Now we're up to Uffie, who may be a known name to Bostonians since our own David Day brought her to light, but this mix is only halfway over and has simply been driving me insane all morning. Now a quarter to 10, I should be at work, but I am instead locked in my apartment, dancing all over my bedroom with this glorious, glorious hour and change of Sinden's set at The Rumble's one year party in Sweden. Uffie, Sinden, and DJ Feadz were all present, as well as various other DJs from all over Europe.
Ohhhh I hear it. I'm forty-five minutes in, and I can hear sprinkles of "We Share Our Mother's Health." The Trentemoller mix, no less! I was waiting for him to do something along those lines. Still, as much as I wait for eeevery DJ to drop The Knife in 2006, it pales this time around in comparison to some of the other insanity he's pulled in the first 40 minutes of the mix alone...another half hour to go.
Jesus.
Rather than repost, go straight to my source. I ain't gonna lie to you, baby.
*Edit - There! Between the 47 and 50 minute marks! This, my darlings, is the kind of stuff that makes me go wild...
10:39pm I'll elaborate on the Evens once I take my shoes off and get a cup of tea in me. Stand by...
8:19pm (err, Tuesday) This is exciting. Consisting of Ian MacKaye (Fugazi, Minor Threat, Mr. Dischord Records Himself, etc.) and Amy Farina of The Warmers have both settled into The Evens in a way that only icons of post-punk ever could. Many indie-folk duos exist nowadays with artists copying copies of copies despite their sincerity, but when you bring two great forces of the punk scene to their present, you're given something that transcends a lot of the mediocre. Lyrically and sonically, the two are challenging each other more on their latest release, Get Evens than on their charming self-titled from last year. Touring often, though, it's been difficult to see them, and they'll be playing at Mass Art once the weather gets too chilly for hoodies alone. It's unquestionably worthwhile to see them live, though, as they're veterans of a musical movement that took place in tumultuous moments in America's latter part of the twentieth century when punk was possibly at its steadiest (though perhaps not fulfilling the definition of "steady"). Go go go!
There are few things I will say I can do better than most, but making a pot of orgasmic coffee is no hyperbole. I have many times considered quitting coffee along with my other vices, but that day will never come. I love coffee beyond the drink itself, but am majorly bound to it by the fact that what I produce in my french press is something that would warm the heart of the pickiest addicts.
But enough of my love for coffee...that can go on forever and ever. This post began on Friday morning, but has taken me all the way to Sunday to completely simply because the weekend has been flooded with sleep, coffee, booze, and coffee. For these reasons, I bring you Death Before Decaf.
When armored with the craptastic weather of Boston as it gets colder and darker in addition to the inheritance of someone else's synths and keys, musicians that already have their fingers in countless other projects could easily create something that borders somewhere between the gag and the genius. Death Before Decaf, still in its infancy, is both by being neither entirely.
The best at mocking the Boston accent are the Bostonians themselves. I love it.
Post-Election Day, the dude I voted for governor has won, and packies will still be carrying all of your favorite booze. A few weeks ago, I'd copied and pasted a piece about "Question 1" (whether or not convenience stores and/or supermarkets could or should carry wine and beer) into a MySpace bulletin. To my embarrassment, the truth is that I read about the first three lines of the lengthy post before putting it up with the subject "Bring More Booze To Boston!" with the obvious implication of advocating Question 1.
WHOOPS!
I live in Mission Hill, so the booze runs plentiful, and already having a plethora of liquor stores and bars doesn't really elicit a reaction of "omfg we need Stop & Shop to have crap wine too!" The scare was that bringing wine and beer to convenience stores would have been big trouble for little mom n' pop shops.
My first and only real impression of 65daysofstatic is that Chris Clark is a big fan...and of Chris Clark, I am a very, very big fan. So really, how can you lose?
The quartet from Sheffield made a decent name for itself with their debut, The Fall Of Math. Their latest record, however, spans an interesting exploration of rock pairing with electronics, as the two samples from One Time For All Time are notably different on many levels. I'm on the fence!
I HAD THIS WHOLE GODDAMN POST ABOUT HOW AMAZING PRIESTESS WERE AT THE BOWERY BALLROOM THIS PAST SATURDAY.
But then JUST as I was about to hit publish, I QUIT my browser program.
CURSES!!!
So, hey, guess what...you'll never know just how awesome that band is. Nor will you hear about Vince Nudo's face-melting drum solo that reminisced Bonham's ever-famous "Moby Dick" solo. NOR will you hear about how they're actually NOT from Norway (Montreal), how they put crap like Wolfmother to shame, how they played "Blood" for the first time in NYC, and me namedropping Foufounes Eletriques. You won't hear about it because (a) you weren't there and (b) now I'm pissed.
My arrival to the CMJ Music Marathon was one without any bit of an itinerary. Getting lost in Queens (or rather, missing the Triborough exit and having to take the longer route back in to the bridge), I finally made my way downtown to begin my hunt. My friend was dead set on wanting to see The Horrors, and in my many checks on SPIN.com and the Village Voice, I'd been hearing more and more about the band.
Essentially, I was skeptical. Skinny boys with tight jeans and weird haircuts. Admittedly, the goth edge to their style put them in neutral territory for me, being that anything dark and/or brooding often stirs my pierced little heart. I went to their show, like Maritime's, without having heard any of their music, but I had nothing to work with as far as preconceiving their sound.
It was after 1am. I didn't have an ounce of alcohol in my body, and I just wanted to enjoy something. We'd arrived to the middle of The Photo Atlas' set, which I quickly started to love. Harboring that Saddle Creek noise, the singer sounded much like Oberst with his goatey vocal shakes, which were complimented by the lengthy dance-prog tangents that the band took hold of.
But the Horrors, ohhh the Horrors. If Nick Cave ruled the world and had five sons who all despised him for his forceful nature in raising them on musical training with the intentions of creating a Birthday Party/Bad Seeds-esque powerband, then the Horros are those very sons who, somewhere around 18 said "Hey FUCK YOU Dad! You don't know anything."
Tidbits: directed by Chris Cunningham / starring Samantha Morton. Holler.
So you can imagine my pleasant surprise when after voicing that opinion I came across two points in their press release: (a) instead of any deviation of the adjective rebellious, they were, in fact, described as "anti-parent," and (b) ready for this? Produced by Jim Sclavunos...who's history also extensively includes Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. As Borat would say, "high five!"
They were disgusting. They were absolutely insane in their screaming and yelling and occasional yelping. Their stances and expressions wavered from possessed by their own sound to trying too hard. They ranged from a surf rock sound on seas of blood red to a dance punk explosion that would happen if you mixed equal parts Faint and Woggles. They were impressive, but moreso in the way in that they grow on you like an addiction.
It was four days ago, and there's a feeling of withdrawal in my very bones.
"The individual has always had to struggle to keep from being overwhelmed by the tribe. If you try it, you will be lonely often, and sometimes frightened. But no price is too high to pay for the privilege of owning yourself." - Friedrich Nietzsche
Hungry?
At The Moment
SPRING, GODDAMMIT
final eps of LOST
Detroit-bound
School of Rock (Waldwick)
Cafe Margo
bike riding
Heavy Rotation
DJ Hell Body Language Vol 9
new Dead Weather album
Small Brown Bike Dead Reckoning
all things Dave Turov
"Aundy (Tanner Ross & Sergio Santos Remix)"
Optimogeddon
new Walter Schreifels album
Bowie Changesbowie
Demdike Stare "Forest of Evil (Dawn)"
Dinosaur - "Kiss Me Again"
