its a great year to be a hipster

I'm a little late to the party, aren't I? Interpol's new album (self-titled) recently leaked while I was on a 20-hour road trip to Missouri. This marks the fourth 2010 leak I've presented to you, the loving readers (Realism and Congratulations and Simple Science EP being the other three). The album itself is great compared to their 2007 album Our Love to Admire. It wasn't bad, per se, but it was significantly lacking compared to its parent albums. On its own, Interpol 2010 sounds like a mix of Turn on the Bright Lights ambiance and Antic's punk sound. To be honest, it's not as good as the first two, but you can't really top perfection, can you? This marks the last album made before the bassist, Carlos Dengler, left the band (going on to other, shall I say, antics?), so it'll be interesting if Interpol can find a new bassist that's just as good as him. This is recommended listening all the way, but it might not be the best place to start with Interpol if you aren't familiar with them. Oh, and they drop the f-bomb in Try it On. That's always a bonus with the children, right?

Next up for 2010: Jimmy Eat World, Brandon Flowers, and Radiohead. I'm really stoked for the new Jimmy Eat World album. Deal with it, bitch.

Reclamation! Reclamation!

I was reading an article not too long ago about the Real World. At one point the author mentioned that college was one of the most interesting points in his life. He mentioned that he knew a gay born-again Christian that was a Vikings fan and a Fugazi expert. Obviously that was just a minor detail, but it got me thinking "Damn, I should listen to Fugazi again." So, here I am, banging away at my keyboard telling you about these dudes. Today "hardcore" means having anime-esque hair with purple streaks, an ironic love for Hello Kitty, crunkcore, and Ring-Pop candy on at least two fingers. In other words: "scene." Fugazi represent classic hardcore. They have a relatively famous picture in which the lead singer is hanging on a basketball hoop by his legs and screaming into the mic (also, he was shirtless). I guess that's that's the most accurate description of their sound - a bunch of shouting rapscallions having a good time. And shirtless.

Like Merriweather Post Pavillion, except it's good

Most people know that noise is caused from vibrations in the air. At least, that's what the Magic Schoolbus taught me. So, if you want to be a pretentious asswad, just go around telling everyone that music is just organized vibrations. Noise-pop bands seem to be aware of this, as they base their material off of organized chaos. I mean, hell, Merzbow made 248 albums by shitting on a Speak'n'Spell.

All joking aside, noise-pop can be pretty good. Ribbons and Bows proves this by releasing the White Light 7", a two-track record sampling what's to come by Rs&Bs. The titular track starts out with a crunchy beat, and an extremely lo-fi guitar lick separates the transition from beat-and-lyrics to full band. TV has an insane drumbeat, but starts out with a somewhat smooth techno beat (though still crazy. Think of something from Bomberman.) And then: SQUEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAVUYCVIYTGCYDCUTRXUTRXAYUYWDUYWDGCVCV~~~
The vocalist proceeds to chant "CHAOS" over and over again.

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT? AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, WHY DO I LOVE IT SO MUCH?

Calling all plucky artists!

Do you have a band or solo project that needs a little publicity? I'll listen to it! Send me a MediaFire link to your EP, LP, demo - whatever - on last.fm. Just private message my account. You can also contact me on FaceBook. I have about five bands that sent submissions, but I'm always ready to accept more. Reviews will be on an every-other-day basis, but I might do some daily. Yes, I'm still going to post-actual-release albums, but this keeps things fresh.

she took the oldsmobile out past condor avenue

I'm listening to From a Basement On the Hill as I type this, so I guess that makes me somewhat of a hypocrite (since I can't play what I want when I want.) Roman Candle is the 1994 debut of the great Elliott Smith, an uber-depressed, quasi-folk singer. Here he keeps the majority of the material acoustic, and he strikes gold. The title/opening track is a soft-toned but vicious "ode" to an abusive boyfriend of an acquaintance. Condor Avenue is probably the best track; you can hear Smith's multilayered harmonies really shine. Also included are four "No Name" tracks (the smooth No Name #1 and harmonica-sprinkled No Name #2 being the best) that would later be followed up by No Name #5 on Either/Or. Everything is really mood, and his refusal to shout only makes it moodier. Some of the tension is relieved by the conclusion of the album, an instrumental country melody strangely entitled "Kiwi Mad Dog 20/20." Having listened to Roman Candle for the first time in physics months back, it really cemented my respect for Elliott Smith. He quickly replaced Beck as my favorite solo-artist and is probably one of the most genuinely depressing figures in rock.

Blog Resurrection 3: Eclectic Boogaloo

Last update was May 30th. Oh wow! School has been out for a good while, giving me plenty of time to masturbate and play Fire Emblem. And Phoenix Wright. Anywho, American Football has been dominating my summer playlist as of late, and you've probably heard me and Adam (may he rest in peace) wank over it (he's posted their discography before). Okay, I've been listening to Stay Home and the One With the Wurlitzer more than any other of the tracks, but the whole album is great shit. The jazzy trumpets, toned-down guitars and subtle whining make this a great emo album for people who hate emo.

Back from the dead!

Four Minute Mile has been dominating my last.fm charts and, basically, my life. I fucking love this album, and rediscovered its brilliance in he middle of the week. It's the grand (album) debut of the Get Up Kids and it's awesome beyond belief. There's just so much energy put into it that you want to punch a dumpster and pump your fists. Or get an abortion.

OR FLY TO THE FUCKING MOON

So, yeah. This is some good shit. The bass and synth are placed perfectly, the guitar is bitchin', the vocals are raw, and the drums are, dare I say, rad? Not a bad track on this one. Essential for all you pretentious emo types.

This post is really fucking lame!

Adam jumped ship about a week ago, in case you haven't noticed. Don't worry; he's off to bigger and better things, like puffin' down cigs like a h4rdc0r3 muthrfukkr. Stay classy.

So, yeah. This post is pretty fucking lame because I'm plugging in my solo career blog.



See? Told you it was lame. Fear not though¹, I'm still going to reccomend my shitty musical findings here, but the other blog is going to be, basically, everything that isn't music recomendations. That means I can still talk about music, which is kind of pathetic because there's not much else to write about; but I'll find stuff, dammit!

So, without further ado, my shitty new blog:


¹As if leaving would be significant to anyone

Indie? A GENRE? Controversy!

Once upon a time there was a delightful little genre called "alternative." Bands stripped off the excess noise of 80s metal and turned what was left into, you know, not shit. Leather pants were replaced with faded denim, Gibsons with Fenders¹, glam-locks with five o'clock shadow, etc. etc. When R.E.M's single "The One I Love" made it on the Billboard 100 in 1987, America went fucknuts. By the mid 90s, "alternative" could pretty much describe anything that wasn't rap or metal. In 2010, alternative is the new rock, indie is the new alternative, and rock is the new...hard-rock? You get my point though. Alt. went places, good (Weezer's first two albums, The Bends, Beck) and bad (Weezer's post-Green Album works², Nickelback, Coldplay, etc.)


In the late 80s, a couple of masterminds were creating what would go on to be known as the "indie sound." These rambunctious lil' scamps were known as the Pixies. In 1987, Steve Albini helped produced their 1988 debut Surfer Rosa, the follow up to their 1987 EP Come On Pilgrim. It was fucking awesome. Drums, vocals³, bass, guitar - everything was epic. While their 1989 album Doolittle⁴ usually gets more credit, Surfer Rosa is still a classic and cited by a fuckton of musicians as an inspiration⁵. Oh, and the album cover has titties. Fucking awesome.

(How wonderful. At the time of writing this, MediaFires decides to break down. I'll put the link up ASAP, folks.)

1. This is speculative
2. Okay, the Red Album was pretty fucking good.
3. Have you ever masturbated to Kim Deal's voice? Feels good, man.
4. Listen to this as well
5. Kurt Cobain said that Smells Like Teen Spirit was basically his attempt at a Pixies song. CUZ IT'S NOT A RIP-OFF IF YOU ADMIT IT, AMIRIGHT????//?///?

open your parachute and grab your gun

Elliott Smith will make you sad. Not "high school" sad, like the Get Up Kids or the Promise Ring; but real sad. This is due to the fact that Smith doesn't write about being a depressed teen; he writes about being a depressed human. From a Basement On the Hill was released on the same year of his suicide (2004), and it's his sixth studio album, just posthumously released. It's mainly a mix of his original works intended to be on the album, but some B-sides have been added in.

From a Basement On the Hill is one of the few albums that's sadder than Hospice. King's Crossing is probably one of the saddest songs ever made; it's also one of the greatest. When you put it into context of his suicide, it's really tragic. "Give me one good reason not to do it/So do it" is pretty overt about suicide, but the lyrics in general paint a picture of someone that doesn't want to go on living. Even Elliott Smith's interviews are depressing. I recall an interview on MTV Live where Elliott Smith is sitting on a stool, hugging his guitar while he's being questioned about his song Miss Misery (of Good Will Hunting fame.) He's not some glamorized asshole like Kurt Cobain; he's just a dude, and maybe that's why his music is so fucking good. He's singing about something that's got him so miserable, but it's hard to say what it is. So we're left to look at the details of his fucked up life and conjure up guesses as to why he stabbed himself to death.