With this post, I am going to share one of the single greatest bits of media subversions I have personally come across. As the bits presented here were originally released on SST Records, I can rip and share these tracks with my moral compass unblemished.
Fuck SST Records.
Negativland is a sound, radio, and electronic ‘music’ collective originally based out of the Bay Area in California. They have produced some mighty influential material since 1979. Strong proponents of Culture Jamming, they’ve gone far out of their way to subvert medias. To the points of being sued by U2, Greg Ginn of the aforementioned SST Records, and Shaggy from Scooby Do.
On their ‘break out’ album, Escape From Noise (SST 133) from 1987, the collective did a piece called ‘Christianity is Stupid‘. It used a rather heavy guitar riff and then sampled atop it a sermon by Estus Pirkle. It was cool. The kids liked it. I liked it.
From my own vinyl collection (w. heavily weighted stylus to remove as many skips as possible…).
Christianity is Stupid
On the success of that album, there were the inevitable calls for the ‘band’ to go on tour. At the time, it wasn’t possible for such a sampler and loops-heavy outfit to realistically hit the road. Off shows, sure… but an actual tour?
One of the collective’s founders, Richard Lyons (whom I deeply admired), devised an escape route. He found a real-life case of a young man who had killed his parents and suggested that Negativland’s Christianity is Stupid could have been a possible motive for the tragedy. The local San Francisco media fell for the bait and ran a comprehensive ‘investigative’ story about the band and its alleged connection to the axe murders.
For their next LP, they cut up this news broadcast and made it a basis for an incredible attack on the media, the radio, and society that resonated strongly with me: Helter Skelter.
No less than respected punk legend Henry Rollins called Flipper, and I am quoting here:
“Blah Blah Look at my tattoos Blah Blah Denis Leary Blah Blah VH1 Blah Blah Heavier Than You!!!!”
And, well… if it is coming from Henry Rollins, you’d be silly not to take it as gospel. He is a spoken word artist and actor, you know. Just like Jello Biafra! And that crazy bag lady down the street who cries drunken soliloquies to her long dead child. But I don’t see her getting her own VH1 show or college spoken word tours, you two-bit carnies.
But I sure loved Flipper. If the bands around them played faster, Flipper slowed it down to a crawl. If the bands around them politicized their inner (and outer) angsty bullshit, Flipper boldly suggested that the Bored (i.e. YOU) were simply Boring. Frankly, they were the most subversive band of the punk era – and possibly beyond.
Today I am sharing my Flipper-esqe 7″ vinyl collection for anyone that may be interested. These singles are long out of print. No harm, no foul.
Love Canal b/w Ha, Ha, Ha (Front) – Subterranean Records (SUB 7)
This here single is one of the most outrageous releases of the American punk era. Sexbomb, in itself, pissed off a lot of the more serious punkers – but Brainwash… Brainwash is special in its Subversion. They take a twenty six second bit and repeat it for over six (6!) minutes. I cannot believe the band had the GALL to release this.
And that’s why I love them so.
Forget it. You wouldn’t understand anyway.
Sex Bomb b/w Brainwash (Back) – Subterranean Records (SUB 23)
Get Away b/w The Old Lady That Swallowed The Fly (Front) – Subterranean Records (SUB 35)
Not too long after I first began purchasing my own music, I stumbled across Rat Music For Rat People, a compilation album of U.S.* punk rock royalty playing live* in San Francisco, California between the years 1981-82*. The title excited newly minted, teenaged me. I had recently read James Herbert’s 1974 novel The Rats. My imagination ran hot at the possibility: Would there be songs about giant rats and their unwilling food sources?
Not as such.
But the band listing was almost as fascinating as the title: Black Flag, Dead Kennedys, Bad Brains, Circle Jerks… haha! A band named Flipper? Neat!D.O.A., Crucifix, TSOL, The Avengers*, and The Dils*.
– Rat Music For Rat People (Front), 1982 – Go! Records #GO 003
It was a risky purchase for this not so privileged thirteen year old of the inner suburbs. Money was tight. Influences even tighter. I had heard of four of the ten bands, but had only actually listened to two of them at that particular point. And it was a live album*. Even then I knew that live albums were never to be trusted.
Unless it was Johnny Cash. You could always trust Johnny Cash.
In the end, I swung the deal on the merits of the Dead Kennedys name. That was sure to irk my father, the hippie vampire.
It ended up a wise purchase – and a sucker buy at the same time. The next four or five compilation purchases I would make were, for one reason or another, flat-out amazing…
– Rat Music For Rat People (Back), 1982 – Go! Records #GO 003
Probably my all-time favorite song ever put to vinyl: Ashtray Heart by Captain Beefheart and the Magic Band. Don Van Vliet dynamites the punks and new wavers for essentially ripping him off – in particular the ‘Man on the Porcupine Fence’, Johnny Rotten.
Fair or not, the man had a point.
And Beefheart’s word play in this one is simply off the charts.
You used me like an ashtray heart
Case of the punks. Right from the start
I feel like a glass shrimp in a pink panty
With a saccharine chaperone
Make invalids out of supermen
Call in a “shrink”
And pick you up in a girdle
You used me like an ashtray heart
Right from the start
Case of the punks
Another day, another way…
Somebody’s had too much to think
Open up another case of the punks
Each pillow is touted like a rock
The mother / father figure
Somebody’s had too much to think
Send your mother home your navel
Case of the punks
New hearts to the dining rooms
Violet heart cake
Dissolve in new cards, boards, throats, underwear
Ashtray heart
You picked me out, brushed me off
Crushed me while I was burning out
Then you picked me out
Like an ashtray heart
Hid behind the curtain
Waited for me to go out
A man on a porcupine fence
Used me for an ashtray heart
Hit me where the lover hangs out
Stood behind the curtain
While they crushed me out
You used me for an ashtray heart
You looked in the window when I went out
You used me like an ashtray heart.
… in shitty WordPress oriented fashion (Part Two).
Celebrating the one year anniversary of my excursion into noise pop (as Bärkər), I asked a former friend of mine to run a sit-down Q&A session with me. I figured that I could maybe shed more light on the motivations and accomplishments of this Bärkər thing, to allow a reversed timeline peek behind the curtain, so to speak.
Unfortunately, that gesture was undone by bad acting.
Yet I am going to continue to humor myself by thinking that the reader might find interest in me covering some releases.
There’s Something You’re Missing – 2024, Mayfly Records
He asked if I wanted to work with him, and I jumped at the chance.
He presented me an instrumental piece that could have been the lead track off any of his albums. The piece was everything one expects from Rucker; low-fi, melodic, and touching. He handed the track off and gave me free rein to do whatever it was I wanted. I am still honored by that.
There’s Something You’re Missing Back Cover
I added a 30 second prelude that I thought was pretty neat. I then put some effects on a straggler track, which bled through the mix to add interesting sounds. Finally, I took a bit from my prelude and processed it to sound ‘harmonium’, then wove it throughout 2/3rds of the piece. The ending instrumental was, well… Ghostly, almost translucent.
The dialogue samples came from an anti-media outfit from the 1980s, these centering on how television (a metaphor for the ilk of today) subjected latchkey children to constant barrages of alcohol ads, sex, and television violence. I thought the finished piece (released October 25, 2024) rather poignant. It sounds different. The listener is taken on a pleasant journey, while still presented an opportunity to think.
I thought it would be a winner.
Live: From the Basement – Kent, Ohio ’24 – 2024, Mayfly Records
Gimmicks, contrary to the connotations associated them (KISS? 🤮), can be powerful tools in the grand cause of Subversion.
Live: From the Basement(released October 8, 2024) is one of my personal favorites. Rather than pussyfooting around, as I had done for some time, I dove headfirst into the tape loop inspired avant-garde with this extended player (EP).
Over a played soundscape, pre-recorded loops were triggered, cut up, and then manipulated/processed live. I greatly missed recording in this fashion. I did so with Linda Sharpe for close to two years and always had fun with it. When done ‘properly’, the improvisational aspect can be creatively rewarding.
There is a bit at the end of Not Completely Like Other People (@4’15”) that basically hypnotized me. I came out of it a couple of minutes later and hastily threw in a sample of Reverend Ernest Angley that I stretched and manipulated to interesting effect on, ‘Do You Believe?‘
I made VERY liberal use of Puremagnetik’s Ember micro collage plug-in when recording this. Ember can do some magical things. In live situations, it can also very easily escape its pen and do some damage to your petunias. You never know.
… in shitty WordPress oriented fashion (Part One).
Celebrating the one year anniversary of my excursion into noise pop, I asked a former friend of mine to run a sit-down Q&A session with me. It was done over Zoom and transcribed by a third party. I figured that I could maybe shed more light on the motivations and accomplishments of this Bärkər thing – allow a peek behind the curtain, so to speak.
Sound interesting? Let’s read on.
Eric Baker (aka Bärkər)
Mayfly Radio – Various Artists – 2025, Mayfly Records
Q: Your latest production is ‘Mayfly Radio Volume One’, released March 5th. How did you manage to convince anyone to work with you on this? I’m counting 14 or 15 independent musicians or personalities on this compilation. Going by your past work, that’s about 14 or 15 more than I’d think possible.
A: I’ve asked myself that question many times throughout the process.
Q: Were I you, I’d keep asking… [pause lasts 7 seconds]… Other than riding on coattails, what did you actually do on ‘Mayfly Radio’?
A: Listen, hold on a minute. Is there something going on here? There are some edges to these questions I wasn’t quite expecting when I asked you to do this.
Q: Coattails it is…
A: Well, actually I compiled and coordinated all of the material, I hammered them into place, I provided background soundscapes to all but one of the spoken word pieces provided me, I engineered the pseudo broadcast, I acted as the disc jockey throughout, and I recorded three originals for the closing segment.
Q: The segment with the least amount of listens. Isn’t that what you were telling me? Now this ‘DJ’ character you portray, Montgomery Van is it? Most radio personalities, or those pretending to be ones, seem to have actual personalities. Why don’t you?
A: Thank you for noticing. I worked rather hard at that. Oftentimes I would record a particular line or bit three or four times, then go back and piece together all of the most awkward deliveries. I wanted the character to come across as stilted and disjointed and socially unable.
Q: So this is autobiographical then.
Q: Moving on… Why?
A: Pardon?
Q: In the context of just about all music available to us, why does your ‘music’ suck?
A: …
Q: Why is your music so stripped down and primitive? I mean, what is this?
Living Ghosts – Bärkər & Subtlety – 2025, Mayfly Records
Q: A synth line with loopy side dressings sung by, in your own words, a ‘voice of an Angel’? Wasn’t this already done by Susan Boyle? You know, I was listening to a radio interview where they/them said not to even bother submitting music to stations or labels unless it/tw’it was perfectly pristine. This is the exact opposite!
A: Exactly.
Q: But… why?
A: Imagine spending the limited time we are allowed to chase the muse endlessly trying to lay down ‘The Perfect Track’, the ‘Perfect Guitar Solo’, the pitch perfected ‘Pristine Vocal’. Now imagine that 90% of your fellow musicians are attempting to do the exact same thing; producing the perfect UNIT Over… and Over… and Over again. Eventually, no matter the genre of music, everything begins to sound the same. THAT is the death of creativity.
Q: …
A: Exactly.
Textures – 2024, Mayfly Records
Q: Your most recent solo release was an EP called ‘Textures’, from this past Christmas Eve. Why does the majority of Bärkər material start off so difficult to listen to? Whether it is an album with the most unnatural openings, or individual songs that spend the first minute or so sounding confused as to where they want to go. Is this a stylized choice, or do you simply not know what you’re doing?
A: I have stated plenty of times that not only am I not a musician, I have inherent distrust towards anyone claiming themselves to be one. In my efforts to sculpt stuff I wish to listen to, I have learned how to bash out notes on a synthesizer or an equivalent, and to program rhythms – but anyone can do that. I consider myself a sound designer; I consider myself an artist (whatever that might mean). To answer the question, I prefer art that challenges. If the listener manages to meet the challenges of my openings, I consider that listener a kindred spirit (whatever that might mean).
Q: So you don’t know what you are doing. Got it.
Subversions – Bärkər & Arwr Neb – 2024, Mayfly Records
Q: You’ve collaborated with four different artists this past year; Feminoise, Subtlety, Ghost of Rucker, and Arwr Neb. Were all of these artists slumming it by working with you, or did you just sell them on snake oil?
A: Um, thanks. This is… I mean, what the fuck? I thought you wanted to do this? You know what? We’ll end this right here. Take care and fuck right off.
Early last summer (2024), I was asked by acclaimed Emo-Gazey pop artist Feminoise to collaborate on a project that would become Dystopian Communications. To this day, I consider that single to be one of my highest of achievements. Her asking me to collaborate was a blessing, as it opened the doors to so much that would follow; other collaborations, a wider exposure, the confidence to continue doing what I’ve been doing, AND the outline for an ambitious project left in its wake.
When seeking inspiration for the lyrics she would pen, Feminoise asked me for a concept. That concept, a lonely and isolated person culture jamming a pirated radio broadcast in effort to communicate with others, would eventually evolve into Mayfly Radio, Volume One.
Thanks, Mel!
I would continue chasing down that idea with ‘A Dystopian Broadcast’, a radio-waved sound collage, off my ‘Don’t Cry Upon Arrival’ EP.
A Dystopian Broadcast
But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go all-in on the concept. What if I actually put a radio program together? Or at least something that could pass for one. What if it was ‘call-in’ based, like the programs I remember listening to as a child? What if I masked a compilation album as a radio drama and vice versa?
Maybe…
Maybe I could convince the talents that I most respect from the independent music scene to contribute songs? Without songs, there could be no pseudo radio program. I was lucky enough to have been provided original pieces by Feminoise, neuroshock, Lost Cause Industry, House of Warwick, and Histheory. I was also granted permission (hand shake licensing? GASP!) to use previously released works by Subtlety (and myself), Arwr Neb, Betrav Kolektiv, Plains Desperate Symphony, Czña, and Ghost of Rucker.
And maybe I could convince some of the best voices of the independent arts scene to record ‘call-ins’ to the station? Without people calling in to cement the central themes, there was no point to any of this. I was very lucky to have received spoken word contributions from Entropy in Motion, Plains Desperate Symphony (3x), GAB, Arcane Synthetic, Subtlety, Deb LaMotta, Lost Cause Industry, Arwr Neb, and Montgomery Van.
Mayfly Radio Volume One (and only) is the result; a one hour, forty four minute broadcast that tells as many stories as the listener is willing to hear. Or willing to bear. Whichever works for you.
Mayfly Radio is the crown jewel of this Bärkər experiment, yet ‘Bärkər’ doesn’t exist anywhere on it. That is not only fitting, but prophetic.
For anyone that might be interested, here is a PDF itinerary for the broadcast (included with purchase on Bandcamp): Mayfly Radio Itinerary
Blawnox, PA – 1982: The old man that we called ‘Lung Player (LP) Louie’ deftly pulled out a well-worn album from one of the many stacks of vinyl slabs littering his two room ‘studio apartment’ (as he called it), and placed it on the turntable. As he sat down with a weathered cough, he tossed the album cover onto my lap and laughed.
“You think that last one was weird, Stevie? Check this one out…”
All That I Am (Front), 1978 – Creative Records MW1001
“I have not said I’m better, and I have not said I’m worse – but I have an idea concerning the universe. The wheelchair general with his head on wrong – or the long haired singer with his wine and song. To say that I love you with a bomb – or to sing that I hate you: that ain’t wrong. I know better than what you give. All I ask is a chance to live; my way or your way it’s all the same. ‘Cause if no one’s hurt, there’s none to blame. No… I’ve not said I’m better, and I’ve not said I’m worse – but I do have an idea concerning the universe. Always in hell, as I’m sure you can tell. I see you are blind, so I’ll take the time… to teach. You must keep in tune just as the moon, which is never too late or never too soon. Here, there, and everywhere you people be real. We must congeal and strip the seal. I’m not saying I’m better and I’m not saying I’m worse – but I have the idea concerning the universe. I really do… now you hear it through.”
– Introuniversal Jam
And so I was introduced to Kit Ream.
All That I Am (Back)
In my previous post on Gary Wilson’s ‘You Think You Really Know Me’, I mentioned a half-hearted comparison to Kit Ream’s ‘All That I Am’ album. It might seem a stretch – considering the different types of subject matter that Wilson and Ream specialized in. However, an underlying sense of paranoia, uneasiness, and individualism unites both.
Don’t Be So Holy Poly Over My Souly
While Wilson’s jazz-based work would veer into the avant-garde with a touch of early electronica, Ream’s work has been described as ‘cocktail-by-the-pool crazy’; a compelling mix of soft jazz and new-age hippy philosophy, spiced by a menacingly stoned lounge singer who may or may not have been heir to the Nabisco Cookie fortune.
And who, after the recording of this album, may or may not have murdered his best friend after experiencing a psychotic break.
Funk
And surely that is the biggest difference between Ream and Wilson: Gary Wilson, I would like to think, doesn’t actually talk to mannequins named Cindy and Linda during his spare time. Sure… he is probably an odd duck – but aren’t we all?
The ‘Gary Wilson’ persona is a gimmick. A good one, mind you – but still a gimmick. Kit Ream? Look at that face on the album cover again and tell me his was a put-on.
All That I Am is far from an Outsider masterpiece.
But if you subscribe to the theory that art must challenge the viewer – or in this case, the listener, then surely Kit Ream’s opus is artistic.
The album that put The Residents on the collective map…
** Side One: Swastikas on Parade
** Side Two: Hitler Was A Vegetarian
Noted psychoanalyst Erik Erikson professed that humans go through eight stages of psychosocial development in their lifetime; the most significant stages, obviously, being the earliest. According to Erikson, all early stages were meant to prepare the human for stage seven: Middle Adulthood (35-55).
When I was near ten years old, my Uncle Larry (AKA: Donald to you) felt it time to introduce a ‘proper music education’ to his sheltered nephew. In his infinite wisdom, the first album he ever played for me was the Residents’ Third Reich ‘n’ Roll. Within minutes, I became so disturbed that I began to cry. His reaction, at least initially, was to turn up the volume and laugh at me.
Being ten years older than myself, I have no doubt that the end result that day was exactly what he intended. Teenagers, after all, have cruel streaks in them. Had he known that his act of sonic terrorism would set me on a bohemian-laced, avant gardening path, he probably would have been twice as pleased with himself.
We all could use an Uncle Larry in our lives.
1974 – Meet the Residents (front)
The Residents mythology is a complex one. The group and their hardcore fans steadfastly maintain a pro wrestling like gimmick of complete anonymity; 50+ years into their careers and people still pretend to debate the Residents’ identities. Whatever. They can try to pull the wool over my eyes, but I’ve never fallen for it.
The Residents were an art collective made up of a group of friends sometime around 1969. These friends, primarily consisting of Homer Flynn, Hardy Fox, Jay Clem, and John Kennedy, were acid drenched fans of the avant-garde. And Captain Beefheart. And Sun Ra. And Harry Partch. And all of the true psychedelics of the world.
The Grateful Dead? Pfft. They, like just about every big name psychedelic band you can think of, tiptoed around the avant-garde, pussyfooted the ‘Out There, Man’ act, then became a county and western band to a bunch of Dead Heads.
Through sheer creativity and gumption, this art collective would end up producing some of the more powerful, interesting, and subversive material of the 1970s. Not bad for a bunch of hicks that couldn’t even play their instruments when they began recording in 1970.
After being largely ignored by the music press, 1976’s ‘The Third Reich ‘n’ Roll’ album and the companion cover of the Stones’ ‘Satisfaction’ single released that same year would make a splash. For a year or two, the ‘band’ (though they never really were a band) became darlings of the hipster press; right up through 1979’s Eskimo album, the Residents could do no wrong.
In 1982, the ‘art collective’ officially became a duo. After a severe financial crisis brought about by the ill-fated Mole Show tour, Clem and Kennedy abandoned the Residents to Flynn (the singer, lyricist, and principle visual designer), Fox (the composer), and anyone that would collaborate with them.
Despite the fact that sparks of genius have been produced ever since, many early fans will suggest that the Residents began to parody themselves the minute Clem left. While the mythology and respect for them runs deep, I am not one to argue that particular sentiment.
Ladies and Gentlemen… Gary Wilson & The Blind Dates!
.
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A Band so bizarre, they flustered the CBGB punks to the point of confusion and disgust. The same crowd that grew to love Stiv Bators.
Imagine that.
You Think You Really Know Me (Front) 1977 – MCM
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Gary Wilson’s main claim to fame, recording-wise, ‘You Think You Really Know Me‘ is one of the more disturbing (and interesting) albums I have had the pleasure of listening to. And that is saying something, considering some of the ‘outsider’ acts in my library; The Shaggs, Luie Luie, Kit Ream, and The Monkees – just to name a few.
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“Sick Trips take the place of someone else’s Blind Dates…”
– When You Walk into My Dreams
You Think You Really Know Me (Back) – 1977, MCM
Released in 1977, the best I can describe the music on You Think You Really Know Me would be ‘Stalker Rock’ – a bizarre mix of lounge lizard bleatings, 70s porn soundtracks, avant-garde angst and Steely Dan funk.
In other words, an Americanized French Song era Davy Jones.
… If Davy never got the girl.
… And then sat in his parent’s basement for the next twenty years action-figuring a way to get her back.
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6.4 = Make Out
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Frankly, there just isn’t anything else quite like ‘You Think You Really Know Me’. At least nothing I have ever heard before. Heck, a great majority of Wilson’s later work doesn’t even come close.
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I took her to the dance last Friday night.
I said, ‘Just wait there. I’ll be right back.’
She said, ‘Gary… that sounds fine.’
When I came back, I told her I fell in love with her.
She said, ‘Gary, falling in love ain’t too cool.’
– Groovy Girls Make Love at the Beach
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I Wanna Lose Control
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The closest comparison I could make would be Kit Ream’s ‘All That I Am’ – although I would be hard pressed to define the exact similarities between the two albums. ‘They both kind of creep me out’ will have to do.
Sure… not many bands sound like The Shaggs, either.
