from yahoo news...
Filipino inmates in `Thriller' video stage tribute
AP, Jun 27, 2009 7:40 am PDT
The Filipino inmates who shot to global fame with a YouTube video of their "Thriller" dance swayed and stomped again Saturday in a behind-bars tribute to their idol, Michael Jackson.
After being told of Jackson's death Thursday in Los Angeles, the 1,500 inmates at the Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center hit the exercise yard, practicing for nine hours Friday night — and into the wee hours of Saturday morning — for the show. They took breaks only to eat or when it rained, said professional choreographer Gwendolyn Lador, hired by the prison to teach the inmates the dance. (read more)
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Up for your consideration is the late, great KARP's second LP, "Suplex". Released on K records in 1995, this is my favorite KARP LP. For those not in the know; Karp existed from 1990 till 1998. Members went on to form Big Business (the best reference point I can think of if you haven't heard the magic that is KARP: Jared Warren's vocals are unmistakable, but KARP is way more of a punk band), The Whip, and Tight Bros from Way Back When. KARP is a little known acronym; Kill All Redneck Pricks.
I'm pet sitting in Boerum Hill, and they have cable, but I'm really sick of watching Law and Order. This episode is about a bounty hunter, though, and that's cool. Also, I saw this insanely racist commercial for Kool Aid last night. I was really stoned, so maybe I imagined this, but it was a black father and son sitting in the woods fishing. All of a sudden, you see the Kool Aid Man and a bottle of Grape Soda with legs running on a log in the lake, until the grape soda falls off the log. All the while, the father and son look on intently. I swear I am not making this up.
Monday, June 22, 2009
PITCTIAH was the project Mike Kirsch was involved with in 2000-2003. Musically, no where near as poppy as the stuff he did with Pinhead Gunpowder, and not as abrasive as Torches To Rome or Bread & Circuits. There's also this whole weird electronic thing going on, more as intros to songs and as in between song samples, but Kirsch does them all himself, and as far as electronica goes, it's all pretty cool. Mike Kirsch is one of the most interesting guitarists working in the hardcore/punk dialect, and this is some of his best stuff.
I feel bad that I don't have more to say about this. I think as many people read this blog for the angry ranting as they do for music. I'm not too pissed off this week, what can I say?
Myspace (fan site)
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Back when I was young and really punk, I used to go to emo shows sometimes with my punk friends and drink beer in the parking lot and make fun of all the emo kids, because they weren't different just like us. It was pretty stupid. After a long and depressing period where I worked the graveyard shift at Kinko's on Long Island (I was living in midtown Manhattan at the time. It makes no sense, I know), I started dating an emo girl. Even before that though, I loved this record. It is hotly debated whether this band was serious or a joke, but regardless: they had the whole loud/soft/screamy/singy thing down to a science, and out of all the other bands of their ilk, they were the only one to sing about drinking 40's and huffing gas. "10 songs" (they didn't actually title their records; the other ones are called "3 songs", "4 songs", etc.) is their quintessential album. The second download is everything else they ever recorded (besides this one Spoke cover off some comp that isn't all that great anyway), which is just as amazing, but 10 songs is the cr00sh jam. I would ultimately describe this as emo for people who don't like emo.
(This is a fan myspace page. I think it's fucking hilarious that whoever made it took the address www.myspace.com/noidearecords and No Idea records had to go with just /noidea. I'm just sayin'...)
Download "10 Songs"
Down everything else
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
I have nothing good to say about anything today. I know, I'm usually kind of pissy, but right now it seems as though forces are conspiring ruin my life. It's not enough that I haven't gotten laid in over a year, I barely make (well, made) enough to pay my rent, and I have to listen to people fucking through the uber-thin walls of my shitty house, but now my livelihood is being decimated. In case you don't know, I'm a dog walker. I hate work, immensely. Dog walking is the only job I've ever had for more than about 2 months that I (usually) enjoy. And with the fucking economy, client after client are losing their jobs, and when you don't have a job, you don't really need (and aren't able to afford) a dog walker. So, I went out today and walked one fucking dog. For $12. Tomorrow is a busy day. I think I have 3. I was supposed to be getting dogs from a fellow dog walker who is retiring, but that now seems all fucked up because the people are babies. I tried to make a new craigslist account so I could top post my ad more, and even craigslist was anally raping me. I needed to verify a different phone number, so I called up my mom and asked if I could have the verification code sent to her phone. She said OK, but somehow, in 2009, my mother still does not know how to receive and read a text message. 25 minutes later, I was almost in tears, but I at least had a new craigslist account. I'm sure no ones going to reply to these ads, either.
The anger and frustration I'm currently feeling can be summed up pretty well with this album. It's not an intense rage, more of a downcast, beaten down by life kind of vibe. TOLRTD is (was?) a "supergroup" of sorts, made up of both members of the band Sunn O)) on bass and guitar, Lee Dorian of Cathedral/Napalm Death on vocals, and Justin Greaves (Iron Monkey, Electric Wizard, Crippled Black Phoenix) on drums, and named after an Earth song. It's 3 songs (one clocking in at 29:26, one at 17:53, and a Killdozer cover that clocks in at a quick seven minutes) of some of the slowest doom ever, from people who helped pioneer the genre. This is their only release.
Fuck, I am so disgusted and apathetic right now that I'm not even going to spell check this shit. Fuck you. Unless you need a dog walker who will take great care of your buddy while you're at work, in which case, lets talk!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Here's a classic you may have missed from San Francisco's sorely underrated Acid King. Named after Ricky "The Acid King" Kasso, a teenager growing up in Long Island during the late 70's/early 80's who dropped a few times too many and decided Satan wanted him to kill this kid who stole a bunch of angel dust from him, Acid King have been plodding along since 1993 with little recognition. Incredibly slow, with thick, psych driven riffs, this would be great for a stoned Sunday morn. Also, singer Lori S. is Dale Crover's ex-wife, if you need some kind of "cred" to bother checking this out.
I myself dabbled in acid a few times. The last time was in the early oughts, during my brief tenure living in the shithole known as Pinole, CA. My girlfriend at the time had fucked one of my roommates and decided to move to Chicago. I was pretty bummed about it, and went down to Berkley to look for some of the scumfucks I'd been associating with, the only people in that god-forsaken state at the time who would hang out with my sorry ass. I eventually found this guy named Ferret who I had known (Sort of) from New York. He was really sketchy, but always pretty nice to me. I told him my tale of woe, and he told me to wait where I was. He walked over to this girl and started talking to her and pointing at me. "Oh no", I thought. "He's going to spend his hard-spanged change on getting me the worst prostitute money can buy. This is not what I need right now." He walked back over and told me to open my mouth. I kind of knew where this was going, and knew that THAT wasn't what I needed, either, but said fuck it. It was pretty shitty acid.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Ahh, the beginning of June. The smell of non-board-of-health approved halal kebab cooking on Brooklyn street corners mingling with the stench of my sweaty armpits. Summer will soon be here. Fuck. I hate summer. As I was walking my first dog of the day, I looked in a storefront and my reflection gawked awkwardly back at me. It was only like 80 degrees and I was already dripping with sweat. I thought about summer romance, and how a summer romance would be quite a delight. Then I thought about how it was past the time of year where I'm in the right frame for finding romance of any sort. Where would I take a summer first date? I certainly don't want to have to apologize for dripping perspiration into m'ladys tequila sunrise. And I certainly can't afford to go to one of those classy joints with air conditioning. How I envy those with under-active sweat glands. I often think about how lucky dogs are to pant instead of sweat. Yeah, I guess it would look pretty ridiculous if we were all walking around with our tongues stuck out all the time, gasping for air, but it would be a lot less disgusting.
Yeah, summer kind of sucks, unless you're one of those douche bags with some shitty crust band's patch on your overpriced messenger bag who thinks that Bloomington, IN is a cool place, but hey, you still gotta listen to music in the summer. Today's offering is my favorite album by California's stoner-rock sweethearts, Nebula. Formed from the ashes of Fu Manchu (who didn't actually break up, but I figured I'd just keep that in there anyway), Nebula is a little more rocking and a little less about muscle cars and monster movies. "Atomic Ritual" is probably a much easier listen than a lot of the stuff I post. It's sort of psychedelic, sort of pop, and is the type of thing I would blast out of my top-down LeBaron while cruisin' for chicks. If I had a convertible, or went cruisin' for chicks. It's summer music for people who hate the summer. Best tracks: "So It Goes" (their tribute to Vonnegut), "Electric Synapse", and the titular track. (huh huh, he said tit.)
download part 1
download part 2
So maybe Greg Ginn says that 90% of this book is bullshit. Maybe he's telling the truth. Maybe he's smoked so much weed he doesn't know what happened. The important thing is, as amazing as the book is, it is amazing tenfold when narrated by Rollins himself.
I've heard the stories about what an asshole he is. A lot of those stories involve people fucking with him because he is Henry Rollins and then acting like he's the one who's a prick for being a dick back. I met him once, after chasing him around the Pratt campus with Bent Outta Shape for an inane photo op, and he seemed quite cordial to me, shaking every one's hand and showing genuine interest in what we thought. Also, he said that he thought Keith Morris was the best singer in Black Flag. I used to agree, but after a while, you realize that Keith Morris was kind of a nerd, their songwriting/musicianship was so behind the curve, and that Hank's intense rage, whether real or contrived, was what it was all about.