weekend at burnies 2 by sunburned hand of the man

i’m zooming in on that sunburned skullface spinning round my goddam turntable.  i’m hearing all kinds of crazed shit pour out of these huge black and wire monoliths like the mad tar ramblings of braindamaged comedians and prescription medicine addled heavy metal psychotics.  i’m thinking kill the girl save yourself kill the girl save yourself kill the girl save yourself kill yourself save the girl.  there’s a bubble in my skull and blood trickling from my nose.  my fingers are twigs my fingers twitch.  the lightbulb flickers flares and pops like a pigeon under car tyres.  stabbed cats and rats and blood and spiders in your hair and vomit cops and little kids and sweat and fuck andandand…

well if this ain’t the tastiest piece of vinyl i’ve picked up in a while.  having neither the money nor time nor patience nor shelf space i’ve tended to dip in and out of sunburned hand of the man’s catalogue.  this i believe may be record number sixty six.  a joint release from lost treasures of the underground and blackest rainbow.  a collection of oddities spewed out between 2005-2007 so it’s less the groove and soft clatter and organic jams that i’ve heard previously.  most of the tracks are pretty vocal (if that’s an accurate description) heavy.

never has fun sounded as sweatstained grotesquely distressing.  never has distress sounded like so much darkdarkdark bloody freaky fun.

side a: psychogenic fug(ue) captain beefheart muddy jazz and ridiculous cannibal corpse grunting and thrash (the wonderful, ludicrously named leather daiper / black banana) then rambling vocals and playful xylophones? bleeds into the deranged a cappella metal vocals of rat sweat.

side b: nonsense ramblings then the watery garage almost-hip hop of whale in the sky and more distorted doom squeals and shrieks and moans and roars that sound like linda blair’s lines from the exorcist fed backwards through a broken amp or coughed out by a drunk serial killer.

it’s all vaguely amusing in a wrong way and features the word toilet.  limited to five hundred copies, with each hundred printed on different colored vinyl.  i got the blue one.

that’s not ice cream man don’t lick it.  the ice cream man is dead.  no fucking ice cream.  he’s fucking dead.

sunburnedspace / sunburned label

anyway here’s an oldie:

rivershine by sunburned hand of the man

and a movie: