We have:
A Bass and a Jason
A Ketytar and a Ronen Ben
We are looking for a new drummer, contact us if this is you. communicationcorporation@gmail.com We also:
Sing
Because thats what good people do and we are good people. Sometimes we are accompanied by:
The C.E.O.s (The Chorus Explosion Overdrive) The Boss:
Chairman Flower
Influences
Slimey: music video
Car For Sale: music video
psst... make us famous go to youtube.com and rate our videos. tell your grandma about us, but don't tell your sister (you need to use reverse pyscology on her)
Sounds Like
Its like attending a dirty dance party
DJ-ed by the Talking Heads with Devo and a caravan of gypsies
getting sweaty in the back.
It sounds like this:
Purchase The Communication Corporation 14 Track Onslaught "I.P.O." For 10$
You Can Also Purchase The Album On iTunes By Clicking Below
We're not a bad corporation. We're not a good corporation.
We're Your Corporation
Communication [kuh-myoo-ni-key-shuh] n: 1. The imparting or interchange of thoughts, opinions, or information by speech, overdriven bass, or massive drumbeats.
2. (Biology) Activity by one organism that changes or has the potential to change the behavior of other organisms ability to dance, shake and explode.
Corporation [kawr-puh-rey-shuhn] n: an association of individuals, created by law or under authority of law, having a continuous existence independent of the existences of its members, and powers and liabilities distinct from those of its members. Note: A corporation cannot be held responsible for the uncontrolable urges and actions that appear on a dance floor.
A Brief History of The Com Corp:
My name is Ronen Ben. At least that's what they'll put on my tombstone. I was born at a young age on the mud banks of the mighty Hudson River.
My mother, an aged silver screen pin-up gal left me for the life fast cars and hard drugs while my father just left me for dead. Take a deep breath and I can still smell the dead rattlesnake and cheap Mexican perfume as my folks took off in their 85' Chevy Nova to Juarez, Mexico. All I had left was my grandfather's watch, a weeks worth of Mezcal and 12 years of life under my belt. My only friend was 8 inches of cold steel named "Buck."
I left the shores of Brooklyn to find a better life then sweeping up the needles and cigarette butts at the Coney Island freak show. I stowed away on the SS Simplex between loudmouthed chickens and a pig in need of a serious attitude adjustment. That's where I ran into Mr. knife.
Eggs "Loosey" Knife was a man of the world with a excessive taste for scotch. He made his way through life drumming out disco beats on battered skins for anyone who was willing to pay. It was his idea to head out to Bangkok, Thailand since he heard you could get a Russian woman and two snuffs of opium for an ounce of silver. All I wanted was a warm bed and a hot meal.
I stole an accordion from a pocked faced hooker named Margarite in a broken down brothel outside Chiang Mia. Mr. Knife and I used it to pay our way through the faded streets of what was once considered the crown jewel of a proud nation. I'd play creaky old love songs for dancing tourists and fat old woman with gold in their teeth while "Loosey" made off with their wallets in his sticky fingers.
That's when Jason walked into our lives.
I was 17 at the time. Knife could still out drink a Kraut though Buck's sense of humor had dulled a bit. Still, I knew I could count on Buck getting the last laugh. We met Jason at the Salty Dog in Bolivia where me and Ol' "Loosey" had a weekly spot entertaining the local gauchos with dirty songs about girls in red skirts. Jason Randall was a fast talker. He was raised among the gimps, pimps and hustlers of Wall Street and was always the first to smell out opportunity. He was a child of the cold, modern world.
He told us of our former homes and the nightmare that engulfed them. He told us of Corporations only interested in profits and net gains. C.E.O.s that are only interested in yachts and crushing the broken worker. He asked us to go back with him to New York. Back to land that had turned its back us. It was time to begin a new kind of Corporation. A Corporation for the people and by the people. A Corporation for the proliferation of dance, sweat and bliss. It was time to put a face on the faceless.
Is that how it went down? Was there really an 85' Chevy and whore named Margarite? The details are not important.
The Communication Corporation was created to give out nonsensical joy to a world with too much meaning. The Communication Corporation is your corporation. It's our corporation.
HM002 - Torturing Nurse - fist a sickle / destruction output c15 cassette - $6 Cathartic and brutally harsh. Analogue noise done right Limited to 50 copies with inserts
Still available:
HM001 - Zebulon Kosted - Novaya Zemlya c45 cassette - $6 A truly incapacitating black noise masterpiece; sounds from the snow capped mountains and barren caves of Montana Limited to 53 copies on various coloured tapes with inserts
Visit heofthehouse.com for information, special promotions, our full distro, trades, other fun tidbits, and so on
He Of The House's very first (of many) compilation. Nineteen tracks from twenty artists, the end result of which is possibly one of the most diverse compilations I've ever heard. From soft spoken acoustic folk to raving, churning dirge tunes; from a noisy, industrial cover of a Sonic Youth song to oldschool punk from when it was still raw, fast, and unforgiving. Powerviolence peppers the grounds where spooked whispers whinny along, and the caustic words of a madman festering in his own mind play out over perpetually plucked guitar strings. A true honour it is to work with these amazing artists, and I do hope we can keep them coming back for years.
Featuring: Zombie Battle Axe, xHaroldShitmanx, Kro & Jason "EVIL" Covelli, Nemesism, Ginny Greenteeth, Don't Move, Spiral Vertigo, Chachi On Acid, Mike Bruno, Autopia, Dead Kid Harvester, Jason "EVIL" Covelli, Karmakumulator, Chelsea Wolfe, RedSK vs. teh soup rebellion, Torturing Nurse, Sleepers, Flea McGruff
Housed in handmade & handpainted paper jackets with individually original black tissue cutouts, enclosed with a button. Featuring full page insert artwork by Jason "EVIL" Covelli and a blurb about each band/artist from myself. Limited to 45 handnumbered copies.
For more information, tracklisting, artwork, and information on future compilations, as well as a wealth of other fun tidbits, visit heofthehouse.com heofthehouse.com/compilation
To order this compilation for only $8 (prices vary for out of country shipping), visit heofthehouse.com/recordshoppe
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