RECORDS
It’s like... It’s as if... I’ve just been jumped by a crazed horde of nerdedelic hodads, stoned out on Jolt cola and chemically-treated Fruit Roll-Ups, all waving day-glo hardbound copies of Tammy Faye Bakker’s latest book, Secrets Of Make-Up And Shopping for God.
RECORDS
TURN ME ON, SPUD MEN
DEVO Totally Devo (Enigma)
It’s like...
It’s as if...
I’ve just been jumped by a crazed horde of nerdedelic hodads, stoned out on Jolt cola and chemically-treated Fruit Roll-Ups, all waving day-glo hardbound copies of Tammy Faye Bakker’s latest book, Secrets Of Make-Up And Shopping for God.
Damaged, sure. Deranged, many claim so. I find myself launched into a violent series of hallucinations (you remember them! they were popular back in the ’60s) in which I’m Zamfir playing a sonic-wipeout version of “The End” on a set of monolithic Pan Pipes in the middle of the L.A. Coliseum while being summarily flagellated by a herd of Phoebe Cates lookalikes cooing out less-than-syncopated versions of “The Horst Wessel Song,” and “Whip It” alj under the wraith-like eyes of Divine, Edie the Egg Lady and Booji Boy—the Luke, Darth and Yoda of the Ummagumma set—a scene of sonic Grand Guignol to be savored, to be sure!
What is?