"this is some straight up thoreau shit"

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!

health!
Originally uploaded by [jono]

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

wyatt at british breakfast

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.

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

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!!!

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!

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