Tobacco | Fucked Up Friends

gretaclue   11/7/2012   A Library

Ok.. I give myself about 3 sentences before this goes to shit. Tobacco is a former member of Pennsylvania experimental band, Black Moth Super Rainbow. This is his first solo effort. He plays analog synthesizers and tape machines, among other odd noise devices. Little is known about him as he is slightly reclusive (so mysterious and sexy!) I thought, based on my love of cigarettes, the album packaging, and song titles (“get my nails did”, “street trash”, “grease wizard”, etc) that I’d be down with this. I chose to ignore the warning that Aesop Rock was on one of the tracks (call me a racist or a traditionalist, a sweet old fashioned gal even.. whatever you want, but dorky white dudes shouldn’t be rappers). Rolling Stone (may the once great music magazine rest in peace) said of this record when it came out in 2008, “one of the year’s best stoner-rock records – only it’s powered by synths, hip-hop beats and vocoders??instead of guitars.” I say that if that is the case, 2008 was a rough year for stoner rock. The track with Aeosop Rock is sub par in my most humble, but the rest is just ok. Some interesting things I could get down with. Maybe what RS meant is that this is more interesting if you’re stoned. I don’t know.. So I got stoned and listened last night. To my dismay

yeti in blue button down, as mentioned in review.

I was not visited by that magic yeti in the blue button down on the inside cover. All I could think about was “is this what hippies are doing nowadays?” just out in the forest in Pennsylvania with a tape machine and some MDMA. This is the the new hippie, I think. And no offense but I never trust a hippie. Feel free to spray hate on me for this review. I can take it.


Eulca Tergton says

Not on Christmas Dawn!

Sweetie, thank your lucky stars that dipshit in a furry suit didn't show up at your house! If he had, he'd still be there playing with a casio sampler keyboard, smoking all your weed and probably eating grass and borrowing money until the check comes in the mail from someone who live on a 5o acre farm in Pennsylvania. Yeah that last detail is the one that HAD the plum in the bear costume showed up would have tempered all the others (did I mention that he smoked the last cigarette?)". Doesn't matter anyway cuz some how, some way, that pastoral picture painting of the Pennslyvania country side with ducks, a cow and a couple of horses ride over the hills on would have still somehow duped that tight cynical little cunt of a heart and, as they say, would have kept the ball in play.

And it would have been all a bunch of blahbblabbabullshit huh? YEaAH. Of course is was-you said it yourself- You can't trust a lousy feely, beady pale pasty stinky dreadlock hippie!
He'd go away, on his own eventually like a cold sore, or gotten rid of suddenly like a crotch full of crabs. Oh, dear. and then where would we all be?

Probably wearing furry abominable snowman suits trying to sneak our way into the stoner girl's heart-shaped window at 3:00 in the morning with a bag of shrooms, xtc and the promises to make come true the dreams you've dreamed, the dreams that girls can only have dreams about:
A spaceship in the sky.
A world beneath the sea.
not a dream that only a girl can have
like finding out that while you were sleeping some bigfoot in a santa suit came down your chimney
and left Red ruby diamond studded cha-cha heels under the christmas tree.
for you.
where the real action is.
the pot party.


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