Parchman Farm

Cover artwork by Doug Avery

Track Listing:

  1. Give it to me
  2. Declaration
  3. Pacific
  4. Night Time
  5. Living in Shame
  6. Curtis Franklin

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Pics

photos by Sean Valley

photo by Danielle Rubi

Parchman Farm

Lost Tapes

The final recordings of one of our local favorite bands.

Tracks 1 and 4 recorded by Josh Schwartz at the Space Shed, Los Angeles, CA 2004-2005. Tracks 2, 3, 5 and 6 recorded by Phil Manley at Lucky Cat Studios, San Francisco, CA.

Mastered at a Different Fur in San Francisco, CA by Patrick Brown.

Bio

Collectively, the four members of Parchman Farm believe in running with the night, shooting first, barfing last, digging in, getting down, staying true, staying alive, slapping fives, and always living in the deep red. They don't believe in miracles, puppetry of the penis, empty film canisters, serial numbers, the story of Christmas and dinosaurs. They believe in violent metaphors. They are adrift, focused, panic-stricken, unwashed, and slightly dazed. They are like a shark riding on top of an elephant, just stomping and chomping everything in sight.

Eric sings. He used to front Mover from San Francisco with an album out on Man's Ruin and a CD out on Mod Lang Records (respectively). Regarding why he left Mover (a band once awarded Album Of The Month by MOJO magazine) to join Parchman Farm, Shea says, "That is none of your goddamn business. And stop using my old band to try and make my new band sound cool."

Allyson is the guitar slinger. With an old and wicked Les Paul as dark as the darkening dark of darkness, she looks and acts like a Jewish version of Ted Nugent, which is why many of her contemporaries have nicknamed her "The Jewge." Allyson brings hard, bluesy, tube-toned leads to the dinner table or any table for that matter that she can bring her tube-toned leads to. Perhaps buffet?

Carson's bass playing will butter your ass. He plays lead bass, but not in an annoying fretless Les Claypool way or in a nu-metal style. He is far too enamored of the revolutionary spirit of the 1960s to give in to contemporary fads of "tone" and "melody" or the bourgeois ideals of "bathing" and "hygene." Carson believes that music has the power to kill and freely admits, "I will someday kill everyone."

Now, drummer Chris grew up listening to white funk drummers too much for his own good, but this is not a bad thing because he is always on acid. He worshipped Grand Funk Railroad drummer Don Brewer to the point of pissing his pants much like the incontinent legend. Wearing "Brewhammer's" influence on his sleeve (and also lower sleeve) was more than almost a prerequisite for joining Parchman Farm, as his bandmates wanted a hard-hitting son of a bitch who didn't identify with Charlie Watts, except perhaps in ugliness.

Together, the members of Parchman Farm birth a satisfying but ugly musical child. In an era where garage music and garages in general have been contemporized to the point of being futuristic, the old school soul seems missing from today's rock and roll bands, except of course for 50 Cent, the 21st century's answer to both Screamin' Jay Hawkins and Screamin' Jackie Robinson. Parchman Farm satiates that special part inside each and every one of us. They are steeped in boiling hot water for a long period of time until the water is flavored. You don't have to, but they suggest that you believe in the power of both the right and the left hand. But wash your hands before you shake the hands of the Parchman Farm people, and wash your hands afterwards because chances are they didn't wash their hands beforehand.

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