30 September, 2012

Beyond The Hole: Adam in Whole Body's (former) band.

Welcome to the first installment of Beyond The Hole, a Dower of Refuse special in which I will showcase my co-workers' bands. There are a lot of 'em at WF, so, barring any unforeseen shituations, this should be a long-running series. Alright, let's get down to it then, shall we?

Cuz he was the first dude to reach out and talk to me about Metal, shows, headbangin', sick guitar solos, circlepits, Kreator backpatches, etc., I present, first and foremost - that's right, I said foremost - Adam Haritan's former band Mantic Ritual. To be honest with y'all, when I found out that the clean-cut flaxen dude from Whole Body who wears a necklace with a feather and some kind of glass amulet hung on a leather strap - when I found out that that dude was the drummer of the defunct Meltdown/Mantic Ritual I nearly barfed blood, which I would've had to've cleaned up myself, so I refrained. From barfing blood, I mean. I still definitely spewed out all sorts of semi-incredulous kudos, replete with bits of chunky green envy and the usual phlegmy opaline, mussel-like pieces of bronchial congestion stuff that I'm always trying to jettison anyway. 

"Dude, you were in Meltdown?!" was the resounding sentiment. And Adam just beamed that goofy smile and was like "yeah, man," psyched that I knew of them, and even more grateful that I was a fan. Then the very next time we worked together Adam had brought me a copy of the Mantic Ritual full-length that Nuclear Blast put out like three years ago. I wish I could've given him a Cool Bean, but even though our Store Leader is a total metalhead, I doubt it would've been seen as a valid reason for a CB.

But about the album itself. What's great about Thrash Metal is its inherently fun nature. For instance, with Adam's band, despite having two names throughout their career, that is Meltdown and then Mantic Ritual, they've only ever had one album title. In 2006, they released their second demo, the first one to have a title, and that title was Executioner. The following year - still named Meltdown - they self-released their debut album, also bearing the title Executioner. Then, after moving to the West Coast and changing their name to Mantic Ritual, they released, via Nuclear Blast, their second full length, Executioner. Though both albums have the exact same track listing and - thematically speaking, at least - identical cover art, they are different albums with different producers, different recordings, and two years in-between. In comparing the two full lengths, Executioner by Meltdown & Executioner by Mantic Ritual, one hears that the two year span served the band well. Their brand of ripping Thrash became not necessarily bridled, but controlled. There are still moments during the Mantic Ritual full length where it seems like the song is about to get away from them, to buck off its human riders and run wild into the foggy blackened horizon where more extreme Metal lay. But our boy Adam keeps a tight grip on the reigns and keeps his band mates astride the Thrash traditional. 

With permission from the drummer, Adam Haritan, here is Mantic Ritual's Executioner in 320 kbps. A Dower exclusive, ripped by Yours Unruly Shimself . . . TOTAL REFUSE!!!:

29 September, 2012

21 Days Straight I Been Straight Husslin'.


But right now, I gotta go spend some time with my peoples.  

4 yr enjoymint:


27 September, 2012

Ten Ammendents upon Saturn's Return

1. Chill and Trill.
This Ammendment promises that I Just Chill And Write That Shit Down, that is keep a daily account of my life. Not only for Oneself, but for History too. I believe this Ammendment to be both Good and Proper.

2. Be nice in traffic.
No matter what happens when I'm Behind The Wheel, it is utmost from hitherforth that I Will Refrain Entirely From Speeding, that is exceeding the posted limit of any given area, dire situations pending; I Will Refrain From Assuming Such Things Of "The Other" As To Censure Them; I Will Refrain from Honking; I Will Be Respectful Of All Cyclists, Both Helmeted and Non-Helmeted, that is I Will Give Cyclists A Wide Berth, and I will give this gift, and expect nothing in return, for they, like me, are just trying to get somewhere.

3. Work smart, not hard.
This Ammendment is Passed Down from On High. This Ammendment has been co-signed in One's Blood, and this Ammendment is a tradition that marks the flesh deeper than the Tattoo.

4. I'm taken.
This Ammendment is believed to represent a manifestation of a necessary vibe. I got a most wonderful MammaJamma named MC WELSH. She's more than just my backbeat. She's more than just my Midnight Scratcher. She's my Heartbeat. She's my Backscratcher. She's my editor. She's my Save The Last Dance. She's Josh in Clueless and I'm Cher. She's my plus one into God's Most Opvlent Crib.

5. Zero at the bone. 
This Ammendment Pledges in Green that I Will Live Frugally so that, someday, I can experience a nice extravagance.

6. This is water. 
In the Names Of Fallen Geniuses This Ammendment is written to encourage thoughtful and
economic thinking in lieu of nastiness and ill-ventured ideas. 

7.  Metonymy Clause
This Ammendment is scribes the metonymy "Procrastination is cigarettes is alcohol is gambling" and that all #4VICE is prohibited under State-of-Mind Sanctum, but is practiced with Liberal Rites Vnder Goobernationalistian Law.

8. Vox Plebeian
A Purely Democractic Ammendment. This year's winner, from Bethlehem, Wisconsin, Mr. Charlemagne Shedder: A Plea For Conversation: Please be conscience of your daily trash misgivings. 

9. Crazy Old People Be Trippin'!
This Ammendment states Practice Patience With The Elderly. Yes, they are passionately racist, but they are also genetically ignorant, and, most importantly, they are Close To Death.

10. Free and Guilty Awareness. 
 You are American. Be Grateful. You are American. Be apologetic, and ever-conscientious, especially when abroad, or when enoccurence with suspected elements of abroad. 


My baby mamma smiling for the camera at a benefit show thing she wrote about.

Here's a Drunk Dad Cuisine tip for ya:
Did you come home drunk and forget to get fucking chips again? Is all you got is crumbs? Fuck it, man, you got a ton of fucking salsa. Put the salsa and the crumbs in a cereal bowl, - hell, that's a great idea, too! Put some milk on there! milk's just new cheese anyway, right? and then nuke it for however long it takes you to get undressed; and then simply enjoy it scalding hot over your bare and hairy belly on the loveseat while the people who live above you make sounds so loud it's like they're trying to convince you they're actually having fun and not miserable with fucking each other. let's go baby!

25 September, 2012

For Tim

Cuz he put that new Killer Mike in my ears, and that record stay in my ears cuz it moves me when nothing else will. This is Mr. Muthafuckin' eXquire, and his full length Lost In Translation, which Pitchfork says probably "wasn't chosen as a title for the fact it's a cool phrase: Despite the occasional guest rap, it shares the movie's overwhelming loneliness and desperation." Dan in the Front End @ WFM reco'd this shit to me. I told him to check out RiFF RAFF. He don't like the new Killer Mike, but I also don't think he gave it a fair chance. Despite that incongruity, I think you'll dig this, Tim. You too, anonymous supplicant.

Here's how Mr. Muthafuckin' eXquire describes his own record:

Since the fall of NY’s iron fist rule over rap, it seems like every couple of months someone declares, “NY is back.” It’s usually someone trying to push a new rap cat to the Hot 97 crew. Those dudes are aight, but, they always seem to miss one thing — actually reppin’ what it’s like to live in NYC. Cats will rep the drug trade of the city or the club scene but miss out on what the rest of us who aren’t living New Jack City coke dreams are fucking with. Yeah, you gotta have a song about someone getting stomped out with a pair of Timbs but you also need a song that reps Kennedy Fried Chicken.

Mr. Muthafuckin’ eXquire comes with a slow drunken master delivery on Lost In Translation, he drops song after song that combines the grittiness of NY with a soundtrack that weaves in and out of noisy, experimental bangers. These are songs that remind you of the heyday of experiential NY rap while occasionally throwing in random references to Marvel comics and American Ninja to put the whole shit in perspective. Basically, these joints sound like the time you saw a Mexican dude and a Chinese dude arguing in Spanish while a garbage truck backed up and someone drove by blasting the bass line of “Grindin.” You know Thursday night on Flatbush Ave.

With production from cats like El-P and Necro the album knocks pretty hard while eXquire lays out tales of waging a war of attrition with his liver, fucking horrible women, pissing in between subway cars, staying up way too late and eating at off brand chicken places. If that doesn’t encapsulate the life of mad heads in NYC then we’ve finally lost the war against Guilliani’s Disneyfication of the city.

Cop this shit, an Arizona Iced Tea and a snack pack while you sit on your stoop and watch the world go by.


released 11 September 2011 




17 September, 2012

Been thinkin' 'bout forever.

I know a lot of you barbarians were partying too hard on Saturday night and missed out on Frank Ocean's debut SNL appearance, so here you go.


13 September, 2012

Keep pushing onward.

". . . for the slightest contact with people produced in him a faint but persistent nausea. He could not remember when this distaste began, nor could he remember ever being free of it. As a young boy he had been greatly disturbed by this revulsion which others did not seem to share, but having got a fine education, he learned, among other things, the word "misanthrope." Knowing this label provided him with both comfort and courage, he believed that to name an evil was to neutralize it if not annihilate it. Then, too, he had read several books and made the acquaintance of several great misanthropes of the ages, whose spiritual company soothed him and provided him with yardsticks for measuring his whims, his yearnings and his antipathies. Moreover, he found MISANTHROPY an excellent means of developing character: when he subdued his revulsion and occasionally touched, helped, counseled or befriended somebody, he was able to think of his behavior as generous and his intentions as noble. When he was enraged by some human effort or flaw, he was able to regard himself as discriminating, fastidious, and full of nice scruples.
          "As in the case of many misanthropes, his disdain for people led him into a profession designed to serve them."
- from Toni Morrison's The Bluest Eye - which book I just finished reading for my Women As Writers class. The misanthrope described above, a man by the name of Soaphead Church, turns out to be a pedophile, but, still, I find the description of his character to be not only very insightful, but very familiar as well. Except, again, for the whole pedophile part.

Drain the gulf twain swagger and slip
Looka like antifreeze
What's yr combo girl?
Pink to match yr toenails
lookin' fell now,
chuggin' glacial freeze,
grindin' whale rails
meltin' caps, no deludin: this steaze
best bless me when I sneeze
can't a gram of this soul escape,
eatin' money like they crepes
can't let go lest I lose the beat, forget my rhyme
like i'm turnin' over couch cushions
tryin' to find that lost dime
and now she hittin me up, like it ain't 2
all like: "U @?" and I'm like "chillin' sup w/ U?"
Wanna watch a movie, she wanna know.
Still steady hittin' that steady prescription? I need to know,
"Wreck. M." on an orange bottle in the yellow bathroom light,
pray the Lord my soul ain't seep out in my sleep tonight.

Do you festered teet-biting dependents have any idea how much I miss y'all when I'm away? The desire to produce more refuse for the Dower is like an omnipresent droning that can only be drowned out by the sound of typing.
Just took my first Prob&Stats class of the semester. I feel confident, but we'll see . . .

Went to Philly on Saturday with Marge, Myz & Ben to see Pallbearer & Royal Thunder. Was pretty bummed to find out that Samothrace dropped off. Royal Thunder was great, sounded just like their record, but, just like their record, my interest ebbed and licked like the tide in fast forward. Never realized how great the singers voice is. She's like a pop star. Not entirely sure that's a good thing when playing bluesy stoner metal, though.
PALLBEARER, however, were - pardon my hyperbole - the greatest fucking thing ever! They opened with "Void of Redemption," - which I damn near moshed for cuz it was so moving - then they played a new song, - at least it was a song I'd never heard before, a real brain-melter with harmonizing, double-but-different solos - then they jammed their  cover of "Gloomy Sunday," which was so heavy and so inEFFably righteous it caused Myz to punch me in the arm like three times. They pseudo-closed with "Foreigner" and after we (the crowd, I mean, but esp. me and Myz) virulently demanded an encore, they played - which song I personally shouted at the top of my lungs for them to play - "Given to the Grave." For their entire set, I headbanged so hard, and oftentimes completely off-rhythm, e.g. headbanging like they were playing a thrashbeat when really they were playing a super slow doombeat but being unable to help myself cuz it was just so good and I love their tunes so much, but during "GttG", I just kept my head down, my hair hung like a curtain over my dumbshit face, and I just swayed; and if my body were physically capable of such a surrender of toughness I probably would've even cried. That song destroys me. The riffage, the dynamic creshens and descreshens, the lyrics (which are only four lines in length, and those lines being: Carry me to my grave/When at long last my journey has ended/On the path that leads from here to oblivion/Where no more sorrow can weight me down). It's easily my favorite song of the year. I want those lyrics read at my funeral if I happen to die young for whatever reason. You guys got that? Just them four lines then you can dump back into the indifferent dirt. 

Believe I've got some equests to fill . . .

A great record that's most ironically been all-but-covered by the piling sands of TIME. These, during an off-date on their tour with High On Fire, played Roboto II in 2006 and put on what is still the best set from any band I've ever seen. I was really fucking into this record before the show and after the show I was a bloody-kneed devotee. They had a fucking gong and the bassist/vocalist fucking KICKED IT at one point. Holy shit. You will need to spin this record at least a dozen times before you can actually heed its brilliance. I suggest buying the CD, too, because the lyrics are actually profound without being too acrimonious or preachy, and aren't your typical documentary-informed, half-baked polemics a la most other "sociopolitical" tripe bands these days try to pass as something more than propaganda. What I'm trying to say is that you're not likely to see a bumpersticker with the lines: "As any crime shows the fragility of the law, as any corpse shows the fragility of the body, time bares fragility of the symbolic order. The violent revolt of being."


Ben is not like some place to be written about on a blog where most people would never go anyway.  Ben may or may not like this record. He saw that the b/v of PB was wearing a Loss shirt and said: "I bet they're good, huh?" I said: "Yeah, man. They're fvcking super good." Then, referencing the one guitarist's shirt, I added: "TOAD's really sweet, too. They're like a more BM EYEHATEGOD." So, then, these two records, inspired by half of Pallbearer's t-shirts, are posted for my best bud, Ben Backupdork. Hope you enjoy 'em, ol' buddy ol' pal o' mine. 


 Here's what Ms. Cawley had to say about my Joan Didion essay:

Alright, I gotta get back to writing about shit I could not possibly care less about but pays the light bills so while it may not take precedence over the Dower it is necessary, sometimes, to cap it off, as it were, and get back to business. Just wanted to touch base first, liquidate some brainstorming venture capitals, and see what we can squeeze for the third quarter here.







As I gaze from my Dower,

03 September, 2012

Visit they graves on holidays at best.

If I may be so candid . . .

Tears well in my eyes as I write this, but I dare not blink and let their we-we-wet wimpiness emasculate my rugged, bearded jaw, so instead I'll stare wide-eyed, unblinking at the glaring light of this here iridescent stagnant pond.

I miss my family. 

Last night I drank a beer on an empty stomach and stayed up 'til 1 am, after working 8 hours at WFM, to start my essay on Joan Didion. The beer made me naueated. Turns out it was only a stuck burp, but for a while I felt certain it was the beginning pangs of something worse. Influenza. Botulism if I was really lucky. I prayed to Jesus that I wouldn't get sick, but deep down I kinda wanted to. Just so I could drop out of life and give up. Lay around in a hospital with an IV in my arm, channel surfing, catching up on reading. Having people come visit me, bringing me candy bars and well wishes.

I've since finished the essay. Turned out pretty good.

Still . . .
There's just so much on my plate right now. 

But it's like Jay-Z says: Got an appetite for destruction and I wipe the plate clean.

Except in this case it's an appetite for world domination and I'm gonna eat the plate, too. Cuz the plate is also the world.

Here're some Labor Day Jamz for y'all lucky languid laborers.

TIME & UH 1/2,