Wednesday, March 23, 2011

writewritewritewrite (TO BE READ IN ONE BREATH)

Do you ever feel like you should write but you can't so you just start writing something and hope that if you type fast enough, never stopping to think what it is you are actually typing that miraculously you will churn out some brilliant stuff because the process is a free, uninhibited flow of consciousness that will reveal your true thoughts and desires...Something profound is sure to emerge as a result of your fingers chattering away to the keys about the need to write like all ten extremities had just shared key bumps of charlie. Well, If this post is any indication of how effective and inspirational speed writing is, we can conclude that the process simply leads to one sounding as if they really had just done a big bag of charlie and are now desperate to communicate something to someone so they got on their precious blog and just started writing.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Jog On

This is via 24kDoug.

He tells me black metal is awesome. 

But apparently these two guys are a bunch of Herberts.

Enjoi.

Edward

c



Thursday, March 10, 2011

Throwback Thursday | The Marvelettes

Odds are you've probably heard of the Supreme's and Martha and the Vandellas.  However, most of you probably haven't heard of the 4 ladies that made the success of the aforementioned groups possible.

While the last two installments of Throwback Thursday have revolved around a late 70's sound with more groovable bass lines, rythm, and synths, today I'm reaching for something about more soulful and gritty. 

The recording's aren't as crisp. 

The sound isn't really fit for the dance floor. 

But if you aren't digging on the soulful lyrics and catchy melodies of these soul pioneers, you're in the wrong line of work.

Meet the Marvelettes, the best soul group you've probably never heard of:
________________________________________________
"Mr. Postman"

________________________________________________
"Darling Forever"

________________________________________________
"Playboy"

________________________________________________
"Beechwood 4-5789"

________________________________________________

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

#winning

There’s a long standing idea in the Western world that anyone who lends their name to the spotlight is open, in fact, deserving of any which kind of critisicm that comes their way. There may be a war on multiple international fronts, but our supermarket check stands and queues are littered with celebrity gossip.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ll surely have gotten wind of Charlie Sheen’s recent meltdown. I’m not going to carry on into too much detail on the actual on goings, but what’s more than obvious is that the man is clearly deranged, and mentally unstable.

Looking at the recent hoopla of Charlie Sheen’s latest brush with psychosis is in many ways both sad, and a reflection of the state of today.

I’m not sure if many of you remember, but while Twitter was single handedly brining democracy to #Egypt, Calvin Klein decided to take advantage of the social media buzz to peddle underwear.

Social Media is a fickle animal, with trends emerging and dying quicker than it takes to respond in 140 characters or less.

I rarely listen to the radio, but about a week ago, I decided to tune into my personal favorite, a man whose goatee is almost as bad as his jokes, Jim Rome. During commercial I switched to the other sports station, only to find the nasaly host playing clips off a Charlie Sheen soundboard, while his sidekick got in a few cheap chuckles.

Scour social media sites, and you’ll be inundated with a constant barrage of “#winning” updates and wise cracks about Sheen that made the pedestrian Chuck Norris jokes look like a reincarnation of George Carlin.
How many of your braindead friend’s decided to tell the world that they were, “on a drug called Charlie Sheen”?

Now you may think I have some sort of sympathy for Mr. Sheen. Not the case at all. I just found the whole thing to be far from funny. I mean, in this day and age, are any of you really shocked by a drunk celebrity spewing utter nonsense into a camera or microphone?

That shit was old when Mel Gibson was doing it.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Mickey Gang | ganG yekciM

Q Magazine has rated these lads the hottest thing to come out of Brazil. I'm sure Adriana Lima might have some issues with that, but hey, Mickey Gang isn't half bad. Seems indie. Seems unheard of. Do we get cool guy points for this? Who knows. Anyway, this is what we're up to on Tuesday's.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm not sure this is scientific, but these lads might be onto something:



---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Wishful thinking?

Ritchie is the Spice of Life

Few artists can be pigeon holed as easily as our most Jamaican of friends, Richie Spice. The vast majority of his work speaks almost exclusively to the superficial politics of the stoner class; and for this I salute him.

This song, aptly titled 'Marijuana', is an ode to the leaf, the buddah, the herbaceous hedonist, the highest grade. There’s no subtlety, no beating around the bush. No, the bush is undeniably the primary focus of his attention.

Too often, I feel, the specialist is palmed off as limited. However, nothing could be further from the truth. Ritchie is an aficionado, an expert, a connoisseur toker with a voice so angelic as to bring tears to even the most bloodshot of eyes.

Ritchie Spice, born Ritchell Bonner, is, as I’m sure hardly needs stating, a member of the Rastafarian movement. He wears his narcotic and Reggae influences on his sleeve. Alas the illegal status of his chosen form of intoxication, as ordained by the woefully inconsistent British legal system, renders him a threat to the status quo.

Consider a wine review in the Guardian weekend supplement. Here the individuals praising the qualities of these potent liquids in various tasting notes are venerated as palatable members of a thriving cultural community. And yet Ritchie and many other, admittedly lesser, virtuosos in his field of expertise are too regularly dismissed as mindless, addled prophets of a heinous, degenerate underworld. The injustice is almost too much to bear.

So let this blog be a portal for this underappreciated champion of the sensi. It’s a bit retro, I suppose (this particular tune was released in 2004), but that’s in these days, right? Anyway, relax (preferably as Ritchie would advocate), enjoy and appreciate this budding veteran of dread. I’ll end this with what seems almost obligatory: Jah Bless!





Note: This post was authored by our mate Alfie Hatt, who should at some point become a regular contributer. Cheers.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

LCD Soundsystem | I Can Not Figure You Out

LCD Soundsystem is a challenging enigma for me to crack. People have tried to put it into some sort of box. An ever ending quest to define what they are. What they play. I'm just not certain.

There are certain bands that have an extreme sense of consistency in their sound. They have stand out tracks, and lot's of other's that make up a steady collection that line up with their sound.

Sure LCD has the distinct voice of James Murphy. Some sort of analog synth, dance punk, electro sound that you could call their own.

There are certain songs that come from this project that I could listen to on repeat for hours. Then I hear other things, and I feel obliged to skip it. I think that's always been the appeal of LCD to me; they can make your jaw drop and just as quickly bring you let you down.

Anyway, here are two of my favourite tunes by LCD Soundsystem...



And this is off their latest album. Ironically, it's probably the catchiest tune, and if shortened, probably could be a hit: