Kind of like clean air, sustainable agriculture and potable water, good dance music is something the world could always use more of. Emphasis on good because there’s plenty of shit dance music out there.
But let’s stay positive, shall we? Body Language is so utterly competent at making music that makes your brain respond in the only logical way it can: to move your body. It may not be the answer to our planet’s rapidly depleting resources but in more instances than one, nu disco (or any reason to dance for that matter) seems like a pretty solid answer for many of life’s quandaries.
I just wanted to share what could be my favorite track of all time from my favorite album of all time by my favorite band of all time. I don’t even listen to this song anymore because I’m afraid of what would happen if I was to get sick of it and I can’t let that happen. So I treat myself to this song when I’M REALLY FEELING A LOT OF FEELS, BRUH.
Funeral encapsulates so many feels that I just bask in tears alone in my car sometimes listening to this album. I’m just kidding..
But even more exciting is that Arcade Fire has announced the release date of their next album so mark your calendars for SEPTEMBER 9, FOLKS!
Unsurprisingly, the musical shift from (sort of) 60’s psychedelia to (sort of) 80’s synth pop is just another day in the office for the London based Still Corners. A day in the office for me consists of the consumption of a banana or two (maybe some yogurt if I’m feeling particularly adventurous), and the careful optimization of a handful of accounts for some of mobile gaming’s top publishers.
I’ll let you decide which is more impressive.
Regardless of what you decide, Strange Pleasures, the duo’s second full-length release is a delightful romp through the hazy, synthetic landscapes of the human mind (which is just a creative way of saying “nowhere in particular”).
Now, fans of Creatures of an Hourshould not agonize over this sudden (Although I’m not sure 2 years falls into the category of sudden) paradigm shift. Much of what made the eclectic pairing of Greg Hughes and Tessa Murray so satisfying remains present in their latest offering. Murray’s voice continues to float on with an ethereal flair, coupled intimately by layer after shadowy layer of rhythmic percussion. It’s damn good.
And you know those changes I was talking about? Those are damn good as well. Because where Creatures of an Hour felt right at home nestled in the dark caverns of your mind, Strange Pleasures finds its repose somewhere a bit further away. Somewhere unobstructed by the engulfing darkness that often accompany cave-like ecosystems. You know, like a hazy, synthetic place. A landscape if you will.
Anyway, Murray probably puts it best in the opening lines of the song:
We can’t see what’s real, we don’t know the time. We only want to feel alive.
Joshua Tillman, the man behind Father John Misty, wrote a song about writing a novel. The song of course, is the story of a protagonist (presumably Tillman himself) who takes a precarious amount of drugs, and does a lot of interesting things.
It’s a precarious thing to confront because it’s never really convenient (and I want my damn convenience). Humans, for better or worse, are creatures of habit. We don’t like change. It upsets us. It scares us. But ultimately, it consumes us.
And as with every other fundamental human complexity (love, hate, sex, and fuck it, love again), change makes for a great tune. Or album. Or whatever. “Weight”, off of Mikal Cronin’s latest release MCII, is a perfect example of this (which explains why I’d lead in with so such a musically deficient introduction).
While it probably would have made a lot more sense to talk about another song on the album (called "Change"), I would rather take the harder route, because the harder route equates to more words. I like words. Anyway, all it takes is about 15 seconds to realize that “Weight” and most of MCII is concerned with change, and its often inconsistent role in our daily lives.
The song opens with a lovely piano melody, that quickly changes (see what I did there? it’s all symbolic) to a jangly, distortion infused pop song. Of course, I mean that in the best way possible way, as jangly, distortion infused pop songs are my favorite. And while “Weight” is full of aurally pleasing elements, I was most captivated by the sincerity of Cronin’s lyrics.
Maybe that’s because I can relate. Change certainly has a very specific weight to it, and after a while, that weight gets a bit too overbearing. Especially when it comes to interpersonal relationships. Those are the worst. No, but really, they do take their toll. I’m no scientist, but I will boldly claim that weight of change in these situations eventually becomes too much to handle. Or maybe that’s not it. Maybe it’s the anticipation of having to reinvest so much of yourself into someone all over again.
Yeah, that sounds better. Or maybe I’ll change it later. Maybe.
I’m writing this from a cramped table at a local cafe here in San Francisco’s Mission District, sipping on what appears to be steamed milk with a hint of chai.
Why am I painting such a specific scene, with such an added emphasis on a meaningless cup of milky chai?
Well, if you haven’t noticed, I enjoy complementing my musical dissections with personal anecdotes. Just go with it. Anyway, I originally thought it would be a great idea to enjoy a chai latte, but since it was fairly late, I decided it would be better without the caffeine. Hence, the steamed milk with a touch of chai.
I bring this up not because I enjoy talking about Chai, or about San Francisco. No, I bring this up because listening to Mazes is a lot like sipping on my milky concoction. Take a deliciously diverse base, and add a hint of your favorite flavor and you’ve got a winner (or at the very least, something better than a loser).
In this case, that delicious base is a choice blend of 60’s and 70’s rock melodies, with a touch of Dinosaur Jr. inspired vocals. Alright, so that may not be the best comparison I’ve ever made. But it does illustrate the point I was trying to make.
This is my favorite song by them. This cup of chai? Not my favorite. But then again, I did ask for it.
This is a little selfish of me but I was slightly (very slightly) disappointed the world didn’t end the other day. I just wanted to see what would happen next.
It’s always exciting when you come across music you could see yourself listening to as the world around you is ending. I thought that when I came across Sleep Party People. Their’s is perfect music for when you’re about to cease to exist.
I have always been a fan of the way Woods blends traditional acoustic melodies with a touch of psychedelic freshness that invokes warm days on the open range (while on acid or something equally mind melting).
Bend Beyond was released in the latter half of 2012, in September. While there was (understandably) a great amount of hype surrounding the band’s seventh full-length album, it did not disappoint (which hard enough to do in a time where seemingly everything is overhyped). Bend Beyond is a different album than we’ve come to expect from one of Brooklyn’s finest bands, but is in no way a slight against them.
The essence of what made Woods one of my favorite bands in over the last decade is still ever-present. They just changed their wardrobe around a bit.
That’s cool. You can’t wear the same clothes forever.
Twin Shadow released Forget in 2010, and along with contemporaries Toro Y Moi and Washed Out, helped to spark a new (but arguably old) musical movement blending the shimmery synths of the 80’s with, well, whatever you’d classify modern music as today.
Two years later, Mr. George Lewis Jr. debuted his sophomore album Confess.
Five seconds ago, I decided that it was one of my favorite songs of 2012.
Naturally, I’m going to cheat on this first one, since technically this was released five years ago, but who gives a shit, THE WORLD IS ENDING, REMEMBER?
I tend to stay from unreleased content because there is usually a justifiable reason it was never thrown into the adoring arms of the public in the first place (that’s putting it nicely), but John Maus is obviously different. This particular collection of songs is better than what most artists put out these days, and “Bennington” is my absolute favorite of the pack.
In fact, it would probably be my favorite Maus song, if it wasn’t for this little number which was released a full year later.
Which reminds me, Maus also happens to be an awesome graphic novel.
2012 has been a fantastic year for music. In fact, I can’t remember a year that I’ve enjoyed new releases as much as now (and that’s saying a lot, trust me). My wallet can’t seem to remember a year I’ve enjoyed as much either, as the stack of incriminating LP’s in the corner of my room clearly indicates.
The best part of this influx of musical goodness? We still have an entire month before the year ends.
December is the month of holiday cheer, and while most people are understandably grabbing for their new Sufjan Steven’s Christmas album (or alternatively, this) I’d look elsewhere.
I was delighted to hear that Brendan had completed work on the album (which is slated for a January 15th release date) a few days ago. The timing couldn’t be better, as Wolf Like A Stray Dog is the perfect companion to the cold days ahead (a reoccurring theme across the album’s 11 tracks), providing listeners with an eccentric alternative to well, almost everything. Which is good. No wait, it’s great.
You can listen to the album in its entirety over on their bandcamp.
I recently just came back from an amazing trip to the motherland (South Korea) and K-pop music isn’t as rampant as you would imagine. Well, maybe it is, but the K-indie scene has seen a rise in popularity too. I don’t know if the interest comes from the international rise of the Korean Wave but nonetheless, it’s really nice to see that the arts in Korea are being noticed in a country that works SO hard for it (but with little pay-off).
I was shopping in an underground mall when I heard 10cm. I recognized the song but there are certain moments in your life when a song is just so appropriate for that moment.
This was that song. The perfect song at the perfect moment.
It didn’t necessarily strike any chords with me when I first heard it on the web and hearing it in Korea just set it for me. That is the thing about traveling. Everything becomes fresh and new by happenstance.
"Their title track “Fine, Thank You, and You?” is an attempt at recreating the sounds of the ’60s with the Beatles as inspiration and makes use of vintage drums and guitars that can’t actually be used in standard recordings.” which I reckon Joe would enjoy.
Also, It’s funny that they chose the phrase “Fine Thank you and you?” because it holds somewhat of comedic value in Korea. It’s one of the default responses a lot of Koreans say when asked to speak in English and most often results in a chuckle. I think the phrase became more popular when comedians added their staccato twist to it and it became a trend.
I started writing about music on a whim a few years back. I had very little experience in this particular craft prior to the inception of The Digital Outhouse, and never thought it would evolve into what it is today. In many ways, it’s surprising.
What I enjoy most about my little piece of the internet pie is how everyone at TDO blends real life with the music we share. Each post is a look into our personal lives, and the music driving us along the long, winding road.
Minutes before writing this I was lying on my couch, deep in contemplation of life’s wondrous intricacies (because, why not?). Alright fine, I was lying there bored out of my mind. I couldn’t decide what to do. Play video games? Go for a walk? Call someone? Read?
Then I thought, “why not write?”. I walked over to my computer, logged into tumblr, and headed straight to writer’s purgatory (better known as “drafts”). I found this particular song, one I had saved several weeks ago.
I couldn’t have picked a better one to convey my feelings today.
It’s really more like: get up, rub your eyeballs, put your pants on while brushing your teeth, stumble out the door while grabbing a piece of bread, make your bus while tying your shoes, sit at your desk while trying to maintain proper posture, make friendly conversation with everyone to maintain a social status quo while calculating how much time you have before you can go home, go home, put food in your mouth, sleep, wake up. Repeat.
This is why I like music so much.
Sure, too much of it can sort of shut you off from the world but any amount of it can change the most prosaic routine into something colorful and lively. Dramatic even. Maybe it’s just in my life that I allow music like Animal Collective to have this great an impact on my bread eating and bus catching. But I’m not quite sure why you wouldn’t want something like that anyway.
I had the wonderful opportunity to see Chromatics live for the first time last week at Pitchfork’s music festival in Paris.
The setting couldn’t have been better. With the crowd gathering in front of the stage in the intimate confines of the Grande Halle de la Villette (well, intimate for a music festival), Chromatics unleashed a barrage of disco inspired tunes that had me dancing from the first note.
There is probably nothing more I appreciate about Southern California than its beautiful ability to produce some of the nicest music in the world. Those perky guitar chords and chirpy melodies. It must be a byproduct of the weather and the palm trees. And the over-abundance of good Mexican food. It must.
When I lived in LA, I always kept K-EARTH 101 as a preset. People like me, born before the 1990s but not before 1980, can always turn to oldies when nothing satiates us. I know when I don’t feel like listening to Lady Gaga (which is all the time if you listen to mainstream radio) or Gavin DeGraw (also do not have a high capacity for hearing his lyrics. Sorrynotsorry), I can turn on an oldies station or play music from The Mamas and the Papas or Simon and Garfunkel and it actually resonates with me.
Summer Twins come from the same generation as me. Raised on a steady diet of their father’s rock and roll albums, they’re now re-creating a sound that I think would be cool if the current young generation could resonate with when they’re my age. Though I suppose there isn’t anything truly wrong with letting Taio Cruz and Ellie Goulding define what will be “classic oldies” in ten years.
Yes. I suppose.
Anyway, the rock and roll dream thrives with these two sisters and moreover, with their rad label, Burger Records, based in Orange County. “I Don’t Care” is also downloadable for no money whatsoever. So if you needed some modern day satiation, you’ve really got your work cut out for you.
Truth be told, I haven’t always appreciated Toro y Moi for who he is to me now (that sounded a bit off but let’s go with it). When hazy electronic grooves — chillwave or glo-fi, essentially — and bedroom producers were first striking the Internet airwaves, I was extremely non-committal. Traditional instrumentals was one thing but part of me was resistant to the idea of taking lo-fi digital equipment or looped vocals so seriously. Hadn’t this been done in the 70s? Were the Beach Boys not good enough? How is any of this “new music”? That and the rapid growth of borderline tacky band names (Com Truise, Dananananakroyd, Dale Earnhardt. Jr. Jr., Your Favorite Celebrity Plus Some Crazy Outlandish Noun Attached To It, etc.) had the old soul in me groaning a bit.
But oh isn’t it funny how things change.
In retrospect, Toro y Moi, was one of the first proprietors of the new chillwave genre, now that it has exploded into a googleplex and one subgenres. He also safely remains one of the most original. Sure, this music has been around before, in difference iterations and time periods. But right now in 2012, this is what electronic, lo-fi music sounds like. Toro y Moi, along with so many others, are trying to embody what chillwave or glo-fi — or music in general, dammit — sounds like to the 21st century audience listener. And can I really blame him if so many people like it?
I’m usually a sucker to my own pre-conceived notions of anything. Which, of course, means guess who is readying herself for the drop of Anything InReturn? Yours truly, of course. Of couuuurse.
I’ll always think of “Low Shoulder” as the one that turned me on to Toro y Moi for good. The lyrics are so sweet and I usually cannot resist anything that was recorded live at the Daytrotter Studios. So consider this my white flag, Chazmataz. I wouldn’t want you in the shoulder either.
In another life, Skip Skip Ben Ben hails from New York by way of Colorado (or some other equally borderline obscure state that would be the perfect place for aspiring musicians to come from). They’re signed with the equivalent of Sacred Bones in the late 80’s and play bills with Pixies and Sonic Youth. They can be spotted wearing flannel while smoking stale Marlboro Reds somewhere on Bleeker Street.
That’s how I’d imagine life for SSBB if they were from New York and not Taiwan. Seriously, if you played their record without doing any Google research, and I told you this this band was going to play on David Letterman next week, you would probably believe me. Even after listening to half of their lyrics in Chinese.
Unfortunately, the same principle that applies to real estate applies to music: location, location, location. SSBB is, however, signed to Beijing’s premier (and probably only) indie label, Maybe Mars, so hopefully that will help with their distribution? Given China’s gigantic population, it’s really too bad there isn’t a Brooklyn in Beijing (how insane would that be?) but I guess that’s what makes New York, well, New York. Until then, SSBB can find some support here.
But being musically trained as an opera singer, Winston actually has incredible range in addition to a truly unique voice. She doesn’t quite sound like anyone else, which gives her entry to make really good covers. Plus her instrumentation is uplifting and energetic, channeling Florence and the Machine-type tempos, inadvertently saving her from ever sounding too ghoulish. In addition to her covers, her music also makes for really good remixes, as anyone from RAC to Star Slinger can attest.
Then again, aside from “Velvet Elvis”, “Sister Wife”, the track Winston is most known for and it’s about polygamy. Or at the very least, a pretty twisted mènage á tois. And actually, “Velvet Elvis” is about having celebrity worship syndrome for The King of Rock and Roll. So maybe we’re back to the creepy genre after all. That is, unless you’re cool with any (or all?) of that.
You can already hear the album via Spotify or Rdio though, and you best believe that it’s good. “Spraypaint” is one of my early favorites, but since I’m only human, there’s a high probability this will not be true tomorrow.
While I support Shannyn Sossamon and her various endeavors (yes, that definitely includes A Knight’s Tale), I do wish she had opted to pursue her musical carrer with Warpaint rather than focus solely on her acting career.
Taken at its most granular level, music as a form of entertainment has remained fairly consistent since the days of Vincent Van Gogh and Jack the Ripper (one of the oldest surviving recordings of sound dates back to 1888). Artists continue to create music, and their adoring audiences continue to consume it. The medium for this exchange however, has evolved immensely.
Music labels in particular, have seen their value fluctuate over the last decade. Society’s gravitation towards digital formats, and the accessibility of this platform for artists yearning for mass distribution, has undermined one of the primary roles music labels have traditionally held.
Change, of course, happens. Music in particular has always been at the forefront of fostering both technological and aesthetic improvements to the listening experience. From MTV to MP3’s to Spotify, the industry (in general) has demonstrated a willingness to adapt (though, arguably, because they didn’t really have a choice).
Labels help to alleviate the financial burdens that many artists face, allowing them to concentrate on making you know, music. Their long standing relationships with radio stations, marketing professionals and venue owners also allow artists to focus on… you guessed it, the music.
If musicians are like little caterpillars, gnawing away at the leaves (and smoking them too) around them, then music labels surely represent the sturdy, protective cocoons necessary for them to grow into the beautiful butterflies we all know they are. Which is great. Artists need that.
But what do listeners need? Well, better music taste would be great, but that’s subjective (and I’m an asshole) so I’ll disregard that. No, what listeners need (not unlike the general population) is some help filtering through the enormous amount of music being thrown at them on a daily basis.
Media curation. It’s like, in vogue and totally cool.
Blogs have emerged as an excellent choice for music discovery (clearly), but I still believe that music labels do a pretty damn good job at putting together rosters of talented artists. One label in particular has continued to impress, and that’s Brooklyn based collective, Sacred Bones.
You might have seen their records in stores (they all carry the label’s iconic triangle), and at the very least, you’ve probably heard of one of their artists. While Sacred Bones isn’t the oldest kid on the block (2012 marks their fifth year in existence), it is obvious they have the uncanny ability to find and expose some of the most captivating and eccentric bands in existence today.
One of those artists, Moon Duo, recently released their second LP entitled Circles. It’s a fantastic album, and one of my favorites of the year. It’s the perfect soundtrack to the fall, especially if you’re into dancing in cemeteries. I’ve actually categorized them in my iTunes library as “Cemetery Dance Music”.
Nonsensical music classifications aside, Moon Duo, and the rest of the Sacred Bones troop have been on a tear this year, and in the process of doing so have provided us with a reminder why record labels will continue to be around for a long time.
It’s been said that integrating creative habits into your every day routines can stimulate inspiration. Brush your teeth with your non-dominant hand. Take a different route to work. If you can’t take a different route to work, imagine what would happen if the weather drastically changed your current route — what would you do if there was snow? A flood? An invasion of child zombies?
Admittedly, my go-to genres of music are indie and hip hop with some variation in between. But I find my most rewarding music listening moments when I come across a song by an artist I know relatively nothing about — and it’s even more crazy rewarding when that artist happens to be insanely successful.
Enter Diplo. Of course, I’ve heard of the guy. Everyone has. He has over 600,000 Twitter followers (of which I am one, can you believe it). He’s has collaborated with everyone from Björk to freaking Shaggy. Or rather “everyone from Shaggy to freaking Björk.” Yes, definitely the latter. And definitely not freaking either Björk nor Shaggy.
But my point being despite the fact that I knew so much about this dude peripherally, I still couldn’t name a single song he’d actually produced. And this was probably because I had never really broken my music listening habits. That is up until I found myself on some rooftop in the middle of the night and this song came on and I liked it. And I realized I needed to go home and change some of my music preferences.
If you were wondering, I did just philosophize a Diplo song on your asses. I’m mildly sorry about that but I’m also thinking you’ll thank me because this song isn’t all that bad.
Is there something about traveling that opens a person up to more music than usual? I wonder because lately I don’t think having three heads and six ears would be enough to take in everything I’ve been hearing.
I consider myself silly for not being aware that giggling children or public service announcements in Japanese could be made into music, but they can and they have been. I owe my awareness to Ezequiel de la Parra, the Argentinian fellow behind Los Jardines de Bruselas. As he claims to be “inspired by dreams, adventures through space, travels to the sun and aquatic safaris”, I find myself completely believing him, especially after hearing his dreampop-alt-rock music. Then again: “Que toda la vida es sueño, y los sueños, sueños son,” or so it’s been said by at least one other person. (More or less, “All of life is a dream but dreams are nothing but dreams.”)
Of “Light and Glow”, the album on which “On the Moon (Together)” resides, Parra says “the entire album was conceived during the strangest and most beautiful days of my life.” The profundity of that statement doesn’t escape me. And if Parra told me he took that background image while standing on a nebula, I wouldn’t doubt him. (Yes, a nebula with trees, in case you were wondering.)
But of course, sun, space and time travel have always been available to those who travel via the portal of music.
No, this band has captivated me simply by churning out special music, track after track after track. Frontman John Dwyer (who is also linked to over 10 other musical endeavors), continually pushes the boundaries of the lo-fi, psychedelic (or whatever the hell you want to call it) music scene, which is even more astonishing given the frequency of the band’s releases.
And let’s not forget their San Francisco roots. Winner.
I’m not sure if there’s a right way to wind-down Summer, particularly as an “adult” (I use the term loosely here as I don’t think I am qualified to make mature observations without some kind of disclaimer).
Summer, up until I was about 22 years old, was well defined. It began sometime in May, and ended sometime in September. Summer, in general, wasn’t a season of the year; it was a mindset.
At some point however, all of that ended.
Luckily, music exists.
Bands like the Diamond Messages embody all the sound, and joy of those carefree years. Which is great. Because I don’t really care about the weather.
If you’ve ever had to exercise snap judgment in a place that sells food, you’ll understand the small quandary I’m in. I find myself at an impasse over which Rifle Men song to include and I probably won’t decide until I absolutely force myself to click “Create post”. Even then I’ll probably wonder if I made the right choice.
But unlike ordering food at a restaurant, you can have your giant cheeseburger and hot dog and eat them too. (Though I guess you could order both if you really wanted to) Go here and gorge on all of their tunes.
Rifle Men is great, wholesome, pure American indie pop. Sure, their sound might not be the most groundbreaking but they do the genre right. What I’m more concerned about is their lyricism, which I hope isn’t overlooked for pretty guitar chords or those impeccable bass drum beats every indie band knows how to make.
Skinny dipping at the lake. Chasing trains in Brooklyn. Breaking the law. Reflections on turning another year older. It’s not just my rascally adolescent side who gets it. Songs about unembarrassed love always deserve some attention, don’t you think?
They also made this little music video which sort of trumps any reason you might have had to not like them as much as you should.
Well, not literally, but figuratively speaking. I know, guys are always going on about how spectacular their “man caves” are, but due to the “distinctive” design choices implemented by the house’s original architects, my room receives no natural lighting.
It’s an actual cave.
There is one window located on the far side of my room, but it is made of frosted glass, and opens to another room. If you turn off the lights in the middle of the day, everything goes pitch black. Even Vin Diesel would disapprove.
However, it isn’t as depressing as it sounds (or rather, as I’m making it sound).
I have learned to distract myself from my unintentionally vampiric ways by relying on other elements such as music.
Recently, my “sunshine” of choice has been the aptly named Heavenly Beat, side project of Beach Fossils' John Peña. The combination of soothing guitar melodies and shimmering synths undoubtedly evoke warm, effervescent feelings of nostalgia (particularly of endless summers spent lounging on voluminous beach rockers).
There has been a steady amount of buzz leading up to the release of Tame Impala’s second full-length record, Lonerism, and while buzz often leads to disappointment (unfortunately Animal Collective, I’m sort of looking at you) I get an inkling that this particular release won’t be letting anyone down.
I could be wrong though. Either way, we’ll find on October 9 when the album is released.
I haven’t been this excited about a band in so long.
The band name explained: “the delta sign is created when you hold down the alt key on your computer keyboard and punch ‘J’ on a Mac computer… in mathematical equations it’s used to show change,” and the band’s relatively new name came at a turning point in their lives.
I’m a sucker for catchy intros so when I first heard this song I was like “meh” but at the 0:27 mark, my ovaries imploded. This song sort of weaves in and out from this very hard tune to a whimsical one and it works and I love it.
Click here for another post on this glorious band.
Stripped down to its essence, music functions as one of of the most basic forms of emotional communication between humanity.
One of my favorite authors, Aldous Huxley, once said "After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music". It should be noted that Huxley was also a strong of advocate of LSD and its use in opening the doors of perception (which coincidentally is the inspiration behind the name of some band called The Doors).
For me however, the beauty of this communication lies not in the words themselves (and the underlying life mantras of sex and drugs that also seem to come attatched to popular music), but rather, in the subtle hints of something beyond those words. For anyone who has ever attempted to write music, you’ll know that the difficulty of compressing raw, human emotion within each artfully crafted lyric is no walk in the park. Each word represents a small fragment of the artist’s existence, a glimpse into the internal workings of a vastly complex machine.
This is what keeps drawing me back to this particular track from The Dirty Projector’s 2009 release, Bitte Orca.
The innumerable layers of complexity housed in this five-minute existential behemoth clearly demonstrates the beauty and intricacy of not only music and its intrinsic power, but of life as a whole.
Near the end of the song, the ladies pose listeners with the following question:
Isn’t life just a mirage of the world before the world?
Perhaps it is.
And perhaps the only thing tethering us to reality is music itself.
I had quite the laborious Labor Day Weekend. I unexpectedly had to work on Saturday, help my friend and his fiance move on Sunday, and then help my other friend move on Monday. After helping my friend move on Monday night, we hit up a really dope Chinese restaurant in SF, which played some really good music.
This song complimented our amazing meal. If you’re ever in SF, craving Chinese food, and listening to good music, hit up Mission Chinese Food.
In another life, I wanted to be Barbara Walters. I used to sit at home and pretend I was a news anchor (more specifically, a middle-aged White female anchor). At the time, being an anchor to me meant shuffling papers on a table while repeating the line, “And that’s all the time we have tonight. Thanks for joining us on this edition of ‘20/20’,” over and over again.
It was mad cute, yo. Trust.
Tonight I went to a panel featuring some pretty impressive journalists and it rekindled my love for that kind of journalism — raw, unrestrained, democratic news. The discussion was vibrant, lively, and even controversial, especially after one of the panelists, a radio talk show host, decided to up and leave once the moderator refused to show a trailer of a film he had been working on. (The trailer looked horrible anyway) (No, like Windows Movie Maker horrible)
Moments before his adult tantrum, he mentioned that his radio show was worth millions of dollars, as if those in the audience weren’t already aware of just how successful he was. 6 mill, yo.
So he left the panel, saying he didn’t need to be there if they weren’t going to play his trailer. Which was just fine by the moderator.
The funny thing is, after he had gotten off the stage, I saw him turn around, almost waiting for that opportunity to be invited back and reverse his decision.
After everything was over and the catering staff began to file in, someone said, “Yeah, in the end it wasn’t that unexpected for “Greg” to have done that. He’s in radio, he’s a personality.”
Ah, personalities. Aren’t they just human beings too, though?
6-mill man, I hope you have heard this song before. It would have made your chauffeured drive home or lonely walk to the subway that much more dramatic. And enjoyable.
Happy Friday, y’all. The workday before a long weekend usually drags on for what seems likes an eternity. Today is different, however. I don’t exactly know why. Maybe it has something to do with the blue moon that is occurring today. Whatever it is, I hopefully will be relaxing to this song with a nice glass of whiskey somewhere.
I’m trying my best to contextualize why this particular Green Day track was important to my childhood. Instead, I find that my mind is set on overdrive. The clock is laughing in my face. A crooked spine; my sense dulled. Passes the point of delirium.
I mention this because said text box will usually remain blank for quite some time as I scour my thoughts for decent commentary. Like pimpin’, writin’ ain’t easy.
But today, I find myself in a different dilemma. Today, I have too much to write about. And I owe it all to you. Wait no, I meant Francisco y Madero.
I came across this enigmatic band yesterday, at a Vice party in San Francisco. Aside from the allure of (essentially) free beer, the event poster strategically marketed the band as “a Mexican version of Animal Collective”. This was intriguing for several reasons. And there was the beer. So I went.
Enjoyable is one word to describe the night.
Francisco y Madero had a commanding stage presence, complete with trippy light shows and maracas. Their music sounds like, well, Animal Collective but was also equal parts Motown, 60’s psychedelia, and latin american groove. So yes. It was quite enjoyable. And there was also all that beer.
A quick look around the lush gardens of the internet showed very little in ways of information about the enigmatic band. In fact, the top search result leads you to the Wikipedia page of one Francisco I. Madero. Who also happens to be reasonably interesting, though I do not believe he was a big supporter of psychedelic music. I can’t be sure.
Thankfully, I eventually found their bandcamp. You can listen to most of their music there.