 August 2011

JOE YAMANAKA, R.I.P.


Akira "Joe" Yamanaka was the vocalist for the insanely influential Japanese psych outfit FLOWER TRAVELLIN' BAND, and 1971's Satori is without a doubt one of the most groundbreaking and unique records that can possibly be lumped into that genre. His vocals are unparalleled, and held up perfectly when I was lucky enough to see them in 2009...when they played the songs from that record in their entirety. This footage is amazing, even if only set to the studio recording - an incredible voice. His lung cancer was made public last year, and his death was announced today. 

02 April 2011

CRINGER


It's ironic that it took me until I was an adult to appreciate the eternal teenage enthusiasm and energy of Lance Hahn's music. It was never angry enough for me, it never made me want to break stuff, so I dismissed it as sappy bullshit. Then, sometime after I passed 30, it just clicked. The music wasn't sappy - it was just honest - and I started devouring J CHURCH and Lance's band that came before them, CRINGER. Knowing the man certainly helped, the pure and youthful energy that was always present in the songs (even, or especially, the sad ones) was always front and center with Lance, and you could feel it from the moment you met him. The guitar and the heart can indeed be worn proudly on the sleeve, and Lance proved it over twenty years of writing, playing and recording. Oh yeah, he also started (and almost completed) the definitive book on UK anarcho bands - just in case you felt like dismissing him as a pop punk hack (like I did). This isn't an anniversary or a special day or anything, I just came across this tape and spent my afternoon listening to CRINGER and J CHURCH, and I wish that Lance was still around. This demo is from 1986, just after CRINGER relocated to Los Angeles from Hawaii, and I think that I'll just lift a phrase from the first sentence to describe it: eternal teenage enthusiasm. Something to strive for, I suppose.


05 October 2010

HICKEY


This is HICKEY in 1995, a pre-LP greatest hits juggernaut recorded live on WFMU in East Orange, New Jersey pleading for shows, places to sleep and attention. "Greatest Hits" might be a bit of a misnomer, since they played virtually these same songs nearly every time I saw them during this period, and these may well have been the only songs they knew (though "El Farolito" is conspicuously absent from this set - perhaps HICKEY thought them Jersey folks wouldn't really grasp the importance of a good burrito at 4am). The (in)famous and as-yet-still-unreleased Live In Mobile Home Alabama was recorded shortly after this radio show, and when they made it home a few weeks later, they ruled the neighborhood - by accident or by design is up for debate. Karoline was with them on this tour, her second adventure with HICKEY in less than a year (she married me, clearly she has a penchant for smelly boys and questionable life choices), she said that after their on-air pleas for accommodations were unsuccessful, they pulled the van into the WFMU parking lot and slept the sweaty night away. The next morning while Aesop was puttering around the lot, campus security shooed him away saying "You can't sell your fruit here, you have to leave!" I still miss Matty's uncanny ability to make you feel like things matter, even when you knew full well that they don't....

03 October 2010

R.I.P. Mark Sheehan


OUT COLD have been criminally under appreciated since their inception more than 20 years ago. Through a gauntlet of guitarists and bass players, Mark and John have managed to create some of the purest hardcore I've heard - Goodbye Cruel World is an absolute masterpiece. I met Mark only once, when I was on tour with friends of his from Finland; soft spoken, nice and reserved, zero attitude whatsoever. He was 41 years old, way too young, and he will be missed.

03 May 2010

FLIPVILLE


This record/toy/junk store was across the street from the bar where I worked in Milwaukee, and I stopped in often. For months I would just marvel at the STUFF, it was one of the stores where you have to walk sideways to get from Point A to Point B, just piles of shit everywhere and gem after gem buried in those piles, so you know it's worth looking through but you just don't know if you have the time or the gusto to dig in. Everything was overpriced...like WAY overpriced, so I just kinda treated it like a bizarre dump museum and looked through shit, occasionally buying a $10 UK punk single here and there. One day I found something I really wanted (THE DRONES "I Just Wanna Be Myself") but it was marked at $20 and that was just silly, so I turned to the proprietor, a 50ish gray bearded long haired and excessively disheveled fellow, and asked "Would you go any lower than $20 on this record?" He said that he would, and asked what I was thinking, "I don't want to seem rude, but I really wouldn't pay more than $10 for it," was my reply. After much silent consternation on his part (enough that I thought my 50% lowball offer had pissed him off) he said, "I really couldn't go any lower than $8 on that one." $10 later and out the door, I started thinking about all the expensive records I had passed up in that store, and the next day started attacking those punk/new wave boxes hard. Geoff got nicer (well, he was always nice, he was just socially awkward and a rather imposing physical specimen), and I started giving him money - lots of money - in exchange for killer fucking records. A large portion of the gems in my collection came from that store, and my friends bought the ones that I missed (how was I supposed to know that a Version Sound press of Cows And Beer was in the fucking "Locals" box mixed with a bunch of soul/R&B 45s for $40?!).  Stores like Flipville are a dying breed; they rate zero in the customer service department, but they put the adventure in the hunt, and these are the dudes with the stories, not the computer collectors just looking for the next flip. 

I found out last weekend that Geoff passed away. He hadn't felt well for a while, but put off going to the doctor because doctor visits are not pleasant, and by the time he did the cancer was everywhere...he died a few months later. When I talked to another record store owner in the neighborhood, he said that Geoff had family and a few trusted friends going through everything and sorting the trash from the treasure. Knowing what an ordeal this would be, Geoff spent his last months making lists of what was what and where it was. But more importantly, knowing that collectors are all too often scumbags and leeches, he made a list of questionable characters who might offer their services to family members trying to sort through the stuff. The list was headlined: "DON'T TRUST THESE SLEAZEBALLS." Like my friend said to me on the phone, "You can get away with a lot when you are dead." 

Here's the write up from the Express Milwaukee website: A Eulogy For Stinky, and the last line of the obit that ran in the Journal is fukkn brilliant: "Please honor his life with your own celebration; have a party, watch the sun rise, go fishing, or spin some vinyl." We should all be so lucky...