Th' IoF© Audio Initiatives - Christmas Catalogue Raisonné

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 this 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, 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 ...

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. 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

IOFAI002

IOFAI001

With Christmas coming up, th' IoF© is transitioning into a Santa's Grotto of groovy giveaways! Responding to unprecedented public demand [blow it out yer ass - Ed.] each and every one of our beloved Audio Initiatives ("The AI You Can Trust"®) will be dragged kicking and screaming from the crawl space and offered to you ABSOLUTELY FREE!

Why not download multiple copies to give to friends, loved ones, and the homeless, at this very special time of year? Spread the Yuletide cheer! They make original and thoughtful Xmas gifts, and your generosity will not go unrecognised!

Each succulent serving of ear candy will be presented in chronological order, starting with the very first, and then moving on to the next, which was like the second, and so on. The third one will be like, number three? New additions will be added to the top, so you'll see the first last, so they'll count down, not up. I think I got this.

Make sure you don't miss out - why not keep this page open as an attractive screensaver!? Imagine your excitement as the next IoF©AI™ "pops up"! Oh boy! This is going to be the best Seasonal Holiday, like, ever!

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 Dreamsville, OH, sez: "Psychedelia made me question everything I was brought up to believe. Like, pool noodles? What the fuck, man?"

 

 

 

 

 

Liner Notes

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 ...

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?

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!

Neil Young BLASTS Use Of Clickbait Bikini Model To Boost Page Hits For Under-Performing Blog Piece!

Neil Young, BLASTING, yestiddy!

Famed folk-rock hitmaker Neil Young LASHED OUT yestiddy at "exploitative, sexist" use of SCANTILY-CLAD bikini model by "desperate" blog czar Farquhar Throckmorton III!

"Just because his vanity project of second-tier rock music didn't get the hits he thought it deserved, he's duping innocent, well-meaning internet enthusiasts into downloading it by using a completely inappropriate image of some chick in a bikini! And I'm not even on the comp! I did second-tier rock music better than anybody! And what's she got in her nose?"
 

And now for something completely different. This is a straightforward comp (with a little editing and crossfade) of a genre that, as far as I know, is relatively underexploited. There are thousands of psych and garage comps out there, but this draws its material from the immediate post-psych late sixties USA. They're all albums bands, and all (more or less) hard rock, just before it turned heavy. They've all been FoamFeatured™ antecedently, hence the "sampler" designation. Beaucoup of energy, harmonies, and that tensile guitar tone. A couple of softer tracks to break it up a little.

Sleeve design embodies zen-like simplicity, elegance. Title references lifechanging CBS comp Fill Your Head With Rock.

 

Uniquely for a 30 Minute Audio Initiative, it tells you right there on the cover who you can expect to hear. If any of it makes you want to follow up a band, which is the point of samplers, let me know. I'll leave you to supply details in the comments!

 

This post created by a continuous and very seasonal rainstorm that kept everyone indoors.

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.

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?

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. 

Review This Album And WIN!! A Magic Scented Ass Bracket!!

 

Say, fellows! Wanna be a supercool record reviewer, huh, do yuh huh!? Oh boy! Do those guys ever get the dames! Plus also FREE record albums from the latest recording stars! That's right! Major publications pay BIG BUCKS for some pencil-neck jerk's opinion about the new Rolling Stones album! That pencil-neck jerk could be YOU!!

Roll up those sleeves, crack those knucks, and pen a review of this here above record album [above - Ed.]! Just any old shit that comes into your pointy little head! If your review is chosen to be the best submitted, you will WIN WIN WIN this wonderful FREE GRAND PRIZE!!

SNIFF this Magic Scented ASS bracket! SNIFF IT NOW!!

 

This post funded by Otis U. Poodlepecker, Warehouse Operative, Holeville, TX
 

TL-DR Dept. - Jim Morrison

Unusually Sensitive and Artistic editorial illustration from Foam-O-Graph©

Yes probably, Morrison was the insufferable, sulky, belligerent drunk he's written off as. So what? It's not like he's going to come by your house and piss on your couch while slurring half-remembered lines from Baudelaire. You don't have to put up with his inconsiderate egocentricity, so what's your problem?

A mediocre poet, you say airily. Well, being a mediocre poet is more than not being a poet at all, which is what you are, you bum. And he was a better poet than many poets who didn't look so good in leather pants.

When the still sea сonspires an armor
And her sullen and aborted currents
Breed tiny monsters
True sailing is dead

Yebbut, he was so-oo pretentious! As I never get tired of hearing myself type: pretension is the mother of art. Without that vaulting ambition, nothing is achieved.

He couldn't actually, you know, sing? Here's John Mayer, who understands the technical aspects of singing better than I do:

He’s most commonly described as a baritone because his voice sits comfortably in a lower tessitura, with a dark tone and chest-dominant production. His range wasn’t about flashy high notes—it was about power, color, and attitude.

• Comfortable power in the low-mid range
• A naturally darker, thick tone
• Strong speaking-to-singing connection
• Less emphasis on bright, ringing top notes
• Slow, confident timing
• Controlled roughness
• Minimal vibrato (often more straight tone)

Morrison didn’t build his identity around vocal acrobatics. He built it around command. Here’s the big mistake: people think Morrison equals “sing low.” What he actually did was sing heavy.

This is good stuff, right? Read the whole piece here. So yes, he could sing. Like a motherfucker. And he had one of the most immediately recognisable voices in rock (or anywhere).

Morrison was one of the great frontmen. Yes, I know about frontwomen, we had Gracie here a few days back. There are no frontmen no more, no larger-than-life figureheads, not nohow. None. Guys who can command the attention of an audience through sheer intensity of performance, through their wild, burning presence. Elvis, James Brown, Iggy Pop. And Freddie Mercury, perhaps the last of the breed, not that I give a toss for his Saturday morning car wash music.

What we have today in the place of this magnetic electric planetary pull is niceness. Paradigm: Chris Somebody, the singer with Coldplay (is that a group?). Performers today are respected for niceness. All that testosterone strutting is a bit cringe, right? Mr Somebody is doubtless a nice guy. So, I'm sure, are Tedeschi and Trucks. None of them is likely to get his [or her - Ed.] tackle out on stage. I doubt there's a line of groupies at the stage door eager to suck them off or blow coke up their ass through a bendy straw. A shoulder pat, perhaps! A shared shy grin? ROCK AND FUCKING ROLL! Being in a Coldplay audience must be like wallowing through a sloppy sludgy soup of niceness and affection. I'm like, literally crying with niceness here! Which may be preferable to a mosh pit hammer party, but I'm not sure.

Morrison was our last bastard Dionysian, howling down the ancient days; stoned, immaculate, and absolutely live.

"It's the pictures that got small."

 

 

Perfect Tens Dept. - Herb Alpert's Tijuana Brass!

Herb's "Going Places" in style! Gaston! Dos cervecas!!

 

It's a fair criticism that th' IoF© doesn't feature a whole lot of ethnic musics from the more diverse parts of the world. The Young People Of Today are properly respectful of Mongolian Nose Flute albums and Funeral Disco Chants From Tanzania, mainly because their own music is so shit they're prepared to give anything a try.

pmac in Seville, yesterday!

 

So it's in this spirit of benign cultural appropriation that the latest Perfect Ten features in our coveted Perfect Ten feature. Those of you alert enough to have read the title of this piece (and I'm taking nothing for granted these days) will already know who I'm talking about - go back and read it now if you're still in the dark. As an extra clue, I've used AI technologies to produce a pixel-perfect blurry reproduction of the original album sleeve [above - Ed.].

For why does this album garner musicdom's most coveted award? On account which there's nothing wrong with it, ya doofus. And boy, do those Spanish-type bossa rhythms ever cheer a guy up!

Herb n' Lani, 2021. Does you good to look on such a blessed state. Human beings can be great.

 

 

This post prompted by a laudable desire for inclusivity. 

"Snob Music For Posh Twats" Dept. - Arnold Bax

Arts copyright False Memory Foam™ Art Department O'Art© Dept.

Arnold Bax is this Brit what wrote big violin music for them bands what need a stiff in a tux pointin' at them wit' a stick. Currently holed up in a palm-leaf hut on th' IoF© to avoid his creditors, Arnie and me chatted poolside whilst [grammar - Ed.] Rholonne Déodoranté served crispy hens' knees on a bed of surgery waste [Kreemé is currently interning for Bob Dylan - Ed.]

Rholonne Déodoranté

FT3 So tell us for why you got into this longhair music, Arnie!

AB Duh. To get laid. Why does any guy go into the music business? 

FT3 Did it work?

AB Oh sure. Dames fall for dat sufferin' artiste shit, like you wouldn't believe.

FT3 How did you come to write that First Symphony album?

AB I wants to write a Fifth, like dat one Beethoven guy, so I gots to start somewhere.

FT3 Talk us through the composition process, Arnie!

AB What? I don't know. I just sits dere at th' pianny wit' like dis big book o' pages wit' like lines on dem, and I put dese li'l dots in? Den some dame sashays in wit' her robe open an' drapes herself across me lap and I gets distracted. Den after I takes her roughly from behind on the piany stool, why, I casts her aside like a dog race ticket! I stands there pushin' me fingers thru me hair sayin' how is the artiste to compose when dames such as like you puts temptation in me way? She's hangin' on to me ankles and I'm draggin' her across th' floor.

FT3 This really happens? 

AB You kiddin'? You're dumber than you look. Composin' snob music for posh twats is no way to pick up dames. I shoulda bin in dem Rolling Stones. They do all right.

 

This post approved by Velda Sputnik for the Commies Code Authority© 

 

 

 

 

Bob Dylan's Gatest Hits! Dept.

"There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden" but Bob's gates are fit for a king!

 

You'll know protest singer Bob Dylan for his hard-hitting social criticism - songs such as Puff The Magic Dragon, Little Boxes, and In The Year 2525 have made it to the top of the "pop charts" in spite of a message many of the "older generation" find uncomfortable!

But did you know he also welded gates? That's right! Bob stopped by th' IoF© to promote his latest passion! We chatted poolside whilst [grammar - Ed.] Kreemé [below, and eighteen my ass - Ed.] served signature eel spleen n' Reflecting Pool water smoothies!

FT3 Bob! The Bobster! Bobby-boy! Zimbo! You're looking good, my man!

BD Right now I'm lookin' at that gal's ass.

FT3 (laughs) Tells us about this unexpected career change!

BD Just got sick of the singin'. I can sing any old shit out there, make it all one same fucking note, they don't care. They should be booin' me off stage, they're cheerin', goin' crazy. Sick of it.

FT3 So why gates?

BD I've always been interested in railings, bootscrapers, grilles, gates, anything made of iron, steel, metal. Welded. Love me a welder's torch, mask, them heavy gloves. It's a manly occupation. Writin' a fuckin' song? What kind of thing is that for a grown-ass man to do?

FT3 Right. So no more records?

BD Fuck that. Fuck that with a big iron spike with a fucking rusty point on the end. It's the welder's life for me.

FT3 Let's take a break here to show th' Four Or Five Guys© some of your work ...

BD Right, here's me at work. I'm lifting my mask here so you can see who I am. Normally that's over my face, for protection from the intense light and searing heat. OHSA very strict about that. 

 BD And here's an archway what I did for some mall or something ... no! A casino!

 

BD I mean, I made more from that than I did for my last album, uh, whatever that was. Made a shitload of money out of a casino! (laughs) Not many people can say that!

FT3 Knockin' on Heaven's Door! I hav'ta say, Bob, that's better than Tempest.

BD That one's going on tour. I'm curating a truckload of gate-adjacent welding projects for Bob Dylan's Weld Tour. I stay home, weld some more stuff ... yeah!

 

 

This post funded in part by Scarcely Credible Developments And Unlikely Directions Magazine 

 

 

Boring Publishing News

Adding a cute picture will drive traffic to your blog!

 

 

You may remember [yeah, right - Ed.] I posted a new novel, Selfies, here a while back. I had a total of four (count 'em!) reactions from the Four Or Five Guys©. Two used the same phrase - "quite enjoyed it". Imagine the impact they'd have on the cover! Another "eventually" found it to be a satisfactory read, presumably after slogging through the beginning and middle parts. The fourth sent me a much appreciated and thoughtfully detailed positive reaction (thank you, Nico!). So at least four of you read it. There may be more, who didn't quite enjoy it, or enjoy it enough to get through it, and were kind enough to keep their opinions to themselves.

Over the last few months I've submitted it to thirty-nine literary agents, in the UK, the USA, and three publishers in France who accept manuscripts in English. I researched individuals who represent this genre of novel. Each submission has to conform to specific and slightly differing requirements in terms of what they want to see, and what they want to know about you. It's nothing like as simple as emailing the manuscript (you never send the whole book). Each submission is individually researched and tailored and formatted.

Break up large areas of text with relevant illustration!

 

I contacted a total of forty-two (count 'em!) people, each of whom advertised their wants specifically enough for me to not waste their time. Let's count the replies: zero. I'm not talking about rejections. I'm talking about simple acknowledgement of receipt. Something along the lines of thank you for your submission, I'll get back to you. Or not. How long would it take to press send on a boiler-plate reply like that? But no, nothing. Zip. Nada. A deafening silence.

Either the submissions were not read at all (very likely) or speed-scanned and spiked, or read and ignored. But not one was even acknowledged. This is publishing.

I never thought it would be a publishing sensation. It's just entertaining escapist fun, with strong movie potential. A holiday read, or, if the reader is the thoughtful type, something to think about. We'll never know, will we?

No, I'm not going to "self-publish" on Amazon or anywhere else. I checked the numbers. It would be lost in the flood. Millions of books out there, for free, not getting read. This is publishing.

Perfect Tens Dept. - Jefferson And His Aeroplanes!

This is what it might have looked like if Balin's original idea was used. Pink works better, and he thought so too.

 

They don't get enough love, is what I'm saying. For why? Perhaps it was their shift into hectoring agit-prop, confused science fiction, and a string of ragged albums. And then the Starship, which has dated as well as toweling headbands and legwarmers. I reckon it was the drugs becoming more important than the tunes, but what do I know? Their first three albums remain paradigms [oh, fuck off - Ed.] of 'sixties culture, focused like a crystal lens onto the times they were made, clear and color-saturated.

Takes Off is the modern sound of folk-rock, from Marty Balin's band. What set it apart from the hootenanny hayriders was a for-the-times lyrical edginess, pencil-fucked by the prudes at RCA, some neat acid-etched guitar and Jack Casady's frankly mindblowing bass, recorded unusually close. Signe Toly Anderson and Skip Spence left before the second album, replaced by high society sex tornado Grace Slick and jazzbo sticksman Spencer Dryden. 8/10

Balin took a slight but significant step back for Surrealistic Pillow, the band creating as a whole, and the sound expanded into something immediately new - by turns battering and sharp or shimmering gentle. Slick brought two songs from the underachieving Great Society, the hit Somebody To Love and the psycho bolero White Rabbit, which sounded like nothing else more than anything else, and still does, only more so. Here's the sound of the summer of love happening, breaking through the concrete and diffusing rainbows into the air. Only Electric Music For The Mind And Body caught the mood as perfectly. 10/10

After Bathing At Baxters shows the perils of freedom, of over-indulgence. Arriving in late '67, it prefigured the end of the decade and the sun setting on the Age of Aquarius after barely nudging over the horizon. Balin was sidelined to one song and experimentation was valued for its own sake. Again, it's a perfect encapsulation of the times, but the times were already troubled, and the lack of focus, of a cohesive identity, that was to plague the band's later releases was apparent in the wider context of a counterculture uncertain how to replace mindless hedonism with something lasting. Yes, it's a nearly great album, but that nearly is crippling. In spite of some rave reviews, Baxter's fell short of its lofty aim. Grace Slick: "We figured we were going to produce the most brilliant album released in rock ... we had no idea what we were doing." I blame the drugs. 9/10

 

This post approved safe for human consumption by the FADAMDA (Food And Drugs And More Drugs Administration)

See Grace demonstrate mothering skills! 

Oh my.

One for Snorkers

Firesign Double Disc TwinPack Twofers™! Dept.

 

Available scans of this awesome cover are universally shit. I blame the internet.

 

You have nothing better to do with your ears right now than squirt new, liquid Firesign Ear Canal Cleanser™ into them! And what swifter, cleaner way of delivery than clicking the cunningly hidden StealthLink© embedded in this post!

 

Terrible, horrible cover by Phil Yamamoto and his girlfriend. It was Phil's only design commission, and I wonder why.

 

These swell dual discs, the Firesign's only original twin vinyls, offer:

🖕MicroHybrid© cleansing technology!

🖕Refreshful MintyMenthol™ aftertaste!

🖕Sparkling RIAA Redline® performance!

 

Add to the fun!

Is that even possible, you ask, your voice choking with emotion, that we could have even more Firesign fun? These two swell extry deliverables, StealthLinked© together somewhere in this paragraph (I forget, so don't ask), answer your question with a resounding YES!

De-tuned as in the crappy songs have been deleted. You won't notice.

 

Phil "Rock God" Austin's feeble, boring, and irrelevant musical interludes SAVAGELY edited out, resulting in a smooth, Liqui-Glyde™ listening experience. You should thank me. Also for the new cover, which spares us Austin's nipple.

... and here's Snorky's faahhhbulous cover for four hours of live radio (see comments):

 

Bravo, Snorkers! Graphic perfection!

Snorkers knocks it out the park and into the frying pan with his cover for "Rarities"! Link in comments.

 

You'll treasure these legacy recordings just like all the other shit you download but never get around to playing!

The Olds Are The News Dept.

 

Ideas: super-celebs, NFT bored monkey, Banksy. Image search about five minutes, fooling around with filters, fonts - maybe fifteen, tops. Not over-thinking is a key Stones attribute. These wouldn't have flown as real designs, due to copyright/legal problems I'm not bothered by. The Stones have form in eye-wincing "bad taste" - Get Your Ya-Yas Out? Some Girls? Voodoo Lounge? Hackney Diamonds? Yikes and thrice yikes!

THIS JUST IN!

Famed Dutch fine artiste Koen got his crayons out, too!

Richard Simmons Launches "Fitness For The Homeless" Program!

Longtime homeless bum-ette "Babs" (center) sets hat on fire to keep warm!

You'll know TV's Richard Simmons from popular TV show Hey! Fatso!, but did you know he's also Ambassador for NYC's Fitness For The Homeless™ Program? Richard stopped by th' IoF© yestiddy to tell us about exciting fitness initiative! We chatted poolside whilst [grammar - Ed.] Kreemé [eighteen my ass - Ed.] served signature clam juice and binwater smoothies!

FT3 Heyyyy! Richard my man! Th' Simster! Still can't afford a pair of pants, huh?

RS My Richard Simmons® ScantiShorts© offer silky freedom of movement with the added support of Neoprene™ gusset technology!

FT3 Enough product placement already! This homeless deal - give us the skinny!

RS Why, everyone can get a lean, buff body like mine with just a few minutes workout - even homeless bums! Let's face it, it's not like they got jobs to go to! (laughs) Anyways, I have to dash, I have an invite to a Soup Kitchen tonite!

FT3 Er ... you may want to watch The Other Guys movie before you commit to this engagement.

RS (winks) Why do you think I'm going?

Uh-oh! Someone threw a swell album in the trash! Can you descry it in above Foam-O-Graph©, readers? Grand deliverable for lucky winner of today's competition!