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MOO
Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock and Roll music.
I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA.
I stopped caring if there were mistakes.
There’s not enough mistakes.
I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. Â
For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice.
I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit.
I wish it sounded even worse.
Rock and Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED.
I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA.
I stopped caring if there were mistakes.
There’s not enough mistakes.
I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. Â
For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice.
I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit.
I wish it sounded even worse.
Rock and Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED.
All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself.
Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.
Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.
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MOO
Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock and Roll music.
I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA.
I stopped caring if there were mistakes.
There’s not enough mistakes.
I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. Â
For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice.
I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit.
I wish it sounded even worse.
Rock and Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED.
I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA.
I stopped caring if there were mistakes.
There’s not enough mistakes.
I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. Â
For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice.
I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit.
I wish it sounded even worse.
Rock and Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED.
All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself.
Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.
Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.
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Description
Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock and Roll music.
I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA.
I stopped caring if there were mistakes.
There’s not enough mistakes.
I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. Â
For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice.
I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit.
I wish it sounded even worse.
Rock and Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED.
I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA.
I stopped caring if there were mistakes.
There’s not enough mistakes.
I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. Â
For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice.
I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit.
I wish it sounded even worse.
Rock and Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED.
All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself.
Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.
Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.
