Ratgum Records is so happy to bring you this deluxe vinyl edition of PUNKS ON MARS' SELF TITLED DEBUT. PUNKS ON MARS has been making noise for some time now but this is the definitive poptart statement from the artist known as punk. Laugh as beethoven rolls in his grave at the pop satire of PUNKS on MARS. This release comes highly recommended. //INCLUDES A TEEN DREAM POSTER for your bedroom! go to http://ratgumrecords.com to bring a punk home!
This summer's hottest teen slasher dreamfest has hit trashy B movie theatres nationwide: DREAM LOVER. And critics are screaming four stars in delight. Something is amiss with the new girl and your punky classmates are spewing sludge in your daydreams. Try not to flirt because you'll probably wind up on a date in hell's food court with the demoness herself. Turn out the lights and hold on to your boyfriend, DREAM LOVER IS HERE.
DIRECTED BY/STARRING: MELISSA WYNNE Popular Music Soundtrack/Score by: PUNKS ON MARS "Dream Girl" performed by Ranch feat. Punks on Mars
Surge Radio #1, Mars: 3:17am. These were the only recovered segments of last night's broadcast, sent from a hacked Blackberry in Surge City, Mars. For those of you who don't know, Surge City, Mars is a haven for low-life, gel-huffing, pierced perverts that have nothing better to do than listen to the punk music, get tattoos and suck up the planet's artificial atmosphere. Studies show that rats, exposed to this noise continuously over 45 minutes grew metal spikes, black leather dermis and secreted draino™. Expat recording artist, Ryan Howe known for work with the so-called Punks ✠n Mars, is said to have produced these tracks with a street-glitter backing band in Surge City. Howe himself, though not seen by earthling eyes in over 2 years, has undergone mutations similar to those seen in the lab rats. We present this excerpt for educational purposes only! Proceed to these online novelty shops (here or here) to purchase all 36 minutes of this transmission on professionally recorded cassette.
A final faded transmission from the Celebrity Rehab Center located in the heart of Neo Bk, 20 stories underground at the Camo® Hunting Galleria, Arcade and Grill or something. Rom was molting live, and his flag-decked leather was weaving unions with his own tissue as he waxed doggerel re selling yr soul and yr skulls. He's finishing a new audio novella/exospective/record/whatever called Techno Punk in Drag or Spirit of Romance or something and this raw wet footage finds CH demonstrating some of that for us. Some say "wow", others leave because they are having a panic attack. So come see the ROM and the Punks On Mars and other wild flowers deliver these experiences in realtime at the Ratgum and RomCom HQ slash altburban sunhut, THIS SATURDAY(tomorrow). I will drive you. This video goes out to you. The song is called "(Just Tell Em) Give U A Break", and my number is 678-362-1210.
OMG. Finally. My hair's totally been acting up since I first decided to deliver this, but right now my nodes are locked in and hooked up and my softer flesh is dancing for gratification. Please help me attain harmony with some gratuitous indulgence and a sensual response. So this is like a small part of a so-soon-coming megadocument/album-datum; time 2 get soaked or get lost. Ein zwei LIEBE LIEBE! Night On Fire by CH-Rom
We slow danced til' the last of the draino-spiked punch was gone and stared in the mirror til' clock struck midnight. One of a thousand ways to say "I love you." But only in dreams...
Scream Queen Melissa Wynne brings us a taste of bittersweet gumdrop from her directorial debut, "DREAM LOVER". Powerpop teen idols RANCH provide the gum, guitar queen Ryan Howe of the PUNKS on MARS twittles the knobs and flies in signature guitar graffiti. Stay tuned for more horror romantics from THE SCREAM QUEEN and a full length record from RANCH. (FOOTAGE TAKEN FROM "DREAM LOVER")
THE METAL GURU OF PLAINVIEW HIMSELF, appeared live to serenade the court of the punk queen at new york's famed Liberace Theatre. Here's the surveillance footage:
Geist comes right to yr domecile with customized made-for-livingroom frequencies; another sticky gem spun from the roof of their Brooklyn cabin and captured in full one-track monoreel glory. That's right, it only takes one channel for these gentle gentlemen to get their feelings across; and men they may be, but the spirit has no gender, and the voice has no single origin. When the overexciting deathsex revolution sets in, Geist will be performing atop the tallest most erect urban structure to transmit the heartbeat of the deepest lowestdown soils and oils. Ugly Face® is the night's host, and he's serving up some fine-form 2011 Geist splatter with "Vicious Love". Enjoy, or die. Vicious Love by CH-Rom
Dear friend and collaborator The Chris Rice accompanied me on a spiritually refreshing tour of the Jackie Robinson parkway. The sight of Oakwoods, Lovebirches and Dogdingles rushing by at 130mph gave me chills and goosepimples right up and down my face. Paying a close and deep attention to the road, I indulged my recently credit-loaned Oculomod® range-adjustable periphery vision to catch The Chris sweating rose water and ceaselessly writhing and contorting his limbs as he filled the space of his seat in a deeply perverse manner; his back arched and his body forming a perfect half-crescent, convex with chest out, he appeared pregnant with alien life. Through all this, the Chris held his video recorder rockfirm, and with my steady wheel hand keeping us straight and pretty, we were on our way to a rich harvest. Where the mundane in heated passion meets with the maniacal, and paradise is offered up every 1 and 1/4 miles, where dreams recede ever deeper into the cosmic wastebin of our collective psyche, the Jackie Robinson sprawls out invitingly like a gargantuan meowcat, beckoning you to scatter yr aching burning visions along its purring ridges. Need and wanton desire bear many of us out onto this pilgrimage weekly and daily, so watch these visions close, as they may be yr own.
Step into Madame Tussaud's Wax on Mars, the museum of counterfeit celebrity and epxeriMENTAL plastic ego enhancement. Here my likeness will live on for all time, GLITTER ON MARS: ears still ringing from the encore, my manager inserts a final tab of synthetic adrenaline, "For your appearance on Mars @ Nite, " he says. "Lets go, the transport is waiting. Here," he hands me a tablet, "rehearse your lines. You'll be asked about your blood type, your favorite date spot in the colony, your new single, and....let's see....your new line of latex." The industry found that Living Tissue™ stars required far less upkeep than earlier AnimaPoptronics ™ models and holoprojections are totally passe. And uhh wait, what was I saying?
PUNKS ON MARS MADAME TUSSAUD OVERDRIVE 7"
COMING SOON IN LIMITED SUPPLY! Own your piece of history.
Installment the Third and Final of local (to the net and all provinces) dj Rom_Com's Sensationals® trilologie is here. Here's high hopes to you jacking all night long. A digital cheers to the datum that makes you scream. Get it and give a shout if you want the identity of the harvested personae. This one is for the hardcore dependents---all of you out there who need that groove to move, who crave the beat to bleat, basically anybody who needs more peak for yr tweak. This is a mix of body and mind, environment and spirit, bubble and rip, grub and grip, and it's been specially designed for work and workout bike alike. Remember to always to jack hard and never be afraid to dance on all fours.
Finally. The moment someone, somewhere may have been waiting for... It's totally here... Mind Rippers. The object of affection is the self-titled and self-sustaining powerproject trio of the prince of Punks On Mars, the ravishing Rom, and lighting ray aka 'Speculator', whose humble LA abode hosted these glimmering, glammering, hammering jams. We had to hack the Mainframe of Discovery in Echo Park to get the data happening here, and got voted three-way-tie-style number one in angel city for spontaneous corporate innovation. Barb says put that in yr skull and burn it.
Below, our beloved: one piece 'you' haven't heard yet, and one possibly familiar to our special bleeding heart fans out there. If you want the whole thing digitally, it's totally free you just gotta hit me up @ TEENAGECOP@GMAIL.COM and I'll send you the link; also hit me up if you want one of these beautiful looking/feeling tape copies, which are 'just' a cool 5 USD (7 for international orders).
The flesh cries out as the soul burns, digital mountains of the mind a-glow with fevershakes and 3D raunchola. It's the middle of the night and somebody just popped in one of the latest special deliveries from local net favorite trans-spiritualist houser dj Rom_Com. The sultan of sensual, the colossus of claps, the homebrew king, the one and only-infrequently-cloned....human populace, rejoice because the netscape is aflame and you will never feel cold again. This is the first and second in trilologie of body-mind-soul-oriented mixes, intended for housin yr body and housin yr whole being. Also great for driving hard, for boosting mom's ride and reaching liftoff speed en route to a blindfolded Battle:BK screening (the audio is tremendous). Unlike other alleged mixes on which you may have spent your hardearned time, these give back beyond yr investment. No samples or small taste to offer, this is a straight-to-brain release. Suffice it to say that Evelyn is king and you have to jack as well as you type. To grip, just 'download' below, and if you want the informatics, just hit me up @t TEENAGECOP@gmail and I'll spill my guts.
The Pleasure: The Hawk has landed, the Halen is in position, ten-four. Everyone has fireworks coming out of their chests like with the new video; they say it's "Panic in Plainview Park", "the new naughty 4 NY", "a rancid racket" and all the rest. Nobody does it like Ryán "Punks On Mars® Program" 3D blasting a seven string dooky shred, and Raunchy Rancid Rom-CH torching the beats and sirens. Like breaking through the walls to beat the alarm at yr local SoftStop® mnemonic software distributor, getting what's in the master register AND nabbing a new Dextro® synglove——this piece is an outrageous feeling, a thing that explodes inside, a great sensation you didn't know you were waiting for. This song is about balance, during night missions and in life in general.
The Business: The digital whole of the soundtrack to the film REALTIME'S RUSH is available for totally-free, AND its physicalized form, a beautiful !CHEAP! TAPE! is available for yr consumption at a modest rate of 5 USD [total] SOOOOOOO: if you like what u hear above and want a tape, just email [teenagecop@gmail.com] and or p**pal me for that 5 usd (it includes shipping and all that). If you don't wanna drop any virtual payola, then you can also just mail me up for the digital> for totally-FREE.
Transmission 2 any consuming riders out there: If you want a Rider's Choice tape, all you need to do is send a message and/or poopal 5 USD to this synthetic address: TEENAGECOP@GMAIL.COM If you want the whole thing digitally for totally FREE, then just message me up and I will send you a link lickity split with either the tracks split up discman-appropro style, or in two long parts, ala the sides of the tape [your choice which, duh].
I hope you choose the choice and celebrate the chance to deep relate on the cybernetic interstate. Communicate with the teenage cop, and enjoy another piece of the transmission if you don't already have the whole datum: Ride On [excerpt] by CH-Rom
Call it a delivery, from the vom swan, priced at 7 trillion credits to the New Digital Republic plus half your available memory (childhood and prior); other offers available through myomnivaluation, a new online payservice that can exchange any portion of your soul for a generous administration of ego spam. I'd buy that for a dollar!
****Rom, in commitment to enervation and oversaturation, spreads the swan's wings in a grand media dump that harkens hope for the damaged and over-synsexed cyber ID. This is a message straight from the core of the mirage, to all you screen suckers taking deep rips off your 256 million tone displays and suffering the metallic taste left over from all that googlejam psychedelic shrapnel. Feast yr crusty eyes on this wasteheap of teary tales and sentimental slopjobs that says WE'RE NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE with a straight face. Rider's Choice is the new data reel from CH-Rom, and it's a compendium of songs about leaving the nets, breaking yr sociopathological-promotional ties, and hitting the road. Burn yr debit card for fuel and head out to where the pavement turns to the matrix of the mind. My next post will explain how to ask, beg, trade, and offer credits for this product. For now, a piece [web-friendly, work-safe]:
