Introducing: SubVersion

SubVersion Stop 255: Nissenmondia:


LARGE. Local Manacles of Acid live acid houser sounds mixed with rock bombaism.

Manacles of Acid coincedentally is playing at The Bullingdon Oxford tonight with Flights Of Helios and White Noise Sound (a band I got put onto by Ronan instead of Hawkwind, who were said to be a one-original-member tribute band).

White Noise Sound haven't played Oxford in 5 years.

Stop 256:

SC's Handy New Tagging Index Smile

New stops added, including Clova Pine poem - about Clozapine medication.

800 blog views last month. Grin

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We now have well over 75,000!

Stop 260: Bjork (And Bjorkanspiel)

Feels like 25 new posts since Bjork; it's actually "9".
... joining up with Goldie - The Journeyman 3CD review on Cooking Vinyl and Metal Heads with Andy Popin

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Statto, could we reintroduce the tagging index, or did that fuck with people's lives too much?

To be honest its better i dont see it.

(4th August 2017, 16:28)Muttley Wrote: Statto, could we reintroduce the tagging index, or did that fuck with people's lives too much?

Dunno. I don't have that sort of admin powers.


Need sleep.

The annihalation of life

Think of that a bit, just a bit. The annihilation of life. This is something I have been thinking about for the last few years. Keeping it all inside. Not even speaking in the comfort of my own four walls for fear I'll be heard by the neighbours who don't really care. And why should they? It's all my inane bipolar bullshit, the residue of my pre-schizoid diagnosis. What sets life apart from annihilation is the actual process of speaking about what is going on in the world. And that's what's been bugging me, not being able to do it. Well enough of that. Understanding I need time to expand and contract verbally day to day, and that life differs from day to day on our progressive evolution, I feel more in need of expressing myself than ever before. If I can't do it through one medium, I will do it through another. So if it's not music, it's training. If it's not writing about music, it's watching fights on TV. If it's not family meetings, it's journaling like this. And so this cycle will continue. Let's start it today, Mike.

Bandcamp and its editorial coverage of new artists

Bandcamp have been kind to me, Muttley SV, over the years, so I thought I'd do a little post on what SC forum regular DIB has alerted me to in my Ambient Lovers (search: FTAL) thread...The Best New Ambient Releases article, said to be a new monthly affair by Aurora Mitchell for the time being.

Starting to listen through the music, I'm impressed by its auteurship. But Bandcamp has always been "the best new music" for me since it started in 2008, because it represents DIY projects wholesale. Gone are the commercialisations of content, the trimming of untidy strands of hair, like the throwing away of the prog solo, and most of this music is ambience and ambient based, ignorable as it is interesting, so I'm satisfied. And most of it is pay-what-you-want, so the wider public are, too.

An extra good thing with BC now is they (read: most artists) got rid of the cap on plays, which would then bring up a screen reading "now is the time to open thy heart/wallet". Fuck that - I've disabled that function on my BC site. I want people to have the freedom to stream freely, especially when we become older and realise our music on this site is reaching any kid with an internet connection who, even if they have grown up a spoilt millennial, most of the time are riches impoverished because they are not as rich in mind due to life experience. Experience is perennial to being happy with oneself, a feeling we need to generate a bit more.

The easiest way to establish yourself a fan base these days, though I'm naturally biased, is to sign up to a forum like SC, get involved, don't spam the forum with any old crap, just get involved with quality posts, and slowly over time you'll be allowed like the chump writing this to post on the main forum regularly about all your music obsessions. Music talk is free debate on Subvert, but for the sake of content interest, money is removed from the equation. Making money doesn't really exist for artists these days, you get your wage from wherever - said as a true working musician - and you go buy your Maccy D. But it never changes. Only your costs reduce. It took me a while but due to the right mentoring, at under 30, I have now built a sustainable future for my music and as an advertisement from being a featured artist on Bandcamp, over 20 accounts have subscribed.

It was only natural for Bandcamp, as well, to render its content with the Bandcamp Weekly radio station, which I think is still going, and which I've listened to a couple of times. The editors have every angle covered, they keep the site grass roots with the fifteen percent revenue share - which is fuck all if you think of all the free web hosting and nicely boxed and ribboned promotion we all get.

Poem – mrb

Tinsel Town In Scene Of A Crime; August 2017

Those woolly mammoth machines

The tanks on the horizon

Firing shells over the seashores

We’d hope they were extinct by now

Why won’t they let us be?


Bees in a hive of sweet honey

Those furry sloths

Those tinsel town furries

The cuddly truth – life, lived and huddled

The negating slurry pile outside

We must avoid the drab somedays

To mention the futile is a nun day

Few like none say

Tiles on the church floor are all splintered

Let us keep our resistance, friends

Keep the resistance of machinery

And the warmth of the natural world

It’s tinsel town in scene of a crime

Roll up boys and girls!

Father Christmas has come to play with you

Sit on his lap for a present or two

Chuckle with mince pies and mum’s cookin’ stew

Far away from the mammoth tanks

And the slurry pile of everyday life.

Tinsel town in scene of a crime.

Life beyond feeling like a lost dime,

Thrown into the sea like a shell off a soldier;

Relaxing from conflagration of aggressive boulders;

A rolling bauble gathers no moss .

And a child of the world no unkindness to throw over the trenches

Why won’t they let us be?

We knew...

We lied to father Christmas once...

We didn’t put tinsel round the tree

We lost our faith in humanity.

Posted by Muttley at 04:16 No comments:
Labels: poetry

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