Greetings one & all, let me introduce myself; my name is Doctor Sargent Pepper. Feel free to call me Sargent, or Doctor Pepper (I know, I know), but never Sarge. You see, I was a captain in the Marine Corps, so it just gets confusing. Besides, my nickname in those days was Zagnut. What happened was, one night back on Okinawa, I cracked open a coconut with my cock. I was pretty far gone at the time to say the least! But that was years ago. And what of it? So yes, Zagnut is off limits & Sarge is a no-no. Thanks for understanding.
But enough about what makes me tick. I’m here at the behest of the attorney for R.S. Woodbe, a Mr. J.N. Daggett, to provide an update on the continuing drama unfolding around his client. I’m afraid it’s not all good news.Recently Mr. Woodbe started an insurrection at our fat camp, then promptly disappeared, taking with him our entire clientele & majority of staff. We offer a radical high protein/zero carbohydrate approach to eating which we have found to have tremendous results in weight loss. Basically the diet consists of nothing but salmon for 60 days. It’s up to the individual how they would like it prepared & served, but the bottom line is-that’s it. Personally I don’t think it sounds so bad, but Woodbe, almost from the beginning, had issues . It culminated approximately 2 weeks ago during lunch in the cafeteria where he slowly began to chant, “where’s the crab, where’s the crab?”, next thing you know, he’s got everyone chanting along. The din was so loud, we thought the structure might collapse. Then Mr. Woodbe & company stampeded out of there, managing to get as far as Cordova, where they took over an old sports bar, The Coaches Whistle & ravenously ate the place out of business. Snow crab, king crab, dungeness, when they were finished, the pile of discarded exoskeleton looked like the Watts Towers. To say nothing of the scallop shells, shrimp heads, & vanquished bones of cod, mackerel & halibut. From there they impressed a fleet of trawlers & headed towards Kodiak Island. The last time Roland Woodbe-this, this…seditionist of fitness!-was seen, he was captaining a fish trap called ‘Derry Aire’, wearing mauve OR scrubs & a shirt reading, ‘It’s Better Nude’. Neither he nor any of his followers appear to be armed, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. Roland Seward Woodbe possesses this beguiling ability to convince anyone of anything. When our intelligence becomes more up to date, either I or someone in my stead will be in contact. That is all.
When we later did room sweeps of the abandoned premises, we found on Woodbe’s computer this blog entry & summations of records. Attorney Daggett thought it best I make them public & with the assistance of an affable Amish fellow, I was able to transfer them to his care. These are the extant transcripts & have not been altered in any way either by myself or the core team here at Broad Nostril Farm. Thank me if you must, but the bottom line is-FIND HIM! Before he & his merry band of cholesterol junkies drive the market price for crustaceans into the stratosphere. It’s already outrageous. Thank you & happy reading.
Sargent Arthur Pepper (MD)
Head Nutritionist, Broad Nostril Farm
Delta Junction, Alaska (thereabouts)
There’s a whole peck’ve reviews what needs to be addressed now that I’ve got some downtime & had a look around. So allow me to reach back & have my say. It’ll be a respite to all the property chorin I’ve been deluged with. Harvest time is comin up here at Casa Woodbe & we is woefully understaffed. The Guild sent up up these two fellas what claim to be reincarnates’ve Roman legionaries. Call themselves Gauis Giaus & Titus Labius. I’ll admit they seem to know what they’re doin. I was half expectin’em to show up in toga’s or some such gear, but no. Theys partial to capris, linen tunic’s & Birkenstock’s. The one giveaway is them chapets they insist on wearin ’round their heads. Raises a few eyebrows, if you know what I mean. Plus, I can’t understand anything what comes outta their mouths. Latin-ancient or otherwise-is one thing, but these two dip into Greek & Etruscan to wheres all I can do is just stand back & marvel at the absurdity of it all. They love to leave notes around. Notes carved in stone. No one has any idea if theys to themselves or what. Amish says they look like directions on a map. Gauis Giaus came up to me early on, makin writing motions w/his left hand & said, “papuros est?” I sort’ve gave him a bewildered, shrug shouldered “what?” He looked at me like I was a bug, smirked, then walked away, makin the same little writin gestures in the air. After that, it’s been one carved rock after another. Tim Bucktoo had a look at’em & said theys proclamations, more or less. To us or themselves, he couldn’t say. The one word he translated-said what was used over & over-was “cocksucker”. Needless to say, we all called bullshit. But Tim Bucktoo said he’d seen it scrawled enough times across walls in the ancient ruins of Pompeii & there was no disputin the facts. After that I figured I knowed enough. And by enough, I mean I was done tryin to figure it out. Finis. Gauis Giaus & Titus Labius was hard workers, no question. Theys got the job done. Hell, they built aqueducts to irrigate the plants, to say nothin’ve them set’ve mills they throwed up for grindin the wheat crops into flour. We’s gonna have bread comin out our ASS ’cause’ve these two. So in a few weeks if you see loaves’ve ‘Woodbe Rye’, ‘Woodbe Wheat’ or ‘Woodbe Spelt’ at alls the farmers markets, you’ll know why. I gotta admit, their weirdness kind’ve growed on me, but 2021 is just around the corner. So, Novus Annus, Gauis Giaus & Titus Labius, see you then. And until we meet again, futuo te ipsum.
Got this lp from a new bay area band called Piccolo Pete. Immediately some Walt Kelly character come to mind. Not necessarily out’ve Pogo, but then again, why not? The strip ran from ’48 till the mid seventies, surely that mythical section’ve the Okefenokee must’ve seen a beatnik or two. Or hippies, skinnydippin ‘n “foragin” in the loam ‘n moss. Piccolo Pete would’ve been that that character, perhaps a Nutria, definitely a rodent. An errant relative in Pogo’s extended possum family, whatever, he would’ve been there to bring a left-handed blunt to the daily strip. Piccolo Pete (the band) kind’ve operate in the same way. Theys lp, ‘Heavy Metal Detox’ is a woozy ride through a San Francisco that no longer exists. The conjurin’ve Thinking Fellers & Caroliner fire & brimstone is fierce, but this here’s Tesla country now fellas. Once upon a time these guys (probably) would’ve had a Subterranean catalog # , shared the bill w/Drunk Injuns, then a few years down the road, remaindered copies might’ve been available through Blackjack mail-order. But in 2020 it’s called Bandcamp. Check’em out here; https://piccolopete.bandcamp.com/album/heavy-metal-detox
Lead is a duo out’ve LA w/2 bein they’s deuce’ve a release & one things for sure; it’s never too Lead! Get it? Okay, enough w/the pokin fun at Gone. Besides, Lead seem more like solid October Faction fans. This was my 1st time hearin they’s tunes spin. My initial thoughts was it reminded me of Pong the 1st time I seen it played; it was at a county fair, w/an arcade center set up under this huge burlap canopy. All them pinball machines was ancient, but there was one state-of-the-art game there. And that was Pong. Folks was lined up to play it, mesmerized by what they was seein; a blob bein blimped back ‘n forth. I have to admit, it was oddly captivatin. Then I got to thinkin-this is the future. And as one dimensional or infinitesimal as it looked, like the Huguenot fella up the tradin post always said, “it’s comin for your money someday”. Just think of all them releases over the years on Mainstream or Odyssey you just flipped by lookin for some psych record you couldn’t afford. To say nothin of lp’s on Wizard, Lovely, shit, even ECM. Eventually they came & you gladly ponied up, at twice the price. Lead’s simmering minimal Avant Garde-isms snap ‘n slurry the auditory vibes similarly. 2 is all them future pasts distilled into a present, prescient, melange. And for alls the snug-socked snoots out there, this is so far beyond Vanity, it’s practically Pinakotheca. Let the knob’ve infinitude twist with glee; https://l34d.bandcamp.com/album/2
It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the cover art on Say No To Hate. Twas it deja vu, all over again? But the second the needle locks into this, that design swipe makes perfect sense. Like Harry Pussy, Bruce Russell & Noel Meek’s feral skree is letting you know there ain’t no seatbelts on this ride. Brakes neither. This is a white-knuckled thrust down a mountain of pure driven, pre meditated hysteria, fearless & thrilling. It’s so easy to get caught up in the piercin white light at the center’ve this euphoric chaos, you don’t even see the tree comin. Like the jabber in the talkies sez, “they never knew what hit’em”. Just make sure you got your boots on. People will talk. https://noel-meek.bandcamp.com/album/say-no-to-hate
Definitely the hangin’ist curveball to drop off the plate all year is this zoned corker by Barry Walker Jr. on the Holy Mountain label. Based around a pedal steel guitar, I dunno, maybe you think you’re gonna get some kind’ve Austin City Limits, dad pants, CBD zoner. Instead, Walker & co. transform the sandy, scrubrush landscape into a Krautrock, lysergic panorama. The vibe is way more A.R. & Machines than Speedy West. In fact, ‘Shoulda Zenith’ sounds like that Zweistein triple lp opus condensed into a single volume! That’s some psychedelic space/time continuum shit, for real. If you ever wondered how the back cover photo collage on ‘Dr. Byrd & Mr. Hyde’ would soundtrack in the future, all them sweet “what if’s” is tucked into bed right here. https://holymountainrecords.bandcamp.com/album/shoulda-zenith
*This blog is maintained by members of the Oley Freindschift Guild of Braucherei Practitioners and of the Guild of Urglaawe Braucherei and Hexerei Practitioners