Avant Garde

The Music Is Free, But You Have to Pay for the Plastic, Paper, Ink, Glue and Stamps by Jeff Hunt

"The Los Angeles Free Music Society didn’t just fly beneath the cultural radar in the 1970s: It roared beneath it, as low to the ground as it could possibly get, screaming and shrieking like a nitro-swilling, flame-belching, drag-racing funny car. And maybe that bit of era-specific, Southern California imagery is apt. These guys weren’t like other collectives in 1973, spouting polemics or Jesus Freakin’ and living off the land. They were running amok through the concrete fields of Los Angeles, just plain Freakin’...."

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A Pigment of the Imagination by Jeff Hunt

"...These ideas gripped Dubuffet, and dragged him toward a sphere of obsessive creativity that was harrowing in its rigorous isolation and self-contained fecundity. He delved deep into the creative compulsions of those deemed “outside” of society, individuals whose imprisonment and/or madness precluded any serious consideration of their self expression, people for whom society—high, low, or otherwise—was no more accessible than the surface of the moon. Within the cells of prisoners, the minds of psychotics, and through the eyes of the mentally ill, Jean Dubuffet found the purity and persistence of vision for which he yearned..."

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Welcome Back My Friends to the Boat Show That Never Ends by Jeff Hunt

"It entered our dimension through some appalling portal in 1968, an unspeakable Cuthulian horror that's never, ever going to leave. It lives deep in the ocean, and waits for the humans to summon it via ritual invocation at the RV and Boat Show."

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Charles Foster Kane In the Jurassic Sunset by Jeff Hunt

"...It’s difficult to fathom today. The maturation of rock ‘n’ roll happened with immeasurable velocity. It was a subatomic chain reaction. In the blink of a mind’s eye, music exploded from Elvis 45s to Sgt. Pepper’s; from “How Much Is That Doggie In the Window” to “Interstellar Overdrive.” One moment there was just the 45 RPM disk in a plain paper sleeve, dutifully waiting to inseminate a malt-shop jukebox; then there were phonograph albums, issued strictly as knock-off asides and cash-in novelties; and then, in a mushroom cloud of self-awareness and self-realization and self-actualization and self-indulgence, the album was The Album, the means to the end, The Alpha and The Omega of Rock. And they saw that the LP jacket and its inner sleeve were naked, and the Children of Rock were ashamed...."

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Astride a Sound by Jeff Hunt

"Paul Duncan hails from the edge of the Piney Woods region of East Texas, where that state begins its lazy, humid segue into Louisiana. He lives in the sub- and pan-cultural particle accelerator that is New York City. And as a singer, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, he is one of the most versatile and forward-thinking talents you're likely to encounter."

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Not Everything That Rises Must Also Converge by Jeff Hunt

“A lot of new music boasts of a good time, but it ends up being the same caffeinated sugar water in a fancy plastic bottle, completely lacking in nutrients, life, and anything that’s good for you. Peg Simone’s new music begins from pure places like poetry, the spoken word, the human breath, feedback, the mystical side of folk and blues, and the effect is icy water coming off the mountain, tasting of soil, rock and organic matter; you want to drink it and let it drip down your neck.”
Black Francis (The Pixies)

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