And with that, we bid you adieu. Yes, A Map of Black Congo NC, is shutting it down. We did it. Made an album. Went on a successful tour. Talked on end about our band and the things we like. Now, we look out at the horizon, ready to serve once again, in whatever form, as vessels of human creative energy. Thanks for listening.
Live in Miami 1984 is way for sale. To obtain a copy, please email Charlie Hearon at FrequeNC: frequenc@gmail.com
Or email Bo White at Kinnikinnik: kinnikinnikrecords@gmail.com
And you can now find me HERE.
Nearly two years passed before these songs were pressed into vinyl. That makes for a whole, whole lot of time to name an album. Here are some of the terrible titles we tossed around over those 20-some months:
The Yauhaus Sessions
Astral Weekends
Live in Key West 1978
Well-Known Pleasures
It Takes a Village to Raise a Nation of Children to Hold Us Back
Malayja
Graucho
Tranny & Blowy
The Ghetto Address
Afro the Goldrush
After the Bumrush
Tusk II
Haiti: A Very BCNC Tribute
Automatic for the Peephole
What in the World Would Carmen San Diego Do?
Wrestlemania XXLI
Gaze Anatomy
Dutch Coffin
Sanford & Sun Ra
Christmas on Easter Island
Alice in Coltranes
Mojito Hour
Calling Out a Kotex
Pippi Longstephenhawking
Naked Brunch
Pissing on Summer Lawns
For one night only in August 2008, BCNC called itself The French & Indian War and rewrote/reimagined every song on Paul Simon’s classic album, Graceland. The project was called New Graceland, and the image above was the rough draft design for the t-shirts we hoped to make. We got a keg instead of making t-shirts.
Check out this jazzhole. I deeply miss the boys of BCNC, and so does the music.*
*Lose that Budweiser cap, fratass.
It’s Dark in Here
by Shel Silverstein
I am writing these poems
From inside a lion
And it’s rather dark in here.
So please excuse the handwriting
Which may not be too clear
But this afternoon by the lion’s cage
I’m afraid I got to near
I am writing these lines
From inside a lion
And it’s rather dark in here
In a feature-length piece, The Sunday Times were granted a rare interview with the reclusive Sade:
Reviewers here meanwhile complain that she can’t really sing. The first time I put this to her, she giggles, the way she often does when fending off jibes. “It can be very hostile, England. Not just to me, to everybody. England’s like a sour old auntie. You go and stay with her although she criticises you all the time and doesn’t treat you right, even when you’re doing your best. But you keep on loving her, in a certain way. And then you die.” She laughs. “Those bitches always outlive you!”
COMING SOON TO A GHETTOBLASTER NEAR YOU.
Can’t stop. Won’t stop.