An Andalusian Blog

Privilege (1967)

2009-07-30T19:10:00.000-07:00

Bearing in mind the recent death of Michael Jackson, Peter Watkins’ satirical 1967 film Privilege is of particular relevance, commenting as it does on the vulnerability of pop stars to the vicissitudes of public opinion. Other films have been made about celebrities whose careers are pre-fabricated and their lives controlled, but Watkins’ film creates a unique scenario in which control is exerted not just by bureaucrats within the entertainment industry, but also by the government and the Church.

At the center of it all is a protagonist, pop singer Stephen Shorter (Paul Jones), whose increasing discomfort and resentment stem from a lack of control over his own circumstances. On one hand there are the men engineering his career; on the other are the fickle masses, eager to conform to trends. One could easily picture Stephen becoming the subject of scandal, were his success as an "artist" to continue past the fad stage. (I put "artist" in quotes because the word, in its current usage, is more of a marketing term than anything else, used by record labels to hawk their product.)

If one hasn't lived through the experience of the pop star--having millions of adoring fans, being surrounded by hangers-on who satisfy your every whim no matter how destructive, being hounded by the media and deprived of a normal life--then one can’t fully understand what motivates celebrity behavior, no matter how abnormal, bizarre, or perverse it may seem.

Privilege is a film that lashes out at the star-making system, particularly that of the British pop music scene of the 1960s. Set in the then-near future, the film was released at a time when the Beatles were still together but had suffered a decline in popularity. Without giving too much of the film away, it can be said to depict a similar process to that which deprived (or perhaps freed) the Beatles of their much-loved uniformity and imperviousness to the press and public at large.

Shorter is a manifestation of celebrity suffocation, a dynamic performer but nervous and unsure of himself when standing in front of an audience. He’s usually being "presented" and rarely has the opportunity, or the permission, to address his fans as an individual. When he finally gets that opportunity, things end badly--or mercifully, depending on one's perspective.

As mentioned before, Privilege is a satire, and at times it resembles Lindsay Anderson’s Mick Travis films, which it in fact predates. One particular scene combines the anti-conformist commentary of Anderson’s If… with the distinctively British surrealism and spectacle of his O Lucky Man! (Another scene, involving apples, is more akin to Monty Python.)

Privilege is unusually entertaining for a Peter Watkins film--and that’s not a criticism of Watkins, merely an observation that his brilliant films do not often come this close to popular mainstream cinema. Unlike his subsequent works, Watkins did not write Privilege, save for "additional scenes and dialogue" (interestingly, much of it cribbed from Lonely Boy, a 1962 short film about Paul Anka). The story was in fact conceived by Johnny Speight, who went on to create the British TV series Till Death Do Us Part, on which All in the Family was based.

Thought-provoking and often amusing, Watkins' film may seem dated in its fashions and music (not a bad thing if you like sixties design), but in these days of American Idol, Privilege remains a social commentary well worth checking out.

Moment: rarescale plays David Bennett Thomas (rarescale records, 2008)

2009-07-30T19:01:00.000-07:00

My review of a fine disc of contemporary music by composer David Bennett Thomas can be found riiiiight about...wait...not HERE...or HERE...hold on...okay...HERE.

The Collingwood

2009-04-29T07:58:00.000-07:00

Click here for Mike Bardzik's interview with the Collingwood, an outstanding band from the Mid-Atlantic region, published in the Daily Local News of Chester County, PA.

I've been fortunate to attend several Collingwood shows. Because a reliance on preexisting genre labels can only go so far, I shall lazily crib from the band's own MySpace page: "The Collingwood mesh cinema-driven, minor-key melodies with elements of post-rock and progressive-soul, creating circuitous compositions, both contemplative and severe."

The Collingwood appeals equally on intellectual and visceral levels. As the interview reveals, their collective sense of humor deflects any hypothetical accusations of pretension.

One of the less often noted distinctive attributes of their music, and one that especially speaks to me, is an ability to translate odd time signatures and elegant complexity into something funky and danceable.

Guitarist/vocalist Chris Malinowski is also a film director whose "Alms," You Say is a beguiling and unique experimental featurette.

Back in July 2007, I wrote an article about the Collingwood for Out & About Magazine. Here it is.

The Medusa Frequency by Russell Hoban

2009-04-08T18:14:00.000-07:00

The Medusa Frequency is a short science fiction novel from the 1980s, a decade that saw film, TV and other media increasing their potential for cutting-edge sci-fi via better, computer-generated special effects. The technological conceit of Russell Hoban's novel might tempt some to label it as "cyberpunk," but its classification as any kind of science fiction would be too restrictive. True, it starts off with a struggling novelist attempting to cure his writer's block by having his brain "zapped" by a machine. But the novel, instead of becoming a Max Headroom-like story of man-meets-computer, turns into a meditative tale of romantic unfulfillment, kept ostensibly in the mythic-futuristic realm by characters that are technology-based (the Kraken) or influenced by Greek myth (the Head of Orpheus).

Hoban is an author with a great sense of humor that manifests itself in everything from character names (Gombert Yawncher, Tycho Fremdorf, Boumboume Letunga et al.) to the absurd appearances of a talking disembodied head. He's also a cerebral writer--The Medusa Frequency could be seen as intertextual and metatextual, but its references to the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, to Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring, and to extra-literary artifacts (films, paintings, music, comics) are balanced with the aforementioned wit.

But in much the same way that Woody Allen's most celebrated film comedies, while highly literate and intellectual, are ultimately about romantic relationships, The Medusa Frequency is essentially the story of a man coming to terms with lost love. For all the novel's inventiveness, some readers may feel cheated, as if they've been tricked into reading a book about someone else's (perhaps Hoban's) romantic troubles. There are times when the story's fantastical elements are treated as hallucinations, or at the very least are made secondary to the main character's anguished pursuit of his ex-lover.

Other readers may view the relationship material as poignant. The Medusa Frequency is thought-provoking and not at all superficial, and I may appreciate it more after a second reading. Hoban's better-known novels have eluded me thus far, but I anticipate reading Riddley Walker.

David Minnick: Absolutely Crabid

2009-02-13T14:43:00.000-08:00

Read my newly published interview with Sursiks leader David Minnick at All About Jazz.

Then buy the Sursiks' CD Christmas in March because it's brilliant.

I'm not asking you, I'm telling you?

(Oops! That question mark was a typo. It was supposed to be a period. The incorrect punctuation makes it seem like a question, which is the opposite effect of what I was going for. Now, you might be wondering why I didn't just go back and fix it instead of typing out this long explanation. There's a very good reason, I assure you. But it's a little complicated and I won't go into it here.)

Satire by Matthew Hodgart

2009-02-05T13:04:00.000-08:00

Matthew Hodgart's Satire is a considerably thorough overview of a literary genre that has survived since ancient times. Nowadays, when one hears "satire," one usually thinks of the media--television shows like Saturday Night Live, The Colbert Report, and The Simpsons; faux-newspapers like the Onion--and less often of classic literary works like Gulliver's Travels, Don Quixote, and Huckleberry Finn. But, as Hodgart proves, such works are often far more scathing than their representation in popular culture might suggest.

Hodgart discusses many great satirical writers at length, including Aristophanes, Jonathan Swift, Voltaire, and Charles Dickens; dozens of others are touched upon--the book is an excellent resource for anyone seeking to delve into literary satire. By providing background into the lives of many satirists, the author demonstrates the necessity of historical context in the judgment and appreciation of satirical works.

The book famously lists the necessary conditions for political satire to exist: (1) free speech, either intentionally or through bureaucratic inefficiency; (2) the spread of democratic ideas; (3) writers who are confident in their ability to facilitate change; and (4) an audience that is wide, sophisticated, and appreciates wit. Wit, in fact, is used as a weapon: too often satire is confused with parody, or worse yet, mere humor, but satire does not strive for humor as an end in itself--sometimes it's intentionally devoid of humor. Essential to satire is the author's disapproval of human vice or folly, which is attacked with sarcasm.

Structurally, Hodgart's book eschews chronological order for a detailed exploration of the topics, forms and techniques of satire. There's a chapter apiece about two of the dominant themes in satirical literature, politics and women. (The fact that an entire chapter is devoted to women as a target of satire may displease Feminist readers; perhaps that's appropriate, given the intentions of anti-Feminist satirists.)

Satire draws attention to the degree to which a satirist puts himself at risk: he could be unpopular or even hated in his own time, and the issues he writes about could be of little interest to future generations, who will consequently have little use for him. Hodgart's book was published in 1969, and in it he seems to have a pessimistic outlook for the future of satire. To the contrary, the 2000s are an interesting period for satire, given the so-called "culture wars": on one side there are immensely popular figures like Stephen Colbert satirizing the right-wing media; on the other, Ann Coulter, decidedly less universal in her appeal, whose outrageous statements offend many but have also gotten her compared to Jonathan Swift. Somewhere in the middle there are Trey Parker and Matt Stone, who have lambasted stupidity on both sides with South Park. Even movie director Uwe Boll, criticized more for his alleged ineptitude than for his point of view, includes surprisingly funny (if tasteless) satire in his comedy Postal.

Satire finishes with chapters on satire in drama and the novel, and a glance at other media. I would like to have read more on the presence of satire in film and television, but I realize that, given the date of the book's publication, many of the great film and TV satires were yet to come. Satire is an enlightening text if you're primarily familiar with satire in its 20th and 21st century incarnations.

Ail of Let Her

2008-11-04T19:23:00.000-08:00

I wrote the following for a course in Communication Theory. Students were assigned to write whatever they wanted in the form of an anonymous letter and place it in an envelope. The envelopes were then distributed to other students in the class at random, and the letters were read aloud as their authors remained anonymous. I'm proud to say that my contribution puzzled its recipient so much that he didn't finish reciting it, despite its brevity, and the teacher dismissed it summarily. (This happened at an arts college, no less.) Technically my letter is not anonymous, but it's written in a sort of code language patterned after Howard L. Chace's great 1956 book Anguish Languish:

Alarm meat two inch row deuce mice elf. Mine aim his bur add. High maze hound two four word, butt ewe aura soul of Lee--deal of Lee is tin thee hole why twirled. Almond removal of lie cures, end high minnow accept shin.

Plea steak meese eerie asleep he cause higher eel heel high cue, end hike in bee sum which eye. Mile let her risk white since ear, end high hoe pew reap lie.

Sense eerily,

Bur rad

Brownie Speaks

2008-10-16T18:49:00.000-07:00

From October 30 to November 1, 2008, The University of the Arts in Philadelphia will hold a three-day symposium celebrating legendary trumpeter Clifford Brown's life and contribution to music. The symposium will include performances by Benny Golson, Lou Donaldson, Terence Blanchard, Marcus Belgrave, and the Lars Halle Jazz Orchestra.

The symposium will include the premiere of Brownie Speaks, a video documentary that my father Don and I have made about Clifford Brown. Among other duties, I served as editor of Brownie Speaks, which is culled from several years' worth of research and contains interviews with Golson, Donaldson, Wynton Marsalis, Donald Byrd, Arturo Sandoval, and many of Brown's friends, family, and contemporaries.

A native of Wilmington, Delaware, Clifford Brown made an outstanding and influential contribution to music. In an era when many musicians were emulating Charlie Parker's drug abuse, Brown inspired others to achieve greatness while living a clean lifestyle. Ironically, he was killed in a car accident at the age of 25.

The video will be screened at the Caplan Center for the Performing Arts (211 South Broad Street) at the following times:

- Thursday, October 30 at 10:30am
- Friday, October 31 at 1pm
- Saturday, November 1 at 1pm

For more information about the symposium, including a calendar of events, visit here.

Knock Off

2008-06-18T10:13:00.000-07:00

Knock, knock.

Who’s there?

Your Doorbell’s Broken.

Your Doorbell’s Broken who?

Your Doorbell’s Broken Esposito.

I don’t know a Your Doorbell’s Broken Esposito. I went to high school with a Your Left Tail Light Is Out Esposito.

That’s my brother.

Oh, he is? Well, I’m very sorry, but I don’t usually open the door to strangers. I hope you understand.

That’s fine. I was just passing by your house, and…did you know your roof is on fire?

Know him? I married his sister!

The Industrial Jazz Group - LEEF (Evander Music, 2008)

2008-05-19T03:01:00.000-07:00

My review of the Industrial Jazz Group's CD LEEF has hit the stands. (By "the stands," I mean "the internet," and by "hit" I mean "been posted on." By "review" I mean "essay providing a critical estimate of a work or performance.")

Read it here.

KinkZoid - Further Unpleasantries (Mook Records, 2008)

2008-02-26T00:53:00.000-08:00

Their name recalls their past as members of The Blitzoids, and also—whether intentionally or not—rock music’s own past (The Kinks, Pink Floyd). But unlike the many generic indie-rock acts who strain to emulate the quirkiness of Ray Davies or Syd Barrett, Chicago’s KinkZoid is difficult to classify because their music has fewer precedents. This is one band that’s looking anywhere but backwards.

Like their previous releases, Further Unpleasantries could be designated as “avant-rock,” a label that admittedly requires further differentiation (should Henry Cow and The Red Krayola really be in the same category?). But what KinkZoid lacks in hit-single potential, it more than makes up for in originality, humor, and sheer sonic invention. While many of the sounds on display are not exactly “beautiful” by traditional Western standards, the way KinkZoid arranges and layers those sounds are, dare I say it, painterly, even if the painter that comes to mind is Hieronymus Bosch.

Perhaps best known for turning the currently jailed former president of the FLDS Church into an unlikely rock vocalist with “Warren Jeffs Explains” (from last year’s The Book of Pages), KinkZoid is practiced in the art of the disturbingly funny sample. Those abound on Further Unpleasantries, but the emphasis is on building surreal audio imagery that is apt to induce uneasy laughter.

And that’s just what the band does on each of ten meticulously composed tracks. “Holes, Veins, and Brains” matches darkly comical anti-drug lyrics with dense instrumental activity to stunning effect. “DateLine / Into the Light” suggests an out-of-body experience guided by Negativland’s Weatherman, and it contains the album’s nuttiest plunderphonic antics. KinkZoid even covers Pink Floyd’s “One of These Days” and out-weirds Floyd at their weirdest, crafting a singularly impressive piece of work in the process.

Further Unpleasantries provides a listening experience that, for lack of an already existing term, must be described as “KinkZoidian.” It may not boast the studio sheen or big-name draw of, say, a U2 album (and that alone may be recommendation for some), but its dark textures, twisted humor, and profound imagination ensure that certain tastes will find it exquisite.

Music Therapy can help more than your houseplants

2008-02-25T07:17:00.000-08:00

By Brad Glanden

When words fail to express what human beings are feeling, they often turn to music. As a means of expression, music can unify people where language barriers and ideological differences serve only to divide them. It comes as little surprise, then, that the medical profession has acknowledged the potential for music to improve a person’s quality of life, as well as its ability to reach patients with otherwise limited communication skills.

What is surprising is the fact that music therapy is a relatively new field, having emerged in the middle 20th century when visiting musicians elicited positive changes in hospitalized World War II veterans. Today, there are thousands of board-certified music therapists (MT-BCs) working in a wide variety of settings, but the layman’s grasp of the profession is typically vague.

“A lot of people don’t understand what music therapy is,” says Jerry O’Leary, who heads a Delaware Valley-based music therapy service provider called MusicWorks. “Some people picture it as some sort of invasive surgical technique.”

Another common misconception is that music therapy is merely a form of entertainment.

“The entertainment end of it is the icing on the cake,” says Cindy Cordrey, one of about 15 MT-BCs who have received their board certification in Delaware. “If you didn’t know anything about us and sat down to watch, you might not be able to understand all the things that are flying through our minds as we’re working.”

Given its wide range of applications, the profession is ill-served by a brief definition. Generally speaking, a music therapist uses music as a tool to improve a person’s state of well-being. According to the American Music Therapy Association, the field addresses the “physical, emotional, cognitive, and social needs” of its clients. Music therapy has proven helpful in the treatment of a vast spectrum of illnesses and disorders, from autism to Alzheimer’s disease, from infancy to old age. Even well people have found it beneficial.

“I like to say that it’s using music to achieve non-music goals,” says Evangeline Williams, another Delaware-based MT-BC. “Music therapists work in so many different fields that what someone does working in a neonatal intensive care unit may look totally different from someone working in a nursing home.”

While music therapy is applicable to clients of all ages and circumstances, a large portion of the work available to music therapists in the Mid-Atlantic region is directed at senior citizens, particularly those with Alzheimer’s disease, dementia, and other degenerative conditions. Joe Holt, one of many MT-BCs who have chosen to concentrate on the needs of the elderly, sees music as a catalyst for sizeable growth, particularly in Alzheimer’s patients.

“The part of the brain that processes music is unaffected by Alzheimer’s disease,” Holt explains. “Studies have shown that these patients can grow musically as they otherwise deteriorate. When you introduce music into the equation, you re-channel their activities through that area of the brain that works.”

O’Leary agrees, having found music to be an effective way to get through to individuals who are unresponsive to other forms of communication.

“Music can affect the entire brain,” he says. “You might have someone who can’t speak, but can sing. Their speech center is affected, but if you start playing a song, they start singing. Then, once the music stops, they don’t talk anymore.”

Cordrey attributes the emphasis on geriatric care to funding—“That’s where the jobs are at this point,” she says—but music therapy is by no means limited to nursing homes. Williams, for example, provides music therapy services for psychiatric patients at the Delaware State Hospital in New Castle. A number of schools and programs in Delaware also provide music therapy for children with special needs or disabilities, including the Delaware Autism Program and Very Special Arts of Delaware.

“Wherever music can go and whoever music can touch, that’s who you work with,” Cordrey says.

Music therapy sessions can be one-on-one or group-oriented, and are usually tailored to the specific needs of clients. Like art therapy, dance therapy, and other health professions rooted in the creative process, music therapy is considered one of the expressive therapies, meaning that patients often do more than just listen—they create.

“We try to maintain, if not improve, their lifestyle through music,” O’Leary says. “We get them involved. It’s interactive. We get them to play, not just sit there and listen. If they want to just sit there and listen, that’s their prerogative.”

Clients are not required to play musical instruments, though some MT-BCs find that hand drums and pre-programmed synthesizers encourage patients to participate. While many therapists utilize an improvisational format, others find equal usefulness in interactive listening exercises like guided imagery.

“People basically put on a pair of headphones in a relaxed position and listen to ambient music,” O’Leary explains. “It can be with or without a guided tour. The guided tour might be the music therapist describing a little trip up a mountaintop to a nice relaxing place, just to get the person to unwind and clear their mind.”

Williams has also had patients take part in songwriting: “It’s not that the songs have to be serious and in-depth. It can just be a fun, self esteem-building activity.”

Whether someone is composing original tunes or just reminiscing about their favorite songs, the music is a therapeutic tool—“a vehicle to express what they are feeling,” as Cordrey puts it—and selecting the appropriate music for a patient is crucial.

“You have to identify what their preferred music is,” O’Leary says. “You ask them, ‘What are your favorite songs?’ You may use them more often than a general array of songs. You may repeat them more often. It’s really important that you use the music that the client wants to hear.”

Granted, a personalized repertoire is more easily achieved in a one-on-one session than in a group, where tastes are not always uniform. In the latter setting, Williams has found her patients’ negative reactions to be just as valuable as the positive ones.

“If it’s music they really don’t like, that can maybe get them to start talking about it,” she says. “You’ll get them to start talking about the reason they don’t like it, and get them interacting more.”

Such interaction is a common goal for music therapists because it facilitates growth. A musical accomplishment, however small, can give a person confidence and a sense of purpose. It can persuade them to branch out socially, or simply inspire them to make the most of their day. For that reason, music therapists are always on the lookout for small victories, which can lead to improvement in non-musical areas.

“You can do so much with music, even if it’s just responding to a basic rhythm,” Cordrey remarks. “As therapists we know how to dress it up to make it sound fabulous.”

For more information regarding music therapy and to locate an MT-BC, visit the American Music Therapy Association.

Originally published in Living.Well Magazine, December 2007.

The Sursiks - Lydia Grace (Crabid Music, 2007)

2008-02-23T19:59:00.000-08:00

This is a fantastic album. The words and melodies just happen to be composed by a 3-year-old girl--Lydia Grace, of course--who is backed by older, but equally imaginative, musicians who call themselves The Sursiks. The songs are easy enough for kids to sing along to (naturally, since a youngster made them up), while the music is adventurous and diverse enough to provide fascination for even the most musically educated adults. That means that anyone can enjoy this album, not just "family people."

There really isn't anything else out there like Lydia Grace, unless you count I Didn't Know I Was Singing, The Sursiks' less child-friendly, albeit hilarious and brilliant, debut. (How many bands can follow up a recording containing profanity-laden, drunken tirades with a perfectly innocent album directed at kids? Not many, but The Sursiks have the talent and sense of humor to pull it off.) Sneak Lydia Grace in with the singalong CDs in the family car, and everyone will be glad you did. Your child might even learn to identify an octatonic scale.

Uncopyrightable

2007-11-17T06:38:00.000-08:00

By Brad Glanden

A vertically challenged caseophile was viciously attacked
By the woman who had asked for a nineteenth-century vivisection,
As a born-again squid let slip his secret infatuation with
The gentleman holding the spoon-fed arachnid.

Claiming ownership of the pink cathedral,
The guy with the onion took out a contract on the guy with the yam,
And the Marxist munchkin danced through the night
With some poor fellow’s cadaver.

The bourgeois arachnid giggled;
The scruffy squid skedaddled.

Originally published in Starfish Journal, Issue #6 (Autumn 2007).

Lines

2007-07-27T14:19:00.000-07:00

By Brad Glanden

One afternoon, I was standing in line for a monster truck rally. The line was moving very slowly. The impatient-looking man in front of me turned around and said, “I’m not a big fan of standing in lines.”

This well-meaning gentleman was clearly attempting to ironically understate the obvious, so he must have been taken aback when I responded that I am a big fan of standing in lines. In fact, you could say that I live to stand in lines—the longer, the better.

Let’s get one thing straight (heh): from a technical standpoint, what we traditionally refer to as a line is, in fact, a line segment. People don’t stand in lines, they stand in line segments. In truth, if you were to stand each and every person on this crazy planet next to one another, you would still only have a line segment. It’s really kind of depressing when you think about it.

Nevertheless, people stand in “lines”—unless they’re in Great Britain, where they stand in “queues”—and there is no greater testament to universal order, no stronger evidence of divine creative intelligence, than a bird’s eye view of people standing in line.

Every time I make my way to the front of a line, I’m overcome with a feeling of sadness. Then I remember that, at such a well-attended event, there’s bound to be a long line at the men’s room.

I met my lovely wife standing in line. She gave birth to our first child while we were in a line. We conceived our second child in a line (bad idea).

I even started a fan club for other people who enjoy standing in lines. We call ourselves the Assembly Line—that’s me, I came up with that. (Incidentally, I’ve also started a fan club for people to discuss ceiling fans, gas turbine fans, and antique folding fans.)

I’m such a big fan of lines that I’ve attended hundreds of U2 concerts, in spite of my burning, seething hatred of U2, because I knew each time that I’d be standing in line for hours.

But U2 concerts are not cheap, even on a porn star’s salary. I was eventually evicted from my apartment because I couldn’t afford to pay the rent. I really don’t mind, because now I get to stand in line at the homeless shelter.

Quite frankly, I’m tired of seeing all these wannabe kids standing in line because it’s the latest thing to do. I was standing in line before it was cool. I’m hardcore, baby. I’m such a big fan of lines that I . . . that . . . um . . . uh . . .

I’ve forgotten the next line.

Originally published in Tric Zine, Issue 24 (July 2007).

KinkZoid - The Book of Pages (Mook Records, 2007)

2007-03-01T15:37:00.000-08:00

Not to be confused with Pink Floyd, Chicago's KinkZoid comprises former members of avant rock trio The Blitzoids, whose oeuvre--recently reissued on Ad Hoc Records (read my review at All About Jazz)--still sounds fresh today. Blitzoid converts with an interest in the band members' current activities will be pleased to learn that The Book of Pages is even more deranged than the Blitzoids' LPs, while demonstrating considerable musical growth and even darker humor. This is not to suggest that KinkZoid’s self-released sophomore release can’t be enjoyed by newcomers; it’s an altogether different beast.

The first track, “Warren Jeffs Explains”, immediately sets the album’s tone with a musical setting of notorious FLDS president Jeffs’ interpretation of rock ‘n’ roll’s origins. KinkZoid frequently uses mutated samples from nationalistic speeches, including a syntactic faux pas or two from everyone’s favorite current president, George W. Bush. These are sometimes laid over music with a Middle Eastern flavor, outlining a recurrent theme of The Book of Pages--namely, the deadly dangers inherent in fundamentalist readings of a religious text.

Heavily treated vocals render the lyrics difficult to decipher; now and again, a stray phrase--“My telltale heart wants to poke you in the eye” from “Too Lazy to Kill”, for example--reaffirms KinkZoid’s predilection for twisted narratives. “I Was Walking” is a lyrical Moebius strip, somewhat like a MAD Magazine cover showing Alfred E. Neuman reading a MAD Magazine with a cover of Alfred E. Neuman reading MAD Magazine, ad infinitum. “They’re Burning”, meanwhile, seems to be a rant of some kind against McDonald’s and Starbucks.

The Book of Pages is outsider music par excellence, a kaleidoscope of pitch-black humor, exotic sounds, and kooky audio ephemera. Those who are partial to sound collage should give this one a listen.