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2/8/2015 CliveAnders 5813 CliveAnders
4 stars [3 Votes, 4.17 Stars]
Latest Chat12/30/2019 5:05:57 PM EST
aaronlife: Yeah Elephant those were fertile fun times, happy holidays fizzpeople
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Latest Comment 4/1/2019 9:50:10 PM EST
Whisper Scream (take 3)
boygenuis: After listening to this on repeat a bunch, I think I can find a place for this in my collection.
Latest Backstage 2/2/2015 1:44:36 AM EST
Sold a Fool
ghengus23: great down dirty country rock feelin' from the start. Reminds me of social distortion. Not sure if...


135 Tracks Reviewed
503 Comments Posted
Yays: 5  Boos: 3
Critic Score 2/10
Joined: 6/5/2006

Average Rating: 2.5 stars

Cobainsaxsolo [10/25/2010 1:12:54 AM EST]
Score: +1
Garry came to me tonight in a powerful vision.

Since hearing this song, this mesmerizing friedjazz0001, I feel I have been swept up in some kind of trippy psychic vortex powered by forces way beyond my limited understanding; like friedjazz0001 plucked a string on the universe's cosmic guitar and I have been involuntarily dancing like one of the pied piper's helpless mice, incapable of stopping, of wanting to stop; letting the melodies of the multiverse just lead me to dimensions more real that the realest real this reality could ever muster, brohammers and hammerettes.

I can only imagine what friedjazz0002 could do to me and the universe. But I digress.

Anyway, in this dreamquest I just went on, I stood at the end of a long, deep and resplendent corridor. It was dark but somehow it felt like regal, a gilded. It had no beginning and no end, sort of like friedjazz0001. So Garry shambled toward me along this corridor, and it was as if we were starring in a movie made for us, by us, to be performed for all eternity.

When he existed, Garry leaked. So in the dream he left this trail of ooze behind him. I wanted to run to him, to my obscene-affront-against-nature-dead-retarded-mutant son, but I was frozen, paralyzed, moreso than usual, by the inexplicable dictates of the dream world. This of course was excruciating for me as each step in his tortured lumber, in this, this hellish crab-crawl, toward me seemed an eternity. I wanted nothing more than to roll to him. Oh to hold you once again, Garry!

Anyway, Garry had his cute little plastic synthesizer around his neck, each key a bright, fun-color, smudged with his supparating excrata. He suddenly stopped in front of me, and with a passion that was almost human, played friedjazz0001, the whole thing, down to the last pointless warbling sound that serves no purpose other than to make a sound that is unpleasant to any living thing.

Upon finishing the song, my horribly deformed retard monster abomination of a son looked at me with such feeling (I stepped back because I remembered that look usually just meant he needed to feed) and I whispered, "I love you...." He scuttled in a figure eight, leaped in the air twice, and slammed his head against the wall four times. That was his secret language for, "Garry love mother too." And then he vomited.

He kneeled down in the rancid gut-waste and scrawled a mysterious message that I managed to catch a glimpse of before I was thrown into achromatized wakefulness. It's a message that, as I sit here typing furiously, trying to make sense of my life post friedjazz0001, remains emblazoned in my mind's eye.

In his own phantasmagoric barf Garry wrote one word, over and over, goFlooC, goFlooC, gofLooC...
Cobainsaxsolo [10/21/2010 12:03:49 PM EST]
Score: +1
This song really got me choked up. It's not often I think about my other life as mother. This isn't easy for me to explain; to talk about this part of "me." It's difficult to talk about with people who are an intimate part of my life, let alone strangers on a website. But I will do my best.

I loved my son, Garry. Although there was strong and vocal group of bio-ethicists who opposed the use of that word for the unspeakable horror that issued forth from my curdled womb, I loved "him" as if it were a full fledged member of our species. They said it shouldn't have lived more than a few months. But they didn't know the sustaining power of a mother's love.

As most of you know I am a wheelchair-bound lesbian. But before that, I was a mother. Oh God, was. And while what came out of me that day was an abomination before nature, I loved it, so much. It's brain was both the size and shape of a peach pit, sure. And the malformed skull that protected that peculiar brain was a stomach churning collision of warped plates coming together improbably to create one of the most grotesque heads nature has ever designed, I'll concede that. Ok, atop that head was a erratic scattering of tufts, the consistency of Brillo and the color of a rotten eggplant, sort of like what you might imagine Grimace's pubic hair looking and feeling like, but he was mine; Garry was mine.

Instead of language, it/Garry had his own alien method of communicating through a combination of gurgles, incohate howls, and a sort of spastic, leaping semaphore. I remember the primitive idiot-dance it would perform when it wanted its favorite toy -- a little synthesizer I got him.

Anyway, he composed a piece of music almost identical to this one (I thought Garry's was better, but that's a mother talking) the day he died on this 3rd birthday. So that's why this song hit me so hard. It reminded me of the music my horribly deformed, devastatingly retarded (practically) brain-dead toddler son made when he was dying.

Thank you for the memory.
Das das das
Cobainsaxsolo [5/17/2010 9:09:12 PM EST]
Score: +0
Oh no! This song didn't have a point! Someone hold me!

Sometimes you Redfizzers can be a bunch of fags and, not in a cool way. No LOL. You hear me, no LOL! This thing still holds up better than most of you can hold up your dispirited peckers. No go make something interesting, god damn it.
In The Evening
Cobainsaxsolo [5/10/2010 3:21:29 PM EST]
Score: +0
That's what a J.G Ballard orgasm sounded like, just about the same length of one, too.
Willie The Barber
Cobainsaxsolo [4/9/2007 2:37:44 PM EST]
Score: +1
Rated 1.5 stars
When I saw all these "children's song" comments I got excited. I thought to myself, Kurt and Dave said basically Nevermind was pertty much a bunch of catchy children's songs given a hard rock overhaul. You can imagine how annoyed I was upon hearing this song. It lacks melody, a hook, and most importantly a reason for being. I just don't get the praise for this one. And I, apparently, have exactly a half-star more amazing taste than our fearless leader here.
people keep disintegrating
Cobainsaxsolo [2/3/2007 6:30:13 PM EST]
Score: +0
Rated 4.5 stars
I really appreciate this song's powerful social message of a) disintegration and b) na-na-na-na-nana, na-na-na-na-nana.
Noel's Harbor
Cobainsaxsolo [1/26/2007 3:44:26 PM EST]
Score: -10
Rated 1 star
Perhaps the most sexless thing to be #@&%!ed into existence in the history of mankind. I don't know what you could possibly be thinking, chickadee, you wierdo. Noel's Harbor sounds terrifyingly blanched. It's the kind of place where no one can tell the difference between who is real and who has been hijacked by body snatchers. I'm tentaive to agree with qualcomm on this. I'm not exactly sure what he means, specifically, by crap or crapheads. But I think he may be on to something...
Cobainsaxsolo [1/24/2007 10:57:31 PM EST]
Score: -10
Rated 1 star
This seems leeched of any spontanaiety that you expect out of jazz. A real yawnfest, man. I'll take feelingless jazz that exites and titillates over this well-intentioned snoozer any day.
Apocalypse Now
Cobainsaxsolo [1/24/2007 10:54:23 PM EST]
Score: +11
Rated 0.5 stars
This song is bad. But that is not enough. Many songs are bad around here and on the radio and all over the damn place. But there's something special going on here.

It's not just that the girl is ugly, it's that despite her ugliness she tarts her self up in wet lipstick, a short, tight skirts, and transparent Taylor Rain porno pumps, stumblebumbling around in a sad pantomime of eroticism. Instead of knowing her doomed lot in life and quietly brooding in self loathing in a dark corner this ugly girl wants to draw as much attention to herself as possible so she can argue with every reasonable fellow who happens by and says, "Run along dear."

It's so exquisitely bad it has forced me out of my redfizz retirement. These lyrics are so god damned wonderfully lame I keep expecting that "gotcha moment" when some idiot from the E channel jumps out to say we are all on a new reality TV show in which people are tricked and whatnot. It hits all its marks. Right from the distant thunder introduction to the invocation of the Styx River. A symmetry of cheesey cliches forming Voltronically into a musical bromide larger than its parts.
Cobainsaxsolo [10/21/2006 9:32:16 AM EST]
Score: +0
Rated 3 stars
Sing, you realize that most of that nebulous cloud of music you are always condemning as "retro garbage" is so much better than the whiney, Indigo Baby storybook-oh-what-about-me-and-my-feelings- vag-core you are so fond of (because you are a sad, unimaginative little creature with a vulgar, dopey, cro-magnon aesthetic) that math is incapable of coming up with a tally. This song is fine. It lacks verve, is a bit repetitive and runs long at 5 minutes plus, but I agree with qualcomm. the insticnts are there, and that counts for a lot. When you describe this music, and say bands like The White Stripes, as "retro indie garbage #@&%!" that means we may theoretically have to hire word engineers to invent new models to describe the god awful depths to which you and your croines navel gazing muzak is lowered to.

Cobainsaxsolo [posted during evaluation]
Score: +0
Rated 5 stars
That is all.
The Years
Cobainsaxsolo [9/26/2006 10:18:45 AM EST]
Score: +0
Rated 1 star
Democracy is a terrible thing.

This song. Jesus it reallly...ohahhhhhhhhhh...Oh sorry I was yawning. You se because this song is boring. Get it? I don't think people understand what rock means or else they wouldn't throw the word around so casually. This trifle rocks about as hard as a dandruff powdered strand of Michael Bolton's (or 80's incqarnation Jamsmith's for that matter) hair-lank pulled from one of his 24-karat gold, emerald studded Princess Royal brushes. .
set me on fire
Cobainsaxsolo [9/26/2006 10:11:13 AM EST]
Score: +0
Rated 0.5 stars
Injured retarded amputees using their stumps and a washboard could do better.

Who are also on fire.
Cobainsaxsolo [9/26/2006 10:07:37 AM EST]
Score: +0
Rated 1 star
This sounds like the big finale at the center stage of "Rock-and-Roll Village" at a Bush Gardens music themed park. Safe. Trite. Repetitive. Vetted carefully for anything idiosynchratic or original. Remember that time? When we did that thing? When we experienced that stock emotion? Aw man...yeah.
The Star Spangled Banner
Cobainsaxsolo [9/4/2006 9:37:39 PM EST]
Score: +11
Dear Redfizz community,

In light of the upcoming of five year anniversary of the terrible tragedy of the terrorist ambush of 9/11 I am taking up a collection to build a memorial for Jamsmith's treasured memory which perished that dark, dark day.
(Any additional funds will go to purchasing a cape with the letters JS emblazoned in its rich chatreuse fabric.) It's least that we can all do for all the sacrifices he has made looking up Wahabbiism and knowing this obvious fact about the Saud family and letting us know that he knows.

In coming months i'll be taking up a collection so that aaronlife can continue his research on all the conspiracise Etc. (Although this may be misspent given how obvious it was that the building was leveled as part of a controlled demolition.) Also collections will be taken for Mr. Bratty's ongoing work in the important field of vapid cliches and obvious sentimentality.

Come on people, open your wallets...and your hearts.