by Phlebus Clay

11.9.2014 - WINTHRUPP & DORCHESDAR, MA - Phlebus hear agin. So's, as you all know, I'm the live musics editer here at the Lapin Herald. That mean I go out two concertz an then tell you how it make me feel on the insides and such. Well, this wekend was no axe seption. They tells me "Phelbus, you gots to take you a bus out t'wards the Boston aria and make your way up to some place cald Wintripp."

"Why that is?" I questioned back to them. They saysd Jawzwa was playing a shoe there in some fine stablishment. I says, OK, but I needs my purdeem up front for living expenses. The big city aint cheap. I'd bee loukin at upwards of $40 per night for lodging aloan. Up in that carpetbagger part of the country they probably make me sip lahtays and kiss men on the lips by law. I aint know what to expect.

So's the Grayhownd drops me off in downtown Boston, right? And the guy... well's, I thinked he was a guy... in the infomasion boof telled me I got to go northbound on one of there unnergrownd locomotives and then get on anuther buss. I says "well that's fuckin retarded. I was jussed on a goddamn buss. Why he aint taked me there direct-like?" They start jabberin away some nonsense about the city having a bunch of different busses what go in different diretshins. I's like, "you spect me to be leaf ure fancypants town has multi-pull busses?" Sounded fucking stoopid then, sounds fuckin stoopid now. Alls the same, I found my way to this sipposid "Winthrip". No thanks to the MBTA, honistly.

I got into the goddamn place roundabouts 8PM. It's like, where the fuck everyone at? The place was dead as fuck, so I'm like "bartender, aint you done promotions?" He shuck his head and gave me some goddamn cosmopolitin to drink. Mind you, I ordered a pint of Golden Anniverzeree, but they said alls they had was cosmos or "chocotinis". I gues I got the lesser of too evils. Tasted like momma's nale polish remover, but inn a bad weigh.

8:15 roles around and some fello goes up on the stage (cept weren't rely a stage, more like a part of the restaurant where folx wasn't sitin) and starts tappin away at his like computer box machine and drums start a playin'. I's like, how that be? Back home ifn' we want drums, we gotta call up one of the Percy boys from up the road and he comes by with a snare straped to his chest bangin' away like his grategrategranduncle did at the Battle of Pea Ridge. But the Percy boys are a bit ruff around the ejis, so we don't call them much. We just play our songs on the bango and Jew's harp, but I degress...

This guy "Jawzwa" starts playing some things and singing bout his emotions and whatnot. Their was noises in betwixt the numbers. Not my cupatea. I had to all listen hard for the chorus and it was all like, stuff I wasn't expectin on, so it made me uncumfrtroble. I yeled out for him to maybe do a Creadince song or too, but he ingored me. By the fith song, I was all "bartender, get me anothr cosmo cuz it's gonna be a long night." But soon as I thought things was bleke, he finished up with a version of the Golden Girl theme song, like from the begining of the TV shoe.

Man, I loved the Golden Girl. It all ways made me giggil. So I gess the evening wasn't a total loss.

After the shoe, I headed back to the motor lodge to catch some shuteye. Cept, when I woke up, ready to head back home, I got a call sayin I had to hang around town a whiles longer and rite about another Jawzwa showe what was gonna happen on the upcoming Saturday. Grate, I thought... I gotta kill a hole weke in a citie I aint even no, and with no money to speak of (purdeem was spended alreddy on the cosmos).

So I thought I would look round at all the histrical stuff Boston has to ofer. Like the Poll Revear statue and whatnot. Well, I takled that in about 3 ours and weren't much imprest. I spent the othar 6 days more or less layin' low in the alleywayz.

Saturday aftornune comes around and I find mysef in the Dorchestar nayb or hood. A rele rachaelly diverz sorta place. Like downtown Little Rock. I got into the hall wear the Jawza things was sippose too go down. I relay licked this place. Much bettor than the Winthripp one. All the people at this shoe were on my level. They served my kinda bere and the opening act was grate. They war them caps like papa wears and some sports t-shirts and man was they lowd! Nocked my socks of. No what else was grate? There hole preformins was full of the kinda angor I can relaid too and they let me now rite off the bats what they ethnocentrificle back ground were. I was all, NOW THIS I LICK!

But then Jawzwa pranced up to the mike.

Yup, you guest it... more computer bleeps, delokit guitarring and senyouall vocals. I's like, BRING ON THE FIRST BAND! But know, it was more Jawzwa. Middleweigh through his set the deejay comes up and cuts him off, tellin the oddy yens we gotta anouns the rafle winners. I was rele excited cause I bought about $1,000 worth of tickets on credit, nowing that I was shore to win. Well... to make a long storey sured, I got zilch. Not even the fancy new 14" TV with a built in VCR that I was dreamin over. I'd like, "FUCKIN HELL! WHY ME?" The bartender came round axing me for the money I borrowt, so I skeedaddled on outta there and ran to the Greyhound station.

In concluson, Jawzwa aint all he crakt up to be. But that opening act... them I like rele gud.


by Dandiford Y. Lion

9.23.2014 - BARCELONA, SPAIN - From the rolling hills north of this Catalan metropolis comes a new collection of Mediterranean poetic pop. The preceding years have shown this one man recording act to be a versatile, surprising and highly personal project by the enigmatic Demian. This November brings both a new Ô Paradis album entitled Nacimiento and a tribute CD featuring interpretations of Ô Paradis songs by his friends and contemporaries around the world. This tribute, Nada Que Perder: Una Celebración de Ô Paradis, includes covers by notable artists such as David E. Williams, Naevus, Mushroom's Patience and twelve others. This reporter has been provided with an advance promo of both this and Nacimiento, and I must say... good golly. What an action-packed joyride.

Upon landing at Barcelona's Demian Nada Intergalactic Spaceport, I quickly ran through customs despite the protests of security mercenaries. "No time to talk, kids. I've got an important interview to conduct," I clarified. I jumped into a rental hovercraft, threw its owners to the curb and jettisoned off to a nude beach to catch a bit of sun. Several hours later, I recalled the purpose of my trip and redirected myself to Demian's mountainside compound.

The artist's residence at first struck me with a sense of awe at its understated elegance and electrified razorwire fencing. "Nasty business that would be," I noted inwardly. "I'll take the old-fashioned route and gain ingress via finger-centric doorbell activation methods." I rang.

"¿Como?" asked the help through the intercom.

"Dandy Lion here from the States. I'm looking to pick Demian's brainian."


"Au contraire, servant. I'm gonna be meeting the lord of the house whether you like it or not. Now, we can do this the easy way, or I can resort to violence. Being a peaceful man, I say let's go with option A. Otherwise, I'll be taking out my puños americanos. Capisce?" The gates opened.

Casa Demian was revealed before me with topiary animals and frescoes depicting ancient Japanese erotica. "Que elegante," I didn't say, though I could have.

"I like my peace and quiet," Demian began. "Please infer no ill will from the butler's initial attitude. It is his job to keep out the riff-raff."

"Fair enough. I'm on business here."

Demian reclined in his throne and mused. "I have poured my soul into this album. Spilled my blood. Things of that nature. Put something like that in your article. It sounds dramatic." I suggested that we tour his home studio to get a first hand view of the recording process, but he rebuffed my request by claiming that he had burned it down immediately following the recording of Nacimiento. This curious (and expensive) habit was difficult to take seriously. I played along and suggested that we sit a while by one of his pools and dig deeper into the album's back story.

"Nacimiento involves Rorsach tests converted to audio formats... a spilled gallon of electric blue paint." He said many things along this line. A small cyclops holding a tray of empty martini glasses approached him and I cut him off. "Enough of these pleasantries, Demian. What of the tribute album?"

"I know nothing of this."      

It was with this final obstruction that I left Demian completely and high-tailed it across town to the abandoned building that Raul Lopez of Comando Suzie was using for shelter. He was burning books and clothing in an oil barrel and warming his hands. The independent music industry had been good to him. Summoning him with stale bread crusts, I questioned him about his approach to the version of "Conversaciones Con Un Mismo" he supplied to Nada Que Perder. Lopez noted that his involvement in the tribute was mainly based on promises of royalties from Lapin. These promises were not real, he later clarified, and instead should have been interpreted with the intended sarcasm.

"The Lapin executives said much about the inevitable riches to come my way after the release of this album. I took them at their word. And now, well, you see where I am." Lopez made hand gestures at his new, for lack of a better word, home. I slinked away and boarded a plane for London, the city well known for its most notable resident: Lloyd James of Naevus.

Surely he would be able to give me some useful information about one of the two songs he worked on for this tribute. James met with me in a parking lot he cheekily referred to as a "car park". Leaning against his Jaguar, Mr. James began to quote Proust. I interrupted and asked for some tea and crumpets for the full-on English experience. He clarified that, racially, he was Welsh. I nearly admitted to knowing nothing about the country of Welshia.

However Lloyd quickly got me to wager 50 pounds that I could name a stereotype about his people. I failed to do so, but I refused to pay my debt all the same. And with that, I left the England and their muffins behind me.

Though I have scoured the Earth trying to independently verify the details of these upcoming albums, I have sadly been unable to do so. Instead, I must rely on the soulless press release from Lapin operatives. As they dryly put it, "Nacimiento and Nada Que Perder will be released simultaneously in November on compact disque and available through"

Time will tell if this is a lie.