We all know the hazards of record collecting: spending ridiculous amounts of cash and hours on ebay, never being able to move due to your daunting shelves of vinyl, hoarder syndrome, obsession, nostalgia, etc. But here’s proof that vinyl will do you in:
Ha, poor Fatboy Slim. He looks totally frazzled in these pics. I can almost feel the weight of his vinyl-stuffed backpack — strap mercilessly digging into soft shoulder flesh. Say what you will about digital media, but my iPod is looking pretty attractive right now.
The first thing is one of my very favorite works by Kurt Vonnegut, a short story from 1961, Harrison Bergeron. In my opinion, this mega-short work is one of the finest modern short stories. Harrison Bergeron is up there with Flannery O’Connor’s excellent Everything That Rises Must Converge, but much, much different. Although both stories are based around the theme of equality and both works comment eloquently and without cheesy sentiment on the nature of the human condition.
On a much different note, here’s a great clip by the Black Lips where they come off sounding more like the Stone Roses, with Veni Vidi Vici:
I’ve still yet to catch this LA-based punk/noise/pop duo live, even though they seemingly play every weekend here when not on tour. I showed up with my friends for the Central Library free daytime No Age/Mika Miko gig a couple of months back, but sadly the library auditorium was at capacity when we arrived. The fire department was there to turn us away along with a sizable throng of well dressed post-punk and new wave kiddies who were there to take advantage of the all ages activity. I dig this band’s new album Nouns and their previous collection of singles, entitled Weirdo Rippers.
No Age have been getting lots ‘o’ hype lately and seem to have still kept their integrity and wits fairly intact. Read this cool LA Times article to learn more of their brushes with celebrity and staunch vegan ethos. Then watch the killer Eraser video:
I grew up in suburban Houston from about ‘87-92, the years which spanned the end of junior high through my high school graduation. Ah Houston, a sprawling and lame megalopolis nested in the swamp-like climate of southeast Texas. Well, apparently Houston is still lame. Today I came across a great article summing up Houston’s lackluster music scene. I imagine this piece will bore the living hell out of you if you’re not from Houston or Texas, but I found it interesting, thorough and well-written:
If you haven’t seen this vintage Butthole Surfers short film, you’ll either stone or thank me for thrusting the twisted brilliance upon yr virgin eyeballs. Thanks to the miracle of Youtube, Entering Texas is no longer out of circulation. Enjoy:
In what seems like fodder for an Onion article, Neil Young has had a species of spider named after him. And apparently he’s not the first rock and roller to claim this arthropod honor. Roy Orbison and his widow, Barbara, have a whirligig beetle (Orectochilus orbisonorum) named after them. But an important question looms in my mind: will the Neil Young spider be able to effectively sport chops, hats and flannels as well as its namesake? Furthermore, can this spider even play guitar?
Two days ago my band, Naughty Bird, had the pleasure of warming up the stage for one of garage rock’s finest combos, the Woggles. Rarely does a band inspire me to shake it with abandon and leave me begging for more. These guys are all top-notch songwriters, musicians and performers wrapped up in one soulfully Southern (they’re from Atlanta) package. I felt like a teenage girl seeing the Beatles for the first time. I’m still giddy from Wednesday’s show.
Here’s a short Youtube clip of the boys showing off some of their signature swingin’ moves:
Harry Smith is the kind of guy who makes me feel guilty. Guilty for not going out and making art and documenting the human experience every minute of every hour of every day. Watching a folk music documentary on the Ovation channel tonight, I was reacquainted with the genius of Harry Smith. Harry Smith compiled (from his own collection) the legendary Anthology of American Folk Music, which was released in 1952 on Folkways Records. In 1965 he went on to record and produce the first record by avant folk/rock pranksters, the Fugs. Not only that, he was at one time “the greatest living magician” according to the godfather of experimental cinema, Kenneth Anger. Because even before Harry was capturing magical music, he was making magic with film. Check this piece out:
The life and work of Harry Smith is severly interesting. Visit his website here. And though I have only started this bad boy, here’s a hefty and heady analysis of Smith’s films, entitled Alchemical Transformations: The Abstract Films of Harry Smith (Jamie Sexton). Now, go make art.
