for some reason this reminds me of club amorous...

man i fucking miss chemlab.... loved them in the 90's so much.. a buddy of mine was at a concert and Jared put the mic down for him on this tune and he was singing it and it made it to one of the live videos!!!

Wonderfully rough. I always particularly loved the raw vocals and the synths that constantly chased, but could never quite catch themselves.

its great to hear these songs in their raw form.. love it!! please.. MORE!

Man, I've been listening to this song, for way too long (got into Chemlab back in 95).  Nice to hear these gems, even if you guys were doing more smck than music at the time! 
What are you working on these days musically Jared? I heard rumors about new Chemlab stuff at the live shows (wasn't able to make them) and curious about that or anything else you're doing these days.  Enjoy the Enduser collaboration!

This version of ‘Neurozone’ is an early cassette demo of tracks that emerged as we were writing Burn Out At The Hydrogen Bar. It’s from a collection of random cassette demos of varying quality I’ve unearthed and finally transferred to CD. I’m loosely calling it “Burnt Out (talkin’ shit and shootin’ smack)” ‘cause I’m such a fuckin’ intellectual and that’s really much more of what we ever did than actually write enough music to fill an album. 

Dylan was living in a ground floor apartment on 4th street sometime in the summer of ‘92 when we wrote this jagged little shard. The place was owned by a motorcycle freak whose real name I can’t remember for the life of me, but I used to call him Gear, so Gear he remains. Hidden behind a dented and grumpily resistant steel door that complained when opened, the joint was shockingly miniscule. Its size wasn’t helped by the fact that it was jacked full of strange heaps of machine parts, stacks of tires in corners and drums of oil against the back wall. Its two windows were perpetually curtained leaving the place cast in murky dark. We called it Dog Solitude in tribute. (We had an insane fabricated two-deck card game hybrid of poker, cheating and drinking we played in those days for which we applied the same sobriquet). Husks of motorcycles in different stages of either collapse or reanimation stood on blocks next to the hacked-short insult of a cigarette-burn halo’d couch in what was the main room, skeletal shapes casting skyline shadows across the greasy wooden floor boards. Dylan’s studio was his room, and his room was sweeping enough to accommodate bed and gear but nothing more. I spent a lot of time scrunched up beside the desk knotted in pensweatnotebookinkfever while D scribbled threads of 1’s and 0’s, the two of us passing headphones back and forth as the threads began to knit into something coherent. I dropped rough vocals standing on his bed and trying not to bounce....hehehe. The feel and sound of ‘Neurozone’ was very much infected and inflected by 4th street’s furiously active life. Originally a bay windowed room, the construction of Detox’s space meant that bed and studio essentially elbowed themselves out into the sidewalk, the world outside bleeding into it in a constant stream of street sounds, conversation shards excerpted through the window, sirens keening, radios blaring ballgames and gunshots barking in warm nights, an indecipherable omniverse pouring in in mangled, neon-sputtering spliced configurations. “There’s something moving on the other side, but what it is is not too clear”.

There will be more, but this is for now. This is for fallen friends and those who simply couldn’t go on any more, friends from then and friends from now, the ghosts who haunt my days, your days, our days. 
This is for Jamie Duffy and Craig Albertson and Bobby Ross and for Critter, just to start the list rolling.

Yes, you can download it.




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