View allAll Photos Tagged stutter
Stutter Rap (No Sleep til Bedtime), was a parody on Gangster Rap (No Sleet til Brooklyn), by the Beastie Boys. Morris Minor and the Majors, fronted by comedian Tony Hawks took the song to number 4 in 1988.
Ok, the record is naff, but the cover is the reason for this posting, a superb red 1950 moggie convertible, RVW 178, a car that is still around.
and ChaCha had captured it in the suit.
Love those liver spots, Marcel, not quite freckles but a good simulacrum. I still love when grown men stutter, it makes me feel protective towards them, like I want to tell them it is OK, they will be fine.
It gives me a little heartache, but not of the bad kind.
I guess it's called 'fellow-feeling', or something like that.
I particularly love when we make mistakes and realise it, almost simultaneously.
The window's open, it's the heart of the summer More people comin' lookin' for the number Mary Ellen sees them she has a little stutter, she yells
TERRA / Heft-Reihe
Reuben Robert Merliss / Kampfroboter
(The Stutterer)
cover: Karl Stephan
Moewig-Verlag
(München / Deutschland; 1960)
ex libris MTP
Postcard. Postally unused.
Star Series. Published by G. D. & D., London.
Bought from an eBay seller in Weston-super-Mare, United Kingdom.
I felt an immense sadness when I first saw this image, knowing that some (if not many) of these boys may have been killed in the trenches of the Western Front during the First World War. It's fun playing at soldiers as a child, but the real thing is a different matter altogether ...
ANTHEM FOR DOOMED YOUTH by Wilfred Owen
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,--
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
- en.wikisource.org/wiki/Poems_by_Wilfred_Owen/Anthem_for_D...
www.wilfredowen.org.uk/poetry/anthem-for-doomed-youth
There's Hope by Anno Birkin - youtu.be/FCEvHeSojH4
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Llewelyn_Davies
Harry Patch & The Lost Generation of WW1 by GhostWatching - ♫ youtu.be/nRtDWMke79c ♫ - "I made this video as a tribute to Harry Patch who Died on the 25th of July 2009 at the grand age of 111 years old. He was the oldest man in Europe and the last surviving soldier to have fought in the trenches of the First World War. With his death went our last link to the lost generation of young men who died in their millions and an era that was swept away forever."
the library project is a project creating a subtle dialogue about the issue of giving,lending and taking.as most of my pieces have a lifespan of a stutter in the street (either because of collectors or weather or the street cleaners), i thought i would try to embrace it and play around with the circumstances. before placing the pieces on the surface, i wrote(for the first edition, but later came up with alternate sentences) "i let you borrow my heart for a while,let others borrow it as well", and then placed the piece over the writing,covering it.
the pieces in this series are applied with double sided tape (which can be easily removed) with some unpeeled scraps of tape on the cardboard left for the borrower to replace anwhere.i think its great if someone wants to take it home, but it raises the conflict of the fact that its in the street for the art to be shared with the people using it.therfore, whoever dispatches the piece can replace it in it original location, or even better, a new location,making him/her part of the arts existence and making it even more part of the collective reality than it was before.
(best viewed large)
These two were waiting on the edge of the village for a lift into town. Fortunately, we had some spare seats and were able to help. Stutter Village, Tibet
I've burnt the blank page
until my stuttering stalls
and I've been talking to myself since the fall
I can hear strangers speak
from the door in the hall
and we both live on the other side of the wall
the men that I hear
they just want to make love
and the women, they make nothing at all
we don't speak face to face
because we're too into out of place
if my ears are ringing, then I'll heed the call
all my words are bound and backward
and all my tales are tall
I'm embarrassed that my syllables are small
only when I'm all surrounded
and surrendered to the silence
will the white noise leave me in a lull
I've burnt the blank page
until my stuttering stalls
and I've been talking to myself since the fall...
© Steve Skafte
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JULY 11: Eric Dinallo, Emily Blunt and Lucy Fato attend the 2022 Freeing Voices, Changing Lives Gala at Guastavino's on July 11, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for American Institute for Stuttering)
A part of Vegetation series
I love how this set turned out. It is exactly how I wanted it to look. All the elements came together: good lighting, wide open space, and a willing beautiful subject. It was so much fun!
Special thanks to: Stephanie Kim and Susan Park
For this photo I've used:
Canon Elan II w/50mm 1.8, Expired Kodak 400 Film, Epson V330 scanner and Photoshop CS3
In a mouse model of stuttering (lower panel), there are fewer astrocytes, shown in green, compared to controls (upper panel) in the corpus callosum, the area of the brain that enables the left and right hemispheres to communicate.
Researchers believe that stuttering — a potentially lifelong and debilitating speech disorder — stems from problems with the circuits in the brain that control speech, but precisely how and where these problems occur is unknown. Using a mouse model of stuttering, scientists report that a loss of cells in the brain called astrocytes are associated with stuttering. The mice had been engineered with a human gene mutation previously linked to stuttering. The study, which appeared online in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, offers insights into the neurological deficits associated with stuttering.
Read more:
www.nih.gov/news-events/news-releases/nih-study-mice-iden...
Credit: Tae-Un Han, Ph.D., National Institute on Deafness and Communication Disorders, NIH
Title: The Case Of The Stuttering Bishop.
Author: Erle Stanley Gardner.
Publisher: Pocket Books.
Date: 1943.
Artist:
In a dark club where there is no dancing
I was told I move too slow
But there is nowhere for me to go
So what's the hurry among sheep
(said the broken black wolf)
If he finally lands his ship
If he does lay down in my den
I'll know what to do
I'll know how to eat him
How to destroy him
Before he kills me
But no, I move too slow
So I'm dead anyway
In his eyes is everyone else
They're always crazy against him
In his head a thousand years of fog
Cigarettes, crack and pieces of green leaf
Choke him slowly in smoke
In delusional smog
In a lion's mouth
In a room full of black toys
In Italy or Indiana
In Chicago, Illinois
On the other side of the cloud
Until he calls
Far away from them all
And an orange moon falling down
I walk by the oceanic lake at midnight
And remember the rough stuff
The tongues of zombies
The emperors of empty space
The drowning in long slow waves of gray
Vincent
This. This above. This above makes no sense.
Well, maybe some of it.
But I don't know why I wrote it really.
I was going to comment on...I don't know:
Him.
Them.
Men.
Males.
Monsters.
The stand-offs I've had.
The stealing.
The silence.
The sadness.
The self-hate.
The self-deception.
The stones thrown.
The shots fired.
And more stand-offs.
Why are you looking at me like that?
Why are we circling each other?
(Assessing potential damage)
Am I going to fuck you?
Or am I going to have to fight you?
I've found myself in that space a little too often.
The electric tension between two animals/manimals
Between two strangers
Between two men
Hungry for two different pleasures
On the edge of another edge.
Come closer
And then jump
Into that other secret space.
When they want it
When they tremble
When they submit
And then they struggle
Or scream
Or cry.
Or stare into collapsing inner voids.
Or speak strange stuttering spells into the sheets.
It's a beautiful thing.
----sometimes--
All this randomness.
Or not.
When you're lonely
And write ridiculous nonsense
That remembers nothing.
Vincent
p.s.
He doesn't want me
And he never did.
Spotted Sandpiper (Actitis macularius) Bertram Creek Regional Park, Kelowna (soty15)
(From Cornell's All About Birds):
"The dapper Spotted Sandpiper makes a great ambassador for the notoriously difficult-to-identify shorebirds. They occur all across North America, they are distinctive in both looks and actions, and they're handsome. They also have intriguing social lives in which females take the lead and males raise the young. With their richly spotted breeding plumage, teetering gait, stuttering wingbeats, and showy courtship dances, this bird is among the most notable and memorable shorebirds in North America.
Spotted Sandpipers are the most widespread sandpiper in North America, and they are common near most kinds of freshwater, including rivers and streams, as well as near the sea coast. Their range includes water bodies in otherwise arid parts of the continent, and it extends into the mountains, where they may occur upwards of 14,000 feet above sea level. Breeding territories generally need to have a shoreline, a semiopen area where the nest will be, and patches of dense vegetation for sheltering the chicks. Spotted Sandpipers spend the winter along the coasts of North America or on beaches, mangroves, rainforest, and cloud forest up to 6,000 feet elevation in Central and South America.
Cool Facts
• The Spotted Sandpiper is the most widespread breeding sandpiper in North America.
• Female Spotted Sandpipers sometimes practice an unusual breeding strategy called polyandry, where a female mates with up to four males, each of which then cares for a clutch of eggs. One female in Minnesota laid five clutches for three males in a month and a half. This odd arrangement does not happen everywhere and often they are monogamous, with the female pitching in to help a little.
• The female Spotted Sandpiper is the one who establishes and defends the territory. She arrives at the breeding grounds earlier than the male. In other species of migratory birds, where the male establishes the territory, he arrives earlier.
• The male takes the primary role in parental care, incubating the eggs and taking care of the young. One female may lay eggs for up to four different males at a time.
• Despite the gender roles, male Spotted Sandpipers have 10 times the testosterone that females have. However, that’s only in absolute terms. During the breeding season, females see a sevenfold increase in their testosterone levels, perhaps accounting for their aggression and the overall role reversal between male and female.
• The female may store sperm for up to one month. The eggs she lays for one male may be fathered by a different male in a previous mating.
• Its characteristic teetering motion has earned the Spotted Sandpiper many nicknames. Among them are teeter-peep, teeter-bob, jerk or perk bird, teeter-snipe, and tip-tail.
• The function of the teetering motion typical of this species has not been determined. Chicks teeter nearly as soon as they hatch from the egg. The teetering gets faster when the bird is nervous, but stops when the bird is alarmed, aggressive, or courting."
For more information about this image and how it is made please visit the page for its set Did I Stutter?.
"Listen to what the landscape says,
And all that it fails to say, and what the clouds say, and the light,
Inveterate stutterer." - Charles Wright
"Porky stutters through the Elvis Presley classic, while a small crowd listens and giggles.
Porky's romantic line in the middle of the song is the icing on the Christmas cake.
The song was never a track on a Warner Brothers Looney Tunes Christmas album, with an official Porky Pig voice actor.
It has been attributed to several comedians over the years, since pretty much anybody who can do voices can do a Porky Pig impression. (That should be a job requirement.)
The song was done by voice actor Denny Brownlee on the John Boy and Billy radio show that aired for years in Birmingham on WZRR 99.5 FM. It's on the "John Boy & Billy Christmas Album," downloadable on iTunes.
The "official" artist is "Seymore Swine and the Squealers," after Warner Bros. threatened a legal smack down."
The stuttering is from my frozen fingers. it's about 5 below now, about an hour after I took the photo. Fumbling around in the dark with bare fingers on tripod, exposed metal and camera controls just about did me in. It was sort of silly anyhow. I only had an 80-200 zoom, not long enough to do a really detailed closeup of the Moon. Rather than do something half-assed at the long end of the range, I zoomed back to 80mm and went for an impressionistic image of the moon in the trees with stars, cranking up the ISO to add a bit of pointillistic noise for atmosphere. I'm not sure it works, but for me it's a visual reminder of a really beautiful moment. After partially defrosting my fingers, T and I went back out in the icy darkness, no longer messing around with hardware, but just looking up at the cold, clear panorama of a magical winter sky with our own eyes.
The Dodo is a fictional character appearing in Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. Carroll, who's real surname was Dodgson had a stutter and very frequently pronounced his name "Do-do-dodgson".
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JUNE 12: <> attends the American Institute For Stuttering 17th Annual Gala Hosted By Emily Blunt on June 12, 2023 in New York City. (Photo by Bryan Bedder/Getty Images for American Institute for Stuttering)
Available now @ Exposeur
Main Store - slurl.com/secondlife/Reek/178/209/23
Marketplace - marketplace.secondlife.com/stores/16816
Stuttering Barred Frog (Mixophyes balbus), Mid-north Coast, New South Wales.
It was very dry in the forest this time of the year and one of the creeks had no water except for a small pool with tadpoles of this species. I spotted this juvenile sitting a few metres away in the leaf litter where it had begun to develop the characteristic blue upper-eye of the adult.
It has been fun watching her make people stutter. I can't believe she's never really modeled before. Henna by rovinghorse at Roving Horse Henna.
A Southern Barred Frog, Mixophyes australis, from the Watagans National Park, New South Wales, Australia.
Like the Giant Barred Frog, this species has also declined, however disppearances have largely been restricted to the southern-half of its distribution (which may represent a distinct species from northern areas [two species are now recognised from 2023]). However, the species remains common in the rainforests of the Watagan Ranges and adjacent areas.
I had actually never photographed this species in the Watagans until I came across this individual. Thinking it was posing beautifully, I had a look over my photos later to see it was in the midst of devouring a spider, with the leg still hanging out of it's mouth!
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JULY 11: <> attends the 2022 Freeing Voices, Changing Lives Gala at Guastavino's on July 11, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by Dimitrios Kambouris/Getty Images for American Institute for Stuttering)
it was all go on the lake the other day, with swans courting and chasing each other, grebes nest building, canada geese making a right racket and coots . . . well being coots
i think all the distractions may have caused this swan to lose concentration, as he tried to take off with his pall - he stuttered and fell back into the water as his friend took off!
he was perfectly fine, and flew off after a bit, even if he did look a bit embarrassed!
and after yesterdays shot – see below – gull strike again!
(PLEASE NO AWARDS OR PICTURES OR FLASHY BADGES)
TD: Up next is Regine! Tell us something about yourself Regine!
Regine: Uhm.. Uhm.. *stutters* I'm Regine, 20 years old, a college student taking up Mathematics. I can solve Math problems from algebra to calculus.
TD: Wow so you're definitely smart. Why did you join this contest even though you're already smart?
Regine: I.. I want to prove that I'm more than just a Math girl. I can show my other side too.
TD: That's nice to see you breaking out of your shell. What is your advantage from the other girls?
Regine: I.. I believe that in every challenge there's an solution. Hopefully I can calculate what the judges want for me to win.
TD: What a deep answer. Have you seen any competition so far?
Regine: Pa.. Paola is my competition because she's confident and has a pleasing personality.
TD: Thank you Regine and good luck on this!
Meet The Cast Video: youtu.be/nzIQhnzhmmc
YOU CAN VOTE FOR MODEL OF THE WEEK BY CLICKING ON THIS LINK:
Western Rd, Penang.
Freemasonry arrived in Penang in 1786 with its founder Captain Francis Light. After a stuttering start, freemasonry picked up in 1875 with the establishment of the Royal Prince of Wales Lodge in Beach Street in George Town. By 1906, there were four Lodges in Penang including the Gottlieb Lodge, the Lodge Scotia and the Victoria Jubilee Chapter. The Scottish Lodge broke away to move into its own premises in 1917 but in the early 1920s, all Lodges agreed to pool their resources to construct a new Masonic Temple.
Designed by architect Howard Leicester in a rather grand and solid Art-Deco style (it reminds me of the old Hongkong & Shanghai Bank building in Hong Kong), the chief cornerstone of Langkawi marble was laid by W Bro John Gray Allan, a past Master of both Craft Lodges, on 17 December 1927. Inside, the floor of the dining hall is fitted with springs imported from England to accommodate ballroom dancing, as well as Masonic banquets.
Suki: *nods* "To some little Scottish chippy."
Chloe *visibly upset* "B-b-but, I d-d-didn't know he w-w-was--"
Suki (calmly): "Slow down, Chlo. You're stutter's showing. Take a deep breath and start again."
Chloe: *inhales deeply and says slowly* "I didn't know he was dating anyone serious."
Suki: "You and me both. Apparently, she's Yuri and Kumi's cousin on their dad's side. That's how he met her, hanging out at their place."
Chloe: "Oh."
Suki: "I called Yuri after Z told me the news, and she said the marriage was a shock to them all. I plan to call Kums later and get her side of it. She's less tactful, thus there will be more dirt."
Chloe: "Oh."
Suki: "I can't believe he did this! Last I checked, marriage was the farthest thing from his mind. I wonder what this Emma is like..."
Chloe: *rubs eyes*
Suki (intently): "She better pray to the surf gods I like her. That's all I'm sayin'--"
Chloe: *sobs*
Suki (surprised): "Chlo, hon, don't cry! I'm sure it'll be fine. I was just b***hin' a little. Zin usually knows what he's doin'."
Chloe: "N-n-not t-t-that."
Suki: *searches bag for Kleenex* "Then, tell me what's wrong."
Chloe: *shakes head and sobs harder*
Fashion Credits
Chloe
Re-root by valmaxi (love)
Bikini Top: Mattel - Beach Baby Marissa
Bikini Bottom: Momoko - Beach Rodeo
Sunglasses: MGA - America's Next Top Model
Necklace and Bracelets: Me
Suki
Bikini: Auntie Betty, a.k.a. watbetty
Shirt: Mattel - CaliGirl Barbie
Skirt: Momoko - Wild 'n' Sexy Tune
Bag: Cangaway (Etsy)
Earrings and Bracelets: Me
Sketches by: Alex May / DARYL_GAMMA / Davide Della Casa / Dorkbot London / Jonny Stutters / Sally Northmore / Sophie McDonald
Original music by: Jonny Stutters, edited by Davide Della Casa
You can play/modify these sketches online at: www.sketchpatch.net
REVIEW FROM SIMON LEWIS WWW.TERRASCOPE.CO.UK
Greece is perhaps not the first place you would
associate with instrumental garage surf punk but the
invisible surfers aim to change that with their
collection of high-energy stompers. Played with
confidence and precision each song is a perfectly
formed tribute to the twangy guitar sounds of Dick
Dale, and the sun, surf and easy living mystique of
mid-sixties California. With a tight rhythm section
anchoring the tunes, the guitar is allowed to roam
freely creating an effective and original whole.
Special mention must go to the amazing version of
Runaway which is fantastic and is guaranteed to make
you move.(Andreas Zorbas higher_ups@yahoo.gr )
THE REVIEW FROM WWW.DEVOSHENROLL.FR.TC
It is in 1996, in Athens, after the Split of their
former(ancient)
group "
the blue jeans " that Alex Berekos (guitar), Johnny
Ted ( basses) and
Giorgos Fokas ( battery(Fokas ( drum kit)) decide to
go(take) up the
Punk
combo surfing INVISIBLE SURFERS. (Much more Surfing
which Punk I find)
In 1997, they take(bring) out a mini cd of 7 minutes "
it won t last
forever
" with some present bases in albums as well as a piece
more rock 'n'
roll!!
They then turned(shot) during some time(weather) with
groups such "Dead
Moon"; "Cramps";
Then it is only 5 years later, in 2002, that they
take(bring) out
finally
their album " dogs killa cat " in association with
Hith-Hyke Record!!
This
album is totally instrumental, indeed surfing and
quite nevertheless
they
say themselves " garage punk surfing with some sound
effects of the
other
planets " but me A demo also went out in 2004
In brief a good group Surfing, rather basic(basal),
but with well
mastered
fragments, we see that they have some
experience(experiment) in the
domain.
It is a pity there is vocal or no faster songs!!
THE LANCE MONTHLY REVIEW APRIL 2005
the Invisible Surfers "Dogs Killa Cat" (Hitch-Hyke
Records)Te
They have the grooves down pat, but still operate in
a realm of their own.
For a few years now, The Invisible Surfers have been
thrilling crowds with the kind of surf rock
instrumentals that never grow old. And in view of
their first album, "Dogs Killa Cat," they bring their
live expertise right into the studio. Generated by raw
and uninhibited energy, the Athens, Greece band sports
a sound that is loose, flexible and visceral.
Dazzling all the way through, "Dogs Killa Cat" swerves
and curves with interesting motions. Toxic yet catchy
tones pierce cuts such as "Poison Pussy,"
"Machination" and "The Hunter." Stuttering guitar
riffs, complemented by chugging bass work and stirring
drums are what The Invisible Surfers peddle. One can
imagine the band's instrumentals spinning in the
background of a grainy black-and-white monster flick
from days gone by. Every single track on "Dogs Killa
Cat" exposes how sincerely devoted The Invisible
Surfers are to the style of music they perform. They
have the grooves down pat, but still operate
in a realm of their own. h
PIPELINE MAGAZINE [ REVIEW DEMO INVISIBLE SURFERS]
THE INVISIBLE SURFERS HAIL FROM ATHENS,CREECE WHERE
THEY FORMED IN 1996 FOLLOWING THE DISSOLUTION OF THE
BLUE GEANS.IN 1997 THEY RELEASED THEIR FIRST SINGLE
WITH THREE UPHAET INSTUMENTAL TRACKS.IN 2002 THEY
RELAESED THEIR FIRST ALBUM,DOGS KILLA CAT ON
HITCH-HYKE RECORDS,WHICHDREW MUSICAL ELEMENTS FROM
TRADITIONAL GREEK STYLE,SCI-FI,SPAGHETTI AND
GARAGE.THEY NOW HAVE A 13 TRACK DEMO READY FOR THEIR
NEXT ALBUM WHICH THEY ARE LOOKING TO PLACE WITH A
LABEL OUTSIDE OF THEIR HOMELAND. STRONG GUITAR
THREE-PIECE VERSIONS OF DUCKPOIND [AS SURFIN'LAKE]
RUNAWAY
THE WEDGE AND SQUAUD CAR [AS THUNDER RIDE]ARE JOINED
BY NINE UPTEMPO ORIGINALS WITH INFLUENCES FROM
DUANE EDDY THROUGH TO PUNK.
[ CONTACT ANDREAS ZORBAS HIGHER_UPS@YAHOO.GR]
ALAN TAYLOR PIPELINE MAGAZINE
review from void&action japan
THE INVISIBLE SURFERS / DOGS KILLA CAT / CD /
HITCH-HYKE (2002)
ήηΝAMVΝAelΜT[tEpNECXgEohB»Μpπ©ΉΘʼgζθB1996NΙ¬΅ANΙVOπo΅½ΖΝʼ¦A2002NΙζⱬ¯½t@[XgEAo±ΜCDBήηΜoCIOtB[ΙζκΞAMVΕΝΘ©Θ©κ½η΅ʼB»ΜΜΝΖΰ©Aξ{ΙΐΕADΆIΘtπθIn³ΉΔʼιΖ±λΘΗΝAm©Ιξρί½ΜAJβϊ{ΜohΙΝΰΝβ^ΜoΘʼv~eBΕpζcΘ£ΝΖΘΑΔlηΜ¨ΙcιΙαʼΘʼBJ@[ΜXg[gΘIπΰ
άθΙfp·¬ιA»κΰήηΜOgΜohΌu[W[YΖΘκΞAΰΆεΰΎ¦ΘʼΎλB/
²ʽl Masato Sato
THE REVIEW IS FROM SAVAGE MAGAZINE
THE INVISIBLE SURFERS
Dogs Killa Cat CD
Greek surf.. New surf done the tradidional way is not
really my cup of tea. There are a few bands out there
that do it okay but I dont go out buying surf records
anymore. That was ten years ago (about).. This is
pretty heavy surf and for hardcore surf fans only.
(Thomas)
No label
www.garage rock radio.com review
The Invisible Surfers from Greece are a cool surf
instrumental band. Their recent effort, "Dogs Killa
Cat" features 14 authentic 60s-tinged guitar surf
tunes. Production is very good and there is much good
guitarwork. Tempos range from psyche-trippy to
standard 60s surf pop to speed metal (track 9 borrows
from Motorhead's "Ace of Spades"). Surf and Garage are
first cousins in the Rock family. If you like surf,
check out the great guitarwork on this CD! For more
info on this band, please write to Andreas Zorbas.
REWIEW FROM THE www.digginfordirt.com
The Invisible Surfers - Dogs Killa Cat/Demo
Written by Paul4dirt
Tuesday, 08 February 2005
Two cdr-discs by a Greek surf band. The Dogs Killa Cat
one being by far the best of the two. The demo has
more predictable songs on it and the dogs killa cat cd
has some great swingin' songs like nr. 5 'Restlesness'
and nr. 9 'The Hunter'. If you're a fan of surf music
be sure to check this here band out. I mean, it's not
VERY often the Greeks bring us some decent surfin
music, or is it?
review from bob ignizio WWW.UTTERTRASH.NET
The Invisible Surfers Demo (currently unreleased)
Although the post-Pulp Fiction boom in surf music
has largely died down, theres still a few bands out
there playing the style. Hailing from Athens, Greece,
The Invisible Surfers are one such band. Theyve
definitely got the chops, and if you like a purist
approach to this style, you cant do much better.
This is pretty much the classic Dick Dale/Ventures
sound with a bit of garage rock grit and intensity.
Unfortunately, theres not much to differentiate this
band from a hundred others doing the same thing.
Without a distinctive sound, that leaves only the
tunes themselves to set this band apart. While
theres no bad tracks on this demo, theres no
Miserlou or Walk, Dont Run, either. The
instrumental version of Del Shannons Runaway is the
only thing that even comes close. Its enjoyable
background music, but doesnt really stick with me.
(Bob Ignizio)
TSUNAMI SOUL
Hi Andreas,
I got the cds on Saturday and I like them a lot! I
wanted to wait until
I had listened to them a few times before sending you
my comments. I
think that these demos are all really good.
"Cobra Snake Neck Tie" is a good example of the
Invisible Surfers'
great rhythm. This song also has some cool changes.
"Burned Brain" displays
the adventurous guitar that is in all of these songs.
"Eyes Like The
Deep Blue Sea," which is another great song that I've
been enjoying,
shows that the Invisible Surfers have reverance for
the more "traditional"
style of instrumentals, like those of Duane Eddy and
Link Wray. Still,
this song is as unique as all of the Invisible
Surfers' songs! "O.D.
From Love" is another song with a strong and solid
rhythm. A very cool
song. I think that the fast, foot-tapping melody in
"Stabs 'N' Hugs" is
excellent and "Total Satisfied" is also very exciting.
I like this song
a lot. "Hellfire Whips" has a great melody line. The
Invisible Surfers
do a nice job on this song. The last "Untitled" song
is another
foot-stomping song. I really like the fast guitar
picking in this song. This
song deserves a title!
All of the Invisible Surfers' original demo songs on
this CD are very
good. They incorporate dynamic changes and they are
all very
adventurous. The covers ("Surfin' Lake," "Runaway,"
"The Wedge," and "Thunder
Ride") are also done well. I especially like the great
chords and excellent
guitar playing in "Runaway" and "The Wedge."
Thanks also for sending me a copy of "Dogs Killa Cat."
These songs are
all amazing! What a great CD. I'll be playing the
Invisible Surfers'
songs on my Tsunami Soul radio show and helping to
spread the word about
this great band. I know that my show's listeners will
appreciate the
Invisible Surfers as much as I do.
Thanks again, Andreas. I hope to hear lots of good
things about (and
from!) the Invisible Surfers.
All the best,
Tom
Tsunami Soul
WOBC 91.5 FM
wobc.org (Thursdays, 6:00-8:00 p.m. EST)
www.oberlin.edu/staff/thinders/
THE INVISIBLE SURFERS - "TOO MANY TALK"
What can a surf-/trash fan expect in times where
instant, electronic chartmusic is nummero uno ?!? No
idea ?
There could only one possible answer...raw, powerful
surf instrumentals for sure !
"No one plays it !" some would yell. But hey, wait a
minute and take a sharp look at the horizon. Can`t you
feel that strong choppy instrumental breaze, coming up
from the golden coast of greece ?
That are the sounds of "THE INVISIBLE SURFERS"
considered to be some of the wild! est rock`n`roll
instrumentals played in the new millenium ! The
formula for the "Surfers" style seems to be simple...a
fast played and rough soundin surf guitar, a bone dry
rhythm section and the seventh sense for an earcatchin
melody. But only Alex, Johnny and Giorgos can mix
these ingredients the right way. The results are
always top notch instrumentals ala "INVISIBLE
SURFERS". A good example for the SURFERS recipe is
that nifty tune called "Too many talk". It`s a
statement for the high art of entertaining rock`n`roll
instrumentals and better...it`s not just an appetizer,
it`s an beef tea for every one who`s addicted to the
power of cool instro tunes nowadays !
So, don`t waste your time listening to all that chart
music crap, better move over to the Surfers sound,
okay ? okay !
JAMAS !
-- > get 100 % cheap o instromania !
Welcome to HangNine - the Instrumental, Surf and
Garage WebZine
From now on, the main page at HangNine will feature
recent reviews and anything else current that takes
our fancy. Reviews will eventually be added to our
extensive archive.
First, though, a short explanation of our new rating
system:
AFBOM - A guitarist friend, frequently asked, "What
did you think of the band?" felt it best to avoid
answers of the, "Not much, to be honest," variety and
always picked on something positive to say. This might
have been, "Great chorus to the last song," "Loved the
guitar sound in that first number," or even, "The
drummer's trousers are really cool." Favourite of the
lot, though, was, "Fine bunch of musicians," which
became something of a catchphrase round our way.
NBAA - Not bad at all.
PDG - Pretty damned good.
AB - Absolutely brilliant.
AFB - Better even than absolutely brilliant.
The Invisible Surfers
Who are they? Surf-punk instrumental band from Athens,
in sunny Greece. The Invisible Surfers speicalise in a
highly effective, high-octane brand of rocking
instrumental surf. This untitled demo features some 28
numbers spread over two cdr's (rather attractive, 7
inch single style cdr's, by the way); a blend of
originals and covers, including some which you might
expect to find played by a band of this ilk (Rumble,
The Wedge, Jack The Ripper) and some which you might
not (Swan Lake and Del Shannon's Runaway).
Unfortunately, it's not possible to name any of the
originals featured here, since there is no track
listing.
What's good? The playing, which is really lively on
all numbers. The whole demo has a pretty much live
feel and, if this is anything to go by, you can be
damn sure that The Invisible Surfers are a great live
act. Maybe they'll make it to the UK for HangNine to
check out.
Great choice of tunes to cover.
Some very good original tunes too.
What's bad? 28 numbers spread over around 95 minutes
is quite a lot of material to include in a demo!
Some numbers feature digital glitches and dropouts,
while one is unplayable, due to really unpleasant
digital distortion. This is obviously a potential
problem with self-manufactured cdr's; you really do
have to check them, which can be a real drag.
No track listing.
HangNine Rating: PDG - you can email manager Andreas
for further details
review from roctomber fanzine;
Invisible Surfers ( Unlike most
boring, clichΓ© surf music, this band stands out because , while
staying
true to the beach, they also draw from indie rock, jazz and ethnic folk
music. Of course, the latter may not be a stretch, they say Dick
Daleβs
Middle-Eastern roots helped contribute to the sounds of early surf.
These Invisibles may not be much to see, but they are really something
to hear
review from rock&roll prugatory
Invisible Surfers
2 CD-Rs
Higher_ups@yahoo.gr
I am not sure what the two CD-Rs I received by this Greek band represent. I think some of it is off past releases, and some is not-yet-released material. At any rate, it is pretty decent instrumental surf music worthy of mention. The recordings range in quality, and a couple songs had major glitches. Im guessing a lot of these songs are originals, while the covers that I recognized ranged from predictable (but enjoyable), to somewhat less expected. The execution is quite good, and the moods range from heavy and dark to bright and breezy. While they dont quite stand apart from the pack, they are certainly towards the front. Ill be interested to see where they go from here. BL
Then Garp got some hate mail of his own. He was addressed in a lively letter by someone who took offense at Second Wind of the Cuckold. It was not a blind, stuttering, spastic farter - as you might imagine - either. It was just what Garp needed to get himself out of his slump.
Dear Shithead,
[wrote the offended party]
I have read your novel. You seem to find other people's problems very funny. I have seen your pictures. With your fat head of hair I suppose you can laugh at bald persons. And in your cruel book you laugh at people who can't have orgasms, and people who aren't blessed with happy marriages, and people whose wives and husbands are unfaithful to each other. You ought to know that persons who have these problems do not think everything is so funny. Look at the world, shithead - it is a bed of pain, people suffering and nobody believing in God or bringing their children up right. You shithead, you don't have any problems so you can make fun of the poor people who do!
Yours sincerely,
(Mrs.) I. B. Poole
Findlay, Ohio
That letter stung Garp like a slap; rarely had he felt so importantly misunderstood. Why did people insist that if you were "comic" you couldn't also be "serious"? Garp felt most people confused being profound with being sober, being earnest with being deep. Apparently, if you sounded serious, you were. Presumably, other animals could not laugh at themselves, and Garp believed that laughter was related to sympathy, which we were always needing more of. He had been, after all, a humorless child - and never religious - so perhaps he now took comedy more seriously than others.
But for Garp to see his vision interpreted as making fun of people was painful to him; and to realize that his art had made him appear cruel gave Garp a keen sense of failure. Very carefully, as if he were speakingto a potential suicide high up in a foreign and unfamiliar hotel, Garp wrote to his reader in Findlay, Ohio
Dear Mrs. Poole:
The world is a bed of pain, people suffer terribly, few of us believe in God or bring up our children very well; you're right about that. It is also true that people who have problems do not, as a rule, think their problems are "funny".
Horace Walpole once said that the world is comic to those who think and tragic to those who feel. I hope you'll agree with me that Horace Walpole somewhat simplifies the world by saying this. Surely both of us think and feel; in regard to what's comic and what's tragic, Mrs. Poole, the world is all mixed up. For this reason I have never understood why "serious" and "funny" are thought to be opposites. It is simply a truthful contradiction to me that people's problems are often funny and that the people are often and nonetheless sad.
I am ashamed, however, that you think I am laughing at people, or making fun of them. I take people very seriously. People are all I take seriously, in fact. Therefore, I have nothing but sympathy for how people behave - and nothing but laughter to console them.
Laughter is my religion, Mrs. Poole. In the manner of most religions, I admit that my laughter is pretty desperate. I want to tell you a little story to illustrate what I mean. The story takes place in Bombay, India, where many people starve to death every day; but not all the people in Bombay are starving.
And among the nonstarving population of Bombay, India, there was a wedding, and a party was thrown in honor of the bride and groom. Some of the wedding guests brought elephants to the party. They weren't really conscious of showing off, they were just using the elephants for transportation. Although it might strike us as a big-shot way to travel around, I don't think these wedding guests saw themselves that way. Most of the were probably not directly responsible for the vast numbers of their fellow Indians who were starving all around them; most of them were just calling "time out" from their own problems, and the problems of the world, to celebrate the wedding of a friend. But if you were a member of the starving Indians, and you hobbled past that wedding party and saw all those elephants parked outside, you probably would have felt some disgruntlement.
Furthermore, some of the revelers at the wedding got drunk and began feeding beer to their elephant. They emptied an ice bucket and filled it with beer, and they went tittering out to the parking lot and fed their hot elephant the whole bucket. The elephant liked it. So the revelers gave him several more buckets of beer.
Who knows how beer will affect an elephant? These people meant no harm, they were just having fun - and chances are fairly good that the rest of their lives weren't one hundred percent fun. They probably needed this party. But the people were also being stupid and irresponsible.
If one of those many starving Indians had dragged himself through the parking lot and seen these drunken wedding guests filling up an elephant with beer, I'll bet he would have felt resentful. But I hope you see I am not making fun of anyone.
What happens next is that the drunken revelers are asked to leave the party because their behavior with their elephant is obnoxious to the other wedding guests. No one can blame the other guests for feeling this way; some of them may have actually thought they were preventing things from getting "out of hand," although people have never been very successful at preventing this.
Huffy and brave with beer, the revelers struggled up on their elephant and veered away from the parking lot - a large exhibition of happiness, surely - bumping into a few other elephants and things because the revelers' elephant plowed from side to side in a lumbering wooze, bleary and bloated with buckets of beer. His trunk lashed back and forth like a badly fastened artificial limb. The great beast was so unsteady that he struck an electric utility pole, shearing it cleanly and bringing down the live wires on his massive head - which killed him, and the wedding guests who were riding him, instantly.
Mrs. Poole, please believe me: I don't think that's "funny." But along comes one of those starving Indians. He sees all the wedding guests mourning the death of their friends, and their friends' elephant; much wailing, rending of fine clothes, spilling of good food and drink. The first thing he does is to take the opportunity to slip into the wedding while the guests are distracted and steal a little good food and drink for his starving family. The second thing he does is start to laugh himself sick about the manner in which the revelers disposed of themselves and their elephant. Alongside death by starvation, this method of enormous dying must seem very funny, or at least quick, to the undernourished Indian. But the wedding guests don't see it that way. It is already a tragedy to them; they are already talking about "this tragic event," and although they could perhaps forgive the presence of a "mangy beggar" at their party - and even have tolerated his stealing their food - they cannot forgive him for laughing at their dead friends' elephant.
The wedding guests - outraged at the beggar's behavior (at his laughter, not his thievery and not his rags) - drown him in one of the beer buckets that the late revelers used to water their elephant. They construed this to represent "justice". We see that the story is about the class struggle - and, of course, "serious", after all. But I like to consider it a comedy about a natural disaster: they are just people rather foolishly attempting to "take charge" of a situation whose complexity is beyond them - a situation compsed of eternal and trivial parts. After all, with something as large as an elephant, it could have been much worse.
I hope, Mrs. Poole, that I have made what I mean clearer to you. In any case, I thank you for taking the time to write to me, because I appreciate hearing from my audience - even critically.
Yours truly,
"Shithead"
Garp was an expressive man. He made everything baroque, he believed in exaggeration; his fiction was also extremist. Garp never forgot his failure with Mrs. Poole; she worried him, often, and her reply to his pompous letter must have upset him even further.
Dear Mr. Garp,
[Mrs. Poole replied]
I never thought you would take the trouble to write me a letter. You must be a sick man. I can see by your letter that you believe in yourself, and I guess that's good. But the things you say are mostly garbage and nonsense to me, and I don't want you to try to explain anything to me again, because it is boring and insulting to my intelligence.
Yours,
Irene Poole
Garp was, like his beliefs, self-contradictory. He was very generous with other people, but he was horribly impatient. He set his own standards for how much of his time and patience everyone deserved. He could be painstakingly sweet, until he decided he'd been sweet enough. Then he turned and came roaring back the other way.
Dear Irene,
[Garp wrote to Mrs. Poole]
You should either stop trying to read books, or you should try a lot harder.
Dear Shithead,
[wrote Irene Poole]
My husband says that if you write to me again, he'll beat your brains into pulp.
Very sincerely,
Mrs. Fitz Poole
Dear Fitzy and Irene,
[Garp shot right back]
Fuck you.
Taken from right-to-left, as I was sitting on the north side of the train, headed west.
I really like what happened when I set the camera on my phone to 'panorama' and then held it stationary against the window of the train: (from an email I wrote) "The camera accrues the image unevenly: it's looking for motion but its internal gyroscope ("accelerometer") is confused. If things aren't changing much in the foreground, the picture 'piles up' and the horizon stutters, but water or trees close-by trigger a richer capture
This was just after sunrise. Fall colours here, and lots of standing water."
The Compur shutter from Rolleiflex Old Standard No. 403037. With the circular black facia ring removed step (84) and the control plate ring removed step (87) we reach the insides of the shutter where all the action takes place. This shutter was 'stuttering' on the slow speeds particularly 1 sec & 1/2 sec. The cause of this is a dirty shutter speed escapement mechanism: my finger points to this speed escapement mechanism and this mechanism can be considered to be the 'heart' of a Compur shutter. This piece of clockwork controls every one of the different speeds (except the shortest one and B & T) Clean it by brushing some lighter fluid petrol very lightly across it and into it with a fine brush then blow out the solvent with a jet of air from a rubber lens blower bulb. This generally is all that is required to get it running sweet again. The main problem with all these leaf shutters is that dirt and or dried down grease has got into the clockwork to stop it working. These mechanisms are extremely reliable and quite robust. Very rarely do they fail completely or break down in my experience. IF THE SHUTTER BLADES WON'T OPEN AT ALL when you release the shutter (and it just goes 'click') it's very likely grease or dirt has dried on the shutter blades and is sticking them together.Again try cleaning them with a hydrocarbon solvent such as cigarette lighter fluid petrol applied on a cotton bud or fine brush. Work the mechanism (read the WARNING BELOW first) and clean the blades with cotton buds. Let the solvent dry out completely (the blades won't open and close if they are wet with solvent). The solvent will hold the wet blades together until it dries out. [To understand this get two pieces of wet glass such as two microscope slides then put the wet pieces together and you'll find they slide over each other only with difficulty and pulling them apart is very difficult because of surface tension (caused by hydrogen bonding in the water molecules)] BIG WARNING DON'T COCK THE SHUTTER AND TRY TO FIRE IT UNTIL THE CONTROL PLATE IS BACK ON : see step (89).
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JULY 11: (L-R) Tina Brown and Emily Blunt attend the 2022 Freeing Voices, Changing Lives Gala at Guastavino's on July 11, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images for American Institute for Stuttering)
from The Prodigal: 10
The ground dove stuttered for a few steps then flew
up from his path to settle in the sun-browned
branches that were now barely twigs; in drought it coos
with its relentless valve, a tiring sound,
not like the sweet exchanges of turtles in the Song
of Solomon, or the flutes of Venus in frescoes
though all the mounds in the dove-calling drought
the hills and gulches all briary and ochre
and the small dervishes that swivelled in the dust
were like an umber study for a fresco
of The Prodigal Son, this scorched, barren acre.
He had the smell of cities in his clothes,
the steam and soot of trains of Fascist stations
and their resounding vaults, he had the memory of rain
carried in his head, the rain on Pescara's beach
with the pastel hotels, and instead of the doves
the air-show with the jets soaring and swooping
over the Fair, the smell off that beach
came back on the rock-road where the turtle lifted
its mating music into the dry acacias,
and mixed with the smell off the galloping sea-flock,
each odour distinct, of sheep trampling their pens
as if their fear had caught the wolf-scent.
The rock-brown dove had fluttered from that fear
that what he loved and knew once as a boy
would panic and forget him from the change
of character that the grunting swine could smell.
A sow and her litter. Acknowledged prodigal.
Grey sunrise through a sky of frosted glass,
the great trees sodden, the paths below them pooled,
the headlands veiled and muslin-thin, no birds,
and pale green combers cresting through the drizzle;
a change of climate, the clouding of the self
in a sudden culture but one more confident
in its glazed equestrian statues in wet parks,
its railway stations echoing like the combers
in the ground-shaken caves under the cliff;
gathering, cresting then dissolving shallows
as light steps quietly into the house.
Light that inaudibly fits in the house
as a book on a bookshelf with its spines of tombs
and names, mouths slightly parted, eager to speak
wherever their station now. Every library
is a cemetery in sunlight. Sometimes, a shaft . . .
Across the dry hillock, leaves chasing dead leaves
in resurrecting gusts, or in the ochre quiet
leaves too many to rake on the road's margins,
too loaded to lift themselves, they lapsed singly
or in a yellow chute from the cedar, burnt branches;
lyres of desiccation choked the dry gutters
everywhere in the country, La Feuillée, Monchy,
by the caked track to Saltibus, over D'ennery.
Drought. Song of the wireless harp of the frangipani
that still makes a tangled music out of silence.
II
Now to cherish the depredations of April
even on the threshold of March, its sunlit eve—
the gommier maudit unshouldering its leaves,
barrow after loaded barrow, the leaves fading, yellow,
burnt grass and the tigerish shadows on the hillside,
and the azure a trowelled blue, and blue hill-smoke,
parched shortcuts and rust, cattle anchored in shadows
and groaning like winches, the didactic drought
against the hot sea that teaches what? Thirst
for the grace that springs in grooves of oblivious dust.
A fine haze screens the headland, the drizzle drifts.
Is every noun: breakwater, headland, haze,
seen through a gauze of English, a bright scrim,
a mesh in which light now defines the wires
and not its natural language? Were your life and work
simply a good translation? Would headland,
haze and the spray-wracked breakwater
pronounce their own names differently?
And have I looked at life, in other words,
through some inoperable cataract?
"What language do you speak in your own country?"
Every noun has its echo, a noun is a noise,
as every stone in the expanding sunlight
finds an exact translation in its shadow,
and it may be that you were halved by language
as definitively as the meridian
of Greenwich or by Pope Alexander's line,
but what makes this, if this is all it is,
more than just bearable, in fact, exultation
is the stone that is looked at, and the manchineels,
bitter, poisonous yellow berries, treacherous apples
that look like Eden's on the tree of knowledge
when the first noun was picked and named and eaten
and the shadow of knowledge defined every edge
originating language and then difference,
and subtlety, the snake and contradiction
and the sudden Babel of the manchineel.
III
The blank page grows a visionary wood.
A parallel section, no, in fact a whole province
of far, of foreign, of self-translating leaves
stands on the place where it has always stood
the right-hand margin of the page
loud, soft but voluble in their original language,
an orchestrating lexicon, veined manuscripts
going far back in time and deep in roots
and echoing in the tunnel of the right ear
with echoes: oak-echo, beech-echo, linden-echo,
and beech and birds a half-ancestral forest
whose metre was an ocean's and whose break,
parting declared the white-lined conjugation
of combers' centuries. This ocean, English and this forest weald,
this clattering natterer "burn," this distance, mist,
kept its high columns marching as my pen moves
towards that gap of light that comes upon
the bright salt arc of a bare unprinted beach
or where the piper leaves a print, its claws,
dim, imperceptible as an ancient rune—
that is the landscape, that, the stand of forest
made up of all these leaves and lines that
still rasp with delight with rhyme and incantation
pages of shade turning into translation.
And my left hand another vegetation
but not their opposite or their enemy,
palms and wild fern and praising them, the sea,
sea-almond, grape and vine and agave
that the wind's finger folded carefully
drawing its thumb to mark the dog-eared wave
across the dry hill, leaves chasing leaves
in a shiny, scurrying wind, and, in the brown quiet,
leaves, unraked, tiling the road's margins,
so loaded they don't lift, they lapse singly, yellow,
or chute from the cedars. Lyres of desiccation
in March's autumn, filling the dry gutters,
everywhere in the country, La Feuillée, Monchy,
except for the wireless harp of the frangipani
that still makes its music out of extreme stillness.
In my own botanic origins, frangere panem
to break bread, flower-flour in its white lilies,
except that in rare blossom I now remember
the flower is pink. It doesn't matter.
Since whatever hue it is, its wafer it serves that need,
petal on the sky's open palate at early mass
every morning but here most on this Sunday
with its Lenten drought, the heart-coloured flowers then
the caterpillars determinedly devour,
on a Sunday when a sadness still eats at the parallel
petals of my beaten heart, and the white pews of the sea,
the waves coming in aisles, my longing
for the communion of breakfast, the leafless,
flower-less but crusted bark of the frangipani,
frangere panem, the pain that I break and eat
flower and flour, pain and pain,
bright Easter coming, like the seas white communion.
IV
In the country of the ochre afternoon
it is always still and hot, the dry leaves stirring
infrequently sometimes with the rattling pods
of what they call "women's tongues," in
the afternoon country the far hills are very quiet
and heat-hazed, but mostly in the middle
of the country of the afternoon I see the brown heat
of the skin of my first love, so still, so perfect,
so unaltered, and I see how she walked
with her sunburnt hands against the still sea-almonds,
to a remembered cove, where she stood on the small dock—
that was when I thought we were immortal
and that love would be folded doves and folded oars
and water lapping against eroding stone
in the ochre country of the afternoon.
Derek Walcott