Metal and the Hypothalamus gland…two of my favorite things! I’m overjoyed that someone made this (and grateful for the subtitles!):
The Hypothalamus is so underappreciated. I’m glad someone paid tribute.
Found here.
Metal and the Hypothalamus gland…two of my favorite things! I’m overjoyed that someone made this (and grateful for the subtitles!):
The Hypothalamus is so underappreciated. I’m glad someone paid tribute.
Found here.
Wow…this clip stirs technological and musical nostalgia in a way that makes my little heart flutter. There’s a real sweetness to these outmoded babies chugging along in harmony. I want so much to believe that my gigantic pile of obsolete electronics do this after I’m asleep at night.
There are no effects or sampling. Simply:
*Atari 800XL as the lead piano/organ sound
*Texas Instruments TI-99/4a as lead guitar
*8 Inch Floppy Disk as Bass
*3.5 inch Harddrive as the gong
*HP ScanJet 3C for all vocals.
Found here.
It was 1994. I stayed up past my bedtime, delicately dozing off in front of the TV in hopes of catching the Closer Video. Nine Inch Nails entranced me in a visual universe that became a catalyst for many of my developing interests.

I had a sixth sense for this video. The barely audible sound of that hissing heartbeat could jar me out of the deepest sleep. I had to watch.

My heart goes out to my mother. She got wind of the lyrics and felt her tiny tween was headed for a life of violence, promiscuity and general depravity…none of which I ever even dabbled in. My sober, stable mind was such a wonderland in itself; imagination was all I needed. For all I cared, the lyrics could have been about lollipops and jellybeans.

I came across this great behind the scenes documentary about the video, which may not be for everyone but is a must see for those who love the aesthetics of the Closer video. You’ll see what went into creating images like this:

…and hear director Mark Romanek discuss everything from Mary Poppins to rotting meat.
I just realized that half the tags I use in this blog can apply to this post. Ever feel like something was made for you…even before YOU were aware of it?
Ah, the video montage…a beloved art form that distills hours of uninteresting footage into a hyper-concentrated cocktail of pure
Here, the band Blurt showcases a series of vintage exercise machines and beauty treatments.
Funny how easy it is to scoff at these “primitive” measures when current methods involve paralyzing poison injections, plastic threads under the skin that yank the face in different directions, and the now commonplace bulbous sacks of silicone.
And just for fun, see how Strong Bad makes a montage. Nowhere else can you hear the lyric “You’re a girl…or maybe a wagon, filled up with pancakes.”
As long as I’m discussing sound waves today, I might as well share some truly bizarre musical scores.
Faerie’s Aire And Death Waltz (from “A Tribute To Zdenko G. Fibich”) composed by John Stum:

I’m particularly fond of the performance instructions peppered throughout: Have a nice day…Add bicycle…Gradually become agitated…RELEASE THE PENGUINS…
Then we have String Quartet No. 556(b) for Strings In A Minor (Motoring Accident):

This one contains similarly entertaining directions: Players may not fly above the audience during performance…Shock therapy may be necessary to finish…With much passionfruit…
There are also such pearls of wisdom as “If arms fall off, re-attach and play much slower” and “Re-coat all of the pinatas with marmalade until most of the ox drivers have discovered the tube of antimatter won’t fit into some Barbie dolls.”
I must say, I’d be slightly frightened to step into this man’s brain.
Then we have Sylvano Bussotti’s Mobile-Stabile per Chitarre, Canto e Piano, which resembles something between a score and a mechanical blueprint.

I’m not entirely sure whether Play II for Harpsichord and Synthesizer, by John Stead is a musical score or biology textbook image:

This one would make a great poster:

World Beat Music…literally (by Wild About Music:

Holiday greeting, Stockhausen style:

Could your faith be enhanced by a little more accordion in the mix? Look no further!


Perhaps it’s pinstripe you seek?

Or plaid?

You can enjoy the “rhythm” with this record. A reverend singing “Tiny Bubbles.” I’m loving it.

There is also “The Singing Priest,” with his stellar enthusiasm…and wordplay (it’s a study in high fidelity sound!)

Though potential bad puns abound, these albums make me too sad to go there. I leave it to the imagination of the reader.


Now I’m going to cheer myself up with a healthy dose of WTF. Is Vicki Jamison referring to the feeding of the 5,000? How exactly does this translate to filling a cart with supermarket bread? Is she getting her daily bread? What is Jesus “enough” of? I’m so terribly confused.

These next two prove that size matters, with odd and terrifying mini doppelganger Christians…and tiny teen minions.


(Those kids are just waiting to drug him and tie him down, Gulliver style)
No, Mike Adkins, thank YOU.

Hey! A sneaky puppet escaped my attention when I was making the puppet post! I’ve just about had it with insidious puppets.

Thanks again to LP Cover Lover for a portion of these images!


Some people are drawn to a higher calling, like these fine missionaries.




I can’t help but think of this clip on American Dad, in which God asks George W. Bush to kindly downplay their relationship.
To avoid redundancy, I will refrain from snarky comments on any of the following albums.






Remember these two?

As a special treat, I’ve uploaded Jim and Tammy’s irritating grammatical atrocity “Oops, There Comes a Smile!” here for anyone who wants to listen out of morbid curiosity. But I warn you, you will not be able to get those two minutes of your life back.
I want this record so badly:

We have a double dose of covers today!
Granted, many of the albums I’ve been posting could fall under the “bad hair” category, but there are some in which the hair becomes the focal point of the image, whether we like it or not.




I feel like a more appropriate title for this record would be “God Really Squares My Buzzcut!”

Sometimes, God is the drug…sometimes the savior.




I can’t imagine that this only looks wrong in the parlance of our times, and it was entirely appropriate when these albums came out.

And conversely…

I’m unnerved by the blank-stared, lackluster “imploring” going on here:

Sometimes touch is not “bad,” just ridiculous from a graphical standpoint.
