sometimes the multitrack recorder isn't all set up and you've got to capture what's happening that moment because you know it's never going to sound -that- way again and you know recording is just moments of everyday life put on top of moments of everyday life, cobbled together with the help of friends and what's lying around us anyway and maybe sometimes you're set up to have control over a wide variety of variables (never all of them) but more often than not everything is completely crazy if not fucked, and everything has to come together anyway. If it's going to be worth your while these moments have to be magical and have to push aside the mundane banality that everyone has to put up with. This is a force against standing still and hiding in plain sight, unhappy nothing-to-do-ness and bad atmospheres. This is not an apology, if you don't like the sound, fuck off. Treads through sub-USA travels messed up always worried keep moving, pleasant after thoughts, funny comments worth some occasional repeating, friendships, pagan style celebration, Hittite war drums, post institutional loud buzzing, floating into someone else's weird political unrealities, watching a fight, seeing an accident, being in an accident, watching everything get torn down, waking up everyday to the biggest fiction ever (it could just as well get wiped off the map, really) and maybe after 15 hours or so later you sit down and hope, and maybe even feel that you remain fundamentally intact and still human.
Okay, two really old songs are FINALLY posted on the DEAD CONDORS site for you to devour before training counter-revolutionaries and slaughtering missionaries under the auspices of peacekeeping.
"Production"
Ron Draconis is the Phil Spector of loner/downer basement goth rape. He's the man behind the sound of Dusty's incessant barking and pleas. If this were another century, "Production" might have been a decent field holler. DEAD CONDORS finally find a place in the heart of Studs Terkel and Michael Gira.
"Honor Your Dead"
Who knew that recording tv hiss would lead to some really crispy asylum doo wop tracks? The gurgles and fizz are masterfully gutted by Ron Draconis and Dusty lays down some utterly worthless, yet charming Flo & Eddie moves before throwing himself into a woodchipper to avoid dates. Who knew serenading Cthulu spinsters would lead to rancid honeydrippin?
Please visit the DEAD CONDORS page and leave comments. Also, check out weirdorecords. com for equally delictable artists like PUFFY AREOLAS and HARD GOSPEL WITH CHILD. It's all from the same spooge. Be patient, weirdorecords. com will also have one or two DEAD CONDORS cds soon. Once we get out of Charles Nelson Reilly's teeth perhaps?
">
