It's all very Psyentific™ —This album is a personal compilation of previously unreleased songs, curios and experiments—culled from bits of analog and digital morsels found floating and spinning somewhere just shy of what's next. If you enjoy listening to any of it even half as much as I enjoyed making all of it, that'll be far more than twice as good as almost just enough.
Lew Taller –The Unfuture Is Certain Album Review - by Allen Dashwood
Lew has been flying under the pop music radar for over 20 years while producing a stunning variety of songs and musical soundscapes. He’s accomplished this solo and as the creative force in a number of bands, both live acts and studio boffins. He is a multi-instrumentalist and has done time in a professional studio recording other artists as well.
Lew’s first album, The Unfuture Is Certain, is now available for download and it’s a strange brew, a smorgasbord of styles that somehow form a cohesive listen. The opener, “(do the) Innovation Rock” features a frenzied guitar workout recalling Lew’s beloved Cramps and Dick Dale. An enigmatic and ridiculously calm vocal provide the tension. Track two, “Lady Cop!”, clocks in at 11 seconds and maybe that’s not a bad idea, as it’s a nasty piece of thrash guaranteed to get you kicked out of your apartment! “Forest of Dreams”, with it’s ominous technobeat, takes us on a Eurock/Sci-fi adventure with synths, wildly distorted guitars and strange, echoed vocals; let’s call it soundtrack music, shall we? Another dreamy sequence, “Forbidden,” begins in Fripp/Eno-esque ambient tape loop fashion and then becomes increasingly loud and bizarre before returning to it’s initial soothing sound. There are also a few songs featuring Lew’s outstanding bottle-neck guitar, just to add some more spice to the pot. Lew is a big John Hammond fan and “Augustingly”, in stark contrast to the more electronic portions of the album, brings us back to the blues…and maybe a nod to John Fahey? “Naples Moon” is a slow, atmospheric guitar instro that might just get Mermen or Aqua Velvets fans waxing their surf boards. Another more direct homage to The Cramps bursts out in an all too brief explosion of garage fuzz and Trashmen vocalizing called “R.I.P. Lux”, dedicated to Lux Interior. “Megabuck Dolly”? Just so we don’t get too comfortable, we’re jerked back to synthesizers and DIY-land in the 80’s. So, 15 tracks of new and vintage Lew Taller for you to download and dig! We’ll be looking forward to Lew’s next album but let’s hope we don’t have to wait so long, eh Lew?
Allen Dashwood has written reviews for the Record Collector (UK) magazine and contributed to the Beatles Canadian Discography 1962-1972 by Piers A. Hemmingsen.
"Yo Lew, warlocks and robots huh, like wizards and terminators, shit dude!! Spectacular ideas flowing!! Verry nice work yo!!"-the PhysicistS
"Awesome music man! Keep on keepin' on. Totally fresh and inspiring man! You have the balls to just givr! Great guitar sounds too. Makes me happy this music."-Amoeba Starfish
"Cool Dude!!! I like it."-Peter Marz
First release. A compilation culled from analog and digital 2, 4, 8 and 16 track material. Thanks for listening. Check out my latest guitar experiments at murgatroid.bandcamp.com if you are so inclined. Cheers
the truth will not set you free.
the truth has driven them away.
(they just want to be happy)
the truth is a grey slab of compelling journalism spewing righteously forth in a far-reaching and infinitely boring blood-soaked walkway that leads us deep into the bowels of a moral crusade...
the truth is a cosmic rasp that rips away all the interesting colors and primes the surfaces of our souls for a tidy coating of intellectual examples that seal and protect us from the dirty forces of nature...
the truth will disappoint you.
the truth is a hostile takeover.
the truth has tempered your desire.
the truth is an illegal hat-trick scored by the scowling, cross-bearing, wall-building wallowing patrons of academic power plays, long after the final buzzer...
the truth is a monolithic beacon that will focus through the swampy lens of reason to incinerate the gentle wings of our tiny, frantic dreams...
the truth is a Wannabe.
the truth is a dead letter office of the Spirit where only those who pay dearly can afford to read it's ugly rules in secret rooms...
In the great wars of 3019, I was a messenger drone. Fear was standard issue, and auxiliary plasma was kept in large, convenient dispensing towers mid field.
The gruesome battles molded themselves throughout time—Almost graceful, Certainly symmetrical, and Always sharp.
Rarest were the great Singer Ants, whose propaganda cries of twisted harmonics spurred us on to untold levels of brutality. We used their disembodied heads to build shelters from the dust storms, making chaos a bearable structure. Sweet, loud and clear; they kept singing long after they had been killed.
I didn't mind. Secret documents were entrusted to me, and I filled my scarred funneltubes with these 'criminal' poems. Nursing a sense of abstract loyalty to the now-butchered penmen whose final screams of consciousness rested safely 'neath my ragged war leathers, it was as if I had become the artist now—enlisted to protect the nascent fires of a new rebellion.
I squinted at the dusted, howling vortex, then turned and vanished deep into the Forest of Dreams.