The PK 27 -- Track 12

Love like Semtex, by the Infadels

Once in a while, I come across a song that I enjoy for no definite reason, which is to say that I find music to be an organic experience of the six senses; the sixth sense being the mystical, ‘I can’t precisely express my affection for something, but I know that I adore it.’ The Infadels have accomplished the not-so-small feat of tickling my spider sense for endearing melodies, and a big portion of my frail psyche wants to toss out a ‘just because’ for rationale. Some learned critics would decry my laughable inadequacy, and in an effort to satiate their bloodlust (and, coincidentally, punish you, vaunted readers) I shall endeavor to properly elucidate my accolades.

First things first; this song, Love like Semtex, should have been the first track of our illustrious debut album, but Sparkles recently sent me a vituperative, if not wholly inappropriate, e-mail warning me against such action*. This nefarious remonstration included the phrase ‘death by boom-boom,’ succinctly emphasized by an affixed photo of idealjetsam looking particularly libidinous, which is enough to make a con man go straight, a gay guy go hetero, and a righteous man walk the path of the wicked.

While I am perfectly willing to grant you, dear reader, the wisdom to discern that I am neither (flaming) gay, nor particularly wicked, perhaps we should presume that I am a bit of a charlatan, but on this splendid eve I shall come clean (as it were), if only to avoid the decidedly penetrating wrath of Sparkles’ Premier Assassin. In the spirit of things, I’m going to share ten random truths with you, all of which encapsulate the notion of love which predominates the typhoon that is Psychedelic Kimchi and its relationship to Love like Semtex.

1. A few years back, beneath in the neon glaze of Itaewon, the Kimchi Krew witnessed TMH wrestle a pig, albeit a deceased one. Corpse or not**, the use of folkstyle wrestling takedowns was befitting of the passion that Big T has for the sport itself, and the chokehold performed was, ironically, one of love unbound.

2. I once spread some of the sauce from a Taco Bell Baja Gordita (one of the company’s palatable signature items) upon a woman’s breasts, and proceeded to feast upon her delectable figure. I’ll spare you the woman’s name, except that it began with an ‘M’, and that it rhymed with the word semtex. It wasn’t the healthiest of relationships, but there was an abundance of hot sauce, so the price of admission*** was justified.

3. In the late eighties, idealjetsam and I went to see a Boston concert, in Connecticut of all places. Brad, Tom, and the rest of the gang were in top form -especially during their perennial hit Amanda, which ushered forth an adrenaline rush the likes of which most skydivers can only dream about- and left us breathless. The performance of Feelin’ Satisfied remains one of the most dramatic moments of my life. At several points throughout the song, Mr. Delp commanded the audience to ‘put your hands together, yeah c’mon, put your hands together’ and we, the people, took his suggestion to heart, just in different ways. I thought the words meant to clap my hands profusely, while IDJ thought it implied that he should grab other people’s hands in an effort to feel satisfied. A bit traumatic, but that’s when I learned that IDJ is pure, explosive emotion, and it’s best not to rile him up (unless you’re into being manhandled).

4. Did you know that I am on vacation? What’s more, I shouldn’t give a shit about Sparkles’ censure, even though I’ve lost at least thirty hours of quality REM sleep trying to master my fear of it. So let Love like Semtex be track twelve hundred for all I care. “Love just doesn’t come first in life, unless you’re addicted to cocaine.”****

5. I once auditioned for the role of Mayday in Roger Moore’s final contribution to the James Bond franchise, A View to a Kill. In the final round of the selection process, I lost out to Grace Jones, because she agreed to participate in a love scene with Mr. Moore, while I remained firm in my objection on the grounds that it was morally reprehensible. They refused to allow full frontal nudity in the film, and they had expected me to merely simulate copulation. The director also dismissed my proposal to insert a scene in which Christopher Walken slaps the Russian girl around with a severed elephant trunk. Strike three, gentlemen, and the final product bore the price of my departure.

6. Just a few moments ago, I mentioned using Taco Bell as an aphrodisiac of sorts, but I’d like to set the record straight, inasmuch that the woman noted previously was not the same one that enjoyed eating CheezUms until she vomited (well, to be honest, it was probably more of a regurgitation if anything). Seriously, whence would I have developed such a penchant for Pringles? Her name began with an ‘S’ (-atan), and she had darker hair than the other lady. They were totally different people, and only the latter adored my act of ejaculating upon her backside whilst she coughed up orange-colored, gelatinous goo. If that doesn’t scream Psychedelic Kimchi, I don’t know what would.

7. The Head on the Door is a fantastic, nay, lovely album, and I don’t even like the Cure that much. Actually, Disintegration was pretty cool as well, but you get the idea. Thanks for making such a fine suggestion back in '86, mom.

8. Getting back to Kimochi for a minute, it seems as if there is a sizable portion of Psychedelic Kimchi’s readership which finds our adulation of the feminine form to be distasteful at best. To the mothers, daughters, sisters, wives, feminists, effeminate men, gorillas, hardcore troubadours, and Michelle Branch fans of the world: we understand, we deserve your ‘shame on you boys’ scorn, and we have only three prurient souls to share between the six of us, but that’s just the way we were made -especially Kermo- and we have no intention of making genuine apologies. Sure, Denz will throw out a plastic olive branch at times*****, and I’ll give some lip service to regretting my cavalier lifestyle (kissing babies, cutting ribbons at shopping mall openings, drinking lepers’ bath water, etc.) but you know that we’re just telling you what we’d like to tell ourselves when drunk (which is less than never). Proclivity like semtex.

9. Halloween, 2006. If you were there, you’d know, but as an abridgement: one guy got lucky, one man was set upon the path of freedoom, and several people were subject to a cannonade of delightful deception that spanned across the weekend in its entirety. Best of all, neither of the gentlemen had to dress up as anything other than their charming, insouciant selves.

10. Love like Semtex, or 100% Psychedelic Kimchi? I’ll let you be the judge.



デジタル・ラブ

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* Love like Semtex wouldn’t really set up the second track (Fuckin’ in the Bushes) all that well, actually, so blame Denz.

** It may have been the bloated carcass of a prostitute, but you know how fuzzy memory can become over the years.

*** Three fiddy-nine, and a whole lotta blotto.

**** Corinthians, 2:13

*****By having his picture taken with cute dogs, for example.