Private Leisure Industries

After a significant period of non-activity, Murfreesboro's mysterious Trophy Wife makes their long awaited return with their second record, the "Stella, My Star" single. Containing two more of their bizarre/brilliant minimalist ghost-pop story songs, this one is sure to please, although anyone expecting a repeat of their first, self-titled, EP is in for quite the shock... Stripped down to a three piece, yet determined to expand the boundaries of their sound, this slab finds the ladies treading into the unfamiliar territories of pseudo-sludge rock and dream/nightmare pop. The former track, and A-side, "Stella, My Star", is full of rumbling bass, primal thump, and guitar overdrive bringing to mind a more subversive version of mid-period Babes in Toyland without all the awful shouting. The latter track, and B-side, "Frankie's Song", combines a beautiful synth melody with ominous bass undertones and an unsettling tale of childhood love gone wrong.

Certain to thrill fans of the first EP as well as make new converts in the process, this record presents a band growing and actively attempting to reach beyond the expectations placed upon them after their loved/hated first release; in other words: another amazing record by our favorite band in the world. Not to be missed.

PLI-5 (7" EP)

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Let’s face it: the first decade of the 21st century has not done much to strengthen the rapidly crumbling legacy of rock music. Jaded critics praised mediocre crap as genius, naïve youngsters dug on cock rock re-packaged in goth make-up, and mainstream rock reached a point so bad, even your parents started to take notice. In the underground, weirdos and decontructionists reigned supreme, frequently much to the chagrin of tired punkers and traditionalists. That’s not to say it was all bad, but I doubt seriously that too many folks would disagree with the assertion that the last ten years have been, by far, the worst in the genre’s sixty or so years of existence.

Now, I can’t stand it when self-important ‘journalists’, usually in way out-of-touch corporate magazines, claim that a particular band are the new saviors of rock-n-roll; so don’t worry, that’s not where I’m going here. But I will say that it has become more and more difficult for yours truly to a get excited about bands operating within the more conventional paradigm of rock music, and that for a rock band to really impress me these days, they’d better be pretty damn interesting. Furthermore, since it happens somewhat rarely, when I do discover new rock bands that that I like, I tend to get more than just a little excited. So that’s why then, when I heard and was blown away by Atlanta four piece the Buffalo Bangers, no doubt a rock band in every sense of the term, I knew immediately that I wanted to release their music.

So what is it then, you’re probably wondering, that makes this band so special? Well, for starters, they have something that most rock bands these days couldn’t conjure if their lives depended on it, and that my friends, is soul. In fact they’re oozing with it: every riff, every note, every word, performed with a clear level of passion and dedication that is highly uncommon these days in the world of rock. Describing their actual sound without throwing around a bunch of over-used genre buzz words and vague descriptors is difficult, but imagining a collision between Link Wray, Samhain, and the B-52’s might get you part of the way there. And, while it’s quite safe to assume that the Buffalo Bangers aren’t here to save rock n’ roll, it is quite possible that they are one of the few bands left that are actively managing to fend off the genre’s impending death throes for just a little bit longer.

PLI-4 (7" EP)

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For the last decade, Johnson City, TN based multi-media artist Bryan Lewis Saunders (most recently lauded for his drug influenced self portrait series), has been consistently churning out some of the most grueling and disturbing spoken word prose ever created. Though he frequently shares bills with bands, his performance pieces are certainly not 'musical' in any traditional sense of the word. He calls what he does "Stand-Up Tragedy"; to call that description 'very fucking apt' is a bit of an understatement.

You will most definitely know exactly what you're getting into almost immediately after putting the needle down on this one…and let me tell you, it's not fun. That's because Bryan Lewis Saunders has no interest in entertaining you. His objective rather is to tap into the dark side of human experience, though he doesn't attempt to do this in any kind of absurd or cartoony way like what you might expect from a death metal band or power electronics band with cheesy 'horror' lyrics about gore or murder or rape or whatever. No, what really separates Bryan's work from those dweebs is that he doesn't write for shock value; he is concerned instead with legitimately exploring more common forms of tragic human experience and feelings of pain and misery which are universal within humanity: depression, loss, loneliness, self-hatred, fear, paranoia, sadness, humiliation, anger, etc. The fact that literally everyone in the world has at some point during their lifetime felt all of those feelings makes Bryan's prose surprisingly relatable and sometimes even moving, despite its always highly unsettling nature.

As you may have guessed, this particular collection finds Mr. Saunders waxing awful on the subject of bed bugs (both literal and metaphorical), and if you aren't itchy just thinking about it, you will be soon enough. This is his second vinyl release (the 'Near Death Experience' LP was released last year by French label Erratum), and his first release to incorporate elements of both his earlier 'spoken-rant' style and his more recent 'dream diary' recordings. Featuring disorienting sound accompaniment by frequent collaborators Christopher Fleeger and Kaontrol Kontraos and amazing hand drawn artwork by longtime friend Daniel Dugger, this record, much like the artist who created it, is a true anomaly. You have been warned.

PLI-3 (12" LP)

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It has often been observed that many particularly idiosyncratic musical styles, some associated with particular artists, others with broader movements owe a large debt to the literal physicality of their immediate surroundings. For example: would the Beach Boys have sounded nearly as bright without the sunny beaches of southern California to inspire them? Would the proprietors of the world's most heinous black metal sound nearly as cold without the solace of dark, snowy forests? Could the atavistic mechanical beats of Detroit techno have existed without the ruins of the auto industry ever present? Well, anything is possible, but coincidence or not, the fact that these sounds seem to literally embody the physical spaces most closely familiar to the artists creating them is challenged by few.

In similar fashion, Murfreesboro's Trophy Wife have managed to forge their own brand of dark pop music seemingly inspired by the haunting specter of the many Civil War era cemeteries and battlefields surrounding them. Taking musical cues from influences such as the Ronette's, the Birthday Party, and female country singers of the 1930's and 1940's, the band employs a foundation of beautiful multi-part harmonies backed by rotating, disparate instrumental arrangements made up of woozy guitars and synths, drums, violin, musical saw, clarinet, bells, flute, and more. The final amalgamation creates a vibe which is mellow and steadily ominous while at the same time maintains a sense of playful poppiness. Lyrics range from horrifying narrations of fever nightmares to tongue in cheek jabs at those who would rather fuck their instruments than play them.

In addition to simply being the debut release by an incredible band, this record also serves as a literal and physical document of the culmination of over a year of writing and performing by four southern women all long involved in non-musician roles in their local music community coming together to create on their own terms. A truly original and striking band, Trophy Wife is not for the weak of will or faint of heart; however, for those seeking a healthy dose of ghost pop terror, this record will fit perfectly.

PLI-2 (7" EP)

Light Socket mp3

Named after a particular DIY house’s proximity to a Civil War era cemetery, this record is your opportunity to peek into and feverishly pour over a small towns most turgid and bizarre musical transmissions. The story is a familiar one: spawned from frustration and boredom with a city full of bad college bars and worse college music (Murfreesboro houses the nation’s most reputable recording industry management education program leading to a mass proliferation of such things) a group of young students and artists began to host shows in their homes for local and touring bands that the bars wouldn’t book. Over the following years, the scene thrived and died out multiple times, as these things tend to do. However, when the smoke cleared, those who hadn’t yet fled to some more artistically vibrant and nurturing locale, realized that despite themselves they had actually accomplished something. A lot of shit, actually. And one of them even thought it was worth documenting. Hence this record.

The range of grotesque and unchecked manifestations is broad, encompassing sounds from amazing regional bands you will likely never hear again such as the sparse anti-balladry of Shit Enigma, the woozy existentialist trance of Diet of Worms and Young Wife, and the synth-driven power electronics of Witch Detectives; sounds from crappy regional bands you will likely never hear again including the shit-jangle of Party Cop, the rubber band-core of Bitches, and the unleashed psychotic stupidity of Bumblebeast; sounds from regional bands that you will likely hear again like Meth Dad’s obscenely fantastic club jammer , Terrorish’s obscenely ugly club jammer, Lazer Slut’s droney labyrinth of bad vibes, and the Most Amazing Century of Science’s refined surf-grind; as well as even more sounds (!) from a handful of touring bands that frequented our neck of the woods and could very well likely be playing in your small town next week including the beat-driven modern HxC of Realicide, the angelic yet paint peeling burn of Social Junk, the mindfuck electronic wizardry of Mincemeat or Tenspeed, and the beautiful/harsh psychedelia of Yellow Crystal Star. And that’s only about half the bands on the album!

Fueled by an intense DIY ethic and spirit and intended in the tradition of classic regional and community based comps released by labels such as Sub Pop, Kill Rock Stars, Time Lag, and about a bazillion HxC labels, as well as more recent luminaries such as Cephia’s Treat and Not Not Fun, this record, like many of those, is 27 tracks of twisted beautiful music that didn’t matter at the time to anyone who wasn’t there, but meant the world to everyone else.
PLI-1 Edition of 463 / First 104 on white vinyl (LPx2)

2min sampler

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