Gotta say, I'm sort of stunned by the range and caliber of the compact discs routinely turning up in thrift stores these days. It seems hard to believe that, I don't know, K Records, Nonesuch and Luaka Bop discs are all just hanging around together with Bjork and Radiohead in the 2 dollar bargain bins. Not that I need 'em. And maybe that's just Portland. Is it this way everywhere? And, don't get me wrong-- I totally TOTALLY get that blogspot, file sharing, iTunes, etc have rendered these plastic packages functionally obsolete. Once uploaded, a disc basically destined to gather dust or live on as a coffee coaster. Maybe this is my 30+, Andy Rooney side beginning to take root. I just can't help but wonder, will CDs eventually go the way of cassettes today, and become retrospectively cool in, say 20 years?
So anyway, I found this Action Patrol disc at the Goodwill the other day. I live in Portland, OR, but AP were my other favorite local punk band from yonder high school days back in southeast VA. My skater-dude friends and I even put on their second to last show at the roller rink in my hometown. It was awesome. Admittedly, I hardly listen to much of anything that involves hardcore/screaming these days. That shit just works by nerves. Action Patrol & Mens Recovery Project, however, both get a pass from me. Oh, lets add Bad Brains, Minor Threat and The Nation of Ulysses to that list. Local sentiment, I know, but that's just how it is. Or maybe its digging a semblance of iconoclastoc wit over boring meathead hardcore posturing. Hmmm. And, ok, I'm down too with a lot of those early SST & Homestead bands, not to mention The Wipers, Negative Approach, The Zero Boys, Naked Raygun, etc. Plenty of room to expand, though hardly worth it right here. Anyway, after copping this here RVA throwback, I just had to up & share it. Ready or not. 320 kbps. Word.
Nathaniel Rappole, aka Gull, has been steady mystifying RVA and beyond with his masked one-man guitar/drum rhythm spectacle. His live act is truly something to behold, and Nate's been known to take it to the streets with a gusto and relentlessness foiled only by the occasional local police. Gull's first proper release was the Thin King 7" released by Molsook Records in 2010 (*downloadable here), but Nate's put out plenty as a member of Snack Truck and Ultra Dolphins as well. He's also one of the nicest dudes. Check it....
Gull on PBS:
And scope this local news spot. Gull's playing the sidewalk in front of Plan 9 Music (former employer of mine) in Carytown...
So, Nate has lavished me with an unreleased and ethereal home-recorded Gull cassette that is an honor to share. It appears to represent Gull's more contemplative side; subliminal and spooky. Great stuff & quite different from the links above. Says he:
"this recording was made over the course of a couple of days in january 10'. i used only what i had in my room at the time, with the exception of 1 porch item. everything was recorded with a dictaphone (ie small tape recorder) and then transferred as was/is into the digital realm by a good friend." -N.R.
we are the writ. we are the weird water wasteland of the americas, the water shed. long spears of waste and bile, baleen and tropical dust. 1 day after the (____) of the gulf's explosion into fossil fuelic infamy, i will name my horse g r e y g o l d. her tomb will read "food water animal. carried the children of millions of children during the drought. a good friend."
for the taking
my life is topical. by way of touch i have managed to feel my way into my 30's. how is this possible? hardly any thought had to go into the act of surviving this long. still, here i am, now old enough to think back on my childhood and adolescence with that trick of the brain that holds the past in such high regard that the present pales by comparison. the bite is in me. it is in you. it is in the yesterborn and aftermorrow marrow. mohave green nostalgia transmutation. my life is (____). *something true: i went to the desert. alone. *something false: i am a woman.
i have known women
in my native land (_____). my blood is that of many places. hers too. so is hers. beat the grackle with a fist shaped wing and give her back the conundrum. give it and beat it into blood.
your language is d e a d
dear hopi, your children will never taste with their own tongues, for they have been stripped from their mouths by strange white stains. (_____) and no one cares.
1 year anniversary
we are the writ. we are the weird water wasteland of the americas, the water shed. long spears of waste and bile, baleen and tropical dust. 1 day after the (____) of the gulf's explosion into fossil fuelic infamy, i will name my horse g r e y g o l d. her tomb will read "food water animal. carried the children of millions of children during the drought. a good friend."
for the taking
my life is topical. by way of touch i have managed to feel my way into my 30's. how is this possible? hardly any thought had to go into the act of surviving this long. still, here i am, now old enough to think back on my childhood and adolescence with that trick of the brain that holds the past in such high regard that the present pales by comparison. the bite is in me. it is in you. it is in the yesterborn and aftermorrow marrow. mohave green nostalgia transmutation. my life is (____). *something true: i went to the desert. alone. *something false: i am a woman.
i have known women
in my native land (_____). my blood is that of many places. hers too. so is hers. beat the grackle with a fist shaped wing and give her back the conundrum. give it and beat it into blood.
your language is d e a d
dear hopi, your children will never taste with their own tongues, for they have been stripped from their mouths by strange white stains. (_____) and no one cares.
