Ocean Telephones has finally arrived – download it here. More dance-oriented than anything I’ve done before, but maybe more tripped-out too. Sort of a nightlife mixtape – the raw hip hop you bump harder than usual in the car, the four-on-the-floor dim lit room dance shit, & sketches of the vibes you drag your chemical-groggy minds through at 3 am… Shout out to Jase Daniels for the great cover art (as well as the noise he contributed as Vomitus Skink), and Jdubeats for working on two of the tracks with me. Here’s the tracklist:
1) Intro (w/ Jdubeats)
3) Brah! (I’m Ill!)
4) This Makes Your Fingertips Feel Like Batteries
5) Steambox the City
6) Home Wrecker
7) Fuck It, Let’s Fuck
8 ) Black Mold Pillow
9) Musta Been Blackout
10) To the Hungover & Hollow-Headed
11) Breath & a Creek (w/ Vomitus Skink)
12) Headfirst into Footwork
13) Underground Submarines
14) Computer Love (Monk House Mix)
15) Slingshot Through the Roof, to the Stars
16) Woman, Like My Shoes Got Engines In ‘Em
17) Girl, Like I’m Turning Into Jet Smoke
18) Ocean Telephones
19) Point Blank Ear Grenades
20) Hahahaha, Hahahahaha (w/ Jdubeats)
This is one of the nicest readings I’ve ever seen, makes me sad that I’m not in Portland anymore. Mike Daily getting poetic over a beat prepared by Jase and myself, then gets on his god damn bike and does a couple tricks. Just to make sure there’s 0% chance of boredom! Hell yeah, real artists.
I’ll be going back on Pirate Cat Radio again soon, only this time to DJ a set. So I’ve been digging like crazy to guarentee the music on there’ll be fresh. Just wanted to share one of the things I’ve found – been talking up this song hard to all my friends, because I think it shows something beautiful about hip hop and it’s pure unknown. Burnt Batch!
The first two mixtapes took me only a couple months to do, Soundtrack maybe three, but this one’s been looong in the works because it’s going for something much bigger, and I think you’ll feel that when you hear it. There’s still a few days to wait, but seriously only a few… could even be done soon enough to cure some of that work week blues on Monday.
But I got the finished cover art from my main man Jase Daniels, who in the same package sent me the collabo track between himself and I that’ll be on the mixtape. It’s fire. Jase is not only a wizard with the pen and ink, he makes some of the best noise music you’ll ever hear. I’m excited from head to toe, nah mean? So keep locked and in no time at all, there’ll be 20 fresh tracks to sink your teeth into.
So now I can say that even pornography venues are gettin down to The Deadheart Shelters! Well, Horror Sleaze Trash is actually a lot more than that, and it’s an honor to be among the fat list of oddities they’ve covered. My new book gets some shout-outs and has an excerpt of it hosted for anybody who hasn’t tried it yet. Also, the new Gasoline Monk release, “Computer Love (Monk House Mix),” cause you know these guys are just as down with the groove shit as I am.
I’ve also had to turn around and shed some light on the editor, Ben Smith, who is one of the interesting characters I met through Mike Daily. He’s from Australia, he’s a poet, and he runs a blog that mashes together all sorts of indecent things in a way that makes you feel both exhilerated and ashamed of yourself at the same time. He was with Alternative Reel when they ran the Daily-Armstrong-Daniels collaboration poem-beat-thing “On the House” and we got to talking about his past as a graffiti artist and his love of real hip hop, two things that put us in the same boat right off the bat.
I’ve asked some questions, because I think the deeper you dig into this guy’s web presence the more you wonder just who the fuck he is. So let’s find out…
How did you get linked up with the other dudes on Horror Sleaze Trash, and
what’s the biggest difference between the website and the blog?
Ironically HST started up as a Facebook page for me and all my local
buddies to poke the piss at each other with. Tag each other in disturbing
images, cause domestic drama’s, that type of thing. I left Facebook for
personal reasons, but I didn’t want to loose HST. So I started the blog.
The Blog is basically an excuse for me to justify the time I spend on the
internet searching for porn and assorted oddity and phenomena. HST has
always been well received on that front. The strangeness. Basically this
year I was sick of being rejected by most poetry sites for not “fitting
the criteria” and wanted to set up a base for the more twisted heads out
there. I bought the domain and with the help of a computer tech down
under, we launched. I enlisted the French madman behind outlawpoetry.com
and a close friend of mine Ian Shearer
(http://www.bandwidthsessions.com/features/review/have-the-beer/) who is
one of the funniest mother fuckers around and now we are an un stoppable.
Before the end of this month is out, we are going to have a photo shoot
with a alternative model wearing HST gear in a new quarterly; The HST
Girls. Also an annual anthology press and I’m hoping a few smaller
projects we have in the mix can take off. Basically I wanted a place where
you didn’t have to deal with dicky critics and posers. A place where all
artist are represented fully and honestly. I wanted contact. Not some
lazy editor dicking around and choosing what he thinks is tight. I want
people to blow out their own brains. I want people to bar up and have a
wank over the shit we un leash.
Your aesthetic as a poet is interesting. “Horror sleaze trash” sums up
part of it, in a lot of ways, because it can touch on some of the most
grimey things, almost like you’re putting dudes masterbating in front of
computers under a microscope lens. But there’s something more sensitive
in it, more almost… holy? and I don’t know if I could explain what the
fuck it is. Could you? Could you say why you write what you write?
Haha shit man, I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to hear you ask that
question, that’s brilliant. It’s really funny you say holy, because I have
never thought my poems to be anything like that but it actually strangely
suits. I think I write the way I do because I’m so extremely embarrassed
by pretending to be a writer. I think it’s ridiculous. Like, what the fuck
makes me so special to try and be prophetic or deep. I criticize or
humiliate myself because then it puts me above being criticized or
humiliated. I get in first.
I tell stories. Nothing I ever write is a lie. If I say I did it, it
happened. So then when I’m out and about, I think – if I do this, that
would make a cool poem. So I do it. Take my dick out in my car, steal
bollards from the side of a road, have lunch with a homeless dude.
Without sounding like a wanker – that’s poetry. Life is stupid. It’s a
stupid poem. The words are like a holding point, but they are not the
poems. The poem is in the cats bowl.
There are defiantly beautiful things in the ugliness of honesty. It makes
me sick, but it’s true.
At my last reading a man who fell out of a tree and became permanently
brain damaged read not long after I sat down. He just let out a gutsy, low
bowel movement kinda sound in three short burst. He is a deeper poet than
me, than all of us who stand around and shuffle our feet like movers and
shakers. The best poets are the ones that don’t know it. I think God made
poetry as a celestial joke for the people who have to much ego, it was his
way of identifying them. He has hot pokers to stick up our asses in
heaven. He has a truly twisted sense of humor like that. In summary, I
write so god can frig me with a red hot poker in the afterlife. Maybe.
The same aesthetic is present in how you run your websites, a confused
mix of odds and ends from contemporary culture than can range anywhere
from gnarly porno to surrealistic art to the avant-garde music of Can. I
always find something that becomes my new favorite thing every time I go
onto your website, like that Charles Manson answer to “what he’s all
about”… what the fuck?
Haha as I said brother, the best poets don’t know it. Charley first and
fore most. Dude killed maybe one person, at the very most, and he rides
along with the serial killer heavy weights. Perception is more important
than truth. Delusion even more so. Contemporary Culture is getting
trashier and dirtier every single generation. People might have got
fucked by horses in the 1950’s, but no one knew about it. No way. Well,
maybe, but you couldn’t watch it on the internet. We have the worst
atrocities of mankind at our door, every morning, day in day out. You
can’t pretend not to be effected by that. That’s inhumane. So when
Charley gets asked “what are you all about” and he replies “nothing”, I
can relate. Completely. You don’t have to be crazy to see that, right?
Porn is different, for me that’s personal – That whats truly Holy to me.
There is Holiness in that.. I cant really explain it, not without giving
away more than I need to. Porn is for myself, seriously.
Shit Forrest, you either sink or swim. I’m fucking drowning.
This is a poem by Ben John Smith, who runs horrorsleazetrash.com. In the very near future, there will be a feature about me on this website… but I would also on my own end like to write about Ben, because he’s a very interesting character. For now, just check out this poem of his, “I want to be like you Burroughs.”
I want to cut off
my little toe
and I have my foot
on the table
with a chisel.
before I get to serious
I spray D’arnes perfume
all around me.
I’m interrupted by
my little sister who just
finished night shift
at the supermarket.
She has a 6 pack of
beer and a block of
I drink the beer
and wake up with the
Smudged all over my face
And a few minutes of memory
about a film
about a dude
who was trying
to fuck a chick
but she wasn’t into it.
I think it
Was in French
Like the sound a woman
Makes when she vomits
Red and cold.
The day starts with
Spent all day remixing Zapp & Roger’s insane 1985 track, “Computer Love.” This is what I got. I’ve been making a lot of music in this style lately, and a lot of it will be on my upcoming Ocean Telephones. I’ve been thinking of it as Monk House, or Boston House. It’s probably a manifestation of the tension inside me between hip hop and house – it’s got that four on the floor, dance-reckless feel, but a good 20 or 30 bpm slower than regular house, and built all out of samples. It’s just one of those things I’m obsessed with doing now. Other things I seem to be obsessed with at the moment include reading Irvine Welsh and getting in trouble with the police. Life is beautiful!
Was stoked to see Carlton Mellick III mention The Deadheart Shelters as one of the three books he’s most excited about right now in a recent interview with Dark Recesses. It would have tripped my teenage self out to know that one of my literary heroes would end up being my book’s biggest advocate. This interview is terrific as well – for some reason, it’s rare Carlton does these. But he’s one of funniest and most intelligent people I know, so reading how he handles questions is a blast. Like this, for example:
If you were to write a novel about the Korean storekeeper from Leprechaun in da Hood in which he moves from Los Angeles to Montevideo, Uruguay to raise Cattle that look like Madonna and speak Lebanese slang, how much time would you spend researching and do you ever act out your ideas with toothbrushes and Slim Jims?
CM3: I would do research by watching Lep in da Hood at least a dozen times and then listen to as many Uruguayan Chainsaw Metal songs as possible (chainsaw metal is a new type of thrash metal that is popular in Uruguay). That should be enough research and probably wouldn’t take more than a few weeks. And of course I don’t act out my ideas with toothbrushes and Slim Jims. What the hell’s wrong with you? I use mustache combs and corndogs.
He talks about his upcoming novel, Zombies and Shit, the state of bizarro and why it just keeps improving, his relationship with his extremely talented cover artist Ed Mironiuk, and a whole lot of goofy questions that Carl fields like a champ. If anybody is unfamiliar with him, get on his books right away… they’re more addictive than huffing whipped cream cans.
Read the interview here.