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/a>JACOB & THE TERRIBLES
\n\nhttp://www.worceste rmag.com/night-and-day/featured/The-Terribles-115138589.html
\n< a href='http://www.terriblesgramandgazette.com/' onclick='javascript:_gaq. push(['_trackEvent'\,'outbound-article'\,'http://www.terriblesgramandgazet te.com'])\;'>http://www.terriblesgramandgazette.com/
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THE INTELLIGENCE
\n[youtube]http://youtu.be/7aIhmX KMsls[/youtube]
\nhttp://www.facebook.com/theintelligenceband
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KING TUFF
\n[youtube]http://yout u.be/Eghg8092l_E[/youtube]
\nA more charismatic\, enigmatic nomad of a furioso frontman/artist/guitar legend could not be imagined. You can’t make this shit up.
\nGrinning gold teeth behind blonde shades\, in b lack\, skeletal denim\, with a studded “KING TUFF” across the shoulders where feral locks fall around his infamous “Sun Medallion.” With an acoustic guitar slung over the shoulder\, King Tuff slinks throug h the abandoned halls of Detroit’s Malcolm X Academy. His baseball hat rea ds “VERMONT.” It’s the 4th of July.
\nWill somebody please snap a ph oto of this animal before it escapes back into the wilderness from which i t came??!!
\nMagic Jake pulls up on a motorcycle\, riding left-hande d with his bass guitar hanging from the right arm\, shoeless.
\nKenn y arrives in a rusted van\, drums stacked in the back atop a shedding sofa complete with coffee table and a thermos full of god knows what.
\nCaptain Cox\, prodigy engineer\, is attempting to “fix” the mixing console \, on his back\, under the wires\, a flashlight between his teeth and sold ering gun in hand.
\n“COX!” I bark\, “What the FUCK are you doing?”< /p>\n
“Just trying to get these channels to work\,” he laments.
\n“What’s wrong with them?” I lean under the desk and practically fall into a pile of live spaghetti.
\n“I built them\,” he confesses.
\nK ing Tuff sits\, center stage between Magic Jake and Kenny\, his trademark guitar\, Jazijoo\, on his lap while the rhythm section diligently loops th e groove under Tuff’s frenetic fingering.
\nSilent on a marble stair case\, a ghost of a child\, King Tuff\, expressionless\, leans back into a half shadow\, with rays of silver rings leaping under incandescent light. The sessions go long into the bordering hours of morning.
\nNever a dull moment. King Tuff exclaims\, “I’m an expert on the vibraphone.” I la ugh\, and then he performs one\, perfect take. Seriously.
\nMy famil iarity with Was Dead\, his last release\, was limited. Under the avalanche of thirty-something demos\, I’d selected 16 to record for his Sub Pop deb ut.
\nAfter investigating Was Dead I realized that\, with his latest offering\, his songwriting was stretching far beyond the thrill of the im mediate dance-floor reflex and now revealed a songwriter with a keen eye i nside everyone. That was the stuff that I was interested in. Embarrass me! I don’t give a fuck about your ex-girlfriend.
\nKing Tuff: “You alw ays want to erase the imperfect in your beautiful face\, and you think abo ut the time you waste in this impossible place.”
\n“Loop those fucki ng beats\, Kenny!” was my mantra. I shout at the session! Millions of albu ms arrive daily\, yet for Tuff\, this is the only one. And I understand th at perfectly.
\nKing Tuff sang 16 songs in two days. We chant: “Nobo dy gives a shit!” This is not precious\, it’s priceless—ART. Make it\, don ’t molest it.
\nBut how? More frustration! More saturation! More imm ediacy! Filthier! Frighten me! Shake it ‘til you break it! It’s a perversi on of a language that sounds like Rock & Roll. But new\, again.
\nRo ck & Roll is dead. King Tuff Was Dead. Rock & Roll is alive. King Tuff is dead. The passion is all there is. We ARE wild strawberries.
\nAn ar tist should never be careful\, nor should the audience covet. Take the sho t! Embrace the imperfection. Create more music\, carelessly.
\nWe’ve created something here. King Tuff:http://www.subpop.com/releases/king_tuf f/full_lengths/king_tuff should not be inspected or even listened to with critical ears. Cut your ears off. Rock & Roll is meant to be blasted into your cells\, penetrated\, and absorbed. It’s a visceral experience.
\n< p>Seek solace in solitude when you’re dead. If you aren’t able to recogniz e the genius in this epic album\, then you’re already dead. Kill yourself. Or get a job.\nYour choice.
\nStop here. Don’t pay attention . Blast it! It’s not precious\; it’s real. It belongs to you. Do what thou wilt. It’s yours.
\nAll that aside\, this album fucking rules. I sh ould know\, I’ve heard it about a million times.
\n~Bobby Harlow
\n DTSTART;TZID=America/New_York:20121020T210000 DTEND;TZID=America/New_York:20121020T234500 LOCATION:AS220 Concert Hall @ 115 Empire St\, Providence\, RI 02903\, USA SUMMARY:King Tuff\, Jacob and the Terribles\, and The Intelligence URL:http://www.as220.org/ai1ec_event/king-tuff-jacob-and-the-terribles-and- the-intelligence-2/?instance_id= X-COST:$6 END:VEVENT END:VCALENDAR