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-Higher Tongues-

If you do not know whoSpiritual Front are, I don’t want to know you. Truly these are finest songs to listen to as we commit suicide on the Las Vegas strip.

Personal Favorite: Jesus Died in Las Vegas

Is it November yet? No? Fuck you and go listen to November Novelet anyway.

Favorite: I’m rather partial to Sacred Man, I must say.

Has your cabaret-dancing paramour contracted a deadly case of Algiers Vapors? Have the Germans killed a lot of men in your family, lately? Maybe you’d like a little Babx. Just little, okay now? We don’t want you jumping off the Eiffel tower in all your glorious Gallic ennui.

Favorite pick: Favorites are such a bourgeois… oh, very well, listen to “Kamikaze”, if you must.

Today we take a look a band from my old stomping grounds, none other than the Minotaur-obsessed fitness enthusiasts of Benchpress 3000. Loud, fast, and sweaty, they were dressing in absurd late 70’s/early 80’s fitness garb long before it (once again) became fashionable.

Personal favorite: There is No Pain in Weight Gain, a rallying cry against muscle-building supplements. Put down that shake, eat a fucking steak, indeed.

Bain Wolfkind! What can be said about him? Due to my complete lack of research for this article, I’m going to say: He’s from Australia. Also, his music just happens to be fairly awesome, in a violence-laced blues/lounge sort of way. So go listen to it.

Personal favorite: Sailor’s Blood, a high-distortion blues tune of lust gone wrong and murder gone right.

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From The Conet Numbers Project, being a collection of such esoteric government transmissions.

Do you have a taste for electronic music that isn’t all beep-boop-beep-(is the amyl nitrate kicking in yet)-boop? Are you intrigued by the idea of a hot Mexican chica with a voice reminiscent of Nico? Want to know what it would be like to be sung to by a despondently sultry, hispanic computer?

Then turn your ear-holes to Veneno Para Las Hadas. (That’s “Poison for the Fairies”, for you monolinguistic readers.)

Personal favorite: “Jetlag”, a perfect little ditty for keeping yourself loose and limber as you drive way too fast down empty highways in the dead of night, itching for a fatal accident. As an added bonus, it’s in English!