My Hustle 2

Jack Bauer has just dived through their window


A few new things I discovered this weekend:

• Matt Tinari is really intense when it comes to "Scattergories." But the intensity in no way rivals his brilliance at the game. He also knows all about pussy jizz.


• Georges Duboeuf's Merlot is awesome and it only costs ten bucks for the big bottle.


• Everybody should snag the edit of Panda Bear's "Bros" if they have a sec. The album version clocks in at over 12 minutes, with the final seven minutes doing that sprawling jam thing, so its nice to have the catchy part of the song at your disposal.


• While we're on the subject of music, because it had linked T.P.O. (thanks btw), I found a crit/mp3 blog with really good taste in dance music. I fully co-sign the Killer Mike critique.


• The bar between 2nd and 3rd on Market, the one that is only identified by the stained-glass window above the door which reads "Tavern", has as much of that Nietzschean "relaxed/content man in a Dingey during a hurricane" appeal as does The Khyber, maybe more. We went there on Saturday night. While having a cig, we were able to make fun of all the people waiting to get into Red Sky. Later that evening, a dj came in and played Konk's still amazing "Baby Dee."


• London Broiled lunchmeat and Emeril's "Smooth Honey Mustard."

Ma'am: Shush (or, The Motherfucking Car)

First, a word about Roxborough. Roxborough is fucking terrible. It's the most asshole neighborhood I've ever spent a lot of time around, even worse than lacrosse suburbs in Baltimore. Guys from Andorra can turn out all right, I guess, but it seems like the further one wanders from Andorra, the more fat hardass white kids are dressing like Fat Joe and walking around with their eyes 3/4 closed, looking for Oxycontin or their bookie. They were the kids whose dads came to baseball practice in Eagles sweatpants and tried to taunt the coach into a fight from the back of the bleachers, while smoking Black and Milds. They turned into kids whose actual favorite thing to do, no exaggeration, is to punch each other, in a practice known as Roxboxing. They're also the kind of dickheads who break into cars, but most of them are too pussy to do anything more dangerous than selling shitty weed. Roxborough kids have the worst possible taste in movies (Rush Hour 2), music (Tupac and radio rock) in the world.

Oh, and then there are Roxborough girls. I would rather kill myself than marry a girl with a Roxborough accent. They wear Nautica fleece pants, big earrings and big perfume.

T.P.O. performed a study, and determined that it has been 7 years since the last time that anyone who lived in Roxborough uttered a sentence that was not, in some way, stupid.

With that out of the way, here's the best Philadelphia argument I've heard since I was a kid, from the other day, noted on location in Roxborough:

(Big, young, cornfed, douchey looking dude appears with a puss on his face)

Angry Man: "Jim, get out here and move this motherfucking piece of shit fucking car you got sittin right in front of my fucking house!"

(Jim, older man, appears)

Jim: "What you mean, you don't own the spot there, get away from my car."

Angry Man: "Jim, fuck you, you don't move your fucking car I'm gonna, it's gonna, you're lucky there's no sticker on that car because you motherfucking never move your fucking CAR RAH RAH RRRHRHAHRHAHRHARHHH"

Jim: "Asshole, get outta here"

Angry Man: "Jim, you've got a garage and a driveway, you've got two cars, there's twoaya, you never use this motherfuckin car and you always, you got people in this street, you got neighbors, they have... spot, you need spots for when... you gotta start to think about your neighbors RAHAHRHAHHh

Jim: "You're an asshole."

"If you don't move that motherfuckin' car it's gonna get moved, Jim!"

Jim: "Get away from my car."

"Think about your fuckin' NEIGHBORS! RAAAHRARARARARRAHRH"

(Older lady emerges onto her porch, next door)

Lady: "(something I couldn't hear, but which sounded really stupid)!"

Angry Man: "Ma'am! Ma'am! Shush, Ma'am!"

Lady: "(skreeeeeeech)"

Angry Man: "MA'AM! SHUSH!"

(Dogs start barking)

"Who was that hot guy you took home last night?" "Girl, that was T.P.O!"

Haha, Haha! T.P.O. keeps it moving.

Girl Talk
Johnny Brenda's
1/19/07

When we heard that Pitchfork upstart, Girl Talk, aka Greg Gillis, was playing Johnny Brenda's we nearly passed out. As hipster currency goes, this guy is 2006-7's Diplo. It's not so much the music, but the spectacle, the event that is Girl Talk, that consumed us. We heard that this guy had discovered the perfect formula for inciting total hedonism at his shows: gangsta trash-infused Nirvana mash-ups + lots of coke + taking your shit off = every possible kind of sex other than missonary. But that description more than understated what we witnessed at JB's.

Most of the show was improvised, or at least it seemed that way. Thus, Girl Talk as an act can play entirely to the crowd. At JB's he immediately picked up on the Philly "ecstasy now or death" vibe, and threw together a rabble-rousing "House of Jealous Lovers"-"10 Dollar"-"Smells Like Teen Spirit" jawn. Lots of Houston rap verses over sped-up rhythms, which birthed disturbingly awkward quick-paced grinding, which looked exactly like stand-up, clothes-on fucking, later, Gillis closed with a masterpiece blend that was too "Philly" for Philly. He let the mix wind to a close and shouted to the crowd, "Hey Cats, you ready for the one I like to call "The Super Soaker?" Then he took his shirt off. Then everybody took their shirt off. Then Spank Rock's "Bump" began playing. Everybody started fucking, clothes-off. He blended in Lil Kim's "Magic Stick." Jesus Christ. Then it happened. Gillis slammed on Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven Is A Place On Earth" and pussy jizz started spraying everywhere. There was so much of the stuff no one could keep their footing, not even those observing from the balcony, i.e. T.P.O. And that was how the show ended, hundreds of naked hipsters, lying devastated in puddles of female ejaculate.

The show, the event, it has changed T.P.O.'s entire philosophy on things. If "trash" can produce SO MUCH sex, gallons and gallons of it, then why not swim in it?

Please don't watch 24.

People who like 24 also like:

The Eminem Show
Cost-Benefit Analysis
Velvet Revolver
Comparing interest rates
Classic Family Guy
Sister Hazel
Miller Lite
Diddy
Mitshbishi Eclipse
the Yankees
Management Methods
Stupid women
U2
Maxim
Tom Brady and/or the President
Ludacris
Wingtips
2Pac
"Dre's beats"
Subway sandwiches
Shareholders
Hair restoration
Church
Batman Begins
Dunce Capping
Kazooing

Too Much Love (For YouTube)

Ed. Note: This may be the longest blog post ever. But we like it enough to recommend you set aside 20 odd minutes and experience it in its entirety.

Let's start the perfect Friday post off right, by exercising:



Next, some school (Warning!: serious ripping to follow):



Then some after school recreation:



Followed by a night on the town with Lcd Soundsystem:



After that, late night chillin' with some old friends:





Lastly, some introspection:

"Hibachi": Lenny Kravitz - Are You Gonna Go My Way?

I was ripping the exercise bike pretty hard yesterday when I peeked this video on the TV above me. It totally pushed me to burn an extra 10.

Maybe you, like I did before yesterday, have forgetten how awesome this video is? Allow me to refresh. First, its setting is either an enormous three-tiered hole in the ground, into which both psychedelic and disco light are poured, or its the innards of a gigantic, again three-tiered, disco ball, or it's the inside of an alien's butt, or it's a combination of the three. Cut it any way you like, it's J. There are hott rock & roll chicks dancing. Its run time is 3:33. EVERYBODY has long hair. Kravitz sports a sleeveless, red, velvet, bell-bottom jump suit!? There's 360 degree paning during the solo. There's a blurred-out tit shot, and the bass player is wearing a cape.

Jesus, fuck, ladies, I would totally get into "Brad Pitt" shape if I had one of those video iPods and could run this video on repeat. Can't afford one right now, but if you're a lady, you can leave a comment to set up a donation.

And You Thought Hurricane Katrina Ruined New Orleans, It Just Razed Philadelphia

Let's get right to it. Clearly the Saints and the Eagles are the best two teams in the NFC. Clearly their game determined our conference's entrant into the Super Bowl. Clearly either of them could play with Baltimore or Indianapolis. Maybe the Chargers are that much better than everyone else this year, but at least the Saints will get that shot, while we, a city that needed the celebration even more than New Orleans, are left to suffer another Rocky story, while we are left the guy who threw it all on the line, the guy who should have won, but now will simply be another loser. With Donovan Fucking McNabb coming back next year, there'll be no sequel, and that is the worst part of this loss. The fact that now Jeff Garcia, a man who needs to be honored as a hero of the city, is now finished. This was it, a singular moment in time, that has now passed us by. And why? Because of that fucking hurricane, because of the fact that poor officiating still occurs in the NFL (not even the false start, but the phantom Dhani Jones holding call, the lack of which would have forced the Saints to punt and kept the score 21-20) and the fact that our nation is entirely too maudlin.

How To Steal A Banana From The Last Drop

Want some?

True Story

Look like "The Oracle" from The Matrix.

Smell like egg farts.

Place two "looseys" in your left hand. One between your index and middle fingers, the other between ring and pinky fingers.

Pace around the coffee shop uneasily.

Approach the counter, say absolutely nothing, take two steps left to where the bananas are located. Stare at them. Leave.

Return. Ask for a cup of water. Be told, "there's a pitcher of ice water on the server in the middle of the floor. Help yourself." Leave water-less.

Return. Ask for a cup of water. The counterperson gives you one. Take two steps to the left. Stare at the bananas. Leave.

Return. Approach counter. Say absolutely nothing. Do a few laps. Re-approach counter. Say nothing. Take two steps to the left. Stare at the bananas. Leave.

Return. By now you'll have pissed off / scared the counterperson sufficiently that he / she'll want to get rid of you. Approach counter. Be told to leave. Leave.

Return, smelling like egg farts and the ocean. Approach the counter. Take two steps to the left. Stare at bananas. Leave before being told to.

Return. Approach the counter. Be told to leave for good or face the cops. Stand still for a couple seconds as considering. Lunge for bananas. Snag one and make a break for it. Run two blocks.

Return, causing everyone there to think that you are harmless, just completely off your rocker. Be forced out of the shop. Enjoy banana.

Call Me Apocalypto

The following scenario:

Jeff Garcia scrambles on 4th and 6, chased by two defensive linemen. He turns the corner, angles toward the sideline. Just past the first down marker, Garcia is tackled by two players directly into Andy Reid, wiping out the ol' Coach and causing him to drop his famous laminated chart of shitty plays. Garcia gets up and dusts himself off, unharmed. Meanwhile, Donovan McNabb, while moonwalking on the sidelines to impress Jevon Kearse, slips on the slick chart and destroys both knees forever. Reid shrieks "MY BOY, MY SWEET BOY!" and dies of a broken heart. Marty Mornhinweg is promoted to head coach, the Eagles draft a QB to develop behind Garcia, and we all live happily ever after.

Bonus Coverage: (Actual, non-satirical) quote from Wilma McNabb, on the subject of Jeff Garcia's popularity in Philadelphia, thanks to Deadspin.

It's kind of bitter sweet for me as my son, the quarterback sits out on injured reserved watching the game during his rehab. I polled my family too and they feel the same. We want our team to win and even go to the Superbowl and win it in Miami especially if they continue to play as they have. But oh oh, if they win the Superbowl without my son, what would be the real outcome with the fans? Will they crucify him? Maybe ... Bitter sweet.

Why I Like The Mummers

Gigantic, dancing cacti

My full name is James Stanley ("Stosh") Smosinski. I am 31 years old. I have no woman, no kids, no car. I live in the Bustleton Gardens area of Northeast Philadelphia with my parents (who are now getting pretty fucking old), Mary and Fritz Smosinski. 364 days out of the year I come home from the Bud Plant, cause the overtime is too good to turn down, and I gotta catch the same shit from my folks. "Why did I waste all that money sending ya to dem parochials? Didn't ya learn anyting when ya went to Cardinal Dougherty? Everybody always said how smart ya was, how much potential ya had, how we should be real proud. Now look at ya. Ya turnin out just like ya father." You believe I catch this shit from my own mother. Fuck Me.

But the first day of every year, for one day, I become a hero. See, there was some things that I learned at Dougherty. I learned how to play alto sax real good. My music teacher said she'd never seen that kinda talent. She said I was going to be the next Kenny G. I found out that guy played soprano sax, though, and my boy Charlie down the other end of the block told me he was half a fag. So I almost quit. But I did love to play. It was the one thing that kept me from throwin in the towel all these years. And since everyone tells me I'm so good at it, and since there's some big shortage of musicians in our city, and since it was the one thing that I could do once a year to get my fuckin folks off my back, I decided a couple of years back to join the Fralinger String Band.

See in Philly, the annual New Year's Day Mummers Parade is sacred. It's the one thing that the city still has that is about family. It's the one thing, that as the city is becoming all modernized and yuppied to high, holy hell, that the hardworking neighborhood folks can still enjoy, still take their families to without worrying about getting shot. Wonder why crime is going up so much in the city? I'll tell ya why. Just look at downtown, all these condos and foreign foods and shit, no more neighborhoods. This isn't New York. This is a town of blood and sweat and loyalty and devotion and gettin up for work when you gotta. But hey that's just the opinion of one Northeast Philly schmuck.

So yeah, my cousin Teddy, was in real tight with one of the dancers of Fralinger. He said that he could get me into the troop no prob. So I said "Sure." Man, I have to tell ya, there's no feeling like the one ya get marching down Market St., blowing ya brains out on that horn. You're the center of attention. And it's like everyone needs ya. You're putting big smiles on all their faces, and it's like for just one second, all the past gets erased and you think that you can start new. That's the power of the Mummers. It also helps being in a band that's one of the perennial contenders, not like Polish American or 2 St., cause nobody cares about those guys.

I remember the time when we won two years ago. I came home and Ma had cooked my favorite dinner, Chicken Parm with spaghetti and meatballs. I remember walking through the front door and being hugged real tight by dem both, being told how proud they were of me. I remember eating till I was real stuffed and throwing back a few brews with the old man that night. I remember taking the best two hour nap of my life, before pulling a shift and a half the next day.

Man, I can't wait to get out there this year. God decided that we needed some rain, so things got pushed back a week. Everyone round here was real upset. Things just won't be the same with the parade not on New Years. But we got a plan to cheer everyone up. We're going to play "When The Saints Go Marching In."

Best of 2006, Blogged Live From Canada's Nutsack

TPO is about more than space disco and coke rap. Here is some more year-end best of.

Ten favorite tracks this year:

1. Joanna Newsom - Emily
2. Great Lake Swimmers - Song for the Angels
3. Grizzly Bear - Knife
4. Band of Horses - The Funeral
5. Evangelicals - My Headache
6. Sunset Rubdown - A Day In the Graveyard II
7. Destroyer - Rubies
8. The Octopus Project and Black Moth Super Rainbow - (Var.)
9. Junior Boys - In The Morning
10. Growing - Cumulusless

Five best Canadian rock records:

Destroyer - Destroyer's Rubies
Sunset Rubdown - Shut Up I Am Dreaming
Swan Lake - Beast Moans
The Thermals - The Body, The Blood, The Machine
Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings the Flood

Five best Gypsy Folk/Rock records:

A Hawk and a Hacksaw - The Way the Wind Blows
Beirut - Gulag Orkestar
DeVotchKa - Curse Your Little Heart
Man Man - Six Demon Bag
Espers - Espers II (more minstrel than gypsy, really)

Five big fuckups:

88.5 WXPN's format was changed to "acoustic dork shit only."
My Morning Jacket played the unacceptable douchebag venue The Electric Factory.
The Decemberists fussed after they got buried by Chris Ott.
"Top Back (Remix)", that's some monumentally bad rap.
Comets On Fire were self-consciously metal as fuck, and it sucked.

Honorable Mention:
Brightback Morning Light, Prins Thomas, Psychic Ills, Calexico, The Knife, Frog Eyes, Islands, Tropicalia: A Brazilian Revolution in Sound, Yo La Tengo, M. Ward, Liars, Akon's "I Wanna Fuck You"

Best Youtube videos:
Let's Paint TV

The Worst Christmas Ever

James Brown Dies On Christmas Day 2006

James Brown died today. James Brown died today? Impossible. The father of the UNSTOPPABLE GROOVE? Died? This man...



... died?

As I write this, exactly thirteen hours have passed since I heard the news on Temple's 90.1 while opening presents with my family this morning. I am now listening to one of those Urban reissue LPs that includes "Give It Up or Turnit A Loose", an alternate take of that song, "Get On The Good Foot", and "Make It Funky." All at once, I recall all the many happy memories that I have had listening to and enjoying James Brown's music. I remember listening to "Sex Machine" with Crazy Carl in the original Publications Office and breaking out into a series of awkward thrusting gyrations that would later come to be known as "The Mrs. Day Dance." I remember bringing a copy of In the Jungle Groove to some hip kids' dorm room in college and getting immediate respect. I remember getting drunk that night and dancing on one of their beds to "Funky Drummer." There was the time when Chris, Nick and I freaked out to "Get On The Good Foot" at one of Nick's Lampoon parties. I remember staying up until three one morning listening to the entirety of The Payback. I couldn't get over the record's peculiar beauty. It was so fucking real.

This hurts too much. James had a way of just making you feel better about yourself, a way of putting a little smirk on you face. Somehow, I felt safer knowing that he was still around. Knowing that for all the terribly egregious Bono performances, James Brown was still grooving. But now the groove has died, and Soulwax have become the deepest assholes in the world.

A Very Thankful Christmas

T.P.O. is thankful for Dan Bejar.


The Publications Office surveyed celebrities nationwide, asking them what they were most thankful for this Christmas. Here are some of our favorite responses.


Young Jeezy:

I am thankful for the game. Shit's been good to me. The game is as real as it gets. The beauty of the game, it's like, you move your shit and then you got stacks, and your stacks turn into Phantoms, and then it's like you don't give a fuck no more and you can just be ya self. Like me, I like to wear white shoes and a gold watch and not give a fuck what any other man think, and that's just me, you know? The game is life and it got me where I am now, on top, and it's like, who got shit to say to me now? It's so fucking real, it's like I'm so big and tall it's like I roll on STILTS. Yeaaaah.


Stephen Colbert:

I am thankful for my writers and their relentless energy. Just the other day, I was in a big rut. I felt run down, out of ideas, at the end of my rope. I was on my way over to the writers' conference room to tell them not to bother with tonight's show. But when I opened the door, I saw thirty jokes waiting for me on their whiteboard. Everything was going to be just fine. And I ended up using all thirty, too... I was so inspired by their energy, and respectful of their devotion to comedy, that I couldn't bring myself to say that one was funnier than any other.


Isaiah Thomas:

I am thankful for the fact that we young black men are still fighting for the right to live a street lifestyle all over America. It's our world too. This ain't no nice world. I ain't gonna let a man come into my world and tell me I can't take my life, everything I've learned in my life, and that ain't something he want to hear. It's like, I gotta get it the way I know it and you don't understand, well, something just might happen to you. And the way I see it, you earn your respect, you don't just go out and smile in a man face because the world try and say you need to be like a certain way.


Amanda Blank:

I am thankful for hard cocks beating up my pussy. Everywhere I go they want to give me the cock. All over Europe, even, they were telling me they want to lift up my skirt and fuck me right there on the speakers. They hear that bass and they know it's time to fuck. It's been a good year, I've been fucking pretty much nonstop. All over the globe, they wait in line to taste my pussy.


Conor Oberst:

I am thankful that I got to spend this year kind of out of the limelight. Taking some time off from writing and performing has just helped me put everything in perspective. It's hard when you let your thoughts bleed out of you onto the page and then the wind just snatches up that page and it swoops through the city streets, and the people tighten their scarves against the cold breeze. But I just like to sit by the fire with my girlfriend, uhh, girlfriend of the moment, heh, and sometimes I'll just be staring at the ceiling wondering if each crack in the ceiling of this crazy-ass New York apartment (God, I love New York) if each crack is like a memory, and it grows deeper as you age. I think we all keep our memories in our hearts, and each heart is like a picture that we all look at every day.


Tom Brady:

I am thankful for George Bush, the Republican party, and their efforts over the past year. It's always been fashionable to resent those who know best, those who look out for your safety. What's really hard is to stick to the principles of success every day, to wake up in the morning and do your best. There is a lot of negativity out there about leadership and success. But I'll tell you this. Where would I be if I screamed at my offensive line every time they let up a sack? Where would I be if I ignored my dad when he told me to hurry up or I'd be late for practice? A real man responds to strong leadership. We should all be thankful for those who work hard and stick to their guns.


Prins Thomas:

I am thankful for the groove.

Morality 101

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Take My Piss

In his write-up of Hot Chip's The Warning (#2) for Stylus' "Top 50 Albums of 2006" Evan McGarvey penned:

If The Warning’s intelligent, game phraseology (“What can you find in a drain?”) won’t win you over, peep the destructive, cleansing swagger: “I’m a mechanical music man, and I’m starting a fire. / Hot Chip will break your legs / Snap off your head / Hot Chip will put you down / Under the ground.”

As someone who has read Neil Strauss' The Game, I know that "What can you find in a drain?" is not good Game. You don't want to neg your competition, an act that implies a low estimation of self, instead you want to neg the girl. So Evan, if Hot Chip were in fact using "intelligent game phraseology" they would have said something along the lines of "What can I find in you, drain?" And if you want music with a "destructive, cleansing swagger", you should listen to Wolf Eyes not Hot Chip.

Honestly, I don't get it. Is it because Hot Chip are English? Cute? Play synthesizers? Pitchfork ranks "Over and Over" #16 in its Top 100 Tracks of 2006 and "Boy From School" #7 and The Warning at #26 on its Top 50 albums list. Stylus has "Over and Over" #23, "Boy From School" #11, with the album again at #2. First, I consider "Over and Over" a 2005 jawn, maybe even 2004 depending on how far ahead on the ssX curve you were when the song leaked. "Boy From School" is a good song, but it's not 5 stars. It's something every "indie" kid can identify with, the "We tried but we don't belong" line. However, Alexis myopically repeats the line way too often and by the end of the song it loses its initial, devastating punch.

Such diminishing returns resound on all of The Warning's tracks. They grab the listener's attention early, but by the halfway point they get stale. They each possess sounds and structures that remind me of a lullaby. So they are soporific, which can be useful, it just seems to me not quite as useful as something that impacts your life, makes you more awake, makes you see things more clearly. I truly don't understand how a narcotic can be a "top" record.

Leader of the Pack

Not what it looks like

A phenomenon took this country's digital cable audience (or maybe just my roommates and people that came by our house on Friday nights) by storm, the National Geographic Channel's The Dog Whisperer with Cesar Millan. Cesar is simultaneously assertive, comical, authoritative, rigid, naive, and absurd. He also has several homosexual tendencies. He likes to imitate the behavior of some of the dogs, which for some reason usually involves him arching his back and getting on his knees and shaking his shoulders and making noises such as "Adi, didi, didi."

Above all, though, Cesar is a dog's best friend. He understands dogs as dogs, not as toys for human amusement or emotional crutches, but as complex creatures with whom one must choose to enter into a relationship. He fulfills the primordial needs of dogs under his care. He treats them as instinct-driven animals, not as human beings, and it is easy to see the results on the dogs' own faces. They repay Cesar for his leadership with good behavior, loyalty, and affection. Few things could make life more enjoyable than a dog that is willing to requite its owner's love. Thus, unanimously, we declare Cesar Millan, Dog Whisperer, our "Man of the Year" for 2006.

Yup, Yeah Me Too

Thanks Google Image

Ed. Note: We may or may not do more of this year-end stuff. You know how this time of the year is.
--JS

As I listen to way too much music, I think I owe a few year-end lists to myself. The sole criterion for the lists was how much of my time each particular item occupied. I multiplied according to my iTunes and iPod counters. I think the results are pretty interesting.

Genre of the Year: Disco

Albums:
1. Clipse - Hell Hath No Fury
2. Booka Shade - Movements
3. Sonic Youth - Rather Ripped
4. The Knife - Silent Shout
5. Man Man - Six Demon Bag
6. Junior Boys - So This Is Goodbye
7. Spektrum - Fun at the Gymkhana Club
8. Sunset Rubdown - Shut Up I'm Dreaming
9. VA - [DCR Presents] Death Before Distemper
10. The Whitest Boy Alive - Dreams

Tracks:
1. Escort - Starlight
2. LCD SS - 45:33
3. Delia & Gavin - Relevee (DFA Rmx)
4. The Clipse (Feat. Pharell) - Mr. Me Too
5. Junior Boys - In The Morning
6. Padded Cell - Unknown Zone
7. Dub Kult - Chick
8. The Knife - We Share Our Mother's Health (Radio Edit)
9. Prins Thomas - Fehrara
10. Tahiti 80 - Big Day (Idjut Boys Main Remix)
11. Rihanna - SOS
12. Kaito - Color of Feels (Album Mix)
13. Rick Ross Vs. Simian Mobile Disco - Hustlin' Hustler (Cadenece Weapon Hi-Speed Edit)
14. Kaos - Cerebral Tremolo (Brennan Green Edit)
15. The Orichalc Phase - Respond in Silence
16. Dondolo - Dragon (Shit Robot's Fire Breathing Remix)
17. Amerie - Take Control
18. Sonic Youth - What A Waste
19. Shit Robot - Wrong Galaxy
20. Lindstrom - Another Station (Todd Terje Rmx)
21. Delia & Gavin - Relevee (Carl Craig Rmx)
22. Superpitcher - Enzian
23. Sascha Funke - In Between Gates
24. Robbie Williams - Lovelight (Soulwax Ravelight Dub)
25. The Juan Maclean - Love Is in the Air (Mock & Toof Rmx)

New Artists:
1. Sunset Rubdown
2. Escort
3. Shit Robot
4. Brennan Green
5. Cadence Weapon

Indie Folk? We Got 'Em

I still need your digital camera

Archer Prewitt, Angela Desveaux, Honey Church, Ponie Heart
The Khyber
12/12

First, a big thank you to the hardworking folks over at Philebrity for plugging this one. I would not have found out otherwise. Second, I should let you know that I've decided to give up on big shows. If there's going to be more than 500 people, I don't want anything to do with it. Chances are the show's all ages, and half the crowd will be full of sixteen year olds that are already becoming way too absorbed in alt-scenesterism and drugs and are running around the venue like chickens with their heads cut off. Case in point, the Broken Social Scene show a while back at the Electric Factory was down right egregious. There was a big performance going on, and from what I observed, CJR and I were the only people trying to watch it. So when I saw that Archer Prewitt, this cat whose latest record, Wilderness, I've liked a lot for the last couple of years (you can read this to find out exactly why; I agree with it entirely) was playing The Khyber on a Tuesday night, I said to myself, actually uttered it out loud, "perfect." And I was not disappointed. At no point in the night did the crowd exceed 30.

Unfortunately, as I found out about Tuesday night so very last second (7:30) I missed opener Ponie Heart. But judging from the quality of the other opening acts, Honey Church and Angela Desveaux, I would have to think that it was at the least average indie folk / country, which depending on the mood your in, if you happen to be in the same self-pitying one that I was in Tuesday night, can be pretty endearing stuff. Reason why is it follows the K.I.S.S. (keep it simple, stupid) formula to the T. The music was definitely without pretense, the majority of it written in 3/4 time, and performed by people who were obviously not 21 year old hipsters. Also remember they were playing for mere handfuls of people. It was like they were playing for me. Honey Church are a local getup that are currently a diamond in the rough. A little more diversity in the song structures, like some key changes, and more poetic lyrics and they'll have something. It was pretty much the same deal with Ms. Desveaux-- she just needs to come up with some sort of schtick to differentiate herself from the pack and she'll be fine. On the plus side, she and her band had some positive things to say about cheesesteaks. And without doubt all of these bands are much better live than John Vanderslice. Trust me.

Prewitt and band were great. Clearly, these guys are grizzled veterans of the indie scene. Keyboardist / laptopper / trumpeter, I think his name was Mike, was kind enough to reveal that he was 44. His long gray hair, goatee, and slightly more than hipster thin frame was far more refreshing, and far more provocative on stage than the anorexic-Asian-indie-hipper than thou-girl-keyboardist cliche. Not that I'm hating, anorexic Asians (as a matter of fact I'm currently accepting applications for an anorexic Asian hipster girlfriend in the comments section), just saying different is refreshing. But yeah, these guys were talented. As some of Wilderness' material borders on the saccharine, the band did a masterful job erasing any such traces live, even on songs such as "No More", "Without You" and "Wilderness." All of the songs played were infused with a psychedelic, hard rock edge, giving them far more pop and zest than on the record. It was very encouraging to hear a band which is at heart into "chill" music move out of its comfort zone and pump some enthusiasm into its live act.

This night was the best surprise I've had all year. I did not feel like it was a guilty pleasure either-- there were no thoughts of "but it sucks that these people will not get wealthy from doing this." Prewitt & Co. knew well what the turnout was going to be, but put forth great effort anyway. My guess, they did it because they needed to do it for themselves and for their art. And if that isn't an uplifting thought at a time when "indie" is becoming heavily commercialized, then I don't know what is.

Crate Digging 2006: Daft Punk's Homework

Just a couple of faces in the crowd

So much music came out this year, too much if you ask me. (check those 857 Papoose freestyles) Alot of it was really good too. It seemed like there was zero opportunity for crate digging this year. Well here's a dig for most kids 11 or younger in 1996. It's called Daft Punk's Homework. If you like electronic/house music, and haven't heard this, all of it, be prepared to hear something that's far better than 2006's batch of indifferent house. It's been 10 years. Reflection on this record and renewed admiration for it are more than fitting. So I made a card to express my feelings for a true benchmark in the history of electronic music.

My 10th Anniversary eCard to Homework



Dear Homework,

You've given me so much over the last ten years. You've given me "Around the World", still the world's quintessential party starter. Never have three words had such an impact on how I interact with music. Never have three words salvaged so many of my desperate nights. I think "Revolution 909" is the fifth best song ever. "Teachers" taught me everything I need to know about rock music, "Da Funk" everything that I need to know about robots. Where would dance music in general be without you? Would the vocoder's potential be realized? Would lengthy repetition be acceptable? Would there be "uncompromising" 4/4? Would people's shit ever really get lost? And you have more to give. Eventually the public will recognize "Oh Yeah" as the world's next great breakbeat track. Someday DJs around the world will hear the floor potential in "High Fidelity", "Burnin" and "Indo Silver Club".

I just wanted to let you know how much I still appreciate you. ✓+

Happy 10th Anniversary
JS

Yo Philly!

Warning: More low blows to follow

After an entire weekend of my TV time being saturated with Rocky Balboa commercials, I have concluded, Philadelphians, that we need to boycott this shit. First, the things that the movies stand for, brutal, gladiatorial violence, unrealistic optimism, machismo, stupidity, ridiculing the brain damaged, are not positive activities. These stigmata have become what our fair city is most recognized for. Second, Stallone while ostensibly harmless, is really quite the asshole. Third, do you think that it's going to end with this movie? I foresee no fewer than six additional Rocky movies.

Merry Xmas, Delaney:

Rocky VII: Rocky fights Chuck "The Iceman" Liddell. Iceman: ... Rocky: Hey, how you doin, Iceman? Iceman: ...

Rocky VIII: Rocky fights the Super Shredder. Super Shedder: Super Shedder uuuggghhh! Rocky: Super Shredder uuuggghhh!

Rocky IX: Rocky fights Satan. Rocky: Hey yo Paulie, you can take the man out of the fight, but you can't take the man out of the fight...

Rocky X: Rocky fights Breast Cancer. Breast Cancer: I'm undefeated. Rocky: Yeah, well, you know, there's like a first time for everything, you know?

Rocky XI: Rocky fights Mel Gibson. Mel Gibson: The power of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ flows through my right hand and the power of the great Aztec chieftain Huitzitlaloc flows through my left hand. Prepare to die. Rocky: ...

Rocky XII: Rocky fights the Highlander. Highlander: Rocky, there can be only one. Rocky: One what?