Filed Under:carey mercer

New Blackout Beach (Carey Mercer) LP – Fuck Death – Download “Beautiful Burning Desire”

I’m very privileged to announce that Dead Oceans will be releasing the next record from the brilliant and talented musician (and twitterer) Carey Mercer, Blackout Beach’s Fuck Death. Carey wrote a note to provide context, which we will share with you:

Fuck Death is a record named after a Leon Golub painting, an American painter I admire very much. The record is an attempt to make something about Beauty and War. I have very little experience with these concepts.

This is not a political record, though I suspect those will be coming soon enough.

It took three years to make, which, I admit, is a long time to make a record.

(Download the single “Beautiful Burning Desire” below!)

Here are some influences and inspirations that helped me work through this one:
The Book of Job; Michael Herr’s Dispatches; this Russian film called Come and See; 80’s Vietnam films employing 60’s guitar sounds to sweep us back into that era; the awesomeness of Platoon to the ten-year old mind; Orwell’s Homage To Catalonia; Kraftwerk; Fuzz; Brownface Princeton tremolo; Wind sounds; Cosmic Sounds; Death Sounds; Archilochus’ fragments; Iraq; Cheerleaders; Chinese soldier poems, and Shawn MacDonald’s mountain photos, cloud-and-sky-and-stone images that I returned to many times while constructing the record.

Carey Mercer by Shawn McDonald

The record is a sibling to the last Blackout Beach record, Skin of Evil. But the longing in Fuck Death is not romantic; these are deserter’s songs, coward’s songs. I am all for reassessing cowardice. The most important lyric on Fuck Death is “run away.” It’s a bit heavy, especially because the dominant 2011 story is that kids want to live on an invisible beach within their hearts and party this stuff away. But not all kids scorn uneasiness. And not all music is made for kids.

I recorded Fuck Death myself, which might be a 2011 thing to do; by that I mean that this record could not have been made with anyone else, anywhere else. I used three synthesizers (two mono, one poly), two drum machines, and one guitar amplifier. Megan Boddy sings with me on most of the songs. I thank her for that.

- Carey Mercer, Blackout Beach

Fuck Death will be out on vinyl and digital formats on November 15th (14 in the UK), 2011.

 

Frog Eyes’ Carey Mercer Shares Live Blackout Beach Album on Bandcamp


Carey Mercer is best known as the songwriter and vocalist of the band Frog Eyes. However, Mercer also releases solo recordings as Blackout Beach and is one third of the Canadian supergroup Swan Lake. Although Frog Eyes are widely known for their explosive live shows, Swan Lake has never once performed live, and Blackout Beach has played in public just one time. This live album, titled Live at the Orange Hall is a document of Blackout Beach’s only live performance and can be purchased via bandcamp for just $2.99.

Frog Eyes Embark on Conquest of North America

frogeyes_tourgraphic

From now through the month of June, the Pride of Victoria, British Columbia — Frog Eyes — will be airing the well-read, raw psychedelia found on the band’s Dead Oceans debut, Paul’s Tomb: A Triumph, across this fine continent of ours. As anyone who has crossed paths with this musical beastie knows, Frog Eyes’ shows are primal, otherworldly and maybe as close to a pop music enema as many of us will ever get.

Tour dates HERE.

It’s fitting, then, that just as Frog Eyes hits the highway for tour that Carey Mercer take a moment to wax poetic on the city that the band calls home. His brilliant, heartfelt essay on Victoria, British Columbia for Aquarium Drunkard’s Off the Record series is something to behold. Mercer gives us the good, the bad and the ugly of Victoria, calling it a “city for the belly”:

My city is not a city for the mind, and not even a city for the body, but in fact it is a city for the belly.

Think of Falstaff: his coarse gut-tunic is stained with mussel juice and pernod, and he is crocked and delirious on some coriander-ed wheat ale, brewed just minutes from where he now holds court. His mouth spews local-lamb gristle and roasted turnip, and his sleeve is encrusted with the many translucent shells of spot prawn. And then he spies and smells a fresh platter of Chanterelles swimming in butter and duck fat. His tongue curls around his salted and greased cheeks: he is so laminated in oils and pates and jellies that he could easily eat himself. Blackberries stain his chin. Salmon bones hang like forgotten combs in his curled hair. He cannot possibly eat enough.

Wow, right? With that kind of high-lit writing prowess, many have wondered if a side career in letters is something Mercer has considered. But as Mercer told the Portland Mercury recently in a feature to preview Frog Eyes’ upcoming visit, his true place in this world — thank the rawk gawds — is on stage with mighty axe in hand:

Frog Eyes remains unique in Mercer’s ability to fit so many ideas—both lyrical and music—into his songs, which despite their strangeness are actually quite warm and welcoming. “I could become, like, a noise guy who gets paid to go play artist-run centers,” says Mercer of the alternatives to indie rock. “Maybe I could read a poem. But that doesn’t seem as appealing to me as playing in front of 30 awkward teenagers in Boise, Idaho.”

Well said, Mr. Mercer. See you out there.

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