Hellride Jailbreak

Frankly, it's impossible for me to imagine a cross-section of Swamp readers. In my mind you're all a wonderful blob of indescribable stench and horror, but there must be somebody paying attention out there, yes? For those loyal seedlings that are fans of both Thin Lizzy and Wesley Willis, or those just toeing the waters of madness and hilarity, or those lamenting the state of humanity and curling up all fetal-like, take heart. Sometimes the stars shall align in your favour, even if it's only for four minutes and twenty seconds. Tonight there's going to be a jailbreak, probably at the jail.
Have it your own fucked up way.

RIP

Gary Moore R.I.P.

Høst - På Sterke Vinger

Salutations, Swamplings. Tonight's early chill and threats of snow put me in the mood for some frosty windswept psychedelia. Norway's Høst ("Autumn") somehow stumbled onto the Thin Lizzy formula of dueling lead guitars contemporaneously with their Irish fellow travelers. This album was released in 1974, the same year as Lizzy's seminal Nightlife, which introduced the sound to British heads a few years before Iron Maiden made it a staple of the newly formed heavy metal scene. Like both of these bands, Høst also maintains a fearsome rhythm section, with a bass style that anchors the songs and a drummer that propels them perpetually forward. I also hear traces of underrated American band Dust too, another favorite here in Swamp town, especially in the epic sweep of the songs and the mathematically complex meter shifts. Yes, this is perfect for the mood in the air right now; let the winter come.
The album title, of course, means "On Strong Wings."

Chubby Checker - Chequered!

It was fairly common by the beginning of the seventies to see surviving blues artist experiment with psychedelia and heavier sounds to varying degrees of success. More surprising is this slab by Twist enthusiast Chubby Checker, both in the fact of its mere existence and in the fact that it's pretty damned good. Backed by a group of anonymous hippies, Chubby branches out from his usual cookie-cutter dance rehashings and gets far out, mostly in soul territory but occasionally bordering on the heavy stylings of Blue Cheer or Captain Beyond. The album has been disowned by the man himself, not only for its content but also because he was ripped off by the sketchy producer, Ed Chalpin, who made a living recording anonymous young bands performing covers of popular songs in various styles (such as the Thin Lizzy "Funky Junction" album of Deep Purple covers). It was all a big scam, but it sometimes produced good records anyway. Still, Checker probably didn't write any of these songs, and judging by the majority of his output he's no authority on the subject anyway. He sure as hell sounds like he means it, though, especially the numerous songs about drug use, such as the killer album centerpiece "Stoned in the Bathroom." Also notable is the Swamp Dogg-like dystopian future dirge "If the Sun Stops Shinin'."
My Mind Comes From A High Place

Grand Slam - Demos

Grand Slam was Thin Lizzy main man Phil Lynott's last project before his death, and while much of their recorded legacy is diluted through aggressively new-wave production, this collection is stripped of all but a few basic elements and crackles through time as the transmission of a ferocious songwriter on his final arc of productivity before the end. Even the mellow yacht rock ballads (difficult to appreciate on the band's actual studio work) sound naked and raw, allowing the world-weary, resigned ennui of the lyrics to shine through like a black beacon. Lynott seems to be writing his own will and testament at times. Of course, some of it just pure 80's cheese as well, including the unfortunate low-tech dance remix tacked onto the end. Still, it's a darkly beautiful recording full of hum and hiss and poetry, and the first track, "Crazy," will punch up any decent mix-tape or fight scene.
Part 1:
You think I'm crazy, but I'm not
Part 2:
You think I love you, I only like you a lot

Thin Lizzy - 40 Shades of Green

In the process of recovering all my music, basically the first thing I sniffed out after the Swamp Library was restored more or less intact was my (perhaps obsessively large) collection of Thin Lizzy bootlegs. Now that I've decided to basically upload all of my music methodically to mediafire over the coming months, it seems to be time to stretch the borders of the Swamp and encroach upon some new territory. It's no secret that Thin Lizzy is a favorite among many music bloggers, and I count myself among them, but much of their material is available only from snobbish, miserly tape-traders - good old boy networks of aging ponytailed wankers who snootily require a blank CD mailed through the post before they're willing to share their fourth-generation dubs, and then only after tedious hazing rituals and gratuitous obsequiousness. Fortunately, the internet, for all its faults, pokes holes in their greasy Cheeto-colored armor, allowing ephemera like this to flow freely into the hands of true fans, who only want the spread the gospel of the Black Rose.
Enough of that: let's talk about this album. My personal favorite Lizzy studio album is The Black Rose, and these, my friends, are the demo tracks from that album. One can hear prime mover Phil Lynott experimenting with tempos and lyrics, thrilling for the long-time fan, but even more important are the songs - notably "Hate" and "Just the Two of Us" - abandoned (sadly) in favor of some of the weaker cuts that ended up on the album. Also notable is the version of "Ode to a Black Man," one of Phil's best songs, which didn't surface for years until it was eventually recorded for one of his solo albums. To any of you who are unfamiliar with Thin Lizzy, I would perhaps recommend obtaining a copy of The Black Rose through your preferred method and then getting to know this double-CD collection once you've wrapped your mind around it. The rest of you might as well get down to business.