I like these guys. They're from Minne- apolis. Like Bob Dylan, and Brother Ali, and Jerry Lundegaard. So, points right there. Plus they write lyrics like, "Even now/ In solitude and stress/ I've been a better lover with your mother." Whatever that means. As long as they're not talking about my mother, I don't give a shit. This track is from their debut full-length, The Loon. If you like it, they have a bunch more free mp3s on their website.
I don't like posting stuff that Pitchfork is currently hyping because, you know, why bother. But I couldn't sleep nights if I didn't draw as much attention to this record as possible. Girl Talk is this dude from Pittsburgh who has taken the mash-up form and pushed it into the realm of the mentally unstable. He samples riffs/verses/beats from a retarded number of sources and crams them into dancefloor bangers, making Z-Trip look like a lazy fuckin deadbeat. Night Rider, is his third release and I suspect you'll be hearing a lot of it this summer. Here's your head-start.
In case you ain't heard, TV on the Radio's new album, Return to Cookie Mountain, is out. I haven't been listening to much else for the past week. (Why go out when you got the good shit at home?) This will be the record that nudges them into householdnamedom. So, if you want to feel like you're in on the secret, you better hurry. They have some funny video promos on their website. David Cross is in one and the kid from Me and You and Everyone We Know plays the President in another. Nothin wrong with that.
When Jeru dropped his second album, Wrath of the Math in '96 with the epic Premiere beats, the playa-hatin lyrics and that oh-so buttery flow, me and my Maple Ridge friends decided that as long as we had a big bag of weed and the CD on repeat, we would never have to leave my parents garage. Alas, the spell wore off and the last of us left the garage some years ago. But, thanks to guys like MF Doom, that dank, resin-stained, concrete box lives on in the 2G, if only in our hearts. Here's a track from one of Metal Face's numerous instrumental/accapella Special Blend releases.
Look at these upstanding young citizens. They don't want to kick your ass. They just want to play you some really eccentric pop music. The dude in front is Daniel Smith from Clarksboro, New Jersey. He and his revolving-door collaborators record under the name Danielson. (which I choose to believe is a clever Karate Kid reference) And their new album, Ships, is receiving quite the critical rim-job. Allow me to toss my humble tongue into the mix. This album is full of surprises. A new song jumps out at me with every listen. You can safely file it next to your Arcade Fire, Decemberists, Frog Eyes and Sufjan Stevens albums. Just don't tell Daniel. I think he'd prefer to live beside Wesley Willis.
The Russian Futurists is this kid, Matthew Adam Hart, from Toronto. I don't go in for nationalism much but this guy has me scarfing down canadian flags smothered in maple syrup. Trying to describe his sound is an exercise in futility. Maybe...Sufjan Stevens produced by Mad Lib? Ugh. I knew I shouldn't have tried.
Enon is one of those bands. Those bands you know you'll probably like but choose to ignore because you don't want to be into a band called Enon. Well, I'm hear to tell you to get over it. Try to not like this song from their 2005 release of b-sides and rarities, Lost Marbles and Exploded Evidence. If you can do it, I'll never mention them again. And yes, that's the girl from Blonde Redhead.
You have to have pretty sublime taste to pull off mash-ups anymore. And even more sublime taste to pull off a mash-up of Hollaback Girl; the most relentlessly, violently, annoyingly remixed song in the history of the universe. So, rats off to local DJ, Paul Devro. You know Stevie doesn't hollaback. Love the bird.
This is the first rap song I ever slow-danced to. Come to think of it, this is the only rap song I ever slow-danced to. How come we don't get more slow-dance rap songs? Maybe it's because love-searches make us bug.
In honour of their debut CD, which hits stores tomorrow (o6-06-06), here's a song from the next big thing out of East Van; Ladyhawk. This first single is surprisingly clean and accessible. I kinda miss the ear-bleed guitars and yelping vocals of their live show but I guess it's cool to actually hear the melodies and lyrics.
A lot of people don’t know that San Diego is actually the saddest place in the world. Don’t let the leaping dolphins and swimsuit models fool you. It’s a soul sucking hell-hole. At least that’s what I take from The Black Heart Procession’s music. These guys can out melancholy bands from Berlin, Reykjavik, even Seattle. Although, my suspicion that this was something of an affectation was confirmed when I saw them play live and they kept cracking corny jokes about their beer guts. It was a bit of a relief to know that no one was really that depressed. No matter what their motivations, BHP have been remarkably consistent in the quality and character of their music over the past decade. And here, on their 5th full length, they continue to make the sexiest suicide music going.
It must have been fun to be Iggy Pop. It probably still is, but you know, in the 70's. You get to parade across the stage, jeans hanging off your perfect ass, growling into the mic while every single person in the audience simultaneously wishes with all their heart that they were just a little bit like you. But nobody is anything like you so you got nothing to worry about.
Oh, Jason Lytle! How can you leave us at a time like this? We aren't ready! I don't mean to sound ungrateful. You've been good to us. And what a swan song. I think you finally nailed the form you practically invented; the sprawling, tear-jerkin, blissed-out, pop song dreamscape. Don't forget our countless hours of ceiling-gazing, the steering wheel drum solos, the drunken singalongs. I won't cry if you won't. Birds come and then they go.
Wow. I really like this album. Way better than Fever to Tell. I was ready to be thoroughly unimpressed. Huh. Sophomore slump be damned. And look at this chick. Who else can do this? Nobody.*
Every 3-5 years I break out my No Means No cds, expecting to bask in teenage nostalgia. But to my surprise, the songs sound different, new. This is the mark of a truly visionary band; their music grows with you. The layers of complexity were always there, waiting for you to catch up. This is starting to sound a little lofty. Basically what I'm saying is that No Means No were my favourite band as a teenager and I still love them.
I'm pretty down with Television these days. Early art-punk-rockers from New York, they recorded two great albums in the 70's and promptly broke up. You could probably bury this song, from their debut, Marquee Moon ('77), in a Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! or Wolf Parade cd and no one would bat an eyelash.
Hard to believe that the cutest couple in indie-rock have released four full length albums already, not to mention several solid ep's. The work ethic is killing me. Mates of State are a married duo from the Bay Area (they now live in Connecticut or something?) who play pared down prog/emo/indie prettiness. They're easy to fall in love with. She plays an organ and he plays drums and they both sing like the mics don't work. Plus they have babies and tour like dogs at the same time. This is the first single from their new album, Bring It Back.
Hot Chip are from London and they're wierd. Their stuff is all over the place. From glitchy techno-soul to new-wave disco. This is a single from their upcoming album, The Warning.
