Flush It Friday: Self-Obsessed
An act of self defense.
Best laid plans: am I right, forks? Oh, the post I was going to write today. It was going to be a celebration! And it still should be, but the rental market has battered me, not unlike Donne’s tripartite God, though I didn’t fuckin’ ask for it, like that freak. I just want an apartment! An apartment closer to my new job and that doesn’t cost more than I can afford. But algorithmically defined dynamic pricing, scammy third-party black-boxed background assessments coupled with even scammier security deposit loansharks, and a widespread landlord cabalism that somebody should do something about have all conspired to leave me here, sitting in my recliner in an apartment I have for three more weeks and no new lease in sight. Let’s not even mention that I put down a security deposit on a unit I desperately wanted within an hour of being notified of how to secure the unit via the deposit and somehow managed to lose the race. Well, now I’ve mentioned it. I’m so mad I’m not even mad. Do you get it?
And what was I going to write about? Rwake, of course! It’s the 20th anniversary of If You Walk Before You Crawl, You Crawl Before You Die, and I just saw them Sunday for the first time in about a decade. But since they, based on their setlist, don’t seem to care too much about the momentousness of neither that record nor its anniversary, I guess I won’t either on this self-pitying and self-loathing Friday. I’ll save that post for a later date, when I feel they deserve to have written about them what I wanted to write about them. Think about what you’ve done, Rwake. And don’t even get me started on Pallbearer, who I didn’t even stick around to watch, because I checked their tour setlist prior to, and I’m not sitting through all that to hear “The Ghost I Used To Be” and maybe but probably not even “I Saw The End.” Is “Setlist Advisor” a career? (In college, my dream job was to be a Tattoo Consultant to NBA players, because they’re too rich to get such shit tattoos.) Anyways, I’m too ornery and frowning to say nice things about Little Rock, and I have several nice things to say about it that don’t even include 1000-word posts about the most under-appreciated band in the history of metal (Rwake) and a band that isn’t any good anymore (Pallbearer). It’s a cool little town!
Instead, I’m just going to list five Self Defense Family songs from their slew of EPs in the 2010s. Back then, on the heels of the band changing from End of a Year to End of a Year Self Defense Family to just Self Defense Family, Patrick Kindlon and company released a slew of contemplative, far-ranging, thoughtfully snide, snidely thoughtful, irreverent, and serious EPs and LPs that were some kind of post-hardcore, some kind of post-punk, some kind of punk, some kind of alt-rock, some kind of something. Kindlon himself, somehow boundlessly creative and possessing an obnoxious amount of energy, also had, sometime back in 2015 or 2016 or 2017 or some year two podcasts: Self-Obsessed, which was just 30-60 minutes of Kindlon standing in a mirror and recording his thoughts on whatever; and Comp Lit, in which he and a friend, who I think was an adult film actor, compare/contrast films and/or TV shows they just watched together. Kindlon even started Drug Church amidst all this. Some people take up space and make no bones about it. At least Kindlon and all his various and varied collaborators have done something worth remembering with all that space.
So, here’s 5 songs from SDF. I don’t even know what I have to say about any of them, but I’m sure I’ll figure out something.
I think “Indoor Wind Chimes” is probably the better track from this b/w, but I’m going with “Cottaging,” because I’m sick of my own shit right now, so sing along with me: “My stories got boring / it was bound to happen / My talk went stale / that’s how it happens.” Recorded in Scotland.
Now, you’d think I’d go with “I’m Going Through Some Shit,” but it’s b-side cut “All Fruit is Ripe” that is really buoying me in its own self-drowning. “God leave Patrick alone. God leave Patrick alone. God leave Patrick alone.” But we know what being left alone by God means (he’ll drop you into Hell), so maybe I’ll go with “Devil lend Patrick some cash” instead. Nothing will go wrong then, right? Recorded in Kingston.
You know what was a great band? Creative Adult. Fuck. Take a break from all this Self Defense Family and get walloped by the bass in “Flash” from Psychic Mess. That shit’s huge. Then go listen to the Ring Around the Room 7″. That’s about as dolorous post-hardcore/post-punk can get. Woebegone stuff. Anyways: this is “Somerton” from SDF’s split with CA. It strikes me as something like Expo 70 spilling its psychedelic desert drone all over a Lungfish demo. “Who puts a hand out to me / Gently pulls on a string / I’d break any trust / I can ruin anything.”
Mood shift! Here’s SDF collaborating with Family member Caroline Corrigan on an EP that I think Wilco fans would like? It’s in a similar vein as the You Are Beneath Her EP. Let’s sing altogether now, along with Patrick and Caroline: “Stop with your stories /And set all the characters free /And set all the characters free.”
I couldn’t decide how to end this post, but then I figured it’s hard to ignore this b/w from 2015. Both “When the Barn Caves” and “Alan” are down-trodden yet defiant. That this 7″ came after the split with Creative Adult doesn’t surprise me. Imagine a world where everything Botch does is “Afghamistam.” “I’ve had quite enough / I’ll be fully blunt: / The moment has passed. / I’ve had quite enough /I’ll be fully blunt: / The moment has passed.”
Huh. Would ya look at that. I feel better. And it’s true, even if apartment hunting is designed to drive you nuts and to exploit you (you, who actively wants to give some ratfink company what little money you have!), and even if you blew it on the poker table last night and pouted like such a gigantic baby instead of just packing it in when it wasn’t your night, and even if you blew it on getting a hot summer bod for who knows how many consecutive years now, you signed your contract for your new job on Monday, and it means we’re still fucking celebrating, because this is a party, y’all, and life is gonna change, and it’s gonna be so sweet, and I can’t wait, and I’m burstingly full of love.
Let’s flush!
The Monday Press, featuring yer boi Joaquin Stick. This Toilet Tuesday, featuring yer boi Rolderathis. Blessed be them both.
Prof. Guanaco always putting in the effort on this website that, contrary to what you might have heard, still exists. Learn all about Kréen!
Review & Interview: Kréen – Ecos de Olas, Céfiros y Llamaradas
BSG reviewed a deluxe version of an album by the guys in Enslaved called Heimdal.
Toilet Radio, Episode 500 Part 2. Hell, even I listened to this one. Congrats to Joe and Jodan and Breno for all the years of work and fun.
Megachiles, Toilet ov Hell’s most fun writer, teams up with Reliquary Towers, a person who won’t be reviewing the new Alcest, to go crawling through dungeons together. Be dootiful and don’t miss this one!
There it is! The week that was in the Toilet. Slather me with your GBUs. Just absolutely drench me with ’em. It’s 600 degrees in Atlanta this weekend, and I need the relief. Love to you all, my dear friends, readers, and Eenzemies. No Wifi, No Peace!
