powdered sugar

can't get enough of this shit

lol

lol get craig david off my yacht

the pains of being at sxsw

sxsw 2011:

true widow

cloud nothings

the pains of being pure at heart

whomadewho

nite jewel

gold panda

summer camp

wolf gang

royal bangs

darwin deez

memoryhouse

yuck

big k.r.i.t.

baths

puro instinct

weekend

owen pallet

the pains of being pure at heart

moby (dj set)

the strokes

glasser

calvin harris

diamond rings

pipes

miami horror (more like miami horrible, nahmsayin?)

boyz noise

pictureplane

small black

glasser

kurt vile

deerhunter

tuneyards

!!! (aka "slut slut slut")

beach fossils

duff mckagan's loaded

games

maps and atlases

tv on the radio

big boi

!!!

dead milkmen

silent diane

veronica falls

rainbow arabia

shit robot

trentemoller

highs:  cloud nothings (19 year olds killing it like veterans), pains of being pure at heart (belong is my current fucking JAM / made me wanna hold my heart and sway / "we tried each other / let's try another"), memoryhouse (sounded amazing in a church), weekend (favorite rock show of the week), calvin harris (my first srs adrenaline rush of the week courtesy of those murderous staccato synths), pictureplane (how ridiculous is that video?) (dude was wearing doc martens, tights, cut off shorts, a baggy shirt with an all-over print of rats fucking, a "parental advisory" hat circa 1991, fingerless gloves, and one dangly earring AND, not coincidentally, put on my favorite show of the week), beach fossils ("fuck this venue, especially the sound guy"), big boi (fucking big boi!), rainbow arabia (skinny smoky voiced brunette with a record out on kompakt writhing on the floor at my feet begging me to hold her?  in.); shit robot ("best DJ set i've ever seen" lol), trentemoller (henrik vibskov on drums!).  also riding my bike all over austin, more dark haired girls, free beers, smoot & co., fricano's (jonah best sandwich alive!), my dope house for 1, my chauffeur, britt rollin' hard, and on and on.

lows:  whomadewho (trite), nite jewel (boring), wolf gang (caricatures of obnoxious englishmen / wannabe rockstars), owen pallet (come on bro), pipes (stupidest shit i've ever seen) (can't even find him online to provide an example of how shitty), dead milkmen (dusty and retarded).  also my dope house for 1, standing in line for 4 (!) hours for big boi, fucking standing period, breaking nick's truck :(, those brooklyns and the jameson in my pad going untouched, no afterpartying, this wack famers tan that got scorched into my body.

all in all, another amazing year. 

i just realized how badass this video is.

29

"what kind of muscle relaxer is that?"

"did i say 'minimum?'  i did didn't i?  i meant 'maximum.'"

"damn this is beef jerky on my drink. . . pretty good."

"hey man . . . lemme help you get that ring off." 

"it comes off pretty easy."

closing scene pt. 2.

not to overdo it, but what a way to end a set. couldn't find the video from mexico city, but the point remains.

radio dept. @ lunario 2.19.11

this video, this song, this night, captures so much of what makes mexico city perfect. enthusiasm, heartache, buzz, optimism, defiance, beauty, youth. just  listen to them singing along!

it was radio dept.'s first time in mexico. "we've played some dates in the states, but it was nothing like this. amazing." everyone has the same experience. it just swells up inside of you, and there is nothing like it.  magical.

perfecto. gracias gracias gracias.

closing scene.

domestic scene.

wild nothing @ sons 2.5.11

anything love.

you guys are gonna like this one

sweet diversions

killed a double feature last night.  first was quiet city.  most boring shit i've ever seen in my life.  and that's coming from someone who generally enjoys mumblecore (christ i hate writing that word).  there was one (maybe two) good scenes.  the rest was a snoozefest, and i struggled to finish [all 78 minutes of] it.  that said, it did sort of capture the experience of day wandering around brooklyn ruminating about life and shit with your 20-something slacker friends.  the photography was great too.  i'd say it's a decent start, and it inspired me to put dance party USA and cold weather in my queue.  still pretty optional.  to quote smoot:  "is it even possible for a mumblecore movie to be anything but optional?" 

then on to bakery girl of monceau.  this is all i need to say:

"A law student with a roving eye and a large appetite stuffs himself full of sugar cookies and pastries daily in order to garner the attentions of the pretty brunette who works in a quaint Paris bakery. But is he truly interested, or is she just a sweet diversion?"  

you get one guess.  shown in its entirety below.

i'm not the girl you're taking home

fred falke murdering it again.  as good for lonely late night drive home as it is for a lonely late night out on the town.  primo. 

another savage night at the club

i've gotten some shit for sticking by destroyer since discovering them at sxsw in 2004.  even though he hadn't heard them, fig urged me to go see them with him because he thought a band called "destroyer" would definitely be good.  it was admittedly not what we were expecting, but still a good find.  that same strategy didn't work out so well for him when he shelled out $25 for a DFL  cd at bill's in 1998, but i guess he stuck to it.  (i can't actually remember what record it was, but i'm probably being charitable when i suggest that it was DFL.  anyone remember?)

UPDATE:  confirmed by the man himself that it was DFL ("dead fukkin' last...one 30 minute track on the album.").  one day he was playing it in his room and, almost in unison, the rest of us were like "dude, what the fuck is this?"  thereafter, "DFL" was shorthand for any shitty cd of a band you'd never heard.  "what is this shit?  DFL?  srsly."    

anyway, destroyer still owns.  this record is everything they do right.  doms. 

they should arrest you / or whoever dressed you (yuh!)

i've been sittin' on this track for a couple months, but just saw the vodka commercial/video. 

G or not G?

days of being wild (also known as "2010")

superbligged and i planned on a double feature last night:  the burning followed by house.  i've been dying to see both for a while.  it didn't happen, but it's still in the works.  home alone and in the mood for love, i cued up days of being wild.  i first saw it 7 or 8 years ago, and it immediately became my favorite wong kar-wai jam, which is saying a lot.  as with most of wkw's work, the details had faded from my memory but i had never forgotten the tone.  on a second viewing, it hit me even harder.

a pissed off, emotionally distant, and casually reckless 28 year old with mommy issues spends his time luring women in and then breaking their hearts.  in his wake, he leaves a trail of women (and men) that don't fully realize the true romances in their lives because they're caught up on an idea of something that never was.  crushing.

but enough about me...

easily in my top 3 or 5 of all time.  mandatory viewing for all lonelyhearts.  just a taste:  

half-assed guilt

can't you see?

coincidence.

"is that?  no...  **pulls sunglasses down**  ha!  it is!"  michael mayer and superpitcher hanging out at the house next door.  if i were in high school, i would have pulled up next to him in a honda civic and said "are you, like, michael mayer?  do you need a ride?"  (like my friend and i did to tony hawk, who i'm pretty sure never needs a ride).  as it was, i didn't say anything.  looked like he was hanging out for the week with his gf and kid.  i sort of wish i approached him, but didn't really get a chance.  in town for this. 

tulum.

bob

courtesy of hedi.

take it slow / take it easy on me

an absolute club banger courtesy of phil hartnoll's new year's eve mix over at BBC6.  much better than the atrocious dj'ing i had to endure on NYE.  [rumour has it there's video floating around somewhere of me "enduring" said dj'ing via a spin move and evander holyfield-esque air punches.  the spin/punch combo is all the rage in the dance clubs on hendo these days].  phil's mix reminded me of this gem:

i just want what i want.

He wants the one he can't have, the only one who really understands him, but instead of just accepting it, he wants her to feel that hurt, too. "All I want is your pity, and all I want is your bitter tears." Rarely has a singer been so vulnerable, so dejected, and such a dick all at the same time. But then the song keeps going skyward, swelling off that guitar and those sparkling synths, and the pain starts to disappear. You lose yourself in the surge. Really sad or really triumphant? It's both. --Joe Colly. 

lost.

love.

tears like diamonds.

the perfect setting for the perfect music for the perfect feeling for the perfect moment.  there was nowhere else in the world.  and it all led up to this:

the moment when you're living it

"...refusing to intellectualize skin touching skin for the first time or choosing beer over sleep -- the kind of shit that seems so simple when you spell it out, but can be so profound in the moment when you're living it. No grief, all joy... memories are made of this."

the streets were dark with something more than night.

enter the void.

 

the best thing to happen to the dallas art scene in recent memory.  i'm so excited.  take your ass to some movies.  if not, it'll be closed in 2 years. 

as far as never before.

unmasked.  

not optional.

i can only assume that's scotland.  if so, this album cover (favorite ever) reconfirms my burning desire to get there as soon as possible.  when i was in seventh grade i wrote a  post-divorce short story for some 'gifted and talented' bullshit class (i also did a 'book report' on an 8ball & mjg album) about a lonely, unshaven dude stalking the nighttime streets in a big city.  a post-modern philip marlowe, i suppose.  i remember a specific passage in which our anti-hero "jumped out of his black tahoe, combat boots splashing in the rain-soaked gutter.  with the freezing rain stinging his face, he flipped is collar up, turned his back to the wind, and lit a cigarette.  then, like so many nights before and since, he stepped out of the streetlights and into the shadows."  something like that.  i've been told before that i'm still acting like i did when i was 13.  maybe so.

UPDATE:  i actually think that's the hudson.  still.  

scenery

how much to spend a weekend alone here?

wit cha girl up in my ear

how fucking stupid are parades?

what is this?  the 1880's?  and they're all the fucking same.  geezers, marching bands, and some half-decorated cars filled with either geezers or marching bands.  and some two year olds with their moms.  how do people even find out about them?  when's the last time you heard that a parade was going to take place?  seriously.

UPDATE:  i just figured out that yesterday was veterans day.  i was wondering why there were so many geezers in wheelchairs clogging up the sidewalk.  i thought it was just because they didn't have anything better to do.  i guess that explains why they were all dressed up.  i did think it odd that there was a parade on a random thursday.  i sorta feel like a dickhead, but i still think parades are fucking idiotic.  why not just throw them a party or something?  

i ain't a killer but don't push me

i got a text yesterday from a number i didn't recognize:

how is it that other people get to see you but i don't???

huh...good question.  certain that it was intended for someone else, i initially ignored it.  a few minutes later, i considered responding with some invented narrative about how "i know exactly what you did" or "because i'm still haunted by the ghosts of what could've been."  though my inner iago would find some pleasure in that, i decided against it after imagining the emotions it might stir in the person on the other end.  so i let it go.  or thought i did.  

an hour later, i found myself listing all the people in my life that could have sent it. and with each, i tried to answer the question.  i had good answers for some, and no answer for others.  and so i started thinking about the inevitability of moving on, the reality that all paths diverge, and the fact that there isn't always an answer.  there was a time in my life when this realization would have depressed me.  but after this year, i find it enthralling, liberating.  always the play, never the thing; you can be a collector, but you can never possess. and who even wants to?  i mean, actually wants things to be static?  no one, and the ones that fight it are banging their heads against a wall.

so i think i've embraced it, the art of letting go.  at least i'm trying to.  armed with a new idea and a new anthem, i set out into the night.  lookout...i got my gun in my boo' purse and i don't bust back because i shoot first.  

like a G6

they rapin' errbody

rap for white people

my new jam. straight reppin downtown pittsburgh in the video. supposedly the steelers' 2010 theme song.

god's alarm clock

i "fell asleep" sitting upright on my couch at 3:30 on friday night. i left my outfit on because i thought it looked cute and thought there might eventually be someone to appreciate it.  i woke up at 6 with a stiff neck, a dry mouth, and lonely heart.  payback.  i watched the sunrise horizontally while i tried to go back to sleep.  at 7 i gave up, and at 8 the walls of my apartment shook.  "maybe the world is coming to an end? terrorists?" either way, i didn't really care.  but when i realized what it was, i was instantly sorry that i hadn't gone to watch.  i don't think they let people watch from the street, but i would have had a perfect view from the window of my office.  i suppose something about it appeals to both my pre-pubescent obsession with carnage and my post-love fascination with metaphorical violence. 

"dude, this is like a normal night for me"

for $100 a ticket, you'd hope gorillaz put on a pretty good show. i won't go so far as to say it was worth it, but it was pretty good.  superbligged was amped to see "half of the clash" (jones/simonon), and i'll say it was cool to see their "clash-swagger" (his words) on stage.  there were some awesome grooves, the stage production was cool, and de la aboslutely killed it on a few tracks (see above).  

somehow "dude, i'm gonna just head home after the show" turned into "let's just have A beer at monk," which turned into "dude, what shot do you want?  i wanna go order something to talk to these three girls at the bar," which turned into "hey, i know those two girls...i'm gonna bring 'em over here," which turned into "dude, i'm gonna go meet some friends at barcadia," which turned into "why aren't you buying more drinks?" which turned into "who's taking me home?" which turned into choco shakes at mcdonalds ("mcmurder") at 3:30 am, which turned into the worst hangover i've had, well, since last sunday.  big up to superbligged for going out so hard in dallas.  (so hard i forgot i saw gorillaz until the next afternoon).

lez do it again soon.

nostalgia, sentiment, and historiography

"1991 might be remembered as the year of Nevermind, but no band was bigger at the time than GN-effin-R, and no rock star had more power than Axl Rose, a man that made wearing a bandana and spandex biker shorts in public credible by sheer force of personality. Guns N’ Roses’ 1987 debut, Appetite For Destruction, ranked among the best-selling rock albums of all time, and it was the soundtrack for countless coming-of-age moments for teenagers in the late ’80s and early ’90s. Kids everywhere were getting laid, drunk, and beat up for the first time to the sounds of “Welcome To The Jungle” and “Paradise City.” By 1991, Axl was so powerful that he was able to essentially coerce his record company, Geffen, into releasing two maniacally ambitious double-albums on the same day—Sept. 17, 1991—rather than a year or two apart, which is what the label wanted to do because it happened to make a lot more sense. The dual release of the Use Your Illusion albums was an act of hubris so brazen in its arrogance and yet strangely admirable in its artistic stubbornness that nobody had been fucking crazy enough to try anything like it before, or attempt to copy it in the nearly two decades since. . . . We can debate about the greatness and importance of Nevermind—I’d rather we didn’t, but go ahead if you want—but there’s no arguing against the Use Your Illusion saga being a unique and historical event in rock history; in terms of excess, it planted a flag at the end of the world.

Grandiose piano-based balladry, queasily personal prog-punk epics, STD-ridden blues laments, “joke” songs about bitches lying dead in ditches, sleazy folk numbers denouncing anonymous and not-so-anonymous exes, surprisingly trenchant anti-war songs, furious (and libelous) attacks on journalists, guest vocals from the Blind Melon guy—Use Your Illusion left it all in. All Geffen could do was hope that Rose didn’t decide to unload even more stifling paranoia and motor-mouthed psycho-babble into additional songs, further delaying the release of these overstuffed, twin wooly mammoths into the wild."

i still remember when my dad came home from work with the "you could be mine"cassette single the day it was released, because he knew how obsessed i was with T2 and gnr.  it was a sweet, unexpected gesture that's stayed with me all these years.  "civil war" was the b-side.  wish i still had it.

read the rest of the history here.  absolutely required reading for any 28 to 35 year old males.