NEW Ô PARADIS ALBUM AND TRIBUTE DISQUE SET
FOR NOVEMBER. WORLD HOLDS BREATH.
by Dandiford Y. Lion
BARCELONA, SPAIN - From the rolling hills
north of this Catalan metropolis comes a new
collection of Mediterranean poetic pop. The
preceding years have shown this one man recording
act to be a versatile, surprising and highly
personal project by the enigmatic Demian. This
November brings both a new Ô Paradis album
entitled Nacimiento and a tribute CD
featuring interpretations of Ô Paradis songs by
his friends and contemporaries around the world.
This tribute, Nada Que Perder: Una Celebración
de Ô Paradis, includes covers by notable
artists such as David E. Williams, Naevus,
Mushroom's Patience and twelve others. This
reporter has been provided with an advance promo
of both this and Nacimiento, and I must
say... good golly. What an action-packed joyride.
landing at Barcelona's Demian Nada
Intergalactic Spaceport, I quickly
ran through customs despite the protests
of security mercenaries. "No time to talk,
kids. I've got an important interview to
conduct," I clarified. I jumped into a
rental hovercraft, threw its owners to the
curb and jettisoned off to a nude beach to
catch a bit of sun. Several hours later, I
recalled the purpose of my trip and
redirected myself to Demian's mountainside
artist's residence at first struck me with
a sense of awe at its understated elegance
and electrified razorwire fencing. "Nasty
business that would be," I noted inwardly.
"I'll take the old-fashioned route and
gain ingress via finger-centric doorbell
activation methods." I rang.
"¿Como?" asked the help through the
"Dandy Lion here from the States. I'm
looking to pick Demian's brainian."
"Au contraire, servant. I'm gonna be
meeting the lord of the house whether you
like it or not. Now, we can do this the
easy way, or I can resort to violence.
Being a peaceful man, I say let's go with
option A. Otherwise, I'll be taking out my
puños americanos. Capisce?" The gates
precocious cover of Nada Que Perder
features a young Demian gazing out at
a world he did not yet understand.
Does he understand it now?
Demian was revealed before me with topiary
animals and frescoes depicting ancient
Japanese erotica. "Que elegante," I didn't
say, though I could have.
"I like my peace and
quiet," Demian began. "Please infer no ill
will from the butler's initial attitude. It is
his job to keep out the riff-raff."
takes a break from a musical performance
to massage his scalp.
"Fair enough. I'm on business here."
Demian reclined in his
throne and mused. "I have poured my soul into
this album. Spilled my blood. Things of that
nature. Put something like that in your
article. It sounds dramatic." I suggested that
we tour his home studio to get a first hand
view of the recording process, but he rebuffed
my request by claiming that he had burned it
down immediately following the recording of Nacimiento.
This curious (and expensive) habit was
difficult to take seriously. I played along
and suggested that we sit a while by one of
his pools and dig deeper into the album's back
involves Rorsach tests converted to audio
formats... a spilled gallon of electric blue
paint." He said many things along this line. A
small cyclops holding a tray of empty martini
glasses approached him and I cut him off.
"Enough of these pleasantries, Demian. What of
the tribute album?"
"I know nothing of
Nacimiento. One must
guess what is being born.
It was with this final obstruction that
I left Demian completely and high-tailed
it across town to the abandoned building
that Raul Lopez of Comando Suzie was
using for shelter. He was burning books
and clothing in an oil barrel and
warming his hands. The independent music
industry had been good to him. Summoning
him with stale bread crusts, I
questioned him about his approach to the
version of "Conversaciones Con Un Mismo"
he supplied to Nada Que Perder.
Lopez noted that his involvement in the
tribute was mainly based on promises of
royalties from Lapin. These promises
were not real, he later clarified, and
instead should have been interpreted
with the intended sarcasm.
"The Lapin executives said much about
the inevitable riches to come my way
after the release of this album. I took
them at their word. And now, well, you
see where I am." Lopez made hand
gestures at his new, for lack of a
better word, home. I slinked away and
boarded a plane for London, the city
well known for its most notable
resident: Lloyd James of Naevus.
would be able to give me some useful
information about one of the two songs
he worked on for this tribute. James met
with me in a parking lot he cheekily
referred to as a "car park". Leaning
against his Jaguar, Mr. James began to
quote Proust. I interrupted and asked
for some tea and crumpets for the
full-on English experience. He clarified
that, racially, he was Welsh. I nearly
admitted to knowing nothing about the
country of Welshia.
However Lloyd quickly got me to wager 50
pounds that I could name a stereotype about
his people. I failed to do so, but I refused
to pay my debt all the same. And with that, I left the
England and their muffins behind me.
Though I have scoured the Earth trying to
independently verify the details of these
upcoming albums, I have sadly been unable to
do so. Instead, I must rely on the soulless
press release from Lapin operatives. As they
dryly put it, "Nacimiento and Nada
Que Perder will be released
simultaneously in November on compact disque
and available through eskimofilms.com."
Time will tell if this is a lie.
HO ALL TO THE BORDERS...
"ALLEGIANCE TO NO CROWN" FOMENTS
by Sierra Leone
PORDENONE, ITALY - In an audacious move that will
surely inflame the still delicate truce between
England and the colonies, Old Europa Cafe of Italy
has boldly issued a 10" E.P. by Neo-revolutionary
post-colonial supergroup The Muskets. Featuring the
talents of b9 InViD of Et Nihil, Thomas Nöla, Erin
Powell of Awen and David E. Williams, the debut
album "Allegiance To No Crown" reinterprets
traditional songs of the American Revolution for a
modern audience (SPOILER ALERT: Britain loses,
creating a democratic republic known for centuries
of peace and fair play).
We spoke with musket Erin
Powell from his rural Texas compound where he was
firing a pistol into the side of his fortified
bunker in what can only be called an act of
"I played percussive bones
on this record," he began. "The rest is mainly a
blur. I'm told that the final mix is pleasing to the
ears, but I am too busy to find out for myself." He
returned to canning tomatoes for the upcoming
electromagnetic pulse attack that he believes will
"end human existence as we know it."
|We attempted to interview Mr. InVid at
his Chicago penthouse, but our cab was riddled
with bullets immediately upon entering the
Windy City. We didn't even dare to try
visiting the Philadelphia neighborhood that
David E. Williams calls home, fearing a
similar fate. Nöla did not
return any of our voicemails. We are
left to fill in the holes regarding this
What we can tell, after taking a listen to our
promotional copy, is that this record is red
and completely round. What's more, it contains
audio. Upon closer inspection, we found that
The Muskets employed the spoken word expertise
of England's Andrew King to play the part of
the nefarious King George III in colorful
vignettes between the proper songs. This adds
another dimension indeed. His smug interludes
show a despot worthy of revolt.
The classic and melancholic "Johnny Has Gone
For A Soldier" begins the record on an
acoustic yet urgent footing, while the
bombastic "Ballad Of The Green Mountain Boys"
evokes a scene of carnage and defiance.
Side B brings the album from Lexington and
Concord to Haight Ashbury with "Address To The
Ladies", before the ghostly "Come Let Us Drink
About" shows us the pre-battle anxieties of
In all, I
am left with the queer aftertaste of nationalism and
a ringing in my ears. I can only wonder how they
tackle the War of 1812.
NEW YORK TO BOSTON SHAKEN BY THOMAS
by Lord Paddington
Unverified reports on
the wire allege that several days of
well-attended, financially rewarding musical
performances by Thomas Nöla
point to New
as the likely
speaking on the
stands by his/her
were heard and
sneaking into Manhattan's Otto's
Shrunken Head, we found throngs of
audience member(s) lined up at the
door for this concert. One
enthralled fan referred to the night
as "OK" and "maybe (a culmination of
a lifelong fantasy or at least
certainly more than just) alright."
other person in the audience refused
to utter English.
holding a tuba or possibly an
helped by the
his last few
of Cement, NJ.
"I'm not used
two Muskets songs
setup for the
Rear Admiral Ichabod
of the Swiss
though he left
in the middle
of "Gert Flirts
With Dirt Shirt
devoid of any
clear purpose." He
internal clock and
heard to sing
lead on the
you? The Williams/Deppe
the good times
could not last
had to leave
and get on
Deppe & more in a state of
and Nöla share
the stage in
an act of
Deppes perform, though the audience is
only charged for one.
Next up, Western
Massachusetts. In Easthampton, a flood of paying
customers stormed through the door as opener Polly
Eurothane started into his opening number. Realizing
that they were at The Platinum Pony and not the blood
bank, as intended, they scattered, heading in the
correct direction. The remaining spectators were
treated to an intimate recital lasting until
clean and in
Indeed, this is the
part of town where
the venue they
to perform in
is located. It
performed with Polly
was given and
artists with lavish
stage to ask
there be more
Are the rumors
of a Maine
handed him a monogrammed
wiped his brow
more from me."
and Ferrao in
LAPIN ACRES REAPS FINAL HARVEST
OF THE YEAR
by Randy Lion
SALEM, MA - 'Twas upon a mild and clear
September morn that I strolled over from Lapin
Headquarters to the company garden. Talk around the
water bubbler was that another fine growing season had
come to its inevitable conclusion. The summer months
of 2014 had been plentiful ones, with a bounty of
produce springing forth from Mother Earth. Beginning
with French breakfast radishes in May, the garden
offered up beets a'plenty by July and perhaps too many
cucumbers and summer squash shortly after. The celery
mainly went unpicked, but rainbow chard provided
nutritious greens for over 4 months. The lettuce,
consisting of 4 massive heads, peaked by the end of
June and made many a salad.
For Lapin, this is
a land of plenty.
Heirloom tomatoes flourished,
with bulbous fruit of green, purple, brown and the
more familiar red. A surprisingly perennial crop of
yellow bell cherry tomatoes came up unannounced,
producing a bucketful.
herb section included lemon balm, chives,
basil, dill, rosemary and aloe vera, for sure.
But the juggernaut of the season was
undoubtedly mint. This fragrant plant spread
from a single seedling in April to at least a
dozen tributaries. The word "invasive" comes
to mind, but without the negative
connotations. It left many from the Lapin
staff with cups of fresh mint tea, harkening
back to our Marrakech days.
strawberries waited until the last moment, but
they did not disappoint. As of this writing,
kale, cabbage, green tomatoes and a couple
sunflowers continue their futile attempts
against the oncoming frost. We hold little
hope for them. But that is nature.
As the season
concludes and we look towards pumpkins, we
praise the soil gods for their generosity. At
the Midwinter human sacrifice, Lapin staff
will happily spread the flowing blood across
winter's frozen ground in hopes of a
successful 2015, as is our custom.
NÖLA FOUND BEGGING ON THE STREETS FOR
by Pierre Shovel
SKID ROW, LOS ANGELES, CA - The
Lapin Herald has just recently
confirmed the disturbing details of
Thomas Nöla's downward spiral into
obscurity and financial ruin. While
trying to gather together the meager
funds needed to press his latest set
of albums, Animal Soul and Animal
Clouds, on vinyl and cassette
(respectively), Mr. Nöla
has simply proved
himself to not have
"what it takes" to be
an underground cult
music figure of
took the first ship to
Los Angeles to see the
depravity first hand.
street urchin from
L.A.'s colorful Skid
Row neighborhood named
reported seeing Nöla
from time to
time under a
large pile of
crying in a
talk about his
had to get to
the source of
the story, so
I scoured the
came upon a
bank and found
at a booth
the $2 he
needed for his
"I'm not proud
of what I've
could buy me a
or maybe a
into a nearby
made us both
sat down to
talk. He was
"I had dreams
come to this."
sipped from a
2007 I played
to a full
even made it
"But if I want
to put these
out, well, I'm
gonna have to
do some things
of his 2nd
went on to
details of an
began to tune
him out when
it would be
pressed on and
I had to
I headed back
to the area
after taking a
night fall. In
the neon haze
of a downtown
but make out
URLs to his
campaign to each
I am obliged
by a verbal
note that its
At last check,
money for his
bus ticket to
where he plans
to raise a
EDITORIAL: WUT THE HEL?
by Phlebus Clay
COUSINWIFE, AR - No wat's pissin
me of theas dayes? Whalefare. It's
like, why come I has too work all day
long at the fude cannery, taken pride
in my laber when some whalefear kween
with 15 igelitamutt kids gets her food
4 free from guvemint? Probably free
trailer two. Prolly a doublewide,
while I live in just the singlewide.
It's like, godamn... I'm pized off.
I walked 'round bouts my downtwon aria
the oter day and there was all kinds
of brown folk. Some of them were
Mexicans from godamn Porto Ricko. They
was carying on in godamn Mexican all
high falootin' and not osimilatin'.
It's like, you come to my country,
lern to talk ENGLISCH! It aint hard to
talk good. Lookit me.
'Slike I said the other day to my
unkle Dad. "People is godamn DUM!" My
brother Bingo's all ways provin this
point, onostly. He aint the brightest
skrewdrivor in the tulebocks.
He comed over to my traylor other day
and was all "Phlebus, I's gonna be
richer than a polecat wearin'
suspenders." And I was all "OK, what
the details to THAT be?" He tolled me
about some sissyboy plan to sell a
computar pro gram that he inveded
called DECIDE-O-TRON. He say
it suppose to make disizions for
persons who is to indycisive to make
they own disitions. You axe the
computor like "What color overalls
should I ware to the wedding this
afternoon?" or "Does I has to take a
shour this week? I feel OK as-is." You
tock to the pro gram and it tocks back
Now Bingo aint never went to emelantry
scool like I done, and he aint
edercationed and the like, so I cut
him a bit a slack from time a time.
But this was just fukkin stuped. I
saysed as much to him.
"Bingo," I talked, "That's just fukkin
retardid. Why I'ma pay my hard earned
monee for some little box of computar
magik to tell me how to live my life?
I aint need no Big Bruther. I makeup
my own mind." He starts jabberin' away
bout computar codes and some investars
from a store he calls "Gugle" bein
real intrested in his work... even
oferrin' to pay him $1,000,000 for it.
I convinsed him that don't sound right
and to just go back to tillin' the
turnip field like he's gud at.
Bingo's fukkin dum.
sorta mining her own busyness.
to get it into
my mined that
most folk in
as dirt. I was
ridin my cow
into the town
saysed to me I
gotta ware a
helmut on my
hed so's I
don't split my
skul open if'n
I fall of. I
ocifer that I
Suzie since I
was 6 month
old and I no
what I'm doin.
avenue and we
take in the
cop says "No, I'ma give you a
godamn $5 tickit, Phlebus. I
done telled you 87 times about
this. You gotta cumply."
Five fukkin dollars. This cop
was tryin to take away my
retirmint nest eg. No way,
hosay. I punched him up in his
ugly mouth and turned Suzie
back t'words home and we
Dammnit I's gettin all
agitatered rite now just
rememberin on it. Damnit. I
caint right no more. I'm to
fukkin pized of.