Beat-box flute fella:
Beat-box flute fella:
I can handle a lot of things. Clarence Clemons death is not one of them.
No one had a tone like that. No one did more with 8 measures than he did. Rest in peace.
I cannot believe he is on this shooting spree. And there’s nothing in the news about it. No outrage, no congressional attention- will no one think of the children?
There’s no way I’m buying his reggae album now. Reggae is about peace, AM I RIGHT?
“And when she gets to Washington, it’ll be cold as hell…”
Two things that I suspect have not occurred to these good-hearted folk: 1. They’re chorus thesis hangs on the cultural idiom, “Hell Freezes Over.” Which is to say, Hell will never freeze over. Ergo: Sarah Palin will never get to “Warshington.” She couldn’t finish her term as governor.
2. Commandment Number 2: “You shall have no other gods before me.” This song is elevating Palin to Golden Calf status, by conflating “Battle Hymn of the Republic” as a church hymn. Pretty dubious as a church/state conflict, let alone borderline blasphemous.
Hey, man, just sayin’. Besides that, they seem like good church-goin’ people who are troubled by the rampant socialism that Jesus preached.
Some musicians are born, not made:
I’d love to see this dude with a Korg Wavedrum or a J Dilla style set-up, where he could trigger samples with a drum machine. I’ve never seen an MC drum before- I think it’d be incredible to see him with a hi-tech rig.
Then again, the foot-and-pens thing is pretty damn great on its own.
This graphic appeared in Wired a few years ago. I was immediately piqued by the fact that I could recognize a few of the characters. Curiosity quickly turned to Obsess Much? as I realized that each figure or ensemble represents a real (presumably) musician. I absolutely love this piece for it’s pixel-pushing meticulousness. When I presented it to a circle of my friends, they attacked it with geeker savagery. We are still stumped by a small handful of them. (Highlighted in blue)
Here are our answers. I’m reasonably confident of them – our dorkus-maximus peer-review process required photo evidence and nearly-unanimous-consensus.
Help fill in the gaps!
This video is a beautiful disaster. It looks like Terry Gilliam was kidnapped by steampunk robots and force-fed a tub of Plasticine and ipecac in the MOMA. It’s just lathered in anxious digital filigrees, and I think the whole thing would be a busy failure if it all weren’t less interesting than the heavy-lidded charisma of Eugene Hütz. In the past, the lead singer’s girlfriend would shake a tambourine or hold a triangle. We’ve finally disposed of that lie: just sit there and look hot. Slap your thighs to the beat if you feel like it.