LIFE IN A BLENDER
celebrates the release of their 10th album:
Bent by the Weather

On Fang Records

For over 30 years, Life In a Blender has been the canvas for singer and songwriter Don Ralph's blackly comic landscapes. The group has released albums ranging from screaming punk to orchestrated chamber pop, and has brought the high theatrics of its live act to stages from Berlin to Austin to Toronto to Brooklyn and Seattle.

10pm to midnight
$20 suggested.
Very strong suggested
Pay now online or in person that night

And here is what LIAB's kapellmeister Don Rauf has to say about their new record":

It was a long labor but the stork finally delivered this squalling brood of songs. In the spring of 2020, when the president tried to kill us all, we locked ourselves in our houses, and wrapped our heads in beautiful fabrics that saved our lives.

During that time, Don stayed in the basement. He would peek out daily and greet the same blackberry bushes with a small wave. But somehow it wasn’t enough—so he turned to the piano and said, “It’s hard to say some of these things out loud, but in you, I see more than blackberry bushes. In you...why…I see...” His voice trailed off. Don bowed his head and went silent. The air was thick as a phonebook.

“Don’t be shy,” Don whispered, edging toward the piano. “Here, let me show you how to disrobe.”

In moments, Don stood naked before the piano. Like a loosely strung together bucket of greasy fried chicken parts.

The piano took in this tableau. “It was like a Botticelli come to life!” was the phrase one might imagine floating in the air at that moment.

What happened next, no one planned. But soon the two were impregnating each other.

The piano delivered several songs that you will hear on Bent by the Weather.

One of the songs—Place at the Table— sends me back several years ago to when my father was alive. He was in his 90s. His dementia had gotten worse. I would come and visit him at the facility. A facility for people just like him. Like all of us will be one day.

He would usually recognize me. But one time when I asked him, “Do you know who I am?”, he answered, “Yeah, my father.”

Well, that wasn’t right. But was he really wrong? Aren’t kids supposed to become their fathers? Maybe that’s what was happening?

On one of my visits, an aide came around. It was time for the afternoon group activity.

The aide took my father in a wheelchair. Down the hall. To a big room. The air conditioner putting out a steady wind but light as a kitten’s fart.

The aide fit my old dad into a tight circle of other formerly young and vibrant people in wheelchairs. Dad was a great kind man. Served in World War II. Painted beautiful watercolors. Worked for much of his career as an electrical engineer at IBM.

“Are you ready?” asked the aide to the circle. The question came out a strained spray of cheer and optimism that could not clear the heavy cloud of despondency in the room...and in the building….and in the surrounding area.

A balloon, not quite lighter than air, was introduced into the circle. No instructions were spoken. It was just understood. Circle members began hitting the balloon to each other. A light pat here. A light pat there. All in silence. Pat...pat...pat. Etcetera. Pat...pat...pat. And so on.

Just the pats and the sound of the curious air conditioner.

All in slow motion. Or so it seemed.

For me, sitting there watching, a single minute became an hour. After two minutes, it felt like the entire day had passed. By minute 3, winter had come. “But it was just summer a minute ago!?” I thought. Time was slowing down to a standstill yet somehow my aging process was speeding up.

This spell, however, was broken when, from the circle of balloon pats, my father turned his head to look for me.

His pleading eyes locked on my darting, trying-to-escape eyes. His eye message was clear. They said, “Is this all I get? Is this all I get? After all the years and all the sweat?”

And from that message written directly on my father’s eyes was born the song “Place at the Table.”

In that song—one of 11 on Bent by the Weather— you will also hear how my old dad would enter a more joyous life at night when he would fall asleep. When asleep, he’d enter a rich dream life. I would often hear him talking merrily from his bed.

It was never quite clear what he was saying. It was all mutter, mutter, but with laughter and singing mixed in. It often sounded like he was at a great party.

His dream life seemed to be a wonderful escape from the grey, confusing, sometimes frightful world of the Awake.

You will be able to live the experience exactly when you listen to our new album Bent by the Weather.

We recorded most of the foundational tracks for this album under the quizzical gaze of Danny Blume at his far-from-uncomfortable studio Hidden Quarry—hidden in plain sight among some bushes in upstate New York.

When these various components—born of Blume—were completed, a midnight carriage delivered them directly to Al Houghton in his Dubway laboratory. Houghton placed them on a gurney, raised them toward the lightning-filled sky— bringing each monster hit to life.

In the final stages, Scott Anthony of Storybook Sound applied the mastering grease, which makes the whole album digestible for human ears.

When listening to Bent by the Weather, we encourage you to applaud the drummings of Ken Meyer, the bassmanship of Mark Lerner, the guitar-itude of Al Houghton, the 10-finger pileup of Dave Moody on both guitar and cello, and the bowings and pluckings that jump from Rebecca Weiner Tompkins’s’s pail of violins.

Also, we ask you to applaud extended patches on the album devoted to some heavy-duty horn-on-horn action. Although they were never invited to play on this album, the Colony Collapse Horns go by the names Kevin Moehringer (trombone), Jackie Coleman (trumpet), and Cheryl Kingan (saxophone).

We also thank one shy horn player who prefers to live almost motionless in the shadows— Brian Culver, who delivered the Oscar-winning solo on the song “Hole in the Sky.”

We further find ourselves having to dispense gratitude to the luminous Susan Hwang and the carbon nanotubes that make up Chris Rael. Both contributed to “Bent by the Weather” in ways that are difficult to explain.

And let’s not forget Ed Pastorini who made dirty on the piano.

Thank you again for making room between your ears for these latest songs, and letting them nest in your brain.

10pm to midnight
$20 suggested.
Very strong suggested
Pay now online or in person that night