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This album’s spent a lot of time spinning in a smoke-filled room. Not smoke from an unattended panini press. Not smoke from a curling iron left on an Ikea shag rug. Not the smoke Glenn Beck’s blowing up America’s ass.

Nay, it’s the smoke that huffs and puffs from a frog bong. Yes, the frog bong you used begrudgingly as a replacement for the perfectly nice, perfectly non-jumping bong your brothers broke while playing soccer in the apartment. The frog bong you “forgot” to pack in the big move. The frog bong you never got to say goodbye to…until now.

Wow, sweet. A frog. On a bong. Awesome.

Dear Frog Bong,

I never really liked you very much. You were an ugly mess of glass with a stupid frog blown on your side, for crying out loud. You were an exaggerated cliche of marijuana culture that showed up unwelcomed after the tragic loss of a good friend. Your beady little eyes eternally mocked his demise between each and every rip.

Every chillout, every prized stash, every slammin’ party was ruined just a little bit by your presence. Your unnecessary girth was a continual source of shame and coffee table dents. How many times did you ruin a potential friendship with your shitty ambiance? How many times did your deceivingly narrow downstem clog as soon as I flipped on disc two of my UNKLE album? Only endless fingers on endless hands could count the times.

I would have destroyed you if it were possible. However, several attempts to annihilate your faux permeable skin proved fruitless. A drop from the fourth floor balcony onto 33 E. McMillan Street didn’t create so much as a scratch. Letting my crack-dealing neighbor blast your facade repeatedly with his shotgun only deprived the world of a dozen 12-gauge shotgun shells. Multiple attempts murder you using a non-FIFA approved soccer ball in conjunction with a wicked bicycle kick proved folly at best.

And you took it all with an amphibious little smile. “Ribbit, ribbit,” you croaked, “you know you wanna hit it.” You monstrosity, you whore of Babylon. Your bulbous shaft was blown straight from the devil’s mouth…that’s what she said.

Goodbye forever. I hope you have a really tough time being green, you bastard.


Don’t cry, friend. That terrible frog bong can never hurt you again. I hope a look-see at this amazing music video for “Rabbit In Your Headlights” (ft. Thom Yorke) will dry those beautiful eyes.

>>>Click here to download Psyence Fiction at 320 kbps


1 Guns Blazing (Drums Of Death Part 1) 5:01
Lyrics By, Vocals – Kool G Rap
Music By – DJ Shadow
Recorded By [Vocals] – DJ Shadow , Kevin Scott
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Vocals [Additional] – Lateef The Truth Speaker , Lyrics Born
Written-By – J. Davis* , N. Wilson*
2 UNKLE Main Title Theme 3:24
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Written-By – J. Davis*
3 Bloodstain 5:57
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Performer [Sample] – Be Be K Roche*
Recorded By [Vocals] – James Lavelle , Jim Abbiss
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Vocals, Lyrics By – Alice Temple
Written-By – A. Temple* , J. Davis*
4 Unreal 5:10
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Performer [Sample] – Jules Blattner Group, The
Written-By – J. Davis* , Jules Blattner
5 Lonely Soul 8:56
Arranged By [Strings], Conductor [Strings] – Wil Malone
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Recorded By [Vocals] – Sie Medway-Smith , UNKLE
Strings – London Session Orchestra*
Written-By – J. Davis* , R. Ashcroft* , W. Malone*
6 Getting Ahead In The Lucrative Field Of Artist Management 0:56
Music By [The Entertainer (uncredited)] – Scott Joplin
7.1 Nursery Rhyme 4:45
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Recorded By [Vocals] – Jim Abbiss , UNKLE
Vocals, Lyrics By – Badly Drawn Boy
Written-By – D. Gough* , J. Davis*
7.2 Breather
Vocals [Breaths] – James Lavelle
8 Celestial Annihilation 4:44
Arranged By [Strings], Conductor [Strings] – Wil Malone
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By [Additional] – DJ Shadow
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Strings – London Session Orchestra*
Written-By – J. Davis* , W. Malone*
Written-by [Concerto For Strings And Beats] – Wil Malone
9 The Knock (Drums Of Death Part 2) 3:58
Bass, Theremin – Jason Newstead*
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Scratches [Cuts And Skratches] – DJ Shadow
Vocals, Lyrics By – Mike D
Written-By – J. Davis* , M. Diamond*
10 Chaos 4:42
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – Atlantique (2)
Producer [Additional] – DJ Shadow
Vocals, Lyrics By – Atlantique (2)
Written-By – A. Khan*
11 Rabbit In Your Headlights 6:20
Bass, Synthesizer – Thom Yorke
Mixed By – Jim Abbiss
Music By – DJ Shadow
Recorded By [Vocals] – Kevin Scott , UNKLE
Vocals, Lyrics By – Thom Yorke
Written-By – J. Davis* , T. Yorke*

*Download Below*

A while back I posted a review about the Cincinnati band Fidel Catastrophe here. The review mentioned that frontman and jack-of-all-trades Karl Spaeth was attempting to get the album pressed on vinyl via a Kickstarter campaign. Well, the campaign was successful and I just received my copy of the album, which I promptly ripped for your aural pleasures.

Originally it was slated to be a regular black 12″ disc. This was until divine providence instructed Spaeth to press his work in an array of brilliant red, orange and white sunbursts. It took a little longer to finish the run but the big man was right because, to be completely honest, this is the sexiest disc I have ever laid eyes on.

One ghost for side one.

Two ghosts for side two.

I have a fair share of colored vinyl. Most of it’s just the solid variety. Here a red Of Montreal Disc, there a blue Elvis disc, everywhere a clear Voivod disc. Then I have others, like my Smashing Pumpkins’ Siamese Dream disc, that has an orange cream swirl thing going for it. But And The Bleak Shall Inherit The Earth is the only one that gives viewers the impression they’re staring into the eye of God.

What really sets this album apart from every other colored disc I own is that it will play on my Technics SL-10 without any problems. The Technics SL-10 is unique in that it has infrared sensors on the platter to automatically detect what size disc is playing. The cartridge will always know where to start a record and automatically move there once you close the turntable’s lid, regardless if you’re playing a 12″, 10″ or 7″ disc. It just knows, man.

But sometimes it gets blinded by those pretty colored discs and can’t see straight.

As you can see from the video the Fidel Catastrophe disc had no problem playing. It’s probably thicker than other colored vinyl I own, which is always nice. Also, it probably doesn’t hurt that it was commissioned by the word of the Almighty.

Not only did it play without a hiccup but the sound was phenomenal. I heard all sorts of layers that had previously been unknown to me. I was taken to folds of Spaeth’s brain that, albeit humid and somewhat dangerous, sizzled and thumped me to the very core.

And, with many new LPs now costing $20+, And The Bleak Shall Inherit The Earth is criminally accessible at only $12. Plus, you get the new Sweaty Money EP download with the album. The new tracks on Sweaty Money, in my opinion, are really fucking good.

So, download this full album preview and then get your ass over to the Broken Circles store for the real thing.

>>Download And The Bleak Shall Inherit The Earth here

Click here for a random Rebuilt Tranny post!

Will Smith has been a lot of things in his life. He started off as a loveable miscreant run amok in an affluent California community, mixing follies of youth with tough life lessons. Next, he served as the human race’s first ambassador, albeit informally, to visitors from another planet. Along the way he was twice nominated for the Saturn Award for Best Actor (?). Yes, he has worn a large pair of ears under many hats.

But can The Fresh Prince, with all of his achievements, be considered a bona fide badass? Let’s explore arguments for and against, shall we?

Arguments For!

1) Will Smith Works the Booty

Yes, you read that correctly. Will Smith works the booty. This isn’t that spectacular, you say. I too have worked the booty on several occasions, you say. But have you worked the booty in a public setting? On stage in front of hundreds, nay, thousands of screaming fans? Unless you work in the Red Light District of Amsterdam the answer is probably no. But Will Smith has. And it shook the room. The good stuff starts 21 seconds into the video.

Standin’ in a crowd of girls like a (sic) island

I see the one I want I said, “Come here cutie”

I flip her around and then I work that booty

Work the body, work work the body

Slow down girl you’re ’bout to hurt somebody

It appears that the booty was worked with a voracity that risked bodily harm to spectators in the immediate vicinity. That, my friends, is some pretty badass booty working.

**Also, check out the rigidity of FP’s dance moves. What’s the deal?

2) Will Smith’s real life butler is Geoffrey from The Fresh Prince of Bel Air

He’s actually more of an indentured servant. I think it has something to do with Caribbean law, an expired visa and the awesome power of NBC and its parent company General Electric. I’m not really sure. But Will Smith eats a lot of mash potatoes…nearly a third of his own body weight in hand-mashed taters each day. And Geoffrey has terrible rheumatoid arthritis, which makes the 19-hour mashing shift unbearable. It takes a full-time surveillance team to ensure that Geoffrey doesn’t commit suicide. After all, who else would make Will Smith’s mashed potatoes?

But Will Smith doesn’t care, because Will Smith is hungry. So terribly hungry.

Help me, sir!



1) Will Smith Is A Closet Scientologist

Will Smith has time and time again rejected accusations that he is a practicing Scientologist. However, the Fresh Prince owns and operates a private school for affluent California children. One of the courses students take, in addition to Jiggynomics 101, is Study Technology. Study Technology is the Scientological approach to reinforcement of certain learning principles aimed at cleansing a student or student’s……blah blah blah. Check out the article from ABC News here. He’s basically a black Tom Cruise.

Just know that Will Smith’s music career was inspired by Scientologist founder L. Ron Hubbard’s soundtrack for Battlefield Earth. If you haven’t heard that soundtrack you’re in luck because it’s available for download on Rebuilt Tranny right here!

Take a little taste, if you dare:

2) Will Smith’s From Philadelphia

Yes, this is a real setback for Will Smith obtaining his Class A International Badass License. As you may or may not know, Will Smith’s “from West Philadelphia, born and raised.” He spent much of that time doddling away in the copious slide n’ swing haunts dotting his neighborhood.

Technically, Philadelphia is a real-deal urban metropolis complete with the typical urban woes: drugs, prostitution, and of course violence. Philly is the 6th most dangerous city in the United States according to the highly reputable Morgan Quitno Press. So Will Smith probably did suffer a few bumps a bruises from the local Ruffians. Black Magic and Cherry Bombs were common practice on West Philly four square courts throughout the 80’s.

West Philly playground bully Billy "Bus Stop" Tonalito

So what’s wrong with Philadelphia? It’s often referred to as the “City of Brotherly Love”. I’m sorry, but that just isn’t badass. Well, I guess it could be, if you were one of these guys:

Big Willy Style

So, is Will Smith a stud or a dud?

Will Smith: Sexy Vampire

You make the call.


>>>Click here to download Code Red at 320 kbps


A1 Somethin’ Like Dis 4:08
Producer – Pete Rock
A2 I’m Looking For The One (To Be With Me) 4:35
Producer – Markell Riley , Teddy Riley
A3 Boom! Shake The Room 3:49
Producer – Mr. Lee
A4 Can’t Wait To Be With You 3:51
Producer – Will Smith
Vocals – Christopher Williams , Nuttin’ Nyce
A5 Twinkle Twinkle (I’m Not A Star) 5:23
Producer – Jeff Townes
A6 Code Red 3:30
Producer – Pete Rock
B1 Shadow Dreams 4:05
Producer – Hula & K. Fingers
B2 Just Kickin’ It 4:11
Producer – Hula & K. Fingers
B3 Ain’t No Place Like Home 5:08
Producer – Xavier Hargrove
B4 I Wanna Rock 6:19
Producer – Jeff Townes , Victor Emanuel Cooke
B5 Scream 4:31
Producer – Dallas Austin
B6 Boom! Shake The Room (Street Remix) 4:30
Producer – Mr. Lee
Remix – DJ Jazz , Jazzy Jeff* , Victor Emanuel Cooke

Tying down the sound that Tobacco uses on this album can be a bit of a challenge. There are so many analog, digital and motocicletic manipulations of good, church-going sounds. I think the cover really is a good place to start. It’s fair to liken it unto a journey untertaken by big bowl of sweet meat beats while being chewed and gnashed by a muscley Pat. Manlady ate all sorts of Legos and carpet earlier in the day so shit gets hairy once everything arrives in Gullet Town.

But I think the best way to describe this is by remembering the first time you tripped some serious balls on shrooms. You remember, you were camping on the bank of the Great Miami River just outside of Harrison, OH. It was early summer and you could hear Edgewater Dragstrip from just outside of the valley. Those blown Mustangs and funny cars sounded like prehistoric beasts fighting for a giant rack of Fred Flintstone ribs.

It also happened to be the weekend of Gravelrama on the opposite side of the river in Cleves, OH. Gravelrama celebrates the tradition of Rednecks getting loaded, playing loud hillbilly music and ramping their 4-wheelers up and around a gravel track in what they call a “race”.

Between the dragstrip and the good ol’ boys’ convention it sounded like World War 3 had broken out over the baby blue airspace blanketing the protected Ohio watershed.

So it wasn’t surprising that soon after you downed your 1/8th ounce of funky cowpoop mushies the sounds of the ‘Rama took you by the cerebelum. Not in the way that a Geico commercial will hold your attention for 30 seconds and then immediately leave you playing the husk of a man role on Law & Order. No, because the thwomp el shroomhammer laid on you that early summer evening knew no time. You were locked in the midst of the nothing, staring into a  tiny cesspool on the Great Miami, observing the mosquito breeding ground and just knowing what they were up to. You just knew.

Suddenly, you heard the ominous beat of a drum, the kind primitive people construct from a hollowed tree stump and stretched hide of animal skin. It became louder and louder, emanating from around the bend…somewhere off toward I-74. And then it appeared, a viking ship, a real life viking ship curling around the bend in all its awesome splendor. You could see the men rowing their long oars in tempo with the terrible pounding of the deerflesh drum. Onward to pillage the awesome treasure of your recently discovered bloodsucker fucking ground. “You can’t have it!” you yelled. “Their diseases are mine!” And you stood ready for a fight, even if it meant tearing your brown Levi’s Action Slacks. But as soon as they rounded that tiny little bend in the supposed Great they were gone.

And it became quite apparent that everything you knew, even the 15-minute-old memory of that Wendy’s JBC, didn’t seem real anymore. You were transported to a scene that you’d only seen on television in the no man’s land of 80’s summertime Saturday programming. Crazy trees that whispered directions to an abandoned trailer at the fork in the trail you dared not trespass. Purple mists that sprang from the gravel, the dirt, thin air and your suspiciously dry palms. Your fellow campers grew three sets of eyes, two mouths, and the ability to spit fire representing every spectrum known, and unknown, to scientific man.

Eventually, you left your party and sat in the forest to think of time and all eternity. Roots and thickets of all races laughed, played and grew from every part of your being. You became a fully functioning, almost necessary part of the forest. If you left, your leafy green friends would lose all knowledge of man, and therefore, the upper hand. The forest’s understanding of empty fiberglass boat hulls, giant tractor trailer hubs, aluminum dishwashers, Appalachian sized mountains of beer cans would all be lost. The forest would again become retarded…no longer a participant in our ugly pissing game.

And then, out of nowhere, your slinky friend showed up. He was obviously lost in some sort of Very Old Barton trance. He saw neither here nor there and, therefore, did not see the Buckeye tree planting its vulgar root at the base of your skull.

So, standing before you and oblivious to your presence, or that of God, he removed his pants und underskins and exposed his soft pleasure to find divine relief from his bourbon laden insides . But, instead of a penis…long, short, crooked, tanned, stove-burned…there was a spinning paisley vortex in its place. Just a terrible choke of tie patterns laughing at the both of you; learning how to breathe and downloading the latest version of Powerpoint to your hard drives.

>>>Click here to download the best thing to happen to you since blue vinyl gloves.

Note the autographed copy.

and now…

Note the most awkward album signing of the 21st century.

 I went to see Themselves at the Southgate House in the winter of 2003 with my brother. At the time I had this little Canon digital camera that took its sweet old time capturing precious moments. So, it could take anywhere from 5 to 10 seconds from the time photographer pressed the clicker to when the shutter snapped.

Anyway, I went up to the merch booth after the show with my brother and struck up a conversation with Dose One. We discussed the show and how I worked with a guy that used to tour with him back in the day. While I was trying to help him remember how he used to rap with a guy I washed Porsches with, a guy named Zebediah, I got the brilliant idea that I should get my freshly purchased albums signed.

I asked Dose if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, to which he replied “hell naw” while whipping out black and silver markers. He signed The No Music original LP with a little black Sharpie drawing on the front. It was really quite adorable. For The Remixes he pulled out the sparkle silver job. I thought, “Yo Boy, you better get this histowic moment on record or your crew will NOT believe it. Word is bond!”

I handed Junior the janky little digi, struck the thumbs-up pose and copped a triumphant smile. Dose did his best to look excited and we froze the pose. And then everything hit slow mo. We both could see the little infrared autofocus light on the front blinking, so we just sat there waiting for the flash. And waited. And waited. I had totally forgotten about the totally unreliable snap. It was the longest 10 seconds of my life.

Suddently, Dose One grabbed my erect thumb and shook it. He grabbed that little dude and went down to Funky Town. What you see in the picture is the immediate aftermath of that member molestation. This wiggle ushered in a total loss of cool…and the moment I decided I’d never get an autograph ever again. 

Click here to download The No Music at 320 kbps


A1   Terror Fabulous 4:03  
  The No Music Of Hospitals.
A2   Hat Set For Butler 2:42  
    Remix [Demix] – Themselves
A3   Mouthful 4:12  
    Keyboards, Bass, Guitar – Jerome Opena
  Remix – Controller 7 , Matth
B1   Good People Check 5:03  
    Remix – Hrvatski
B2   Poison Pit 3:15  
    Remix – Why?
B3   Livetrap 2:51  
    Remix – Hood
  The No Music Of Mother’s Milk And Going Deaf.
C1   Only Child Explosion 2:56  
    Remix – Alias (3)
C2   Dr.Moonorgun Please 3:20  
    Remix – Grapedope*
C3   Darkskydemo 4:18  
    Remix – Fog
D1   You Devil You 4:26  
    Remix – Odd Nosdam
D2   Out In The Open 5:35  
    Remix – Notwist, The
D3   Hat In The Wind 7:13  
    Remix – Electric Birds