So, I had this conversation with Jarvis years ago. At the time he said he thought Cock-Now was a really great idea (something to that effect), but that its implementation was wrong, that the focus should be more music, and especially, music that doesn’t get covered as much in the mainstream media, i.e. our community. Now Cock-Now has always been about more than just music, inclusive to poetry, illustrations, cartoons, fiction, essays, & interviews of all sorts of players. But Jarvis had a point. It is a good medium to display & record what’s going on around us, so I’m going to take this opportunity to fulfill Jarv’s recommendation so many years ago, which I’ve come to realize was a great one...But Jarv, this is Cock-Now and you know I’m not gonna play it straight. Music criticism is boring, at least to me. So, these are interpretations, visions inspired by the songs, scenes I see as the songs pass me by, how the song feels...and if the vision appeals (or if not the vision, the bands name, or their picture), hopefully the reader will seek out more info on the band, and discover these diamonds in the rough.
Song: Professor Johnson
Band: The Booboniks
Album: King Boobonik
Website: http://www.myspace.com/booboniks
It’s World War II. You’re a pilot in a nose diving plane. ‘Ten four, ten four Come in Professor Johnson Professor Johnson come in Mayday Mayday ’ The radio crackles & out comes a voice, the voice of a drunken preacher: ‘& y’all can get my nuts see, because I be the nigga who cuts thee.’ You hear the voice gulp, then, babbling with the conviction of the stoned, ‘And y’all can smooch up my asshole, because I am the man yo.’ Big bang boom of a million shimmies torpedoes straight out the shower, blazin’ hymns via trumpet, tom drum, & hi-hat, as you stank to the valley of the shadow of death, with the preacher, who like Ted Berrigan, is a lot more insane than this here valley...
Song: House of Cats
Band: Meneguar
Album: I Was Born At Night
Website: www.meneguar.com
www.myspace.com/meneguar
In the middle of the desert you race to escape the prison of your skin. You want out. Out of this mess, out of your skull, out of this life. You come upon a sphinx, or at least what appears to be a sphinx from behind. The beast towers, shimmering metallic, a hundred feet high by a hundred feet wide, at least. As you move to the front you’re suddenly surrounded. A nation of children, all racing to escape the prison of their skin, hold each other, singing ‘Don’t you let us fit in, don’t let us fit in on my soul ’ All the hairs on your arms stand up. You’re levitating. What’s going on? The sphinx is not a sphinx. It’s a jaguar made of metal, a magnetic jaguar pulling you towards it.‘All hail Meneguar ’ the children scream, and the magnetic jaguars jowls crank open, swallowing you, exhilarated.
Song: I Am the One
Band: Wooden Wand & The Vanishing Voice
Album: Buck Dharma
Website: http://woodenwand.net/
www.mysapce.com/woodenwand http://www.killrockstars.com/bands/factsheets/woodenwandandthevanishingvoice/
Out here in the middle of the forest, a sacred circle outlined in dirt. A bonfire rages in the center of the circle, as stars illuminate mystic night, shedding just enough light on the darkness. Dust kicks up from deer dancing round the fire, kicking hooves in the air as two notes repeat infinity, hypnotically, through an owl playing bass with its wings. Hopi Spirits hop out the astral plane, that’s how groovy. Racoons tap out sixteenth notes on silver bells as porcupines play congas, bears shake maracas & mountain lion hits cow bell, emphasizing beats tail, as her cubs clap tiny paws along. A snake slithers in & out the deers dance, till it reaches the head of the circle, where it climbs atop the shoulders of the high priestess, singing her sermon on the milk crate: ‘I am the one I am the one, I am the one I am.’ Dozens of decapitated human heads on the ends of tree branches litter the forest like silver balls on Christmas trees as the priestess wails: ‘All thingsmust pass away, good news is coming, it’s coming today, all things must pass away.’
Song: ‘Dance Party’
Band: Dedelectric
Album: Dedelectric
Website: http://www.dedelectric.com
www.myspace.com/dedelectric
On a conveyer belt moving down the hall of mirrors robots spin round you. At the end of the conveyor belt sits a stage, & as you move towards it, 2 girls play, one bass, one keys, both singing, emotionally withdrawn, illuminating all the negative space in between, how it points to so much more . The entire scene spins on a merry go round, a satellite spinning in outer space. You’re disoriented, but pleasantly so. You’re falling backwards but it feels so nice. The robots poke you & you giggle. You giggle cause you’ve finally made it here, you’ve finally made it, to the dance party.
Song: ‘One At A Time’
Band: Rahim
Album: Jungles
Website: www.rahimrahim.org
www.myspace.com/rahim
You are being prepared to walk to your own sacrifice. You stutter, pausing for breath, and a horde of mosquitos surround you, buzzing, droning, then fly off just as suddenly. Open chords ring out, & the beat & the priests move in, serving to intensify your already not so subtle case of claustrophobia. The priests suddenly turn & break into stutter claps, stop, stare you down. Jagged bass & guitar like insects dance, sparse, give you space so you know just how alone you are. A witch doctor jumps in front of you, sings pleadingly ‘walk slowly, speak slowly child’ (one of the priests trills along knowingly ‘ahh-ahh-ahh’) ‘imperfect harvest, imperfect healing, imperfect speed, imperfection revealing new wounds open one at a time’ all the priests in unison ‘one at a time’ as he grabs at your chest & rips out your heart.
Song: ‘Sunshine’
Band: Autumn Thieves
Album: The Sunshine ep
Website: http://autumnthieves.net
www.myspace.com/autumnthieves
It’s 1985. You walk into a record store that catches your eye because of the Joy Division poster in the window. Molly Ringwald’s at the record counter. She’s taking stock, being the clerk & all, and she has on those super-cute glasses that make you think geek girls are the sexiest things on earth. Not sexy in a porn star way, but sexy in a cuddle-up-agus way. You coyly walk towards the E section & begin flipping through the vinyl, examining some Echo & The Bunnymen or other, whatever, as you stare peripherally Molly’s way. It’s sunset & you dosed earlier this afternoon, it being Thursday & all. Sunshine penetrates the window and you can see all the dust particles floating through the air as the world peels back in colors. You turn towards Molly & open your mouth, because you finally have something to say. She’s melting. You close your eyes & run out the door.
Song: ‘I Used to Think’
Band: I feel tractor
Album: Out Spring 2006 on Goodbye Better
Website: http://goodbyebetter.com
www.myspace.com/ifeeltractor
I was sailing, out on the open sea, fingerpickin’ a guitar on the observation deck atop the mast. Looked down from my perch and eyed a cabin boy, tapping out a march on a snare drum. He’s drunk. So am I. The captain writhes on the floor, his limbs are spazzin’ out. He’s speaking in tongues. The wind shimmies like a moaning saw cutting my mind in two. We are sinking, slowly. The wooden mermaid on the front of bow turns to me, creaking, and opens her wooden lips: ‘You know you’ve got no head?’ I stop playing and feel the place where my face should be. Well how do you like that, she’s right ‘What will they do, they got no head to turn to.’
Song: ‘Receive’
Band: So L’il
Album: Dear Kathy,
Website: http://solil.net
http://goodbyebetter.com
www.myspace.com/solil
In the toy factory a corkscrew spits at you. It twists and opens a door which releases a rabbit which runs through your legs. Japanese elves hammer out gifts of passing. They are grabbing at your limbs, trying to pull you in four different directions at once. Candy canes in stockings dangle from the walls, silently sobbing. Santa sits at a keyboard & falls over dead every chorus, sleeping on a two note drone. He wakes during the verses, alarmed & confused, conveying this through a four note riff. A scandanavian girl sits on a swing hanging from the middle of the room. She pushes her legs in & out & swings, singing to someone who’s not there in her soft, sing-song voice, ‘Receiiiive, your sle-eep,’ again and again. A spirit floats in & smiles at the little girl. The spirit beckons her to swing higher, higher, then let go. The little girl pulls her legs all the way in, then pushes up towards the sky as high as she can & flies into the air, where the spirit hugs her so hard he goes inside her skin, his gift to her, Christmas Day, 2004.
Song: ‘In da Hood’
Band: Tiger Vomitt
Website: http://tigervomitt.info
www.myspace.com/tigervomitt
In the space age dojo a little girl sits on a mushroom smoking a blunt. She’s surrounded by aliens & the aliens are all break-dancing. A camero rolls in bouncing Bounce bounce. The little girl grabs the mic & starts free stylin’ ‘Break it break it break it down, Tiger Vommitt is the baddest crew in this town, Hit it hit it hit word, T to the V is in the herd.’ Song: Fantastic Maneuver
Band: Ifwhen
Album: ‘We Will Gently Destroy You’
Website: http://ifwhen.com
www.myspace.com/ifwhen
In the intergalactic satellite disco you gaze across the room & fall under the sway of a feminine feline creature. She pounces on you from across the room, leaping onto your shoulders , paws & claws catching your head in a vice grip. Forcing it to groove to the trio onstage, who assault you with dissonant noise which shimmers & strangles you & never resolves but strangely feels good. The feline jumps behind, puts a wire round your throat. She pulls, ‘think I’m sexy now, fucker’ she purrs. ‘Yes, I do,’ you say, ‘Yes...I do...’
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