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We get tons of email from people who apparently think we exist only to promote their unlistenable band, unviewable art project, and unbearable lives.
We get tons of email from people who apparently think we exist only to promote their unlistenable band, unviewable art project, and unbearable lives. We recently received a press release written in such by-the-books indie-press-release style, it was if a machine generated it.
We’ve “altered” their press release. Only the band’s name, the band members’ names, their hometown, and their albums’ names have been changed. We feel as if we’ve greatly improved the press release, but if you insist on reading the original and listening to “a new musical realm of rhythmic insistence,” we guess you can go here. (See? We’ve promoted you!)
Hi guys, I wanted to send Street Boner/TV Carnage a review copy of MY MOTHER’S ASSHOLE’s “THE FELCHING REMAINS,” our latest release on Indiebird Tapes. The 10 song LP is the sophomore release from the band, following 2009′s self-released Smegma Sandwich. The Felching Remains finds the Akron, OH duo expanding past the tested foundation of Randall “Tex” Weinberg’s quiveringly assertive voice and Buford Rubin’s haunting waves of psychedelic guitar and vocal looping into a new musical realm of rhythmic insistence and ambient disintegration. The album is available now on a limited-edition run of three hundred 12" vinyl and digitally. The digital album also includes the 9-song bonus Does This Lump Look Weird to You? EP. ABOUT “THE FELCHING REMAINS”: Feel free to let me know if I can send anything else your way or if you would be interested in speaking with the band for interviews/featuring.
Floating through the reverb-drenched dream that is My Mother’s Asshole is like watching someone die, but not in a sad or morbid way. It’s more the happiness you feel when knowing the person has accepted that they are going on to a better place and it becomes a wonderful thing instead of a bad one. A smile on a wrinkled face, light shooting out of their eyes and mouth. My Mother’s Asshole could be the soundtrack for this moment, or they could be the moment itself, encapsulated in a glistening bubble of music and voice. With subtle guitar and percussion that is both deep and sparse, the most caressing feature is the layers of echoing vocals that may haunt you, but not enough to keep you from lifting the veil that hides a face that you have never seen but long to glimpse. It’s no wonder that Randall “Tex” Weinberg and Buford Rubin list "melody, obscurity, dissonance" as influences that shape the music of My Mother’s Asshole.
Thanks, but we think we’ll pass. And good luck with your career!
One cant even understand what they are saying in their “haunting” vocals. I hate when bands try too hard to be unique and strange. There is a point where it isn’t innovative, it’s just bullshit from talentless idiots.
the conventional is now experimental the experimental is now conventional.
OLD BRICKS – SOFT DICKS
Don’t give a fuck about bands, but goddamn, that book looks like a kick-ass read.
(rimshot)