Columns – Page 19 – Stylus Magazine

December 17, 2009

Label Profile – Lovepump United

By Taylor Burgess

While attending Vassar College in New York, Jake Friedman and Mookie Singerman used to play in the band Glitter Pals. They released their own record under the name Lovepump United, and then started releasing other artists. It became a balancing act between school and Lovepump: Friedman built a loft in his dorm room to hold inventory, they used the school’s copy machines for their records’ inserts, and they subverted the college’s money for shows. They were first noticed internationally for AIDS Wolf’s Lovvers LP, and then for the HEALTH and Crystal Castles split 7”. Despite their growing killer catalogue, they still laugh about how people consider them a real label, like when Stylus contacted them for an interview. We sent them some questions via email, but it took a couple weeks of badgering them to get them back. They’re busy guys, managing the label and a handful of bands each, so we were constantly met with “We’ll get it to you tomorrow!” Our print deadline loomed closer and closer until we gave them the good ol’ “Today-or-never” ultimatum and they coughed up this wonderful, extremely long response. We couldn’t possibly fit it all on a page, but on a webpage, it’s just the right length.

Stylus: Some of Lovepump United’s releases could be seen as troublesome or not easily accessible, like AIDS Wolf or Indian Jewelry. What do you see in your artists that other people might not?

JF: Music’s too boring. Everything’s too boring. We started the label when we were young enough to take risks. At a certain point it’s hard to take risks. There either isn’t enough support or it seems selfish and naive. But when you’re a selfish, naive, weird kid, it makes perfect sense that the strangest, most exciting, new shit would become your entire life. And that’s what happened for us.

MS: Not to sound immodest, but in most if not all of our bands (especially the weirder ones) we see the possibility of them pushing independent and underground music in new directions.

JF: We kinda started the label from the point of view that too many of our favorite bands never got heard by anyone and that all the shit that did get heard sounded like music for moms and not dangerous or edgy.

Stylus: Whenever you do put out a record, what kinds of personal requirements does it have to meet?

JF: We put out so few releases that we have an unspoken understanding of what makes a Lovepump band. Mookie and I are best friends so a new artist on the label will consume our professional lives and our personal lives. We’re spending all our energy and time and love and opinions. So if we had any doubts about the musical or personal integrity of the people we worked with–we wouldn’t be able to work with them and the label would fall apart. If we didn’t love and support everything about an artist like AIDS Wolf or HEALTH or Clipd Beaks, it would be hard to get people on board. Records don’t exactly sell themselves anymore. But we still need to take risks so we find an artist… and we obsess about them.

MS: We have to be 100% behind a band—both of us. We usually end up taking up a lot of the managerial duties for our bands, so before we sign a band, we have to be prepared to spread ourselves even thinner than we are now.

Stylus: Schoolmates often talk and have pipedreams together, but then they get distracted, get girlfriends or boyfriends or whatever, and then delude themselves by always talking about their ‘great’ ideas. What made you two actually start releasing records and keep releasing records?

JF: If we had sat down and said, “Let’s start something that will change our lives in every way (good and bad) for the next 15 years with no escape hatch and unbelievable time, resource and financial burdens,” I’m sure I would have spent a little more time thinking about everything. But we took a risk and this label has been the most exciting thing in my life… and the worst, the most frustrating, hateful, stressful, etc. I can’t leave town without thinking about it. I can’t move apartments without bumming out my housemates. I piss off the local post office and UPS center.

MS: We kept (and keep) going because we’re still putting out records we’re proud of. It’s not a moneymaking thing. That’s for sure.

Stylus: Was it an easy transition from being in a band together to working on a record label together? I don’t imagine they’d be very similar processes.

JF: We had ZERO idea what it meant to start a label. We had nowhere to turn to for questions or guidance or even a model; every record label bio reads like “By the time we released The Jesus Lizard’s 3rd album we moved to a larger office.” So from the beginning we assumed everything we were doing must have been wrong and our “label” status always a step below legitimate. It’s fair to say, even now, Mookie and I are surprised by how much everyone is fooled into thinking that we’re a real label and things are working… This interview for example! We’re broke. Shit sucks! But we love it… We’re (almost) a record label!

MS: I mean, first and foremost Jake and I were friends. I think a more appropriate question would be: “Was it easy to go from being friends to running a business?” Yes, and no. Whenever we hang out talk alwayyyys turns to the business side of things and that can sometimes be unfortunate any friends/girlfriends that are hanging out with us.

Stylus: Your catalogue’s focus has shifted from noise-rock like aforementioned bands AIDS Wolf, Glitter Pals, and Indian Jewelry to electronic-based rock like HEALTH, Pictureplane and Deradoorian. Has that change been a conscious one?

JF: I listen to Mayyors, I listen to Emeralds, I listen to Eat Skull, I like Julianna Barwick, Phoenix, Converge… My tastes are always pretty broad but finding bands for Lovepump is a different kind of process. I think there are artists and bands we work with really well simply because no one else would be able to work with them the way we do. For example, next year we’ll be doing new records with both Child Abuse and Dynasty Handbag… I don’t know how those two fit together ‘musically’ but their attitude, to me, is totally on the same level so in putting out release the vibe is on a consistent Lovepump-wavelength that I don’t understand except that it makes complete sense and I know it when I see and hear it.

MS: I wouldn’t say that LPU broadening our sound was a conscious thing. We’ve never really pinned ourselves with a genre, and the records we release are a reflection of what we’re listening to at any given time. Both of us are constantly seeking out new and different sounding stuff, so some less noisy music is bound to get released on LPU.

Stylus: What kinds of releases can we expect from LPU in the near future? More electronic-based rock? A return to noise rock?

JF: Probably my favorite band ever is Throbbing Gristle… We’ve met this guy who has an unreleased Throbbing Gristle master tape. It’s an instrumental score for a shitty student-horror-film recorded in the early ’70s. You can see clips online of the film and the music but the complete score exists on this master tape and I want it so bad. I want it to come out on Lovepump. I’m working on that. But in 2010 we’ve got new release from Small Black, Washed Out, Clipd Beaks, Child Abuse, Dynasty Handbag, HEALTH and maybe more!

Stylus: Although you’re based in New York City, you don’t release many records by bands from there. How would you define your connection to the city?

MS: I grew up here and I find that born-and-raised in New York types like myself are a very rare breed here. It seems everyone is a transplant; so to define ourselves by a place that’s constantly changing seems kind of silly. It’s just never really interested us really…

Stylus: Although LPU’s output is great, it’s pretty infrequent. When do you decide to (and when do you decide not to) approach an artist for a release?

JF: If we could put out four records a month we would. We don’t have the money or time. But I think that makes for better release. We only have so many variables to work with–we can only put out so many records per year and work with so many bands. It sucks. I get tons of shitty demos. But sometimes you get something that rules. 15 piece teenage-rock band from the UK or a band punk band from Chicago who can’t stay together long enough to play one show… one day.

Stylus: How old are you guys?

JF: In my 20s.

MS: Apparently Jake is very sensitive about his age, but I have no shame in getting specific and saying I’m 52. [Really, Mookie? –Eds.]

Stylus: What were you in college together for?

JF: Who knows. I wrote a thesis about a faux-chess playing automaton and their role in the 18th vs 17th century.

MS: I majored in Film.

Stylus: Did you finish college, or did the record label take priority?

JF: The record label certainly took priority but I still finished college. I built a loft in my dorm room to hold inventory. We used the school copy machines and printers for inserts, found ways to subvert school money to put on shows and festivals. No one really cared at the time.

MS: My parents would have killllllled me if I hadn’t finished college. Had no choice.

Stylus: How would you describe Glitter Pals?

JF: The best years of my life.

MS: Undersold.

Stylus: Why did Glitter Pals break up?

JF: Genghis Tron? Girlfriends? Other bands?

MS: All of the above plus my awful guitar playing.

Stylus: I know Mookie is in Genghis Tron, but what do you do outside of Lovepump, if anything?

JF: I was a kid magician and after college I worked in music promotion, which really wasn’t for me at all. But thanks to my job, I was able to move to NYC. I’ve also worked for a bunch of movie theaters. I manage the label now. I also manage a couple of rock bands both on and off the label.

MS: I edit TV and manage a couple bands.

>>>www.lpurecords.com

December 17, 2009

CKUWho? TwangTrust with Stu Reid

Wednesdays, 6-8 p.m. on CKUW 95.9 FM or online at www.ckuw.ca

Stylus: Can you tell us about the origins of the TwangTrust?
Stu Reid: It was originally my friend Gaylene Dempsey’s show. She applied to do an alt-country show shortly before CKUW first came to the FM airwaves [in 1999], but because she was frequently out of town for work, she thought she should have a permanent co-host as a back-up and she asked me. Initially, I was scared to death of the idea, but I soon grew to love it. Gaylene lost interest a couple years into it and I’ve been a lone wolf ever since. I doubt I’d ever have done it without her, so I’m indebted to her forever.

Stylus: You’re known as “The $3000 Man” because you consistently raise that amount of money during your FunDrive show. What’s the secret to your success?
SR: Bruce content! No one else on CKUW plays Springsteen as much as I do. Coincidence? I think not. Seriously, though, while it’s not a “my music is better than your music” kind of thing, I think the kind of music I play has a deeper personal connection to the people who enjoy it than that of most other genres. Also, I don’t just throw together a bunch of songs that I like. Most everything I play gets played for a specific reason, whether it’s a local gig preview, a set of music with a theme, be it conceptual, historical or a common musician, songwriter or whatever. There’s something to learn on the show if you’re prepared to pay attention, and regular listeners appreciate the work I put into it.

Stylus: What can you tell us about TwangTrust listeners? Who are they? Where are they?
SR: International, good-hearted folks, all. Ever since CKUW started their podcasting feature, TwangTrust has been the most downloaded show. That’s on top of the dozens of folks who listen to my show each week via my own website (www.twangtrust.ca). That number ranges from 30 to 300, depending on whether a particular episode gets mentioned or linked on someone’s blog somewhere. Still, I spent months playing Elliott Brood’s first album, begging people to check them out at their first Winnipeg show and there were three of us that showed up. And I know the other two weren’t there because of me. So that puts things in perspective.

Stylus: Can you talk about the importance of Bruce Springsteen to the show, and to your life in general?
SR: I do have a personal relationship with Bruce Springsteen that I’d like to tell you about. My musical tastes aren’t as myopic as you might think, based on my show, but Bruce has been special from early on in many ways. To paraphrase the website www.thestureidexperiment.com (no, I have no idea what that’s about) [Ed note: He’s serious—our Stu Reid is in no way connected with that site. Weird.], “None of us are Bruce Springsteen. All of us are Bruce Springsteen. You are now Bruce Springsteen.” I learned the history of music from Bruce, through artists he would cover or talk about in interviews—everyone from Duke Ellington to Suicide. I started a fanzine, Bruceness, dedicated to him back in the prehistoric age of 1981 and even met my wife through it. I do often feel weird playing an established classic-rock artist on a campus station, but I have to. It wouldn’t be an honest show otherwise. The first time I heard Bruce was on the original CJUM back in the late ’70s. I have been in Bruce Springsteen’s dressing room before, and Bruce once stood on the actual boardwalk in Asbury Park and said “Yeah, I met that dude last night,” talking to a friend about me. Plus, I once insulted him to his face. His wife Patti was there and she peed herself laughing.

Stylus: What is the StuDome?
SR: My living room. My wife and I throw house concerts whenever the opportunity presents itself. We’ve had Mike Plume, Jim Bryson and Leeroy Stagger through twice each, as well as Pat DiNizio from the Smithereens. The coolest show ever was C.R. Avery and his string quartet. Three violins, a cello, a conductor who played guitar and snare drum and C.R. doing his thing. A friend who came without ever having heard of him, said it was among the ten best shows of his life. And this was a guy who’s seen a LOT of shows. Mike Plume christened it the StuDome. It was originally the Stu & Kathy Reid Theatre for the Performing Arts. Many StuDome patrons are just folks who listen to my show, who I don’t really know that well. And I should add there are many listeners who have become people I DO know very well. I’m very picky about who I book at the Dome, but as dream-come-truey as it is to have my fave bands playing in my living room, sometimes there’s something too polite about the whole thing. There’s only room for so much politeness in rock ‘n’ roll. I may soon require people to break things when they come to a StuDome show.

Stylus: Do you ever see a day when you’ll hand the reins of TwangTrust over to someone else, permanently? (Your daughter, Britt, perhaps?)
SR: Yes, I’m old and will be dead soon, it’s true. That was certainly the motivating factor in raising a child. Five-year-old Britt is coming along great, playing music for the whole family on Mud Puddle Radio every third Saturday at 9 a.m. (I occasionally tech for her). However, we may soon need to consider a second child as a backup. This past May, just before going in to see her third Springsteen show in St. Paul, we asked her if she was still a big Bruce fan. Britt said, “Uh… I’m actually more of a Tchaikovsky fan.” Damn kids and their classical music…

>>>www.twangtrust.ca

December 17, 2009

Rob Vilar’s Story Time – A Place to Bury Strangers

A PLACE TO BURY STRANGERS - Exploding Head (Mute Records)

By Rob Vilar

“The Gravitron is one of the best thrill rides on the midway. With the use of centrifugal force, the super spinning motion lifts riders off the floor for a feeling of weightlessness.” –www.midwestmidways.com

***
A carnal love story set in a carnival, present day.

With my water pistol at my side, I wait for the siren’s call to commence the contest. I stare at the clown target. With the shrill ring of the siren to initiate the bout, I immediately draw my pistol and discharge fully onto the target with all the poise and rigour I can muster in this defining moment of carnival games. At the end, when it is all done, I stand there, drenched in the autumn night’s air. The carnie leans over his counter and says to me, “Sorry son, looks like you’ve come in last.” I then hear a familiar voice.

“Nice try sport. Maybe you should give it another go?”

I turn around and there she is—black jacket, black pants, white shoes, and dark shades, smacking her bubble gum. Baby’s in black.

“Sorry I didn’t win you a fucking bear,” I reply, pulling myself together.

“No matter. I’m getting a little anxious here. What you say we go for a ride?” She points to the midway.

I take a few steps towards her, seize her hand, and say, “Let’s go.”

We enter the midway grounds and we’re immediately hit by an onslaught of glitter and din of noise.

“Makes you blind,” she whispers.

We slog through the throngs of nervous parents and idling thrill addicts. We make our way past the mirrored halls, horror houses, and roller coasters to… the starship. Silver and loaded with jewels, it’s lit above with a sign that reads “GRAVITRON.” We watch as it decelerates to a gradual stop and opens its door, emancipating a fog of holiness into the night. She then breaks from me, fires her cigarette, and asks, “Blast off?”

“Space is the place, babe,” I answer and we enter the starship.

Once inside the intergalactic spindle, we notice a DJ sitting at the black hole centre of the ship. Heavily bearded with a dark pair of sunglasses, he leans into his microphone.

“Fellow travellers, take your positions… for tonight’s voyage you will be taken to the stars. There will are no refunds. There will be no looking back. The controls are set to the centre of your soul and the new A Place to Bury Strangers joint Exploding Head is set to spin.”

As we take to our individual seats, the opening psychocandy guitar riff of “Deadbeat” initiates the starship’s revolution. With a burning surge of distortion ripping into the cabin, we begin to feel gravity’s pull. As the drone intensifies, a feeling of weightlessness subverts itself under our feet and we begin to rise. We lift higher and higher with each passing spin, until when we hit the top; then the DJ eases the throttle and mixes into the next track, “Lost Feeling.” The interior lights twinkle on, and it’s heaven. The DJ looks at us and knows he’s got us exactly where he wants us. I notice her singing along. “The feeling is gone, the feeling is gone.”

“I take it you’ve heard this before?” I ask.

“I have, and on vinyl, no less. I don’t go for cheap.”

The DJ goes into a new track, “In Your Heart,” and the ship’s lighting goes from soft to strobe, the perfect prescription. I close my eyes and take in the moment. The song revolves and blurs as images of her smear the foreground of my mind. My rib cage tenses up as I feel my heartbeat rubbing up against the bone. I break into a slow sweat, open my eyes, and then turn to face her. She looks at me and says, “It’s a real shame. I want to touch you, but I can’t.”

“I know what you mean,” I respond. “It’s like when I DJ for the kids, sometimes. They want to touch each other, but somehow, they can’t.”

“How does a situation like this get amended?” she asks.

“DJ’s got to drop it,” I reply.

The starship’s DJ drops “Ego Death,” which kills the BPMs, slows the starship down, and loosens our joints up as we peel ourselves out of our seats and tumble to the floor. We lie there, bruised and sweaty, until she rolls me over onto my backside. She crawls on top of me, readjusts her shades, goes into her purse, and pulls out a pair of plastic fangs. With guitars heated for re-entry and fangs in place, she lunges for my shoulder. A spurt of blood shoots to the moon.

We rest there in a state of bliss, the starship’s deckplates covered in an ever-expanding pool of my blood. It’s only then that I realize that rock ’n’ roll isn’t dead—it just goes round and round…

>>> www.myspace.com/aplacetoburystrangers

>>>www.aplacetoburystrangers.com

December 17, 2009

Weird Shit with Kent Davies – The Weirdos of Winterband

By Kent Davies

Like some kind of ZZ Top fundamentalist doppelganger, Winterband is a bearded Apostolic Pentecostal Christian rock band like no other. Pastor Steve Winter and his son Philip, along with convicts Bobo on bass and Hayseed guitar (the band is part of their work release program), bring a potent, catchy dose of Catholic-hating, sexist, pro-life blues rock that will make you bob and shake your head at the same time. While their music might be progressive, their views are nothing but regressive, creating a considerable WTF? reaction in those who dare to witness the anomaly that is Winterband. Their site features dozens of low-budget rock videos spreading Winter’s dogmatic—and sometimes frightening—worldview. Songs include: “Where Babies Come From,” “Jesus Ain’t No Hippie,” “God Squad” and “Shame, Shame, Shame,” which laments the very serious matter of women speaking in church. The band’s latest release, “Won’t Be Long,” is described by Winter as “a track to entertain the masses and help souls escape the snare of the devil and his polytheistic false-Christianity.” The site also includes insane tirades on the “false-Christian scum” who run Tangle.com (formerly GodTube) which cancelled Winterband’s account due to the incendiary song and video “Don’t Diss Mohammed,” where Winter does nothing but diss Mohammed. To add to the bewildering nature of Winterband they have also have an eight minute epic fantasy rock number entitled “Jesus Died and Went to Hell,” which has a chorus that almost revels in the death of Jesus. All the songs are copyrighted and not to be reproduced because, as Pastor Winter says, copyright laws are held by “various governments with huge armies and bombs and stuff so don’t do anything you shouldn’t.” Other parts of the site include pictures with Winterband fans Senator Zell Miller and former Motown drummer Pete Joyner. Somehow I’m thinking that Joyner and the senator should have reconsidered taking those pictures. (www.winterband.com)

November 30, 2009

Pompous Old Fart

MAGNETA LANE
Gambling with God
(Last Gang Records)

Gambling with God is a disc by a Canadian group called Magneta Lane. It’s not very good. The tracks feature that Antichrist of a musical effect called “fuzzy guitar.” The sound is as annoying as a lawn full of grackles or an up-close buzz saw. I don’t know what the songs were about, as the instruments drowned the words out, and the advance album had no insert. I don’t think I was missing much. The group is a trio of women and they come from Toronto. This is their third album. I hope to God there isn’t a fourth.

I haven’t bought the re-released Beatles oeuvre yet, but my 11-year-old granddaughter is into their music, so I contacted my brother in the UK who, in 1968, filmed the Beatles as part of a BBC documentary called Music. He sent me a clip from that movie featuring the recording of “Hey Jude,” with close-ups of Lennon, McCartney, Harrison and Ringo, along with their eminence grise, George Martin. The session ended with the crew being asked to sing along with the final “Da, da, da dadada da,” so if you play that track, one of the voices on it is my brother Ian’s.
+++

Continue reading “Pompous Old Fart”

November 30, 2009

Rob Vilar’s Story Time – Julianna Barwick

By Rob Vilar

florine_cover JULIANNA BARWICK
Florine

After a brief washroom break, I get back to my refueled Dodge and pay the gas attendant for her service.
“Where you going?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Somewhere,” I answer.
“Getting away from something?”
“Maybe something like that,” I reply as I step into my Dodge Challenger and begin to drive off the lot.
“You come back again,” she says.
I return to the highway and re-adjust my rear view mirror. I notice that the procession of cop cars off in the distance has intensified since the last time I checked. I light a cigarette and turn the radio on. My favorite DJ is back on air.
“Well, after a much-needed break to relieve this old vein of mine, let’s get back to the narrative at hand. Vilar, you’ve done well until now but these are desert plains you’re approaching, my friend…and the heat which I’m sure you’ve noticed, has gotten hotter. Well, to make things a bit bearable, I’ll play you something off the recent Julianna Barwick EP, Florine. A small number titled “Cloudbank.” I hope there is a cloud bank on the horizon for you.” The DJ drops it. Upon hearing the song on the radio, my mind starts to drift to another time and place in the past, somewhere in a Motel 6…

***
She comes out of the shower and into our room while using up the last of our allotted towels. I lay on the bed, working on a crossword.
“Who’s this we’re listening to?” she asks.
“Julianna Barwick, a singer out of Brooklyn. Found her on some pay per download site,” I answer.
“You didn’t find her on Pitchfork, as with most things?” she counters.
“No, but eventually they jumped all over her. Which is cool I guess. It’s what you want if you’re making music these days. By the way, I don’t find most of my stuff on Pitchfork.”
“I like her. Her material reminds me of Popol Vuh off the Aguirre soundtrack,” she says as she searches for something to wear.
“Yeah, it does, but even better if you ask me,” I respond, slipping in a look above my crossword paper.
“Are you still going to work tonight?” she asks.
“Yup, you know how it is,” I answer.
“One of these days you got to tell me what you do. You can’t keep up this mystery forever…”

***
Back in my car, I notice I’ve successfully shook off the cops while driving myself deep into the desert’s heart…a place for no man. I stop the vehicle, turn the radio up, and take a sit on its hood. The song “Bode” comes on and I take in my surroundings. I stare out onto the desert plateau and watch the sun murder the skies red as it plunges into the dusk. The sweeping sustained mantra of the song eases the pain of this measured astrological kill. The DJ comes back on.
“I got to hand it to you Vilar, you shook them off good. With my little CB radio here at the station, I can tell you them coppers have no idea where you at. I know you’re hiding somewhere though… but the question now is… how long do you stay out there? We’re pulling for you, just keep a warm blanket close by…”

***
Back at the Motel 6, I watch her spread the blanket back on the bed. “You know there’s people who get paid to do that sort of thing,” I tell her.
“No matter. Just a frequent habit,” she says. “I’m really digging this Julianna Barwick more and more. What’s this song playing now?”
“It’s called ‘Choose.’”
“You know who else she sounds like? She reminds me of Enya.”
“Yeah—like a hipper version of Enya. Some people may find that comparison repulsing, some maybe not. It’s hard to know nowadays.” I finish off the last of the crossword. A short pause lies between us.
“Do you really have to go?” she asks.
“Yeah, I got to go meet someone. I told you,” I answer.
“When are you gonna let me know?”
“I’ll tell you about my job some time.”
“No. That’s not what I mean,” she says, as she slowly draws the curtains down and turns to face me.

***

Back in the desert, night has struck and coldness starts to take hold. The opening piano refrain of “Anjos” plays on the radio while I lay down and gaze at the stars for a moment. The DJ returns and chimes in over the song.
“Hey, Vilar, haven’t heard from you in a while. I hope you’re keeping those scorpions company. Word has it they don’t offer lifetime subscriptions in the place you at, so you best be getting back into the game now. You can beat the police, you can beat the road, and you can even beat the clock…but you can’t beat the desert.”
“Go to hell,” I respond as I roll off the hood of the Dodge, kick the remaining dirt from my boots, and get back in the driver’s seat. I start the engine and peel it forward to the road. With “Anjos” still playing on the radio, I look for the angel in the sky’s constellations to help find my way back. I start to coast into a vision of last night’s encounter…

***
I meet my contact Rodrigo by the river’s end.
“Eh, Roberto! Tudo bem?” Rodrigo addresses me.
“Tudo bem. Que pasa?” We exchange our special handshake.
“Well, the boss has got a special job for you,” Rodrigo says as he hands me an unmarked envelope. “Take a look. Looks like someone saw something they shouldn’t have, which can be messy for us. It’s a shit job but you know how it is, right? You got 24 hours.” I stand there, staring into the photograph for a while. Rodrigo says as he snaps me out of it. “Hey man? You OK? You know her?”
“No, it’ s cool.” I slip the photograph into my pocket. “I got it covered. Can I borrow your Dodge?”

***
The roar of the law enforcement’s helicopter shakes me out of my stupor as I race towards the morning sun. The ranks of the land vehicles have swelled tenfold since my last cigarette pack and I still have a carton to go. The radio is on and my DJ is still with me.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! You go, Big V! You out-race those blue Nazis! You don’t give up and let them catch you! No way, Jose, no way, you go for the prize, man, you go for it! Ha ha ha ha…all right, this is too much fun. I think we got to drop one more for the soul mobile before I go in for a break. So here’s a hymn for you, bro, called ‘Sunlight, Heaven’ by Ms. Barwick. Drive forth and let that camino del sol be your guide. Radio on and godspeed.”
With the song fueling my ride and the police closing in on me, I can see clear as the new day set forth, the path laid ahead. And as sure as I am aware of that incoming road block set up at mile’s end, I am certain now of what words can be said from one to another while under the veil of darkness in a small room near the edge of night. Without hesitation and without doubt. The true speed of will.

November 30, 2009

Weird Shit with Kent Davies – Snacks and Weird Werewolf Shit

By Kent Davies

movie It’s almost Halloween again! Without a doubt, it’s the most wonderful time of the year. Instead of playing that tired K-Mart haunted house soundtrack, why don’t you check out a monster movie music blog that can’t be beat? Dwrayger Dungeon presents: Monster Movie Music and More, a site where hosts Eegah!! and Tabonga! sift through hundreds of old-time sound clips from obscure and classic monster movies. From cold-war inspired giant-monster flicks like THEM! to the biker horror trash like Werewolves on Wheels, the site offers a detailed summary with loads of weird, campy sound clips loaded with hilarious dialogue. While the majority of music featured on the site consists of the suspenseful scores that accompany each film, there are also a few rockin’ numbers from the rockin’ clubs, juke joints and teen beach parties featured in some of the films. The proprietors of Monster Movie Music and More say it’s all in the name of fun and historical education, and “in an effort to keep bad taste alive forever!!!” Help keep bad-taste and weird shit alive and check it out at monstermoviemusic.blogspot.com.

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In other blog-related developments: originating from the Jay-Z line “No room service/ just snacks and shit,” Snacks and Shit (www.snacksandshit.com) is a site dedicated to revealing rap and hip hop’s most stupefied, absurd and ridiculous lyrics. Among the 400 great lines highlighting forced metaphors, dumbfounding misogyny and an unnatural obsession with excrement, it was hard to narrow down some favourites. The lines vary from the devastatingly juvenile (such as Arab guesting in Soulja Boy’s track “Yahhhh,” where he fronts, “So get up out my face/ you doo-doo-head dummy”) to typical, topical Chamillionaire with the line “BRRRRRAT BRRRRAT… Twitter ’dat,” in “Internet Thugs Attack.” Then there is the painfully honest Camp Lo coming clean when he says “scored like 10 on my I.Q. test” on “Black Nostaljack.” And you can’t forget Kanye West, who struggles with basic arithmetic when utters the line, “I live by two words/ ‘Fuck you, pay me.’” Not to be outdone, Common lays down the astonishingly grammatically-challenged track “I Poke Her Face,” which includes the line “man, her was gooder than a music.” Rick Ross overdoses on the plural form with “I fucks pianos” (“Pushing Keys”). Some lines are just mystifying. Young Dro goes, “Know a nigga healthy/ ‘cause my Cutlass look like carrot juice” and Kool Keith drops, “I watch your mailbox like Vietnam guerrilla warfare.” Worse still, some lies are just gross: “Diarrhea on you niggas like Niagara Falls” (Gorilla Zoe). Much like the writers of the blog, I’m a fan of some of these rap artists, but the cultural droppings of Snacks and Shit reminds fans and non-fans alike that despite money, success and serious scary gangster shit, sometimes these guys can be as ridiculous and brainless as the rich white suburban kids that try and emulate them. Now only if a blog could do the same for hipster rockstars.