That’s Baby-Makin’ Music. Ughhh.

Beat-box flute fella:

“Yeah, Aqualung!”

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Play It, Big Man.

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.

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Steven Seagal Must Be Stopped

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?

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Sarah Palin Battle Hymn. Yes.

“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.

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Let This Beat Ride- Lyrical God

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.

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An 8-Bit Conundrum

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!

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Gogol Bordello

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.

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John Clarke- Mosaic For Shadows

A beautiful composition built upon looping with an RC 50 Loopstation. John’s website is here. His technique actually looks like he’s playing a bass at times; he titles it an Latin-Asian composition, which I guess it is- I’ll let a man who’s developed this level of skill define his own genre.

I think there’s going to be a whole new explosion of looping players, no matter their instrument, that come out in the next 5 years that blow people away. Much like there being an entire generation who’s chosen medium is film-making that will revolutionize cinema (which I already think you’re seeing the first sparks of with Zombieland, Scott Pilgrim and their ilk, playing with film-as-canvas the way Peter Greenaway did), there’s going to be guitarists that learned by endlessly jamming with themselves via loopers.

You don’t have to wait for your bassist or drummer to be on time. Here’s a loop, a spare 3 hours, a trance-like bed to play over, and they’re soloing for hours, developing their craft like Coltrane running scales forwards, backwards and all other variations, driving his New York neighbors crazy. Les Claypool-like cascading sheets of notes.

And when game companies figure out a way to bridge the gap between Rock Band/Guitar Hero games and actual musical instruction (it’s really close now, just a nudge before we’re there) as a enjoyable, immersive experience, well, the sky’s the limit, really.

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Joe Henry is Fearsome

The world is always beautiful/when it’s seen in full retreat

The worst of life is beautiful/as it slips away in full retreat

And then, of course, there’s Ornette Coleman’s viciously brilliant solo on “Richard Pryor Addresses a Tearful Nation,” one of those songs that made me pull my car over the first time I heard it. The walk-down after the “squeal” crescendo makes me depressed every time I hear it. Simply masterful.

This man hasn’t released a bad album yet- they’re just varying degrees of incredible.

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Jeremy Sole on KCRW Thursday Mornings=Remarkable

Every Thursday morning, while driving home, I listen to Jeremy. His show is always amazing, and he’s got a really sublime talent of making you feel as if he’s just an unassuming friend hanging in your car or living room, turning you onto great music with the Ricky Roma soft-sell.

Mr. Sole had a remarkable set yesterday morning: Prince covers and Forever in my Life (impeccable taste, that one), turning me onto Aloe Blacc’s cover of Velvet Underground’s Femme Fatale, a Roots/Joanna Newsome joint (!), Nick Drake, Paul Simon’s Spirit Voices, and the song that took my head off, Back From Africa by Nickodemus.

I love, love, love this man’s radio show. Check last week’s show here.

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Music That’s Kicking My Butt at the Moment: CocoRosie and José James

Heard CocoRosie Smokey Taboo for the first time on the radio the other day- incredibly haunting, ethereal, childlike, spellbinding. Like Joanna Newsome sitting in on a ghostly drum circle. The bridge/coda is really nice, with the Madame Butterfly vocals taking you drifting into the night like a drunken firefly.

Yeah, I’m afraid of sharks/but not the dark…

I’ve been meaning to post something on José James for quite some time, ever since hearing Black Magic about a month ago. That lurching shuffle, that little-bit-behind-the-beat (I-mean-just-enough-to-turn-ya-on) singing, there’s a real lush denseness to the cut, a nice subtle groove. Then I heard Love Conversation, and I was all like, O_o.

I love artists who can say this much with this little- restrained instrumentation, little more than voices and that great room sound. José James should have a Batsignal- some sort of giant spotlight you could shine in the air whenever you thought you were about to be getting down. We could use D’Angelo’s old one; he used to be the go-to guy for sweet, sweet love. Come on, D, we need ya back!

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Elvis Costello & Fiona Apple. 2005.

At once absolutely fearsome and fearless:

Completely invested in the song. And Elvis’s guitar playing is truly transcendent. Still slays me every single time I watch it.

Hey Elvis, what was the highlight of the evening?

…Fiona’s incredible job on ‘I Want You.’ For me, that was musically the high point of the evening, in terms of how much you can reach within a song and come up with something that was for you.

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Neil Young. 1989.

Because, well, it rocks your damn face off.

Plus, Neil’s lungin’ ’round the stage like a murderous praying mantis. Rawk.

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Architect Gary Chang Transforms One Room Into 24

…right before your eyes. Remarkable.

Now, I’m not advocating living in boxes on top of each other- it’s my pig-headed belief that trees and restaurants make a city, not buildings (I’m from that Ray Bradbury school), but it really is an ingenious use of space, using every part of the architectural buffalo, if you will. More ideas like this, please, along with smart cars, solar paint, eco-friendly Cannonball Runs in which the victor uses the least amount of fuel versus the asinine most to simply go in a circle real-fast-like (hyuk).

And, since I mentioned Ray Bradbury, here’s a nice little interview he did with Frank Black (yes!) who’s Massiff Central is probably in my top 20 songs of all time. The album version from Show Me Your Tears is epic– here’s an acoustic version from the Christmass album.

Ray Bradbury interviews are fantastic, by the way. Just a take-no-prisoners, opinionated old codger who’s pretty much right about everything. I aspire to that level of imperious curmudgeony-ness.

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Malcolm McLaren Was a Clever Bloke: Rest in Peace.

Malcolm McLaren died yesterday. Never was a Sex Pistols man myself (I’m a follower of St. Joe Strummer- I’m a Clash man), but I’m not above tipping my cap to someone who cuts that wide of a cultural swath. I’ll be raising one to McLaren this weekend.

Over at the Caledonian Mercury is a nice little list of Six Things Malcolm McLaren Thought Of Before You Did.

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Ben Folds Does “Ode To Merton” in Charlotte, NC

Ben Folds did a little ode to Merton, The Chat Roulette Guy the other night in Charlotte. I think Merton is the most immediate, apt and artistic response to Chat Roulette, really, which has a bit of Web 1.0 vibe to it- a little dangerous, a little anonymous, random little rabbit holes that you can fall down, yet hopefully don’t end up seeing tons of dude’s junk. The idea of Chat Roulette is both exhilarating and terrifying- like a high-tech combination of visual pen-pals who might turn out to be creepy flashers in the park at a moment’s notice. Not my thing, but hey, whatever pops your kernel.

I do, however, find it fascinating, funny, and touching that Ben Folds is commenting on a guy who basically was doing Ben’s schtick- sort of like an uber-meta comment on a comment. Pop culture is eating itself in a magnificent way- a multicolored, high-bandwith snake eating its own tail daily. It seems to me Ben is both endorsing Merton and elevating him- “Good on ya, man. You hit me with that.”

It reminds me of David Cross doing a cover of the Bank of America Guys doing U2’s “One” as a “convention entertainment” and a grossly inappropriate appropriation of a song (in my view) that’s pretty damn beautiful. Obviously, the Bank Guys were oblivious that what they were doing was disgusting, beyond trite, and just remarkably and staggeringly bad. Cross knew this, and didn’t actually have to parody it; he just did it straight. There was no way to spoof that which is unspoofable- you just let ‘er rip as is, man.

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Music That’s Kicking My Butt at the Moment: We Were Promised Jetpacks, Mumford & Sons

Had two separate friends send me videos of two bands I hadn’t heard of (which mostly likely everyone else has)- We Were Promised Jetpacks and Mumford & Sons (brilliant, brilliant names, by the way). The songs that slayed me, It’s Thunder and It’s Lightning, and The Cave are pretty great, along with the nice little understated video for The Cave. Then I saw Little Lion Man, and I think that’s my new favorite. That vicious lil’ mother chugs along like pint-sized freight train- if you’re standing on the tracks, you’re gonna get knee-capped by that opening verse strum, only to get hugged by that epic, grand bridge. That’s a song. Jeez.

Who am I to say, but I think Johnny Cash would’ve been proud of that song. Stunning work.

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Mark Titus Is Awesome

I don’t follow college ball, mostly because I went to art school, and I don’t have an alma mater team, unless there’s a World Champion Thunderdome of Chiaroscuro or Font Kerning of which I am unaware, where you’re allowed to use a color wheel, linseed oil and a mace. (The Color-arnage!) I do, however, follow the NBA like a sterilizing rash I need to keep an eye on, lest it flare up and destroy my swimmers.

My team, the T-Wolves, is, well, agonizingly bad despite a potentially encouraging future (possible Ricky Rubio, 217 draft picks this year, Kevin Love, and an improving Corey Brewer.). And despite the fact that David Stern is, well, a wretched person (2007 Suns-Spurs debacle; the New York Ewing crapfest; the 2006 NBA Finals screw-job against Dallas- and I hate Dallas, but they were HOSED by the officials. Don’t believe me? Do a Google search for “2006 NBA Finals.” What’s the 2nd and third choices? Smoke there’s fire, son), I keep getting drawn in like a tubby kid passing Cold Stone Creamery.

I also always check out Canis Hoopus (weird, unhealthy Darko-mania indeed), the T-Wolves fan blog that has like, 20 guys on it that are either basketball savants, or they work in mind-numbingly boring jobs in Minneapolis skyways and have nothing better to do than run complicated algorithms on Evan Turner vs. John Wall. Most likely a combination of the two. Not that I’m complaining- I love the site. Makes me feel like I’m still ice-fishing instead of cursing a blue-streak at L.A. drivers. But it can be discouraging: “Yeah, I follow ball a bit.” No, you don’t, dood. Not like these guys do.

The point is this: because of the Hoopus guys salivating over the chance that the Wolves get the number one pick (we won’t- we’re McHaled- the new synonym for “doomed”) and running the numbers on Ohio State’s Evan Tuner, I was introduced to one Mark Titus, Pine-Rider Extraordinaire.

Check the style, one-time:

(Warrant song is great, but it could use a “Heaven Isn’t Too Far Away” third chorus key-change to elevate it to Code Awesome.)

Mark’s blog ‘n charity here. Buy a t-shirt. Help some kids, dammit.

KENWOODE UPDATE: Been quite the slug in 2010, I know. Just moved, had some freelance illustration to finish, and I’m finally settling down. I really do have finished pages to post, so I’ll be doing that this weekend. Promise. (Takes shot of tequila)

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OK Go- This Too Shall Pass

Abso-mfing-remarkable:

I fear they’ve innovated themselves into a corner. I mean, how the hell are they gonna top that?

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Vampire Weekend- Giving Up the Gun

Because, really, why wouldn’t Lil’ Jon be coaching tennis players how to return fireballs?

Contra is, if possible, an even better album than their debut. A perfect little pop masterpiece. And I bet they wrote this song ’cause someone in the band said, “Hey, we need to do something to the drum beat of In A Big Country.

When I was 17
I had wrists like steel
And I felt complete

And now my body fades
Behind a brass charade
And I’m obsolete

But if the chance remained
To see those better days
I’d cut the cannons down

My ears are blown to bits
From all the rifle hits
But I still crave that sound

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At First, Ice Cube Was Like:

Eventually, everyone gets a little less intense:

Also:

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Dream Baby Dream- Bruce Springsteen

This slays me.

The way Bruce performs this Suicide cover on the Devils and Dust Tour, it’s an incantation, a humble spell.

The song kind of circles you, and when you think it’s gonna give up, it doesn’t. A really nice moment when he rises, walks to the foot of the stage, and unabashedly, kindly, asks you to rise again, wipe your bloody mouth and tears, and smile. Keep your day-to-day bravery.

Quite frequently, I am in awe of Bruce Springsteen.

At night we ride through mansions of glory in suicide machines

It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap / We gotta get out while were young…

Coincidence? In one song? Not possible, man.

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Another Way to Die is NASTY

I realize this came out ages ago, but damn, I love this song. Fell asleep in the movie, but I think this song is just makes yer face go all screwy, in a good way, like you’re about to watch the Corey Brewer dunk over D Fish for the forty-second time on YouTube (if you haven’t seen that, do yourself a favor). The FUZZY guitar tone, that great room sound on the drums, the Linn “Computer Blue” echo-y hi-hat, that piano riff, all righteous. Even if Alicia seems to be flat on that bridge part. Well, maybe it’s not her, but SOMEONE’S flat.

People destroyed it on a lot of the YouTube comments, but they’re wrong. It’s just vicious. And if that’s actually Jack playing drums, man has got some taste, feel, and chops. It’s a perfect nasty little pop song.

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Paul Simon- Another Galaxy

My favorite track from Surprise. I love Vincent Nguini’s playing on this. Easily one of my favorite guitarists ever.

http://popup.lala.com/popup/360569479530776050

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Woof. (I’m All Fired Up and Stuff)

Apparently, this is Prince’s fight song for the Minnesota Vikings. I want it to be a joke really, really badly. I fear that it’s not. It’s got too many of his signature harmonies, hell, it sounds like Wendy and Lisa (or Jill) are singing it. Maybe it was recorded in the 80’s. It’s got that Little Girl Wendy’s Parade/Graffiti Bridge/Diamonds and Pearls/Dolphin lameness to it. And that Under a Cherry Moon vibe as well. Plus, there’s a guitar tone and riff in the back that just has to be him.

It’s sounds like he’s going for a 1920’s waltz-y fight song. I. Just. Don’t. Know.

I love Prince. But I (shudder) have to agree with Jim Rome on this: it’s brutal. And yes, Pants on the Ground yelled by Favre is better.

Come on, Prince! You wrote Purple Rain! Parade! Sign O the Times! Controversy!

Sigh.

I stand by my Prince and Jack White post.

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tUnE-yArDs is aWeSoMe

From 4AD’s website (label of the mighty TV on the Radio, and, of course, The Pixies):

tUnE-yArDs is the singular musical project of New England native Merrill Garbus.

Recording herself using a digital voice recorder and assembled using shareware mixing software, she was described by Stereogum as “a self-contained Sublime Frequencies compilation, jumping between blues, African tunes, shiny reggae-esque sprawls, and lo-fi folk.”

I love that. “You don’t have Pro-Tools, or AutoTune, or a studio.”

“Don’t bother me son, I’ve got music to make.”

“On what?”

“Sony portable digital recorder and Freeware. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

I heard Hatari the other day on Morning Becomes Eclectic and it almost took my head off. The rushed sample of the main riff sounds like a rickety Whoville Christmas contraption coming down Mulberry Street, with a rag-tag fugitive band dancing and playing around it as people coming pouring out of their homes to check out the racket. Haven’t bought the album yet, but believe me, I will.

Merrill performing Harari in Brussels in Sept. 09 after the jump:

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Matthew Ryan- Dear Lover

Well, he’s done it again.

I’d be hard pressed to think of an artist who has released as many great albums as Matthew Ryan has in the past 12 years. His latest, Dear Lover, is no different. Written from an emergency room (hopefully everything is ok now, either with Matthew’s family or himself), it’s yet another album of hopeful heartbreak, of people with bloody grins after they’ve been kicked in the teeth, of people with no Reason to Believe waiting on Amazing Grace.

Matthew’s a hard sell, I realize; he’s raw, he’s unvarnished, he’s true. Whenever I suggest him to people (which I do less than I should), I always add a warning: “Well, he’s kinda dark.” And he is. Yet I find his music endlessly uplifting, in the same way I find Shane McGowan, or Tom Waits, or The Ghost of Tom Joad uplifting. They don’t bullshit you. They don’t have time for false hope and bravado.

In Matthew’s songs, people keep going, man, they persevere. There’s a beauty in that, a humble majesty. I think one of the reasons it’s tough to spread the gospel of Mr. Ryan, of just how good he really is, is that I really feel you have to suggest him to people who look deeper, who have somewhat of a refined pallette, someone who’s not going to go, “Wow, his voice is rough.”

Yep. Sure is. Ain’t it grand?

I used to work at a record store in Minneapolis, and when we were closing, we would either put on the Flaming Lips or Tom Waits, generally ’cause they’d shake the hockey moms on out the door. One night, a woman came up late night, and asked, “Who IS this?” We were playing Rain Dogs. “It’s hideous,” she hissed. Oh, how the record store snobs laughed. I would not suggest Matthew Ryan to that woman.

And yet, I suggest Dear Lover to everyone. It’s got a Kraftwork meets early U2 meets Springsteen vibe to it. It’s raw like a journal entry, brave like a rejected first kiss. My favorites at this point are City Life, We Are Snowmen, The World Is…, and The End of a Ghost Story. I’m delighted to have a version of Some Streets Lead Nowhere, which is one of my favorites of his, ever. Spark reminds me of what it was like to hear Missing by Everything But The Girl in wintertime London.  Your Museum is a stark stained-glass piece that evokes The Waterboys; a sublime waltz in an abandoned church, decaying and crumbling buttresses open to the night sky.

The World Is… really floors me. It’s just a gorgeous piece of work. Like a man getting up to go to work in a town like Detroit, kissing his sleeping daughter, grabbing his coffee, and going to work, hoping against hope that he won’t get laid off today. The fight is fixed, but he’s lacing up his gloves regardless.

I could go on and on, really.

In the liner notes, in Matthew’s dedication, he writes:

I would suggest that you rail against the things or events that daunt you and/or your dreams with every consonant, vowel, sentence, idea and muscle in your mind and body.

Or, as Winston Churchill said,

Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never–in nothing, great or small, large or petty–never give in, except to convictions of honor and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.

Thanks again, Matthew. Keep ’em coming.

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A Coffee Toast to Mr. McGowan During This Yuletide Season, Man

Absolutely, unequivocally heartbreaking (and not just ’cause Kirsty is no longer with us):

There’s so many great Christmas songs: Sting’s Gabriel’s Message, Matthew Ryan’s Little Drummer Boy, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen by anyone, haunting melody after haunting melody. But there’s something about Shane McGowan’s voice that just crushes me. Makes me wish for Paul Westerberg to do a Christmas song. ‘Course, Paul would probably do something like “Santa Baby” just to piss everyone off.

Dammit, Paul, you’re ruining Christmas!

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RiP! A Remix Manifesto: Girl Talk, U2, and Walt Disney as Remixer

Just watched Brett Gaylor’s Rip! A Remix Manifesto on Hulu last night. I’m actually shocked that NBC, Fox and ABC (Disney) would have this online, in this format; despite its lionization of Disney the Man, Disney the Company is really taken to task here. Maybe it’s the “if we join them, they will disappear” belief. Or maybe they (Los Corporations Grandes) figure the animals have already left the zoo, and they can’t stop it, exhibited by their mere acceptance of Hulu as a business model. Don’t know.

What I do know is that the film is pretty damn good. I’ve been loosely paying attention to these issues since the U2 vs. Negativland debacle in the early nineties, which really made U2 look backwards at a time when they were actually creating some pretty forwards-looking music. I think Negativland would have looked a bit more serious if they hadn’t included the cover, which is pretty much a giant “U2” over a much smaller “Negativland.” You can claim “culture jamming” all you want, but when you transparently are looking for huge sales by being cheeky, I understand Island’s concern. Maybe not the legal overreaction, but the concern is valid.

(I also think Greg Ginn’s re-release with Negativ(e)land: Live on Tour album on SST is about as brilliant a response as possible- Negativland may have posed and said, “EXACTLY! That’s what we’re talking about!” but the loss of their “intellectual property” and the realization of Ginn’s masterful chess move must have stung a little.)

Regardless, I think Rip! and Girl Talk (the “band” that Gaylor champions- those quotes are not sarcastic, it’s actually one guy) are completely necessary right now, and Girl Talk to me is more of an idea than an actual band. (Much like The Sex Pistols are a better idea than a band- Never Mind the Bollocks… is a pretty good album, but it’s a better call-to-arms. The Clash were 10 times the band the Pistols were.) I love the idea of “everything is fair game, ’cause we’re all the same person” and I think the spirit of Girl Talk is much more interesting than the actual music- I listen to the songs and think, “That’s interesting,” but there’s an aspect of it (to me) that seems like a novelty. It’s not the music that’s important, it’s the crowd’s reaction to said music- much like the Pistols, it’s the movement that’s the star. And I think Girl Talk completely understands that.

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Rammstein vs. Cookie Monster

Pretty much the greatest thing in the history of the world:

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