“James Wilson of Music With My Insane Friend suggested I use Richard Evans’ encomium to his neighbour Thumpface as an intro to “Images of Konk”, so I did. Out To Lunch”
Text (Thumpface) by Richard Evans.
Music (Images of Konk ) by I Digress Indeed
HERE IS THE OFFICIAL GUFF
Work Title: location / dislocation
Dimensions: 7.5 metres X 1.5 metres
Materials: Acrylic paint on wall surface, accompanied by musical interpretation.
Paint: Phillip Jones
Double Bass: James Rust
Percussion: Mark Grunden
Guitar: James Wilson
Tenor and Soprano Saxophones: Konk Zooben
Free improvisation and Chadbourne are most definitely a manifestation of Holloway’s other-doing. A crack in the fabric of market capitalism. Outside of the spectacle and beyond its tentacles. No commodities or profundity chasing here. This is primal use value all up in ya face. And he’s an old fart as well, who’s been doing it for years. Eyebrows and recalcitrant stiff middle fingers all over the place. A fuck you to the man. Who says you have to grow up! Revolutionary potential? Who knows, go ask Taylor Swift!
Below a review by the Psychedelic Bolsheviks of Eugene Chadbourne’s concert at Cafe Otto in London. The link for those interested
What can ya do? Still gotta have some craft or skill I suppose. Proven exceptionalism over ordinariness? Specialness over unspecialness? I love this tune!
Kym Farbach – voice and flute
Mark Grunden – drums
Konk Zooben – saxophone
Lead Suit Wilson – guitar
Seriously, how long does one have to put up with liberal Nobel Laureates and other half funking arsed liberal economic commentators rabbiting on with their holier than thou OVER FUNKING EDUCATED bullshit as if they REALLY funking care. Funking debt restructuring and giving countries a fresh start because that’s how capitalism can work?!? YEAH, AND THEN YOU CAN KEEP YOUR FUNKING HUGE SALARIES as you rock back and forth guiltlessly in your serious leather funking business shoes with your hands in the pockets of your seriously look-how-successful-I-am suit funking pants.
FUNK YOU AND FUNK OFF ! JUST CANCEL FUNKING CAPITALISM BECAUSE THERE’S NOT A FUNKING SKERRICK OF MORALITY IN IT. IT’S JUST ONE GREAT BIG FUNKING PHYSICAL AND MENTAL PRISON YOU FUNKING NOBLE LIBERAL LAUREATE MOTHERFUNKERS.
“So soon as I got home after I’d fed the hungry dog, the hungry cat and the hungry me, I started sucking on a piece of raw garlic which made it a bit better for a while. I had a few things I had to do online, apply for a job and apply for a benefit so I got the laptop out and looked for some music to play; I’d downloaded the three I to I tracks by Music with my insane friend, recommended by Out To Lunch on Facebook.”
Everything does seem to fail, doesn’t it. Things pop up then disappear. Some look promising but kind of go nowhere. Nowhere seems to be the destination of so many things. One could try to list them all but why bother. Where’s that gonna get us? Probably nowhere.
Occupy this, start that, infiltrate those, radicalise them, confront that discourse, write about this, think through that, debate them, discuss this. This idea, that idea. Yep, on and on and on and on. Nowhere bound.
Ban excessive make up and coloured contact lenses.
Ban stooped hats.
Ban tinted windows.
Everyone line up naked each morning on your front lawn: “Inspections!”
Ban the government?
The Black Flag
Read more… “THE BLACK FLAG”
By Peter Lach-Newinsky
[The annual Anzac Day ritual coming up soon here in Australia, so a poem in memoriam of two child victims of Australian soldiers in Afghanistan. Howard, Rudd and Gillard were the three Australian Prime Ministers in office during the Afghanistan intervention. ANZUS stands for the Australian/New Zealand/US alliance or treaty. Photo from AFP relating to other victims and a father’s grief.]
Read more… “BECAUSE”
[A poem of Peter Lach-Newinsky’s from an unpublished suite of poems on great philosophers called I Love Sophie.]
Marx, As Usual
Read more… “MARX, AS USUAL”
Should I move all the bullshit below to the trash or does it belong fairly in that depressing repository (or is that suppository?) called the blogosphere?
My insane friend?