Nat Roe of WFMU has uploaded 10 seconds of every hit song from the ‘70s on SoundCloud. Holy cow, Nat! That’s a lot of hard work and serious dedication. He says he’s going to tackle the ‘80s in the next few weeks. I can’t wait for that one!
Go to WFMU to hear every hit from the 50s and 60s.
I’ve put together an exclusive hour long music mix for New Jersey’s WFMU radio station, for the show ‘Do or DIY’ hosted by People Like Us. It’s available on line from 8pm to 9pm tonight, then it will be archived. The mix encompasses off kilter electronica, opiated indie and blissful horror film scores, including pieces by The Anti Group, Ennio Morricone, Wire and Bachelorette.
Playlists and archives for Graham Duff on DO or DIY here.
Below, Graham Duff as “Brian,” tripping, in Ideal:
As seen on WFMU’s mighty “Beware of the Blog”: If you are a fan of outsider music, The Shags, and/or feral children, then the “music” of Amanda is probably right up yer strasse. You could even think of her as a much, much younger version of Ari Up, when she was first fronting the Slits as a 14-year-old. Or not, maybe it’s just a kid mucking about sans any inhibition. You decide!
The “Amanda” recordings have emerged as an unexpected cult sensation on my WFMU program over the past two years. The chronicles feature Amanda Whitt, a growling (think Cookie Monster), defiant pre-pubescent with a Southern twang spewing mayhem over 1980s breakbeats and disjointed shards of pop hits. On some tracks Amanda shrieks while clanging pots & pans. The recordings exude undeniable charm, but there’s nothing cute about it. Any sentient adult witnessing this behavior would commence punitive action or summon law enforcement.
Power-child Amanda was recorded between 1986-89 at home in Alabama, between ages 8 and 11, by her older (by 7 or 8 years) brother Joseph (a.k.a. Jody). Joseph and Amanda were a couple of hyperactive kids pretending to be, respectively, a music video director and a child star. Most recordings were captured on cassette, others on video cam, in the lowest of lo-fi. The duo sometimes enlisted friends in the frolics, and often drove their parents crazy (with incidents caught on tape). The most durable performances were titled (e.g., “The Pickle People,” “Horrible Hybrid Tulips,” “Indian Hoots Echo Baby,” “Me Swinging in Cookieland”) and compiled on “albums,” whose design awkwardly replicated the commercial cassette format. Inserts were pasted up and xeroxed, and collections assigned titles (e.g., Primitive Swagger, Monumental Whopper Turmoil Jam, Empires and 5th Dimension Perspective, and Worship Me). The recordings were not circulated beyond friends.
At age 11, Amanda began to chafe at Jody’s stage-brother puppeteering; she soon discovered boys, and the recording project was abandoned. The tapes were stored in shoe boxes in Joseph’s closet, where they remained for decades as forgotten adolescent artifacts.
A sample lyric:
I am Cookie
You must worship me
Bow before MeMe
I am your idol
I am the goddess of cookie
You will worship me
Chant before me butt-slave
Come to me at the temple of MeMe
You must worship me
Don’t mess with the power child
I control you
The Amanda recordings found their way to Irwin Chusid’s ears via home taping legend, R, Stevie Moore. Now you can hear them yourself: Stream or download here. Listen to a contemporary interview with siblings Joseph and Amanda here. (Part 2 is here)
Via various links around the Tumblrsphere I discovered this great WFMU post on Sister Irene O’Connor, the “post punk nun,” who dropped a drum machine and some echo effects behind some Catholic jams to ignite the holy spirit.
Among the sea of sound-a-like private-pressed Catholic lps that came out in the 1960’s and 1970’s, Sister Irene O’Connor’s 1976 album stands out with its primitive drum machine and spooky, echo-laden vocals. Released in 1976 on the ‘Alba House’ label, the dual-titled Fire of God’s Love/Songs to Ignite The Spirit lp features several haunting and remarkable songs, including the three below. In particular, the title track “Fire of God’s Love” strikes me as so otherwordly and uniquely eerie that I wonder how far Sister Irene’s O’Connor’s seeming solipsism extended beyond music.