Kris Kristofferson - Jesus Was a Capricorn (listen) What a great album title! Kris Kristofferson's krazy kozmik kountry kounter-kultur katalog has been repackaged in a rather arbitrary manner but whatever... I'm glad to see the albums reappearing. Country music was such a crucible of weirdness in the early 70's with Nashville cats getting in the mushroom patch and staking our new territory for pop music. It is hard to experience their catalog through greatest hits packages, and unlike the country music that preceded it, this was Album Music, magic tomes bound in human skin meant to be perused by candlelight in entirety. I really wish the dubious album stream of David Allan Coe's cultural abrasiveness would get a similar treatment; I have a feeling there is something in there besides just racist jingo blather.
Kris is pretty good with the Leonard Cohen shtick, maybe better than Leonard. Adding a little Rita Coolidge makes any situation better.
Speaking of arbitrary manners, a site of gibberish appeared on my Google alert containing my name and this cryptic statement
Despite the previous arguments, Alex V. Cook has many reasons to think otherwise:What are these sites for? I suppose they either drive up or obfuscate web traffic for someone, but I don't really see them having any discernible purpose. Things like this and gibberish laced emails that don't contain viruses and are thereby just quizzical instead of dangerous, and I kinda like them. They are like those bizarre short wave numbers stations, secretive dispatches of lost or obscured meaning; I like that they don't compute.
Mississippi Records MRC-032 Sunda Pop (from Root Blog) Or this. I really don't know what these Mississippi Records compilations are all about, why Root Blog digitizes, zips up and reposts them, if these were ever actual cassettes, or what Root Blog rr even about, but I am mad about them all. This one is some sort of exotic Indian/Far East psyche pop from an indeterminable era, like Dengue Fever, but more "real." It is the kind of tape one might pick up from a strange man with a card table full of similar tapes at some flea market. You turn to show it to your friend, and then when you turn back, the card table is gone. I wish all music was as mysteriously delivered as this. Having this otherworldliness in my ears makes the mundane task of scrounging up some lunch seem like a safari mission.
The bit that starts at the nine-minute mark on "Side A" is one of the spookiest, finest acid-strained dream ballads I've ever heard. It's like listening to aliens trying to adequately express their love of Brenda Lee, but they only have some old Velvet Underground tapes to work with. The music the precedes and follows it is equally but differently genius, ranging from ramshackle frafisa organ ABBA to sex romp songs for drugged assassins.
UPDATE: Any doubts of the veracity of this being a tape of a treasure trove of records is elinated by the skipping on one number twists the end of side a. Also, this is the greatest mixtape ever made, the sort that when whipped out, establishes you as the coolest person in the room, as someone with a relaxed grip on the reins of the mystical ox team used to till the feilds of the fantastic.
Also, Wikipedia reports that "Sunda" refers to the Western islands in the Malay archipelago. This detail should be casually dropped when the bewildered throngs breathlessly ask "What is this???"
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