Thursday, December 27, 2012
The hair. That jacket. The collar on that shirt. The little crick in her arm holding a smoke. That "fuck you" cold stare. Phew...be still my heart.
Well, the end of year list listmania has been an utter disaster by any measure, here at Denim on Denim. This is evidenced by the fact that there are currently zero lists up right now. Nick and I had plans to do a small year end one in which we would revisit some of our favorites from the past year but you know; holidays, snow storms, work, etc., you get the idea.
Let's not focus on what could have been and instead focus on what is. Like this bitching Larry Levan remix from 1982. Yea, why does your love hurt so much, tell me that. What's your excuse this time?
I know one thing for sure, the girl above caused many strong men to ask that exact question about her many times. Without a doubt that girl got into trouble at least once for stealing someone's hooch, smoking behind the school, or stealing her parent's car for a joy ride.
She lead the class of '52 in breaking hearts and was famous for being able to out drink any man in the county.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Nick told me that his professional wrestling name is going to be 'Pretty Nicky' and he's going to wear a jean vest with a giant airbrushed cobra on the back of it with no shirt underneath, gold aviator sunglasses, a Speedo, and chewing a toothpick. He also said this track is going to be his entrance music - all 15 minutes of it. I told him that was a great idea and that the business school of Indiana University was lucky to have a brilliant mind like his.
Of course, what I didn't tell him was that he probably shouldn't have a 15 minute long track that probably only gets played at 5am when everyone has consumed a little too much hooch. It doesn't exactly instill the fear of God in anyone which is what I think you want with an entrance song but like someone once said, "you can't break an omelette without making a few eggs." Am I right, or am I right?
Saturday, December 15, 2012
No one ever called Pablo Picasso an asshole.
Been a while. I know. This is what happens when I have zero motivation and feel like all I ever do is work. My apologies.
Year-end list shenanigan time. I'm generally torn about year-end lists because I've come to see them as simply a lazy tool for critics to basically validate their existence. "Look, I made you this list of things that without me you would never have. Love me" I'm less interested in what order you put anything in (is the fifth best track of the year really twice as good as the tenth best, etc.) and more into discovering artists/tracks I didn't know existed before. And that's how we find ourselves here with Mister Lies and his track "Cleam". Pretty mellow, slow burn jam that seems good for cloudy Saturday afternoons when your getting ready to drink. It probably touches a lot of bases that some people mind find a little old at this point but there is something about the tone and mood of this track that I really like. It's falling about and building up all at the same time and it's kind of hypnotic.
Friday, November 30, 2012
"Like everything I do in my life, I do it for the ladies" - Nick P.
Another change of pace for these parts but its worth it. Some sweet sweet R&B/Soul that is almost more creepy than anything else. Some weird organ, dub dub rub a dub bass, and some amazing vocals - enjoy it ladies and gentlemen. It's one from the vault and a reason why this blog, dear reader, is once again music blog of the year in 2012.
It's Friday. Grab the week by its ears, pull it close, and give it a big wet one on the lips and kiss it good-bye. If you slip it a little tounge that's up to you. Let's start it off right with a heartwarming story from Bill Murry on Gilda Radner. This is why when I think of Bill Murry and how he is a man it makes we wonder what I am. Like, I know he is a man, but where exactly does that put me.
“Gilda got married and went away. None of us saw her anymore. There was one good thing: Laraine had a party one night, a great party at her house. And I ended up being the disk jockey. She just had forty-fives, and not that many, so you really had to work the music end of it. There was a collection of like the funniest people in the world at this party. Somehow Sam Kinison sticks in my brain. The whole Monty Python group was there, most of us from the show, a lot of other funny people, and Gilda. Gilda showed up and she’d already had cancer and gone into remission and then had it again, I guess. Anyway she was slim. We hadn’t seen her in a long time. And she started doing, “I’ve got to go,” and she was just going to leave, and I was like, “Going to leave?” It felt like she was going to really leave forever.
So we started carrying her around, in a way that we could only do with her. We carried her up and down the stairs, around the house, repeatedly, for a long time, until I was exhausted. Then Danny did it for a while. Then I did it again. We just kept carrying her; we did it in teams. We kept carrying her around, but like upside down, every which way—over your shoulder and under your arm, carrying her like luggage. And that went on for more than an hour—maybe an hour and a half—just carrying her around and saying, “She’s leaving! This could be it! Now come on, this could be the last time we see her. Gilda’s leaving, and remember that she was very sick—hello?”
We worked all aspects of it, but it started with just, “She’s leaving, I don’t know if you’ve said good-bye to her.” And we said good-bye to the same people ten, twenty times, you know.
And because these people were really funny, every person we’d drag her up to would just do like five minutes on her, with Gilda upside down in this sort of tortured position, which she absolutely loved. She was laughing so hard we could have lost her right then and there.
It was just one of the best parties I’ve ever been to in my life. I’ll always remember it. It was the last time I saw her.”
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Young otter gettin' money, young otter go and get it, get it...
So I used to have this idea of creating a rap concept album about being a business major. Now that I'm getting a part time MBA student I'm revisiting the idea. Still not totally sure if anybody actually cares to hear about my experiences in the corporate workplace and reteaching myself financial accounting, but it sounds good on paper.
So, not to get too far away from the roots of this blog, but man cannot live on house and disco alone. Truth be told I'm a thug rap dude, through and through. I told some people a while ago that I was going through a rap phase and they quickly reminded me that it's not a phase if it's been going on since you were 11. Banger of the week is the new single from the upcoming T.I. release, but really, his involvement is totally incidental. This is yet another instance of a rapper inviting Andre 3000 on his track to be absolutely embarrassed on his host track. Note to rappers: he has been doing this for the last ten years. He's going to make you look like an idiot. OK, so the track is called 'Sorry' and T.I. spends his two verses talking about how he's not sorry for anything. Andre on the other hand apologies to his mother for being an asshole as a kid and apologizes to Big Boi for being a weirdo and screwing them out of several more millions of dollars. Especially funny since Big Boi just called him out for passing up spots on his album for Gillette commercials.
Anyway, shit is ON FIRE.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Your holiday weekend or your life? I like to call this a choose-your-own-adventure metaphor.
Oh, what? You don't like talking guitars? Because they sound too much like Peter Frampton and remind you of your high school years driving aimlessly around your hometown looking for cheap beer or a place to smoke your crappy weed? Dude, that's your problem, not mine. You're gonna have to untie that knot on your own. Don't be bringing that weird negative energy around these parts, man.
DJ Steve - has a guy who knows a thing or two about Colombia.
DJ Steve - walked into a hole-in-the-wall bar in the outback of French-Canada and the staff knew exactly what to pore him; two snake-bites and a beer.
DJ Steve - only uses a Bowie knife because he likes how the black-orange-ish light of the alley lights reflects off the end of it.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
What a bunch slack-jawed yokels.
My man crush on Theo Parrish continues rolling along and knows no bounds. Not sure who this Andres Ashong cat is but he's working with Theo Parrish so he can't be bad. Also, check out what sounds like a tuba at 2:30, interesting. Soul? Check.
And, for your Saturday night viewing pleasure may I proudly present shitty video from a Wu Tang show where-in our hero, Theo Parrish, jumps on stage to perform O.D.B's verse in 'Protect Ya Neck'.
Now, that is a red bloodied American patriot.
Friday, November 16, 2012
This picture is exactly how I feel today. Like there is a giant horseman standing behind me trying to start shit. Get out of here horseman! Go haunt some other poor soul.
How did we not post this already? I swear I had a conversation with Nick about this but apparently I never got around to actually putting it up. Huge oversight. I take full responsibility.
From the amazing Omar S. It's really the remix but I don't care. Detroit house I think is a really appropriate term for a lot of Omar S's output. It all has this edge to it but it never falls over into hard housey/techno land. It straddles this line of having some balls but still being something you could put on and people aren't going to freak out about how much they hate techno.
It's like if someone made a really cute crocheted sleeve for a giant Bowie knife. That's what Omar S's music is like - it draws you in with its charming good looks but you know you can also bring it to a knife fight and not be embarrassed.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Nobody wants to be alone. Not even police.
Well, looks like we're all getting back into form, no? Finished up my first final of my first quarter on my way to becoming a future business leader of America. I feel filthy. Regardless it's nice to exercise my brain for a change. I mean, wandering these mean north campus streets staggering drunk and writing blog posts is mentally challenging in it's own way, but what good is it if it doesn't come with a $50,000 piece of paper?
Owning up to my prolonged absence I'll elect to do a double this week. In fairness I'll be doing a lot of doubles this week, but that's because by brother is visiting from LA.
Let's get back to what this is all about, shall we? House and disco.
I don't really know what this track is, but it starts out with radio broadcasts announcing the shooting of Marvin Gaye and then gets into some mean early 90s house.
I know this next track because it was once featured on an episode of Homicide when Frank Pembleton gets shot. This is an edit by Dynamicron.
Yep, that's right. That's a photo of Wilt Chamberling and Andre The Giant carrying Arnold Schwarzenegger circa 1980-something. Wild times. Based on the pants and lack of shirts I would guess they were on their way to some sort of party to enjoy some 100% Colombian white vixen. They were all going to be sweating so much later so Wilt and Arnold decided to go sans-shirts. Probably for the best.
They probably got all wild eyed and hoped up and put on some of this Softmore to come down to. Probably enjoyed the soft company of maybe a young lady or two. Legend has it that Arnold use to say that if he didn't have her bra off by the time this track was done something was wrong. Srsly.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Back by popular demand.....
Oh, my goodness it has been awhile. Whooooooweeeee. Where were we? Not a lot has changed I suppose, we are still living under the thumb of our black socialist president (all hail him) and my fantasy football team is still in the crapper. It's like nothing has changed.
What do you want to know really? Here's what happened, the election freaked me out so all I could listen to for about three weeks was Songs: Ohia some obscure metal albums. I mostly fussed around trying to not think of a world were Mitt Romney was our president. I wasn't really in the dancing mood you could say. But, listen, it's all good now. My doctor said we could go back to our regular posting schedule.
Rare groove indeed. It's over eight minuets long and it feels like it has ten separate parts to it. This is what they used to start the nice off right back in the day. Build that foundation of a groove you can set your watch to.
Welcome back all.
Monday, October 15, 2012
A buzz-saw has no friends.
It's my birfday. I want to thank everyone for the awesome ice cream cake and well wishes. Very much appreciated. Now, all of you should come out and get drunk and dance this Saturday night at the world famous Taj Bar in Columbus, Ohio. I will be standing next to a turn-table/lap-top set up playing tracks that I like. I'm not going to call it DJing because I don't know how to do that. But I do know the hits.
Also, the new Italians Do It Better album was out today but I didn't get a chance to pick it up yet. So this is why we are listening to this tonight. It's my birthday, I do what I want!
Sunday, October 14, 2012
FFFFFFFFFFFFF....way too few posts lately. That is totally my fault. Not yours. Don't beat yourself up about it.
Generally speaking, Sunday nights are the worst. Just the pits. Nothing good about Sunday nights. Just the all encompassing dread of the coming days. Normally I have nothing to really help solve this problem. I usually just curse the night and live with it. Tonight though I have two options to make it better:
1. This totally bitching Freddie Knuckles track - it's called the whistle song for a reason. A little jazzy but I think it pairs well with this shitty Sunday evening weather.
2. We are DJing this coming Saturday night. That's right, in the flesh, Nick and I. I'm going to refer to it more as playing records than DJing but you get the point. All the important details are here so I'm expecting to see you all there.
See, two things to make your pathetic Sunday night a somewhat more bearable You can thank me by coming out this weekend.
Monday, October 8, 2012
And now a poem.....
Down to boogie downtown tonight.
Joints will be unhinged, limbs will flare.
You ain't the prettiest bell at the ball,
but you are the boogiest.
Stout, hazy, rough around the edges;
A unpolished gem that burns bright.
DownTown NYC is your dance move.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Beast for thee
Lukas Nystrand? Lukas Nystrand. Soundcloud is telling me this track is over four years old, but it is brand new to me. Standout track of the week really. A little melancholy house that wants you to take this moment and reflect.
I found this note on the ground and thought it seemed apt for today's track:
If I were to wish for something
What I should wish then,
a bad, or a good time?
If I were to wish for something
I would like to be just a little happy
because if I were too happy
I would long for suffering
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Tell them when I'm gone that every day I tried.
Dirty, dirty, disco for your Thursday evening. Yea, it's only a sample, but it's a long one so enjoy. Disco House? House Disco? House? Disco?
For the enjoyment of the patron of these electronic pages may I now offer up some unsolicited internet advise - please stop it with the F'ing Sesame Street references. That horse died almost within an hour of Mitt Romney talking about Big Bird last night. Beat. To. Death. You're take on it at this point is not original and mostly redundant. Sometimes the internet is just the worst.
So, there you go. My old man rant for the day. Enjoy this nasty piece of disco delight and get off my fucking lawn you kids!
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
A Hindenburg of feverish delights
A spaced out funk/pysch/house burn for your Tuesday evening. Its old, lo-fi, dream like space seems right for this rainy mid-week night.
It's the little things people. The little things. The blast of the horns. The rolling bass. The perfectly placed Roland chords that just get my blood going. Just, frosts my cookies, let me tell ya.
Frosts. My. Cookies.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Enjoy this while you can because I'm expecting this to be ripped from the inter-webs any day now. The Purple one and his henchmen will surely find this and remove it from these hallowed halls. Which is a shame - something this frighteningly marvelous should be preserved. It should be given it's own wing of a building. Poems should be written in honor of it. Strong women should name their first born'd after it and proud men, in the company of other proud men, should toast it.
Prince is a perverse man. He wraps movements around other movements. He has total disregard for what the listener just heard and seems to delight in his attempts to throw your tender ears of the sent. It's a kaleidoscope of sounds, parts, lost pieces all tied together with chewing gum and duck tape. It's like he went to the dump, bought every last auto-part and fused them all together to make a spaceship. In the hands of a lesser man (read: every man) this would never work.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Lets just have a good time
Some say human experience is one of longing, suffering, only to be interrupted with brief moments of joy and child like wonderment. Sometimes the negative attributes take the form of an all encompassing nature to were you can feel it in every molecule in you. It weighs largely on you shoulders and some other times it feels like you have a grotesquely obese person fixed squarely on your chest and you can't breath. And then other times the moments of amazement are just as consuming. A kiss, a taste, a scent, a sound, a feeling - a feeling that, in this author's opinion is most commonly associated with what the experts like to say, 'you got butterflies in your belly.' Which leads us to a list things that have tickled this author's senses recently, in no particular order:
Beer from Honduras
A hot dog I ate at a baseball game this weekend in the bleachers
A warm bed
And, this tune.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Realize it's been a while, and also recognize that it will probably be a while until my next post. In any case, I have been reminded that this song is a distant cousin of 107.3 The Wave in Akron. This is becoming one of those times where you find out your parents were looking out for you all along, even though it was torture at the time. Their music wasn't nonsense, it was the ashes of disco and the liver and kidneys of modern soul and R&B.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Mmmmm, yes. Theo Parrish. He's like the professor emeritus around these parts. Theo 'Huxable' Parrish we call him.
Theo Parrish once jumped up on stage during a Wu Tang concert to fill in for ODB. Basically, Parrish played ODB at a Wu Tang concert and nailed it. That's the mark of the truest of gentlemen. (Editors Note: This story is not something I made up. I swear.)
Summer has passed which means we have no entered the waning months of the year. Fall - generally overrated in my book. Not because fall is inherently bad but it is because every year it simply serves as a harbinger of horrible things to come. If fall lasted eight months simply to turn into spring that would be the greatest outcome. It's not Fall's fault that is is followed by a season that if it was human would look like some sort of deformed pig-faced monster.
Those people who say they like winter - insufferable. I LOL in their general direction.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Night of Horrors
Some men seeing to some business
Some men grabbing at the fabric of time and unraveling it
Some men, angry, angry like their names have been besmirched
Some men who have felt the flesh of the fairer sex between their arms early in the morning only to be gone when the first rays of the sun break the horizon
Some men who when they finally shuffle off this mortal coil will have tombstones that read, "it was better to live rich than to die rich"
Some men named Feel My Bicep
Monday, September 17, 2012
Loins of fire.
I swear, when I first flagged this track last week it was only 2 minutes long. Between then and now someone posted the entire tune which is great for me and you. God bless you, whoever you are.
I've been listening to this tune for about week now - I think it's pretty great. Just some nice House/Dance/whateveryouwanttocallit that has a great vocal sample and an even better groove. Well done, Jonas Rathsman. You've made your Nordic ancestors proud. Which, seeing how Rathsman is from Scandinavia might explain why he left this as the liner notes to this tune:
Mankind is a rope tied between man and beast - over an abyss.A man who knows the despair and discomfort of everyday life on this third rock from the sun - Jonas Rathsman. His elixir for this? Bitching tunes.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Bloodstone - a stone used as an amulet to protect against the evil eye.
Well, well, well look-y here, another Omar-S track. Two in one week - blasphemy. Discogs is trying to tell me that this fine tune is from circa 2003. You can tell that this is from another place in time in the Omar-S discography. It doesn't have the normal traits of an Omar-S track but that's fine because it is still besting the day.
Omar-S, the truest of gentlemen.
I think what I like about this music is that if used properly it is a passive event. I enjoy how I can put on a long mix and sort of wonder in and out of it. It can be ubiquitous in some ways. You put a track or mix on and you come and go. You make some dinner. You read a book. You hear something you like and you focus on it. You think about how much you enjoy it because it reminds you of this one time you kissed this pretty girl and then you go back to reading your book. I don't have a need to hang on every note of every song. That sounds exhausting, in fact.
This idea will probably not sit well with high minded music critics in their ivory towers with their monocles and berets. I don't care for those people. They should be attacked by she-bears and ripped to shreds.
Don't tell me that's a duck with a man on his ass when I know it is a man with a duck sitting on his head. Don't do it.
Sloppy Angel. The Noodleman. I don't know which one I like more. Probably, The Noodleman, but only by by the whiskers on a cats behind.
You know what I do like? This track. I've been told by sources that I wouldn't trust as far as I could throw them that this song is less than four months old. I don't believe it. Not for a second. The truth is The Noodleman, and God bless every last hair on his bald head, The Noodleman has a time machine. Yea. He owns a time machine. He built it out of spare parts he found at the dump. It runs on banana peels and old motor oil and smells like an gym sock. Either way, my less than trustworthy sources told me The Noodleman went back in time to New York City, in the year of our lord 1979, and recorded a disco track with the hottest band at the time, stole the tapes, retreated to his time machine and returned to present day. Hence, this beauty.
I don't think it's fair though. I mean, if you have a time machine, you have to kill Hitler first before you go and steal a disco track, right?
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Just walking my alligator
I'm being told that this track is probably two years-old, if not older. No one said we were going to give you nothing but shit that comes out each stupid day. Sometimes you gotta dig and find the good shit. Because, on that note, I could never work for a place were every day you were required to dribble out some nonsense about every new track/album that comes out that day. That sounds like the definition of soul crushing.
But we aren't going to talk about that right now. We are, instead, going to talk about my undying love of all things Omar S. God. Damn. Do I love myself some Omar S. And today was a good day, dear reader. Know why? I stumbled upon a cache of Omar S tunes I didn't even know existed. Let me tell you, that is a good day. That is the kind of thing that makes my stomach feel funny like I'm in love again for the first time.
It's a dark, crushing world out there, precious reader. If the external environment doesn't get you then it's most likely going to be the super germ you have in you, festering right now, that you don't even know about. That's why finding stuff like this is important. It's the analog synth drums that make me get out of bed in the morning. It's the soulful vocal parts that are given just the right about of space to shine. It's the piano keys that melt the great icy core of my inner being and help me realize that today, noble reader, today, is indeed a fine day.
Friday, September 7, 2012
A bunch of half-wit dim-wits
Yea, not the best quality rip ever but you get the point. It's still better than anything else you've listened to all dumb day. It also holds the title for best track title of 2012.
If there was a soundtrack to make hot sweaty mistakes to I think this would clearly be on the list. You know, the kind of mistakes that lead to possibly rushed weddings, estranged relationships and awkward mornings.
Friday masquerading as a Thursday. A day that wanted you to think you had one more retched 8-hour trek through work. But then at the end there's a surprise for you - it's not Thursday night it's Friday night. Uhh.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Rookie of the year? L.I.E.S aka Long Island Electrical System aka Johnnie Hot Cakes aka Bronco Dollars aka Jules Nixon aka Jimmie Stick'm-Ups. You really don't want to call him Jimmie Stick'm-Ups though. He doesn't like that one.
Also, Delroy Edwards' first instrument was a garbage can and a 25-pound dumbbell. Edwards would bang on the trash can with a stick in one hand and then lift the dumbbell over his head and drop it on the ground so it made a sound like a sack of potatoes falling out of a window. The key was to make sure you were dropping the weight onto ground that hadn't received any water in a few days so it was still dry but not parched. That's how he first fell in love with the low-end.
Legend has it that Edwards still carries that dumbbell with him to this very day. He always gets to the club before anyone else, normally when he arrives it's just the waitstaff sweeping floors and taking down chairs off the tables. He brings his dumbbell with him and stands in the middle of the dance floor - just him and his dumbbell. He'll start playing some tunes and then begin dropping the weight on the floor and then run to the decks to fiddle with some knobs. His goal is always to make the bass coming out of the speakers match the feeling of standing next to that falling weight.
It's a craft and he has his tools.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
A tanker of fun
A man with style that only a mother could love
A man that raises a glass and toasts the sound of a lost era
A man that sees the beauty in the groove of a bygone time
A man that says he believes in God because he would rather be right than wrong on the matter
A man named Josh Deep
Monday, September 3, 2012
Frank wore three piece suits because I think that was all he owned. Three piece suits, white dress shirts with french cuffs, and wing tipped brown leather shoes. He was a gentleman, a scholar, and a man about town. He didn't walk as much as he bound from place to place. Walking seemed to be an ungodly waste of time separating him from wherever he needed to be. At six foot six and built like a steardy old tree this always looked like Sandrow was trying to dent the world instead of walking.
Two things in life kept him from practically springing off this planet and into his own orbit: Women and gin. Preferably both at the same time. Around the corner from his 19th century townhouse that he bought with cash was Frank's second home -the beautiful wood paneled bar The Penquin. On almost any night by 9pm you could find Frank standing at the bar drinking his gin fizz and ordering drinks for a woman sitting at the bar.
He'd first make sure to catch their eye across the bar. It wasn't hard of course, he was the tallest man in the bar and the only one dressed in a three piece suit. He'd regal them of stories about joining the rebels in the hills during the war. He'd talk about how he though he was going to be a socialist but decided against it because he didn't like all the meetings. He would wait until just the right moment when after a drink or two the women asks for a light. He'd light her cigarette, watch her take the first hit, exhale, and smile to herself like she knew a secret that no one else did.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
What's it like to never fail? Where is the joy in always succeeding? Think about the first time you did anything like ride a bike or try and ski. You failed. You failed horribly. The skies went out from underneath you and you fell over. Or your Dad let go of the back of your seat and you rode off in an elliptical like curve only to hit the curb and fall over.
It was rough. You probably cried or you thought to yourself, "why the fuck would anyone want to sit on the side of this hill all day in the fucking cold." But you got up. You kept trying. You failed some more but every time you failed you failed a little better. One day you went out there and you rode all the way down the street without falling over. You succeed. You learned the joy of succeeding because you had eaten fucking dirt.
What if you were Mike Simonetti and you seemingly never failed? What keeps you going? Is it just a job at that point that you do like any other one. Is it still sweet or just bland? Without the famine where is the joy in the permanent feast? I imagine it becomes a cross, an albatross you're forced to carry with you everywhere you go.
I don't think Mr. Simonetti is sitting up at not worrying about this. His existential spirit is probably kept at bay by the hoards off beautiful women I imagine he pleases every night. But, dear reader, say a pray tonight for our hero, a man whose hands know only the cold touch of gold and the troubled mind of unlimited success.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
9 minutes of weird, late night disco/dub edit goodness.
Right in the wheelhouse.
Ummm, like a jab to the breadbasket.
Hits ya right in the solar plexus.
Gets ya right where it counts.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Stole this .gif from me in my place. Couldn't help myself. Then again I usually can't help myself when I'm on that site.
The downtown dive Main Bar has recently been brought to my attention. A beautiful building, the only one on a downtown Columbus block, Main Bar stands as a nonjudgemental beacon in the middle of a city gone mad. What I mean to say is all people are welcome there. Young, old, black, white, straight, gay, rich, poor. Does not matter, all are welcomed with open arms. Equal parts of the bar paying attention to the Browns preseason game as the Reds game. Madness, or the perhaps the opposite. The dude on the jukebox was playing filthy funk and R&B on the jukebox. Mean shit, too. The kind that really makes you wish you were driving around listening to the radio in 1982.
This is one from a group called The SOS Band. Atlanta crew from the late 70s/early 80s, they were putting down some pretty provocative/slutty shit for their day. This song is basically about a girl permitting her man to have as many girls as he wants, as long as she's his #1. In a way it's almost feminist.
Upon further research on The SOS Band they had another hit that I vaguely remember hearing being sampled in some 90s rap jams called 'Take You Time'. This video is a painfully dope performance on Soul Train. All of the band members look like Andre 3000 with some kind of nautical/Sgt Pepper vibe. God everyone is on so much cocaine.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
You're so baby
The astute reader may note that this song is becoming a 'thing'. The gentleman & gentlewoman reader may also note that this track is becoming a 'thing' due to the fact that Ariel Pink covers it with Dam-Funk on his newest album. I would also like to bring to the attention of the above than average in intelligence reader that this track is amazing and a national treasure. A god-damn national treasure.
Make note dear reader, when I finally shuffle off this mortal coil I want this track played at my funeral. I want your speeches about the time we sat up until four in the morning listening to music, drinking too much and solving all the world's problems. I want yarns spun about my feats of strength and intelligence. I want bold face lies told. But most of all, I want this played when you carry me out to my final resting place.
Monday, August 20, 2012
The sleep of a thousand starless nights.
HOT! Hot stuff here. Hot crooning action. Not for the prudish or ones with delicate sensibilities. Something about amazing quality. A witty remark about the sexual nature of the song. A smirking, somewhat condecending thought about how this reminds me of some band/artist you have never heard of. Make weird comparison to possibly a delicious meal.
Tired can't even begin to explain the condition I was in today. It was all encompassing. My muscles were tired. My joints were tired. My bones were tired. My soul was tired. At one point, I had a real thought that was if I was to die right now, it wouldn't be the worse thing. I would get some much needed rest.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
A dashing mutineer.
Sandrow M, a well known captain of industry. A man who once said, "take care to sell your horse before it dies. The art of life is passing losses on." How do you think he ended up in the tuxedo, he wasn't born with it on. A gentleman and a scholar, Sandrow has been known to demand the most from his colleagues and partners in business but they all know, never, ever, enter into a trade with him that involves a horse. You will only end up disappointed.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Bloodied and bowed.
It's like two competing thoughts in your head at the same time. The gin infused F. Scott Fitzgerald once wrote that the mark of a true genius was the ability to hold two opposing viewpoints in one's mind at the same time and still function. Or something like that. On that note, Mr. Torn Hawk, purveyor of balearic slow techno, consider yourself a man of high minded intelligence, viral, and possibly even engorged.
Gin soaked. I like the idea of that.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
She put a curse upon this town and now nothing will grow.
Almost exactly 365 days late on this. If not more. Listen, I only have two ears and 24 hours in a day. That means sometimes things fall through the cracks. Like this one. It's not disco, its not house, its break music made from late 90's acid. So, there you go.
Oh, it's fleeting isn't it. Those little things. Just, those little affairs were the world surprises you for a heartbeat and the the lights shine brighter for just a single moment. That's where it's at, I suppose. The sweet spot. Araab Muzik knows what I'm talking about. The human effort to continually delay the recognition of the horrors of everyday life. The Sisyphean effort to avoid feeling the malaise and self doubt.
Araab Muzik once said that he had a dream where he was chained to a giant boulder on top of a mountain. Every night a falcon the size of a small bus would fly down and peck out his liver. He said he had this dream every night for months at a time. It wasn't until he authored this track that the falcon stopped visiting him in his dreams.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
The beast with the mark on his heart.
Honestly, this track probably does not need to be 12 minuets long. Really, the meat of it is up until about the 7:00 mark. Do what you will after that but at least stick around till then.
I'm a man on a precipitous. Summer isn't suppose to do that to you. Summer is about the opposite of that. Summer is clearly broken.
I read about this woman from ancient Rome who was a homicidal assassin. Her weapon of choice? Poisonous mushrooms, of course. She was granted immunity by Nero because she basically murdered who ever he wanted until of course, he died than things got, what I believe they refer to as, got real. Legend has it she was arrested and sentenced to death. Except that this death sentence involved being raped by a specially trained giraffe and then being torn to bits by wild animals.
Yep, there you have it.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
In a moment of ultimate fuckuppery, I managed to forget to cancel a flight. I could have sworn I told that Pakistani lady working for AmEx Travel to cancel that shit, but lo and behold, I never did. Advice for all: when they tell you those calls are monitored for quality assurance, they really just mean they're gonna turn that shit right back on you when you call and raise hell to get your refund. Fuck me.
Been a rash of Chris Malinchak hits on Twitter and Facebook over the past couple weeks. Can't figure much else about the dude other than that he's affiliated with the French Express crew and he's from NYC. Regardless, this track I got on repeat is really getting me through this trying time right now. Just a feel good track with some nice bouncy bass, slight jazzy drums, sultry vocals and throwback synths. At least enough to make me want to get out of bed tomorrow morning. Plus, as is customary, there's a link on the soundcloud to a free download. So fuck off, AmEx.
Monday, August 13, 2012
I'm not entirely certain I haven't already posted this track before. This is what you get here - a specific lack of attention to the details. The little things, yea, they don't matter much around these electronic pages of the internet. Repeat or not I still dig this one. Something about that bubbling synth sound running throughout it that makes me want to listen to it on repeat.
Guys, Amway is still a thing. I just saw a commercial for it. If you purchase an Amway commercial you are the greatest Amway salesman of all time, right? I mean, all other Amway salesmen can just pack their stuff up and head home. You've won.
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Gonna rename the Olympics, "America's got talent."
Something a little bit more subtle this time around. It's the small things that count the most. The details.
Pilooski is prone to bouts of startling fury. He's been known to defile the names of the father, the son, and the ghost at the drop of a hat. His fits are legendary. Upon reading a poor review of his most recent album in the Moscow Times, he loaded his 1940s Mercedes convertible with twenty bottles of champagne and drove two straight days to the paper's offices. When he arrived he removed a 12 bow inch knife from his sock and used it to pin a note to the front door of the building. All the note said was "The more I kill, the more I LOVE." Pilooski then passed out in the street from exhaustion. He was taken to the nearest hospital, put in bed, and slept for a fortnight.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
The look in their eyes. The look that causes well laid plans to be aborted. You know the one. The one of unflinching disgust in your actions. The recognition of failure in all you do. "You try and you still fail", that's what their thinking.
That's a good one isn't it. Just gets you right in the guts.
Next time your fuck up in front of your beau and they give you that look you can rest easily knowing that this song exists in the world. You may be 100 percent inept and you make nothing but horrible decisions but you still have two ears that work so you can just listen to this.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
This shark is considerably better than Ben's shark.
In nearly every conceivable way.
In nearly every conceivable way.
Coming to you live from a hotel room in Bloomington, IN. Spent the last 14 hours basically locked in a room with other first year MBA students working on a case study. Closest I've come to going truely mad in a while. Wait, except for when I saw THE-DREAM at the Ohio State Fair at 7 pm with crazy JPP. So I guess not that long ago. But I digress. Either way I have spent a lot of time with Tomorrow's Business Leaders over the last four days and have another two to go. This could get ugly.
But I am now back to the room self medicating with this song from Inoj remixed by some cat called Fire for Effect. This was the first song on the Pictureplane Modular People podcast from late last year. You might remember this song from the 80s when it was performed by Ready for the World or again in the 90s when Inoj did it. The intro lines are pretty famous, used in a lot of rap hooks.
And there's a free download link on the soundcloud. Have at it suckas.
I read the other day that Jaws was ranked as one of the best Libertarian films of all time. You know, free markets, individual liberty, the government not getting in the way of your right to hunt a man eating shark, blah blah blah.
Hmmmm, yes. A new Dead Rose Music Company single. I'm digging it. It's got the right amount of disco-ish flair but sort of at a rate that may pass as not actually disco. It's disco trying not to be disco. Or seeing how far we can pull disco down into this soupy abyss that is inhabited by man eating sharks and still call it disco.
It's not going to burn the house down but it's going to keep you warm at night.
Monday, August 6, 2012
The Girl Who Flirts With Death
Ohhhh man. Pheeeewwwwwwww. Do you feel that? Just that enormous weight on your shoulders? That creeping sense of dread? Like you're face down on the ground and the largest person you have ever seen is sitting on you. You don't feel that? Huh, I guess its just me.
I'm not even particularly enamored with this track. Don't get me wrong, I like it well enough. The thing is I have been listening to High On Fire's newest album for four days straight which may explain somethings. So, I kind of stretched with this one.
Also, High On Fire - amazing band. Does it really fit with anything that is going on here - not one bit.
On another note: I have to stop watching the Olympics because I'm now dreaming about them. This is a problem.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Sorry, I don't have a good excuse for why we haven't posted in a couple of days. Malaise? A bad case of the dropsies, maybe? Who knows really.
Stumbled across this track early this morning. Nothing like some analog drums and throwback synths to get your Sunday started off right. Wah wah wahhhhhhh.
I heard Matthew Styles carries an eight inch buck knife everywhere he goes. Really. Loose talk on the streets has it he's been known to stalk his pray through the dirty, trash strewn alleys of Detroit and sneak up behind them while they least expect it. He will then extract his knife from behind his belt and draw the dull side of the blade across the throat of his enemy. He says he does it so he can feel again.
I don't know dudes, he sounds a little crazy to me.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Prompt: Michael Phelps is America's laziest Olympian in 2012? Ever?
Speaking of being lazy, I didn't have time to track down a tune for this post. So I farmed it out to Nick. So blame him.
It's been brought to my attention that Nick feels very strongly about the Grand Theft Auto radio station that he first heard this track on. Nick mentioned that somehow through the alcohol induced haze that was college he remembers hearing this track and, "feeling like there were angles in his heart."
I don't know what that is all about.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Diabolical Angel. That's the best metal band name ever, right?
New Dam-Funk. Sounds a lot like the old Dam-Funk. But as Karl Marx once said, if it ain't broken, don't fix it. True story.
Dam-Funk has a way of making every song sound like early 1980's. Huge hair, big Cosby sweaters, and no air conditioning ever. Just hot sweat rolling down the back of your neck causing your shirt to stick to you in uncomfortable ways. All the time. Before we invented A/C in 1999 the population of Florida was half of what it is now. The only thing in Florida were old people and crocodiles.
Yea, all that nostalgia for the 1980's, they don't ever tell you about all the sweat, do they?
Sunday, July 29, 2012
This sounds like the colors in this picture.
Yea, it is late. For sure. I'm sitting here watching Senna, half paying attention and then this brilliant track came rocketing into my life from no where. It's perfect Sunday summer music. I believe this is what Brazil sounds like. If Brazil sounds like anything it looks like than it sounds like this. God damn.
Also, no idea what the name of this song is or who authored it. After a series or quick Google searches I am very confused what versions are original and what versions are remixes.
I am a 100% certain that this is awesome though.