Friday, June 8, 2012
The Importance of Being Fendersoned
The Dada critics and dubstep snobs who eat all the canapes at art openings and wiggle their pinkies at the Shock of the New will no doubt say that there is no longer call for a Fenderson in 2012. These are the people who have worn out their Zorn Tzadik welcomes, the kind who have not heard the extended 'Junkie Mom' mix on Soundcloud. Sisters and brothers, I am here to tell you that I visited the Fenderson homestead on the Fourth of July two not-so-long years ago, and was washed in the blood of the lamb, courtesy of improv percussion music from Amy Splitt and friends, and a patriotic reading by the campfire by some crazy-ass guy who Deral counts as A Friend.
If it isn't clear by now, I provide these testimonials as part of an infomercial to prod you to go over to Indiegogo and throw some money in the tip jar for the Fenderson Prescription Series. You are lucky enough to live in a universe in which Deral Fenderson exists. Don't blow this chance.