It's fine when we tease people with commentary on music we've heard before them. But when PopJustice does it to us? And when it involves Annie? My title speaks for itself.

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 09:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Hey, radio disc jockey/magazine or newspaper album reviewer: You know those promotional CD's you get* in the mail from record companies hoping that you'll hype their product?

Well, turns out that Universal Music Group is claiming that they still own those disks, and, citing copyright infringement, is suing at least one ebay seller for resellling the discs he bought at a used CD store. Not only can you not sell these promo CD's, according to UMG, but you can't give, or even throw, them away. (Don't want the hobos scoring any free Def Leppard.)

The Electronic Frontier Foundation is taking the UMG to task. Thanks, Consumerist.

* = Maxim magazine: No.

Previously: Ticketmaster

Posted by Randall Monty at 11:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

[Coachella ticket is $269 before fees. ]

[Handsome Furs ticket is $12 before fees.]

I know this has been said a million times before, but just because of that doesn't mean it is acceptable. Why the fuck does their "convenience charge" change on the price of the ticket? Extortion! We need more Pearl Jams testifying in Congress.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 02:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

From what I sincerely hope is a wildly transparent 4/01 joke press release...

"Ben Gibbard is Just Jazzin'

BENJAMIN GIBBARD ANNOUNCES NEW SIDE PROJECT

Benjamin Gibbard (Death Cab For Cutie) is proud to announce a new musical project called Just Jazzin'. Born out of an interest in exploring music free from rules and convention, Just Jazzin' offers the world a chance to see another side of Ben.

"....There's this side of me and my music that desires a lack of structure and Just Jazzin' does that for me because I am allowed to just play whatever note comes into my head.", says Ben."

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Thanks for reminding us what anticipation feels like. Thanks for giving everyone a fair shot at a virgin listen.

To record labels, leaks are impossible to ignore, like finding cash on a deserted street. Even the most righteous amongst us will pocket found treasure without question or guilt. As far as I'm concerned the ones that deny it are either out of the loop, or lying.

Previously:
On Radiohead, where I'm compelled by the Zeitgeist

Posted by Merry Swankster at 10:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As pleased as we were to hear that Bristol, UK heroes Portishead were lumbering out of their pain cave to finally release a new record, cursed cynicism still tempered our excitement. I mean, if they had anything left to say then why such a long absence? It seemed silly to think that really could have been spending a decade crafting 11 songs. But then the heavens split to offer this record to us, and fuck if that scenario doesn't seem slightly plausible. There were probably more than a few coffee breaks, but still.

Third is a confident and exciting record that'll easily rate among the best of the year. It can't not sound like Portishead with Beth Gibbons spectral presence flickering in front of every song, but it presents a much more versatile group than the one who pulled a disappearing act on us in our young and vulnerable states. This album is only now trickling out to the shadowy corners of the pirate web. We can't betray our secret source by posting tracks that could easily be traced back. But we've all been rolling it around on our palettes for a couple weeks and we're prepared to let you know what you're in for once looser lips inevitably sink the secret ship.

Third, one-by-one:

1)"Silence"

Third albums are always tricky, and so are comebacks. You need an instant grabber. “Silence,” track 1 on Portishead’s Third, is that grabber. As the galloping beat gradually comes to include shards of glacial jagged guitar and sustained minor-key strings, we are already in gleeful darkness before it lurches to a halt and in comes that voice. From an outfit that trades so heavily in slo-mo cinema, this is something new: an action sequence, and it’s quite a pleasant slap in the face. The lyrics, on the other hand, are indeed your grandmother’s Portishead: naked expressions of longing, vulnerability and isolation, somehow made alluring by virtue of Beth Gibbons’ singular instrument. -D. Klein

2)"Hunter"

"Hunter" sounds like the theme song to the next Bond flick, Fuck to Kill (working title: Kill to Fuck) that Portishead was never asked to write. Not that I'm treading on new ground by aligning this band with spy movies; they've done as much themselves. "Hunter" travels continuously upwards like the scrolling of credits or smoke climbing from a clove cigarette. Maybe F2K will be filmed partially in India, like Octopussy was. In a very un-Bondsian turn, the quick drum roll (3:19) leading into the drowsy Television-esque finish is a total blue balling tactic. - R. Monty

3)"Nylon Smile"

I knew a girl in college who was animate in telling me that her favorite band was Morcheeba. I didn't know how to respond to that bit of information. It was like someone telling me there favorite basketball player is Derek Harper. I mean, I'm glad you have a favorite and all, but that particular choice doesn't really facilitate any further conversation. Jeff had an immediate response, however: "Why not just go straight to the source material and listen to some Portishead?" Well, on "Nylon Smile", Portishead seem to be the ones reveling in their own influences. To my western ears, the instrumentals en masse come across with a north African vibe (somewhat reminiscent of Damon Albarn's forays into Moroccan music). But the real star of the track is Beth Gibbon's voice, which has never sound more weathered. - R.M.

4)"The Rip"

“The Rip” is a spare song at first: spindly acoustic guitar, a chalk smear of theremin, and a subdued, mournful vocal by Beth Gibbons. But midway, the rhythm kicks in, along with a pulsing analog synthesizer, and “The Rip” spreads its wings and flies, perfectly embodying a song about transcendence. - D.K.

5)"Plastic"

A lounge-like track distorted somewhat by a helicopter- like sound effect. Like most tracks on Third, it would seem out of place on either of Portishead's first two albums, but is more of a heir to Portishead than Dummy. - K. O'Brien

6)"We Carry On"

As dark as this track starts, it's tempting to recast its title as "We, Carrion." Again, it's jarring how little this conforms to our old idea of Portishead. When David slipped this into his DJ set at last weekend's Neon Lights show, no one in the room even really knew to lose their shit. Until we mentioned to select folks that it was Portishead, and said shit was promptly lost. Geoff Barrow was always obsessed with beats, but molasses slow ones. This is steady krautrock clockwork, with Beth's soft pleas threatening to become completely overwhelmed and unhinged by the clatter around her. This is before the cascades of sinister post-punk guitar start to persecute her further. To my ears, the record's masterpiece. - J. Klingman

7)"Deep Water"

Who would have thought we’d find Beth Gibbons, a ukelele, and 4 part harmonies in-between the pulsating “We Carry On” and a song titled “Machine Gun?” “Deep Water” is certainly the eye of the storm track. It’s unique, well placed, short, and sweet. This is the long awaited song for the Portishead fan working at a tiki bar in Hawaii. -Y. Korngold

8)"Machine Gun"

The record's first single is it's most brutal track. Almost industrial drum patterns and spastic synth shocks practically besiege the soaring and angelic vocal. Hearing it I picture a small woman, holding a candle that remains improbably lit despite a punishing thunderstorm that continues to grow in intensity until its contempt for her persistence snuffs them both out for good. At that point an oddly funereal synth line mourns with us. - J.K.

9)"Small"

A lamenting story, “Small” starts off with a haunting, candlelit kind of melody my Great-Grandfather would have used to tell his children about being chased out of Russia by the Cossacks. Halfway through the song though Great-Grandpa gets the urge to dance (or at least bounce from side to side) and kicks in some rhythm and a brooding organ to help tell his tale of heartbreak in hard times. -Y.K.

10)"Magic Doors"

In a sane world, this would make a strong appeal for radio play. A cowbell intro blends into a languid, muted synth that allows Gibbons' voice the spotlight. At the break, the piano kicks in - as Gibbons warbles about losing her self (or herself). It's the simple song that the Coldplays of the world have failed to make for years and years and years. - K.O.

11)"Threads"

"I'm always so unsure," goes Beth's mantra in this slow burning closer. Given the decade long absence from recording, it seems deeply felt. Maybe someday we'll hear dozens of versions of what Third could have sounded like; babysteps towards opening their sound towards so many new textures without betraying the band's noir essence. By containing the album's most harrowed vocal performance,"Threads" implies a life coming undone. It's sonic precision presents a band who finally got it together. - J.K.

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 05:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Bottom of the barrel bloggers > Maxim.

RAPPER Nas was shocked when Maxim gave his new album, "N - - - - r," a 21/2-star review - because it isn't even finished yet. "I'm finishing the album now, and it will be out April 22," Nas told Page Six. Maxim has since apologized for the premature review, but Nas doesn't care. "I'd prefer [a review from] Playboy," the rapper said. "That kind of stuff doesn't reach my radar or effect anybody around me. I don't know what a music rating from Maxim is . . . I don't know what it even means really." (via)

Previously:
Maxim reviews new Black Crowes without hearing it

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Back in November of 2006, in a review of Asobi Seksu's Denver show, I wrote the following:

I have always suspected critics' most detrimental reviews are written ahead of music actually reaching their ears. While I have no way of proving this theory, and I would eagerly accept suggestions that debunk me, I believe that a measurable percentage of critics consistently practice the type of reprehensible journalism my conspiracy rich imagination allows me to concoct. One would really have to try hard to get caught writing a review for a Rolling Stones concert that they didn't attend. Sprinkle in the obligatory walking dead mentions, adjective synonyms for awe at Jagger's still swaying hips and Reynolds-wrap it with a longing to witness the band 30 years ago and voila! Ready for print.

Hey guess what Maxim magazine just did?!

Of course, we always prefer to (sic) hearing music, but sometimes there are big albums that we don’t want to ignore that aren’t available to hear, which is what happened with the Crowes. It’s either an educated guess preview or no coverage at all, so in this case we chose the former.’”

One reason why this is not important: the journalistic integrity of Maxim is not exactly rubbing elbows with the upper echelons of literary giants.

One reason why this is important: Using a relevance scale similar to mother nature's food chain, legitimate magazine writers for magazines occupy a higher slot of influence than music bloggers. Naturally within the magazine caste exists its own separate hierarchy depending on the reputation of each publication, but surely due to immense reach and cultural penetration, even the sleaziest magazine gets more eyeballs than the best music blog. So while it's easy to write off a lazy, stupid decision by a "journalist" at Maxim, truth is it does matter. (via)

Posted by Merry Swankster at 07:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

John McCain's daughter is a music blogger (via Pitchfork)

New to me: Joanna Newsom is related to SF Mayor Gavin Newsom.

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 12:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

There are two acceptable options if you wish to express an opinion about Vampire Weekend.

Vampire Weekend is a very compelling, interesting, and unique band, even though its sound is based in the Paul & Simon, preppy, Afro-centric rhythms mold.

OR

Vampire Weekend is a decent band - they're technically proficient and kind of catchy - but they're not my style.

You lose your cred card if you say one of the follow two:

Vampire Weekend cures cancer
Vampire Weekend doesn't deserve its hype and, in fact, causes cancer

FIN!

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 02:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

[Actor Michael Cera, Comedian Demetri Martin]

This may be too high a dosage of nerdy celebrity hipsters for one post...careful.

[Vampire Weekend's Ezra Koenig]

Previously:
Eddie Argos & Adam Morrison
Jesse Hughes from EODM = Thomas Jane?
Billy Corgan + Eminem = Gerard Way?

Posted by Merry Swankster at 02:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

This is an odd, but true statement. Lil Wayne's prodigious output is degrading his status because he's putting too much effort in his songs. For realz.

The five-track The Leak EP, which features songs from sessions for the forthcoming Tha Carter III, is too serious and boring. That saddens me. It's a bit callous to be nitpicky about a man's craft when he's staring down three felony charges.

It is confirmed: Lil Wayne is best when he's the hardcore version of Kool Keith - that is, to say, scatological, nonsensical, irreverent. When he's talking about stuntin like his daddy (who is 100% not his daddy), I feel like there's something missing, something ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.

But when he's all "Great... Scott... Scott Storch, can I borrow your yacht?", like on "We Taking' Over (Remix)", I'm listening. So that brings us to "Love Me or Hate Me," the overwrought track from The Leak. He begins with a tried (paraphrase) "Never fall like Niagra, keep coming up like Viagra). Yawn. While I will admit, Lil Wayne wields those pop culture references better than most, I could as easily see Kayne West or Jay-Z or, well, anyone saying the same thing.

But, then, the brilliance. With no set-up; explanation; or, to my mind, attached metaphor: "I am agriculture."

So, if he can't beat the felony wrap, I hope he slows down his roll and finds the crazy we enjoy so much. Good luck, Weezy. Strop trying so hard to be the best MC, please.

Lil Wayne - We Taking Over (Remix)

Lil Wayne - Love Me or Hate Me

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 10:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Everyone's canned answer to that question should be a simple - yes. It doesn't make a lot of sense to pay the same price for digital versions of records when a CD costs the same. I'd rather get the hard copy of the music on CD, along with the artwork, liner notes, and whatever other goodies are included for the money if the costs are comparative. After all, it's not all that much work to rip CDs.

Downloading is mega convenient in that it's practically instant, and for singles it can't be beat, but the lack of the rest of the package washes away the urge for immediate gratification when it comes to digital albums. The Compact Disc is a remarkably good value and convenient in comparison to downloads when considering the latter allows only a one time opportunity to download the music. For digital music player fans, the plastic CD is useless in terms of need for listening, until it becomes an invaluable backup source in case of hard drive or digital music player failure. Anyone whose ever lost the contents of a hard drive can testify to the painful realization of losing the equivalent of their digital life. Losing an entire library of music is one of my most tragic nightmare. And yes you can always backup, but how many of you actually do? Right.

iTunes policy states you don't get second chances to download purchased songs after that initial download. However my CD collection has no such built in mechanisms stating how often I can rip the songs onto my hard drive, or anyone else's for that matter. The RIAA may think differently, but at least they aren't literally inside my music forcing the issue.

Before iTunes started moving away from copy-protected files, I used to be spit that last part about the embedded DRM protection with a bit more venom when explaining my decision to shy away from the download marketplace. However, increasingly DRM-free times have afforded an oppurtonity to realize that not even the lure of higher bit rates and removal of DRM is enough to change the manner in how I choose to receive my music. DRM concerns, while completely valid in these uncertain technological times, are not the real reason why most people do not download music and neither a legitimate barrier to why we are not seeing a true spike in the adoption of legal avenues for downloading music.

It's the cost, stupid!

Continue reading "Should music downloads cost less than CDs?" »

Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

This is what kind of great guy I am, it's my birthday and I'm giving you, the loyal MS reader, a gift. A gift of a horribly memorable, and quite possibly profoundly disturbing, personalized birthday song that's been laser engraved into my cerebellum since I was very small. It was tracked down by my sister and brother in law, on the anniversary of my arrival to existence. Seeing as it is by the wildly popular (if not wildly versatile) "Captain Zoom" perhaps you know of what I speak. Only my fellow Jeffs can really enjoy this particular version whole heartedly though. So Jeffs of the world, you're welcome/I'm sorry.

Captain Zoom - "Happy Birthday (Jeff)"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 11:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

If you've had the misfortune of interacting with me over the past two weeks, you've heard me talk about the smooth brilliance of Yacht Rock. Created by the people who brought to bear VH1's apparently short-lived Acceptable.TV, the show's 10 episodes catalog the heady days of 1976-1984 where hell-raisers like Michael McDonald, Kenny Loggins, and Steely Dan lived like Rock Gods... smooth, Yacht-music-creating Rock Gods. To try to explain the greatness of the shows is to fail. So, here's one of the best episodes.

Like other great programming (It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia comes to mind), you have to give it some time before its brilliance sinks in.

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 12:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

My Bloody Valentine - You Made Me Realise EP

So much of the My Bloody Valentine legend is caught up with the band’s crowning achievement, the indie rock touchstone Loveless, which according to legend, nearly destroyed Creation Records due to the perfectionist Kevin Shields taking so long to finish the thing. Many people consider the record one of the greatest, or even, the greatest, but it’s odd that many of these Loveless worshippers are not even unaware of the two EPs, both released in ’88, which preceded Loveless by three years. And it’s not simply in a geeky completist manner that I consider the lack of availability of this music something to lament; it’s essential listening. I find the EPs to be the band’s most accomplished non-Loveless work. If I’m not feeling ethereal, I will definitely listen to songs from the EPs, like “Slow” or “Drive it All Over Me” over Loveless. A brawny mix of noise and hooks, these songs retain the band’s trademark sensuality while incorporating its initial embrace of pop—demonstrated on the first singles like “Sunny Sundae Smile.”—as well as rap. According to Shields, the vocals on “Slow” were inspired by hip-hop, along with the Jesus & Mary Chain single “Sidewalkin.’”

Especially pleasing on these songs are the fierce, Keith Moon-influenced chops of drummer Colm O’Ciosoig, which is to say they feature a live drummer, something all but two songs on Loveless lack. I also find the music much more compelling than the transitional LP Isn’t Anything (1988). Beyond the power of the songs, Mike McGonigal, author of the excellent 33 1/3 book about Loveless, posits that the title track of the You Made Me Realise EP was directly responsible for the types of sounds Shields would pursue on that magenta-hued classic record of his. Not the song on the EP, so much as what the band did when they played it in concert.

Continue reading "Realising Our Commitment to Public Service" »

Posted by David Klein at 08:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I read this CNN Money article (linked from Brooklyn Vegan, natch) this morning defending the need for record labels. Headlined with the urgent and overused catch-all: “Why record labels matter now more than ever.” Brushing aside the inane conclusion from such a headline – clearly one can make an equally convincing argument how artists now more than ever have a greater opportunity to achieve success without help from record labels – in the way it relates to large acts trying to relive past success in today’s marketplace, it paints an interesting picture on how the publicity hustle is evolving. Jumping off that previous tangent, one problem I have with the piece is that two years ago the same article trumpeted the exact opposite point and Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Pitchfork, Myspace et al., featured prominently.

As I step back to observe from a high level I find the most interesting aspect of the article is not the point it makes, but the fact that CNN devoted an article to a band most people thought went away with the late 90s, and how blogs (hi!) will eat this up by either a) cycling the same regurgitative snark in posts on an allegedly “irrelevant band” (without any credence to the history of 28 million units (!) sold), b) respond with earnest condemnation why things such as a 41 page marketing plan are reasons exactly why labels are not needed while devoid of good reasons why other than stroking quasi-anarchist ideals, or c) referencing the “Radiohead model” as an end solution to everything. The blog-oh-sphere has gotten predictable.

In other words when all is said and done, thousands (millions?) more people will know Matchbox Twenty has a new record coming out when they otherwise wouldn’t. For a sizable chunk of the music loving population it’ll be from the conversation it begets rather than any of the ridiculous amounts of media blitz tactics from that 41 page marketing plan. Makes you wonder whether that factored in as part of the goal all along. If so, I tip my hat to the clever marketing people banking on viral coverage of ancillary details in order to push product awareness. Without trying to overemphasize the audience of indie skewing music blogs, my money is that it’s working.

Brace yourself for the campaign strategy condemnation from people that have no idea what marketing is all about, what record labels actually do, and the piles upon heaping piles of steaming rationalizing from people saying “this is EXACTLY why we steal music.” Emphasis will be theirs, no doubt.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Some MS.com'ers had a bit of discussion Friday re: this Sasha Frere-Jones article, (what I deem) a bad exercise in using an important publication to draw tenuous conclusions and justifications based on a personal opinion.

Sadly, the New Yorker, one of my favorite publications, tends to allow this from time to time. The piece had the lack of cohesion and rhythm as the bands (he claims) that seemed to influence his thesis. Also, Wilco and Decemberists do not make up indie rock (and are not incredibly relevant today, when compared to other artists). Spank Rock, LCD Soundsystem, Rapture, Of Montreal... I could go on.

I won't belabor my dissatisfaction with the piece (and subsequent podcast), but to say that it's my belief that SFJ truly does think (and know) way more about music than me, and, thus, he will be likely to have transcendent pieces and very bad pieces mixed in his resume, while I will be doomed to good, average, and pretty bad. What did you think (about the piece, not my mediocre estimations of my music criticism career).

And also (via Gawker), here is an update.

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 10:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

And with its last dying breadth, it uttered “And I am a writer, writer of fictions…”

Oddly, it isn’t all that rare an occurrence when I’m offered something “that fell off the back of a truck”. As it turns out, I know a guy who knows a guy, a relationship that, coupled with my ’04 fantasy football winnings, helped to create the perfect storm known as iPod ownership. It probably isn’t wholly necessary for me to tell you that music-listening-wise, the past almost-three years have been the best of my life. Countless songs and stories, each one more randomly shuffled than the one before it, so I suppose it's coda track is rather fitting.

True: I have straight-faced, and on more than one occasion called the iPod my “favorite invention ever.” So it is with surprisingly little regret that I meet its passing.

Mine didn’t end with a frowny-face or a battery with an exclamation point. There were no flying sparks or loud bangs. Instead, it went gentle into that good night without any fanfare or pomp and circumstance. (Although in its livelier days it could have played us some Elgar.) Looking back, I suppose I would always prefer it that way; no fuss. It was over without much argument or discussion. Still, it is impossible not to lament this loss, or more appropriately, the impending loss of another $250.

When it comes my time for my corpse to be set a drift a flaming ship, here's what I want soundtracking:

Posted by Randall Monty at 10:51 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Against my better judgment I participated in arguing with an OiNK defender. Internet arguing...yeah. The Zeitgeist encourages extreme anger and hope in equal measures. Be careful what rock you pick up and know which to avoid like the plague. This week I went over to the darkside, and at the end of the day nothing changed. I just feel dumb for even trying.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 05:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Jeff and I have been blowing our figurative tops via IM this week discussing the ridiculous reactions since the OiNK fallout. While our official response/rant to the matter is still being worked on, I feel the need to spotlight the insanity published by Alex Carnevale, editor in chief of This Recording blog. Most of it follows the same ideologically unsound, misguided rantings littering blogosphere alleys, until this little gem appears.

"What scares me the most about all this is the loss of a revolutionary feeling. Why are all these people, most of them young people, on the side of the government? Do you know what the government does? Are you familiar with the 60s? Before civil rights, were these the same people who were like, “Well it’s the law, so let’s go lynch some peeps.” (Note: yes, lynching was the law in the South. It was the law.)" (via)

Did he compare the crystal clear, un-muddled moral righteousness of the US Civil Rights movement with the delusional idea of OiNK being a spark for revolution in the music industry by implicitly advocating theft of intellectual property? Holy fuck. What's next? Comparing the atrocity of 9/11 with OiNK's shutdown? Oh wait.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 12:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

(Alternate titles for this post: Keeping the Honest, Honest; No Loose Lips When There's No Ship To Sink)

Radiohead incited an Internet riot last week when they suddenly announced a new album was completed, but also it's imminent availability on October 10th, AND the fact fans could name their own price for the rights to download a copy. As of yet, I haven't come to a conclusion on what it all means, but I don't count myself as subscriber to the conventional wisdom declaring this to be the landmark, flatlining moment of the -- as we know it today -- music industry. However, as Jeff Klingman commented to me during a discussion on the topic, "it could very well end up being an important footnote in the eventual obituary."

** ** **
I just wanted to say how cool it is to look forward to a new record without getting spoiled with a leak months in advance. Nothing to frame the yet unheard recording but anticipation. If nothing else, I hope this is what is remembered most from this stunt. Does that ultimately make this novel idea a terribly sad one? Perhaps, even though its obvious and well overdue.

//Radiohead - In Rainbows - buy

Posted by Merry Swankster at 07:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Today's out of context excerpt is especially relevant considering the Retrohump selection. Bill O'Reilly and Juan Williams chalk up black society's social ills to hip hop (via MM4A):

WILLIAMS: It really corrupts people, and I think it adds, Bill, to some serious sociological problems, like the high out-of-wedlock birth rate because of this hypersexual imagery that then the kids adapt to some kind of reality. I mean, it's inauthentic. It's not in keeping with great black traditions of struggle and excellence, from Willie Mays to Aretha Franklin, but even in terms of academics, you know, going back to people like Charles Drew or Ben Carson here, the neurosurgeon at [Johns] Hopkins [University]. That stuff, all of a sudden, is pushed aside. That's treated as, "You're a nerd, you're acting white," if you try to be excellent and black.

O'REILLY: You know, and I went to the concert by Anita Baker at Radio City Music Hall, and the crowd was 50/50, black/white, and the blacks were well-dressed. And she came out -- Anita Baker came out on the stage and said, "Look, this is a show for the family. We're not gonna have any profanity here. We're not gonna do any rapping here." The band was excellent, but they were dressed in tuxedoes, and this is what white America doesn't know, particularly people who don't have a lot of interaction with black Americans. They think that the culture is dominated by Twista, Ludacris, and Snoop Dogg.

End quote.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Slate mentions LCD Soundsystem, Daft Punk. Tries to be funny (cool?), fails miserably (link).

"This year, LCD has released one of the year's strongest albums (The Sound of Silver) and best singles ("All My Friends"). In an even greater feat, the group has converted countless "indie rock crowds"—traditionally as dynamic as a queue at the DMV—into pulsing, fully functional dance floors."

End quote.
-- -- --

Our own Keith O'Brien pontificated on the Daft Punk phenomenon last week. Read: "One More Time". [ed note: submitted to slate, rejected by slate.]

Posted by Merry Swankster at 01:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

A few weeks ago, the MS readership increased by one small girl, namely Eva Grace, the brand new daughter of our valued contributor Randall Monty. When an mp3 blog wants to collectively congratulate, said congratulations must take the form of a list of posted songs and text. This is also its response towards condolences and a particularly delicious empanada. She is a limited medium.

So, the non-Monty members of our little corner of pixels have taken it upon themselves to each recommend a song that we felt the newborn might enjoy. With one notable exception, these suggestions have not been field tested in any way, and some are perhaps even wildly inappropriate. We leave it to the proud papa to enlighten us as to which those might be.

On with it, and congratulations from us all...

Merry Swankster:

"Mayonesa" is neither the best song (under any criteria), nor a song for a newborn, let alone best song for a newborn, but certainly a fun Latin dance track with a silly name. And from what I know about babies they love fun, dancing, and silliness so there you go.

Translated from the Spanish word for mayonnaise, this cumbia-candombe hybrid was a giant hit in the Rio de la Plata region of South America circa austral summer 2001. I'll save the Google search for those of you geographically challenged, I'm specifically referring to Uruguay, Argentina and environs. In 2001 I took an extended trip to the region and this song was defined by the infectious ridiculousness of the subject matter as much by the ubiquitous of the track. It was everywhere. I can't really vouch so much for how many other countries Chocolate infiltrated with their hit, but I did hear the song a few times later that year in Spain. Twice to be exact, once at a disco and again in a television commercial for what else, mayonnaise. Little Monty, the world is flat, welcome.

Chocolate - "Mayonesa"

David Klein:

I'm recommending this swinging rockabilly thang because of personal experience. My iTunes shows that "Freight Train Boogie" has a play count of 406, making it our most popular song of the past few years, because my twin sons had to hear it several times a day between the age of 1 and 2 (they are now 3). They demanded it by name (they dubbed it "Wah-wah" for obvious reasons.) John Lee Hooker's "Boom Boom" was a close second (393 plays).The song has a kid-friendly bounce and a nice woody bucolic feel. And that "ooh ooh wah wah" train thing is totally primal and childlike. Michael Stipe once said that "murmur" was one of the easiest words in the English language to say; ooh ooh and wah wah are even easier, hence their appeal to moppets. Many congratulations to you and yours.

the Louvin Brothers - "Freight Train Boogie"

P.S. Check out "Pink Thing" by XTC. That was my second choice for you.

Koren Zailckas:

Congratulations Monty! Because it sounds like a nihilistic nursery rhyme or maybe a School House Rock lesson in gun safety ('My daddy has a gun, it's not a toy but it's loads of fun'), I'm giving you and your new babe 'Fairy Stories.' Additionally, I hear infants enjoy the sounds of other infants. And prior history tells us those Black Lips could use a Huggies diaper.

Black Lips - "Fairy Stories"

Yonah Korngold:

It turns out that my attempt to do a wide search for the term “baby” in a song lyric didn’t really narrow down the possibilities. So I picked the most famous song ever to be inspired by baby talk. I had to turn a blind eye to Muddy Waters and give the nod to Clapton’s version for after all, when you're talking babies, you can’t really deny a song that’s featured on an album titled From the Cradle.

Eric Clapton - "Hoochie Coochie Man"

Congrats and best wishes to the Monty family and may your new one grow up strong and take after her Pa by displaying her unabashed disdain for Pearl Jam’s Ten.

Keith O'Brien:

Hello - I listen to some depressing, lyrically (emotionally) unstable music. No way for a baby to enter the world.

I ran through a number of songs. First that resonated was Sufjan Steven's "Vito's Ordination Song," which always struck me as a good celebratory song - (wedding, graduation, successfully returning to abode with ice cream in slightly-frozen state), and it is a beautiful, if wussy song. But Eva Grace is not a son, and, even if we ignore genders, I can't tell whether the father and son relationship is about Sufjan and God, or a fictional character and his son, or a same-sex relationship. Neither can anyone else.

So, Eva Grace will have enough confusion with religion at some point; that is not going to be my doing.

I thought the song structure of most shoegaze pop - anthemic - would be motivating, inspirational - but damn if all of those songs are not about love lost. And I can't proffer the beauty by ignoring the scarily-titled "A Violent But Flammable World" of Au Revoir Simone.

For not more than four seconds, I thought, "Why not, 'Stay Fly?' by Three 6 Mafia? Underneath the warnings of not leaving your weed near DJ Paul, it's fundamentally a song about motivation. The "hustle" is metaphorically translatable to the hustle Monty will insist on the soccer pitch.

Then I tried to reverse course and go with M83's (short on the lyrics) "Teen Angst", but the soaring synths might be a little too much for developing ears to bear.

I really wanted to go with something from Low - specifically from Things We Lost in the Fire, one of my favorite albums of all time. Not because I hoped to irrevocably depress Eva Grace before she could even start formulating emotions, but that the melodies are so gorgeous that (if we're to believe these songs hold weight) she would seek out the entire album 18-20 years in the future - you know, when we're battling our nanobot-controlled toasters. But it just didn't fit.

Next, Nico's "Time of the Season" - but it doesn't really bespeak of my experience growing up.

So what does speak to my experience growing up? Nirvana (next); Public Enemy (I'd prefer she first learn about racial equality (read: existing racial inequality) without the undertones of sexism and anti-semitism.

So that lead me to Portishead's "It's a Fire." It's gorgeous, and it's melancholy, but hopeful. And it's my song for Eva Grace.

Portishead - "It's a Fire"

Jeff Klingman:

My pick for the newborn may be a bit too on the nose, as it is basically a musical mobile. A hyper active toddler would surely have no patience for the sweet piano circles of Brian Eno's Music for Airports, but for a crib bound tyke, it seems like just the thing to soothe a confused little head. My lovable, though jam band loving, college roommate used to say in regard to the incomprehensible information infants were constantly given, that babies were perpetually "tripping balls." Maybe these static and deceptively lovely notes will serve as a necessary calming influence. I know that when I feel like sobbing, spitting up, or shitting my pants, this is where I turn.

Brian Eno - "1/1"

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Why everyone loves the new Daft Punk concerts (hint: it's not the light show) and what is says about what we want from our musicians

[Photo cred: Jeremiah Garcia]

The two humans responsible for the greatest concert of this century would prefer you think of them as robots (who are trying to become human). And it's this very conceit that has left people of all musical persuasions and psychographics praising the duo in all caps across the Internet. Shocking pretty much everyone, Thomas Bangalter and Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo, the men behind Daft Punk, have finally, truly arrived in the US a decade after they first flirted with ubiquity.

It may surprise some to learn that the 2006 Coachella Festival, the ground zero of Daft Punk's deification, actually featured over 90 bands, including the bizarrely still-popular Tool and 80s stalwarts Depeche Mode. More than a year later, Daft Punk continues to dominate the Coachella discussion, drowning out the fact that Rage Against the Machine (directly in the center of the musical Venn diagram of fratboys and anarchists) reunited to a massive crowd at the 2007 festival.

So it now seems inscribed in rock scripture that Daft Punk, performing for the first time in the US since the 20^th century, descended from the heavens to play an hour-long set in the Sahara Tent, which caused music bloggers and Internet denizens, returning from the festival in Indio, California, to express near-biblical adoration and admit impulses for masochism.

"HOLY GOD!!! AWESOME."

"I was there and will remember this as the greatest set ever. Fuck, they made me want to punch myself in the face it was so goddamn good."

Continue reading "One More Time" »

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 05:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Highlights

Schreiber's semi-favorable review, which begins in earnest after a six-paragraph preamble comprising a long list of baroquely rendered, seemingly unrelated anecdotes peppered with obscure references, summarizes music as a "solid but uninspired effort."

And

"In the end, though music can be brilliant at times, the whole medium comes off as derivative of Pavement."

Posted by Keith O'Brien at 09:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

...but I tried watching and didn't feel like slitting my wrists tonight, just too messy. Britney is still a mess, Sarah Silverman still makes people uncomfortable, and MTV is as irrelevant as ever. We've said our piece, back to Giants vs. Cowboys.

P.S. Just checked back in at halftime. Umm...I'm confused. Was the theme this year to make the VMAs look like a Youtube video with better production values? All the different rooms, the dark hues. Very strange.

Posted by Merry Swankster at 09:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

"I have never contemplated how, what or if I should do this or that. I was raised to discipline myself to be the best that I can be. Good will, decency and positive energy drives my everyday. Always has, always will. My music and dreams have lives of their own. Unstoppable." - Ted Nugent (El Paso Times 8.24.07)

End quote. [emphasis added - MS]

Posted by Merry Swankster at 05:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

From muscle memory alone, it seems odd to hover in a laptop's glow without getting hot and bothered about this band or another. My fingers feel wrong when not typing vague adjectives like "ethereal" or "propulsive." So, although there are many great bands playing Saturday's After the Jump Festival on which to expend pixels, it's important to fight through the alien sensation of focusing on something a bit bigger than pop music for a minute. Last week, along with my Neon Lights' cohort D (madam of the word brothel known as Soft Communication, as you well know) had a jovial beer with Michael Everett-Lane, the Executive Director of Donor's Choose Northeast. After briefly interrogating him about his musical tastes (Mountain Goats, the Pipettes, with a big ol' softspot for Journey's Escape) and his own blogging pedigree (Mike maintains the Ishbadiddle blog and was a founder of the now on hold NYC Bloggers site) he let us in on the details of the organization that will directly benefit from this weekend's event, and why the work they do is so important.

Donor's Choose was born to help address the massive funding shortfall in this country's public school system. 40% of public school teachers in the United States don't have enough money for textbooks, let alone the supplementary supplies that would make their jobs easier. This year the average teacher will pull an average of $520 dollars from their own not nearly overstuffed wallets in order to give their students a proper education. Mike notes the larger implication that, "Nationwide, public schoolteachers pay billions of dollars a year on average for items that are not covered by their budgets." Frustrated by the bureaucracy of the system as it existed, Bronx schoolteacher Charlie Best founded Donor's Choose in 2000.

The key innovation of Donor's Choose is that, like blogging does for would be writers, it allows individuals to pursue causes that interest them on a specific and personal level. Teachers submit proposals to the organization, and after they are carefully vetted by the National Office (in reality a 40 man garment district office Mike likens to "a sweat shop") they are placed online to await possible donors. While they only fund programs in select parts of the country at the moment, the charity will soon open its doors to proposals from all 50 States. "Teachers know best what they need in their classrooms," explained Mike in regard to this direct micro-scale approach. Requests run the gamut from basic needs like a classroom set of To Kill a Mockingbird to more elaborate and ambitious enrichment programs. Based on their own philanthropic desires, donors choose to fund their preferred proposal large or small, partially or in full.

This level of choice has pulled in people who never would have have contributed before, either due to a previous lack of ease or skepticism that their money would make any kind of tangible impact. From the Brooklyn 1st Graders who held a bake sale to buy their North Carolina counterparts some classroom puzzles to the individual donor who purchased a $27,000 playground set, folks who help Donor's Choose know that their effort is not putting leather couches in the Superintendent's office. To exponentially increase the warm and fuzzy quotient, every single donor receives a comprehensive feedback package of student thank yous, a letter on the impact of their donation from their aided teacher, and photos of their funds in action. It's philanthropy in its purest form.

So, besides a good time what will buying a ticket to Saturday's Night Show at Studio B accomplish? Well, your ticket will help the students at the Bronx High School for the Visual Arts purchase the DJ equipment they'll need in order to teach nearly 400 students how to mix, produce, and perform compositions of their own design. For once, having a drink and a dance could actively nurture the next generation of beat makers and rappers, rock stars and future dance floor fillers. Misanthropists take note, with the Virgins, Soulico, Free Blood, and Riot in Belgium in full swing, you will hardly notice that you're being a good guy.

Advance tickets are available now on Ticket Web for $12 dollars, and it jumps slightly at the door to a still reasonable 14. Kids planning to only attend the free day show should be aware that raffle tickets purchased at the event, which give you a shot at hundreds of CD's, DVD's, boxed sets, concert tickets, and maybe even a $500 dollar all access pass to this year's CMJ Music Festival, will be directly aiding the cause as well.

So buy your tickets right here now, or find your pet cause on Donor's Choose.

Frivolity will now resume...

Posted by Jeff Klingman at 02:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

[POTUS doesn't get it either]

Pitchfork's Matt LeMay reviews the new This is Next compilation and gets himself in a tizzy over why the record exists when most if not all of the songs are freely available online. Fair enough for a spokesman of the venerable Pitchforkian institution to be confused by such a release. Blinded is he who takes for granted the "joy" of downloading MP3s and perusing the Internets for tunes. Obviously this album isn't for him, or for most of us for that matter. With a tracklist that reads like the top 15 Elbo.ws tracks of the last two years, this is a compilation for the uninformed, the casual shopper; or, people with priorities that exist outside the musical underground - a term used very loosely in this context, but perfectly on point for the potential owners of the disk.

The coup de grâce:

None of which is to say that indie rock shouldn't be reaching a large audience. Nobody wants good bands to fail, just as nobody wants to be that insufferable asshole fruitlessly trying to protect his favorite music from the uncool masses. Even so, as a shoddy, transparent, and poorly packaged ploy to sell indie rock cachet to the "casual" consumer, this compilation is far more condescending than some dude who gets pissed off when he sees a Shins CD at Starbucks. Not every attempt to bring underground music to a wider audience is well-intentioned and praiseworthy, and the recent popular emergence of indie music is a product of circumstances that can't really be corralled or replicated. Ironically, these very circumstances stand to thoroughly undermine This Is Next. If nothing else, this album is a reminder that it's not the bands that sell out, it's the business.

Kudos for pointing out irrational fickleness from the indie folks, but then again the entire review can be summed up as so: "This is Next is shit. People should just buy these bands' albums." Which of course would likely be followed by another F-bomb laden tirade from the news desk should the Wal Marts of the world start carrying the latest Merge releases. Confused yet? So am I. Clearly Mr. Average Joe living his day ignorant of this little niche in the music world benefits by the availability of these compilations, because that guy is never going to purchase the Of Montreal album. However, after listening to "Heimdalsgate Like a Promethean Curse" (included in the comp.) he might just go out and buy the amazing Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? which of course is the point of these releases. Am I missing something here?

Posted by Merry Swankster at 11:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)