The Young Mothers - A Mother's Work Is Never Done

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Under interrogation, bass-slinger Ingebrigt Håker Flaten was unable to produce conclusive answers as to what the organization known as The Young Mothers was actually up to.

OK ... technically this isn't a review, but I'll explain: The following was written as a press sheet for The Young Mothers (did they use it? I have no idea ...) As such, I can't write about it again ... so here, for your amusement, is the press sheet in lieu of a review (which I think should be OK, as I wrote it ... y'know ...)

Under interrogation, bass-slinger Ingebrigt Håker Flaten was unable to produce conclusive answers as to what the organization known as The Young Mothers was actually up to. There is no question that they have been running guns for Jazz terrorists, been serious chemical mules for hip-hopsters, been salvaging nuclear submarines for heavy metal junkies, been trading in ethnic artefacts on an electronic black market, and staying tuned to top 40 radio the whole time, if only to discover how perverted the other half is. A spare Willie Nelson CD remains on hand in case of emergencies.


Featuring expressive rhythmic object-bashers Frank Rosaly and Stefan Gonzalez, reed agitator Jason Jackson, violent 6-string masseuse Jonathan Horne, and multitasking uberhuman Jawaad Taylor, The Young Mothers represent an Austin-centric conglomerate that assemble heterogeneous auditory overloads, diverse sensibilities, and multitudinous sensibilia. A Mother's Work Is Never Done is their homage to Austin via omnifarious channels, some real, some imagined, but all in full and rambunctious working order at maximum capacity.



A stormy night radio broadcast live from a meatpacking factory suddenly erupts into a punk jazz riot featuring Les Claypool as guest Molotov cocktail mixer. There is a great deal of bloodshed and destruction. The ambulance manages (barely) to escape the machinegun fire in the end. A retreat to the corner store proves no less fraught with urban peril.



We enter a lazy afternoon in the angriest lounge on Earth (open door policy, but zero tolerance for assholes). A door at the back opens, and we discover the Jazz Liberation Front's Annual Barbecue in full swing, complete with live stallion roasting on a spit. The aroma itself is succulent.


Virgoan Ways

Meanwhile, somewhere in planetary orbit, Space Station Tango Yankee Mike's inhabitants are re-mapping the stars in the constellation Virgo, but discover that the city lights on the dark side of the earth form the constellation of the hammerhead shark. It transpires that Boggy Creek is the eye.



During this time, the Martian colony of New Austin has entered a spaghetti western phase, where life is cheap, and death is pretty good value too. The Arabic Karakhaneh gang have a controlling stake along most of the frontier, all achieved without much in the way of blood-loss. The classical conservatory on Deimos write occasional pieces for every square meter lost and gained. A relic of Ingmar Bergman is preserved in perspex for future colonial generations.



The underworld and underground jazz mutants of Austin, TX, come together to celebrate the feast of Zappadan. Stravinsky's ghost steals most of the refreshments to create a scale model of the Devil's Tower. Most participants have drier feet than usual, yet perspire heavily. The inclusion of chocolate makes a welcome change.



Somewhere, south by southwest, in the dark jungle, a glam jazz rock missionary unit discover that they're the ones in crucial need of conversion, and pull up their square roots. Thanks to an accelerated burst of continental drift, they are able to drive home to Travis County without mishap.


No animals were physically harmed during the making of this album (however, The Young Mothers accept no responsibility for any psychological damage to livestock). And, while initially Austin-centric, it seems likely that with this album The Young Mothers have created an intercontinental ballistic infiltration unit capable of taking many unwitting ears hostage. Their campaign of motherly love has begun, and a mother's work is never done. Keep your ears open.



* The DPM Rating System
When we rate an album or concert etc we rate it on the "Huzzah!" system. A score can be between 1 and 3 huzzahs:
1 Huzzah! - The reviewer likes it. You should give it a listen!
2 Huzzah! - The reviewer recommends it - and is delighted it is part of his/her collection
3 Huzzah! - The reviewer strongly recommends it - and it has already entered heavy rotation on his/her personal playlists.

On rare occasions there may be a 0 Huzzah! review. The reasons will be explained in the article. On equally rare occasions you may even see a 4 Huzzah ... well explain that another time :)

We dont do negative reviews because we review what we like.

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