Tarzanz Milkmen (1985) C30

Something of a change of tone this week given that this lot wouldn't have sounded out of place on the Stiff label around 1979 sitting, as they did, at a point somewhere between the Clash and er... True Colours era Split Enz. This may be a lazy musical comparison, but the vocals definitely remind me of Tim Finn. Anyway, I saw them live in either 1985 or possibly 1986 when they played at Maidstone Art College, and they were fucking terrific, inspiring me to purchase both their six-track studio demo and 7" single right there on the spot - all of which is included here in the download, with Hands and Common Girls being from the single.

By the way, it's taken all of my powers of self control to remain faithful to the band's annoying spelling of their own name, and the main thing which has kept me from correcting it to Tarzan's Milkmen is the thought that just possibly they were all milkmen who bonded over regular deliveries made to a nightclub (or summink) called Tarzanz. I don't know. Nor do I know anything else about them beyond what I've been able to glean from a two page interview in Acrylic Daze fanzine, whatever that was - scanned and included in the download so as to give you something to read and to distract from the Jim Davidson-esque lyrics of Down Down Down, one of those songs about how birds never fucking shut up, do they - always talking - yap yap yap. At this point it may have become obvious that if you've come here looking for Gerogerigegege outtakes, this one may not be for you. It's not the greatest thing I've ever heard, but it gets its hooks in after a few plays, and Use Me Dub is as good as any of the Ruts' efforts in that area.

 

Download the tape, single and associated imagery by clicking on this link.

Tracks: 

1 - Duran Duran
2 - All Talk
3 - Use Me Dub
4 - Use Me Up
5 - Africa
6 - Down Down Down
7 - Hands
8 - Common Girls

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The Gerogerigegege - Piano River (2016) C46

 

About this time last year I ordered a Smell & Quim album from someone I'm not going to incriminate by identifying (because describing what someone actually did apparently now counts as 'saying nasty things' about them in the noise twat microcosm), and who took a full eight months to send me the thing for reasons described in a series of increasingly lame excuses; but happily, he actually did eventually get off his fat ass and send me the record along with a bunch of freebie tapes. I hadn't asked for the tapes. He'd promised to chuck them in the package as compensation for the delay, even though it still took another six fucking months for said package to make it to the local post office. I didn't really want the tapes. I just wanted the record I'd paid for before I died of old age, but never mind.

Anyway, the Smell & Quim album was great - actually just about worth the wait. The tapes were of the usual kind which seem to do the rounds in noise circles - a crap plastic wallet containing a loose cassette and usually a photocopy of someone's knob, the equivalent of some postmodern wanker picking an empty crisp packet out of his bin, screwing it into a ball, and chucking it at you with the words, 'here - this is art. You can have it if you like.' Some might suggest such packaging strikes against the hegemony of boringly conventional cassette cases, but it always looks like they just couldn't be arsed to me - same as when I hear the words this is art in reference to anything which patently isn't. Make some fucking effort, dude.

To get to the point, now that I'm good and ready to do so, one of the tapes turned out to be this thing. I've never been particularly drawn to the whole Japanese noise thing, and the only legitimate reasons for anyone ever doing a poo on stage in front of the audience are 1) in the event of the venue lacking adequate restroom facilities, or 2) if you're playing support to the Electric Light Orchestra. Still, I'd at least heard of the Gerogerigegege so I gave it a listen, and as it turns out Piano River is not at all what I expected and is, in fact, pretty good. I couldn't really work out how he generated this noise, but presumably it's something involving turntables. Discogs breaks each side up into five pieces, which I've ignored because each sounds like a single work in five movements to me, just like you get with Beethoven and all of those guys. I assume this is the unofficial version issued by Michael Gillham, although given all the networking, I'd be surprised as to whether it was unofficial in the sense of Sting's I Hope the Russians Love Me Too triple vinyl bootleg (1986). Presumably being the unofficial version, I don't know if the sound quality has suffered. It seems a bit hissy, but then it still sounds pretty good to my ears.

 

Download the tape and cover by clicking on this link.

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