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File under: fancypants hoodlum merrill nisker
the power of pussy, peaches, etc.
If I want to be bold, I'll nudge and say 'hey, guess what;
that album from 1995 that you thought was the best was upstarted
by something even better that you, slob you are, never bothered
to check out, no matter what the cost. That would be the hallmark
of the true banana boat Audion admirer bent on something worth
hearing.' Probably with those words, as I like to take it unto
myself to be to the point.
As Merrill is bursting sensuation, frustration, and control
over weak-limbed members, so too she is plaintive and sweet.
Try to imagine her swinging around her stage like Darryl Hall,
sounding like him more often than not. She doesn't, or didn't
while Fancypants. Merrill jousts, looks like John Travolta,
or a semitic Marlene with a Kid Seventies gear. Merrill Nisker
is acclaimed, by popular declaration, or exclaim-ation anyways,
the Queen of the Power of Pussy. Scream, flutter or swim, don't
fade. 'Go to the front of the stage and admire her inner lines
as she thrusts her velvet clad leg at you, discriminating Audion
voyeur that you are.'
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I am not certain
why Merrill's 1995 album Fancypants Hoodlum makes me think
of say, 1980 Fripp, but you, dear audience, are forgetting
these words as you read them so I suppose it doesn't matter.
Gzowski intimates, perhaps, but who cares. Not many guitarists
get Fripp, including Robert himself these days. I
suppose that's unfair. Fripp defines Fripp, &Co. |
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Sinclair is a stand-in for Adrian Belew's body double
on a blind date with Tony Levin, which might explain why
he plays the doppelbass like a six string banjo. I watched
him play at Fancypants Hoodlum gigs, now and then. But
between the incredibly sexy drummer and Merrill, I hardly
spent much time on the chap. So, I can't remember what
he looked like laying his instrument. I can imagine by
listening to it, but my ears are on fire, and my lease
breaker sub woofers
have the concrete floors vibrating half of the way down
the hall. I apologize (in principle) to those whose peace
has been disturbed by the object of the purpose.
Danger, Nisker's drummer is well armed. He is in some
respects (okay, speed) much like Robert Wyatt before he
fell and broke his back. There was one other musician
that I had the chance to hear often in Montreal who shares
Danger's love of speed: Oyes, a fellow by the name of
Ross Barbour. Disclaimer: Drumming is
a style-in-application type of thing. For all I know,
Danger could be (to my burning ears) rubbing shoulders
with Phil Collins, or on a cruise ship, playing salsas
for evening dancers depending on the season.
Merrill places her audience into a game of tease that
feeds, slides into, and plops like jello toward super-eight
fantasies played out in swimming pool backyards where
well worn, rather transparent bathing suits are the norm,
but for those occasions when the bathing suits are in
the wash, 'so wear something else' by the Kinks.
I knew that Merrill wanted me to think about fucking
in general when she gave me the Flexy Boy Forum and flexy
girled, but less often she would stomp and sing. The list
goes on, and I hear the band is pretty good too. Pretty
as well, what with John's lovely do, Harvey's sailor boy
good looks, and then there's Ian, the Hoodlum. Ian is
more than rather good looking; so please disregard my
statement above that implies otherwise.
If Merrill wants something from you and claims "I
don't know what it is," lie on the ground and throw
her name around.
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Oh
Merrill
You smell just like
Peaches |
Peaches
went on to join Sticky, Giancarlo, and Wolfstein in The Shit.
Merrill
opens her magic gift. 'Oh look: Jouissance in a box.'
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