Just by the look of the cover, I knew this one was going to be a real screeper. Psychedelic in every sense of the word and guaranteed to get the "What the fuck are you listening to?!" response from anyone whose ears are worthy of a listen. People who like shit, as in music that stinks, won't like this record.

The new generation of nugget rock n' roll. This isn't some poppie punk band that's going to make you disappointed, or puke for that matter because it can't get you off like the old sound could. This is the real deal. This is your soundtrack for stumbling round the drive-in with Dally and Two-Bit.

I have to be honest about this one. This came to our apt. in a box with a bunch of LP's and I couldn't remember what the fuck it was. For a week it didn't touch the player for fear I wasted my money on some minimalist electronica album. And it's not that I have anything against the minimalist electronicans of the world, I just wasn't in the mood for that genre at the moment. Anyway, it was an assumption based on the cover alone (which I happen to like) that proved me to be a fool! One part Paris, one part tumbleweed. A travelling sonic ballet. Good stuff.

There are days, which turn into nights that turn into mornings, where I search the internet in hopes of discovering the greatest musical stylings to ever grace the wax. I'm not saying that this particular 7" falls into that category, but if you were to ask me my opinion on the Muslims s/t LP which I purchased months earlier, my response would be, "I have no fucking clue,!" because all I've been listening to is Parasites...over, and over, and over again."

Sorry folks! You may have other JJT or Wooden Wand albums that are more to your liking, but this was the album I heard first. Track one is worth the price of admission alone.

After listening to Wasa Wasa and Sing Brother Sing, I admit I was eager for some more Beefheart-esque hard rock psych diddies. Although these mind melters weave their way a plenty on this album, there's a noticeable transition of sound from this s/t LP to that of their first two albums. So much so, it sounds like a different band at times. Kind of like the "Bull of The Woods" change with the Elevators...which I happen to love. Maybe you could say more hippie, but still able at any moment to shove a meat hook in your back, and hang you in the freezer.

It seems like many a moon since my friend Bill and I drove through the back roads of the old country sniffing glue with 'A Tear for Eddie' resonating through the dashboard. Needless to say, that song, along with the rest of the album helped make taking drugs more fun. Just like the Q, they play it all, (all that's good anyway) and they're ridiculous live!

I can't say enough about this person place or thing that happens to make up Sun Araw and parts of Magic Lantern. This is some of my favorite neo-psych, If not my one guaranteed source for brain melts and sonic journeys that venture toward the dark rift territory. I'm talking about tall figures in cloaks, with no faces that hand out fuzzy candies all day! Fuzzy candies that give you night terrors. Not nightmares...night terrors.

I know what you're thinking; you haven't even had the chance to pick up the Toys LP and now this. Fuck!!! Let me explain. Toys came out first right? Forward to the record store. Inside store . You ask the owner if he has Funkadelic Toys? He says, "Yes, right there." He points. You turn around to see the CD. You say, "No, I mean the LP." He replies, "I don't think that was released on LP?" You become afraid and panic, "But I swear I saw it on LP?" He replies, "No." followed by a "Nope." You follow that with a "Fuck!!!" He then suggests to you, which happens to be in store on vinyl, a copy of U.S. Music with Funkadelic. Here comes the decision: Go with the record you know little about, which happens to be U.S. Music with Funkadelic, or go with the CD of Toys based solely on the fact that somewhere along the way, Mr. Hazel is showing up with a big bag of fuzz-funk freakouts guaranteed to suit your fuzz-funk freakout needs. Sounds tasty, but you choose the record. So now you're home and eager to find out if you got your money's worth. You play all of side one. You like it. Classic Funkadelic vibe throughout. Happy and satisfied you are. Moving along to side two, track four. Yup. Ok. Not bad. And then comes track five, better known as "Rat Kiss the Cat on the Naval," or as I like to call it, "The greatest fucking thing I’ve ever heard."

It's Friday night. It's the future. It's time to get wasted. And where do you go to get wasted on a Friday night in the future? That's right, the Star Wars Bar. Remember what it look it looks like? Good, because it still looks like that. And wouldn't you know it, the gangs all here. But it's an entirely different scene. You see, Han and Greedo are at a table again, except this time they're not talking about past dues. Now, they're trying to figure out who's gonna fly the Millennium Falcon across the galaxy with 2,000 lbs of White Willow in the trunk. And Chewbacca, Solo's right hand man, is stuck in a K hole on the bathroom floor. But don't worry about Ol' Ben and Luke. Drunk at the bar off pina coladas again. Served up extra strong by bartender Brian Wilson circa 1969. Not really sure how he got here? With that said, a screech of a thousand tires is heard from outside. So loud in fact, that the band you were just grooving to with butts for heads has left the stage. Why you ask? Because the Sand People just kicked the doors in with equipment for the headliner...the Ganglians are here.