Sunday, October 25, 2026

Merch Dept. - Jeff Beck Launches Own-Brand Croc Buttons™

No AI was used in the creation of this parody masterclass


Raven-tressed Jeff Beck is no stranger to the shores of th' IoF©! Yes, the in-demand trade fair gear demonstrator wowing NAMM™ Show attendees [below - Ed.] has antecedently honored th' Isle with his Hummel Figurine© collection!
So what is the Sultan Of The Stomp Box up to these days? Seeing as how he hasn't recorded shit since them jazz-funk cut-outs fifty years back? What's that you say? You don't remember them so good neither? Okay, how about since Happenings Ten Years Time Ago, more like sixty years time ago? Hard nope? You've heard of him, though, right? I mean, the guy's iconic ...

 

Whammy Bar Wizard wows crowd with virtuoso volume knob demonstration!

 

Turns out The Prince Of The Pick Guard [getting desperate much? - Ed.] has been secretly prepping what will be one of this season's most exciting leisure footwear initiatives - his signature range of music gear-themed Jeff Beck™ Croc© Buttons®! Oboy! The Maharajah Of The Machine Head [oh, stop! - Ed.] dropped by th' Isle O' Foam© yestiddy to grant th' Four or Five Guys© an exclusive sneak preview of this magnificent merchaganza! We relaxed poolside whilst Kreemé [left, and eighteen my ass - Ed.] served homemade whelksfoot and hamwater smoothies garnished with deep-fried larks' eyeballs in a nest of drain hair.

Kreemé, yestiddy

FT3 So! Th' Führer o' th' Fretboard! Welcome! Lookin' good! Is that your real hair?

JB [adjusts wig] It's me signature barnet, innit. 'Ere - where's that bird gone?

FT3 Talk us though this, uh, Croc Button bullshit you got going...

JB Well, I completed me 'Ummel Figurine collection some time ago, an' I was lookin' for somethin' to occupy me time.

FT3 Why not try to make one great album before you die? Just one fucking album that doesn't make us cover our face with our hands?

JB [sulkily] Could if I wanted to. Just don't want to.

FT3 Ri-ight. Croc Buttons? Seriously?

JB Yeah! I started givin' 'em away at trade fairs, little miniature control knobs an' effects pedals an' that the chicks could plug into their sandals. I mean, there are no chicks at those things, but the idea was to attract a new audience. Chicks, mainly. Does Kreemé wear Crocs©? Wouldn't mind pluggin' 'er 'oles! [laughs]

FT3 Ye-ess ... you brung some albums for th' Four Or Five Guys©?

JB Nah. Don't listen much to records these days. Mind you, never did! [laughs]

FT3 [laughs]



This piece, especially commissioned by Johannes Adam Ferdinand Alois Josef Maria Marco d'Aviano Pius, Hans-Adam Prince of Liechtenstein [left - Ed], celebrates and commemorates over three million visits to th' IoF©, made by hundreds of thousands of freeloading ingrates, arm-chancers, merry-andrews and raggedy-ass bums with nothing better to do. My thanks to you all. Well, very nearly all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 


Tuesday, October 6, 2026

Draft Dodging Dept. - Steve Cataldo

Somehow the mp3 files got corrupted, either while I was retagging them with the new artwork, or before. I found a new download source and corrected the tagging issues, so please redownload if you had a problem! Link in comments.

Front Page Review's "Mystic Soldiers" was recorded in '68 NY but shelved until '97. Been reissued a couple of times, always with a shitty cover, so I got my crayons out [see above - Ed.]. It's an absolute treat, if you like late 'sixties psych straight outta Bosstown via NY. Short songs, FX, and that needle-nose guitar tone that gives me shivers. Produced by Alan "Ultimate Spinach" Lorber, so you know what to expect. Thirty minutes of quality psycholation.

Steve Cataldo, guiding light behind Front Page Review, went on to record the better-known but still obscure "Saint Steven" for Probe in '69, short songs flowed into suites, heavier on the FX and samples. He can play guitar! He can sing! He can write!

 

Still a young dude, he came to light again for a disappointing New Wave stretch with the Nervous Eaters, who are kind of like The Knack but without the hit(s). And then - nuthin'. But this dual delivery of righteous psych is enough to establish his name here on th' IoF©, and maybe in your hearts.

Monday, August 31, 2026

Au Reservoir!


Something beautiful. Always.



IOFAI006 Can you spot the differences, boys and girls? There's a jolly prize for the first postcard with the right answer!

I've given Thirty Minutes In Lost Albion [above - Ed.] a good kicking, because it wasn't quite what I wanted it to be, and after a couple of days work it now is. Huzzay! It's unlike the two previous "immersive" AIs [AI = Audio Initiative™ - Ed.] in that it's not designed to be calming and relaxing. The first half does that job nicely enough, with lashings of pastoral bliss and working class jollity, then the war clouds loom and we veer off into wiccan/Green Man mythos, ending in a melancholy, even sombre way, coming home to a country we no longer recognise (and realising the significance of our journey). It's unlikely to be a recording you whistle along to while you fold the laundry, but it is "uniquely brilliant and powerful", as one listener*was kind enough to observe.

If you already downloaded the original, replace with this reworked version, which you can tell by the subtly altered cover art.


*Me


IOFAI005

To Slumberland used the same techniques as Blue Horizon to create a sleepy dreamscape. Some beautiful synchronicity with Clarence Clemons' sax (from his criminally little-known solo album Peacemaker) fitting perfectly in key, timing, and mood with Paul Horn's flute in the Great Pyramid; a meeting of the spirits, continents and decades apart. They couldn't have played better together if they'd played together. Key discoveries: Rodrigo Amarante, Milla Jovovich, and the Clemons album [use search button - Ed.]. And note how HAL's heartbreaking Daisy (reverting to infancy as he's put to sleep, just as Bowman reverted to the womb to be reborn) segues into the next piece of music ... nothing lasts, but nothing is lost ...


IOFAI004

The first three AIs (a trilogy of Barbarella/Alice/Acid adventures) were simple compared to the second three, which used many more and much shorter samples, over and underdubbed, backwards and forwards melting, from a far wider selection of sources, both musical and purely sonic. I couldn't now tell you where much of it comes from, although the edits of songs are familiar enough. Accidental glitches, where scraps became repeating patterns. Editing on a fractal scale in Audacity, sometimes juggling sounds less than a second long. Hundreds of cogs in this machine. Beyond The Blue Horizon's theme is obvious enough - the search for heaven on earth. Can the exotic exist in a world flattened and coarsened by the internet? A cinematic immersion in the exotic, in beauty and hope. There are worse ways to put half an hour behind you. Headphones preferably, solitude, and passive attention.

IOFAI003

IOFAI003 Thirty Minutes Down The Rabbit Hole

For those of th' Four Or Five Guys© what downloaded the previous two curations in the series, this is exactly like more of the same only different. The same state-of-the-industry standards and best global practices alchemically combine to deliver excellence in deliverables  - the very best in our style of audial entertainment! You'll enjoy spotting familiar landmarks on this journey into the id, and yet there'll be surprises aplenty for the most experienced psychonaut!

As before, we strongly recommend ingesting catering-quantity hallucinogens - then you can wander off down the rabbit hole and not bother with listening to this. But should you get it together, headphones, eyes closed, and an undisturbed half hour to your bad self will be thirty minutes well spent!

IOFAI002


IOFAI002 Thirty Minutes Through The Looking Glass

Here ya go, pals! When your grandchildren cluster at your slippered feet, gazing up with eyes undimmed by life's bitter travail, and ask "gee Gwampy, what was fychodoolia?" You can play the li'l tykes this, because this is what was.

You will need headphones. You will need a half hour to yourself. While you immerse yourself in the fractal fringe of the fun zone, try to discern the Cheshire Cat on the album cover! And th' Eye of Agamotto! Hoo boy! Some fun, huh, gang?


IOFAI001

IOFAI001 Thirty Minutes Over Wonderland

Like everything else in life, this didn't turn out how I expected. It's not the abstract ambient psych psuite I originally intended, nor is it the simple comp of unaltered tracks that took its place when the whole thing got All Too Much. It's something in-between, tracks edited and merged into a pseamless psych flight. There's nothing throat-slashingly obscure here - how many do you recognise?

The whole thing floats by in an iridescent bubble you can climb into for a while. Keeping it to thirty minutes (I have so many massive comps I never listen to) meant leaving out [YOUR FAVORITES]. And a couple of mine. There's nothing remotely heavy, no surprise mood breakers, but enough variety to keep you from nodding out (unless that's what you want to do). Nothing camp or ironic or exploito-fake, no "referencing" or "chanelling", and nothing recorded since way back then. The super-saturated color, the patchouli shimmer, the dumb beautiful optimism, these are authentic manifestations of the times. As live as you want them to be.

If you've forgotten the sun, don't worry, the sun remembers you ...




Jenny Dhalia [left - Ed.] of Mons Veneris, CT. sez: 
"Why, these Isle O' Foam© Audio Initiatives™ offer my husband and I the tops in quality entertainment!"








Rollo Rumpy-Pumpy [left - Ed.] of Knuckbuster, AK, sez: "As mother of five rambunctious li'l rugrats, I find the soothing qualities of these recordings a blessed relief!"









Verruka Kowznofski [left - Ed.] of Semensville, OH, sez: "Psychedelia made me question everything I was brought up to believe. Like, pool noodles? What the fuck, man?"

 

 




 

 A note on the covers: they're created in exactly the same way as the music. Shattered fragments brought together by a concept. Discovered in memory, by memory. The last post for a while.

 

 

Foam-O-Graph© shews Four Or Five Guy©, yestiddy!

 

This is nuts:

(Stats screenshot September 5)

Saturday, August 1, 2026

TL-DR Dept. - History Is Collapsing



Remember the "No Kings" marches? Seems like a lifetime ago. Those were the days, right? A wool hat, a thermos, a hand-painted sign. Remember how releasing the Epstein Files was going to bring the whole power structure down? The Epstein Files?

The Epstein business has effectively disappeared into the black hole of history, along with the Panama Papers, the Kennedy assassination, and all the other events for which we were not in the need-to-know category. Trump was right when he reacted with "are we still talking about Epstein?" Right in the sense that for most people, it's no longer of any interest. It's in the past, what's done is done. The chances that any of Epstein's friends - and we know who they are - will ever have to answer for anything at all is not even remote. Maxwell is in a government-funded Extended Vacation Facility, and that's good enough. Justice has been done. End of.

Ice squads patrolling the streets, abducting citizens, throwing little kids into cages. Shooting anybody they feel like. Yeah, well, these things happen. Whatcha gonna do? There's always the mid-terms. If he lets them happen.

Everything is a distraction. Not just Trump's Vanity War. History is collapsing around us as the world burns. We have other things to think about.

Whatcha gonna do?



Thursday, July 30, 2026

TV's Reg Varney Reviews Latest Jazz-Rock LP! Dept.

Foam-O-Graph© - "Making Your World - Make Sense!"

 

You'll know cheeky diminutive funnyman Reg Varney [above - Ed.] from TV's long-running series Blimey! You Can See Her Knickers! but did you know he's something of a jazzrock authority? [I'm guessing not Ed.] That's right, music enthusiasts! Reg kept the great cow-faced British public happy thru the war years [up to '69, then - Ed.] with his cheery chuckle and lecherous eye for the ladies, so he seemed the obvious choice to review Mrs. Santana's new jazzrock waxing! Take it away, Reginald!

And a big hi-de-hi-de-ho to all you jazzrock fans out there! Ding ding! Room for more inside! Farq lent me this new LP by Cindy Blackman Santana to review. Apparently hubby Carlos gave her permission to make her own record, and I'm all for the little ladies being allowed their time outdoors. It's the times, innit? The more bras burned the better, say I! Phwoar! But on a serious note, Mrs. Santana plays the drums, and I'm sure even the most feminine feminists would agree with me that this is a man's job! We men are built stronger in the muscles and frankly have you ever known a dolly bird be on time? (laughs) So all credit to her for trying, say I, but don't forget hubby's dinner needs to be on the table!

What's the record like, then? Well, in all honesty like, I ain't played it. I'm a bit put off by the Blackman thing to be honest - what's that about? And like I say, a girlie playin' the drums goes against common sense! Do me a favour! They'll be drivin' the buses next! Ding ding! Fares please! (cackles)

Thank you, Reginald! Th' Four Or Five Guys© may have noticed [again, my guess is not - Ed.] I have substituted my own cover design for the original, which made my brain hurt. Here it is:

 

This looks like ... nope, I give up. It defies coherent thought and rational analysis. It makes the cover for Foreign Tongues look strangely beautiful. What has she got on her feet? Elf sneakers? What are her legs doing and where are they going? It looks like her image has been cut out with safety scissors in a school project for blind children. The phrase what the actual freaking fuck seems applicable. Here's my replacement, suitable for framing:

 

 

Anyway, as on previous Mrs. Santana albums, hubby Carlos and barbecue buddy John McLaughlin contribute fretwork, and they're the least interesting tracks on the album. Only occasionally during the over-long running time do I yell stop playing the goddamn drums already! and it's a very creditable outing in The Genre That Refuses To Die. Download in the comfort of your own home as the world burns.

 

This post inspired by a thwarted desire to charitably reassess Mr. Varney's elusive genius. I was right first time.