Total Fucking DestructionPeace, Love and Total Fucking Destruction
Enucleation
“You suspect me of trickery?” Hagberd asked raising his eyebrows.
“Trickery is your métier,” Joe said bluntly. “You are the Beethoven, the Rockefeller, the Michaelangelo of deception. The Shakespeare of the gypsy switch, the two headed nickel, and the rabbit in the hat. What little liver pills are to Carter, lies are to you. You dwell in a world of trapdoors, sliding panels, and Hindu rope tricks. Do I suspect you? Since I met you, I suspect everybody.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Hagberd grinned. “You are well on your way to paranoia. Take this card and keep it in your wallet. When you begin to understand it, you’ll be ready for your next promotion. Just remember: It’s not true unless it makes you laugh. That is the one and sole and infallible test of all ideas that will ever be presented to you.” And he handed Joe a card saying
THERE IS NO FRIEND
ANYWHERE.
“Trickery is your métier,” Joe said bluntly. “You are the Beethoven, the Rockefeller, the Michaelangelo of deception. The Shakespeare of the gypsy switch, the two headed nickel, and the rabbit in the hat. What little liver pills are to Carter, lies are to you. You dwell in a world of trapdoors, sliding panels, and Hindu rope tricks. Do I suspect you? Since I met you, I suspect everybody.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Hagberd grinned. “You are well on your way to paranoia. Take this card and keep it in your wallet. When you begin to understand it, you’ll be ready for your next promotion. Just remember: It’s not true unless it makes you laugh. That is the one and sole and infallible test of all ideas that will ever be presented to you.” And he handed Joe a card saying
THERE IS NO FRIEND
ANYWHERE.
The Illuminatus! Trilogy, page 250
Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson
Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson
I don’t know if Rich Hoak has read up on Wilson (I suspect he has). But if he hasn’t, there’s no need because the drummer and his band of merry pranksters are living the counter culture icon’s admonition to engage in bizarre sex rituals while indiscriminately devouring whatever chemical substances are readily at hand and prying those chakras wide open on Peace, Love and Total Fucking Destruction.
Album closer “Last Night I Dreamt We Destroyed the World” is a Lynchian, delightfully meandering spoken word romp through Hoak’s damp, dank id that evokes Rudimentary Peni circa Cacophony before giving way to Minutemen-style woodwind fetishism. Though TFD have jettisoned the acoustic grind that closed out last year’s equally awesome Zen and the Art of Total Fucking Destruction, the nine minute closer shows that the creative well has not yet run dry for the Philly fanatics.
Even at its most relatively tame (and I do mean relatively), Peace is larded with the kind of infectious songwriting sorely lacking in a lot of other blastfests. “Non-Existence of the Self” (this album’s answer to Zen’s awesome “Corpse Position”) pries open your third eye with a corkscrew riff that slithers like the serpent kundalini.
In case you’re totally friggen obtuse, TFD remind you they’re seriously funny guys on the immaculately titled “Seth Putnam is Wrong About a Lot of Things, But Seth Putnam Is Right About You,” a battering ram drum assault paired with a sinuous bass that belies the intentionally stupid title.
Add in updated versions (Hoak has said he intends the remakes to be mantra-style repititions) of “Boxcutter,” “Nihilism, Emptiness, Nothingness and Nonsense” and “Bio-Satanic Terroristic Attack” and you’ve got 20 minutes of holy fool insanity.
Stock up your armory and light up your bong because Hoak’s apocalyptic circus is back in town.
Album closer “Last Night I Dreamt We Destroyed the World” is a Lynchian, delightfully meandering spoken word romp through Hoak’s damp, dank id that evokes Rudimentary Peni circa Cacophony before giving way to Minutemen-style woodwind fetishism. Though TFD have jettisoned the acoustic grind that closed out last year’s equally awesome Zen and the Art of Total Fucking Destruction, the nine minute closer shows that the creative well has not yet run dry for the Philly fanatics.
Even at its most relatively tame (and I do mean relatively), Peace is larded with the kind of infectious songwriting sorely lacking in a lot of other blastfests. “Non-Existence of the Self” (this album’s answer to Zen’s awesome “Corpse Position”) pries open your third eye with a corkscrew riff that slithers like the serpent kundalini.
In case you’re totally friggen obtuse, TFD remind you they’re seriously funny guys on the immaculately titled “Seth Putnam is Wrong About a Lot of Things, But Seth Putnam Is Right About You,” a battering ram drum assault paired with a sinuous bass that belies the intentionally stupid title.
Add in updated versions (Hoak has said he intends the remakes to be mantra-style repititions) of “Boxcutter,” “Nihilism, Emptiness, Nothingness and Nonsense” and “Bio-Satanic Terroristic Attack” and you’ve got 20 minutes of holy fool insanity.
Stock up your armory and light up your bong because Hoak’s apocalyptic circus is back in town.
2 comments:
This is such a good f**king record. At this point I'm digging TFD more than Brutal Truth - they've got more wild-eyed craziness.
kinda makes you wonder if danny lilker of all people was actually restraining hoak all those years. the thought staggers the imagination.
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