It Ain't A Party Until Some Dead Presidents Are Thrown In The Mix

Gil Mantera's Party Dream.

Purveyors of contradiction.

Images of neatly-coiffed Euro Fag boys dancing politely behind their synthesizers are immediately demolished by a barrage of two hard-drinking truck drivers dressed in leopard skin panties and tassles, performing calisthenics while singing into vocoders and playing bass guitars.

A synth-band on a blues record label. These are the guys who Depeche Mode met when they decided to get tattoos.

Gil Mantera's Party Dream are at once retro and modern. Ferocious and fun.

You haven't lived life until you've seen them on stage. Until that day, you are just another mechanized drone in the seabed of mundanity that passes for the music industry.

The album posted here is out of print and very difficult to find. It taps slightly into the excitement of experiencing the Party Dream as it's unfurling before the eyes of its onlookers, transforming them into participants whose goal is to make the Party Dream a living reality.

Live the Dream.

To go into Party Dream REM sleep mode, check out the Fat Possum Records release Blood Songs.