Harry Pussy – A Real New England Fuck Up LP

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Previously unreleased mid-’90s live recordings ofHarry Pussyin peak trio formation, with extensive eye-witness liner notes bySiltbreezelabel-headTom LaxandTom CarterofCharalambides. Edition of 500. “The 1996Shadow Ring/ Harry Pussy / Charalambides ‘Rose Watson’ tour. . . . There were two vans, three bands, two drivers. Tom Lax was at the helm, rationing the booze and blastingKilled By DeathVolume Whatever all through the Midwest. I walked out of a gig in Ypsilanti and tripped on a large dildo. Soundmen held their ears in Cleveland. We rolled out of Rochester (afterAdrisand my bandmateJasonblew an entire soundcheck screaming insults at each other in Spanish) and the…

SKU: AMR292175274
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Previously unreleased mid-’90s live recordings ofHarry Pussyin peak trio formation, with extensive eye-witness liner notes bySiltbreezelabel-headTom LaxandTom CarterofCharalambides. Edition of 500.

“The 1996Shadow Ring/ Harry Pussy / Charalambides ‘Rose Watson’ tour. . . . There were two vans, three bands, two drivers. Tom Lax was at the helm, rationing the booze and blastingKilled By DeathVolume Whatever all through the Midwest. I walked out of a gig in Ypsilanti and tripped on a large dildo. Soundmen held their ears in Cleveland. We rolled out of Rochester (afterAdrisand my bandmateJasonblew an entire soundcheck screaming insults at each other in Spanish) and the soundman stuck his head in the car and yelled ‘don’t ever come back!’Byron Coleybooked a show in Amherst with an audience of zero. Harry Pussy and Shadow Ring played, we didn’t, and everyone was hanging out afterwards in front of the Unitarian Church when the local bus pulled up. Its lone occupant stepped out, looked around, and asked ‘Is this where the Harry Pussy show is?’ The TT’s show, snipped from the end of this tour, was a shambolic near disaster. The fact that a recording survives at all is a minor miracle. We arrived to witness openersthe Cotton Kingsfleeing the venue after eating a bunch of acid, destroying the PA monitors, and swiping Adris’s cymbals, which one tripping, bathrobe-clad member slunk back to return later. . . . Mr. Lax tried to calm me down by feeding me bourbon shots. We played. The PA was shot and we couldn’t hear each other. I hurled my guitar across the stage, poured my beer over my head, and threw a pair of slides into the crowd, narrowly missingWayne Rogers. Harry Pussy took the stage and sandblasted the night into oblivion, while I hid in the van (Mac: ‘What the fuck is your problem?’) until I was sober enough to attempt to find the Greyhound station and catch the first bus back to Houston.Christinaspotted me wandering off and forcibly dragged me back into the club.” –Tom Carter

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