The Phantom Limbs: The Mothership

Ah, my dearest Cassius, as the Ides of March approach, thy Facebook status haunts me to my bones. Just a fortnight ago, I poked thee on such a gay night with my dog Brutus' iPad and now thee defriends me, and blocks me from seeing thy wall. As I sat weeping, cradling the weight of eternal sadness, I realized thy foul plot, thy sickening scheme. 

Okay, I'm tired of the Shakespeare schtick, but we are on a collision course with the aforementioned Ides, only instead of a political assassination, we're planing two killer fucking parties: Friday, March 12 at JC's Northside (this party is also doubling as my engagement party) and Saturday, the 13th at the Pit and Pub. You can also catch 2/3rds of the band along with a crew of stragglers tossing taffy from a boardwalk tram in the OC St. Patrick's Day Parade. If you see us on tram, please, hold out hats, cups, what-have-you, so we can have targets. 

We have a slew of other dates on the horizon and we're finally breaking into Annapolis. More on that later.

I want to take this time to shift my critical focus from the music industry to that of the cinema, or should I say cinesuck, or should I say cineblows, or should I say movies suck so bad that nearly every new release makes me want to paint the wall with my extra buttery popcorn saturated brains. Yeah, that's the one.

If you paid 10 dollars, plus concessions, you glutton, to go see Drive Angry, then I think you automatically get left out of the Rapture subway train that's supposedly leaving the station in May. 

But I digress. To put a positive spin on the amazingly low and drab place to which the American cinema has descended, the quality of premium cable TV shows more than compensates for the void of quality entertainment. Shows like True Blood, Big Love, Dexter, and, most recently, Shameless have successfully combined movie quality acting and production with the serial manner in which novels unfold. Ultimately, I recommend reading a book over seeing any movie that's out there, but if you're starved for easy entertainment, any one of these shows will quench your thirst. 

If you've managed to stay with me through this rubbish, you should know that it's very late, and I've had very little sleep as of late. No rest for the weary, or the mentally ill. I should take this time to schill:

Please please please, sister Socrates, buy our records. They are cheap and they help us make new ones, and that's all any of us want to do with our lives: make records. Also, come to our shows. I promise they will be fun. 

Here's my recipe for tempura softcrabs with an Asian and Jamaican fusion glaze. 

Ingredients 

6 Softshell crabs or however many you and your peeps want (I always eat two), cleaned

Peanut oil for deepfrying

Tempura batter - 1 cup rice flour, 1/2 cup cornstarch, 2 teaspoons kosher salt, 2 teaspoons ground ginger, 10 oz club soda - Mix all that shit together except the club soda, which you whisk in vigorously. Beat that shit till it's a smooth, thick liquid (add water if it's too thick, more cornstarch if it's too liquidy), keep in on ice till you fry

Asian Jamacian glaze - fill a small saucepan with orange juice, add about a half cup of light soy sauce, 6 allspice berries, 1/4 cup of white wine vinegar and one habenero with 3 slits cut into it. cook that shit down till it reduces by half. Add some honey, salt and pepper and adjust the Asian-ness with more soy sauce or more vinegar. strain the sauce into a bowl to remove the big hunks of stuff and then put it back in the pot. Continue to cook down until it's a glaze - but don't burn it! Keep warm on the stove

Now, on to the good stuff. Heat up about a 4 or 5 inches of peanut oil to 350 in a heavy pot using a deep fry thermometer. One at a time, and in batches of three, dip your crabs into the batter and shake off excess drippies. Fry those bastards for about 3 minutes or until golden brown and remove to paper towels to drain. 

To plate, cut the crabs in half and stack them on the plate so that it looks like a tripped out Japanese forest. Drizzle some of the glaze on the bottom of the plate and garnish with thinly chopped green onions and thyme leaves. 

I also like to accompany this dish with thinly sliced cucumbers soaked in rice wine vinegar along with a slice of fresh mango.  

Suck it, loser.

Ryan

Hey, guys. It's been a little while. We've been busy breaking strings and throwing drums around, and I haven't really been able to drop an update. 

The state of Rock, Alternative Rock, Indie Rock and the recording industry in general remains piss fucking poor. Luckily we don't give a bag of sheep dick about any of those fookin prawns. We continue to make records, even though the "in" thing to do is write and upload tracks, and we continue to play loud, sloppy drunken shows at any bar that will have us. And no, loud dude in the back, we don't cover Lynyrd Skynyrd, and no, slutty late-20something chick in the front, we do not cover Pearl Jam. 

That said (which is another obnoxious much hated phrase by myself), the opportunities for us to get out there and tour have been strangled and limited. Sure, Ocean City and Baltimore have been kind to us. But I think we're ready to really get out to new places and take dumps in strange bathrooms across America. 

We're doing the best we can to book venues in other cities, but it's a challenge coming from us, an original band without representation. What I'm asking of you, gentle reader, is to go to your favorite bar, pub, small concert room, etc. Sit at the bar and say, "you know who would be great here: The Phantom Limbs." Then proudly stand on the bar and zumba your way into their hearts. Or, on second thought, just give them a copy of our CD(s) and our contact info (ThePhantomLimbs@aol.com). We want to play at your joint, it just sounds better if the request comes from you and not us, else we appear as the island smoke monsters we truly are. 

So I offer you this: you book the gig, we give you a manager's rate (20%-40% depending on our travel expenses to get there and how much our tab is, which is perennially nearly as high as our pay a la Blues Brothers). 

To give you an idea, we've been desperately trying to book shows in Annapolis (Stan and Joes, Armadillos, etc.), D.C. (The Rock and Roll Hotel, The Black Cat, etc.), and Philly (Johnny Brendas, etc.), but I don't care where you are. You book it, we'll play it. 

Now, let's move on, shall we? It's my month to host the Annapolis Dinner Club ... I know, punk rock as all bloody fuck, right? I'm thinking about doing some winter tailgaiting dishes with some cheap Baltimore based beer to celebrate the Ravens playoff berth. One of the flavors of wings I'll be doing is actually Randolph's recipe. I should say, however, that Randolph never gives exact measurements to any of the recipes he gives me. I get the feeling that he's one eyeballin' mahfucker. So, without further ado, here's the recipe sent via text message to me by our drummer Randolph for his "Ravens Wings." Ironically he's a Jets fan who works at a Redskins bar.

 

Sautee some shallots in butter.

Throw some blueberries, grape jelly, brown sugar and honey in there.

Thats your sauce. You know the rest. 

(Postscript - though no measurements are included, I'm guessing 3 shallots, one package of frozen blueberries, 2 tablespoons of grape jelly, 1 tablespoon of brown sugar, and honey to taste. I should also note that the best way to cook wings are in a pot with 4 inches of 350 degree peanut oil for about 13 minutes or until they turn golden brown. Then toss in the sauce.)

Cheers! And Happy New Year!

 

Ryan

Wow It's been so long since we've last spoken at length. How have you been?

We've been working our asses off in all facets of our lives, but especially music. Since my last update, we have completed Episode 2: Aberzombie and Flesh. The record is our most adventurous yet and again features the amazing art work of O.C.'s own Pete Mueller. 

We're releasing the record as part of a "Devil's Night Art Show" hosted by us, The Phantom Limbs, and Peppers Tavern. It's this Saturday, the 30th of October all night so come out! And artist: get up with us (thephantomlimbs@aol.com) to submit your art for the show.

What else is new? Well, the state of the recording industry has degraded to the point of zombified. Nobody's buying records anymore because nobody's making records, albums that is. Musicians are now producing singles and tracks, and peddling them through a variety of online distribution sites. 

In my humble estimation, this blows seriously huge dick.

The transfer of power from album to single puts the onus of the music more on the hooks and catchy melodies rather than the artistic expression. This is far more suitable to teenaged dopey girls then to grown-ups and informed teenagers. Don't get me wrong, you can still be existential, satirical, ironic, etc. through one song, but unless you are scary talented I doubt you'll be able to cram all of said attributes into a nice, poppy hook. Bob Dylan and Jeff Tweedy ain't just a couple of hobbyists. 

What we're trying to do with these EPs (that's "Extended Play" for all you billboard novices out there, meaning a record that longer than the 45 rpm singles of yesteryear but too short to be considered an album) is give you album quality art in the form of a few tracks. It's both cost effective for the artist and the consumer. 

Right now the plan is to release two a year; that's roughly ten songs. 

As for touring aspect of the music world I have only this to say: Club promoters can paint the wall with their brains. I guess it's the economy, but venues all up and down the east coast are telling you one thing and then paying you another. Thank dear lord baby hay-zeus for joints like Pepper's Tavern, where they take care of you even if you're playing original shit that nobody's heard. We're still going to keep playing every shit hole place we can find, if for no other reason than to laugh at Styler gimping around the dance floor.

I digress.

Television stinks, but True Blood was great. I also really like Bored to Death, but other than, man, what a bleak world. 

I haven't been to the movies since Inglorious Bastards came out ... not even to see a horror movie? What the fuck is up with that? Note the correct usage of an ellipses. 

But despite the horrendous state of entertainment AMC Fear Fest and the anticipation for the Walking Dead has been keeping me going. I hope they don't fuck that show up.

That's it, I'm out. I hope everybody comes to the EP release this Saturday, but even if nobody comes I'll still get wasted (if we have a CD release and nobody comes, can you still hear me vomit?). 

Regards,

 

Ryan

The Phantom Limbs

PS - I'm entering several chili cookoffs this year. So far this is the recipe I'm sticking with. It's a chili verde with pork and tomotillos. Whip up a batch and let me know what you think.

Ingredients:

2 pounds tomatillos

1 head of garlic

41/2 pound pork shoulder (boneless, you don't want to fuck with a bone-in, trust me)

2 medium yellow onions

1 bottle Mexican lager.

1 bunch cilantro

Fresh oregano

Chicken stock

2 Jalepenos

2 of either Poblanos, Hungarian Wax, or Aneheim peppers

1 Habenero (optional, but don't be a puss)

 

Start by removing the husks of the tomatillos, cut them in half and place them on a foil lined baking sheet. Also on the baking sheet put 5 cloves of garlic (unwrapped) and pop those suckers under the broiler for 10 minutes or until the tomatillo skin is slightly blackened. 

While that's roasting, pop your peppers in a skillet over high heat and roast until the skins blister and blacken. Remove from the skillet and place in a zip lock bag to steam for 10 minutes. Remove and chop.

In blender, put the tomatillos, garlic (take the paper off first), chopped roasted peppers and a nice big handful of chopped fresh cilantro. Blend until smooth and set aside. 

Next, butcher that fucking raw ass pork shoulder. Try to cut as much fat as possible off and cut it down into small cubes (nothing so big that you couldn't fit a whole one in your mouth. Salt and pepper them mawfos. Heat some oil in a skillet (I prefer cast iron) and brown the pork cubes (don't cook!) in batches. When the chunks are cooked on the outside remove to a bowl (there should be some liquid in the bowl too). 

Next dice up your two onions and throw them in the same skillet with the rendered pork fat. Cook for about 5 minutes at med/hi heat, then add 3 cloves of garlic that you've minced. stir it around so the garlic doesn't burn. Cook for about 2 minutes, then poor out your skillet with the onions, garlic, oil into a soup pot. Add the pork and tomatillo sauce to the pot. Pour in about 3 cups of chicken stock. Deglaze your pan with the Mexican beer and pour that into the pot. Add a couple tablespoons of fresh oregano and some salt and pepper. Cook over low heat for a few hours until a lot of the liquid cooks off and the pork is nice and tender. 

Now go kick rocks.