Thursday, May 15, 2008

Dave Phillips' Lausanne Pix...

Captions suppressed by papal edict... TLASILA: Andrew "Gaybomb" Barranca, Balazs "666 Cent" Pandi, and Charles Thomas Smith. Images courtesy Dave Phillips (OHNE, Schimpfluch Gruppe, Fear of God, Dead Peni, S Club 7, etc.), with thanks.











Lyon to Lausanne > Cinéma Oblò: Pix

(Captions to follow...)























Astride the Articulated Grind...

Between compartments, aboard the train to Lausanne...

Oblòng Appurtenance...

(Amended 10 June 08.)

Garrulous crews on nearby scaffolding bellow instructions, then drown themselves out with blasts of compressor noise. It is a delight to have returned to tranquil, neutral Switzerland... I lay entangled in blankets in a spare room in the flat of our co-host Ricardo; the work below roused me from slumber far too early for my own good, but as Balazs is absent, it appears that I also disturbed his rest with blastbeat snores. Reciprocity has its shortcomings...

A massive delight to see Dave Phillips in the house last night! We jabbed and flailed for a few hours, catching up on recent, parallel developments and discussing the forthcoming OHNE album (as yet unrecorded) and proposed North American tour. (We'll get to it eventually.)



(Mr. Phillips shows off his good side...)

Dave joined Balazs, Gaybomb and me for an après-gig plate of vegan pasta while Fred.L'Epee, an ardent, utterly drunk TLASILA enthusiast and local video director, shot sequences for bonus, behind-the-scenes effluvia he apparently intends to include in a Swiss-only DVD release of last evening's recital.

Here's how the interview went:

Fred (slurred to the point of incomprehensibility): What do you theenk (long pause) of underground myuschik?

TLASILA: We don't think of it.

Fred: OK OK OK. Nixt queshton. What do you (hiccup) theeeenk of unnergrowwn musik?

Gaybomb: I think of Balazs, then I think of Tom.

Fred: OK. OK. I start again. Wha do you thint of underground msshick?

Dave: Bloody hell...

TLASILA: (laughter)

Fred: (laughter) OK. Good. OK. Nex. You tint commershulll bans pussi-weeped?

TLASILA/dp: Wha?

And on it went, spooling into irrecoverable, irredeemable drool.

Still, far better being interviewed by Fred than that foul Simon Reynolds cunt...

--

Now, Gaybomb and Balazs laze happily, noses pressed against laptop displays...



DP is dropping by for lunch soon, so I'd better be dipping my toes in the beef tallow.

(Below, Dave and Ricardo make short work of the roquette...)





---

Today is laundry day! The lichen growing on my jeans are forming a collective gridwork of anxiety...

Bits of plaster tumble through the open window from the scaffolds above,

TS

Just Trying to Keep My Head Together, Man...

Drying out and winding down after another convulsive gig, this time at Cinéma Oblò in Lausanne. My head is an infinite plateau of trip-hammers, and I have grown quite fond of the 3 Euro Paracetamol script I scored in Valencia. Coughing yields headaches which trigger tectonic plate deformations. The "grip" is the Dennis Miller of respiratory maladies - unfunny as fuck, but too entrenched within whorls of septic banality to allow itself to be expunged from the system. Tired of having six broadaxes lodged in my skull....

More in the AM,

TS