Artist: FLAHERTY/BILL NACE, PAUL
Title: No, The Sun
Label: Open Mouth
"Edition of 250. Typically, the release show for this LP was busted. Some young pud officers falsely claimed theyd had a noise complaint and shut the thing down, shining lights deep into the ocular orifices of both Flaherty and Nace to make sure their souls were not harboring weapons of mass destruction or something. Such reaction remains sadly typical of the thought crimes perpetrated against those who would think in free-flowing curves during this new Fascist Century.
William Bill Nace and Paul Pops Flaherty are two of the finest side-sliding brain wranglers in the greater New England area. Flahertys saxwork has been well known for decades, and is personally responsible for hitching many young mules to the free jazz wagon train. Naces guitar stylings are a more recent development, but they have hewed to such an idiosyncratic path that their constantly renewing techniques feel as timeless as butter.
Not sure exactly how these guys fell into the same boat. Presumably Chris Tigercat Corsano was involved. He had, afterall, maintained a long-running eponymous duo with Flaherty as well as one called Vampire Belt with Nace. So that may have been the key. Perhaps the twod get together to jam along with the TV set when Corsano and Bjork would appear on some laye night program. Maybe thats how it started. But whatever the case, the combination of Flahertys long wiggling shrieks and Naces amp-rasped string-explosions is a lovely totter into the abstract eye of a very hot furnace. There is tons of high-aktion skronk on this LP without any kind of apologizing about lack of formal content or linear development (both codewords for bullshit). This mother just GOES.
And its sure to appeal to anyone who also likes going. Especially if they hate fucking cops. (Note: the cover art by Rick Fang Myers shows two Bobbies being melted by UFO lasers.) Or even if they just hate Rudy Giuliani, which, presumably we all do. Imagine this as a very loud bullet slowly pushing its way through Rudys skull and just wallow in the pleasure of it all. Yum!" -Byron Coley