Heavy hangs, spider sharp!

I guess that I done did good. At this time of the year, when almost everyone reflects on the twelve months that have passed, I think it is key to keep looking forward, at least for the purpose of retaining my marbles, and so as to not be caught unawares. If I start thinking about what a great job I've done with this radio program and its peripheral activities, it will lead to the inevitable (for me) lamentations - "Why am I not more appreciated by WFMU as a whole? Why did I get cornered into this late-night time slot, when I seemed by all accounts to be riding the white stallion in east-coast prime time?" "Why are my efforts not more valued in general, and why am I not somehow gettin' paid to do what I do bla bla bla." I torture myself with this shit. I suppose it's important for the few people who do keep an eye on this blog to know this—that the angst expressed, both on the program, and especially via my choices in music, is DEAD REAL—I'm not kidding, though I do fancy making sport of my own anguish at the very same time. I am consumed with hatred SO MUCH of the time, that it's often crippling. So, when dw writes, "Such amazing sets this year on My Castle of Quiet, thanks!", and Rory T. writes, "Me personally wm. i think you have had one of the best shows on wfmu you've had TOMB,Husere Grav, C.Lav,Metal Rouge etc. live on your show", coalhard writes, "NICE SEGWAY--LOVE IT!!", and dour writes, "thanks for this show", I really DO appreciate it. I'm touched deeply, even by the simple notion of, as ms_a writes, that "the castle: (is a) perfect end to a very nice day." I am trying, always, to put out the best music there is, to honor the artists I believe in, and most importantly to represent a mind state that is so prevalent, yet so under-expressed in terms of broadcast media. There are so many of us that feel like shit, so much of the time, and yet, it's happy pop tunes, and that good, old-time rock and roll, that most often receive center stage, both on WFMU, and elsewhere, as the radio station itself is merely a microcosm of this big ol' world we live in. Enough.

His lanky viciousness, his low-rent sleaze, conveyed in his every facial expression, his every word spoken, and every move his body makes, are what set Michael Findlay apart from the other characters that populated the underground cinema of the 60s and 70s. Like an American Jean Rollin, Findlay was out to make a buck, show us some tits, and sprinkle in self-expression, even "art" in the process. Forever may he live; forever may his machete wail, as he screams, "I've been...waiting to chop the ugly penis from your BODY!"

These then, are my heroes, clowns, if you will, like Mike Findlay, who produced, produced and produced; put shit out there, like maniacs, but always with the quality IN. The antiheroes, the troublemakers, the sons-of-bitches who didn't get along with everyone and said what they thought and expressed what they felt, regardless of the judgments cast by a small-minded public who lacked imagination.

Someday, I get paid to be ME, and until that day, I'm driven, among other things, to bring you the likes of Andreas Brandal, Umberto, Defuntos and Mordheim, and most importantly, FUN, our very special guests for last night's horrorcast. FUN were great company, and recorded two impressive performances, which will post next week to WFMU's Free Music Archive and Beware of The Blog. Please help yourself to a browse of my curator portal at the Free Music Archive, as it's there you'll find all the sessions I've hosted this past year, and quite a bit more—all free, for listening and/or download. It truly has been a great year for the show, and I can't thank enough all the bands (and engineers) that made the live sessions possible.

Findlay hacked that guy's pecker to minced meat. Not until Raging Bull, years later, would such an unnerving "you fucked my wife" scenario grace the screen. Click on that vengeful bastard to access the playlist and audio archive(s) of last night's My Castle of Quiet broadcast.