On the heals of youtube marched in a f**king cavalcade of people looking for validation from the infinite depths of the internet. The absolute magnitude of youtube is awesome, and provides more entertainment than I could have ever dreamed. Come join me on a f**king magical journey into yotube music.
1. Welcoming to viamemo.com, Crimson Nails.
Yeah, fella’s, you’ve made it! This Christian quartet will melt your f**king face off with their bangin’ riffs and killer ass video.
2.Hoogie-Boogie Land
Drug addled redneck bliss.
3.Miss Douglas County
4.WinterBand Unplugged- “This song was written and produced Sept 11, 2008 as an act of patriotism and reverence for 911. If you don’t believe Obama is muslim check out http://www.barakhusseinobama.name“
If you’re ever lost at sea, you might want to pinch yourself before the panic sets in, because there’s always a slight chance that you’re a bit dehydrated and listening to Scars by Dream of Sleeping — pen name of solo artist Neil Cartmell of Melton Mowbray, UK. Akin to Leonard Cohen’s Suzanne, Cartmell gently caresses his six string until it lets out a hauntingly vibrant effluvium that stirs into a gorgeous omnipresence. A brooding tale of unrequited love, the endearing words of a hopeless romance efficaciously complete the song in a beautifully artistic consonance.
Ironically, Michael Jackson’s doppleganger is a three year old; but this three year old ain’t no singer. At four weeks old, Chase, the cat without a face, suffered a blow resulting in severe disfigurement — losing most of her entailing epidermic facial characteristics and receiving a subsequent leg amputated. Since Chase has no eye-lids, she requires a medication to stimulate the flow of moisture to her eyes.
For more photos, video, and info about Chase, you can visit her blog at http://chasenoface.blogspot.com/
Intelligent, intricate, and vehemently cohesive — Errand Boy’s eponymous debut is an outstanding mélange of post-rock guitar riffs and serene ambulant textures complemented by gentle ostinatos and IDM beats that, at times, become reminiscent of early Dntel, and at others, seep toward the edges of modern rock.
Poised harmoniously between the likes of The Books and Dosh, Errand Boy’s self-titled has cultivated a repertoire of cathartic, melody-driven songs blended with poignant sound-bytes of traditional Hebrew folk music, Children’s records, soul albums, and film.
The album begins with Grindcore, She Wrote [listen] , immersing the listener into a world of turbulent drums, fireworks, and chaos — seemingly brandishing the album’s opening. Errand Boy — the pseudonym of Bryan Melanson of St.Johns, Newfoundland, Canada — takes a more pastorale and hopeful approach in big o, little k [listen], crescendoing from movement to movement with a vibrant valley of soft twinkles and wonderfully placed samples.
The latter portion of this debut I can only describe as an opiate for the masses. Yes with an If [listen] takes you home, puts you down, and tucks you in — and if you’re like myself, it also gives you a sweet little kiss on the cheek. Although the ethereal synth patches and mellifluous glimmers of keys seem rather subtle and innocuous, they’re busy at work seducing every hair on your spine. And while you’re in bed, the coming home party [listen] will paint a very maudlin and nostalgic image, beginning with playground swings as an impetus into a piano aria seemingly reminiscent of a recital.
The album culminates beautifully with an organ solo, contrasting greatly from the first track, and flowing nicely with the aesthetic order. Up for download, Errand Boy’s Self-Titled album. Download, listen, love.
Amidst the layers of ethereal Eno carbon copies and lofi techno/folk ditties, Will Oldham burried a treasure in the proverbial sand and hasn’t seemed to look back. In 2000, Will Oldham (aka Bonnie Prince Billy) and Mick Turner (of Dirty Three fame) expounded on the abstract with a collaborative effort entitled The Marquis de Tren & Bonny Billy - Get On Jolly.
This shoegaze dreamscape is wrought with a tastefully placed and delightfully blurred ensemble of guitar, harmonica, and the now-and-then drum kit, leaving a bit of headroom for the beautifully arthritic voice of Oldham. Each song is colorized by sonorous, neigh melancholic lyrics adapted from poems by the album’s muse, Rabindranath Tagore — an early 20th century Bengali artist & Nobel Prize winner. Tagore wrote a volume of poems called Gitanjali, “a collection of 103 English poems, largely translations.” - wiki
“Gitanjali is also the title of an earlier Bengali volume (1910) of mostly devotional songs. The word gitanjoli is a composed from ‘git’, song, and ‘anjoli’, offering, and thus means - ‘An offering of songs’.”
Following suit with Tagore, Turner and Oldham titled their songs after the poem numbers of their adapted verses — albeit some verses have been modernized (see below), they still give credit where the credit is due.
2 & 15 - Tagore
When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes.
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony — and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea.
I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before thy presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet which I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art my lord.
I am here to sing thee songs. In this hall of thine I have a corner seat.
In thy world I have no work to do; my useless life can only break out in tunes without a purpose.
When the hour strikes for thy silent worship at the dark temple of midnight, command me, my master, to stand before thee to sing.
When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me, commanding my presence.
Below is the Turner/Oldham adaptation of poems 2 & 15.
2 & 15 - The Marquis de Tren & Bonny Billy (Listen)
When you ask me to sing, it feels like my heart will burst with pride; and I look at your face, and tears come to my eyes.
All that’s harsh and wrong in my life melts into one sweet song — and my love spreads wings like a gladbird flying over the road.
I know you take pleasure in my singing. I know that only when I sing do you hear me.
‘ Cause then I touch things that I can’t touch, I touch parts of you that I can’t really touch.
I’m drunk with the joy of singing — I forget myself and call you my friend.
I’m here to sing you songs. In your room I have a corner seat.
In your world I have no work to do; my life can only break out into songs that have no purpose.
All too often I hear the question arise, “What is punk?”
And sadly, today’s answers rely heavily on a slew of pretentious cacophony — “It’s about not caring, man;” or, “It’s thrashing guitars and 180bpm’s of drum head rippin’ action!”
I often wonder how Punk, the cultural revolution, became derailed into utter pop-culture distortion; but I suppose I just don’t care enough to tackle that conundrum. I will, however, tell you what I think punk is.
Before punk became a sickening helix of cheesy pop tunes and lazy, lackluster lyrical content aimed at the supple minds of chubby 12 year-olds, it had a sophistication that deserves notoriety. This sophistication grew in the 1970’s, creating a segue for its development in the early 1980’s and receiving merit under the pseudonym “Anarcho-Punk”. Though a small genre, I’ll break it up even further and focus on the pacifistic vein, which incorporates the group The Crass — or more-over, I’ll focus primarily on The Crass.
“Bands like Crass and Dead Kennedys have written songs that attack corporate co-option of the punk subculture, people who are deemed to have sold out, and the violence between punks, skinheads, B-boys and other youth subcultures”
After listening to a few records by the Crass, the lyrics seem to stand out as the most definitive facet that makes them a part of the punk culture. Sure, the style of music would do it, but the absolute conviction and overt anti-capitalism significance that lies within their message is the tree-topper.
“Buy this product, pay for the crap,
Quarter for the product, three quarters for the wrap.
Be a happy family, like the people on the pack,
Pay up to the profit, and you’ll never look back.”
- The Crass
Anti-folk artist Jeffrey Lewis recently came out with a release called “12 Crass Songs [buy]” that is absolutely wonderful, and in my opinion, proves that lyrical content is pivotal to defining punk music considering it still shines through in his folk renditions — which leads to the purpose behind this post:
Hey guys, check out Jeffrey Lewis‘ latest album — 12 Crass Songs [buy]!
If that doesn’t do it for ya’, here’s a tune from the album that sums up this post pretty well:
Let me tell you about one of the most vile, disturbing, yet hilarious pieces of comedy in existence: Pink Flamingos (1972), directed by John Waters.
The film follows an obese woman named Divine, played by a female impersonator, as she embarks upon a misadventure to protect her title as “The Filthiest Person Alive” from the more vigilant Connie and Raymond Marble. It appears as though John Waters reached deep into the septic tank of the cinematic hearth and pulled out the the most disgusting taboo he could find. But don’t worry, everything John Waters missed, Todd Solondz found and sculpted into its seemingly distant cousin Happiness(1998).
Expect shit eating, gift-wrapped shit, people getting the shit kicked out of them, castration, artificial insemination, bestiality, and just about anything disgusting you can think of off the top of your head.
I thought I’d get the ball rolling by cross-posting from my nondescript, hardly a blog, blog (myspace, heh).
Awhile back I read the script for The Day the Clown Cried, and it was surprisingly good; albeit a bit dark. It’s one of those out-of-left-field stories with a grim facade that transcends into a hauntingly pessimistic, yet beautiful has-been tale. I’d really like to see a tasteful remake of it. (Script here, check it out!)
For those who’ve never heard of it, here are a few excerpts from wikipedia:
“Although never seen publicly, the film became a source of legend almost immediately after its production. Controversy centered around both its widely-rumored poor taste and insensitivity, and the role it may have played in Lewis suspending his nearly 25-year film career.”
Here’s a little summary:
“Lewis plays a depressed, formerly great German circus clown named Helmut Doork during the Holocaust. Doork is past his prime and has little-to-no respect. After getting fired for causing a mishap during one performance, he shares his problems with his wife, who advises him to stand up for himself. Before he can summon the courage to defend himself, he overhears the lead clown Gustav tell the ringmaster to fire Helmut, or else he will resign, to which the showman agrees. Distraught, Helmut is caught in a bar by the Gestapo for drunkenly mocking the Führer, and imprisoned in a Nazipolitical prisoners.
Doork, being a dried-up, ill-fated clown whose fame was replaced with despair, finds himself at the center of a continuous bully circle. The inmates and guards mock him while his irstwhile friend attempts to console the emotional wounds and help Doork maintain a level head. In the end, Doork finds solace in the Jewish children across the barbed wire who, in return, find comfort in his zany antics. The guards catch wind and utilize Doork, turning him into a Pied Piper who’d lead the children to their inevitable deaths.
Intelligent, intricate, and vehemently cohesive — Errand Boy’s eponymous debut is an outstanding mélange of post-rock guitar riffs and serene ambulant textures complemented by gentle ostinatos and IDM beats that, at times, become reminiscent of early Dntel, and at others, seep toward the edges of modern rock.
Amidst the layers of ethereal Eno carbon copies and lofi techno/folk ditties, Will Oldham burried a treasure in the proverbial sand and hasn’t seemed to look back. In 2000, Will Oldham (aka Bonnie Prince Billy) and Mick Turner (of Dirty Three fame) expounded on the abstract with a collaborative effort entitled The Marquis de Tren & Bonny Billy - Get On Jolly.
Before punk became a sickening helix of cheesy pop tunes and lazy, lackluster lyrical content aimed at the supple minds of chubby 12 year-olds, it had a sophistication that deserves notoriety. This sophistication grew in the 1970’s, creating a segue for its development in the early 1980’s and receiving merit under the pseudonym “Anarcho-Punk”. Though a small genre, I’ll break it up even further and focus on the pacifistic vein, which incorporates the group The Crass — or more-over, I’ll focus primarily on The Crass.
