RIP Teresa Nervosa

Photo from King Coffey's twitter feed: “Teresa Taylor, seen
here in attack mode. My favorite drummer of all time. My
mentor, my friend, my sister from another mister.” 

Butthole Surfers drummer Theresa Taylor, aka Teresa Nervosa just passed away. She was co-drummer with high school friend King Coffey, aka Jeffrey Coffey— they were in marching band together in high school.

For a time when I was living in LA, working as a messenger, I had four cassettes in my car: John Coltrane Live At Birdland, Coltrane Live At the Village Vanguard... and Psychic, Powerless... and Locust Abortion Technician by the Butthole Surfers. 

Here she is in the movie Slacker: 

Groove o' the day: Melvins cover Butthole Surfers

I was re-listening to the videos in this post, and, in honor of music that makes you feel good— contra music that makes you feel nothing— here's the beat Coady Willis and Dale Crover are playing on Melvins' live cover of Graveyard, originally by The Butthole Surfers. 

Fill liberally. Repeat until well after the rest of the band stops.

This/not this: death metal

By popular request (well, one guy), here's another one of these— we'll take this in reverse order:

Not this:




This:



[h/t to Bo]

Bonus Melvins after the break:

Four cassettes

During the time I was living in LA in '92 there was a period of about four months when I was working for a messenger service, driving around making deliveries to minor celebrities. I was absorbing a weird combination of music for a good chunk of that time, with exactly four cassettes to listen to 8 hours a day: John Coltrane's Live at the Village Vanguard and Live at Birdland, along with Locust Abortion Technician and Psychic, Powerless... Another Man's Sac by the Butthole Surfers.

Occasionally I'd turn on the radio and would get some Steven Jesse Bernstein, or the Rollins Band, Helmet or some such. A notable experience was having In a Silent Way come on while being stuck in traffic on one miserably hot afternoon, running way late on a delivery to Gary Shandling (eventually got there around 7:30, when he answered the door in his bathrobe, looking a little pissed. Hey, I got other deliveries, and I'm not making a 75 minute detour to Topanga when I'm in the middle of a swath of stuff between West Hollywood and Venice. You want to try to route this mess? Shandling?):



But mostly it was these tunes coming up again and again for weeks:




Continued after the break: