*Insert Kobaïa nerd joke here*

So what we have here is the Magma singles collection. Now, I want you all to sit there and ruminate on this one here for awhile. Magma, the group known for their epic-length tellings of the trials and tribulations of the good ol' people of the planet Kobaia have a collection (albeit a brief one) of their nice, little, concise non-album pop singles. Well, pop for Magma. And guess what, IT'S PURTY DAMN GOOD. The first few tracks are filled with all these little mutant-samba riffs and horny horns, kinda like nuclear damaged Herb Alpert, but with the all-too-fun trademark Magma operatic shriek vocals. I call this whimsical little CD to your attention, however, for the last track, "Mekanik Machine." Oh mama, "MEKANIK MACHINE." This is Magma recast as a funk band from hell, picking up the gauntlet that "De Futura" (off their Udu Wudu LP) dropped by its lapels and kicks the living shit out of it. It's that good.

HEAR FOR YOURSELF

File under: underrated

Nothing else to be said.

"Oh my god, Darby's dead!"

Oh me, oh my, we have a special treat today! What we're workin' with here is the Angry Samoans live in 1983 at the Mabuhay Gardens in my lovely residence of San Francisco. I got this in trade prolly about 7 or 8 years ago from the dude who taped this, so I can't imagine it's floating much around this newflangled interwebs of yours. The nerdy archivist in me wishes I had a more precise date than this, but the '83 vintage was enough to make me nervously wring my sweaty hands in anticipation of he bountiful rock delights contained within. You see, Back From Samoa came out in 1982, and as anyone who doesn't eat their own snot is aware, IT IS ONE OF THE BEST GODDAMN RECORDS OF ALL TIME. And for once, the needless to say introduction is appropriate, as this tape freakin' rules. As such, it provides a nice contrast to when I saw the Samoans at the Pound around 2000, which had Metal Mike pretty much looking the pint-sized crypt-keeper you see above, except with the addition of a rather fetching Britney Spears backpack. The show was hilarious and awesome, but for entirely different reasons then it would have been in the early '80s. Such is life.

Time to fuck

P.S. Oh! Oh! Until I spun this bad boy today, I had totally forgotten that the dude threw on the MIA set that he taped that night. So yeah, you get MIA too. So to clarify: Tracks 1-22: Samoans, Tracks 23-35: MIA. That is all.

Q: How have I never heard this song before?

A: Because even I can be a chump sometimes.

I picked this up yesterday solely because it was a Rufus Thomas (of "Walkin' The Dog" fame) 45 for 2 bucks. When I got back to my buddy's place we poured some spirits and threw this bad boy on. OH MAN. Kinda thing that makes me wish I wasn't a honkie with no rhythm. That break! That fucked-up-ass guitar line! OH MERCY! New favorite song.

P.S. Mine sadly does not have the sleeve. Oh fart.

Space in your face.

Although I can't imagine it's too crowded of a field, I'm gonna go out on a limb here and christen Steve Hillage the king of space rock guitar. There's just something about his combo of shreddy/spacey hott lixx and atmospheric tone that keeps my panties all moist. Although all his solo albums have style for miles and miles (not to mention his almighty playing on Gong's You album), this here little live-at-the-BBC doodad contains enough rock power in it's tiny confines to make you forget that ol' Stevie's playing an acoustic on the cover. Just dig on the disco-ish beat and illuminati references on "New Age Synthesis" and the punk riffs on the speedy "1988 Activator." (Hillage jammed with Sham 69 back in the late 70's) Wild, man, WILD!

Unzip that zype!

My Love Is Simple!

Good hello all, and welcome to Eat My Dump, a fabulous blog of wonderment and joy for all. Within these digital walls you'll be able to find what makes me tick-tock, mostly of a musical variety. To start, I give you the discography of the band that bequeathed my namesake, the most magical THROWN UPS. These guys started in the late 80's (I do believe, and am to lazy to look up) and consisted of grown-ass men who should've known better. Like shitting your pants on a hot date, the Thrown Ups are out to bum out your party.

Enjoy