Content warning for injury. Below are two variants of a symbol for "sublux"/"subluxation".
Sublux (variant 1): two bones at an odd angle to one another with a red arrow pointing from where the bone on the top was to where it is now.
Sublux (variant 2): a pair of bones making a ball-and-socket joint, the ball joint is slightly out of place and a red arrow points from where the ball joint was to where it is now.
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A dog days entry in the Dust series fights summer inertia withâwhat else?âmusic. Scrappy punk, iridescent guitar & vox, MIDI reveries and free jazz exaltations battle for our wayward attentions this time out, as the scent of grilling burgers mingles with pollen, humidity and other pleasures. Jennifer Kelly, Bill Meyer, Tim Clarke, Ian Mathers, Jonathan Shaw and Andrew Forell contributed.Â
Blowers â Blowmania (Chaputa)
Jay Reatard has been gone for a decade and a half now, but his spirit lives on in this bludgeoning but tuneful onslaught from Naarm-based Blowers. Blowmania is the foursomeâs third full-length, but letâs not look for maturity. The Blowers celebrate hedonism (âCigs, Beer and Wine,â âFried Again,â âMushroomsâ) with brio, but the consequences (âTonyâs in Hospital Againâ) also sound kind of fun. Even the downer songs like âWasted on My Ownâ and âEveryone in the Room Hates Meâ are undeniable bops, crashing through the speakers on scrubby guitars, tumultuous drumming and sing-song-y, ear-wormy melodies. Nothing complicated here, but super enjoyable.
In a catalog as deep as guitarist Loren Connors, itâs not hard for a record to transition from looming statement to lost in the weeds. Crucible first emerged as a CD on his Black Label in 1996, at which time Connors was testing the limits of fuzz and density. What made it remarkable was a formal construct; in addition to 11 compact instrumentals, it contained three a cappella performances by Connorsâ wife, Suzanne Langille. The placement of their music side by side, but never touching, creates a sense of dialogue under duress that is not quite like anything else in their shared catalog. Since the album is not quite 27 minutes long, the reissuers have chosen to cut it as a 45 rpm release. That choice, plus Taylor Deupreeâs typically sensitive remastering, lifts a veil of four track murk that makes this return especially welcome.
Bill Meyer
Liz Durette â Well Up (Feeding Tube)
Liz Durette is a MIDI keyboard player whose previously work has elicited respect and bemusement in equal measures but not a lot of love in these parts. While her command of multiple voices on the fly is undeniable, sheâs tilted a little too close to calliope voices for comfort. But Well Up shows another side of her work, and itâs a highly welcome change of pace. Perhaps due to having moved from Baltimore to Massachusetts, thereâs a more unhurried pace and a willingness to let her sounds evolve rather than flicker and flare. âHeartâ could be synthetic recreation of a Scottish piperâs lament, and âLakeâ feels like a folk dance saved for that moment when the guests are gone and the cleaning crew, having mopped up the mess, starts in on the abandoned cups of booze. The side-long âNagaâ goes deeper and slower, like a one-woman distillation of David Bowieâs eastern flirtations on Low.
Bill Meyer
Marty Ehrlich Trio Exaltation â This Time (Sunnyside)
With a name like Exaltation Trio, you know that esteem is on the agenda. Marty Ehrlichâs Trio Exaltation celebrates departed musicians who canât be appreciated enough, such as pianist (and former employer of everyone in the band) Andrew Hill, who is covered twice in the first three tunes, and fellow alto saxophonist Arthur Blythe, who gets a tune named after him. They also give a shout-out to dancer Joanne Robinson Hill, who was Andrewâs spouse, but also a collaborator with several of Ehrlichâs NYC associates back in the 1980s. The musicâs up to the task. Ehrlich, bassist John HĂŠbert, and drummer Nasheet Waits channel their shared musical acumen and rapport into tunes sharp enough to snag your ear and open-ended enough for the players to launch into the updrafts, fly a few circuits around the mountain of abstract co-creativity and come in for a perfect three-point landing.
Bill Meyer
Gwenno â Utopia (Heavenly)
Gwennoâs last two albums, Le Kov (2018) and Tresor (2022), were excellent. In my Dusted review I described the latter as âa colorful, evocative dream-pop record.â From a musical perspective, not much has changed on Utopia: the arrangements are rich, crisp, and vivid. However, most of the songs are sung in English rather than Gwennoâs usual Welsh or Cornish, which takes away the mystery and ambiguity that makes many of her songs so beguiling. While opener âLondon 1757â feels like a throughline from her previous records, âDancing on Volcanoesâ introduces a chiming Johnny Marr-esque guitar riff, the title track evolves into a pulsing dance tune during its back half, and âY Gathâ has a camp Eurovision-style flavor to its chorus. Gwenno is still able to conjure some undeniable magic, especially on âLondon 1757â and âHireth,â but what Utopia gains in upbeat accessibility, it sacrifices in hauntological atmosphere.
Tim Clarke
Hekla â Turnar (Phantom Limb)
It is fairly straightforward to describe the facts about Turnar , Hekla MagnĂşsdĂłttirâs third LP released under her first name. She plays theremin and cello and adds voice, and KristjĂĄn Hrannar adds church organ. It was partly recorded in a French castle that gives it its name. Playing it lasts just under 40 minutes. None of this really even scratches the visceral experience of listening to her music (particularly at night, particularly on headphones). One suddenly feels trapped in some lightless, cavernous, abyssal space, unable to see the walls but terrifyingly aware of a sense of presence, looming and vast somewhere above. Every so often there is a sense of gradual movement, and the constant dread either mounts or subsides. Something is moving; is it coming closer? Hope it doesnât draw near enough for visibility, let alone anything else. A must listen for anyone convinced there is more to the theremin than the science-fiction-soundtrack stereotypes.
Ian Mathers
Mortual â Altar of Brutality (Nuclear Winter)
Mortual, we are told, is a variety of portmanteau word, combining âmortuaryâ with âritual.â Thatâs pretty good, and it might be the most original thing about this Costa Rican death metal band. Certainly, the rest of the symbols and semiotics associated with Altar of Brutality are about as stubbornly, stoopidly true (trve?) to OSDM as you can get; check out song titles like âDivine Monstrosity,â âEcstasy of Deathâ or âDominion of Eternal Blasphemy.â But sometimes this sort of ferociously thumping, revoltingly gurgling and chunking riffage is precisely whatâs needed, to make the ongoing disgust of contemporary life marginally more tolerable â and in a subgenre of music so stubbornly dedicated to rot and festering organic matter, one can argue that freshness has never really been the point. âNecromancy Ritualâ scratches a very particular itch, located deep in a tangle of malodorous viscera. Whose gut is that? When itâs steaming in a pile on the floor, does it matter?
Jonathan Shaw
Mourning (A) BLKstar â Flowers for the Living (Don Giovanni)
Cleveland collective Mourning (A) BLKstar pays tribute to forebears and calls for collective consciousness and action on their latest album. An often somber reflection on the Black experience punctuated with joyous outbursts of funk and soul, Flowers for the Living, finds the band exploring a range of late 1960s styles. The gospel influenced title track is built on a thrumming Hammond and the vocal interplay of LaToya Kent and James Longs garlanded by Theresa Mayâs expressive trumpet which provides melodic and emotional counterpoint throughout the album. FatBoi Sharif makes a telling contribution to âLet âEm Eat,â interrupting the slow rhythmic build and smooth vocals, with a slurry rap over clanking chain gang beat and chant. The highlight âLilâ Bobbie Hutton,â named for the 16-year Black Panther activist shot dead whilst surrendering to Oakland police in 1968, is an impassioned call to speak out against state violence set to a storming funk reminiscent of Bobby Womack and Sly Stone. A song for summer 2025 and a timely reminder that it was ever so. The mourning goes on but M(A)B are looking forward as well as reclaiming history.
Andrew Forell
Noise Trail Immersion â Tutta La Morte in un Solo Punto (I, Voidhanger)
Italian band Noise Trail Immersion creates an angular, rhythmically acrobatic variety of black metal that moves aggressively toward the avant-garde extreme of that subgenreâs sonic continuum. The musicâs distortions are mind bending, but not so much in a psychedelic fashion â more so, itâs the sort of disorientation one might experience in fever, or in the psychological desperation accompanying intense physical pain. The songsâ arrangements are artfully challenging, but their textures are still muscular and pulverizing. Songs like âSpire di Sangueâ and âFinzioneâ will hammer your frontal lobes flat, then spread the moist, pancaked tissue across a plane that twists and folds in on itself. Ouch. The performance skews toward abstraction, but the music is immediate, a sort of physical force. Something is made manifest. As vocalist Fabio Rapetti hollers near the close of âFinzione,â âLâinferno è un enigma giĂ svelato.â The rise of fascism in the US and its reinvigoration in Italy make that sentiment feel even more urgent.
Jonathan Shaw
Nathan OâFlynn Pruitt â Songs from Behind a Mountain (Figure & Ground)
Nathan OâFlynn Pruitt moved from Chicago experimental underground to rural California a few years ago and learned to sing again. His first solo album, Songs from Behind a Mountain, overlays nimble Takoma-style picking with a hoarse and haunted voice. Itâs Jack Rose in the fingers, and Wes Tirey on the mic. âYears Per Minuteâ flares with hard-strummed but lyrical guitar sound, a folk blues stirred up to a froth, while Pruitt floats tremulous, tortured lyrical fragments over the tumult. âYouâve seen it all, beâŚcome small,â he whispers, a signal sent up amidst instrumental agitation, a prayer in the flutter and drone. Pruitt goes to just guitar in long vision-questing âGuidance,â showcasing instrumental prowess and command of wordless mood; if youâre a fan of Imagination Anthem et. all, you might like this one best. However, âRearview,â which follows, slips quiet anguish into its flowery arbors of sound, the human voice grounding all we can experience and imagine. Â
Jennifer Kelly
The Sleep of Reason Produces MonstersâThe Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters (Corbett Vs. Dempsey)
Look at the personnel â Mette Rasmussen on alto sax, Lukas Koenig on drums, Gabriele Mitelli on piccolo trumpet and electronics, Mariam Rezaei on turntables â and youâll reasonably suppose that improvisation is involved. Youâd be right, but that still would not prepare your for this albumâs nine determinedly messy assaults. Bolts of sizzling electricity lance hunks of ragged rhythm, test tones tip over a bowl of microphone bumps, zig-zagging synth lines stumble uncaringly over open-throated screams. When a sustained blast-beat or a harmonious horn chorale surfaces out of the turmoil, itâs a bit of a shock. Live, these folks are witheringly loud. If you want to find the music inside the noise (or hear them at all if you live in one of the worldâs semi-closed empires), this recordâs just the thing.
Bill Meyer
Smut â Tomorrow Comes Crashing (Bayonet)
Smutâs latest album Tomorrow Comes Crashing makes some hearty noise but leaves little debris in its wake. Founding trio Tay Roebuck, Andie Min and Sam Ruschman are joined by a new drummer Aidan OâConnor and bassist John Steiner. The quintet takes their template from the angsty authenticity chasing cadre of 1990s arena adjacent indie bands. Roebuck is an undoubtedly charismatic vocalist, and the band has a ball revisiting the formative sounds of their youth. But Smut hews too close to the cathartic loud quiet template and rarely relaxes into a groove. At their best on âBurn Like Violetâ the band plays loose and almost catches the ragged glory of The Replacements, but too often Tomorrow Comes Crashing feels exhaustingly bombastic.
Andrew Forell
Sublux â Disorder in the Machinery (Disforia)
Subluxâs Disorder in the Machinery is an exciting punk tape from a band with a sort of built-in litmus test: the singing of vocalist Linsey, which is pitched somewhere between a keening holler and an outright shriek. For comparison you might summon elements of Eve Libertineâs brilliant turn on âShaved Womenâ or the most desperate squeaks Ari Up issues on that first Slits record. Those are heavy references, but Linsey and the rest of Sublux warrant them. The compelling anarcho-punk of songs like âHuntingâ and âPendulumâ is layered with harmonics; you have to listen closely for Lulaâs synths, but they are inevitably doing something fairly interesting. So are the lyrics: on âBurn the Witch,â Linsey yells, âA novice executioner is just as deadly!â Yikes. Even better, on âFlooded,â she asks, âWhose skin was I wearing when I thought I knew myself?â Is there a better way to articulate the kind of reflective insight that punk can foster?
Jonathan Shaw
Uniflora â More Gums Than Teeth (Charm Co-Op / Shuga)
While fellow young Chicagoans Lifeguard bristle with explosive post-punk energy, Uniflora are much more subdued, slightly awkward yet deeply charming, mustering the kind of first-thought, best-thought songwriting that brings to mind dorky, funky bands such as Talking Heads and They Might Be Giants, and, at times, the mighty Deerhoof. Quinn Duganâs guitar, Theo Williamsâ bass, and Ruby OâBrienâs drums tessellate in surprising ways, Duganâs vocals are deliciously deadpan, and the band throws in some instrumental experiments along the way, such as âCosmic Soundâ and âTypewriter.â Standout âElongated Cat Fistâ takes the main riff on distorted guitar, detours into an accelerating tangle of clean guitars, then adds a second section of the main riff with clean guitars to finish. And why not? Itâs good to hear a group of friends having fun, trusting their instincts, and making music thatâs unselfconscious and playful.
Tim Clarke
Chad VanGaalen â Full Moon Bummer: First Night of Summer (self-released)
Chad VanGaalenâs last release on Sub Pop / Flemish Eye was 2021âs Worldâs Most Stressed Out Gardener, an eclectic, questing collection that reflected its pandemic-era gestation. Since then, VanGaalen has been releasing music at a consistent clip on Bandcamp and withdrawn his catalog from Spotify. Fittingly, on this new albumâs âHeavy Metal Violence,â a convulsive garage-rocker, VanGaalen screams, âMurder of the internet! Yeah we have to snap its neck!â On the following song, an instrumental called âBaby Puke,â he channels the clanging, dissonant guitar leads of Trout Mask Replica-era Magic Band. Itâs certainly the heaviest weâve heard VanGaalen in a while, but not at the expense of tunefulness. Opener âLet Love Inâ has one of the catchiest riffs VanGaalen has laid to tape, and the woozy synths of âAnts in a Lineâ could soundtrack an episode of his trippy animated short âThrift Drifters.â While this release is only eight songs and 24 minutes â and isnât quite as wonderful as last yearâs Full Moon Bummer 2 â itâs still an addictive listen. Fingers crossed VanGaalenâs next âofficial,â widely publicized release is coming soon.
*takes muscle relaxers and pain medicine for subluxation*
Me: im not in pain and I can move around a bit. I was being dramatic and should have gone to work! Probably shouldn't have scheduled that doctor's appointment.
*medication wears off*
Me: I'm in so much pain. Do I need to go to the ER? Am I going to get any sleep tonight? I feel like I can't move. Help.
hypermobility problems. my bf carried 4 full binliners down 4 flights of stairs and down the driveway to the bins. I carried 3 empty cardboard boxes and a bag filled with empty bags and almost subluxed my wrist.
In other news, itâs day 4 of my jaw being stuck. Itâs a little better than it was on Saturday--I can open it about halfway now. I went to the oral surgeon who was shocked that I donât have a nightguard (what? other peopleâs TMJs donât sublux every single night?) and started talking about how UPenn has prosthetic TMJs available. *nervous laugh* *tries not to think about the 10-hour jaw surgery my sister had to have*
So for now weâre doing a week of valium, steroid, and ibuprofen. He thinks itâs hopefully just angry and that if we can get it to calm down itâll behave. But apparently Iâm getting a nightguard and consulting at UPenn anyway because he thinks all these years of nightly subluxations have done serious damage and who knows what the arthritis is up to in there.
I didnât need this right now? Honestly it was probably the stress over the cancer thing that probably got me in this situation to begin with. Thanks, endo.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Just wondering how your knee is doing. I know healing can be super slow, but I certainly hope you're doing well.
Thanks for checking in! I was actually just about to write/post an update this morning. My knee has been hella unstable since last weekâs subluxation injury. This week has also been incredibly intense. On Tuesday morning, I flew to Seattle to go to a concert with my best friend. I flew back early yesterday and drove from the airport straight to work.
There was SO MUCH walking (from my parked car to the terminal, from my gate at Seattle to the light rail, from the train station to my friendâs apartment, and then all that in reverse on my way to work on Wednesday) and my knee keeps slipping and sliding around. The concert was seated, but we did walk from my friendâs apartment to the theatre, so that was⌠a lot.
Iâm going to ANOTHER concert tonight, so I donât know how Iâm going to survive that, but my sister called the venue yesterday and itâs apparently very accessible and accommodating, so thatâs good! Itâs more bar/club-like, but they said they have seats on the side with good visibility of the stage and that they could reserve some for us, so I feel a bit better about that.
Luckily I have zero plans this weekend other than staying in bed and letting the boyfriend cook for me, so Iâve got lots of recovery time ahead. Thank you again for asking!!