2020: White Power Outage, vol. 1 (CD in jacket)
2018: No State Solution (7" record)
2017: Outside the Comfort Zone (CD in jacket)
2015: Freedom of Movement (CD in jacket)
2012: The Freedom Fence (CD in jacket)
2010: Klezmer Musicians Against the Wall compilation (CD in jacket)
2004: Aerial Bombardment (CD in jacket)
2000: Our Lady of Eternal Sunny Delights (CD in slip case, digital files with insert art)
1998: The Rising Tide Sinks All (CD in slip case, digital files with insert art)
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I showed up last May, a castaway on the Mayflower. and to the dismay of the prim, proper, puritanical passengers, I disembarked in double-breasted disco duds, dark glasses and a doo-rag, and caught a ride in a push button Plymouth Valiant with a pirate flag and putrid emissions, on a run to score a bag from a guy who was gay, but was calling me fag. don't call me that, I'm as straight as a man of integrity, I'm as upright as a mass media celebrity, I'm as uptight as a butler name Bentley throwing flowers to the ladies intently. Those ain't no ladies, those are transvestites, transcendentalists, dental school dropouts and trapeze impresarios imprisoned in women's bodies, interested in if I had brought them any April showers, offering me golden showers, selling psychic readings with supposed supernatural powers to support hours after hours of heroin habits.
So, I headed out on my own and laid low until I lost my mind for a little time. Pissed in the public parks, slept in the primordial sewers, chewed shishkabob lambs killed by the skilled hands of Ichabod Cranberry who supplies his own skewers. That ain't no lamb! That's me from a man. So, I said goddamn, threw up and thought up a new plan.
Snuck my way into some bridal banquet with the old tidal wave floats all boats scam. Thought I'd trick them with a little trickle down triconomics. Hey, he ain't no expert! Someone exclaimed triumphantly when I tripped myself up and gave myself away with a puddle of pus dripping down from my trichomoniasis. Pretty sneaky sis! Busted before I even got to kiss anyone's hand, grab a handful of hors d'oeuvres, give the bridesmaid's hand in marriage to the guy with the horse and carriage, or give the bride away to the chauffeur and drive away in the limo.
Instead I got tossed out to stare through the window, wondering why. Saying what the hell. Well, that's the people in the know in there. They know how to get in anywhere. They know how to get down so low under there that they can't wear any underwear. They get under your skin. They let the sun shine in.
That ain't no sun! it's only a tanning lamp. So don't walk into the light. It's not the light of the lord. It's the light of Darth Vader's sword. It's the Lord of darkness. It's dangerous and deadly like the covenant's arkness. it's the conniving man from Arkansas. It's the man who was killed for what he saw. It's your kids on the seesaw. It's the old sawing a woman in half trick. It's the old woman at halftime who talks like a hick. It's the other half of what made you sick. It's the maid that made your pillow so thick. It's the pill your fish swallow when they have the ink. it's the people we follow we have a chance to kick. It's the kick in the pants that gets us working. It's the slap on the bottom that starts us breathing.
It's getting knocked down that makes us stand up. It's getting knocked up that kicks so much sand up, into the face of the bully. Explaining myself fully in the face of tradition. In defiance of the norm. Into the porn theater so I could get out of the storm, and buy some popcorn. Would you like some butter with that? That ain't no butter! It's the goo that drips down between the seats. It's the stuff that some swallow, but nobody eats! Ahhhhhh! I went with screaming insanely into the streets. I got carried away by the souls of my feets. My soul got carried away, but my body repeats this gibberish over Free Radicals beats.
Free Radicals sends a new collection of Palestine solidarity and anti-genocide music to the world, and to our rapper and
friend Beesh in Gaza.
Without a phone, electricity, food or water, and with bombs dropping all around him and his daughter, we hope he's still alive and not in pain....more
supported by 5 fans who also own “That Ain't No Lamb (feat. D-Ology)”
Like so many others, this came like a bolt out of the blue and, even though it's well before payday, I had to have this astonishing album on vinyl to prove it exists. The feel of the tunes makes me feel like the Impressions do, Curtis Mayfield, the big spaces and instinctive horns and stuff drifting in and out. Great grooves and I can see lots of ghosts nodding along to this with big smiles on their faces. At last! Anthony Cottrell
Experimental hip-hop from this New York rapper where knotty, introspective rhymes unfurl over expansive ambient production. Bandcamp New & Notable Oct 17, 2023