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Headache

12" EP released in 1987 on Touch and Go (TGLP20), Blast First (BFFP14)

headache front cover
back cover
cassette front
cassette back

  1. My Disco
  2. Grinder
  3. Ready Men
  4. Pete, King of All Detectives
  5. Heartbeat (cassette only)
  6. Things to do Today (cassette only)
  7. I Can't Believe (cassette only)

The sticker on the front says "WARNING! Not as good as Atomizer, so don't get your hopes up, cheese." True, but three of the four tracks stand the test of time, and Readymen is one of their best songs--period. My Disco is the dud...why on earth did it make the cut in the first place?

The cassette version has Pete, King of all Detectives relabeled "King Dick." It also features miniscule reproductions of all the artwork from the limited Headache booklet. Dig out them magnifying glasses...

All the tracks are available on the Rich Man's Eight Track Tape, so you have no excuse for not listening to this.


reviews:


The warning label states that it's "not as good as Atomizer" and that pretty much sums it up. They still do the best hammering, sludgy rhythms, but it seems like they're not really challenging themselves to come up with something new.
--Dogtowne, MRR 50


Even if the sticker on the 12" claims it's not as hot as "Atomizer" (a true statement) there certainly isn't a lack of creative ideas. Not with tales about a fellow who smashes his newborn baby against the wall of the ward because it was deformed. Or the guy who finds his tools out of place and, using his trusty grinder, teaches the inconsiderate asshole a lesson, set to a disco beat of mind-rot. This is real life stuff, and they still have the distorted, detached wall of noise.

"Heartbeat" is a godawful Wire cover, it works, fick, it even has a hook.

One more note of interest--there's a limited edition package floating around with the 12" and 7" with different covers, coming in a black vinyl bag. The 12" cover will give you nightmares, it's beyond obscene--a morgue shot of someone's head mutilated into something resembling cherry cobler. But, once again, a part of real life.
Suburban Voice 23


liner notes:


people have been asking. i just don't like thinking about it. we thought it would be such a simple thing, like buying a house or getting the practice started, you know, just another phase in our lives. we figured it was time for a family. i'm not getting any younger, you know. neither is he. when i got pregnant, we had no idea there would be any toruble. everything seemed alright, you know, normal. all the way up to the delivery we had no idead it was, so horrible, you understand. we had no idea. well, when we saw it, we know right away it wasn't right. it was so purple and mean looking. not at all like we had pictured. then the doctor told us about the brain. it just wouldn't ever be up to snuff. never be a doctor, that's for sure. hardly human, i would say. hardly. well, i was still out of it, you know i was put under becayse tge pain is supposed to be...i was never good with pain, you know. so i was still out of it when it happened. he was very upset, which you could well imagine, after all that anticipation. nine months he waited to see his child, and then the disappointment. he didn't even have a child, i wouldn't say. but it was still there, ugly and mean and stupid and screaming, with our name on it. so i suppose he had been drinking with one of his doctor friends, and he thought it was just too much. he came into the ward, he's a doctor you know, so they let him right in i guess, and he took the...he took it and he threw it against the floor. i guess it was several times. the nurse said it looked like he was dancing or something, so it was probably more than once, but the lawyer said to say he could only remember once, so that's what we always say. we found the best lawyer. it's costing us a mint, you know, but it's neccessary. for something like this you can't fool around because of the price. he is the best at working the jury. they were crying for him.

i come in one morning and my tools are out. every god damn thing. scattered around like a little kid's toys or something. my fucking tools. it happens every fucking time. somebody just had to. nobody cares about anybody's private things around here. you know how important that is to me? i don't fuck with anybody's shit. no way. i just want to do my job and be left the fuck alone. just had to use my grinder didn't he. just had to. little fuck face. little ass hole. acts like he fucking owns this shit. little ass hole. grind him is what. grind his little fat fuck face. think he'd like that? think twice, wouldn't he? little shitty fuck face ass hole.

it's just a job is all. like moving boxes or sweeping a fucking floor is all. hey, i tell you something. i'm out here six o'clock inna fucking morning waiting in line; fucking bar ain't open. nobody's got scratch or shit to drink. the guy comes out and says, "i need three guys,"--fuck you, i'm going. that's 26 bucks. guy's lucky to work. who cares what it is. you gotta whack some guy on the head, big deal. he's on strike, he oughta know what's what, right? rather stand out here waiting in line all day? fuck you. guy gave us all guns one time. says, "go shake em up." had a fucking party. my room costs eight a day or forty a week. i can eat at chris's maybe two, three bucks. i work four days. sometimes three, sometimes five. i get a little wine, maybe a quart. no fucking worries, mission gives me all the clothes i can carry. what the fuck else am i gonna do, be a fucking doctor? fuck you.

no regular cop has a nose like pete. he can walk into a place, even ten days cold, take one look and say, "hadda be a spic" or "hadda be this one particular guy." fucking king, pete. king of all detectives. his woman took off one time. five days later she was back. found her and the shmoe. don't know what happened to him. didn't ask. probably gave him the spaniard's choice: shoot him in the balls or shoot him in the eye; the shmoe has to pick. smart guy'd choose the eye, 'course in the eye, maybe you have a chance. in the balls who cares. said once no white cop oughta ride with a colored. they won't cover you. chicken shit. just as soon write you off. means nothing to them, it's just a job is all, now alls anybody sees is coloreds. all the new cops. all they hire now is coloreds and women. bet none of them has a fucking nose like pete's. i bet.

recorded either march somethingth 1986 or july somethingth 1986. mixed either july somethingth or august somethingth 1986 either in chicago with iain burgess (nice neighborhood) or in detroit with breck like the shampoo.

SMOKE 'EM IF YOU GOT 'EM

multi-track, man, i just don't recommend it.

field recording of mortar shell july 4 1986, roof of the graystone, detroit, by chris gordon for gnec; during the six-man zeus god of thunder tournament.

ass grab: paul, pat, corey, lisa, sonic pudding, killdozer, (motor)head of david, ironhorse, hecky's bbq, calumet meats, pussy galore, dave cow, bill cow, peter (gus), bryon, minneapolis, muncie, theo van engenburg, jochen "jake" schwarz, the nutty dutch, carlos, tetsuan atomu, my happening one-eyed italian batchelor uncle, laura, cristina, phartography and sexophone by john "black bart" bohnen. poster photography: gail butensky.

big black: post orifice box 442, evanston, illinois 60204 usa. write if you want, but we probably won't have time to write back. think of it as therapy. people still write letters to elvis, after all. elvis the pelvis had a brother named enis, by the way. he was popular at dances. there is a special hell for people who bring babies on airplanes


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