The Umbrella

Concavity

2009-11-19T13:49:00.000-08:00

I feel the deep grooves in your face
On my fingertips
With every breath
I fall deeper down the smooth sides
Of each

Concavity

You tell me your story
I listen
Grasping onto each word for just too long
Leaping from one note to the other
For just an hour

For rhythm is our time
It goes “pat pat pat” on the sand
Melody is our architecture
Crashing and building with each wave
Music wrapped around your story

Then I almost see it
A murky tear, maybe?
Please, don’t cry
Or I’ll become deaf to the waves
Blind to the moon

As my fingers numb
I desperately run them through your curly, dark hair
Trace your strong brow
Follow the soft edges of your lips
Sink leagues into your face

It’s a dry cold at the bottom
Blue and bruised
A frostbitten field
I am afraid to move
Petrified

A heartbeat
As my arm brushes against the steep wall
Brine flows from the cracks
Along burning red faults
The flood of ages!

The water boils
The billowing steam bellows
The iron is lifted
You are free
To fly away

Goodbye, my Skylark
I loved you when you were cold
I feel you when you can’t
I’ll keep you when you’re old
In my own

Concavity

~Anonymous

Dispatch fr da North

2009-11-04T11:50:00.000-08:00

Last Saturday, there was a Halloween show @ shitbox in mid-town Anchorage. A rambunctious affair, here's the band list: the Flying Hearts, Los Gran Torinos, Stubby's Crack Co., Downed By Entrails, and the Spenard Satans. The audio-track bled gypsy punk and black metal. An eternal polka de los muertos. Booze, crimson, street folk/creatures, and even a gawd-damned chainsaw all made appearances. It was the first time I've ever seen beer & vomit icicles on a car. Nerds will never come out of the carpet, still picking up pieces of doors and bookshelves, and we put a few more dents in the ceiling.

Obviously, a grand time was had by all!

~e.b.

All of Me

2009-10-29T15:58:00.000-07:00

--Lila enjoys an ocean skinny dip in a barren cove. Boulders confine the cove. Her clothing and accessories cover one boulder. As she swims she sings All of Me be Billie Holiday enchantingly. This may be what men once knew as a siren’s song, as she is a water nymph. Her song causes small strings going to pull unseen objects into the water. Jay finds himself pulled to the cove by one of these strings. As he gets closer, he looks for the song, until he is almost in the water. Her sight shocks him, but not vice-versa. She did not lure him on purpose, but this happens enough that she is not shocked.--

Lila- You took my kisses and all my love. You taught me how to care. Am I to be just remnant of a one side love affair. All you took. I gladly gave. There is nothing left for me to save. All of me. Why not take all of me? Can’t you see?… Hi there… welcome… Aren’t you going to say hello? You boys and your politeness. It always gets in the way of your manners. I’m not afraid, so I’m giving you a second chance… I mean now.

Jay -Hi there, I’m Jay, Jay Edward Howard.

Lila- Three first names?

Jay- Just the two. Howard is a last.

Lila- And unfortunate.

Jay- It’s not fair for you to insult my name, when I don’t know yours.

Lila- You’re getting better, but you can be more direct.

Jay- Fine. What’s your name?

Lila- Lila.

Jay- Lila…?

Lila- Just Lila.

Jay- Ok, just Lila, what brings you out here?

Lila- I was in the mood for a swim.

Jay- Plenty of places in town.

Lila- Oh… well I also like a good sunbathe.

Jay- Well that’s… oh!

Lila- Would it make you more comfortable if I emptied my purse for a swimsuit?

Jay- I’m fine, there’s nothing wrong with nudity to me, I’m naked all the time, I sleep naked eat naked, walk the dog… aren’t you worried someone will see you?

Lila- Why?

Jay- You’re supposed to be… decent.

Lila- And what if I’m indecent?

Jay- Well…

Lila- Why don’t you cool off a bit?.. We’ll be fine if we’re indecent together.

Jay- Another time?

Lila- I’ll pretend I’m blind. Besides, it’s not fair for you to be dry and me to be wet.

Jay- Names are one thing…

Lila- Then go. I like privacy or company, not this.

Jay- I felt compelled. Something drew me here.

Lila- That’s a surprise

Jay- This isn’t unusual.

Lila- Nope. Seems every time I relax, a boy like you has to interrupt me.

Jay- I’m no boy.

Lila- Really? Well then. Are you in or out?

Jay- It is a nice day.

--Jay tentatively disrobes and lowers himself into the water.--

Jay- Oh Sweet Mr. T it’s cold!

Lila- Get a little meat on those bones, like a seal, and you’ll be fine.

Jay- I’ll handle it.

--He swims closer.--

Jay- Watch out, we don’t want to get too close.

Lila- There’s plenty of room.

Jay- But it still is crowded. Why is that?

Lila- Humans crowd the most open spaces.

Jay- It’s not like you’re different… A ha! I knew it. You aren’t normal.

Lila- I do have some large feet.

Jay- No, I mean you’re not a person.

Lila- Sure. What am I then?

Jay- Something drew me to you. A song. Are you a siren?

Lila- Nope.

Jay- Harpy?

Lila- Same thing. And I had no intention of anyone interrupting my vacation.

Jay- But you are something? My grandfather warned me about the sea when I was a boy. Told me of beautiful women who lured you to your deaths. Are you a mermaid planning to drown my in the waves?

Lila- I don’t want to hurt you. I’m just relaxing.

Jay- Then why don’t you tell me?

Lila- Have some fun.

Jay- This isn’t.

--He swims to leave.--

Lila- Wait. I’m teasing. Have you ever heard of selkies?

Jay- You’re a seal?

Lila- Not exactly, legends distort things. As you see, I wear clothes not a pelt. I’m more like a water nymph, an Ephydriad like in ancient Greece.

Jay- My grandfather told me the story of the fisherman whose catch would grant wishes. He had financial issues, he had health issues, he had… issues. Said if he could catch one of you, his life would finally turn around and all his wishes would come true.

Lila- Do I look a koi?

Jay- No, but he said the fish was actually a woman. Can you do that?

Lila- Wishes? Sort of. The ocean has more than land could ever hope to offer. My people have a talent for utilizing it.

Jay- Any chance, you could grant me some?

Lila- Sure I’ll grant you a diamond mountain and rainbows of… Seriously?

Jay- It’s not important.

Lila- I didn’t mean.

Jay- It makes sense; you’re the other kind of nymph.

Lila- Other?

Jay- The wishes you grant are a bit more, in the present.

Lila- Jay…

Jay- Don’t worry, I’m gentle.

Lila
No. No, no, no, no, no. No.

Jay- Wait… what?

Lila- Sorry. You’re an interesting man Jay, but-

Jay- I see, “legends distort.”

Lila- I never said-

Jay- Sure. But if you aren’t going to eat my flesh or take me to your underwater kingdom, then why?

Lila- Can’t I just go for a swim?

Jay- You lured me.

Lila- For what? What makes you that special?

Jay- How should I know, I’m not a sea hor.

Lila- Jay Edward, get out of my ocean.

Jay- I’m not done with my-

--The waves rise an fall in rapid succession. Jay is almost smashed onto the rocks.--

Jay- What the hell you crazy bitch?

Lila- Get out!

Jay- Alright, alright.

--He climbs up, takes away his clothes and flees. The waters calm and Lila eventually resorts to her singing.--

Lila- All of me. Why not take all of me? Can’t you see? I’m no good without you. Take my lips I want to loose them. Take my arms I’ll never use them.

--Jay sneaks back in fully dressed and makes his way to the boulder. When he talks, she is the stunned one.--

Jay- Hey just Lila, I had a thought. My grandfather told me the selkies couldn’t return home if you had their pelt. And the mermaid had to obey the fisherman, because he caught her. So, I wonder, what would happen with these?

--He holds her clothing.--

Lila- Give them back!

Jay- Why?

--The waves rise again.--

Jay- Stop.

--The waves stop.--

Jay- So it works.

Lila- Please, I need them.

Jay- Sorry, they’re mine now.

Lila- No!

--She climbs atop the boulder and grabs her clothes. Jay runs away. She checks to make sure everything is there, but cannot find an earring.--

Lila- My…

Jay- Don’t worry. I’ve got it safe.

Lila- Really?

Jay- Yes, why don’t you come with me, and we’ll work something out.

Lila- Away from the sea? My family?

Jay- You’ll have a new family. Together we’ll make lovely kids and a substantial fortune. Right?

Lila- I…

Jay- You are coming with me.

Lila- I… I know.

Jay- Great, you follow me now. And put some clothes on, you look like a joke.

--Lila dresses in her clothes. They resemble kelp and her jewelry resembles the animals that live on it. Jay beckons and Lila, without any resistance, follows. She knows in this moment, she is hopeless.--

The end

written by Nicholas Seyyed

halloFUCKINGween

2009-10-27T22:21:00.000-07:00

perhaps the best way to spend Halloween is at a show with drunk people in skimpy costumes and even better with drunk musicians in skimpy costumes...

Reggaetronic Halloween: A night of Rock and Reggae with Everyday Prophets
720, 720 SE Hawthorne Blvd., 236-1190

Steve Kimock Crazy Engine
Aladdin Theater, 3017 SE Milwaukie Ave., 234-9694

Pierced Arrows, HILLSTOMP, Frank Furter, DJs Miss Carriage and His Terectomy, Mike Daily, Chris Newman Undead Acoustic, Westward the Wagons, Kate Mann, Elvis AN ALL DAY AND NIGHT 15th BDAY BASH
Ash Street Saloon, 225 SW Ash St., 226-0430. $10 after 8 pm, $2 4-8 pm. 21+

Mortal Clay
Backspace, 115 NW 5th Ave., 248-2900. $5. Map

Fall Into Darkness: YOB, Ludicra, Witch Mountain
See listing, page TK. 8 pm. Berbati's Pan, 231 SW Ankeny St., 248-4579. $12 advance, $14 day of show ($30 for 3 day pass). 21+

Howl
10 pm. Branx, 320 SE 2nd Ave., 234-5683

Pepe & the Bottle Blondes, The Slants, Burlesque Acts, DJs and More!
8 pm. Crystal Ballroom, 1332 W Burnside St., 225-0047

HALLOWEED
8 pm. Dunes, 1905 NE Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd., 493-8637. $4

Andaz: Anjali & The Incredible Kid
Fez Ballroom, 316 SW 11th Ave., 221-7262. Map

After Dark: Halloween Pre-Phunk
Groove Suite, 440 NW Glisan., 227-5494

Dr. Adam, Freaky Outy, Colin Jones, DJ Same DNA, DJ Mad Max
9 pm. Holocene, 1001 SE Morrison St., 239-7639. $3. Map

Girlyman, Lucy Wainwright Roche
9 pm. Mississippi Studios, 3939 N Mississippi Ave., 288-3895. $15 advance, $17 day of show

The Airborne Toxic Event, Henry Clay People, Red Cortez
9 pm. Roseland, 8 NW 6th Ave., 219-9929 (Grill), 224-2038 (Theater). $15 in advance, $17 at door. 21+

Edouble-Market, Lady Collosis, Rythma, ATOM, Forest Avery, Ryan Walz & Mason Robert, LunaLena, Joshua Lee, Patricio, Bounce Brigade, Children of Discord, Sportscars, Solovox, Manoj, El Capitan, Outersect, Medicine For The People, David Starfire, Hydrive, The Twilight Beings
9 pm. Rotture, 315 SE 3rd Ave., 234-5683

Paper Brain, Holy Children
10 pm. The Knife Shop, 426 SW Washington St., 228-3669. $5. 21+
The Parlour

Second Annual Baba Yaga Ball: Vagabond Opera
10 pm. The Woods, 6637 SE Milwaukie Ave., 890-0408. $16 advance, $17 day of show. 21+

Starfucker, Deelay Ceelay, Nice Nice, Wampire
9 pm. Wonder Ballroom, 128 NE Russell St., 284-8686. $14. All ages. Show doubles as a Halloween party/costume contest.

enjoy.

10 brutal albums

2009-10-26T22:24:00.001-07:00

So it's almost Halloween. To properly fit in during a time that evokes feelings of violence, brutality, death and the like, you should probably get schooled on all things heavy. So this Halloween night when you are dressing up as a fireman or zombie or a slut or something like that, give the Indie a rest and head in a new direction. Put on some denim, crack a beer, light a doobie, and put up that fist. You know what to do...

10. Mayhem – Dawn of the Black Hearts

Live bootleg from this legendary Norse black metal band. Not actually that brutal, or even good for that matter, but had to be included in this list because of the many absurdities surrounding the band. One member is currently serving time (not a life sentence, I might add) for murdering another bandmate, and numerous members have been convicted of burning churches. The scene featured on this album’s cover is the band’s former singer, Dead, headless and bloody on the ground after shooting himself with a shotgun, pictured to left of his corpse. \m/

9. Corrupted – Se Hace por los Suenos Asesinos

If you consider Sun O)))))))))))) to be the masters of drony noise doom, then you probably haven’t heard Corrupted yet. Long, discordant, unrealistically slow, and creeeepy as fuck. With only three songs and probably less than five chord changes, Se Hace… brings the heavy to the minimalist genre like a Viking skullfucking a lifeless Phillip Glass.

8. Ire – What Seed, What Root?

Classic metal without shitty metal influences. Ire probably listened to more Born Against or Cursed than they did Celtic Frost, but still make brutal music that is definitely not hardcore and definitely is metal. This album was released by CrimethInc. back in the day when Requiem and Catharsis still toured, so you know its heavy. The liner notes probably come with instructions to shellbomb a building or kill a police officer, but I’d suggest finding it for free somewhere on the internet and not supporting an organization that sustains itself by feeding off of the naïve delusions of seventeen year old anarchists.

7. Graf Orlock – Destination Time: Tomorrow

You’ve got to respect a group of film school dropouts who love movies so much that they dedicate their band to celebrating them. And not just any movies… Destination Time: Tomorrow continues the celluloid drenched saga of time travel, shooting xenomorphs, and fighting terrorism. Featuring the likes of gems like Aliens, True Lies, Lethal Weapon II, and The Terminator spliced seamlessly between crushing musicianship, and ending with an epic interpretation of the Jurassic Park theme, this 10” will undoubtedly leave you balls deep and wanting more. And no, it’s not a joke.

6. Asschapel – Fire and Destruction

The only punk album I’ve included on this list, Asschapel was just too perfect to leave out. Sludgy, fast, slow, heavy, riffy at times, and very, very, dirty.

5. Mind Eraser – Conscious/Unconscious

With the third full length from the Northeast’s Mind Eraser, I have to say I was a little surprised. For a band that usually plays ten to fifteen songs in less than twenty minutes, I wasn’t exactly expecting a two song LP that clocks in at just over the twenty minute mark. This is, however, without a doubt the band’s best work to date. Taking all that all that is good about powerviolence and stretching it out into one giant sludgy masterpiece, this band has proved that they are modern kings of brutal music.

4. Nirvana – Bleach

Had to include it. Maybe you don’t want to admit it, but if you like good music and don’t like Nirvana then you are probably fucked in the head and should stop listening to music. Bleach was released in 1989 and was Nirvana’s first album, but has a pretty dramatically different sound than most of their other stuff. Sludgy with lots of distortion and also features some of Kurt Cobain’s best lyrics. One of only two records ever released on Sub Pop to go platinum. I might add that the other best selling three records released by that label are Flight of the Conchords, the Postal Service, and the Shins. Fuck sub pop nirvana rules.

3. Sleep – Dopesmoker

It’s one song. Its sixty-three minutes long. It doesn’t really change. It has skulls and pot leaves on the cover. So. Metal.

2. Eyehategod – Dopesick

Formed 4/20/88. One of the all-time most dope-as-fuck classic sludge metal albums ever, Eyehategod are demons who punish the world with brutal music and drink whisky with Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden in hell. Reigning from New Orleans, Louisiana, this band throws the blues, metal, and punk in a gangbang and shoots heroin in the corner as they jerk off and watch. If you think that you can come up with a more badass and completely fucking legit sound in another band, then you are definitely wrong. Eyehategod is better than your favorite band. I’m sure of it.

1. Cryptopsy – None So Vile

This album gets my number one spot. What has now come to be considered a “benchmark” of technical death metal, None So Vile was just the second full length from these Canadian legends. Featuring the vocals of Lord Worm (who actually ate lots of worms out of a metal chalice at shows), None So Vile is the standard to which all other death metal albums are compared to. Stunning musicianship, undecipherable lyrics, and enough blast beats to kill a small child, this is the most brutal album I can think of.

-ds

make miles

2009-10-21T00:28:00.000-07:00

I killed a frog the other week. I used a pair of stainless steel shears. I slid one blade gently into its mouth and put the other right behind its eyes on top of its head. Then I squeezed and severed its spinal column. It died immediately. Then I cut off one of its legs.

Later, I sat on the porch and talked to Sarah for a while. I told her how I read a book once where empathy was the last tattered vestige to humanity we had left, where outside of that, outside of something which, as excruciating as it may be, was ultimately indescribable and perhaps not real, or at least to our skin and to our intellect, existed miles upon miles of both flesh and steel and not a single difference between them. A lot of people saw the movie.

For a long, long time, I thought my empathy would be my savior. Empathy taught me to be human, but I fear that I lost a vital part of my humanity along the way. Feeling was replaced by knowing – knowing of limits and values. Responsibility and virtue are similar culprits. There is, no doubt, beauty in virtue, but not if virtue is a shield for breath. So, I think this is me, abandoning. Giving up on my former edifices, built with the bloody stones of others’ footsteps and stacked mercilessly upon the foundations of doubt, recoil, and limit. That’s what knowledge is, what knowledge tries to instill in the hearts of youth and our allies.

Well, fuck knowledge. I’ll take sensation any day. Tomorrow, when I wake up, I’m going to try really hard to forget my inhibitions. I don’t want to be held back by foundations anymore. I’m not going to sulk in mediocrity anymore. Tomorrow, I’m going to get really, really, excited.

And, in retrospect, when all has been said and I have prevailed, I wonder if I’ll look back on these four years and laugh. Of course I won’t, but I might want to. I’ll try hard to forget little things, wanderings, mistakes and the like. And then some day I’ll remember that it all happened – it did. Experience will be our monolith to the sky, our answer to the gods. Strangle life by the throat and you will be rewarded.

-ds

A Series of Lists Regarding Last Night

2009-10-16T07:14:00.000-07:00

Here's a list of reasons you didn't go see Why? play with Mt. Eerie at the Wonder Ballroom last night:

1. You went to Grizzly Bear instead.
2. You had to write a paper, probably about Virgil or Homer or some greek shit like that.
3. You stuck around the house for some quality time with a bottle of Inglenook and your old copy of "The Perks of Being A Wallflower" meditating to the sound of your loneliness with your Low playlist on repeat and shuffle at full volume.
4. Still recoiling from the Pamphlette's accusation about murderous anti-semitic activities at Lewis and Clark, you were busy writing an angry letter to the editor.

Here's what you missed:

1. Phil Elverum has apparently left his folky pleasant strums behind for this tour and picked up two drummers, another guitar player and two keyboard players (with four keyboards) to form what looks to be the best heavy, melodic, transcendent and tranquil slowcore band I've heard in a while (see "Low" above). It was awesome, even if the crowd couldn't manage to shut the fuck up for 30 minutes during their set. It made me want to listen to their 2008 "Black Wooden Ceiling Opening," even though they didn't play a single song from that record. They did play a metal-ass version of "Lost Wisdom" though.

2. Why? tore it up. Not only was Yoni Wolf spot on vocally, his brother Josiah Wolf provided a rhythm section that was un-fucking-shakable, Andrew Broder (Fog) killed the guitar, Mark Erickson (also Fog) headbanged unnecessary amounts, and ridiculously good keyboard player Doug Mcdiarmid was hot in a Don Draper after work kind of way.

3. Most of the songs were from "Alopecia", because that's still what people seem to know best. That's ok, but the new album is better. The songs he played off of "Eskimo Snow" were the most dynamic and engaging, while his hip-hop material garnered more arm waving and pointing.

4. Yoni Wolf danced, a lot. Remember Rick Moranis? Never forget.

So here's a list of things you should have gathered from this article:

1. Grizzly Bear is pretty good, but you probably went to the wrong show.

2. Greek and Latin are boring and so are the stories they told, even if some fancypants fop in the 18th century decided to translate them into english.

3. Drinking alone is sad unless there's a really good reason to.

4. Sometimes too clever means not funny.

5. Mount Eerie has been good since before you started listening to real music. They are still getting better. Go buy "Black Wood Ceiling Opening" and "No Flashlight" and The Microphones' "The Glow Pt. 2."

6. Two drummers ALWAYS makes a band better.

7. The Wonder Ballroom's sound guy knows what's up.

8. So does Why? go get "Eskimo Snow" and drunkenly request those songs next time he's in town.

All in all, good shit. I kind of wish they would have play a Hymie's Basement track though.

-Will

he's a come back kid...

2009-09-15T19:35:00.000-07:00

no seriously folks, COMING SOON: the return of our star-studded contributors!

Keep Your Eyes Peeled: Summer Releases

2009-06-04T09:30:00.000-07:00

Artist: Elvis Costello Album: Secret, Profane & Sugarcane Release Date: June 2

Artist: Black Meteoric Star Album: Black Meteoric Star Release Date: June 9 Label: DFA

Artist: Sonic Youth Album: The Eternal Release Date: June 9

Artist: Anti-Flag Album: People Or The Gun Release Date: June 9

Artist: Dinosaur Jr. Album: Farm Release Date: June 23

Artist: The Mars Volta Album: Octahedron Release Date: June 23

Artist: Wilco Album: Wilco (The Album) Release Date: June 30

Artist: The Cave Singers Album: Welcome Joy Release Date: August 18 Label: Matador

Artist: Arctic Monkeys Album: ? Release August 25 in the U.S. Date: August 18 Label: Domino

Artist: Yo La Tengo Album: Popular Songs Release Date: September 8 Label: Matador

and dont forget to check out the feast spring left for us to chow on...

Iron&Wine: Around the Well
Ben Folds: Ben Folds Presents University A Cappella!
Dirty Projectors: Bitte Orca
White Rabbits: It's Frightening
Jane's Addiction: A Cabinet of Curiosities
Bob Dylan: Together Trough Life

-mh

Coffee House Crawl

2009-04-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

Imagine bar hopping without the hang over. Sounds glourious right? Well, this past Saturday a-COFFEE SHOP a-hoppin' I did a-go. Portland has a gargantuan plethora of quality coffee joints, all of which I wanted to take advantage of. Ergo, in a single morning I hit elven different coffee shops and one cupcake bakery (didn't even know PDX had one of thoes)! While in each shop, I observed the good, the bad, the ugly, and the kind of music playing. Most of the shops I stopped in were hip and with it, but a few were just plain bizarre or worse, bland as grape nuts. My coffee house crawl went a little something like this:

Portland Coffee House (SW Alder and Broadway)- Good: free sample of biscotti, super comfy chairs. Bad: busy, could use more staff and space, music volume was too loud, had to shout to in order to hold a conversation. Ugly: had to elbow through a crowd of bums to get inside Music: odd assortment of Kings of Leon, Mos Def, They Must be Giants, Tapes N Tapes, and Willie Nelson Best For: Mexican Mocha and people watching
Pete's Coffee and Tea (SW Washington St. and Broadway) Good: spacious, anniversary tea Bad: small chairs, music was too soft. Ugly: it's a commercial cookie cutter chain, staff was grumpy. Music: always Classical, romantic/classic era Mozart and Beethoven. Best For: people watching (you can sit at one window bar and and watch the people seated outside's entire conversation)
Bikini Coffee (SW 5th Ave. and Alder) Good: baristas in bikinis!? Bad: customers were both creep men. Ugly: hole-in-the-wall small. Music: none, the barista answered in response to my question "What sort of music do you play here?" with "Music? What do you mean, like people? No we don't really do that." Best For: oogling if you're into girls. (watch this)
Java Man Coffee (Chinatown) Good: fast service. Bad: everything else, opens to the street and is drafty. Ugly: airport coffee stand feel. Music: Doris Day and 50's Atlantic City Lounge music. Best For: if you're on the go.
StumpTown Coffee Roasters! (SW 3rd Ave. just past Oak St.) Good: local art, chic furniture, quality selection of magazines to buy (Adbusters, Paste, Vice), best dark roast, bike parking, turn tables! Bad: if you're not an inoculated hipster, you may not fit in here. Ugly: nothing, it's a beautiful place for beautiful people (just ask Colin Meloy). Music: vinyl baby! space for performance, Paul Simon, Tears for Fears, Patsy Cline, Quite Riot, Elliot Smith, Bob Seger, Duran Duran, Ratatat. Best For: hipsters.
World Cup Coffee & Tea (inside Powell's Books) it was silent here...very fitting for a book store. Music: none. Best For: reading whatever you just bought.
Sip & Kranz (the pearl NW 10th just past Johnson St.) Good: breakfast- the works oatmeal, apple cider, warmth and sunshine, across from a park if you'd like too oogle other people's dogs. Bad: the occasional screaming child. Ugly: there weren't actually any crayons damn it, I wanted to color. Music: Teddy Geiger Pop and last year's top 100 hits. Best For: Pearl district families and eating with your dog on the patio.
Via Delizia (NW Marshall St. and 11th) Good: friendly staff, faux Italian themed. Bad: faux Italian themed, doubles as a bistro. Ugly: nothing too bad. Best For: cheap n yummy gelato.
URBAN GRIND (NW 14th Ave. and Kearney St.) Good: EVERYTHING!, buckets of comfy chairs and ample seating, cheap and delicious coffee and baked goods, thousands of electrical plugs, free wifi, great meeting space, bodacious green walls, friendly staff, free magazines to read, quality, class, comfort. Bad: location, it's a trek from downtown. Ugly: nothing. Music: Classic Rock, beBop jazz, Led Zeppelin, Blizin Trapper, Miles Davis Best. For: Studying and getting shit done.
Pio Square Starbucks (Broadway and Morrison) Good: quick service but... Bad: long lines, it's a space to be moved through. Ugly: it's a commercial cookie cutter chain. Music: Pre-selected Starbucks Compilations, which are usually inaudible. Best For: waiting for the Raz out of the rain.
Grendel's Coffee House (NE Burnside and 8th Ave.) Good: steamed soy milk and cinnamon, perky staff, cheap eats, free wifi and free computers (if you forget yours). Bad: on a busy street. Ugly: nothing. Best For: posting event flyers, someone on a budget.
CupCakeJones (NW 10th and Evertt St.) $1.50 gourmet mini cupcakes...need I say more.

There you have it, my coffee shop hop. My head was a buzz and my feat were beat, but at least I can now give the thumbs up to Urban Grind, StumpTown, and Grendel's with some confidence. You could take my word for it or try these shops on for size yourself, find which one is your golden atmosphere. Go forth and coffee shop crawl my friends!

-mh

Spring, 2009

2009-04-26T22:27:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of my dad, skiing.

I’m getting some new hair. I gotta change my identity; protect myself from the evil that crawls the water-fountain lined streets of downtown Portland. I’m like the queen of stupid, the go-to-girl-to-heckle, the chick with the big brown hair. Round’n’round Chinatown, they know me, aint never goin back- without a new do.

It was a good day when it happened. The sky was pale with clouds, all ribbed like scrunched pieces of binder paper trying to unfold. We were all on our third slice of tender pizza and just chucking runts at people in front of the Roseland. It seemed like a cool idea to suck off all the sugary aspirin coating and then fake-punch each other- you know, to make it look like we just got 6 molars fucking blown out of our mouth, all from just one of Haley’s monstrous punches. We were living like pigs, like dogs, living in the world, eating pizza and runts, and shoulder tapping people who looked cool enough. Crumpled down into a gutter, we leaned back and tried to digest the sticky ball of shit that had grown into a horrible mess in our stomachs. Things started to get weird. Haley and I closed our eyes, humming Ave Maria, breathing slowly and harnessing our voices. We laughed like mad men after, all warm and cozy at six pm on a Saturday. We turn around and there’s this guy, what’s his name? “Joshie, his name’s Joshie. Oh dat? Dats Joshie!” All right.

“Hay, you girls look like you be needin something”

“What, you need a hotel room of something, I can get that”

“Oh, you girls need some booze, eh, shit I can get you that right o’er here.”

“Ya, I saw that Asian’ lookin chick eyen’ me, she’s all like, scopin people out an stuff, looking at me.”

“You from Madison, Shit I’m from Milwaukee,”

“Ya, I like it over there, Wisconsin’s where shits at”

“Yeah grew up there, “

“Well, I’m here now, ya, Now I write screen plays”

“You know, movies and stuff, screen plays, like that”

“So four forties then, an what I get in return man, I aint doin this for free”

“Naw I get something”

“Three dollars isn’t good, girl, weak”

“What’s your deal now huh”

“Alright she’s got some type of funk n shit”

“This girl means business, she knows what she wants”

“That shit wack, ya’ll be talking too much”

“Theres like a puddle over there, and she’s all like noooo, don’t talk to me, and the Asian lookin chick is the one who was checking me out. We gonna do this o what”

“Hey y aim AbulaDouchey, want summa this”

“Naw I don’t do that stuff, wife wouldn’t like it, got some kids, to think bout”

“Oh, him? He Joshie!”

“Dats Lil Prince Billy, he’s got the money”

“Here take this, ya know”

“Why not, what you think this be a good idea, Ill do it better, free”

“Hay, Lil Prince Billy!”

“Faith in humanity, you say you got faith in humanity?”

“She says she got faith in humanity”

“Joshie gun come back, faith in humanity!”

“Didn’t have it, all out, c’mon lets go oer here”

“Lets go oer here, now”

“Luts go now here”

“Jus right there, now”

“No, I ain’t givin nothing back”

“no”

“No.”

“No!”

“NO!”

“Hay! And she’d got all this faith in humanity! Faith in humanity! NO! Faith in humanity! Faith in humanity! NO! Faith in Humanity!

“No, not getting anything back, gave it to me, see.”

“Wahtchu do is you go now and chu call 9-1-1, see that’s what chu do.”

“FAITH IN HUMANITY!”

And then we ran. We just ran. For about seven blocks, until the pizza and runts almost escaped. I trusted Joshie, some fucking creep in a Rastafarian yamika and scuffed Airwalks with my fifteen bucks. And Abuladouchey, the one with the small outline of a tear drop tattoo nestled in the right cornea. Like Lil Wayne, Birdman, that one guy in Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, he’s been in the clinker. And Little Prince Billy, the bald one in a faded Rip Curl long sleeve t-shirt, with wrinkled palms cupping six one dollar bills and a baby afro hairbrush; disregarding his apparent lack of hair. And then everyone else, the homeless day walkers of Portland proper. Half dead, half blind, half fried, crusty people, trundling along in whirring motorized scooters, shitting in their pants, scraping their one ambulatory leg along the cement, dragging the ghost of another leg a couple feet behind. I hate these people. I hate my hair too, Harajuku; I need new hair.

I got heckled, left without my dignity, and money, and now scared and slapped with a streak of sour vulnerability. But I still had my good’ ol, goddamn, god forsaken FAITH IN HUMANITY. I should have flashed my t-shirt; it said “Leave Me Alone” in confrontational Helvetica font. I want to repeatedly spit out millions of sweet tiny runt teeth into Joshie’s poisonous yellow eyes; I also kind of want to kill him. I felt like a puddle of fear and shame, a puddle of curdled milk and chilled clam chowder. No more will I fork over a quarter for an independent homeless publication, “Street Sheet” or “Street Spirit.” I hate the Portland day walkers: Joshie, Abuladouchey, and Little Prince Billy. “Leave Me Alone.”

We did rediscover the spirit of resiliency within us and hobble over to Dekum manor, only to sit and sulk in the linoleum tiled kitchen while watching two pudgy, Mervyns-wearing, Reebok-lacing, squishy girls eat each others faces whilst gyrating to this shitty New Orleans gumbo band with a fucking saxophone. Life sucks. But then this guy with a big red beard who we met earlier in the day came to the party and bought us an eighteen-pack of PBR for free and that’s all folks. Happy Saturday in FartLand Oregon! The End!

By Lauren Fischer

Dan Deacon- Bromst (2009)

2009-04-26T15:33:00.001-07:00

colorful-crayon music, dance till your feet fall off, one heck of a good time! These are all accurate descriptions of electronic musician, Dan Deacon's newest album. Most of the album was recorded live with a full sized ensemble, a delightfully new and kickin' contrast to Deacon's single handed power of effect pedals and wave function generators on past work. BROMST, as it's titled, is a step in the right maturing direction for Deacon. Since 2007's SPIDER MAN OF THE RINGS, Deacon has bee a busy bee both inside the studio and out. He states, "[Spiderman of the Rings] was very carefree and youthful -- sort of partying for the sake of partying. This record is less about a party and more about a celebration" on NPR's Talk of the Nation. Indeed, Bromst is one gargantuan and energetic celebration. So, turn on the beats and celebrate!

rating: 9

Track picks: "Ref F" "Wet Wings"

M. Ward- Hold Time (2009)

2009-04-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

Typically after listening to any of M. Ward's past studio albums, I will swoon, I will admire, I will even Google his name to try and find where he hides in Portland making his old-soul music, hoping that he'll invite me to join in. But when I gave M. Ward's most recent release a listen, no such reactions were inspired. It may be that Ward is moving on, taking a slightly more performer pace in today's rapid momentum that is music. As a follow up to both 2006's POSTWAR and 2007's TO GO HOME EP, HOLD TIME just does not hold the same time as Ward's past lyrical motifs and nostalgic melodies. For this album, Ward collaborated with such artists as Tom Hagerman of Devotchka, Peter Broderick from Horse Feathers, Zooey Deschanle of She and Him, and Lucinda Williams. Paradoxically, most of Ward's collaborations pick him up when he sings of being down. On track "Oh Lonesome Me," Lucinda William's man-haggard honky-tonk voice is a glaringly shrill comparison to Ward's swimmingly lush and soothingly sorrowful vocals. The combination makes for the worst track of the album. As critical as my word's have been, amazing and enjoyable still are Ward's tantalizing guitar skills and groovy timpani beats. Just simply being touched by M. Ward makes HOLD TIME a cut above the rest, but for my own M. Ward expectations this album falls short.

rating: 7

track picks: "Never Had Nobody Like You" "To Save Me" "Shangri-La"

so You thiNk YOu CaN DJ?

2009-04-23T14:18:00.000-07:00

The other afternoon I scrambled to the KLC studio after class, punched in the door code wicked fast, and fell face first on the studio's dilapidated forest green couch. It had been a super long day. I was bone tired, and desperately need to stop, drop, and no I wasn't on fire...just needed to sleep. Thereafter, I decided to browse the CAVE (our gigantic Music Library) while I waited for my time slot to come up for my show (Dear Audio Abby every Thurs 12-2pm). This was a bad idea. With what started out as pulling two maybe three cds for listening rapidly grew into a small mountain of albums piled high in the corner for burning (for FREE!). Once I gathered the music I was going to play for that day's show, I sat reading all the profound hieroglyphics scrawled across the cave walls. One such statement reads, "this is a fucking profound statement ." I went on to play some tunes, answer some questions from an impromptu interview with a passing by Templeton friend, rant about bureaucratic 21+ venues, and answer some advice letters MUSICALLY. After my show was over and it was time to go back into the "world outside KLC," I realized that I was rested, rejuvenated, revitalized, and most importantly, sane again. KLC, my Prozac! What a wonderful place to be a part of.

for more reading about being a radio dj click here

-monique halgat

Dr. Dog, The Cave Singers, Golden Boots WONDER BALLROOM

2009-04-23T14:17:00.000-07:00

I would have rather dealt with the worst, most slick ticket monger in the world than have had gone though the hassle I did to see Dr. Dog at the Wonder Ballroom. Me, as brilliant as I have proven to be, thought it clever to buy tickets from the Wonder Ballroom box office and beat the TicketMaster service charge. Ergo, a friend of mine and I checked the box office hours of business and printed out directions. Here I thought I was being so pennywise AND stickin' it to the man. But nobody told me how difficult it is to stick it to the man when you print out the wrong directions and the box office tenant never shows up for work. At this point, I thought about resorting to Craig's List but then remembered my past experience buying tickets off Craig's List. The last time I tried that route I got a call back for "two hours of pure pleasure" and an inquiry about an antique oak dresser set. As for Dr. Dog, I eventually gave in and bought the tickets for twice the price on TicktMaster.

Despite my ticket hassle, the show was WONDERfully delightful. Dr. Dog, the Cave Singers, and the Golden Boots (none of them were actually wearing golden boots but that is just fine by me) played Portland's NE Wonder Ballroom Wednesday April 15th. It was a night filled with pirate shirts, lead-heavy guitars, washboard folk diddys, melodica melodies, and killer sunglasses coupled with stylish facial hair.

New to my music radar, the Golden Boots were a pleasant surprise of psychedelic folk rock and two drum sets. Rapidly becoming one of my favorite acts, Seattle's Cave Singers tore up the stage and left the crowd abuzz with excitement. Their on-stage camaraderie and jump-jiving tunes have kept me coming back for more, five times in the past year to be exact. Once the night had warmed up, Dr. Dog rolled out in a puff of pot smoke and quelled the rambunctious crowd with an EASY BEAT. Their set was complete with mood lighting and area rug! To my surprise they played what seemed like nearly one billion songs. Their encore even had a staggering five songs! I most enjoyed Dr. Dog's collective dancing on-stage. I never knew that people could bop for the entirety of their performance. The lead singer even had duck taped his shoe because he had toe-tapped it in half. Like the heel of Toby's shoe the night was never motionless. I would highly suggest investing in the TicketMaster service charge to see such a WONDERfully delightful performance live.

-mh

nurses

2009-04-23T13:16:00.000-07:00

Seems as if Portland is the refuge for musicians who want to make real art these days. "Down with commercialization! Down with popularity! Down with the ugg boot! We're moving to Portland", said music nomads THE NURSES. After drifting from Chicago to Southern California to Idaho and back and forth and in between, this quartet has finally found a happy home in the hills of Portland. They currently have two albums to their name, debuting with //Hangin' Nothin' But Our Hands Down\\ in 2007 and mostly recently wrapping up recording //Apple’s Acre\\. If you're into Animal Collective, Q and not U, or the Born Ruffians, chances are you'll swoon over the Nurses. With swirling floktronic melodies and lush Bohemian beats, the Nurses are sure to find Portland a warm and welcoming home. You can hear them live this Saturday the 25th at the Doug Fir Lounge and keep tabs on all things Nurses at MYSPACE or ROCKYMOUNTAINSTREAM ...you can even download their single "Lita" at WillametteWeek .

(pictures courtesy of http://mainstreamisntsobad.blogspot.com/)

-mh

SUNBURN 2009!

2009-04-23T13:06:00.000-07:00

(the Nurases)

(Personifying O)

(Free Food!)

-mh

Proverbial masturbation

2009-04-12T02:28:00.000-07:00

"There's nothing different between us sitting here drinking Olde English in a field, that guy gardening, and going to a music festival. It's all like masturbation. We're the same [unchanged] people, just with new experiences."

"We're trying to do our job, and you are impeding us. This is private property and if you don't like it you can leave."

Why do we do the things we do? In some ways we are following a trail and making decisions when we come to forks in the path. In other ways our choices don't really affect the outcome, and simply reflect a series of miscommunications, or the abstractions that allow individuals to move forward in competing postmodern dichotomies. By this I mean that our actions are in reaction to the narratives that we are presented and thereby implies that our knowledge is framed in a way that relies on limitations rather than holism for response.

I've been feeling flashes of anger in greater frequency. Rage is putting pressure on my daily interactions without a healthy outlet. This is alien to my usual demeanor, a new signal to a brain that is generally a demure pattern of highs and lows. I can't explain why these impulses of violence have been gaining footing in my emotional terrain. My justification of passing through mental and physical transition does not fully explain the rising bile that I hide behind my face. Rather there is some mysterious, undefinable force on my psyche that leads to uncharacteristic moments of genuine hatred. 'It's not you,' I promise inside, 'but just a stressful day, or too little sleep.' I continue to smile and nod sympathetically.

But underneath the surface I am ready to punch through your skin. Not just to cause a bruise, I want to push past your bones and blood. I am grasping for any justification (or relishing in the absence of such) to turn your body into a dark smear on the wall. To quote Dead Moon (who provide enough material in their repertoire to cover any circumstance): "I'm already gone." I am turned against you and all the institutions, attitudes, and beliefs you represent. While my expression doesn't show it, I don't really care about what you have to say, because I know you don't care what I do. You are so ready to place everything into such neat boxes, to reduce all the phenomena to your preconceived ways of understanding. I am only standing here silently, listening to your complaints and sorrows, because my brain just can't react quick enough to motivate my tongue into a clever retort. As such, I am visualizing your demise and putting all my frustrations into the tense fist that you don't see. Someday this fist will be so tight, with my nails digging into the molecules that make my bones, that I will unleash it to destroy the world. Then I will relish in the visceral joy of destruction, the screams and needless pain that will soothe my fiery soul. The glass and flesh and metal will all be annihilated, reduced to their atomic blocks, to become clouds of smithereens.

I will then rearrange this dust into a more harmonious and productive reality. One that integrates all the opposing mentals into systems of reaction. The obstacles to transmission of individual meaning will be broken - all the expressions and words and images that confuse our daily communications will be removed. In this utopia we will respect each other as individuals deserving rights, regardless of social position, blood, or species. We will speak straight to eachother, without defensive or obscuring phrases. Similarly we will see straight into each other, with no deflections of appearance. The new dawn will be bright and harsh and warm after the cold that enshrouds our fanciful, mystified modernities.

We're Fucking Presidents!

2009-04-09T00:59:00.000-07:00

I recently got to sit down with one of Portland's fresh new groups...

Q: Can we start with the basics- line up, genre, name?
A: Sure thing! We are We’re Fucking Presidents and our current line up includes JFK (lead guitar), Lincoln (string base), Teddy Roosevelt (drums), one of the Harrison Brothers? , Andrew Jackson (vox and harmonica), James Garfield (theremin), McKinley (fake British accent), and occasionally Regan on the bongos. All members either have been assassinated or had an attempt on their life. As for genre, we’d say post industrial, ska punk, adult contemporary…

Q: Would you agree your group’s claim to fame is your band name? If so, please tell us more about it.
A: Well, it’s got a double meaning…naturally it came to us one day when we realized we were both Presidents and were having sex with presidents.

an action shot! Most of the band members also work at Best Buy to supplement their income.

Q: What are your inspirations- musical or non?
A: (Andrew Jackson) Personally, I’m heavily influenced by baroque and try to incorporate the jaw-harp into much of my music but as a band we’re all just one big family…were not afraid of electric either! (JFK) Personally-shmersonally, for sure cubism, Hitler as an artist, and industrial light music. Oh and we started as groupies for Spray paint for puppies so…

Q: As “up-and-coming” to the PDX music scene, what can we expect to see from you next?
A: We’re working on a MySpace page. And we’re currently recording a concept album. We originally were developing the idea of an old man making a theme park out of cloned dinosaurs…but turns out that’s already been done. Now were set to go with this idea of an alien comes down to earth, befriends a young boy and enjoys eating chocolate covered peanut treats. Oh oh and we’ve rented a van in preparation for Spray Paint for Puppies summer tour, we’re opening!

Q: Last question, why should we make it to your next show?
A: Two words, laser pointers. Don’t forget the mosh pit campfires too!

Special thanks go out to the Lewis & Clark College Forest Staff and insomnia, without the two this exclusive interview could not have been possible.

disclaimer: to hear a real band or two attend SUBURN music fest SAT APRIL 11th on the Lewis&Clark College campus!

-mh

5 Places to Get Your Drink on in PDX if You're Not 21

2009-04-08T17:39:00.001-07:00

1. House Shows -- Long the safe haven of underage fun, house shows are a great way to drink and see great bands, or get real shwasty and think you saw good bands. Places of note: Dekum Manor is great, getting all the way there is half the fun -- but don't drink in the Dekum park, or this will lead to horrible encounter with Portland's few redneck children. This is speaking from true, fact-based experiences.

2. Outside of Real Venues -- If you can't beat them, don't fucking join them. There are many great places in the surrounding neighborhoods of real venues, why pay money to see White Fang sober? The Artistery, although they're dicklers about drinking inside the venue, apparently have no qualms with you hitting the brew once you set foot on their porch. And the Hawthorne, fuck it for all of its shittiness, has a great surrounding neighborhood in which to make future non-memories. Pet the cats if you're there. Drinking doesn't have to be a hassle, explore!

3. First/Third/Every(?) Thursday -- Feel uncultured, sitting there on your bed swinging a Ribbon? Why not get tanked and look at some fucking art? The Pearl District has some great galleries to walk around and pop one open in every Thursday, and being drunk is an awesome way to look like you're totally into this woodcarving of a hand giving a thumbs up. The drunker you get, the longer you'll stare at the art piece, and the more intellectual you'll seem. If you're so drunk it's hard to hold yourself up, people will just think the art is affecting you that much.

4. On the RAZ -- Not that it's ever done, but if I were really in a pinch and couldn't stand to walk around in the cold without some liquid heat, then crack a brew on the bus on your way downtown! Don't try this on the TriMet, because everyone will want in on your drink -- riding the TriMet sober is one of the more painful experiences for Portlanders.

5. That Parking Lot in the Pearl -- Why let bourgeois lofts and snotty mid-30's couples bring you down? There's a great lot in the Pearl to hang out in and do your thing, and why not go around town and discover

SUNBURN 2009 this saturday!!!

2009-04-08T16:55:00.000-07:00

KLC Radio Presents Sunburn 2009
23 bands on two stages!
Lewis & Clark College
0615 sw palatine hill rd (in templeton student center)
FREE for LC students/ $5 for non-students
noon to midnight.
free parking!!

no car? don't wanna bike all the way to the sw hills? TAKE A FREE SHUTTLE! pick ups are at PIONEER SQUARE in front of nordstroms.
go here to get a schedule:
http://www.lclark.edu/dept/parking/shuttle.html

here's the tentative schedule:

Council Chambers:
10am--> KLC-TV film festival

Trailrooom (part 1):
12-12:30 - Snake Plissken
12:45-1:15 - Elitist
1:30-2:00 - Stag Bitten
2:15-2:45 - Maus Haus
3:00-3:30 - The Whines
3:45 - 4:15 - Blank Its

Stamm:
3:30-4 - Wampire
4:15-4:45 - White Fang
5-5:30 - Experimental Dental School
5:45-6:15 - Nurses
6:30-7:15 - AU

{short break!}

8-8:30 - The Pets
8:45-9:15 - The Intelligence
9:30-10:00 - Coconut Coolouts
10:15-11:00 - Psychedelic Horseshit
11:15-12:00 - Pierced Arrows

Trailroom (part 2):
7:30-7:50 Personifying O
7:55-8:15 Hives Inquiry Squad
8:20-8:40 Nate Larson
8:45-9:05 Henry Canyon's Empyre
9:15-10:00 Quixotic
10:10 - 11:00 Macklemore
11:10 - 12:00 Marq Spekt

better late than never.

2009-04-06T18:04:00.000-07:00

favorite acts of sxsw 2009.

harlem: this is the music that plays in my head when i feel good about fucking up my life which made it my own anthemic soundtrack to sxsw. rumor has it their lead singer coomers is a gay icon in the garage/punk scene. who knew?

ty segall: some people say the whole "one man band" thing is over played but ty's raw and fuzzy garage sound blows my mind. i was also convinced that he only wore striped shirts until fairly recently.

king tuff: who woulda thunk metal band witch's frontman kyle thomas could make such sweet psych pop gems? whenever i hear his music i have fantasies of high contrast, drug induced aimlessness. (ladies, he ain't too bad on the eyes either.)

hex dispensers: amazing punk rock from austin. their last album was recorded and mixed by mark ryan and mastered by jay reatard, need i say more?

jadakiss: i have always dreamed of marrying a rapper. instead of an engagement ring i will get a platnium grill and will forever live in the magical land of champagne and baby phat. i might also have a special affinity for jadakiss because everytime i go to the nurses office they think i have asthma (which i may add is a LIE).

Broken Glass

2009-04-05T00:17:00.000-07:00

I just got a message in a bottle.

A la Sting and the Police, Pirates of the Caribbean, and probably that movie Castaway (I'm probably the last human on earth to not be initiated I know), my friend resorted to the most chancey of communicative means. Maybe not so threatened, I found in my mailbox a cardboard tube, in which lay an old beer bottle wrapped in newspaper. Sealed with a cap of wax the label instructed in an off-tilt scrawl, " BREAK FOR WEAK VOMIT" with a crude sharpie box urging an appropriate smash zone.

Just where does one go to break a bottle?

The first place I thought of was the backyard where I sit now. The yard is practically a trash heap already, strewn with rotten camping chairs, bits of soggy cardboard, some odd tvs and computer monitors, an imploding shed, and some intrepid daisies in the corner, while malfunctioning power extensions snake through the muddy pit of a "lawn." But with my heady, bare-foot-loving roommates tromping about it seemed too likely that some wayward shard would cause bloody tracks across the murky kitchen floor. The street out front was also nixed. Though there was plenty of hopeful concrete awaiting, no one wants to be the house that puts glass in puppies paws. So I wandered down the street, with the hopes of finding a way to extract my mail.

I turned the corner and walked straight into a cop. 'Looking for parties,' I thought as I tried to absorb the bottle's silhouette into my jacket. No need to try to explain why I'm marching with such determination on a Saturday night, beer bottle gripped in hand. Around the next, I found more hopeful instruments. The pile of woody debris proved too 'thuddish,' and the cigarette post seemed fragile. Turning into a parking lot I decided to let my inhibition go as I hurled the bottle across the night sky. A resounding clunk and clatter as the post skittered along the pavement was the reply to my low toss. I chased down the still-trapped note and hurried away from apartment windows.

The next lot proved successful as I swung down on a curb, retrieved my well-earned letter and returned home.

The question in my mind as I walked was, where do we go to destroy, to make a mess? No one wants broken bottle in their home or community. No one wants to live in dangerous filth. So we deposit our trash in the proper box, put it on the curb on the appointed day and wait for it to disappear. To some other indian's home, where we don't have to see his tears. I went to a company's property to do my damage, because it seemed less real than the neighborhood of homes and children. I pushed it on an unknowable figure, a group of many without perceivable faces. It was just enough levels of abstraction, as it likely won't affect anyone I know or meet.

It seems an apt analogy to the patterns of humanity in my sleepy mind. We project our pain and filth onto distant others so we can enjoy the immediate gains. I got my letter, I got the visceral pleasure of making a mess, and I don't have to deal with the aftermath. What could be better?

~SSW

aloha

2009-04-02T13:30:00.000-07:00

On the flight back to Portland, the only music that would rise above the din of such a cramped and crowded plane was that of PARADISE. Over and over again, the Hukilau song played in my head, scrabbling my brain until I began to hallucinate Don Ho himself. And as I left the islands of Hawaii, I sung one souvenir that would be eternally mine..."Oh we're going to a hukilau. A huki-, huki-, huki-, huki-, huki, hukilau..." Now I'm certainly no Don Ho, but pretty soon I had the whole back of the pane-rows 13-24- singing along! "We throw our nets out into the sea and all the alma alma come'a swimin' to me..." Once the flight attendants added in hand movements and hulaed down the aisles, it was a real luau. Originally written by Jack Owens in 1948, the Hukilau Song became a popular hit when Hawaii's own singing sensation, Don Ho covered the track circa 1962. Ho went on to record for Reprise Records winning over many tropicals hearts with such hits as "Tinny Bubbles" and "Pearly Shells." Today many, myself included, give a big mahalo to Ho and Owens for such happy Hawaiian music.

SUNBURN IN 10 DAYS

2009-04-01T19:19:00.000-07:00

Do you know that KLC Radio is putting on their annual spring-worshipping all-day, band-packed music festival???

Saturday April 11th the mayhem descends upon liberal-arts prestige once again in the Templeton Student Center on the Lewis & Clark Campus in Portland, OR.

Just who is playing to justify your spending your weekend in the bougie SW hills you ask?

Everybody.

Really, just about, on two stages Noon to Midnight:

Pierced Arrows, MarQ Spekt, the Intelligence, Maclemore, Psychedelic Horseshit, Quixotic, Pets, AU, and a hell of a lot more.

So mark your calendars kids and check back here for updates

"this is some straight up thoreau shit"

2009-03-31T23:22:00.000-07:00

Picture an urban oasis, a meandering creek crawling cautiously through the heart of the beast, an organic pulse deep in the center of concrete and steel. Add in the usual accoutrements: graffiti, trash, beer cans, scraps of paper and the like, and you've found 'the nature spot'. Such a place was a saving grace for my compatriots and me last week at SXSW. The mind needs an escape from the barrage of people, music, corporate imagery and endless fliers from time to time, and the nature spot was our last frontier, beautiful and mystical in all the right ways. To sit at sunset with a Lonestar in one hand and a spliff in the other and reflect on the day's events, to calmly to prepare oneself for the impending shitshow of the night, to simply sit in one place for a few minutes... this luxury was something I came to appreciate more than the free food, free beer and free music that was diligently sawing away at our sanities throughout the week. And if you listened hard enough, you could almost hear the roar of cannons and the pitterpatter of gunfire, the subtle but tangible war between the elements that lay at our feet. Nature struggling to exist in a place where it was ultimately unwanted, only laid there for some sick sense of self-assuring aesthetic, as if merely a mockery of itself. The urban tentacles of the city had succeeded far into our oasis, unfolding into some awkward fringe space, but the green grass and murky water hadn't given up yet. Who was winning the battle? It was hard to tell, but it's the fight itself that gives us hope. We'll always be presented with a dialectic of this kind; be forced to comprehend a synthesis which seems more like an uncomfortable reality than a resolution. Still, as I sat cross-legged in the company of friends, the savory taste of Lonestar sliding down my throat, try as I might I couldn't suppress a smile. We might not have had found something pure, but at least we had escaped pavement for a few minutes. In a time when dirt is a precious commodity, I think we were honored to even witness a halfassed attempt to take back what once was.

-ds

health!

2009-03-31T11:44:00.001-07:00

health!
Originally uploaded by [jono]

be prepared for a flood of photos being posted to the blog.

wyatt at british breakfast

2009-03-30T15:00:00.001-07:00

wyatt at british breakfast
Originally uploaded by [jono]

what better way to celebrate our arrival in austin than eating free british food at 10 in the morning? none, if you ask me.

i'm sooooo bored.

2009-03-30T14:54:00.001-07:00

summer goth.
Originally uploaded by [jono]

Wavves was by far one of my favorite acts of SXSW. This shot is from the first of three times I saw them at the festival. While there, I was lucky enough to make a brand new friend named Devaki, who happens to be a photographer here in Portland. Also, check out this youtube video of me crowdsurfing at Wavves the last night of SXSW. (Just look for the blonde haired boy in short shorts about one minute into the clip).

-jono

Rock Beards

2009-03-15T21:18:00.000-07:00

Rock bands will come and go but the ROCK BEARD is forever. From Jerry Garcia circa 1969 to the kings of rock beardsmanship themselves, ZZ Top, nothing has said ROCK and motherfucking ROLL more than the beard. Ironically, the only un-bearded member of ZZ Top is named Frank Beard. But Frank gets cut some slack because he carries the flag for all mustachioed men of rock. Thick and voluptuous facial hair has long been a rite of passage in rock. Grow a beard and guitar shredding, nighttime sunglass wearing, and PBR bottle smashing all become wicked cool. Before the beard, they were just idiotic acts of drunken stupor. And as the chin hairs grow longer, the music gets better. To prove such a point just take a gander at the shaggy chops of TV on the Radio's Kyp Malone or even The Black Keys' Dan Auerbach. Beards make even Metallica seem rockin. If it weren't for James Hetfield's billy goat goatee, Metallica would be sold in the children's section of Walmart. Recently, the beard has infiltrated the indie and hip-hop scenes. Slowly such artists as Ben Bridwell from Band of Horses, Bon Iver's Jutin Vernon, and the Avett Brothers have crafted their own flavor savors and chinstraps. According to Rolling Stone Mag, even Kanye has gotten in on this action stating, "I took the TV on the Radio pill and ended up with a beard and glasses!" Indeed, the beard is an instant pill to music magic. The beard embodies all that is Rock. The rock beard will live on forever.

KLC TV tonight!!!

2009-03-11T12:59:00.000-07:00

Hey hey,

Did you know that KLC TV is actively subverting the hierarchies of modern reality? Come by Miller 105 tonight @ 7pm to discover what they're doing: including an extra special Rockumentary of one of our favorite bands.

Also, check these other vids by KLC's one and only Video Czar and get yerself learned:

#1 Cookery's Shepherds Pie

LC Tunnel Crawl

JJ Skateboarding

Soda Review: VITMO

Keep you eyes peeled for more showings and flicks, especially a post Spring Break mixer.

~SocSpecWrite

the world is drowning and i live by the river!

2009-03-08T21:39:00.000-07:00

If the apocalypse were upon us, I would want only to hear one thing, London Calling by The Clash. As institutions crumbled to the ground, engulfed in flame and people screamed in rioting masses, I would stand calm amongst the pandemonium, earphones in and i-pod volume up. The ice age is coming, the sun's zooming in Meltdown expected, the wheat is growing thin Engines stop running, but I have no fear Cause London is drowning and I, live by the river.

These politically charged and fearfully foretelling lyrics shook up the UK rock scene and forever earned The Clash their title GODFATHERS OF PUNK. Recorded at Wessex Studios and first released in 1979, London Calling was a testament to world turmoil and an anthem for pissed off punks. During this time, lead singer, Joe Strummer, was a self-proclaimed news junkie whose writing revealed a dark and sinister world. Arguably their most renowned track, London Calling illustrates just this. Strummer wrote of the March 1979 Three Mile Island reactor meltdown and the coming of the third World War. The track name comes from BBC’s radio station identification used during World War II. “This is London calling…” was heard as bombs dropped and civilians died. It is now heard while wicked bass guitar pounds out an SOS beat and angry punks mosh in circle pits.

Although once criticized for being too ambitious, The Clash have stood the test of time and proven to be the most fitting musicians for the end of the world. Their rebellious reggae rockabilly will continue to foretell such an apocalypse. In the meantime, you might want to prepare yourself. Listen to the following tracks: White Riot, Rock the Casbah, Janie Jones, and Spanish Bomb and horde as much vinyl as you can!

-mh

NEW ENGLAND DEATH SQUAD

2009-03-04T17:29:00.000-08:00

DOUBLEWALKER is finally here, and it’s wicked heavy. Yes, I’ll grace it with the “wicked” adverb because, like myself, FURNACE hail from New Hampshire, where we frequently use terms like “wicked pissah” and “yep bud” to describe things mildly pleasing to us. And nothing brings this band more to mind then reminiscing about cold, dirty, wood-stove-odor-filled, sweat-stained and beard heavy basement shows at Tyler’s house, where Furnace used to play more shows than I can remember (in more ways than one – “show” was sort of a loose term here). But enough about that. Their first full length has hit the streets and it’s everything I’d expect from such a unique band: spastic, fast, crushing, asymmetrical, crusty, and downright heavy. Basically, so punk.

Doublewalker finds the band experimenting more with their characteristic fast-slow change ups, weaving skull-crushing breakdowns seamlessly into the middle of a d-beat, and often refusing to be in any time signature at all. It’s better not to try to understand exactly what the hell they are doing in a song (band practices must involve a shit ton of memorization), but just to revel in the beauty of some extremely well thought out rhythms that don’t sacrifice a bass-heavy crusty sound for style. Seriously, I am so excited that this is where punk is going.

Lyrically, the band is on the right track, believing that music is medium which must serve to wake people the fuck up from the everyday prisons they put themselves into in the name of normalcy and success, as one of their older tunes explains - “The pressure’s building, we’re in over our heads/Drawing maps and diagrams/Our stories told before we’re born”. The best thing about Doublewalker, however, is the punk rock credibility it gives the band. This album has come out over a year later than when it was supposed to, and there isn’t anything more punk then being bad at being a band.

Furnace is touring Europe now and then is hitting the road around the US when they get back (my how they’ve grown up!). Bring them weed and catch a show if you aren’t too scared.

-ds

Not-So-Skeletal: Kevin Barnes, Decadence, and Decay

2009-03-03T20:23:00.000-08:00

“If we’ve got to burn out,” Kevin Barnes of Of Montreal croons in “Suffer for Fashion,” the bombastic introduction to Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? , “let’s do it together.”

Now, friends, there’s no use in beating around the bush. We are definitely, definitely in the midst of an Apocalypse, albeit a rather slow and sometimes dull one. It is definitely the case that the world is passing into decay, but keeping the decay of society in the forefront of our collective mind is what will allow us to recognize that there is so much newness and absolute, infinite possibility on the other end. So, if you’re like me and my greatest pals, you’ll just start dancing around the rim of the abyss.

That said, this is a radio-affiliated blog, and my spiritual affiliations are definitely of the sonic persuasion as well. Accordingly, you’re right to be shouting at me, as I exist in your computer: “who will be the central musical prophet that will celebrate this decay, as an emergence of new and grander life?” My answer is, of course, Kevin Barnes.

In Skeletal Lamping, Barnes’s recent-ish follow-up to the PoMo rock opera that was Hissing Fauna, we find him thinking Psychoanalytic theory, dealing out some heavy Freudianism in “Plastis Wafers” (“I confess to really being quite charmed by your feminine affects/ You’re the only one with whom I would role-play Oedipus Rex”) while also taking swipes at the intellectual establishment in admittedly heavy-handed tracks like “Women’s Studies Victims” (“Can't you see I've got some text reconstruction?/(What does that mean?)/No clue/It must be an illicit pentagram/(What are you talking about?)/No clue”). There is a beautiful relevance to this kind of philosophizing. It recognizes several things which need to be recognized about society, in order to allow us to understand ourselves as passing away and beyond something. If ole KB is channeling philosophy in a way that oscillates between faithful sincerity and critical scrutiny, he’s picking up on the same wavelength as folks like Derrida, Lacan and Žižek. And the thoughts I’ve had while pondering those kinds of intellectual celebs are: 1) that we’re in constant throes with the attempt to confront the Other and make sense of its otherness, and 2) that our subconscious is one busy bee, particularly in the realm of sexuality – as Barnes himself says, “it’s easily pervertable.”

We’re always grappling with what’s foreign, particularly the way that the foreign can be so darn bound up in us, that it’s hard to know how to see it at all. The darkness confronts the light, melancholy confronts bliss (Thanks John Keats for pointing me to that one!), but it confronts it like a disembodied hand confronts its one-time owner. It is insistent. So, here’s a kick-shuffle-change for the standard idea of the Apocalypse:

Decadence (by which I mean luxury, excess, the space over and above comfort) confronts decay (by which I mean a gradual death, a deterioration, a loss). And it confronts it like an old lover who remembers former intimacies like a forbidden secret. If the Apocalypse is decay (which, all 2012/Mayan/hoodoo/Second Coming of Christ sorts of musings very far aside, is sort of how things seem to be shaping up – just read the news), then we need to meet it with this forbidden secret in mind. We need to get intimate with decay, by embodying decadence – its Other and thus its missing piece.

If there’s anybody who’s lucidly tapped into this idea in music, it’s Kevin Barnes. This explains why his lavish glam rock sound isn’t merely a Bowie throwback, and it definitely explains the over-the-top performance art indulgences of his latest live shows. KB wearing a giant lobster arm? KB getting a foot massage from a nun in fishnets (this is where sexual decadence comes in – the conscious mind finally confronting the oh-so-freaky subconscious!)? KB being crucified? Then, KB being reborn in a sequin jacket, neon-pink briefs, and sporting a ghetto blaster? Yep, this is a man who knows how the apocalypse is best handled. I recall him covering “Smells Like Teen Spirit” as an encore when I caught him on his last tour. I realized clearly that he’s set himself up as the Kurt Cobain of the 21st century. In the ‘90s, a time of utter affluence and comfort in American society, Kurt pointed to the underbelly with angst and an acceptance of futility. It’s just that what we need now is glitter, not grunge, to get where we will need to have been gotten when all of this capsizes and transforms into something new.

Knowledge of decadence is something that is essential for all of us to attempt. It’s a head start to reaching the beyond: recognize and revel in the end, and thus be best equipped for the new beginning.

fml

2009-03-02T11:44:00.000-08:00

I think about the impending apocalypse so much that I honestly don't know where to start right now. Ask any of my friends: at any mention of the environment, politics, disease, religion, innocent and fluffy lap dogs -- all of it inevitably and effortlessly directs me to my topic of choice, the end of the world. How will the world end? With a bang? A whimper? Jesus? Muhammad? Quetzalcoatl and Muhammad teaming up to really fairly judge everyone, maybe with Kali around to act as tiebreaker? Maybe with no one around. Maybe just with a lot of chaos and a lot of Avian bird flu and my lovely brick house in Maine that's so close to the Atlantic -- well, that will be underwater.

I'm alternately drawn to and depressed by optimistic apocalyptic theories. Depressed because I'm more of a pessimist (or at least a very well-disguised optimist), and so I hate to see people pathetically get there hopes up when, yeah, there will be fire and brimstone and shit. No happiness. But, well, just in case a few humans are destined to survive… I am prepared, you know! Not well-prepared, by any means… I smoke too many cigarettes, I can't do a single push-up (yes, not a single push-up), once I almost tried shooting a gun until I chickened out and decided not to, and, even though I go to Lewis & Clark, I'd take a hot shower and comfy bed over a camping trip any day. But I have this friend, see. He is not only a wilderness survival expert in a really non-crazy-person way, but he's also a genius. (Like, really the smartest kid I know.) And I've already let him know that I'm planning on us spending winter break '12 together, and he's down to take me under his wing when we're forced to fight for survival following whatever shit's inevitably going to go down on December 21st. And if it's not winter break '12, well, I'll still be trying to stay within a day's journey by foot from him until we've got reversed global warming (lawls), have miraculously orchestrated a nuclear-free Earth (ditto), have gotten this crazy world population growth under control (…ditto. Goddammit), etc, etc, and… Until they realize what a stupid fucking idea the Large Hadron Collider is and agree to destroy it. (Scientific advancement… What the fuck. Maybe there was supposed to be some mystery in life.)

new in town: Mississippi Studios

2009-03-02T01:25:00.002-08:00

Hey kids, get your fake IDs ready because there's a new venue in town! Despite their ridiculous and uncouth 21+ policy, it seems to be worth some investigative effort. Newly renovated with a seating capacity of 150 and a standing capacity of 250 (apparently you can fit in nearly 50% more people if everyone just stands up, a pretty nifty party trick), Mississippi Studios' grand reopening celebration takes place on Wednesday, March 4, at 3939 N Mississippi (7 pm to midnight, free). Bands will include Weinland, Rebecca Gates, Pete Krebs, the Dimes, James Low, Chris Robley, Stephanie Schneiderman, Lewi Longmire, and Portland Cello Project. To find out more visit MississippiStudious and if you're not as broke as I am and can afford a ticket (about $15) visit their BoxOffice.

-mh

Heads Up, Guys: Asher Roth is Fucking Stupid

2009-03-01T21:02:00.000-08:00

Unless you live under a carefully coordinated pile of rocks, or respect yourself (or something), chances are you've heard Asher Roth's hot new single, "I Love College." (and if you haven't heard it, you can make a surprisingly accurate estimate of what it's like just from the title) Well, on his personal website, I shit you not, The Daily Kush, Asher goes to describe how his suburban white self was introduced to the funky-but-not-too-fresh world of good old Hip Hop! He details hearing Jay Z's "Hard Knock's Life" in his friend's white Subaru, the Car Where Fresh and Innovative Ideas Go to Die. I think if Jay Z knew his music would inspire Asher Roth to explore the world of hip hop, he would have taken up finger painting, or rhythmic gymnastics instead. But no, dammit, we get to thank Asher's beloved Hova for unleashing the shit-awfulness that is "I Love College."

In his video, produced by the site that has won multiple Pulitzer prizes for being The Least Credible Website Ever, Holy Shit, www.HipHopOfficial.com, he drops an anecdote about how his family presented him with a framed copy of his mixtape and the cover of XXL featuring him for Christmas. Right before hey did their pre-Yule Turkey keg stands, and right after Asher's sister blacked out and accidentally tried to unzip Grandpa Roth's pants. Well, Asher, at least your family fucking likes you.

Mac Pogue

P.S. If you watch this video and don't immediately start crying blood, you have questionable ethics.

dumb fucks

2009-02-26T20:41:00.000-08:00

HERE’S an idea: let’s make Lewis & Clark even more of a cookie cutter fairy tale summer camp than it already is! Yeah! I know how! Let’s ban smoking! IN THE FUCKING OUTDOORS! That way we can make this bubble that we live in even MORE sterile and stale than it already is! Who cares about decency? Who cares about cooperation or compromise? Hell, who cares about giving someone a five foot fucking radius of peace and quiet? In this world we live in, we need to be as ruthless as we are ignorant. Let’s attack people who have made a personal choice in stead of getting at real issues. Sure, the oil companies that make the gas that powers my car and the electronics plants that make my iPods pollute the air I breath WAY more than a cigarette, but complaining about that would take way too much effort on my part. I say we attack those evil, less-intelligent-than-we-are smokers on our campus that have the audacity to walk to class while burning tobacco. I mean, do you know how DISGUSTING it is having to smell cigarette smoke as I walk from class to the library? I mean, who do these people think they are, exercising personal choices that may or may not slightly affect me out in the free air? Where’s the justice? Besides, I already know from reading so many articles in the PIO LOG how smokers are actually STUPIDER than people who don’t smoke. Don’t you think that it’s just a BURDEN for our school, filled with young bright minds, to allow these fuck-ups to negate all the smart things they’ve ever learned by SMOKING??!!! And I mean, GOD, it’s just such a fucking tragedy that cigarette butts get left on the ground and POISON our aesthetically hard-on inducing campus. I just want to walk to the BON after class without one fucking thing bothering me and sit down and have a nice glass of COCA-COLA with my lunch. I mean, fuck, it’s not like they’ve ever polluted anything, RIGHT? Fellow LCers, there is no time to loose! Let’s highjack the spotlight and divert attention from real pressing issues! To all you smokers out there: you’d better watch your back, because there’s a new boss in town and we’re not letting any of you unfortunate fucks smoke another cigarette when we’re around! No way josé, we’re coming for you! Don’t worry, we’re just looking out for you – all that we ask is to let us make YOUR personal choices for you. Trust me, IT’S FOR YOUR OWN GOOD.

-ds

Andrew Bird at the Roseland 2/21/09

2009-02-23T02:18:00.001-08:00

Within the first two minutes of Andrew Bird's performance at the Roseland Theater, I decided that watching him cue his looping pedals and pluck his violin strings was like watching a tiny rare bird do an exotic and intricate dance. Bird, delicate in manner but audacious in creativity, shuffled about stuffed animals and spinning phonograph horns in striped, hole-infested socks. He dashed between three different mics, whistling a whirlwind of spectacular sounds. Accompanying him for the evening was a full band comprised of equally as visually eccentric musicians as Martin Dosh, Mike Lewis, and Jeremy Ylvisaker.
Even though Bird’s performance was captivating to watch, I frequently closed my eyes just to listen. This was the first concert I attended where so much was happening aurally that all I could do was think about the sound. I stood listening, mouth agape, not even able to sing the words to my favorite songs. Little audience eye contact was made and even less filler banter was said, but still you felt so deeply and emotionally connected to Bird. The night’s set list was a comprehensive showcase of Bird’s creative talent. My favorite piece preformed live was “Not a Robot, But a Ghost” off Bird’s latest release Nobel Beast. The energy during this song was elevating and uplifting. To see Martin Dosh kick drum kick drum and Bird strum strum together was quite a sight. One of the most intriguing aspects of an Andrew Bird concert is that considerable improvising on songs makes for a show that will keep you on your toes. Finally, the crowd’s roaring din dimmed and a single spotlight illuminated Bird as he sung a suave encore of “Why?” from his Bowl of Fire days.

Now I would have been content seeing this performance standing in a dumpster among a herd of screaming babies but this certainly was not the case. The venue was pristine and the crowd was cordial. The Roseland Theater’s layout evokes the warmth of a small venue while holding the power of the masses. No matter where you stand in the Roseland, you are sure to have a great view and a sensational audio experience. The icing on the cake though was the opening band, Loney, Dear. Hailing from Sweden, this indie pop group gave Bird a run for his money. They were light and entertaining, I even bought one of their albums after the show and this is bold for a penniless college student. The whole night was well worth the pennies I scrounged together. And I would advise you to start digging into your pockets too and see Andrew Bird live. For more tour dates and information on Andrew Bird and Lonely, Dear visit: AndrewBirdTour LoneyDear

-monique halgat

The end of the world in an era of eco-pocolypse

2009-02-22T15:03:00.000-08:00

I have a confession: I am hyper-excited for 2012 to come out. I was cued-into the movie’s trailer this last November and have been hooked like a floundering steelhead ever since. However, in many ways I doubt the actual film could ever match the cinematic mastery in the preview. [a la Brick, this short is a wonder of mood, color, and text] I mean, you know that there’s going to be some narrative arc with a hero rising-up in the gaping, doom-void to lead the remaining world into a new realm of ecological understanding, racial harmony, social re-structuring, blah blah blah. Even worse, this could all be some conspiracy by the telecommunication super-powers or ALIENS, where there would be an actual bad-guy to fight. Forget that, I can’t be bothered by this crap. I want to see the world end.

I want to see oceans swallowing Tokyo, a meteor-shower decimating London, a chasm swallowing the pyramids, and an electrical storm torching the world's oil field. I want this, because in more ways than one I want a good laugh. You’ve all heard about the Litany right? A never-ending list of enviro-disasters and pending eco-crises that are each sure to be the point-of-no-return, the feedback trigger-er, the collapse of carrying capacity that will throw us all down a slimy path of ecological/economical/social devastation and increased suffering. I’ve been swallowing, dreaming, and brewing with this list for too long. I’ve harped on my peers, I’ve lost social functionality, and it can be hard to sleep at night. I’m no saint or prophet mind you, just concerned and seeing no real promise in the proposed adaptive or “sustainable” solutions being offered. No stimulus package, no green-design, nor any UN Program is going to make serious change. None of them is going to redistribute goods and opportunities on a global scale. None is going to stop the pain and destruction that are implied in any industrial/capital system that relies on a constant flow of resources from the marginal peripheries to civilized centers. The worst part is that these crises will not be realized as such, without an appropriately significant response to reanalyze priorities. Rather it will all gradually worsen, with the people lowest down receiving the worse treatment, and we’ll talk comfortably about adaptation.

So how does one deal with a loss of hope? I’d recommend some dark coffee and filter-less luckies, and to start thrashing to crust punk. The best remedy I can imagine is to stare doom right in the face. Thus 2012 is so exciting (as well as Sony’s viral advert: the Institute of Human Continuity), along with terror-inducing, black-hole-causing Large Hadron Colliders. How can you not laugh at the potential destruction of life and Earth, when it would so neatly dodge the real issues plaguing our psyches?

Lurv, Evan

P.S. Images care of
www.hermes-press.com/societal_apocalypse.htm;
Ed Burtynsky "Shipbreaking"

!Kaboogie yo face

2009-02-20T11:25:00.000-08:00

If you were curious as to where to find Dublin's finest in dubstep/ragga/jungle/breakcore, never fear, I have located it for you. And just in case no one has yet become aware of my motives (oh, probably not. And I probably shouldn't be so blatant as to state them outright, anyway, so--), just in case no one has yet to become aware of my motives… Y'all is some sucka (MCs). In any case, I just downoaded myself a lovely little ZIP file of Vol. 2 of !Kaboogie's Label Sampler. !Kaboogie is, of course, the indecipherable name of the premier label of the oft-sought supergenre, Dublin dubstep/ragga/… God, I just can't believe it took me so long to find them!

Just because sarcasm sometimes doesn't have that same characteristic driiiip when filtered through cyberspace, um, no, I haven't been seeking out !Kaboogie for ages. But having stumbled upon it -- I'm a little excited. Not as excited as I was when my mom sent me badass boots for my birthday, not even as excited, maybe, as when they serve macaroni and cheese at the Bon (please soon please). But I'm giving this Vol. 2 mix a listen right now, and I'm kind of digging it. You can get it here. As a starting point(s?), "Stringaling," "Fuckem Up," and "See The Light" are all pretty siq.

M.I.A. + Lil' Wayne = life, complete.

2009-02-19T14:35:00.000-08:00

Sorry -- I know I just wrote about Street Tape like, two seconds ago, but I'm just so incredibly excited because a new mixtape was posted and not only does it include some Animal Collective and a cover of "Sexual Healing" by Hot Chip, but this playlist features… A remix of "Paper Planes" by LIL' WAYNE! OMG OMG. And despite all the goddamn haters in the world, what could be catchier than the anthem of the year (come on -- it was one of them) remixed by Lil' Wayne who, if I were better at arguing, I would defend to my last breath. For very few concrete reasons but, what the fuck, people believe in God without concrete reasoning backing them up. It all comes down to faith and self-deception. So if you're as irrational as me and you love a good dance party as much as me: YOOOO.

V-day left you scorning?

2009-02-17T16:40:00.000-08:00

V-day left you scorning? Well, you could keep googling pick-up lines to mend your bitter black heart. Let's make like a fabric softener and snuggle, Did you fart? Because you blew me away, Do you have a Band aid? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you. OR you could try something more creative and genuine. I suggest swapping i-pods (that's if you trust that your shit won't be stolen) or playing 20 questions "guess my favorite song/band" addition. These tactics would sure pan out better than, Hi, I'm Mr. Right. Someone said you were looking for me.

photo of Banksy

-monique halgat

Andrew Bird- Noble Beast (2009)

2009-02-17T15:56:00.000-08:00

Andrew Bird's latest release Noble Beast on Fat Possum records is just the ammunition needed to make the ordinary enchanted. With Bird's penetrative pizzicato, wicked whistling, and clever couplets, listening becomes a majestic voyage. Folding laundry or walking to work become fairy tale adventures when lost in Bird's latest creation. Word play and syllable stammering are most impressive on this album. Cleverly, Bird uses a palindrome for the opening track title, "Oh No" and the last, "On Ho" together they read OHNONHO. Why such a quixotic and creative move? That answer surely lies only in the brain of Bird, walled in by his genuineness accompanied by the rest of his reasoning behind song meanings and compositions. Bird brings back the electricity of collaboration with multi-instrumentalist, Martin Dosh on "Not a Robot, but a Ghost" (my personal favorite track). And die-hard Bird fans will be pleased with the meticulous and melodic bonus album, Useless Creatures, full of instrumentation galore. If such listeners still hunger for more, they can see Bird strut his stuff live at Portland's own Roseland Theater this Saturday February 21st. His performance is sure to be powerful enough to sooth a beast in and of itself.

rating: 7.5
track picks: "Oh No" "Not a Robot but a Ghost" "Anonanimal"

for Quentin Compson III

2009-02-17T13:41:00.000-08:00

TIME is was and was was then but now it's here and then it was gone. But then it doesn't even matter to anyone but ourselves, and still then it's a futile attempt to flee it, better left right where it was before we decided to meddle with it. And you never understood that. Pulling that weight on your back without even thinking about letting go, preserving your so called honor in eternity. But your honor wasn't honor, it was isolated security, belonging to no one, it was impossible conquest. Reducto absurdum, I think your father called it. I wish you had listened to him. Time was better left alone. No one not even you could touch it, wrap it up, look at it, put it in a box and simply understand. Suffering, I'm sure you thought. Endless suffering on a silver piece screaming its unrelenting tick in your ear and you, trying to conjure up a tragedy, like writing your life away and forgetting its just ink on paper. And goddammit if you weren't pretty convincing. For there was a time when I would lie on my back in the sun in the summer and think of august and that place I'd never been and think to myself that I knew how you felt and that I had found a friend. But you are not my friend. Because now I think I did know you then, know how you felt and what you were going to do and don't lie to me you knew you'd do it ever since you took a step outside of your house and felt that fiery sun beat down upon your back, burning without mercy without understanding without even feeling. Dice loaded against you, that's what your father said. You should have listened to him, like I did. I know then and now and yesterday and tomorrow and I know struggle and I know what comes after that, I know time and I am free from you, free to wander helplessly in all my jubilee and despair. and it's living. What you did, that was agony, agony and you loved it. That's what you could never say. Because every man eventually lays down and cant get back up, feels the weight upon his chest feels his bones slowly bending breaking cracking feels his heart struggling to beat against it all and every man takes a sick sense of satisfaction in his own condition however personal it may be it's a right of passage a pulse a reminder of who we are we are not above anything at all and it wasn't just you that's what you could never understand because it was never just you it never had been and it never will its every man its us all because to suffer is to walk and to walk is to

you killed yourself, you escaped time, you called it honorable but i know you i know what you were and i will never do what you did not even mentally. you killed yourself and called it honorable but i know you

-ds

from the streets

2009-02-17T01:51:00.000-08:00

europe, music, fauxhawks -- roll these concepts around in your head for a moment and perhaps you'd come up with something mentally akin to street tease's street tape. from the land of justice, france (just for fun, make that a double entendre in your head. think of the people you could anger with this statement, if out of context), comes an everything-hipster website that features techno-heavy, remix-heavy, pimpin'-heavy playlists.

and why are these playlists so sweet? well, who hasn't been searching for fucking EVER for a french bonde do rôle? okay, sure.. maybe you haven't either, but regardless -- y'all should check "bitch of the bitches" (kanthos playlist) by les corps mince de françoise. this song occasionally tastes a little bit like toni basil's "hey mickey," too. hmmm. or how about givin' an aural gander to "spliff dub" by zomby (humanleft playlist). it's been remixed by rustie into a kind of funky, kind of annoying breakbeat-style remix. mmhm -- kind of annoying. but it's called "spliff dub." enough of a reason to give it a listen, ja? another playlist highlight: well, I love "heartbeats" remixes of all shapes and sizes, and there's a josé gonzalez cover of this song on tape #5. cool rad awesome! top playlist overall? quite a tough one. tape list #5 happens to also contain a three 6 mafia remix, making it a top contender in my book, but the whole tape #4 playlist is also pretty siq: lykke li, the pharcyde, some ladyhawke and justice remixes, a bit of lazy & snotty-sounding french rapping from surkin.. etc. really, when it comes down to it, each street tape playlist -- nay, the entire street tease site -- really is super chouette (for the non-francophones among us, this means "super owl" -- though in the context it would be correctly translated as "super cool"), so pop some mollie (optional) anddd chekkkit!

love
hannah

ps:
grace à street tease: http://www.pinkcoyote.net/creativegrooming.html

The First Time I Got High,...

2009-02-16T22:42:00.000-08:00

...I listened to “Two States” from Pavement’s first album, Slanted and Enchanted.

It’s not the best song on the album, it’s not necessarily the worst (what is the worst song on the album? On viewing the tracklist, “Jackals…” is the only one I openly do not adore, so I guess that’s a candidate), but somehow I find it fitting that the first time I got high I listened to that song. I don’t really smoke pot that much as I used to (relative to my younger self, that is), and pot didn’t turn me on to any music that I didn’t like (although I did think that Zion I was good once when I was high. I’ve felt a certain sense of betrayal ever since), I just like pot a lot and I like Pavement a lot, and I find that fitting.

And, shit, Steve and Spiral sound like they’re high when they’re playing on this track. This was pre-full band Pavement, just Malkmus, Kannberg and the inimitable Gary Young fucking around in Louder Than You Think in Stockton. Rumor has it that if you go to the mailing address on the early Pavement singles, you’ll find the home of Kannberg’s parents, who apparently still love the attention they get after all this time.

These little things were the sorts that made my teenage self fall hopelessly in love with Pavement. Pavement was one of those bands whose real life idiosyncrasies matched their sonic ones. Malkmus’ solo on the track is so trebly and flat, yet played with such bombast and abandon and glee, there is no way he wasn’t high during the recordings. And for my newly christened high self, it was all glory. North and South!

--Mac Pogue

I'm So Morning Teleportated.

2009-02-14T20:57:00.000-08:00

I spend a lot of time being wide-eyed and starry while roaming around the Portland music scene. Much of this has to do with the oh-so luscious opportunity that I've been provided since this summer, which is to do Booking and Publicity for Holocene, a club full of delightful people with their ears very much to the ground. I hope to keep you all abreast of some exceptional musical experiences that I've had in that lovely space...like, for example, this one:

We recently hosted the housewarming show for recent Portland-via-Austin transplants and ultra-hyped rockers Morning Teleportation. My first instinct, being thoroughly assimilated into the Northwest aesthetic, was to resist. Resist, commence apathy, be thoroughly unimpressed. After all, these boys look like they came out of a cereal box - they look, in the context of our comfortably careless city, TOO good. Quite literally too good - hairdos perfected in their shagginess, jeans tighter than tight on legs longer than long, undeniably attractive in the most seamless of ways - and they're standing in front of some seriously slick gear. Perhaps weighing heaviest on my mind is that they've received the Isaac Brock seal of approval, which means I have to hope that the resonance of their sound outweighs the grandness of their connections.

Yet gloriously, I had a serious paradigm shift when those boys started up their very particular, fantastic breed of ruckus. Morning Teleportation create sprawling, complex rock'n'roll which has enough of a hint of Moon-and-Antartica-era Modest Mouse to explain Brock's drooling, but definitely nowhere near enough of it to write them off as derivative. In actuality, their music is almost impossible to pin down - there's nostalgic, ambient psych in songs like "Crystalline," yet there's also chicken-fried garage-fuck meanderings like "Banjo Disco". Best of all, in a town like Portland that spends a whole lot of time not having a whole lot of fun, this band is funky. And I mean funky. All right, so I love jumping at a chance to use a word like effluvium, but it's honestly a perfect choice here - this band was emitting a musical effluvium. They had their mojo working, as Manfred Mann would say. And their mojo sure did work on me. Their look, coupled with the well-earned youthful vigor that probably comes with the realization that you and your friends are on the verge of stardom and are having a great fucking time doing it, was somehow turning Holocene into an arena. It definitely wasn't hard to imagine a slew of teenage girls clawing each other's eyes out at the Crystal Ballroom to get to a used towel from one of these dudes. That thought alone is refreshing in the Portland scene - we have rockers now?! We can fill that secret Strokes-shaped hole in our heart?! Yet what is most refreshing of all is how very UN-shallow the musical product actually is. People are, and will continue to be, going nuts for this band. And beyond the finesse of the facade, they'll do it because Morning Teleportation create some of the most intriguing and masterful rock I've heard in a while.

Don't play with my style, I might sting ya

2009-02-14T12:59:00.001-08:00

I'm really excited that Pendulum is coming to Portland. Does anyone fucking listen to Pendulum? Does anyone listen to drum n bass? Who knows what drum n bass is? Get your act together, guys. This show is going to be rad. Nah, okay, people who actually bother to read this blog probably are at least vaguely familiar with drum n bass. But my favorite response from people when I ask them if they like drum n bass is, "Oh, I've never heard of them." It's a lot funnier to me than other cliché responses to certain trains of conversation (ie, "Your name's Hannah? Same backwards and forwards! Did you know that's called a palindrome?" ..... Seriously? Do I look like I didn't get past third grade? Actually, I probably knew that in like, first grade. Suckas. Okay, but what's worse than the palindrome thing is the Hannah Montana thing).

So! For those of you who do – and also for those of you don't – know about drum n bass, my point is this: you should consider this concert. March 8, Roseland. Listen to some of their music on youtube or, even better, SEEQPOD.com. That website, just a heads up, is also really good for listening to all the bad rap songs you've never gotten around to downloading but really wish you could listen to that one (every) time you're drunk. Could just be me. But Wyclef, "Sweetest Girl"? All the Lil' Wayne you could ever want? "Southern Hospitality"? But I digress. In any case, skip the hip hop for the moment and listen to, say, "Through the Loop," by Pendulum. After the fucked, distorted (Willy Wonka!) vocals comes in the heavy.. drums and bass. And if (when) it sounds shitty on your weak MacBook speakers, just remember that drum n bass is meant for gargantuan speakers that will force every heavy beat through the fibers of your convulsing muscles.. Oh, I'm getting carried away by the fucking romance of it.

Love
Hannah

A Hot Topic: If I was Goth

2009-02-12T21:57:00.000-08:00

the death of a rose.

I wish I were goth. Fuck this colorful life I live. These days, everybody wants to be a vampire. And I say, why not me? My skin is almost see-through this winter so why can’t I be the next Wiccan black sorcerer? Why aren’t more people goth? When I become fully goth, I want to be one of those Japanese slut goths- none of this pussy white people goth shit. Go Harajuku or go home. But first I’ll start from square one. The first thing I will do is finish every single Twilight book. After I have juxtaposed and pasted Robert Pattinson’s face over my notebooks, I will cut my hair into some sort of festive Pokemon hairstyle, all choppy and jagged. I will apply a thick layer of white powder to my transparent face. I will apply black lipstick leftover from my Halloween costume from 2nd-5th grade- I was a witch. Then I will buy some butterfly wings and spray paint them black. I will wear those along with an Emily Strange t-shirt adorned with a graphic of a girl named Emily Strange and a black cat that is also probably named Emily Strange. I will have to buy this shirt online or order it from a website called www.the-black-angel.com. I will also purchase a pair of trash bag pants with a bunch of sinister spikes, heavy mopish chains, and oversized silver studs. These pants will often get caught on everyday stuff- doorways, fire hydrants, hooks- these pants are a major pain in the ass and make me feel 20 pounds heavier, but with so many zippered cargo pockets I will throw away my Invader Zim purse and continue wearing them for their utilitarian purposes. Menial tasks such as going to the bathroom and riding my bike will become almost impossible. Perhaps I will have to invest in a catheter. I will wear long toe socks printed with small white skulls- spooky!

pioneer square zombies, not really goth-a close call.

My shoes are shiny black platform boots with Lucite spikes jutting out the heels. It takes me about ten minutes to put my shoes on every morning; I have to lace two sets of laces, zip a zipper, and then fasten four large buckles. When it gets cold, I will drape my black and purple velvet cape over my Emily Strange t-shirt. I also have the option of sliding my hands into my sheer fishnet gloves and for added warmth. I will survive the winter. For my upcoming birthday I will ask my Republican parents for Wiccan potions and Pagan wall tapestries for my dorm room. Hopefully I will also get an Alien Sex Fiend or Christian Death album. My new goth friends and I will hang out on dirty coughed-up couches at a popular pizza joint or we will sit on brass sculptures of deer and wolves near the Pioneer Square Courthouse. We will discuss Scott Dyleski, how Bauhaus is counterfeit, and the 1980’s film The Hunger. My friends have a lot of pimples, which they try and mask with piercings, black lipstick, and stretched out Thai Hill tribal earlobes. My favorite color is black, I have a tattoo of a sexy girl in a black corset inked on the nape of my neck, I own every Tim Burton movie: I am goth. But I wont be goth for long. Being goth is too fucking expensive! Just covering the goth basics is like taking a second mortgage out on a dilapidated one bedroom home next door to some kook who owns three seething rottweillers with a broken Little Tyke play structure and a crab grass army plagueing the front yard. Goths have four times the amount of accessories than normal white bread people and eventually my funds will run low- I’ll have to retire immediately from the costly gothic subculture. I’ll unlace, unbuckle, and unzip my boots, unzip, unchain, and unhook my pants, untie my cape, and wash my face and become human again. In two months, my hair will be long and brown once more and I will return to the colorful hipster vibes of Beat Happening and Black Moth Super Rainbow. I will sit at my desk cubicle covered in polaroids and Kurt Vonnegut books while fiddling with my hip lo-fi Nikon camera- my gothic past stowed tightly in a small shoebox in the depths of my closet.

Fondly, Lauren

Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion (2009)

2009-02-11T21:40:00.000-08:00

“There was a dancer who was high in a field from her movement.” So begins “In The Flowers,” the opening track on Animal Collective’s spiraling behemoth of an album, Merriweather Post Pavilion, and rarely has there been a lyric which has so accurately prefaced the sound of the entire record to follow. In the past, the group’s albums have been dominated by fearless experimentation, rejection of typical song structures, and unpredictable bursts of sound which listeners have dubbed either brilliant or unlistenable. And while Merriweather retains much of the group’s past experimentation, it is also largely a break from their typical sound: at first listen, the album sounds suspiciously like a dance record, with its sparkling (and, production-wise, immaculate-sounding) synthesizers and throbbing electronic percussion. But where most dance records are shallow and relatively straightforward, Merriweather is anything but: for every rave-like explosion or soaring chorus, there’s a slow-burning, dissonant number waiting in the wings not far behind. But, perhaps, the biggest surprise about the album is how consistent it is: where past Animal Collective albums have been largely hit-or-miss affairs, the only reason the weaker songs sound weaker here is because the peaks the band hits are Everest-sized – “In The Flowers,” (which features some of the group’s strongest lyrics to date) “My Girls,” “Summertime Clothes,” “Bluish” (which is heartstoppingly beautiful), “Lion In A Coma,” and “Brothersport” are about as close to perfect songs as a band can get, and when the only problem with the rest of the songs is they simply aren’t perfect, the result is an album the likes of which most bands only dream about making.

Rating: 9.0
Track picks: “In The Flowers,” “My Girls,” “Summertime Clothes,” “Bluish”

- Will Preston

Bruce Peninsula - A Mountain Is A Mouth (2009)

2009-02-11T21:16:00.000-08:00

Rock music just keeps getting bigger. Not simply in the epic, sweeping sounds of U2 or Godspeed You! Black Emperor, but also in the explosion of the rock band itself – for in recent years, groups whose members number in the double-digits have become almost as common as the quartet. While the sound of such groups can be, and often is, overwhelming, it allows new avenues to be opened that would formerly be available. Take the case of Bruce Peninsula, an eleven-piece ensemble from Toronto whose lineup includes, in addition to guitar, bass, and drums, an eight-member gospel choir. The choir itself rarely takes the center spotlight – though when it does, such as in the stomping “Satisfied” or the show-stopping arrangement of the traditional “Crabapples,” the result is tremendous – and more often serves to back the raspy lead vocals of Neil Haverty; however, it never fails to provide a vibrance and vigor to the music that not only feels genuine, but is all-too-absent in much modern music. The fact that the ensemble can pull off such a feat – and over the tricky time signature changes of “Steamroller” or the subdued folk swaying of “Weave Myself A Dress,” nontheless – is a testament to their versatility and creativity. With A Mountain Is A Mouth, Bruce Peninsula has crafted not only an incredibly solid album, but also the first great debut of 2009. Hey hoorah, indeed.

Rating: 9.0
Track picks: “Steamroller,” “2nd 4th World War,” “Crabapples”

- Will Preston

A.C. Newman - Get Guilty (2009)

2009-02-11T21:09:00.000-08:00

Carl Newman – the lead songwriter of the New Pornographers – is, without doubt, one of the finest songwriters of the past ten years, having churned out four excellent albums with the New Pornos and one equally strong album under his own name. Unfortunately, however, Newman breaks his track record with Get Guilty, his five-years-in-the-making followup to his 2004 solo effort. It’s not that Guilty is a bad record; rather, it’s simply an album plagued by numerous little problems, problems that join forces like an army and rise up to overwhelm the memorable aspects of the songs. The main complaint is that the record as a whole feels stiff – where earlier albums possessed an easy, infectious energy, Guilty is loaded with songs such as “There Are Ten Or Twelve” and “Thunderbolts” (the latter of which also has the distinction of being the most insipid song Newman has ever written) which lumber around with lackluster, rigid rhythms. It’s almost as if, having slowed down so successfully on Challengers, Newman has forgotten how to “rock” and is simply going through the motions. Take that and combine it with a host of other minor problems – the fact that “The Heartbreak Rides,” “Like A Hitman, Like A Dancer,” and “Submarines Of Stockholm” (which are otherwise decent numbers) all outstay their welcome by about half a minute each, or the fact that the arrangements range from forced to bombastic – and Newman’s gift for lyrics and melody are the last thing you notice. Newman has announced that he has already finished the demos for the next New Pornographers album. Here’s to hoping Get Guilty is simply the sound of the songwriter stretching his creative muscles before the victory lap.

Rating: 6.5
Track picks: “Like A Hitman, Like A Dancer,” “Prophets,” “The Palace At 4 AM”

- Will Preston

score!

2009-02-09T15:47:00.000-08:00

I have no shame in confessing that I am the friend/date that makes her party wait till the end of movie credits before leaving the theater. Mostly, if you go to a movie with me you'll end up impatiently waiting, wondering why I'm still adamantly engrossed in something fleeting, meanwhile you've got to pee and your popcorn has turned stale. Sorry, but I do this not to be all righteous and respectful but rather to listen to the music (and to finish my twizzlers, but that is beside the point). There simply is no better time to listen to a single song, slouched peacefully in your seat, watching those credits methodically roll up that spackled cinema screen and letting the projector lights flick the back of your head. The music seeps into every crevasse of the theater, coddling your sensory system like a giant bear hug. And finally, the din of theater goers rustling about concludes your audio extravaganza. Usually, I am a bit teary-eyed from the movie anyhow, so my listening experience becomes very emotional. Most recently, I saw THE BLACK BALLOON (an Australian movie about tumultuous family dynamics directed by Elissa Down) and found myself hysterically blubbering over Simon Day's brazen and comedic "Even." It was a little pathetic to be honest. Nonetheless, movies are a great way to listen to new music. I suggest catching a flick at the Portland 32nd annual International Film Festival (Feb. 5-21) and tuning into the film scores, most films have myspcae pages where you can learn all about their soundtrack and composer, you can even buy the soundtrack if so inclined, but if you're anything like me you'll just milk the rolling credit music for all it's worth.

-mh

OLD SHIT: The Clean - Anthology

2009-02-08T20:09:00.000-08:00

Who the fuck knew New Zealand had an awesome music scene. Let's face it, besides those two guys with a TV show on HBO, I bet you didn't think people in New Zealand knew what guitars were. Well the Clean do (sorta), and they are pretty darn good at it.
Anthology is a compilation of all of the band's early singles (capitalism or laziness? both!) released on the fledgling Flying Nun label in the early 80's. Kicking off things right, "Tally Ho" launches with a piercingly cute distorted organ line and shambling, distorted drums. Rumor has it (the internet told me) that no engineers in New Zealand wanted to record the band, so they just bought a 4-track and happened to record a Number Four single (in New Zealand, not on, like, normal charts).
The Clean walk a fine line. No, they tip-toe it holding bricks in each hand, while balancing spoons on their noses. Their songs would sound like every dumb 'indie' band out there, with their vaguely familiar chords & riffs and their simple, dead-on drumming, but everything is a bit more off the cuff and a bit more in your face than the simple crap you'll find being released. They holler a bit too loud and a bit too off key, in that super-happy-super-catchy-but-still-super-badass way that only the 80's could produce.

OF NOTE: In 2001 David Kilgour, guitarist of The Clean, received the New Zealand Order of Merit. Other recipients of this include Queen Elizabeth II, a queen, and Valerie Vili, an Olympic shot-putter.
ALSO OF NOTE: I found this on a New Zealand website. New Zealand has websites!

How I Caught The Blues

2009-02-04T22:05:00.000-08:00

Artist: Mississippi Joe Callicott
Album: Ain’t a Gonna Lie to You
Label: Fat Possum Records

I normally wouldn’t write about an album that we just have sitting in the Cave, given the amount of new music that I could be reviewing or ranting about. However, Mississippi Joe Callicott is probably one of the most underappreciated bluesmen ever to have lived. The man needs and deserves a gospel of some kind in order to spread his music and show everybody just how truly brilliant he was, and that task seems to have fallen to me. If I had to compare him to any other musician, I’d say he sounds like Mississippi John Hurt, and while the comparison may be apt, there’s a great deal more to him.
I found this album while I was working as the Circulation Director last year. One of the few benefits of that job was getting to know all of the CDs in our possession really, really well, and sure enough, I happened to be going through the cabinets when I found this album. At the time, I had stopped collecting and actively listening to the blues; I’d been a blues geek throughout part of high school, but from Junior year on my musical focus lay in jazz. It might have been the same day that I discovered a Furry Lewis album entitled “Fourth and Beale” and a Mississippi Fred McDowell album entitled “Mama Says I’m Crazy.” These three albums were responsible for getting me back into blues music. However, I’d heard of the both of them before; Joe Callicott was an unknown.
Joe Callicott was born in Nesbit, Mississippi in 1900 and died in 1969. He recorded two songs in 1930: the “Fare Thee Well Blues” and “Traveling Mama Blues,” along with a few songs where he played second guitar for another artist. These would be his last recorded output until 1967. He was largely unknown until George Mitchell, a musicologist interested in the unknown musicians of southern blues, approached him to record the songs heard on this album. A few songs were omitted from this album, another four were recorded at a music festival in Memphis, and seventeen were recorded for Blue Horizon. This is the sum total of Mississippi Joe Callicott’s recorded output, and it’s extraordinarily difficult to find anything besides this album.
The first track, “Frankie and Albert,” hypnotized me. “Frankie and Albert” is a standard which has been covered by blues and jazz musicians, including Mississippi John Hurt, Duke Ellington, and Jimmie Rodgers, so I was familiar with the song. His guitar playing caught my attention because it didn’t sound like any blues I had listened to before, apart from John Hurt. His singing, however, what was truly caught my attention. Simply put, Joe Callicott is one of the best singers blues music has ever produced. His singing is nothing like other bluesmen; he’s not powerful like Muddy Waters, haunting like Skip James or edgy like Howling Wolf. His voice is smooth and “silky,” to steal a friend’s description, and has an incredible range, going from a high falsetto to a baritone effortlessly. Age did not weaken his voice but rather gave it more character. Callicott’s guitar melodies are not particularly complicated; his guitar playing slowed down and became less advanced as he grew older. However, the melodies are beautiful and work perfectly in conjunction with his singing.
The rest of the album is as good as the opening track and in some cases is better. “Laughing to Keep from Crying” and “Fare Thee Well Blues” are beautiful and sad, “Down to the River Jordan” is peaceful, and the “Good Time Blues” makes you lonesome. Ry Cooder covered “France Chance,” and Callicott does a beautiful rendition of it here. “Roll and Tumble” is one of those songs that everybody has covered, and every performer tries to put their own stamp on it. Callicott’s lyrics are different from every other version out there, and it works perfectly. The songs are firmly in a Mississippi Country Blues tradition, and they make for great listening under just about every circumstance imaginable.
Perhaps I’ve been verbose with this review, talking too much about a musician who by any definition is old news, but Joe Callicott is simply too brilliant for me to not say something about him. The few people I’ve showed his music to have become as obsessed as I have, so something tells me that this isn’t just me. Do yourself a favor, find this album, and celebrate this man who deserves some recognition.

Zeb Larson

KLC World Music/Jazz Director

The Blood is Back!

2009-01-30T15:17:00.000-08:00

HEY HEY LCER'S

We're back with a healthy bout of words to spit your way and we want you to be on our side of the pen/exacto knife.

So come to KLC Studios Wednesday February 4th @ 4pm to come find our all the ways that you, the individual, can express your ideas, art, and dys/utopic visions with the writhing collegiate horde!

Lurv,
The Umbrella

(photo courtesy of http://www.schnews.org.uk/)

A Response

2009-01-12T15:57:00.000-08:00

Re: Music and Politics

You're thinking too big. No song has ever convinced a politician to stand up in congress, but while music may not usually play an active role, you can't deny the dialogical power of music as a form of discourse. But then again, if you think that politicians can actually create real social change, then we have bigger problems here (democracy has existed in America for 250 years, look where we are now). Reflection precedes ideas, ideas preceded action, and then action precedes reflection again. People need to shape their ideas somehow, and you can bet your ass politicians and the "main stage" players don't help (Live 8, by the way, is merely a way for disgustingly wealthy musicians to hide behind petty philanthropy to justify their own corporate activities). If you've really lost faith, come to a house show on Lombard some time. It may be dirty and smelly, but there still is an active musical culture that isn't just a shitty appendage of capitalism. -ds

"Sleepy Head (White Sirens of Burr Remix)" by Passion Pit

2008-12-15T22:21:00.000-08:00

Born in the future world, The White Sirens of Burr were sent back to modern day to begin a crusade against a future full of complacency and idol-worshipping. Emerging from a cloud of mist they streak across the night time like the frigid glow of neon that illuminates midnight diners. They will not quit or be held back. The future must be saved.

Finger on the Pulse NYC held a remix contest a while back for Passion Pit's "Sleepy Head" and none other than the White Sirens of Burr chosen as a personal best of the entries. Picked by the NO Big Deal crew as their favorite, the little Portland Electro/Metal/Healing&EasyListening group has already started down the path towards the destiny that awaits them. Complacency should prepare to be sodomized.

Sleepyhead (White Sirens Of Burr Remix).mp3 (No Big Deal fave)

Music and politics

2008-12-15T14:26:00.000-08:00

Not too long ago, a song held lots of power over the political arena. A song could inspire people to rise up and fight for what’s right. It could show the evils of government and inspire change, Bob Dylan, the Clash, Sex pistols, and so many others’s politically inspired songs enlightened the people.
At least that’s what people like to believe. In reality, these songs only reflected the already charged opinions of the people. None of these artists caused the change we saw. The riots, the injustices, and the social outrage of all the people caused the change, not the songs of a few bards.
Music does not inspire political change. I cannot think of a single time that a mass group of people’s beliefs were changed by a feel good political song. Not in any book, music based or historical. Music reflects the politics and atmosphere. I find it hard to believe that music has any mass effect on politics itself.
Don’t believe me? Well look at the music “politic” events. Live 8 could be considered a good example. Massive amounts of bands turned out to show their support for forgiving Africa’s debt. And who did they convince? I’m pretty sure that Africa is still sweating over how much it owes. The people may want it, but the music isn’t what convinced them.
I think it’s time for the music community to accept that we’re not going to create any large political change anytime soon. Or ever for that matter. If you truly want political change, try writing a book or speech. Organize a march. But singing a song isn’t going to get the big wigs prepared to change anything. Let us just accept that we reflect the political atmosphere, we do not cause any significant change.
But why? Well think about it. Most musicians are college educated Harvard grads in economics or political theory. They’re just out of high school or even drop outs. Nothing against them, but politicians aren’t going to take political advice from someone who spent their life dedicated to a guitar. The 6 string instrument, as beautiful as it is, doesn’t give much political insight.
That said, no one should stop making political songs, since they normally are filled with passion and emotions. They can be, and I believe normally are, damn good songs. So by all means write them. Just don’t get into a drum circle and talk about how awesome the songs are, and how we’re going to get change soon. Cause guess what, it isn’t going to happen, and if it does, it isn’t because of your “stellar” song.

Finals

2008-12-13T12:22:00.000-08:00

Well, its official, finals have started...fuck. Good luck to you all. and hey, if you want an oh so needed break, just remember that bad girls need love too:

"Bad Girls Need Love Too" -Toxic Avenger

Cornelius

2008-12-12T20:50:00.000-08:00

"Cornelius" by the Bloody Beetroots

CORNELIUS from borntofilm on Vimeo.

Taking a cue from my boy Dylan over at portlandplayground I feel the need to share with you this masterful video of debauchery and all around good fun from the Bloody Beetroots. Reminiscent of Justice's recent release of A Cross The Universe, this video keeps on the idea that our generation is going to make civilization swan dive straight into the shits of chaos, abuse, and all around anarchy. Oh the beauty of it all. One thing to note is that this type of shit doesn't happen in Portland, because of its non existent dance/electro scene. But do not fret good sirs and madam es, this is about to change, thanks in a large part to the aforementioned portlandplayground and its leaders, the White Sirens of Burr. So prepare to sodomize complacency and hopefully this video, and the Blood Beetroots (they are fucking amazing, check their shit out, it is mind blowing) will tide you over and prepare you for the irrevocable change that is awaiting our great city
[Nick Erickson]

oh dear, I do hope U got UR holiday sweater on!

2008-12-12T10:18:00.001-08:00

oh there is much to be said about the Portland Cello Project's Dec 5th concert, but first...
thoughts on which punk band would best adorn a holiday sweater?
a. the dead Kennedys
b. the violent femmes
c. the ramones
d. the sex pistols
e. the clash
i vote the ramones because they could have a line of ramones holiday sweaters on which each would have a different ramone {Dee Dee, Johnny, Joey, etc.} buy two get Johnny free!

Oh you, dear reader, would have been quite the stud if you had come dressed in a Johnny Rammone Holiday Sweater to Portland Cello Project's Dec 5th concert at the Aladdin. Everyone would have swooned over your festive frock. Many studs strutted their holiday sweater stuff at the PCP show for if you wore a holiday sweater you got a free ep from the merch people. the MC, Adam Shearer, even wore a Christmas-lighted sweater! The set list was just as spirited as Shearer's sparkling sweater...from a cover of "Mad World" by Tears for Fears to "Generosity" by savory local, Mirah featuring the full Flash Choir. (to see all fine music played visit PCP online) My personal favorite highlight of the evening was the audience participation. Witty and daring really! Throughout the show MC Shearer had the audience text to his phone what they would say if they really saw their mom kissing Santa Clause, then he'd red em. one text read, "mom, i don't want a Nintendo wii that bad!" but if i had to sum up the night in one statement I would second the comment from someones child who sat in front of me, "mom. mom! I see cellos, cellos everywhere!" That's right, cellos, cellos everywhere! and I would urge you to see cellos, cellos everywhere live. for more show dates and details visit PCP.

i like the disco version better, monique

Trash Talk, Cower, Death A.D., Ill Intent @ Good Neighbor Pizza 11/17

2008-12-09T11:23:00.000-08:00

I thought I was on the east coast again. In a land seemingly full of happy circle pits and straight ‘getting rad’, Good Neighbor Pizza earlier last month was full of spin kicks and windmills. Machoism was in the air, and if it wasn’t for the brutal riffs I think I might have actually left. Death A.D., though they look like they’re all batting at 17 right now, started the night with some spastic, grindy influenced hardcore. Their songs were short and fast, which is all I can ask for, but something about their stupid antics – showy ironic fingerpicking, singer collapsing on the floor, etc. – got to me after a while. The drummer was wearing an Infest shirt and the influence definitely showed, and overall it was a good set. Ill Intent played typical bro mosh and sucked. Nothing more can be said. But rest assured when Cower played they made sure that every last person’s insides were sufficiently pulverized. D-beats gave way into crushing sludge riffs and, yes, they managed to protect that age-old rule, abused so many times now by new age shitty metalcore bands: yes, if you play that line again that much slower, it will be that much heavier. Last up was Trash Talk, representing the oh so raging Sacramento California (…?). With songs lasting an average 50 seconds or less, these dudes threw down some impressive choppy thrash that wasn’t afraid to slow it down for a few seconds before launching into 10 seconds more of blazing brutality. While still bringing their own style to the table, the classic oldschool hardcore influence was hard to miss. Trash Talk came to rage and without a doubt succeeded, but their sound was just a little too clean for me. More feedback, more distortion on the bass, less attention to detail, please. By far the most impressive part of the night, however, was the fact that I made it back to the bus at Pioneer Square in 15 FUCKING MINUTES. (Dekum St. is really god damn far north). Cower is playing again soon with Autistic Youth somewhere on Alberta – come see it if you want to rage it and avoid a far too serious scene. -ds

The superiority of Vinyl

2008-12-07T21:49:00.000-08:00

Everyone loves their Ipod, Zune, or whatever MP3 player they have. They are the most beautiful creations the world has seen, and I think if mozart had seen one, he would have weeped for joy.

But theres one think about them that hurts; the loss of sound quality. It seems with every step down in size, sound quality steps down. now for those of you who disagree, ask someone in the music biz. A mp3 file loses sound quality over a wav. Its sad. theres a reason that CDs dont adopt the MP3 format. And its not because CD players won't play them either, more advanced ones will.

Which brings me onto the point. Vinyl. I love albums. Sure they can scrath. sure they can break. sure you must keep them within a certain temperture. But you know what, you can't beat thier sound quality. (btw, a album in proper condition doesn't have that background scrath people associate with records. only old, well well well played alums do.

Someone once explained to me it was basically an issue of sound waves and layering of the music, and when the music is compressed into a smaller format, that the levels are compressed to a single level, but on vinyl this never happens.

Which is why is sounds incredible. Don't believe me? well heres a test. Put on Cat stevens, any of his albums, any of his songs (I particularly like Moonshadow), on an mp3 player. Then listen to it on Vinyl. The real casual listener won't notice. The serious music efficienato, will.

Some artists (like Cat Stevens, Tom Petty, or any band who uses alot of layering) improve greatly, others really don't.

But the fact that you can get old albums for extremely cheap (like 50 cents at Everyday music) just puts the icing on the cake.

And want it on your mp3 player anyway? well you can buy a usb turntable to fix that.

Pandora Music

2008-12-07T14:07:00.001-08:00

..is one of the greatest Music inovations of our time.

For those who don't know anything about it, heres a little information. It's an online Radio station. It calls itself the Music Genome Project. Basically, what you do is when you first arrive, it asks you to name an artist or song. It then selects a similar music based on that. Pretty basic, nothing new, really.

But whats great about this is you can continue to add artists to the list. You can even exclude certain artists. You can thumbs up or down a song. If you thumbs it up, it will show up more, but it will also add more songs and artists based on that selection. If you thumbs it down, it will not come up again, and it will avoid that kind of song (unless other songs similar are thumbed up).

As a result, the more you use it, the more it will match your tastes. Not only that, you can have more than one station to have, thus allowing you to have more than one genre at a time.

The reason that all this is legal is they have carefully looked at the copyright laws and carefully sidesteps them. plus, its connected directly to amazon.com, so no one really cares.

also, you can have your own account, so it will save all your information.

check it out

pandora.com

White Fang Show

2008-12-06T15:08:00.000-08:00

Sup Dawgs?
So I was at the white fang show last night at the artistery. I will admit, I wasn't always the biggest fan of the white fang. When they played at the Holocene last summer for the pdx pop now CD release party, me and my friend opted out to go see some free titties next store at Sassy's. But back to the show last night. Deelay Ceelay, or was it Ceelay Deelay? either way was pretty good. Two drums, some prerecorded synths, very cool with the fog and video show projected behind them. Next came Mad Rad, which were okay, their beats were definitely a little more dance like then fitting for hip hop beats. Finally came white fang, right off their aborted US tour, back for some p-town lovin. Even before they started, the crowd began moshing around so that 30 seconds into their first song they had to stop because we had knocked over the drum set. They loved it, the people working at the artistery, not so much. Newly equipped with two guys to keep the crowd from rushing the tiny stage, they started again, wailing away on their assortment of instruments. The crowd ate it all up, jumping around, propelling bodies into one another, there was no lack of injury. Multiple times large sections of the crowd would loose footing and pile up onto itself. Unfortunately I had the pleasure of being under a lovely pile and succeeded in getting my knee stomped on, bruises are already starting to form. All in all, it was a great show. Tiny basement given live through the motion of so many bodies, what a sight. It solidified its success when my friend said she got punched in the eye, and was now going to finally have the black eye she has been wanting for forever. She also felt it necessary to reprimand me and my other male friends for being such pussies that we hadn't been able to punch her in the face. Well, maybe another day.
[Nick Erickson]

Pretty Cool: famous 70’s rock stars with their parents

2008-12-02T17:34:00.000-08:00

I guess rock stars are people too. I caught a glimpse of these pics and it just made me laugh. Some truly notable musicians with their parents. It is weird to imagine, and even more weird to see. Check it out here
[Nick Erickson]

Uneasy ground

2008-12-01T13:42:00.000-08:00

I haven't been going to many shows lately. Money feels thin in my wallet and the day calendar has become a mocking face, bleeding puss-like ink all over my sanity. But a few weeks ago I had a quick one-two punch of live music: namely the November 13th Dirtbombs show at Berbati's and Yeasayer at the Aladdin on the 21st. Perhaps my emotions were shaped by the order of the events, or money finagles, or that I've been listening to soviet rock anthems and Smithsonian field recording of historical Appalachian Mountain songs for the last couple months, but damn I want emotion when I go to shell out some bucks. Lets look at this comparison in Thanksgiving analogies. The Dirtbombs are the messy dark-meat, the fried giblets, the stuffing soaked with gravy, the dank piece of pie left in the back of the fridge, your uncle Joe after too much sparkling wine. They are a fever that excretes dirt and frantic power. They rock you and make respectable people want to dance like nobody's watching: sweating and shaking and beating on relatives/stage-equipment. Yeasayer, in contrast, represent that comatose state reached after stuffing your face full of everything in reach for 4 straight hours. It's that moment near death when the final swallow of pie ruptures your stomach and starts to squeeze out your pores and the gaps between tooth and gum, dimming your vision. You don't know if you're hallucinating or dreaming, and while your breath is rattling your brain is working as if permeated by an opium cloud - sporadic bursts of incrdulous electricity. Moving is practically beyond question and introspection overcomes the surrounding reality/stimulus of loved ones and speech.

Now depending on your personality, you might be predisposed as to which one of these scenarios you like best; and the question emerges whether one must choose exclusively. Both bands are obviously talented and urban and have their respective followings and scenes. Both are anthemic and push blood into a frenzy and fill your body and soul with beautiful noise. But my personal choice (and I like gorging my brain-out to a reflective stupor as much as the next Jack or maybe even more) is the former to the latter. Call me a poser of the underdog or whipping-up an idealic/delusional rocking-class Detroit background rather than embracing the indie-pastige product of Brooklyn that should be my suburban siren - but I'll take the sweat-dripping giblets over dream-headed fog anyday.

As a final check-out:
D: Crappy live recording in their hometown

Y: Crappy live recording in their hometown

Luv,
~SpecSocWrite

Travis

2008-12-01T01:38:00.000-08:00

(some leagal garbage...the copywrite to this film is owned by Independiente Limited 2007)

lovely!

Xmas sweater bonanza

2008-12-01T00:05:00.000-08:00

While home for Thanksgiving break, I rifled through my family's front hall closet and uncovered a lost gem! Buried amongst broken umbrellas, unused tennis rackets, and my stepdad's reflective jogging pancho was my beloved childhood holiday sweater, the one my mother made for me circa 1995. The finest of cotton and hippest color of red, my childhood sweater was once all the rave. It has a sewn-in white turtleneck and an iron-on cut-out of Mickey Mouse. And the best part is if you press Mickey's ear he sings "jingle-bells jingle-bells jingle-all the way"! However, now that a decade or so has passed the tune sounds more like Tom Waits took two too many sleeping pills and sang "ju-un-gle be-al-as...ju-un-gle be-al-as...ju-un-gle AAALLL th-uh waaaay." You almost expect to hear him burp after it plays. Nonetheless, to a 5 and 1/2 year old this holiday sweater was dope (and frankly, still is). Truly one of a kind. Well almost, apart from the fact that my brother had a matching green one. How, you might ask, should I remember this? because we have a Christmas portrait from 1995 perched on our fireplace mantel, in which the entirety of my family is wearing equally as dope sweaters. You should see my stepdad's, I didn't even know they made iorn-ons that big...I'm not saying he's fat he's just 6'2" and broad shouldered, and he certainly wouldn't have fit into my Mickey Mouse sweater, I should know because after I dug through that front closet I couldn't help but try the sweater on. You may be curious, did it fit? Let's just say I'm a little disillusioned that they don't make children's size smalls with larger neck openings.

Has all this talk of childhood Christmas sweaters got you nostalgic? If so, you should join me and the Portland Cello Project this Friday at the Aladdin Theater in SE Portland for an Xmas sweater bonanza. The Portland Cello project is a local, but nationally renowned, group of up to 16 indie contemporary classical cellists (one of which is an LC alumni!) they are known for getting indie kids to listen to classical music and classical junkies to venture into the world of indie rock. That's right, indie rock! They will be preforming with guests Mirah, Ritchie Young, Jenny Conlee (from the Decemberists), Justin Power, Ali Ippolito, Matt Sheehy, Shostakovich, and The Flash Choir this Friday December 5th. Expect the unexpected (bet you've never heard superMario brothers or Britney Spear Toxic on cello) and WEAR THOSE TACKY HOLIDAY SWEATERS FOR FREE MUSIC!

-mh

Check This Out (Also an article on how to give homemade tattoos)

2008-11-29T23:53:00.000-08:00

Fecal Face
First off, no, this is not some poo fetish site involving faces, or even poo for that matter. In fact, his is a really cool San Fransisco Art site/blog that features an array of cool articles and photoblogs. Ranging from Free Fridays, which have a theme and call for submissions of original art according to that theme, to interviews with really cool artists from SF and around the US and more. It was on this site that I figured out how to give homemade tattoos, and have been giving and receiving them ever since. I check out the Photo of the Day well, daily. Overall this is a really dope site that you should check out, it is on my daily rotation of sites to check, along with pitchforkmedia, well only their music news (which is first to know on all sorts of music news from touring, to releases, to the goss, and some show pics which are cool) but not their reviews because they are a bunch of music snob cunts.
Back to the point, this is a site you should check out, and for a sampler I will provide the link to one of my favorite articles:
Homemade Tattoos
(thanks Andreas Trolf for this masterpiece)
[Nick Erickson]

Best Late Night Televison Preformance Ever

2008-11-29T23:11:00.000-08:00

From Crackle: Death From Above 1979 - Romantic Rights

Do you love music? Do you love live music? Are you an asshole? If the answers are: yes, yes, and well the last one doesn't really matter much, then check out this video of Death From Above 1979 preforming on the Conan O'Brien show.
[Nick Erickson]

Getting a Little Freaky Down In P-Town

2008-11-29T23:09:00.000-08:00

For all of you who don't know, Portland is fucking awesome. That said, there are a few things that need changing. For one, we have all of these people in our great city that need to be forced to do anything, and are reluctant to go check out a show or band unless there is some hype or they are in right now. Another is the complete and utter lack of constant dance parties. Being someone who loves to get down and dance the night away, this is a complete drag, yet there's a savior on the horizon. A little coalition know as PortlandPlayground (portlandplayground.blogspot.com) has high ambitions to fill that void. Headed by members of a little upstart group know as The White Sirens of Burr (myspace.com/whitesirensofburr) are hoping to collate a collaboration of Portland musicians, artists, writers and give them a space to present their work. As of right now they are small, consisting of five members, yet their ambitions are not reflective of their size. Armed with a set of concert speakers and a wish to dance the night away, this is a force not to be reckoned with. Their goal is to oppose the complacincy we have with our current scene and hope to provide an outlet for musicians to preform in front of audiences and to give people a steady set of dance parties and shows, did I mention these shows are set in warehouses/rented storage spaces/rented moving trucks/dorms/ and any other place that they can break into and plug in. So check out this blog (they even have a link to our own) and keep watching for more news on these up and coming Portlander's
[Nick Erickson]

The Google Android

2008-11-23T22:02:00.000-08:00

Also called the G1.

This baby is a beaut. But before I go over the good things, let hit the bad.

Activating it. I got in on friday and called to activate it. Everything was go, and they told me 2 to 48 hours for activation. Every other phone Ive had and friends had was about 30 minutes, but whatever, I'm cool.

48 hours later, I call. I get transfered twice before I get to the right place. The person was really nice and patient, but it took her about 10 minutes for her to notice that they didn't update my plan at all. so once they got it updated, she transferred me to another guy, the G1 speciallist.

He talks me through a bunch of different solutions, none of which work. He even has me put my sim card in an old phone to see if the sim card is working. After about an hour of talking through, he says he'll fill out a form to get it replaced. as we start, he notices that since my plan was just changed, it couldnt of activated, and there probably wasnt anything wrong at all. if there was, we would have to wait another 24 hours to see. about an hour later my phone activated it. The best part? my father had called before and they had told him completly different information on how to activate it. T-mobile support, although nice people, could use some fixing.

Now on to the review. This thing is pretty. Its resolution is outstanding and it responds to the touch like an eager girl on ecstacy. But those features are nothing compared to the internet. IT IS FAST. Incredibly. this phone moves faster than the internet on the computer labs, or even my friends alienware. and the direct connection to youtube is pretty nice to.

another thing I feel I should add is that even though it doesn't appear to have the motion sensor thing the i-phone has, it does its not involved in the immediate menu, but it doesn't need to, since the screen will automatically adjust when you open the keyboard. The sensor is there, and so is the programing, it just needs an application for it to be used. Is it the I-phone killer? maybe. When google opens up there global information thing though, you will need one to access it.

price, 180, I think, but I know that for unlimited internet, its 25 dollars, with unlimited text 10 dollars more.

Tmobile did something good :O

Illl tell you more next week, when I get more use to the pretty thing.

WIN YEASAYER TICKETS!

2008-11-19T14:24:00.000-08:00

while you're getting over that major bangover from the doom show on thursday why not win some tickets to YEASAYER this friday? tune into Blow-Up from 2 - 3 pm PST for a chance to win!

Represent yr hip hop

2008-11-18T16:55:00.000-08:00

Back in October many of you rocked to the Blue Scholars in Stamm. Besides the Seattle natives a Portland/LC collaboration blew the stage: MC Says, MC Empyr, and MC O performing real tracks off their album "In Peace".

As well as an interview in the recent zine (if you haven't picked one up, swing by KLC in Templeton to nab a copy!), we also have video footage of the show care of your buddies at KLC TV. Check it out below:

BRONZE AGE ASSHOLES

KADJA

Mercutio WITHOUT ERROR

Keep your ear to the ground to catch other great shows approaching on the horizon.

Luv,
SpecSocWrite

Wicked Show This Thursday on Campus!

2008-11-18T16:42:00.000-08:00

Thursday November 13, 2008!

Acre, Ecomorti, John Krausbauer and Brown of Tecumseh, Taryn Tomasello and LC's own Brocaine will be playing on Thursday Nov. 20th in Council Chambers and Templeton Student Center. The show starts at 6:30. This concert is FREE, so you have no excuses to miss this. Get there and get your brain straight faded.

Anarchy in the UK,
KLC Promotions

Two stores...

2008-11-09T18:19:00.000-08:00

Everyday Music

Located about 2 blocks down from Powel's bookstore, this place is truly a Godsend. They have a massive collection of pretty much everything. It's about 3/4 the size of the bon, and filled with nothing but music.

In CD's, they've got all your normal stuff you expect, pop rock, reggae, and all that, but this place also has an expansive collection of Jazz, blues, and world. and not tiny selections either, they truly have a decent collection.

However, the best part of Everday Music is the record selection. They have tons of vinyl. Its not the best organized, but its well made up for its 5o cent bargain selection, which is really big. nor is all of it christmas music, but the who, cat stevens, grateful dead, the eagles, and tons of classic rock. The only problem is that all of it is "as is"

A really great place.

Jackpot Records.

1 block from powels in the opposite direction, Jackpot is much better organized. It's also about the size of maggie's though. And, even worse, it's really expensive. finding any vinyl below 8 dollars is impossible here, and some of them are reacing 40 dollars. as much as I like music, I can't justify myself on a 20 dollar album, unless its pretty rare.

That said, they do have some pretty rare stuff. First printing beatles and black sabbath can be found. Even some stuff that you wouldn't expect to find anywhere, Like Warren Zevon, or Flogging Molly. It may be a bit pricy but sometimes you got to shell out for the good stuff.

A nice place, but not as good as Everyday. Hit this place 2nd.

Keep murderin'

2008-11-07T15:58:00.000-08:00

Come out to NE P-town tonight for a riotous good show with some of your favorite K/LC bands! Support local music!!!

Who: Brainstorm, Cars & Trains, Ghosts & Mysteries, Hello Electric, and Silence Dogood
What: Rock'n'wastoid show
When: Friday, Nov. 7th at 8:00pm
Where: The Philosophy Mansion (3635 NE 6th AVE)
Why: Plenty of reasons that won't be posted here for fear of a government crackdown

- SpecSocWrite

A Haiku.

2008-11-05T18:50:00.000-08:00

Robert Kelly is.

I know what R. Kelly do.

He sing beautiful

J.Bren.

The Joycean Composition in R Kelly's "Sex Weed"

2008-11-05T16:45:00.000-08:00

Not since Joyce’s Ulysses has an author bestowed as much abundance and unity to his metaphors as R Kelly bestows upon the extended metaphor of his song “Sex Weed” from the third installment of his Twelve Play series, the fourth of which comes out this fall. In the “Ithaca” chapter of Ulysses Joyce presents the idea that a truly successful metaphor consists of “obverse meditations of involution increasingly less vast,” in that he replaces the essence of one thing with that of another, and vice versa, thinks about it, and then looks at things more carefully to see what it means for one thing to be, at the same time, something else. What occurs in this concept of a metaphor is that reality1 (i.e. the blood of Stephen Daedalus and Leopold Bloom) and reality2 (i.e. the universe) are described simultaneously in a single moment (“the universe of human serum constellated with red and white bodies, themselves universes of void space constellated with other bodies”), which thus makes the reality of the text (the consolidation of reality1 with reality2) an amorphous ambiguity that could be called “the protagonists’ blood” while being considered “the universe,” or the other way around or any combination of the two.

The hallucinogenic experience heavily informs this mode of thinking, and indeed Daedalus’ state in the chapter is the product of drinking a lot of absinthe and losing his grasp on typical conceptions of reality, and, in the case of Kelly, one half of the “obverse meditations of involution increasingly less vast” of “Sex Weed” is marijuana, a substance that has far more psychoactive properties than it did when it, paired with LSD, was the cornerstone of traditional psychedelic music. “Sex Weed” is not smoking weed and then having sex, nor is it having sex and then smoking weed, nor is it having sex while smoking weed, nor smoking weed while having sex—all of these, in some way, would put the two concepts in some form of hierarchy. Instead, through its Joycean word play, the metaphor succeeds in uniting the psychedelic experience with the sexual experience to the point that simply smoking pot is “Sex Weed” and romancing a lady when sober is also “Sex Weed.”

The apostrophe to the “Girl [who has] got that Sex Weed” begins as a fairly simple metaphor: he wants “to hit it all the time” because “it” is “sex so good that it gets [him] high,” using the ambiguity of the idiom “hit it” to begin the destruction of the segregation of Sex from Weed. Double entendres characterize the song as a whole, addressing the girl as “Mary Jane” at the end, for example, though the exceptions give the most interesting moments. The use of a simile seems ridiculous in the face of Kelly’s level of figurative language, yet we have two at the beginning of both verses as though we need to be reminded of the simplicity of his project: “How did yo[ur] sex make me feel this way / Like I been smokin’ purple haze?” and “Girl it’s like a dime bag of [hy]dro[ponic marijuana] / The way you movin that cush real slow.” The latter simile seems silly because “cush” is another way of saying weed, so of course it would be “like a dime bag of dro,” because it IS. But of course “cush” means something else here. The motif is reversed in the line “Sex give me the munchies / And now I wanna eat it up oh,” because “Sex” is understood to be Weed, and “the munchies” are the not to be understood to be anything other than the desire to do something explicitly sexual.

The dependence upon “Sex Weed” comes up in the second verse, that Kelly is “a bud head when it comes to [the girl with the Sex Weed] / Cuz Can't nobody drop it baby / Bounce it baby, stroke it quite the way [she does].” He wants her like a drug, yet at the same time, unlike a drug, nobody can create the effects that she does. What therefore is at stake is not the immediate physical sensation, but what, a step further down the causal line, what that sensation causes, for the a psychedelic does not take its user away from the world into the senses, but rather overwhelms its user with the world by liberating the capacities of the senses. Sex, then, is therefore is a process of instigating mind-blowing experiences in another person while they reciprocate, as symbolized by "do[ing] a shotgun." "Sex Weed" is the beginning of a greater experience that becomes the beginning of a psychological dependence—“Girl I’m addicted to everything / That you do to me / Your sex got me open baby.” “Open” can mean simply “high,” “hazy,” “silly,” “flying,” “buzzing,” or “about to explode,” as he has stated, but can also mean readiness for it to all happen again, as the singer first politely requests towards the song’s end—“Let me hit that in the coupe / Girl, let me hit that in the jeep / Girl let me hit that at the crib / Girl keep bringing me that heat”—with a kind of urgency and appreciation of an adolescent hot boxing his parents’ Camry for the first time or smooching a girl for the first time in the backseat, or both. Kelly insists on the legitiamcy and thoroughness of his metaphor, that it's too heady to pin down and explain, by descriptions of his own befuddlement in the face of his dependence on "Sex Weed," that it's "about to explode [his] brain," that it's "about to drive [him] insane," and that he's "about to go up in smoke / because [her] Sex Weed ain't no joke." One cannot ultimately put either the psychedelic nor sexual experience into words, which would be to explain these contradictions in a joke that allows us to move past it; one can merely construct a text to parallel how inexplicable it is, as Kelly has done, to make "Sex Weed" the song something that'll make the listeners go up in smoke as they listen to in the coupe, the jeep, or the crib, hitting the Sex Weed. Which only makes sense if we read the apostrophe literally as Kelly addressing us, his listening audience, describing how wonderful it is to be on his side of the listening experience, getting "blowed" by the fact that so many people understand the significance of desegregating Sex and Weed, and always wanting more.

Artist Profile: DjH2

2008-11-05T11:26:00.000-08:00

www.myspace.com/djh2
Sometime in the summer of 2007 I was stumbling around electronic artists on MySpace (yes, MySpace) and happened upon this diamond in the ruff. Straight out of Harlem, DjH2 has fat beats on par with every big name producer I have encountered. Upon hearing a few of his tracks, I set out on a desperate search to download anything and everything I could of him. Yet low and behold, he was not signed to any label, or anything of that nature. He had few mixtapes up to download, and so I took what I could get. I was amazed by the talent and quality of the tracks available for download, and amazingly enough, over a year later he is still a regular in my rotation. Any time I want to relax, or listen to some smooth beats, DjH2 is first to be put on. When posed with the task to list my top 5 chillist beats, DjH2 held the number one spot. His MySpace www.myspace.com/djh2 is regularly updated with fresh new beats, and the occasional free EP’s for download. Also to my great excitement, he has an album ElevatorMusik available for purchase, as well as two others, TalkingWalls and Poison Punch Socials, which will be available soon. So when you want some music for the soul, hit up his page and prepare to be taken on a ride.

Reminiscent of old school beats, and heavy jazz influences, H2 is one of the most talented Dj/producer/beat makers of our generation. Long overdue for big success, his intricate working of obscure (Star Trek radio show vinyl) and oldschool breakbeats and samples lets his immense talent shine. He touches down on the soul of earlier eras and creates something completely new and his own, all the while paying tribute towards those he samples from. This underground producer is one that should not be missed and is a must have in any hip-hop/soul/funk/jazz/blues aficionados music library.
[Nick Erickson]

Nightmare or utopic future?

2008-11-04T16:57:00.000-08:00

Interplanetary Revolution

Saturday October 25th, was the annual Revolution party - this year hosted at Plan B. On the bill were both of p-town's only Russkie bands: Mirumir! and Chervona; as well as Niayh and a hectic set by Golden Greats

Arriving late, one was presented with a devilish scene. The dark misty night, pierced by cries of joy or pain, was juxtaposed with a packed darkly flashing room. It was a circus. What it might have looked like if the 1917 revolution had taken place in a cramp basement with a hodgepodge of 20th century misfits getting drunk to celebrate the end of time. Explosions of glitter and melting faces, trapped between concentric loops of gyrating soviet hips, sip that 22 out of your bag because you shouldn't drink whatever these people have been. A free speech stage in the back lot, sporadic piles of bicycles and heaps of broken youth, while someone's sad mumbles of the futility of our supposedly democratic system were washed away by the chanting of the red-painted Obama youth brigade. A confusion of elements, Halloween a week too soon? Mario with sad drooping whiskers bent over a mechanical music monster, perused by Hunter Thompson in board shorts and safari cap, while a chair fight broke out over the last of the cold left-over socialist french fries. sensory overload

So swig it fast, try to ska-dance, and get the hell out of there while you've got your wits about you. Tom Waits, heckling and jeering, the Master of Events, his waxen face almost brushing the stage lights as he beats those lousy derevniks in their striped shirts. beats and beats them with his howls and curses; oh so painful - as they strike up another rollicking tune.

Back outside, lit cigarettes, and nervous shuffling. What's 5$ when you have the whole future ahead of you?

Lurve,
SpecSocWrite

FEEL THE MAGICK

2008-11-04T15:11:00.000-08:00

KLC Presents

2008-10-30T12:44:00.000-07:00

You probably shouldn't miss this. It's going to be really fun. Promise.

Have you met my father?

2008-10-28T13:34:00.000-07:00

Hey guys, I miss loafing in Conor’s basement, chugging cheap Tecate and Smokehouse and playing grand theft auto, vice city. If you don’t know shit about who Conor is, it’s cool; he’s just some guy. If you don’t know shit about who this puckered-lip pin-striped fella above is, then now’s your chance to learn. Pay attention rugrats. Karl Lagerfeld is like the place between Heaven and Hell; he’s like the austere, brawny middleman who decides your ultimate fate. He’s like the silent, tall kid who would submerge your head in the toilet while Jack the Ripper and Terrible Tommy yanked your underwear, robbed you of your sloppy joe and chocolate milk lunch money, and flushed the poop pot. Like Karl Marx, he’s a German bloke; Unlike Karl Marx, he’s a bulky socialite, not a Socialist. It’s probably just the sunglasses talking, but before I begin lecturing, remember that Karl Lagerfeld has the power to crunch some scrawny human bones.

Karl got shipped off to design school in Paris by the time his first armpit hair had sprouted. So at like fourteen years old, Karl (with a fucking “K”!) was designing fine dresses and attending sumptuous parties with le riche while you were still picking your nose and hoping to acquire that prehistoric Charizard card in the Pokemon booster pack. By age 23, Karl had gained some height and weight and created an “eau de toilette” fragrance for men, women, cats, dogs, kings, queens, and squirrels. And Jesus Christ! Are those scented bottles of piss lucrative or what! Basically after this landmark, Karl started doing well with everything in the fashion world, and then some.

Think of that landmark black and white tweed suit hanging in your grandmother’s closet amongst the nappy caribou fur death coat. Think of that squeaky quilted bucket tote with the two C’s. The two fucking interlaced Helvetica C’s. Oh! The ghastly Chinese plastic-drenched knock-offs! Karl Lagerfeld enlivened the crème de la crème, the cream of the crop, and gorilla of fashion houses: Chanel.

Chanel is to couture fashion as McDonalds is to MDC’s Corporate Deathburger. Karl’s the guy who wears the pants in the convoluted relationship between me and clothes. Sure, it’s true that McDonalds makes an 875-calorie hamburger, but I’ll still gladly eat them, and maybe I’ll even pick up a flimsy Burger King crown, In-N-Out animal fries, and one order of indigestion while I’m at it. It’s also true that I can’t resist the magnetic pull of Chanel Gambon ballet flats and the urge to pet Karl Lagerfeld’s soft, grey ponytail. I have zero self-control with my extreme diet of punk rock, fast food, and Chanel. One day, I presume, I will purge myself of these radical obsessions. Perhaps I will become a vegan who enjoys the soothe-saying melodies of cool guy Jack Johnson and the tinkling Mahavishnu Orchestra. My body will undulate with every step I take in my tye dye marimba pants and loose-knit burlap hoodie. But seriously, my real life has just begun, and if we’re really gonna try and get all hypothetical, I’m just gonna go back to Conor’s couch and pop Vice City back in to the dented Xbox and smunch warm chocochip break n’ bakes. Oh yeah, that’s cus Karl Lagerfeld has a generic avatar character in Grand Theft Auto Vice City. Look for him, the ultimate king of fashion, next time you feel like clenching a sweaty vibrating controller, getting a virtual lap dance, and then killing some cops and hoes with your loaded automatic.

Fondly, Lauren "Bobby" Fischer

$7 billion bailout

2008-10-26T17:02:00.000-07:00

Look there on the ground. Is that a dime? Shit if I’ve ever seen one. Quick pick it up. That’s worth at least 10 cents. Oh no, there’s some gum stuck to FDR’s face. Who cares, it’s a DIME! You’ll be 10 cents richer!

These hard economic times are hurting us all, and just like Sarah Palin, I am ill! I even contemplated gathering my measly possessions into a handkerchief bindle and bumming around Burnside for spare change with a sign that reads [broke college student]. Heck, I haven’t even bought a legitimate concert ticket in the month of October. GASP! But don’t panic, I may not be able to see Russia from my house, but I certainly have one sure-fire solution that’s not even on Palin’s radar.

For only a $6 buck cover you can catch one decent show at the Artistery on SE Division. Last last Friday I crowed into the basement venue for an energizing night of Tango Alpha Tango. And let’s just say that for $6 bucks I’ll pay to see someone kick their guitar (literally) again! So avoid the panhandling, defeat the second coming of the great depression, rub it in Palin’s face, and check out the Artistery (you may even have money left over to buy some Tango Alpha Tango)!

-mh

Apocalyptica, this thursday

2008-10-26T15:00:00.000-07:00

The first thing I noticed at the Apocalyptica concert was the calmness. It was very strange. For a finnish band that skates awfully close to being called full blown metal, the audience was extremely calm. No one was pushing, not one person tried to mosh (not that it was moshing music, but usually someone tries), and everyone was happy go lucky. Concidering we were watching a band who covers both Metallica and Slayer, it was a little shocking. In fact, I don't think I saw the bouncers do anything at all during the show, which a first for the Roseland.

They came on 30 minutes late. Ordinarily, this doesn't bother me at all, but this time it did. They had already had the stage fully set up when we got in (right when the doors opened). There was no opening band, so they didn't have to change anything or preprepare anything. And no roadies were running around setting things up. They wernt trying to get the band on stage quickly or anything. They were sweating us out, and that is not cool. Seriously, that pisses me off.

But I could deal. They finally got on stage, and they were fantastic. Theres something about 4 cellists and a drummer rocking out together. But like I said, the crowd was crazy at all. Everyone was dancing happily. They played extremely loudly, and it was great. They rocked pretty hard.

But not very long. They played till about 11, so around an hour and a half. Before they even got started, they were saying they were gonna play one more song.

Overall, it was a pretty good concert, but I expected alot more. I felt let down, and I think alot of other people did to. It was a wierd concert, and seriously, I feel like Apocalyptica did not deliver on their reputation.

Grant,
the-this-is-pretty-good-wait-its-over reviewer

Licking County

2008-10-20T18:18:00.000-07:00

For fall break I went to a quaint little place called Granville, Ohio to visit my girlfriend, and while it was probably one of the best weekends I’ve ever had, like ever, the east coast was a bit shocking after spending six whole weeks cooped up on Palatine Hill. At Denison University, where I spent a good portion of the break, I found few “heavy chillers,” as we might call them here at LC. Nor did I go to a “kickback” or find too many “hella legit” things going on in general. No, this school was far more rambunctious than Lewis & Clark. While we might have a “woodland creatures” themed party that ends when campus safety so much as rolls down the street, Denison is having a “barbie and ken” themed party that doesn’t end until someone pulls the fire alarm. Or while I’m standing in the keg line for twenty minutes at the woodland party, trying to get my five dollars worth of pbr, a Denison student has already had four shots of cherry vodka and on their fifth beer without reaching into their wallet yet.

The dynamic was completely foreign to me. Never have I seen a dozen pretty blonde girls walk into Maggie’s and talk for twenty minutes about how shithoused they got the night before. At Denison, this kind of thing is everywhere. Partying absolutely dominates and the kids absolutely love it. They go out on Mondays, Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays of course, and sometimes Sundays. And while “going out” at LC might mean riding bikes down to the cemetery for a beer, or having a half dozen people over to your dorm room to sing along to bob dylan, at Denison it consists of beer pong in one hall, a dance party in another, followed by anywhere from one to three frat parties, five nights a week.

So while I’ve opted for a mellower, less douchey environment than the Denison kids have, they are going to have a much better story to tell ten years from now. It’s much more impressive to hear, “In college, I partied like a National Lampoon movie” than it is to hear, “Man, I used to chill hard in college!” This is something I just didn’t think about when looking at schools. Maybe it would have been sweet to come out of college with a nickname like “slam” or with a reputation for being the kid who actually supermanned a hoe, but as for now, I’m comfortable with keeping at least a few of my brain cells and staying here at Lewis & Clark, even if it means I have to overhear lesbian sex every other night.

-Squaw

Iron and Wine (Sam Beam)

2008-10-19T15:45:00.000-07:00

[October 6, 2008 Eugene, OR McDonald Theatre] Gray Tuesdays, lying in your lover’s arms, with nothing else in the world but you and her. I will admit that this was a show that packed a large emotional punch for me. There was baggage there that surpasses any other artist or song on my iPod, all 58 GB by last count. For 6 months even hearing the soft cords or melodic voice that Sam Beam has would fill me with dread and nausea, yet not at all because of his skill. Eventually though, his songs were so great that I could eventually get past my emotional hang-ups, and move on once again to loving his music. Now instead of dread I feel the love of what once was, and what will be. Alone on stage, it was up to Sam and his lone guitar to serenade the crowd with a mountain man beard and soft beautiful voice. He was surprisingly friendly (not that he would have been mean, just that he often chatted with the crowd as one would with a friend). On his first song he messed up, forgot the cords and skipped lines, only to stop and chuckle, laughing about how one can never be perfect. It was endearing. It showed you what music really was; his art, yet it takes practice and he got warmed up. Going through his set he would talk to us, commenting on how we should be doing school work (Eugene is an university town) and all the ups and down (mostly ups really) of smoking weed, which of course we all do/did. I have never felt as close to an artist than at this show. He would talk about how lonely the road is when you are by yourself, and it was like we were his band mates for the evening. One instance in particular was very memorable. During the middle of his set a string broke. Normally this would be a thing kept in back, and a quick change of guitars would be done, and the crowd would be none the wiser, yet there was no background, only him. With no extra guitar, he tuned his to make the next song work, and asked in back for his lone guitar string in the front of his bag. Playing the song sans a string, he was still able to make it come alive. Afterwards he got the string and strung it onstage, yet never missing a beat, always talking to us, making us feel as important as artists always say we are. Finally he got it perfect and continues on. Later on though, while tuning the guitar for his next song (no spare guitars meant he had to tune for most songs) he heard a twang and feared for the string breaking. He had no guitar and said that with no extra string, well that would be terrible. Yet we all knew what would happen. Any of us would run out to our cars, grab our guitar, and hand it over gladly. At times he would stop and we would yell out songs. “Jezebel” was common (it ended up being his encore, chosen by the masses), and as he said, “There is a set list, yet nothing is ever permanent. I can always change it up.” There was the classic call for “Free bird” and instead of ignoring it as usual, Sam responded. “I might just play it, then won’t you look like a dick” and just chuckles. Playing a large part of Shepherd’s Dog and of course Our Endless Numbered Days, it was hard not to be impressed. One could have even sat down and had it all sink in. Sam has even asked for that at shows in the past, and on that night it would have been fitting. He carries a show with just the basics, guitar and vocals. It is amazing how much it can affect someone. I will admit there may have been a tear or two; I know I was not alone, because it is hard to not be hit on some level by his lyrics.
[Nick Erickson]

MSTRKRFT (with Felix Cartal, Congorock)

2008-10-19T14:38:00.000-07:00

[10-02 Seattle, WA – Showbox]
When I found out the closest show MSTRKRFT was playing on their 2008 Fists of God tour was in Seattle, I knew that I had to go. Means of transportation went from my friends car, to mine, then at 6 am day of show I found out neither were and option, and needed to resort to train, missing class and committing to an all nighter in Seattle. Every bit of it was worth it. From the sketchy dinners to the homeless crack head trying to sell us weed, it was an amazing experience. Most of all was the five-hour dance party that was the MSTRKRFT show. If you have never been to the Showbox, which is directly across from Pike’s Market, I highly recommend it.
We had the dance party shocked into life by the musical talents of Felix Cartal and Congorock. Although I had never heard of either, both were very good and got all the foreplay with the crowd out of the way so that when MSTRKRFT took the stage, all hell broke loose. Bringing down the curtain, a monolith of screens emerged. On them were elaborate video to mesh with the fantastic mixing of JFK (Jesse F Keeler former bassist of the late great Death From Above 1979; he gave me his cigarette before the show…it was awesome) and Al-P (Alex Puodziukas, a producer on the aforementioned DFA 1979’s You’re A Woman, I’m A Machine) From robots, to acid washed 80’s femme fatal videos, the crowd was taken from small venue to a living, evolving thing. I have been to many dance/techno/dj shows in my time, yet this was by far the most fun I have had. Dancing around, one only had to glance up at JFK to see that they were having just as much fun. Dancing and singing along, he would sneak the occasional drag of his cigarette before the music would drop again, sending the crowd into frenzy.
Standing on stage, arms spread out to embrace the crowd; I was able to see the extent of the destruction the we were doing. Removed from it all we were dancing the night away. Lights and smoke drifting from behind me, I could tell it was time to ascend back into the masses, and leave this stage of gods. And so I jumped as if a question to the crowd, and the sea of people answered back.
Lastly I want to add a slight blurb about their encore. Leaving the stage, the visuals started to melt down and make the dreaded computer error malfunction sound of death. Walking off all cool like, a tip of the hat was all we needed. Screaming and shouting, stomping our feet and chanting MSTRKRFT in unison, we knew we would get what we desired. Finally Al-P walked out to the overwhelming sound of applause and he set the stage. Getting Daft Punks “One More Time” prepped up, he gets it started, but it is just the rise. Repeating words and beats, he just starts the underlay of what is to come. After what seems like an eternity, like the build up to the climax of The Good, The Bad, And The Ugly, JFK runs out like Clint to end it all. Cigarette in tow, he inhales deep and jumps up, slamming his hand upon the button that releases the beat to roam free. The beat drops, and we are in total dance mode once more.
[Nick Erickson]

The Roseland

2008-10-19T11:50:00.000-07:00

Nestled in between a homeless hangout and a strip club, the Roseland is a nice little music venue only about 2 blocks from pioneer square. At first look from the inside, it looks like a pretty crappy place thats falling apart. And although it kinda is falling apart, it is also an awesome place. The whole place, including the stage, can probably fit inside stamm comfortably. Although this forces there to be way less available ticket slots, it also means your so close to your favorite bands that you can practically fondle them. Speaking of fondleing, here are a few of the problems with the roseland. 1) the fondleing. You get fondled. Although some people don't mind, i find it odd when a drunk chick you dont know runs up, grabs your ass, and bites your nipple. True story. 2) the younglings. There are alot of middle schoolers and high schoolers. Depending on the show, thats not so bad, but its kinda wierd looking at these kids in sluttly clothes and having them eye you with foul intentions (repember folks, they may seem fun, but its a felony! :D ). and finally, the worst thing about the roseland, 3) the bouncers. some of them are nice, alot of them are dicks. Go to any kind of show where there is moshing and croud surfing, and they get a bit ruough. I've seen them kick the shit out of people for no reason, other than they got thrown forward and they were super happy about that. But those problems aside, the tickets are cheap (15-30), and since its so small, most bands dont have a problem coming into the crowd and signing stuff (after everyones calmed down a bit, of course). Its probably my favorite venue in portland, and I suggest you check it out. (ticketswest.com, search Roseland).

Grant,
the Hi-there-I'm-OH-GOD-YOU-KICKED-MY-TEETH-IN

2008-10-18T19:46:00.000-07:00

There For Tomorrow, the four piece set from Orlando Florida, in the last two months just released their brand new 8 track EP Pages, were signed to Hopeless Records and have been on featured on national tours with All Time Low, Anberlin, Ivoryline and the Warped Tour. They are technically considered punk rock but their songs don't the whiny quality (which I love) that many other mainstream pop punk bands have. The band was formed in 2003 but they've just hit it big in the past year with features on MTV, MTVU the Daily Chorus and Alt Press. Though they were the first set of 3 opening bands for Anberlin when they played at the Wonder Ballroom last Sunday they were miles ahead of any of the other bands (Straylight Run, Scary Kids Scaring Kids) in terms of creativity and energy. While listening to the other bands I was tempted to leave and take a cab back to campus because after listening to TFT they seemed dull, old and uninspired. Also the fact that the oldest band member is still not able to drink makes it all the more enjoyable because they actually want to stick around after shows and talk to fans because we're all the same age. They are the first band I've encountered in a while who actually wants to be friends with there fans and have no problem standing around and talking for hours or adding you on facebook. They are basically just a group of really really talented kids who have the ability to create awesome music that makes it impossible to stand still during their shows. Plus they're funny as shit which always makes shows more fun, and they do a sick cover of Icebox.....listen now!

Margot & The Nuclear So And So's: Animal!/Not Animal!

2008-10-17T19:15:00.001-07:00

The Dust Of Retreat, the debut album of Margot & the Nuclear So and So’s, was a nearly perfect tapestry of lush chamber pop that skirted dangerously close to being a masterpiece. It’s not surprising, then, that the band was snatched up almost immediately by Epic, nor that anticipation for the group’s sophomore release reached fever pitch, especially after the announcement that the band had clashed with the label over which songs to include on the album and that, as compromise, two albums would be released: Animal!, the band’s vision of the album, and Not Animal!, which contained the label’s selections.

Despite the fact that the two albums share five of the same songs, the sound of Animal! differs considerably – and surprisingly – from that of Not Animal! It’s easy to hear why Epic rejected the band’s selections: while neither album is immediately accessible, Animal! is the tougher, denser sibling and takes listen after listen to digest properly. In addition, Animal! presents Margot as moving forward from their carefully layered chamber pop to a dirtier, though still lush, rock sound. Whereas on Dust Of Retreat, the electric guitar only took predominance on two tracks, the instrument dominates the majority of the songs here. On the other hand, a listen to Not Animal! would lead the listener to believe that Margot is staying within the boundaries of their debut, with tracks composed largely around acoustic guitars, pianos, and strings.

But in spite of the starkly different sounds, both albums demonstrate that Margot has a firm grip on and understanding of whatever genre they may be working with: both releases have excellent tracks scattered across their lengths. On Animal!, there is “O’ What A Nightmare!” with a roaring, anthemic chorus that segues unexpectedly through a meter change into a restrained, smoldering middle section. There is the murky, late-night wandering of “Love Song For A Schubas Bartender,” and the silent-movie esque strings of “There’s Talk Of Mine Shafts.” There’s plenty on Not Animal!, too, most notably a fleshed-out recording of long-time fan favorite “Broadripple Is Burning,” the quietly haunting “Real Naked Girls,” where waves of dissonant vocal harmonies fade in and out like static on the radio, and the straight-ahead folk-rock of “The Ocean (Is Bleeding Salt).” The tracks that appear on both albums, however, are those that straddle the line between the two extremes, and are, obviously, the best of the bunch. “A Children’s Crusade On Acid” is driven by ominous tom-toms and low, growling guitars, “Cold, Kind, And Lemon Eyes” is a mournful and epic waltz that features the most breathtaking build on either album (culminating in a great wash of sound practically overpowered by a rumble of feedback), and “As Tall As Cliffs” just may be the best song the group has ever recorded.

But while the melodies are gorgeous and the layers of sound wonderful to pick apart, what truly sets Animal! and Not Animal! apart from the rest of the indie-rock pack are lead singer Richard Edwards’ terrifically honest lyrics. Dust Of Retreat was hardly a happy record, but it’s truly to our advantage that Edwards hasn’t really cheered up any since, because his lyrics are filled with fascinating tales of people losing their lives to booze, lovers cheating on each other, and world (and sometimes just plain) weariness. Like any great folk record, they are what give the album its magnificent depth – they are what pull the listener back again time after time again. And it’s all for the best, because it’s only through time that Margot’s albums can reveal every layer of their magic.

Download These: “As Tall As Cliffs,” “Cold, Kind, And Lemon Eyes,” “A Children’s Crusade On Acid.”

~ Will Preston

How many hours has YouTube sapped from you life?

2008-10-15T14:17:00.000-07:00

Oh the glory of YouTube! A couple of Sundays ago I spent glued to my computer screen mindlessly watching hours of Ghostland Observatory videos, eyes blinded by pure brilliance. Their live footage will really rock your socks kids…but if you want laughs, just tune in to their profound words of wisdom taken mainly from band interviews. Here are a few good examples:

Airways interview- question: “do you find it easier being just the two of you?” Thomas Turner answers: “(scratches head) yeah. I mean…we can do what ever we want, ya know?”

Click to see video

2006 ACL Interview- Aaron Behrens proclaims, “Let them get down if they want to”

Click to see video

DocuBlogger (life in central TX) - Terry Lickona Producer, Austin City Limits director (he's like 100 yrs old) describes their sound “it’s not typical dance music or electronic music in my mind or to my ears it’s a combination of the electronic sounds but also genuine melodic music.” “What turns me on is the new jam…something fresh, something new”

Click to see video

Greenville St. Patty Parade Speech- people getting rowdy Aaron Behrens proclaims, “were all here to have a good time…so everybody needs to cool it calm ease up…I don’t wanna see nothing but positive shit going on right here…get the negative out of the place and bring in the positive because I ain’t haven it…it is gonna take you somewhere only if you let it take you there, everybody let's you go there”

Click to see video

2007 SXSW- question: “what do you call your music, rock or electronica?” Thomas Turner answers: “whatever blows your hair back.”

Click to see video

now that YouTube has sapped up more of your precious time and that you've become well vursed in Ghostland Observatory savvy...I'll have you know that GohstlandO will be preforming live at the Crystall Ballroom THIS Saturday OCTOBER 18TH! hope you've got your tickets kids.

iLikedTheDiscoVersionBetter, Monique

Geezer Brigade

2008-10-14T18:11:00.000-07:00

There’s been a somewhat disturbing trend over the past few years. Punk rock, long the haunt of the young, has seen more and more of its ancient, historic bands reform and start touring. Of course, very few of these bands are actually producing new material. Mostly, they seem to be cashing in on teen punx bucks. Making money off of an audience who are less interested in seeing something recent, relevant or even good, and more interested in trying to pretend like they are back in the nonexistent heyday of American punk music. Many of these bands seem to be simply shadows of their former selves. The Dead Kennedies without Jello Biafra or The Misfits without Glenn Danzig, for example.

A few weeks ago, I walked into the Satyricon with some of these concerns on my mind. The occasion was Final Warning’s second of two reunion shows. For those who aren’t cool and in the know, Final Warning was one the most important and  influential hardcore bands in the Pacific Northwest during the mid-eighties along with fellow Portlanders, Poison Idea. I could go into a detailed account of all the songs that they played during the show and what parts were particularly good and what bits I thought were less good but, to be honest, I don’t really remember and it’s not all that important. The important part is that I needn’t have worried: they played a fantastic show. As skeptical as I may have been as to whether a bunch of old farts like the folks in Final Warning could really pull off their songs with any real energy, they totally did. Even though they may have been past their bedtime and were almost certainly arthritic, it didn’t seem to keep them from head banging, jumping about or generally thrashing around like they were in their early-twenties. It was an impressive comeback/ending and walking  out of the venue, I felt good knowing that I’d just witnessed what was possibly Final Warning’s final show.  

-In other news, The Ergs! are breaking up. Yet another band breaking up before I ever get the chance to see them play. Godamnit.

-Also, I was gonna’ make a muxtape mix for this post, but it appears that Muxtape.com got shutdown since I last went on it. Bad luck strikes twice!

 -Spineless 

The Politico Piss Artist Presents: No. 1: Fear No Evil

2008-10-14T14:44:00.000-07:00

In the run up to this election, it is essential to remind ourselves of how politics bring s out the worst in people. So many campaigns are ran on idealistic crap peddling another vision for America to be discarded as soon as seats have been secured. Unfortunately people are stupid; oh so very stupid, and as a result we vote the same fucking wankers into office because they pander to peoples base fears.

One has to look no further than the bigoted racist shitheads who show up like rats crawling from sewers every time the Republican Veep candidate, Sarah "I can see russia from my house" Palin speaks to see what fear mongering can accomplish. Such people thrive on ideology, misinformation and general hate for humanity. One has to look only 60 or so years back to see what happens when people blindly follow ideology, even unto the edges of hells hot.

"So what can we do to save ourselves? "I can hear you say subconsciously. There is one way we can succeed in ensuring the long term survival of the human race: Do Not Fear. It is this fear mongering that has done more to destroy america like so many other countries pitting neighbor against neighbor, countryman against countryman. Do your part to ensure your survival: love someone today.

(Sugested Listening: Fear No Darkness Promised Child by Timo Raisanen)

{Brought to you from an underground bunker by the Politico Piss Artist}

Hey Pretentious Indie Kids of LC!

2008-10-13T23:35:00.000-07:00

Here is some bad humor at your expense:

What's the Difference between a puppy and an indie kid?
Eventually, the puppy stops whining.

How many indie kids does it take to change a light bulb?
Oh it's some obscure number; you've probably never heard of it.

How many indie kids does it take to change a light bulb?
2; one to change the light bulb and one to write a crappy song about it.

So an indie girl walks into a bar...
Then she immediately returns home to write in her livejournal about it and post the random ass things she took pictures of along the way onto her facebook.

How can you tell when an indie kid is hitting on you?
He doesn't ask for your number. Instead he asks you for a cigarette and if you like Postwar American Fiction.

Disclaimer: It's good to poke fun at ourselves every once in a while, so if you are actually offended, you can just go suck on your cigarettes and write a really confusing poem about how much I suck that doesn't make any sense to anybody!

Be3p bo0p b0P
DJ SimonBot 5000

R Kelly's impending release

2008-10-08T00:25:00.000-07:00

This one goes out to Kellz.

Last summer R. Kelly put out perhaps the most thematically cohesive, yet polyphonically rich album of the present decade; he incorporates his now fully developed style of multi-voiced versified storytelling, and brings in
distinct, well-known personalities, though still having Kelly providing the voices for different characters and even singing an apostrophe to a girl on the other end of a cell phone call. The themes of doubling in the lyrics align very well with the dynamic voicings of the record. Kelly let's us know very explicitly that he is taking everything he's ever done to the next level in his headier-than-thou intro to the title track: "Sixteen years, nothing but hits,
and they still don't believe. There's only one thing to do, and that is, double up." However, his purpose ultimately has little to do with the weight of these songs, and thusly he makes a turn, "Now that we got that out of the way, let's double up," and drops the beat, letting us know immediately that everything said at least means two things, playing with this binary of weight and lightness, and asserting that doubling can mean anything as heady as realizing he and his friend Usher are in love with girls who seem to be identical in every way ("Same Girl"), to simply having a threesome with two girls (the title track that features Snoop Dog as a second character who also doubles up).

Dostoevsky's novels are most famously attributed with the narrative device of "doubling," a term conceived by the Russian critic Mikhail Bakhtin. He termed the novels polyphonic, in that a large number of different, often combative, characters possess distinct voices in the work. These voices are then, "not an object of authorial discourse, but rather a fully valid autonomous carrier of his own individual word." The disagreement of "Real Talk," for example, not only tells the livid story of a break-up, but presents a genuine expression of polyphonic ambiguity, the kind of "catastrophe of disunited consciousnesses" that results from putting "closed" or "autonomous" consciousnesses into dialogue. "Real Talk" complicates the interaction of these personalities because we only have Kelly's side of the conversation and the implied presence of his girl on the other end; though by the end we are by no means convinced the Kelly is right in this situation, for his voice is so consistent in the album that we can assume from "I'm a Flirt," "Hook it Up," "Sex Planet," "Freaky in the Club," and from what we know of the singer himself, that Kelly in all probability "was with those other girls" in the club. We see through his blatant hypocrisy when he tells his girl to "watch her mouth" because he has already set a profanity-rich precedent with idiomatic gems such as "how the fuck she knew I was with them other girls then when the whole club packed—?" Our sympathy for his girl in spite of her lack of voice alienates Kelly from his audience because the song gets so "real," as it declares itself to do.

That "Real Talk" manages to assert an implied second character puts the song in a distinct category considering an album with ten songs that feature other singers, with several songs with more than just two voices, and the use of the phrase "Double Up" finding it's way into so many songs, while absent in "Real Talk." The persona of Kelly reaches a sort of purity in this context, for the clash of consciousness occurs between Kelly and the listener his or herself. "Leave Your Name" furthers this monologue-as-dialogue concept, which, while still addressing an implied girl on the phone, is not a live performance, i.e. talking in this moment on the phone to someone, but a recorded one, that is his outgoing message ("You have reached R Kelly unfortunately I am asleep"). The song is characterized by a more internal-thinking Kelly that represents the shift from an oral, live form of storytelling to that of a recorded, textualized form that is concerned with a more introspective tradition. The doubling of the vocal track by Kelly reinforces the self-doubt and self-examination, in a soliloquy of sorts much in the spirit of Hamlet's
inner-made-outer dialogue, Shakespeare also being cited by Bakhtin as a very effective user of doubling in his narratives.

However, the song presents a curious concept of the outgoing messaget: the recording describes why he is asleep, that is, the experiences of the night before. "You have reached R Kelly unfortunately I am asleep. [I've] been out partying all night, and I'm blasted off that Hennessey." The tense here moves to a present tense that indicates a more habitual feeling about the song and the singer's predicament: "I hop to hotel lobbies, going to them after parties, throwing up and carrying on, bout to have somebody drive me home, I get through the door, fall on the floor, get up. I'm staggering. [I] look upstairs. Shit is blurry because I'm real bent." An outgoing message makes sense because anytime someone calls he will be recovering from being overly intoxicated. This confessional honesty becomes "real" in the same vein as "Real Talk" with his desperate honesty about his alcoholism, sex addition, and enthusiasm for marijuana: "And now I don't know whether I'm coming or going." We are told then right before the chorus to whom this mechanical apostrophe is addressed: "And this goes out to all of my honeys that's calling." Kelly directly addresses his condition of being in dialogue with one's self in the next verse: "Drinking Belvedere, 7-Up, and gin, I told myself never again, sleeping while the club is crunk, don't make no sense to be that drunk. Arguing through the night, pushing on people and starting fights. I was fucked up: I confess, people saying Kellz is a hot mess. Even after that I was taking shots, shot after shot, shot after shot. Then I couldn't even open the door to my Benz. Dropped off and I get in the door now. Lying on the stairs snoring now. Why you calling me calling me calling me?" The verse gives an image of the "real" R Kelly, a self-destructive "hot mess." The repetition of "shot after shot" reinforces the habitual, potentially infinite extent to which Kelly is describing how he ends his nights.

What makes it appropriate as an out-going message is its repetition, how many times the evening is doubled, and then doubled again. However, we don't know what R Kelly does every night, and therefore we don't know the extent to which
it is a satire on unspontaneous, structured, and un"real" recordings, or if it's a sincere diversion from his spontaneous, highly idiomatic, and "real" performances. For every time the out-going message plays it reinforces the habitual character of its story and its existence as a mechanized performance (i.e. the production of a record), becoming less of a polyphonic voice. That he ends the song saying "Damn, 200 missed calls" is a joke about how the ambiguity of one's consciousness, the polyphony of a single person, does not allow an unequivocal interpretation, that is one that does not assert the implausibility of others. Here we can see the essential quality of R Kelly's project: describing two poles at once and inhabiting the ambiguity that lies between—me and/or you, improvised and/or meticulously crafted, from the heart and/or from the head, hot mess and/or king of R & B, flirt and/or alcoholic, doubling up and/or doubling up. This sophistication is what brings us back to Crime and Punishment, Hamlet, and, now, Double Up, for the experience with the works is a dynamic one, the listener always challenging and re-thinking what the work is accomplishing, for is it about "believing" in R Kelly's profundity or his levity, can we even call him profound, or does his switches between the two describe our generation so well that we can't call him light. That he ironizes his characters and flips over their interpretations, even when the character is himself, makes me over a year later amazed at these songs.

The present question is then, how will Kelly follow up, or potentially double up this record with the impending "12 Play: Fourth Quarter," whose release was delayed by Kelly's court dates and inability to promote it. Will it, like the hypothetical "bad motherfuckers that look like her, act like her" in "Hook it Up," that will it provide us with a doubled version of what is known to be "bad." From "Hairbraider," a song about "doing [his] hairbraider" we get more of the self-referential discussion of what it means to be R Kelly, but the context does not provide us with anything as brilliant as "I'm a Flirt"—the apostrophe that warns potential victims of his magic—, U and K having a cell-phone conversation in "Same Girl," or the genius of "Leave Your Name" and "Real Talk." "Skin," the second single is also disappointing for the most part. Double up has its defects, and so I don't wish to judge the fourth installment of 12-play yet, but if it acts like its predecessor, Tell her girlfriend [double up's double] to holler at her future boyfriend [me]." I have heard snippets of other songs since the album was leaked in July. "Might Be Mine," for example, is a great example of Kelly's polyphonic, spontaneous compositions, beginning "Gather round, this is a true story," creating a scene of Kelly performing to a group at his feet, like a veritable Greek prophet, and presenting an ambiguous binary between whether the kid is his or not ("there's a very good chance that it might be mine"). It is a "good chance" that it "might" be his kid. What the hell does that mean? He's already got me guessing.