by Lazercrotch

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This six track, self-titled LP is the debut of Lazercrotch (John Calvin Murphy) and it follows 7" releases on Poisonous Gases, Harmonia, and Flogsta Danshall. Dark, minimal, funky, bassy, spacy skweee from Portland, Oregon, USA.
The intro, "Sachet Melt", is a gritty, shuffling invitation to the rest of the LP. It is a tongue-in-cheek ear wink held just long enough to suggest that its slinky, stuttering synth-funk vibe might last forever. Kind of like a CD skipping in a good way. Next, "Radio Gaza" takes off like a UFO to some deep, Middle-Eastern head-bobbing if Lebanon was in some far-away galaxy made out of neon pixels, 80's vector graphics and lite-brite, lego block architecture. The third track, "Tikka Masala", is named after an Indian chicken dish, heavy on the curry. This is what's on the menu for this pack jammed space flight through the funkosphere at 90 beats per minute. Your sexy stewardess suggests you relax, and as you are staring at her butt, you become hypnotized as you notice a change in altitude. You look out the window to peep a hip-hopped, kraftwerky world of machines making everything happen. Just when it gets so ba-nay-nay that you wonder what the fuck's going on, you notice a beautiful rainbow constellation of a snake charmer and a belly dancer made out of pyrotechnics in the distance. As the smoke clears, your captain alerts you (by not saying a goddamn thing) that it's intermission. Time to flip the record. But, in your altered state, you can barely move your eyelids. You are having a dream that "Mike Tyson" is your robot dad, and he is making robot pigeons out of some sort of magic sand. The robot pigeons look a lot like that weird owl in the movie Clash Of The Titans. They fly away, taking with them messages made of binary code to a giant, secret video game cave in the clouds. All of a sudden, your robot dad Mike Tyson turns into the real Mike Tyson, dressed in a fuzzy trench coat and a fedora. You realize that he is some weird space pimp as track 5, "Mackin'" takes the airwaves. This gets you in the mood to come up with some amazing pickup line to spout out to the stewardess as she comes back to ask if you would like a drink. You tell her you'll have a drink if she's pouring. At that moment, lasers shoot out of her eye sockets and burn a hole in your shirt where your heart is. You are amazed that you are not hurt as you look back at her. "Don't you know who that is sitting right next to you?" she asks. You turn around to see a zombie of "Tony LaRussa". He is listening to this song on his iPod.


released May 1, 2012

All tracks written, performed, recorded & produced by John Calvin Murphy.



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Lazercrotch Portland, Oregon

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