Hello all,
It has been a while and I will not trouble you with some absurd story about how I was in ballet class in Thailand and how I fell and hit my head while attempting a releve lent and couldn't remember who I was and of course being in ballet class I had no identification and somehow could only speak Czech--a language I do not understand but somehow was able to be understood by Czech people--and got lost in an absinthe house still in Thailand and began a successful business selling wallets made out of huge fish scales but was sued when a fish scale decapitated a number of small children who used the wallets for frisbees (not their intended use and I thank the lords of litigation for making that clear to the courtroom thus absolving me of any responsibility for the deaths of those small children).  
No I will not bother you with the details of how I became addicted to licking rhino tusks while still attached to rhinos and began to ignore everything in my life for the chance to sneak up on a sleeping rhino and lick his tusk for the rush of adrenaline and cociquacin compounds  contained in a living rhino tusk or how during one of those rhino tusk licking session I awoke the rhino because my tolerance for cociquacin had gotten too high and I needed to substitute that drug for more adrenaline.  The rhino, of course, was mightily annoyed to find some Chech speaking weirdo licking his tusk and promptly gave me a big old banger on the forehead from which I awoke remembering no Czech and that I was indeed featherbeard!
No I will not bother you with these things, which may or not be true and are of no consequence either way, for I am here to tell you about our CONCERT on SUNDAY at HM157!
There are many exciting things happening there... so many that I will simply direct you to our fartbook page about it...
I can tell you that I will play some new songs and one of them has a curse word not allowed by the FCC in it..  I can tell you that DEAD WESTERN will also be playing and that LORD DOG BIRD will also be playing and that WESLEY DOLORIS will be comedianing and that MECCA VAZIE ANDREWS is running the whole thing and that FUTURE EYES is doing something with his glasses and that DJ SPARKLE is playing songs without a mouth!
It's gonna be early 4-8 PM
3110 N. Broadway
4-8 PM


Oh dears, we had some reviews from the record and I'd love to share them here for posterity!

And then there was this one, quite flattering, I might add!

Self-released LP available at

Be afraid. Be very afraid. Father Yod has risen from the grave and dragged Tiny Tim back with him. Featherbeard is dressed in a, well, dress and standing inside a pentagram playing what appears to be a four-stringed miniature (toy?) guitar. It’s one of those old-fashioned gingham frocks and he’s wearing a crown of flowers on his head and a fake, waist-length beard, feathered throughout with what I’d swear were the Blackheart buttons that I printed up about 30+ years ago when I sold Joan Jett merch at tables at the back of the hall. Featherbeard has hand-written the lyrics and credits to the songs in the booklet that accompanies the album in a meticulous scrawl that is quite legible except for the fact that they form images of trees, eyeballs, and, presumably a self-portrait. He also seems to have invented his own phonetic spelling that’s equal parts Olde English, childish scrawl, and batshit crazy. And it’s, like, freaking me out, man.

            I offer all this backstory to try to come to terms with what I’m about to write… that Incantations is about the most fucked-up, freaked-out, hilarious, jawdroppingly weird set of music you’re gonna hear this year and possibly in your lifetime. Unless, of course, you still dig out that Ya Ho Wha 13 13-CD box set (God and Hair) every once in a while and pinch yourself to convince yourself you’re not going insane. Janis Ian once wrote a song called “Insanity Comes Quietly To The Structured Mind” and boy does that make a whole lot of sense now that I’ve heard Incantations. This is like Manson-meets-Andy Kaufmann and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry, although I think (hope) Featherbeard won’t mind if do both.

The ear-piercing screech that opens the album is soon accompanied by Featherbeard’s strumming and then…a voice that sounds like it belongs in the pulpit sturming und dranging like Gregory Peck rehearsing his Ahab lines. This, my friends, is just the tip of the iceberg of what lies within. It’s called ‘Ile ride a nue Animull to Nohorizonland’ [Note: all spellings have been triple-checked for accuracy!] and it’s set to a dirgy funeral crawl backing to emphasize the journey to enlightenment that Featherbeard has embarked upon. It all started in a New Orleans cemetery… but I’m getting ahead of myself. This is followed by the sweetest little folk tune (‘Wales sing to fiend there Love’) with an operatic chorus that could have been sandwiched into those minstrel tunes in Bergman’s Seventh Seal or proffered up to the Wicker Man. This one ends with Featherbeard breaking into a meowing fit like a cat in heat.

            The fun continues with the rather Pythonesque ‘Grone of a mitey Appal Seed, you Cannibel’ – like Zappa challenging Stanshall to a Freak Off At The Freaker’s Ball. Oh, it gets better! If you pulled out your old Father Yod, Wild Man Fisher, Mothers, Residents, Dr Hook, Bonzos, Pythons, Moondog, and, yes, Tiny Tim albums and tested your audience’s patience in an all-night listening session-cum-contest to determine the freakiest weirdo ever let loose in a recording studio, Featherbeard would win hands down. No contest. I mean, I haven’t even mentioned the honest-to-goodness creepiest shitstorm I’ve heard in ages, ‘menstreul melidy, a campfire seen’ because I can’t believe I just typed that. And, yes, Featherbeard is playing off the inherent Beavis & Butthead snicker-value of “minstrel” and “menstrual”, but I’ll leave it to you to decide where his interests lie. Possible hint: he couldn’t quite bring himself to list this track on the album sleeve!

            Druggy wordplay is also at the heart of the rather sprightly ‘The Songe befour the next Songe is the best”, a Tom Lehrer-ish folk ditty. Now, I love the Incredible String Band as much as the next gal, but even they wore my patience to the bone a few times, and all I can say about ‘lifely dethly aftirdethly’ is that the dogs in the neighborhood were baying at the moon throughout it’s nearly seven minutes of cantankerous vocal affectations … and it was the cloudiest night of the year.

So, OK, a little of this, (well, maybe more than a little) has to be a put on…kitsch for kitsch sake. But Featherbeard is serious in his attempts to rattle our cages and awaken us from our complacent listening habits that allow the likes of Lady Gaga to top the charts. And I applaud that Beefheartian stance on his part. And a lot of this is extremely well played. The childlike (not childish) melodies are sometimes quite solemn (‘die Tier fressen Moovie Staars’) … sometimes achingly heartbreaking. And listen to the lyrics (rather than trying to unravel the jigsaw puzzle goosechase they pursue in the booklet) and you’ll discover a melancholic soul who suffers the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune just like the rest of us mortal toilers. He even offers us a wink of hope on ‘We bid yuo live liver live’ (a second song omitted from the tracklisting.) But then he ends this quite unsettling experience with the gloom and doom of ‘wat will yuo were to yuor Funeril’. Except it’s the softest, prettiest song in the set. Light, dancey, trip-the-light-fantastic, softshoe shuffle stuff like Al Jolson used to sing. So go figure. I’ll leave with another musical cross reference and direct your attention to the title of the last Lucky Bishops album: Unexpect The Expected. If ever an album deserved to be played thrice before listening, this be it. Featherbeard claims that he found his calling after passing out in a New Orleans cemetery after one too many fried pickle po-boys and an overabundance of beer. A word to the wise should be sufficient.

(Jeff Penczak) Ptolemaic Terrascope November 2013

And finally a little blurb from KJFC:

Thanks to all the music journalists, DJs, and music lovers out there.  We know you work hard and that even some of the meaner writers are still good people down deep!  Kisses!

Record Release show 

We're happy to say that the record release show has been confirmed to be taking place at the Besant Theosophical Lodge in Beachwood Canyon on October 13 at 7 PM following the fantastic lecture by Maja D-Aoust, the White Witch of L.A., which begins at 6 PM.  The concert will be free and there will be free food and drinks.  We're excited to have Bloody Death Skull joining us as well; they've promised something special and we can't wait to see what it is.

Featherbeard debut album "Incantations" out October 15, 2013 

 Holla dear friends,

I'm taking time out now from my undertaking of reading Shelby Foote's Civil War trilogy, a 3,000+ page epic (and they are big pages), to tell you about Featherbeard's debut album.

Recorded in Beverly Hills, CA on a reel to reel tape machine it will be released on vinyl and digital formats October 15, 2013 in the Los Angeles area and across the world, wherever they will have it.  Incantations features mountain dulcimer, baritone ukulele, a mahogany guitar, the chorded zither (also known as autoharp) and of course, his voice. Samba drums, upright bass, sirenic backing vocals, and pump organs fill out the recording beautifully and pay homage to the music of the past and the music of the future. The present, if one exists, is the only place this music has trouble sitting down in and this is a point of pride for Featherbeard, knowing that he will never have to look back on an old photo of himself when he had a trendy haircut and remark with some tone of exasperation, “Oh! The 80s! I can't believe I ever made such a decision as that!”

We will also be having a record release picnic show in Griffith Park's Old Zoo, Sunday, October 13, around 4 PM with Bloody Death Skull just confirmed.  Records will be available for a discounted price of $10 and they include a free download with extra tracks not featured on the vinyl.

Here's a track from the forthcoming album:


Elect Yourself 


I am writing to tell you about our amazing election show and to invite you! First, we are calling it "Elect Yourself" because we will have spent the day electing other people to positions of power to make decisions about the world around us and want to recognize our own part in the creation of reality. Political force is undeniably a force in the world, even if the world is complete illusion, because to some extent, we buy into or play along with the illusion simply by continuing to breathe. If we compare reality to a crystal we may focus that crystal upon the political realm and it repeats in the fracturing glass seemingly infinitely, we can feel trapped in it or supported by it, but its effects are undeniable; we may also shift the crystal to another angle, though, and see the world through entirely different eyes, in a place where no trace of political power can be seen. What I am trying to say is that we live our lives with many ideas about reality and how it is made, we accept ideas and human-historical figures like democracy or fascism or Ulysses S. Grant or George Bush and feel that they are real and we are the powerless subjects of our own time; but there are also zones of our lives that these historical figures or political ideas are absent, in which we have complete control in the sculpting of our own lives. We experience the world through our own senses and our own thoughts and these senses and thoughts may touch on political or corporate power at times, but they may also find places in which no outside influence penetrates and we are the singular creators of our own experiences, feelings, and lives. Song is a brilliant tool we have to create small bubbles of this personal reality and is a liberating force for us people. Within a fully realized song we may experience the world inside of a liberating womb, for the rest of the world, our worries and hopes, drift away and we can exist in that single moment without the distractions of any looming external force.

I will stop here and save the growing essay for a more appropriate realm, but I hope some of the sentiment of these ideas has come across in these words. I want to invite you to our womb November 6, 2012, beginning at 8 PM and going until very late. If you feel that you need to sit in front of a TV and watch the numbers change, come out after that's all done. If you want to avoid the stress and apprehension that some of you may feel doing so, come out early. Most importantly, if you want to celebrate your own power as the author of your life, and not as the subject of many other authors, come and join us!

I know I send out these messages every once in a while and I don't know what influence they have over attendance of the programs we put on, but I do hope you will consider coming out to this show, a lot of amazing voices and people will be here to share their talents and energies for you.

November 6, 2012
Dilettante Gallery
120 N. Santa Fe
Los Angeles 90012


A new kidney for Shaman Durek 

Hello again,

And we would like to get to know you once more, be your private little re-conaissant spies, looking into all the little cracks and cavities in you to see what we can see.

A friend has to fill a cavity and he's got the putty to do it. Shaman Durek has to get his sister's kidney into his body. As we have all very well experienced, our bodies are some of the most exclusive clubs in town, if you aren't as small as a protein cell, a vitamin, or a germ, it is very hard to enter--excluding of course certain magical bestial feats of bodies some of us may or may not have seen on the internet window. There is a white army of doormen and even more challenging is that each being that would make it his goal to enter this club of clubs would have to fit ever-so exactly into his proper place. And so the spy should serve as our model of entry, here! What I want to say is that Shaman Durek needs some doctors to make an entry into his body where there is none, a sort of lifting of the iron curtain of the skin, so to speak. And then they need to, while nobody is looking, replace the current kidney with a benevolent impostor, an identical understudy, a kindred kidney!

Imagine: your nation has been thriving under the guidance of a benevolent dictator, she has brought life, love, and peace to your once chaotic and underachieving land. Only 15 years into her reign, she grows ill. But the people don't know it. They also don't know that she has a twin sister born 6 years later who shares the same vision, the same intellect and the same wondrous heart. But she has been living in France for the past ten years because she likes the cheese there very very much. But she doesn't like the cheese quite as much as she likes the well-being of her homeland. So she must, through the techniques of the most brilliant and well-intentioned of spies enter into her sister's seat, take her name, and continue to see her homeland thrive; and the people, the corpus, must never know, for they would not trust a woman who had lived in France just for great cheese to run their nation! And so she grows her stately dictator's moustache and through the learned men and women of "Knowing you again" get him over the border and into her ailing sister's seat.

SO what is this all about? We would like to use the technique or re-conaissance to get to know you again. And the paper your present for this meeting would go to the men and women who would get Shaman Durek's body to get to know his sister's kidney, again as if it were the first time all over again! And so we are playing a concert with many other people this Saturday to help pay the doctor spies to perform this biological magic trick.

SEE the actual information for the day of performance here:
We play 8 PM sharp!
Madera Design Studios
1503 S. Central Ave.
Downtown Los Angeles, 90021

Your little money can help save a life, strangely enough!

Morning Berds 

Death will die again and here's our video proof:

And if you're interested in some behind the scenes action, here's the man behind the beard unplucked:

Have you seen featherbeard? 

Where did he go?  Months have passed and no sign has materialized.  Have rent prices driven him out of the public spotlight to a more affordable dimension?  Say the 3rd or even the 2nd?  Somewhere like Arkansas?  or Montana?

Last two places he was seen, he was playing a Dave Matthew's cover song, lying down in a compost pile rich with manure and making a snow--excuse me, a poo--angel!  "Satellite in my eyes like a diamond in the skies, how I wonder..." And I wonder, has the quest for fame and fortune lead him to desperation?  Could he have mistaken the richness of the manure for a pile of gold?  Could he be atop a landfill, rolling around laughing maniacally, "Mine!  All mine!" picking up the degraded materials and tossing them into the air, watching their arc like the arc of the golden sun above us filling his head with illusions of grandeur, this gold fever that brought Icarus and Phaethon falling back to the earth, little failed rockets?  We can only conjecture here since this search could lead us over land and sea, but also could lead us through the many layered worlds of the spirits.

But as we begin this case we have a couple of tracks to investigate.  First, a video has come out from Sammy Loren, multi-lingual guitar player and bamboozler extraordinaire, which looks like it may be a spec commercial for Home Depot.  Maybe they had caught the advertising bug and figured that if they can't beat them, they might as well join them.  This would further support the theory that featherbeard has become lost in his quest for wealth and fame...

And the second clue we have is that his song "waieghtienge foure the whiete Maan" was used on some fancy schmancy fashion website called for a couple of real wierdos who like to prance around their house in fancy schmancy clothes pretending they too are members of the leisure and wealth class!

Whatever has happened, I am sure we will soon know as this traveler cannot stay in one place too long.  If you have any information as the the whereabouts of featherbeard, please let us know through this site.

Thank you,
site manager at

Aloe Again Or 

 As the summer arrives ever so slowly here in Los Angeles, we look to our succulents for a little wisdom and a little moisture.  I have burned my feet, my poor Victorian white feet, as soft as a geisha's ass skin; now they glow a soft and resonant pink.  I don't know if this is synesthesia or not, but there are certainly rays and waves emanating from my little burned patches of skin.

And so we look to the Aloe, so tough and alone, never have I seen an aloe dance with another.  And this loneliness makes the aloe strong, fierce and self-sufficient.  But just beneath their hard exterior lies a great gift to those who have not their epidermal fortification; I speak of white people, the weakest creature in the face of wild nature, armed only with his mind and his mastery of technology.  This unnatural survivor, so distant from the aloe forces a dance and what a soothing waltz it is.  As I rub the aloe juice on my burned softness, my singed virgin flesh, my feet feel lighter than air, I float through this life on a cool breezy, my hips swaying in the wind as some lazy hammock of a creature.  And I dance with my aloe, spinning and turning and lilting upon the breeze, we join and delight in our nonsensical union, a peach and an armadillo promenade into the night sky, smiling and laughing at our breath and its in and out.