First in the electronica series
Now available on download from BandCamp with 3 bonus tracks.

MUTANT SOUNDS COOLNESS ALERT! TOM FAZZINI-NECK TO NECK, Monday, October 26, 2009:

'The nature of my posts here generally follow a pre-set pattern, but I'm gonna depart here to celebrate a current release, as it's one of the big daddies of outwardly bound fuckery that I'd intended to ultimately share here, only the fine folks at Locust Music got there first and gave this glorious thing a proper reissue. Since that's the case, and since it's an album that I've been flying a private flag for over the years, I'd just like to take a moment to highlight what a demented lost gem this is and to offer a few tracks to you to hear and come to your own conclusions about, as this seems like the sorta release that could fly under lots of folks' radar if they weren't hepped into existence. Originally issued in 1984 on the short lived cult label A-Mission (responsible for releases by Metgumbnerbone, Asmus Tietchens and O Yuki Conjugate among others), this left field treasure chest opens to unveil a uniquely human and fried (and sometimes hilariously limp and dejected sounding) form of mutated synth pop that mates the smurfy insularity of NWW-listers Bomis Pendin to the quease atmospheres and jerry rigged electronic structures of the Storm Bugs and the primitive synthetics and campily declamatory spieling of Todd Clark or Ian Macfarlane to Frankie Teardrop-like Suicide-al psychodramatics. Only happier. Some 12 years on from here , messr.Fazzini would reemerge as one third of Leaf label recording artists A Small Good Thing and latterly, as simply Fazzini for Chicago's locust Music, who've now taken upon themselves to gift the world with this much earlier screwiness of his. '



http://cows are just food.wordpress/2009/12/08/tom-fazzini-neck-to-neck-locust/ :

instead of doing spoken word with arch ny hipsters sonic youth, this is the kind of shit william.s. burroughs should have been doing voice-overs for, for many reasons. it has that jump-cut, chopped up, collaged quality that the best of burroughs unlinear destroyed narratives had, it shares a cold, dissociative vibe, despite one assumes being a rather personal work. the strands of darkness that swirl through are tempered by humour; absurd almost theatrical veins pulsing blood ans spunk and muck around the body. there's a bluish tinge of the science fiction on the lips of both. and directly you could draw a line between fazzini and burroughs with throbbing gristle in the middle, all of which shouldn't detract from the warped new-wave mutant pop that forms the damaged heart of this bugger. it's a record that manages to be violently listenable and malleably harsh at the same time. it's a record that despite being a quarter of a century old sounds utterly modern due to the volume of the synth punk kids making a vintage squelch noise. in fact fazzini could be factum's musical dad...
it's a strange and exotic and otherwordlyworld it inhabits, with all the sinister oddness and curiosity felching wonder of crinkle cut chips when you were a kid. one that opens with a near-joke in 'yawnings in the awnings'; given that it consists of the beige drone of late nigh bbc open university lectures with layered yawns schmered over the top, and from ther on it's like some cabaret post-something musical version of tetsuo the ironman.
yup, dintictly cyborgian in its mixing of human and machine fluids, coming on at times, particularly on 'slow', with all the ugly fuck of discordance that wolf eyes conjure up. you know, all klang and skree and brake fluid vomiting; minimal uber-distorted beats and brutalist vox spat right in yr faceholes with garish glee. never trust a man in a polo neck. sage advice, my friend.
elsewhere he indulges his greasy queasy pop side that sounds not unlike marvin the android doing alan vega karaoke at an incest survivors support group. slightly grim, slightly camp, ever so slightly freaking out. somewhere between the (experi)mental post-somethings that sprung up late seventies early eighties, betwixt joy division's black cloud gloomery and the automaton brittle punkisms of the flying lizards, with the noise shronk of shock headed peters (with kazoo on 'there be no.')
it's just an odd way ahead of its time record, predating the above mentioned wolf eyes postpunk industrial clatter and stream of conscience bile by a few years, but also shares similar geography and the warm analogue gloop of boards of canada: see the slightly monged pastorialisms of 'excursion to rothesay.'
as the man said: '..on the edge, lots of anger and the absurdity of life all swirling around. remember believing at the time that i would probably have a short life, so that desperation fed into the album. first and last chance to maybe say something on record. towards the end of the recording a welcome sense of levity crept in, spurred on by the ludicrous casio pre-sets.'



1984 vinyl 1st edition : a-mission, leeds uk
2009 remastered 2nd edition, 180g vinyl : locust music, chicago us