Tag: cfm
In the Red Records’ 25th Anniversary Party: Weekend at Larry’s
Rob Shepyer
July 18, 2016
A quarter century ago, Larry Hardy formed In the Red Records in Los Angeles, California to release garage and punk records for an underground that is thriving now more than ever. Some call this scene the garage rock revival, in which case In the Red Records was the scene’s Lazarus. So with 25 years of releasing music ranging from down tuned stoner rock to twangy blues garage, from bands in Los Angeles to Detroit, Portland and NYC, how does Larry Hardy decide to celebrate? A three night festival taking The Echo and Echoplex hostage to host a slew of bands spanning In the Red’s sonic history. As soon as I crept down those pissed stained stairs from Sunset to Glendale blvd and checked in, it was nonstop rock. Wounded Lion’s party rock launched the festivities and loosened me up for the debauchery to come. Dancing and prancing around the stage, cramming the jams down our throats, I picked up a sweat bouncing and bobbing and dashed out the Echo down to its bottom-bitch Siamese sister venue. A man eyeballed me suspiciously and asked for my papers, so I showed him my Zig Zags. Zig Zags were the first of many
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Inter-Review With Charles Moothart on Eve of CFM Release
Brent Smith
April 8, 2016
CFM – Still Life of Citrus and Slime: An Interview with Charles Moothart “He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.” -Samuel L. Johnson That famed opening axiom is no less true with CFM’s Still Life of Citrus and Slime, in which Charles Moothart goes full wolfman to transmit a bubbly, thick, and no doubt, arresting solo debut. For Moothart—the proper Lennon to Ty Segall’s McCartney—his new LP (In The Red Records) is an analog sigil for some gnarly soul searching. For the rest of us lucky bastards, it’s an incendiary trip of sour neon rock ‘n’ roll that, without it, immediately leaves your record collection wanting. It was more of a vision quest than an attempt to make a rock album. “There was no timetable to worry about,” he told me over the phone. “It was nice to go into a room and shut the door and forget about time and just let it happen as it needed to happen.” Moothart took a piecemeal approach, channeling sounds strung together spontaneously as he jumped from one instrument to the next; any scheming be damned. Though the album was composed as more extemporaneous
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