What It is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves (1967-1977) or The Ideal Christmas Present

On some level I lied in the title of this post, because the incredible Funky Soul box set isn’t the ideal Christmas present. Indeed, the perfect Christmas present for anyone with class and gentility would be Jim Jones’ A Dipset Christmas. But perhaps that special someone in your life doesn’t find hearing the word Baallin!!! hysterically funny (i.e. they have a normal well-adjusted sense of humor). If that’s the case, then there is no better solution for your gift-giving woes than the recently released four-disc funk compilation: What It is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves (1967-1977). Take that Sufjan Stevens and your O So Silent Post-Modern Hipster Christmas!

My knowledge of classic funk and soul is tenuous at best. For this, I blame R. Kelly and Usher for souring me on the fine name of Rhythm and Blues. Sure, I dig me some Al Green, Shuggie Otis, James Brown, and Sly & The Family Stone, but hadn’t ventured much further than those relatively obvious boundaries until Ace of Slack Lalane pointed me in the direction of this Rhino Records compilation that came out last week. (By the way, if you haven’t checked out Ace’s Glide Magazine music blog, you should)

In terms of as introductions to the world o’ funk go, you won’t find many better primers than this one. Despite its whopping four discs and 91 track length, Funky Soul never ceases to entertain with cuts full of rolling and rich music brimming with joy and soul. Each track bursts with triumphant horns slick pianos, serpentine basslines and back-breaking Crazy Robertson -esque funk. Music doesn’t come much better than hearing Parliament’s Eddie Hazel doing a solo cover of “California Dreaming” full of Hendrixian guitar pyrotechnics, haunting piano keys, ghostly backing singers and a plaintive and bruised lead vocals. Or a brass-backed falsetto-voiced Curtis Mayfield cooing his strangely uplifting dirge “(Don’t Worry) If There’s a Hell Below We’re All Gonna’ Go.”

You’re Either With Curtis Mayfield or You’re Against Curtis Mayfield

While many of the songs selected come from big names (Hazel,Mayfield, Aretha Franklin, The Meters, Wilson Picket, Earth Wind & Fire, Little Richard), it never feels like a greatest hits compilation, as each track is rare and seldom-heard, plucked from the dusty recesses of old major label catalogues. Besides the marquee artists, the album is filled with strong songs from lesser known acts like Eddie Harris and The United 8, who turn in incredible performances on “Live Right Now” and “Getting Uptown (To Get Down),”respectively.

In addition to listening to some vintage windows-down bass-rattling funk, any hip-hop head will have a field day trying to pick out which songs have been sampled where. Some are immediately recognizable like “Hard Times” by Baby Huey & The Babysitters which provides the foundation for Ghostface’s classic Supreme Clientele track, “Buck 50;” or Lupe Fiasco’s “Slow Down” which re-appropriates Earth, Wind & Fire’s “Bad Tune.” “Ridin’ High” by Fazo-O laid the musical foundation for tracks like Black Moon’s “Shit is Real” and Snoop’s “Ride 4 Me.” while a Fred Wesley cut called “Four Play” was snatched by DJ Premier for the Gangstarr classic, “Step in the Arena.” And as one might have guessed, the Dust Brothers-era Beastie Boys also owe a large debt to these cuts, as they pilfered Funk Factory’s “Rien Ne Va Plus” for Paul’s Boutique’s”Car Thief” and Eugene McDaniel’s “Headless Heroes” for Ill Communication’s “Get it Together.”

If you have any interest at all in classic soul and R&B music, this compilation is highly recommended. Sure, it might not have the intrinsic Yuletide charms of Jim Jones rapping on the soon-to-be classic, “Dipset X-Mas Time.” But even the Capo himself would be hard-pressed to admit that What It is! Funky Soul and Rare Grooves (1967-1977) is anything but Baalllin!!!

Rating: 9.5

Buy it here.

Download:

MP3: Baby Huey & The Babysitters:: “Hard Times”
MP3: Ghostface Killah from Supreme Clientele:: “Buck 50″

MP3: Earth, Wind & Fire:: “Bad Tune”
MP3: Lupe Fiasco from the leaked version of Food & Liquor :: “Slow Down”

Mp3: Fred Wesley & The Horny Horns: “Four Play”
MP3: Gangstarr from Step In the Arena: “Step into the Arena”

Posted in Festivals, Album Reviews, Are You From the Lester Bangs School of Thought? | 5 Comments »

Eminem Presents: The Worst Rap Album of the Year

I don’t know why I had any expectations for this one. I really don’t. Maybe I have the musical version of battered wife syndrome and only choose to remember the good times. The day I purchased The Slim Shady LP and was blown away by its caustic wit, its complex but hilarious rhymes, its alternately real and cartoonish storytelling. Or the backpacker-wowing Soundbombing II song. Or the raw verse on Sway and Tech’s “The Anthem where he held his own with Kool G Rap, Xzibit, Rza, Pharoahe Monch and KRS-One. Or the hip-hop quotable “Forgot About Dre” verse from Chronic 2001 or the Jay-Z incinerating “Renegage” Blueprint performance. Take your pick.

That was a long time ago. But still, there was something about The Re-Up that intrigued me. Maybe Proof’s death would bring increased introspection, conceptual growth and evolution. Or maybe I bought the pre-release hype spouted by Shady himself. Either way, the album is worse than I ever could’ve imagined, nothing but 70-plus minutes and 22 tracks worth of tired boasts, shamelessly false gun talk, exhausted subject matter, and no-talent parasitic Shady Records weed carrier guest appearances. This is a CD made to fill bargain-basement CD sales from here to eternity.

With the Re-Up, Eminem demonstrates how empty his tank is, how few ideas are left for him to puncture, exactly how many trips to Brokeback Mountain he and 50 have made. Make no mistakes about it, this isn’t art, this is the Roc La Familia of Shady Records. Except that Freeway, Memphis Bleek and Beanie Siegel are Biggie, Nas and ‘Pac compared to Shady Records’ tribe of weed carrying no-talents, Bobby Creekwater, Stat Quo, and Ca$his.

50, I Just Can’t Quit You

Commencing with “Shady Narcotics” (get it…his music is like drugs…ha ha, edgy), Eminem begins his assault on good taste with a bunch of screaming and gun-shots over Scarface rip-off synths that Giorgio Moroder could probably sue over. During the minute-long track, Eminem brags about how vicious his crew of D-12, 50 Cent, Obie Trice and the new weed carriers are. At one point, he boasts about how new signee Ca$his is from Orange County. I’m not sure if he’s supposed to be joking. What’s the guy going to rap about? How much he doesn’t like surfing and/or wearing Quicksilver/Hurley/Volcom clothing?

The second track, “We’re Back” is a completely forgettable posse cut featuring Em, Obie Trice, Stat Quo, Bobby Creekwater and Ca$his. Rather than sound ferocious (which I imagine was his intent) Eminem sounds like Screech during Saved By the Bell: The New Class: much too old and desperate to stay relevant. But instead of feebly trying to crack his voice like Samuel J. Powers, Eminem instead screams incessantly, the yells of a 34-year old man, completely stripped of his trademark nasally pitch, left with a dull non-menacing rasp.

As for the new weed jockeys, they fall flat too, delivering weak cliches and weaker similes like “Stat Quo’s “I treat the mic like the block.” At one point, Stat Quo declares that “critics are expecting me to underachieve.” Uh yeah….and they were right. Meanwhile Creekwater sounds like Paul Wall for retards, which is kind of amazing because Paul Wall is basically Bubba Sparxx for retards. The OC-bred Ca$his wisely opts not to talk about Billabong or Seth Cohen, instead using the platform to declare that “to the block he’s the truth, to the cops he’s the proof.” He also compares himself to Al Capone and claims that he’s lived the “street life.” Laguna Beach represent!

Shady Records: Where Gun Talk is Fun Talk

The Obie Trice cut “Pistol Pistol Remix” finds Eminem screaming ad-libs in the background, somehow managing to out-obnoxious even Kay Slay and DJ Drama. Trice’s rapping isn’t bad, as he’s clearly the best rapper signed to Shady Records. But his lyrical content raises the existential question: if Obie Trice writes the same songs over and over again and no one notices the difference, do they actually exist? In the meantime, back on the O.C., Ca$his fails again misterable on the creatively titled “Everything is Shady” (get it because that’s like not only Eminem’s nickname but it’s like totally the name of the label.). On this absurdly bad song, Ca$his speaks of dealing “bricks” and that his homeboys will “clap you down.” Presumably, with their long boards.

“The Re-Up” finds Eminem and 50 trading verses. Eminem claims he is a “killer,” he’s “sinister,” yadda, yadda, yadda. Meanwhile 50 sounds like a little retarded child whom someone thought it would be funny to see what they’d sound like rapping. “Jimmy Crack Corn” shows Eminem at his most lyrically barren, futilely trying to flip a nursery rhyme. Apparently, he and 50 Cent now take song ideas from Jibbs. “Trapped” features a 58 second rap from Proof that only serves to posthumously prove exactly how mediocre the fallen rapper was. “We Ride For Shady” is the year’s worst weed-carrying anthem, as Obie Trice and Ca$his sing about how lucky they are to have been plucked out of obscurity and given the prestigious title of official Shady Records weed carriers.

And on and on it plummets. Song after grotesquely boring song featuring the abysmal Shady Records crew. We get a “Smack That” remix and a “Shake That” remix. We get a song so dumb that it shares the same name as a L’il Jon track: “Get Low.” But ultimately, Eminem’s utter decreptitude as an artistic force is revealed on his two solo tracks, “Public Enemy #1″ and “No Apologies.” Both songs are futile attempts to be “deep.” On the former, Eminem spouts ridiculous and nonsensical conspiracy theories about the FBI assassinating JFK and Tupac, while hinting that he may be next. The latter track, “No Apologies” is a toothless tirade against his imaginary critics. Both delusional songs prove that either Eminem is schizophrenic or cynical, because his schtick about how the world hates him is getting pretty old. Dude, you’re 34 years old. You’ve won 11 Grammy’s, sold nearly 100 million records and been on the cover of every magazine ever. Get over yourself.

The truth is, Eminem Presents the Re-Up is two things. First and foremost, it’s an excuse to sell records around Christmas-time to middle-aged mortgage brokers who think they’re hip and to 13-year olds who just don’t know any better. But more than that, it’s also the last dying gasps of an artist who has lost his way, one who has nothing left to say. The cupboards are barren, the stash is emptied, the curtains are already shuttered. Will someone please tell Eminem that it’s time to go home.

Rating: 0.0

Download from Eminem Presents The Re-Up

Eminem, 50 Cent, Ca$his, Lloyd Banks: “You Don’t Know” (right-click, save as)

Eminem: “No Apologies” (right-click, save as)

Bonus: Songs From When Eminem Actually Used to Be Good

Eminem: “Till Hell Freezes Over” (right-click, save as)

Eminem: “Kids” (right-click, save as)

Posted in Album Reviews | 14 Comments »

Why Mobb Deep’s Hell on Earth Is Twice as Hot as the Other Hell

Sorry. But I had to add one more thing. Especially after this and this. Granted, those scores are no surprise. Anyone with a pulse and an Internet connection could’ve predicted that Pitchfork and Stylus would annoint Clipse’s Hell Hath No Fury, the Top Rap Album of 2006. Better than Ghostface’s Fishscale. Better than Lupe Fiasco’s Food and Liquor, The Game’s Doctor’s Advocate Murs‘ Murray’s Revenge and The Roots’ Game Theory. Making Hell Hath No Fury the most overrated hip-hop album ever released (though Late Registration and The Love Below/Speakerboxx certainly give it a run for its money). Does anyone honestly believe that it’s better than We Got it 4 Cheap Vol. 2? And if so, why? (Hint: Ian “Sexy Results” Cohen quite brilliantly provides the answer in this post).

People seem to have either forgotten what rap sounded like in 1994-1997 (makes sense since many rap fans are stoners) or they started liking rap with the Black Star album. Fair enough. But to paraphrase Lloyd Bentsen, I’ve seen classic albums, and Hell Hath No Fury is no classic album.

Wherefore Art Thou Loud Records? Wherefore art Thou?

Indeed Hell Hath No Fury is merely the 4th best rap album with the word “Hell” in the title, following Raising Hell, Cage’s Hell’s Winter, and the best of the bunch, Mobb Deep’s Hell on Earth. Hauntingly bleak and brilliant in its simplicity. Hell on Earth might not match the dystopian perfection of its predecessor, The Infamous, but remains one of the finest hip-hop albums ever made.

Havoc, the architect of Mobb Deep’s sound might’ve been able to give Rza and Premier some competition for the title of the best producer of the mid-90s NYC scene. With sonics full of hypnotic and ominous piano loops, gritty crackling drums and eerie synths, Havoc’s beats seem grimy and raw, beautifully matching Prodigy’s haunting and vivid tales of Queensbridge. Unlike the Internet’s favorite flavor of the month rappers, Hell on Earth is full of great cinematic storytelling, something the Clipse seem incapable of, wasting verses on non-stop bragging and boasting, opting to insert tired cliches and spending their entire album trying to think of different ways to make “key/ki” drug jokes.

Granted, it’s easy to poke fun at Mobb Deep in the year 2006, especifally after the abortion that was Blood Money and all inevitable suckitude (because it’s new word Tuesday) that accompanies 50 Cent where ever he goes. But approximately a decade ago, before the Summerjam fiasco, there were few more fierce sounding individuals on wax. It’s certainly not a coincidence that the group’s music hyped Eminem’s 8 Mile character before going on-stage. Even after having long since sold out, Prodigy and Havoc still seem more menacing than the Clipse, who have repeatedly proclaimed themselves B.F.F. (Pusha T-’s words…I think) with the Neptunes and Justin Timberlake. Yup, that Timberlake/Clipse collabo “Like I Love You” was nothing if not rough, rugged and raw. Almost as good as “Shook Ones Pt. II.”

The Only Rule at G-Unit Records: You Must Pose Shirtless on Every Album Cover. Or Else.

When push comes to shove, classic rap albums are merely the sum of classic songs, an area where Hell on Earth shines in contrast. Hell Hath No Fury can’t match the murderous and savage “God Pt. III.” It doesn’t have the Tupac-smashing “Drop a Gem on Em. It has guest appearances from Slim Thug and Pharrell. In contast, Hell on Earth gets a scorching Method Man guest verse on “The Extortion,” a slick Cuban Linx-era Raekwon on “Nighttime Vultures,” and 16 bars of classic Nas on “Give It Up Fast.”

If you haven’t heard vintage Mobb Deep and you love Hell Hath No Fury than you’re in for a treat. You can buy Hell on Earth here. And if you have heard it before and still are blown away by the genius of Hell Hath No Fury, than please send me whatever it is that you’re smoking. I imagine you must have the hook-up and obviously got it 4 cheap.

Download:
Mobb Deep: “Nighttime Vultures” from Hell on Earth (right-click, save as)

Mobb Deep: “God (Pt. III)” from Hell on Earth (right-click, save as)

Bonus:
Mobb Deep: “Shook Ones Pt. 2″ from The Infamous (right-click, save as)

The Round-Up

Pete Wentz: The Voice of a Degeneration

Jay-Z is doing a guest appearance on the Fall Out Boy CD. The best part about the article is that it reveals that when Jay-Z phone-calls the band he introduces himself, “This is Hov.” To which Pete Wentz immediately begins crying and asking for girl (or boy) advice.

I know this is old, but I had to mention that Kanye West is now sponsoring race cars. The only condition is that if the drivers lose the race, they have to throw a temper tantrum and scream about how unfair everything was.

Skeet on Mischa’s Top 10 Songs of the Year

Dallas Penn:”Clipse is the number one rap group for guys who moved into urban areas from the midwest, who wear extra schmedium t-shirts and skateboard to Starbucks. They also have high powered internets connections and slick looking iMacs at their office desks. These clowns can recite every single Clipse verse evar made, even the the ones from the hidden track on the ‘We Tongue Kiss Chad Hugo For Cheap’ mixtape.”

Buried in the P-Fork interview with Stones Throw chief Peanut Butter Wolf is the revelation that the Madvillain album is close to being completed and will likely come out next year. Another reason why 2007 might be the best year of music in a long long time, other than new albums from Spoon, Wilco, Arcade Fire, Shins, et. al,

Vast Aire of Cannibal Ox’s Myspace page is streaming relatively new and very very good songs. Definitely worth checking out.

I have no idea where Aquarium Drunkard gets his bootlegs but they’re incredible. Check out these Pink Floyd tracks from the Zabriskie Point Sessions.

Posted in Are You From the Lester Bangs School of Thought? | 9 Comments »

Jim Jones "Hustler’s P.O.M.E. or 24 Hours Of Ballin!!!

A Day In the Life of Jim Jones (according to Hustler’s P.O.M.E (Product Of My Environment))

11:23 a.m. Jim Jones is woken up by a phone call from Max B. Jim Jones likes Max B, but thinks that Max sounds too much like 50 Cent. Jim Jones finds this Baalliin!
Shaking the sleep out of his eyes, Jim Jones tells Max B to come over. This makes Max B very excited. He dreams of the day when he too will have his own weed carrier.

12: 35 p.m. Max B finally arrives at Jim Jones’ place in Harlem. Jim Jones greets him: “Baalllinn!!” He invites Max into the apt. to do some lines. Jim Jones tells Max B about last night when the yay had him trippin. He was paranoid at Benihana’s, not to mention an unsightly incident at the club. Max B tells Jim Jones not to worry. He tells him that the “we live sucka’ free.” Jim Jones is happy. Very happy.

1: 15 p.m. Jim Jones is still thinking about last night at the club. He likes clubs. And money. And girls. He also likes bouncin’ and grindin’. Did he mention that he likes clubs?

2:30 p.m. Jim Jones is almost ready to leave his apt, but first he looks in the mirror and adjusts his hat. Jim Jones cannot go out in public unless his hat is a perfect 180 to the side. Jim Jones really really really liked The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. Jim Jones is not from Bel-Air. Instead, he is from Harlem. And Jim Jones thinks that is pretty fucking baalliin!!

Juelz Santana Revealing a List of Rappers Much Better Than Him

3:55 p.m. Jim Jones takes a cab to meet his friend Juelz Santana at the club. Neither man is aware that the club won’t be open for another 9 hours, yet neither seems to care. They decide to have a long conversation in front of the club. Juelz produces a blunt for the pair to smoke. Jim finds this particularly baalllin. Soon the two men grow pensive. Juelz says he is emotionless. Sadly, Jim Jones is not emotionless and cries at his friends lack of emotion. He tells Juelz that mama raised a hell of a thug. Juelz agrees and tells him that he will seek therapy. Jim Jones finds this an excellent idea.

4: 34 p.m. Jim Jones decides that he needs political ties. He walks into Barney’s 5th Avenue. When he asks a saleslady if the store has neckties with pictures of George Bush and Bill Clinton on them, she looks at Jim Jones like he is crazy. Apparently, they do not have political ties. This makes Jim Jones sad because he has said repeatedly on his album that he has political ties. Jim Jones had just figured he would skirt the issue by buying neckties with pictures of presidents on them. Not baalllin!!

5:45 P.M. Jim Jones sees his friend Cam’ron on the street. Cam’ron is wearing pink. Again. Cam’ron tells Jim that the two of them are like the Piston’s balls: Back-to-back champs. The reference is lost on Jim.

Cam’ron Wearing a Pelt of Dead Smurf

6:33 p.m. Jim Jones decides that he will not sleep tonight. Hustler’s do not sleep. They write poems. Jim Jones likes poems. He writes poems about clubs. And ho’s. And baalllin!! Just like his hero Ezra Pound.

7:23 p.m. Jim Jones decides that tonight he will fly high. Suddenly, he has a flashback to last week when he was ballin. Jim Jones likes flashbacks. He also likes bub. Tonight, he vows that he will order 10 bottles of Bub by 2 in the morning.

8:23 p.m. Jim Jones receives a phone call. He checks the caller ID. It is one of his hos. Damnit! When he checks the voicemail, she tells him how upset she is about how the last time they had sex and he left a $100 bill on the dresser. She also tells him that she wants more out of the relationship than a Dipset tattoo. Ha ha. Jim Jones will have nothing of the sort. He declares that treating women like prostitutes is definitely baallinn!!

9:15 p.m. Oh no. The ho is calling again. This time she tells him about how she has sent him 22 text mails and 32 e-mails. Jim Jones laughes again. He tells himself that he is just like Rick James. He is rich, bitch. Girls like guys who are rich. You know who else girls like? Jim Jones.

10:34 p.m. L’il Wayne and Jim Jones meet up for some cocaine. Both of them like cocaine. After a couple of lines Wayne tells Jones that he’s sweet like a tahitian treat. Jim Jones does not know exactly what this means. However, he assumes that this is something that Baby has previously told Wayne.

11:15 p.m. The cocaine makes Jim Jones feel introspective. Unfortunately, right now Jim Jones is at the club. What will he do? He decides he will call up his voicemail message-leaving ho. Jim Jones tells her “baby don’t push me away.” He apologizes for treating her so poorly. After all, she did get a Dipset tattoo.

Jim Jones’ Tribute Album to Ryder Strong, star of Boy Meets World

12: 34 a.m. Jim Jones is ballin like it was 1999. Or so Prince has told him. He is dancing with a ho again. Huzzah. All of a sudden, he gets a call from his friend Freekey Zekey. Freeky Zeekey asks him if he’s ever seen someone’s head split open. Jim Jones tells him that he has and that it was pretty goddamned ballin. He also says “free Freekey.”

2: 52 a.m. Jim Jones needs grub. He also thinks he is in love with a stripper. He also thinks that he is Tupac.

3:54 a.m. Jim Jones is worried. He no longer thinks that he is Tupac. This is bad. He decides the only way to solve the problem is to steal one of Tupac’s beats and record a song called “My Life.”

4:32 a.m. Jim Jones listens to “My Life” and becomes convinced that he is not actually Tupac. Jim Jones freaks out. Wait. Suddenly, Jim Jones knows what to do. He will call his friend Benjamin Chavis Muhammed. This is a good idea. Benjamin calms Jim down by repeating the word “baallin” endlessly. This puts Jim into a trance.

6:34 a.m Jim Jones wakes up from his trance in a cold sweat. Frantically, he grabs a pen and starts writing the song that had appeared to him in a dream. It is called “Ballin’ (On Christmas). When he finishes writing the song he goes back to sleep. Another day, another baller.

Rating: 7.2

Download
Jim Jones (ft. Cam’ron, Juelz Santana): “Pin the Tail” (left-click)

Jim Jones (ft. L’il Wayne, Stack Bundles): “Weathermen” (left-click)

Posted in Album Reviews, Are You From the Lester Bangs School of Thought?, Best Of | 11 Comments »

Serge Gainsbourg: Raconteur, Bon Savant, Libertine (No Pete Doherty)

Just take a look at this man. If Serge Gainsbourg hadn’t become one of the most famous musicians in French History, he probably could have only found work as a ditch digger, a man-whore or perhaps a Catholic Priest. Either way, Serge didn’t quite project the image of a clean-living good samaritan. Then again, his date rapist appearance wasn’t exactly helped by his tendencies to write songs about incest, the unsanitary setbacks of anal sex and seducing under-age women. He also wrote a song called “Homo Dub.” I kid you not. In his 62 years on earth, Serge (nee Lucien Ginzburg) was either the world’s most awesome human being or its most despicable. Probably a little of both.

Most Americans haven’t heard of Serge Gainsbourg, meaning that if you end up liking him you probably will be subjected to strange accusatory glances whenever you play one of his songs. Inevitably, a friend or two will ask you to turn off “your French sodomy music.” To which, you will hang your head in shame and immediately throw on some Led Zeppelin. But you can’t be blamed for such indiscretions. It’s not your fault that Serge Gainsbourg’s music is pretty great.

Of course, not all of it is brilliant. Some of it is downright bad. However, it never manages to be anything less than entertaining. Of course, all of it is in French so you can’t understand a thing (unless you’re one of those “smart” people, or you can go here). But the language barriers only make the thing more fun to listen to, as you can make-up your own nonsensical lyrics to accompany the sumptuous baroque instrumentation. For instance, Histoire de Melody Nelson, Gainsbourg’s epic 1971 song cycle about a middle-aged man in a Rolls Royce who likes to seduce teenage girls, can be an epic 2006 cycle about how much you hate King of Queens.

Best Album About A Fat Guy, His Attractive Wife and the Borough of Queens Ever Made Indeed, Histoire de Melody Nelson is regarded by music critics, hipsters and hipster music critics as the high point of Gainsbourg’s career. And it’s tough to argue with that logic, as the album has a feel that few albums ever made has, a spell of soft strings, elastic bass lines, inspired guitar licks and a creepy but eerily soothing sound.

The album also features the voice of Jane Birkin, Gainsbourg’s muse and the very attractive woman on the album you see above. According to lore, Gainsbourg was quite the ladies man, bedding (and recording with) Brigitte Bardot and reportedly 3/4ths of Paris and 1/5th of Alsace-Lorraine (facts about Paris and Alsace-Lorraine may or may not be true). Gainsbourg also did such amazing things as tell Whitney Houston that he wanted to “fuck her” live on French television (available for viewing here). He even convinced Rita Marley to sing erotic lyrics on record, a request which apparently pissed Bob off to no end.

In the course of the 30 years between 1958 and 1988, Gainsbourg experimented with a variety of music styles, incorporating (according to Wikipedia), Jazz, ballads, mambo, lounge, reggae, pop (including adult contemporary pop, kitsch pop, yé-yé pop, 80s pop, pop-art pop, prog pop, space-age pop, psychedelic pop, and erotic pop), disco, calypso, Africana, bossa nova and rock and roll. On his last album, You’re Under Arrest, he apparently went hip-hop. Sadly, I have yet to hear it.

So in honor of Thanksgiving, the most American of holidays, I present my Serge Gainsbourg sampler, in honor of the most French person to ever live. (Paris was brought to a standstill when he died). So take a listen, have a look-see, and the next time someone asks you to turn off the “French sodomy music,” look them directly in the eye and say, “You know what? This is damn good French sodomy music. Got a problem with that?”

Download:

Serge Gainsbourg & Brigitte Bardot: “Bonnie and Clyde” from Bonnie and Clyde (1968) (right-click, save as)

Serge Gainsbourg & Jane Birkin: “Je T’aime Moi Non Plus” from Jane Birkin/Serge Gainsbourg (1969) (right-click, save as)

Serge Gainsbourg: “Ballade de Melody Nelson” from Histoire de Melody Nelson (1971) (right-click, save as)

Serge Gainsbourg: “Homme À Tête de Chou” from L’Homme À Tête de Chou (1976) (right-click, save as)

Serge Gainsbourg: “Dub Homo” from Mauvaises Nouvelles Des Etoiles (right-click,save as) (not that there’s anything wrong with that)

Bonus:
MC Solaar: “Nouveau Western” (the famous French rapper sampling Bonnie and Clyde) (right-click, save as)

Posted in Are You From the Lester Bangs School of Thought? | 7 Comments »

The Clipse’s Hell Hath No Fury or the Gangsta Rap Yankee Hotel Fox-Not

The story of the Clipse would bring a smile to Malcolm Gladwell’s face. For those who haven’t read Gladwell’s Tipping Point, it’s central premise is simple: small groups of influential people have the ability to affect change on larger portions of the population. One of the more interesting examples Gladwell provides is the case of a handful of hipsters in New York City who glommed onto the forlorn Hush Puppies brand. Within a short period of time, these hipsters managed to spark a nationwide trend that led to Hush Puppies being placed in fashion shows and in malls across America, in the process completely revitalizing the brand.

Similarly, when the hipsters found the Clipse in 2005, their brand was similarly moribund. In 2002, Clipse released their second album, Lord Willin. Although the album ultimately managed to go gold, I’ve never met a soul outside of the Internet who actually purchased the thing. It received good but not great reviews. Rolling Stone tagged it with 3 stars (surprise, surprise), as did AMG while XL gave it an XL score.

After a ho-hum but succesful single “Grindin,’ (that apparently everyone likes but me) came and went, the Clipse became an afterthought in the rap world. Another rap duo that rhymed about drugs, no different from 99.9 percent of rap groups other than the fact that they had the Neptunes making beats for them. Yes, it seems that between the middle of 2002 until the middle of 2005, everyone forgot about the Clipse. Except for the writers at Pitchfork.

Nothing Gets Between Pusha T and His Sad Faced Bluejeans….Nothing

Over the last year and change, Pitchfork has kept up one of the most steady drum-beats of hype ever launched by a media publication, reviewing 10 different Clipse or Clipse-featured singles (giving the majority stratospheric scores), reviewing their live show with lavish praise and giving two of their mixtapes the #15 slot in their 2005 Year End List. On top of it all, the website seemed to write Clipse news updates every time either of the duo blew their cocaine-drenched noses.

This media blitz soon spread to other music outlets, creating a buzz which ultimately culminated in the Clipse’s long-awaited follow-up, Hell Hath No Fury finally getting to see the light of day next Thursday. The advance buzz on the album has been tremendous. GQ gave it the misnomer: “The gangsta rap Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.” While Pitchfork already ran a column last Friday literally begging people to buy it at a Soundscan-checking store. XXL awarded the album a perfect XXL score, only the seventh time the magazine has ever done so. Hell even at Stylus, half the staff has been studying the advance singles as though they were the Dead Sea Scrolls rather than songs that sound like the noise that Fred Flintstone would make when he clubbed a dinosaur over the head (Wamp, Wamp).

But the truth is that Hell Hath No Fury will do down as one of the most overrated rap albums of all time. Make no mistake, it isn’t a bad album. In fact, it’s pretty good, but it certainly won’t be worthy of the critical tongue-bathing that it will inevitably receive. While the album features a half dozen good to very good songs, half of it is redundant and dull: cocaine raps spit over boring all-too-minimalist beats. While Pusha T and Malice can certainly flow as well as nearly any duo in hip-hop, they still haven’t learned to write lyrics with substantial wit or complexity. All too often, their rhyme schemes fall into predictable AA,BB, CC, DD formation, while their punchlines and diction are bloated with cliches. And their lyrical content is about as one-note as it comes: did you know that these guys deal coke? If so, you will learn absolutely else about them.

Blue Steel???…Ferrari???…Le Tigre???…They’re All the Same Look

Of course, the reasons for the hype are obvious. Nothing gets a music journalist more excited than a story pitting artists against big bad record label “monsters” (see Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and The Meadowlands). But the funny thing is that the Clipse aren’t even the best rap duo constantly beset by label problems. That honor would go to Camp Lo and M.O.P., two groups infinitely more worthy of the hype machine.

But none of this is the Clipse’s fault. They got royally screwed by Jive and were forced to watch from the sidelines as a treadmill of lesser acts won fame and rap fortune (Ying Yang Twinz say Yeah!). And like I said, Hell Hath No Fury is pretty good but far from great. Things start off auspiciously with the first track “We Got it 4 Cheap,” about what else, how they sell cheap cocaine. But in spite of the trite subject manner, the duo turn the song’s uplifiting synths and banging drums into an anthem. The second track, “Mamma I’m So Sorry,” is similarly excellent, utilizing the best accordian sample since the Madvillain album.

But in spite of the track’s effectiveness, one can already see chinks in the album’s armor. Between tracks one and two, they insert a Pulp Fiction sample for no real reason. Not only does the sample feel outdated by a good decade, but it seems to epitomize the lack of consistency that plagues the album, as its the only movie sample used. Contrast this to a true classic like Only Built 4 Cuban Linx which utilizes cinematic inserts and elucidatory skits throughout, giving the album the consistency and over-arching concepts that Hell Hath lacks.

The Clipse Paying Homage to Wayne’s World “Extreme Close-Up” Cam

By the third and fourth tracks, the singles, “Mr. Me Too,” and “Wamp, Wamp” the album’s critical flaw becomes apparent. In 2006, you can’t count on the Neptunes to churn out 12 well-produced tracks. “Mr. Me Too” not only is a direct rip-off of “Drop it Likes It’s Hot,” it also undermines their tough-talk claims by showcasing Pharrell on yet another song. After all, how much coke can you slang when you spend most of your days hanging out with Skateboard P? Exactly.

“Wamp Wamp” utilizes steel drums to try to give the track a calypso feel, but it feels like something Swizz Beatz would’ve made in 1998 for the Ruff Ryders Volume I compilation. Additionally, it features some of the laziest lines on the album: “no hotta’ flow droppa since poppa….I ball around the world like a globetrotter.” By track 5, “Ride Around Shining” the Camp Lo-lite feel that pervades this album becomes more obvious. Over a lukewarm Neptunes beat, the Clipse drop some vicious rhymes. Yet while artists like Raekwon and Camp Lo invented unique slang to express their world of guns, drugs and jewels, the Clipse seem content to spit the same tired tropes.

Indeed while Sonny Cheeba of Camp Lo would effortlessly spit gems like “diamond runnin/strangers in paradise over flash/sugar cane alley cats/lo in parade/with the black spades/courvosier/; the Clipse are content to write hooks like “all my fly bitches like dirty money dirty money, all my stripper bitches like dirty money, dirty money.” Or “let’s go shopping, let’s go chill, let’s go buy the new Louis Vuitton heels.”

A Face That Only a Pitchfork Writer Could Love

Following the four song lull, the Clipse return with “New World” a stunningly woozy rap minimalist stomp, and a song almost good enough to make one forgot “Wamp Wamp.” “Keys Open Doors” is similarly outstanding, as the banging beats and claustrophobic synths match Pusha and Malice’s tremendous flows. Sadly, these two tremendous tracks do little to build momentum as the next song is “Ain’t Cha,” another calypso disaster. Saddled with weak production, the song sinks, as does “Trill” which features one of the dumbest hooks written in 2006, as the Clipse just keep on repeating “Bitch/n**ga I’m so Trill” over and over again.” It’s so much like Yankee Hotel Foxtrot it’s scary.

The album manages to close out strong, with the menacing machine-gun funk of “Chinese New Year,” all pyroclastic flow and madvillainy. The Bilal featured “Nightmares” is a song that might be the closest the Clipse come to introspection. Yet rather than express regret for the life of drug-dealing that they glorify, they refuse to dig deeper, issuing another two-dimensional portrait of the hustling life, filled with stale lines that reveal how long this has been in the vaults (i.e. “I’m Leonardo…catch me if you can.) Nonetheless, the duo makes a wise choice to have Bilal rather than Pharrell singing and as usual, they destroy the slow rollicking soul-drenched beat, which provides a welcome respite from the ice-cold synths that dominate the album’s production.

Far from a classic, Hell Hath No Fury is one of the better hip-hop releases of 2006, though it can’t help but be analyzed in the context of its massive hype,which sadly it fails to live up to. Almost completely devoid of any sense of introspection, the album recycles stale cliches about the hustling life that you’ve probably heard on every rap album made since 1995. Indeed, neither rapper manages to assert any sort of individuality and one would be hard-pressed to say anything about its lyrical content other than: wow…these guys really like cocaine. Plagued by beats that range from brilliant to atrocious, the album lacks any sense of sonic consistency and despite the rapper’s prodigious rapping ability, flow alone doesn’t make a great rapper. Go ask Canibus. But all these things don’t really seem to matter, as it’s way past the tipping point and this album is sure to be regarded by most as one of the best of 2006. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a pair of Hush Puppies to go buy.

Rating: 7.3

Download:

Clipse: “We Got it 4 Cheap” (right-click, save as)

Clipse: “Keys Open Doors” (right-click, save as)

Go Read Other Hell Hath No Fury Reviews @

33 Jones

Byron Crawford

Just Sayin’

Straight Bangin

Posted in Album Reviews, Are You From the Lester Bangs School of Thought? | 12 Comments »

A Short Primer on How to Tell the Difference Between USC and Cal (Written at the USC-Cal Football Game)

Transcript of an actual conversation witness by me, between several USC students and two California Bear fans in the Los Angeles Memorial Colisseum parking lot following USC’s 23-9 victory.

USC Student: Ha!!Ha!!Ha!…our team fucking kicked your ass today. You guys suck.

Cal Student: Who cares? We have more Nobel Laureates than you do.

USC Student: Whatever your girlfriend’s fat. My girlfriend’s hot. You lose.

Cal Student: Yeah…congratulations dude, you’re an asshole.

Cal Student walks off with his girlfriend. As he does this, USC student hollers after him.

USC Student: I don’t even know what the fuck a nobel laureate is anyway!!

Other Signs of the Apocalypse:

1. A middle-aged Cal fan gets up and starts cheering wildly for the Bears. This is immediately met with boos from the other team. In response to the jeers, the Cal fan immiediately begins dancing with both fingers thrusted nerdily into the air. It looks like a twisted hybrid of the dance styling of Steve Urkel, Elaine “Dry Heave Set to Music” Benes, and Carlton Banks. He does not seem to understood why this is just not okay on several different levels.

2. At halftime, Cal’s marching band found it okay to play songs by both Missy Elliot and 50 Cent. I assume Pitchfork was behind this. theTonly thing that can top the twin atrocities of hearing “Work It” and “Candy Shop” on record is hearing it performed by a marching band.

3. Lastly, at half time, a USC fan is selected to attempt a 50-yard field goal. He strides confidently onto the field wearing sunglasses at night.

Collars up…sunglasses on…And Corey Hart is Ready to Party…Oh yeah!!!

Sadly, the USC student failed to live up the fine precedent for men wearing sunglasses at night, set by 80’s icon Corey Hart (who will forever remain a historical footnote to both Corey Haim and Corey Feldman in the annals of 80s “Corey” trivia). Running drunkenly towards the ball, the sunglass wearing frat boy punted it a mere 10 yards and way wild to the right. This proved once again why there are only three kinds of people allowed to wear sunglasses at night : rock stars, the blind, and blind rock stars.

Download:
Corey Hart: “Sunglasses at Night” (left-click)

The Round-Up

I don’t know how I haven’t mentioned it before, but Idolator’s weekly Pick of the Fork Contest is genius, particularly this week’s pick which proves that fact is always stranger than fiction.

The eternally quotable Jim Jones does an Q&A with All Hip-Hop. Among the gems contained are his Kingdom Come review: “I’d say that there were about two songs on it that were decent. It really wasn’t there for my n***as that be in the hood, hustlin?….I don’t care how old he is. And he talk about 30 is the new 20. but he’s 40. I’m 30, so who’s 20?…” In other news, I want to start writing a Jim Jones Farmer’s Almanac.

If you were ever wondered why modern hip-hop seems to use far less samples than it did during the golden age, this Slate article explains why. It traces the rise of companies known as “sampling trolls” and making things increasingly litigious.

The Onion Headline of the Week: New Mobile Device Purchase Makes Asshole More Versatile

In honor of the two year anniversary of his death, Slushy Gutter Summer looks at the Top 10 Moments of the life of ODB.

Lazy Daydream Rambler Lists His 10 Favorite Albums of the Decade (Thus Far)

Tina Fey is All Sorts of Awesome in my book. (via Fimoculous)

New Music Blog You Should Check For: Oceans Never Listen.

Posted in It Got Weird, Didn't It? | 3 Comments »

Beards, Blazers & Glasses or Will Someone Please Make Pharrell Retire From the Stage?

There are two kinds of legitimate artists. There are the all-time-greats capable of sustaining brilliance over a prolonged period of time. Such artists are led, not by the caprices of popular culture, but by their own innate artistic compass. Neil Young and Bob Dylan are perfect examples of such a genius, as they’ve transformed themselves again and again, not out of any sense of gimmickry, but out of true artistic evolution. The second type of artists are those who are blessed with a slim window of brilliance. During this window of brilliance, the musicians in question often blow up and become icons. This is usually the point when the wheels start to come off. For the duration of their careers, they are able to easily capitalize on their tremendous fame, but have nothing left to say or contribute. Their careers typically drift rudderless, lacking all sense of urgency and immediacy. Perry Farrell is this type of artist. Weezer also fits this bill, as does Oasis. And certainly, so does Pharrell.

From 1997-2001, it’s tough to argue that there were many better producers in hip-hop than the Neptunes. Starting with Mase’s “Lookin’ At Me,” their spaceship synths, futuristic snares and kick-the-door-down drums sounded like nothing hip-hop had ever heard. Over the next four years, The Neptunes dropped a flurry of classic beats: Jay-Z’s “The City is Mine,” and “I Just Wanna’ Luv U,” Noreaga’s “Superthug,” Ol Dirty Bastard’s “Recognize” and “Got Your Money,” Guru’s “All I Said,” Ludacris’ “Southern Hospitality,” Mystikal’s “Shake Ya’ Ass” and “Danger,” Jadakiss’ “Knock Yourself Out,” and Tha Liks “Best You Can.”

It’s not hard to pinpoint the end of this era, as it arrived on August 6th 2001, when the Neptunes dropped their N.E.R.D. album, making the pair bonafide superstars. Cue the precipitious decline. After the release of the NERD album, the Neptunes started making beats for artists as lame as Ray J, N’ Sync, Britney Spears, L’il Bow Wow, Nelly and Papa Roach. Sure, occasionally, the duo would make a good beat (usually for the Clipse) but for the most part, the Neptunes were just doing tired re-hashes of the sound that had made them famous. In short, they proved the rule that those who can’t adapt are forced to die.

Even Pharrell had to Make the Gas Face After Listening to His Solo Album

Oh, but that rule has little bearing in the world of popular culture and Pharrell has been able to coast for years on the goodwill he built up half a decade ago. Despite having exhausted the limited permuations of extraterrestrial beats that they could cook up and even less to say lyrically, Pharrell launched a solo album, In My Mind that even the Pharrell apologists couldn’t make excuses for. In short, it was a disaster of Hindenburg proportion.

But apparently no one told that to the promotors of the Samsung Blackjack party held at the Boulevard 3 nightclub on Monday, who booked Pharrell to entertain the very not-hip-hop crowd of celebrities, the people who love them and the people who smirked condescendingly in the corner at this toxic Hollywood cesspool (e.g. myself). Trust me, if you didn’t like his solo jaunt, it looked brilliant in comparison to his live show.

In Pharrell’s defense, he was playing a party, the majority of whom think the epitome of good hip-hop is Will Smith’s Big Willie Style album. (Gettin’ Jiggy with It anyone?) However, the performance was mailed in even by those standards. With eyes blood-shot red and squinting, a very stoned looking Pharrell took the mic and immediately asked the crowd who was “fucked up?” The crowd, filled mostly with dim-bulb barbies in high heels and the men who love them, went crazy. Figures.

Please God, I Don’t Ask You for Much…But Please Please Please Lemme Make Another Good Song Again

Pharrell then lit into two or three songs from In My Mind. For the life of me, I couldn’t tell you which ones. After giving that CD a cursory listening, I immediately deleted it from my computer, ran away screaming and bathed my ears in arsenic. It was fun. Pharrell’s live persona basically consisted of nothing more than standing arrogantly on-stage, face permanently cocked in an “I’m Better Than You” sneer and the occasional stoned holler to the audience. In person, his reedy falsetto sounded frail, as he hit all the high notes, but sounded off-kilter and disoriented.

But the most amazing part of the performance wasn’t that he somehow managed to make his In My Mind even worse than it sounded on wax. No, the amazing thing was that after about three of four songs, Pharrell just started played tracks that he’d produced and danced along with them. Few things seemed more ridiculous than watching him try to pull off, “I Just Wanna’ Luv U” without Jay-Z, “Shake Your Moneymaker” sans Ludacris, or “Drop It Like It’s Hot” with Snoop Dogg nowhere in sight. The crowd didn’t seem to know the difference though and continued braying like adulatory donkeys. It was all sorts of awful.

After about 30 minutes, I’d had enough and left. Some things are too much for even me. At that point, it wasn’t even worth laughing at, it was just boring and validated what I’ve thought for some time: at 33 years of age Pharrell is washed up. Sure, he might contribute the occasional decent beat, but the man needs to take cues from Dr. Dre and stay behind the production console where he belongs. At least, in my mind.

Download These Songs From When The Neptunes Were Actually Good

Noreaga: “Superthug” from N.O.R.E. (left-click)
Ol’ Dirty Bastard: “Recognize” from Nigga Please (left-click)

The Round-Up
Head over to Information Leafblower for the 2006 edition of the Best 40 Bands in America (as voted on by bloggers). I was asked to be a part of the list and it features several of my quotes. The list was restricted to American bands, because you know all of us bloggers get xenophobic like that (not really). The list isn’t neccesarily the 10 Best Bands in America but rather the 10 Best American Bands in 2006 alone. Therefore, bands that didn’t release albums this year (Spoon, Wilco first and foremost in my mind) didn’t rank as high as they probably will next year. The list was also intended to factor in how much a band toured and how good their live set was (this is why the Raconteurs ranked so high on my list). At any rate, if anyone was wondering my list was, here it is. Their actual Leafblower list ranking is in parentheses.

10. Voxtrot (20)
9. Comets on Fire (not ranked)
8. The Black Keys (not ranked)
7. Beirut (18)
6. Grizzly Bear (11)
5. The Decemberists (3)
4. The Raconteurs (not ranked)
3. My Morning Jacket (5)
2. Ghostface (4)
1. The Hold Steady (2)

If you still have time, I highly encourage everyone to check out 33 Jones and Dallas Penn’s reviews of the Jay-Z album. 33 Jones gives an eloquent defense of Kingdom Come while Dallas’ viewpoint effectively capsizes everything I could hope to have said and more. Both are excellent.

Lastly, Chuck Klosterman gave a great interview to the AV Club this week, reaffirming my faith in him after the slightly disappointing Klosterman IV.

Posted in Beards, Blazers, & Glasses | 11 Comments »

Beards, Blazers & Glasses or The 5 Reasons Why Bloggers (and non-bloggers) Should Like the Parson Redheads

Prior to the Internet, it seemed like Los Angeles rock bands never got their due. If you asked your average music fan what bands came from LA, most would’ve answered Guns N’ Roses and Beck. But over the past year, something seems to have changed as Los Angeles bands have won respectable national fan bases. Most notably, the Silversun Pickups, The Cold War Kids, and The Little Ones, have delivered solid records, no matter what your local condescending Internet tastemaker will have you believe. And without a doubt, these bands have blown up thanks in large part to the blog world, whose buzz has contributed to two of the three getting major label deals.

With that in mind, if I had to pick another Los Angeles band worthy of attention, I’d like to nominate The Parson Redheads. Transplants from Oregon, land of greenery, the Alpine Slide at Mt. Hood and cheaply priced marijuana, The Redheads have been building buzz for several months in Los Angeles with live performances quite unlike most bands that I’ve ever seen. Conveniently, this brings me to the first reason why bloggers (and non-bloggers) should like the Parson Redheads.

1. They Are an Excellent Live BandGranted, having a good live show does not make a great band. See Phish. However, both times I’ve seen the Parson Redheads perform, they’ve delivered dynamic live shows. Delivering a brand of Byrdsian and CSNY style jangly guitar pop and four-part harmonies, the Parsons combine a tight and polished sound with spontaneous bursts of manic energy, multiple tambourine players stomping around stage, dazzling guitar guitar pyrotechnics at all the right moments, pounding fierce drums, and whirling soothing keys. The songs themselves are a mix of warm and pleasant Sunday morning come downs and up-tempo “Mr. Soul-era” Buffalo Springfield romps. Plus, with eight people rocking out on-stage, the sound is always rich and vibrant and helps to turn their shows into a celebration. Despite there being no more than 30 people in the audience at last Monday’s Knitting Factory show, the band played with impressive enthusiasm and effort, managing to get all 30 people actively involved in the performance.

2. They Succesfully Walk the Line Between Gimmickry and Being Interesting
One could easily dismiss the Redheads as a gimmick. They go on-stage wearing all white. There are a whopping eight people on-stage at a time (though just six full-time band members). And like the Ramones, they have all taken the same last name. Accordingly, the band roster includes Parson Parson,Clicker Parson, Combat Parson, Slider Parson, Heavy Barrell Parson and Pony Roy Parson. This does not include the honorary Parsons listed on the band’s Myspace page, including 4 Ladies Parson, Sunshine Parson and Jumping Jack Parson.

However, by no strech of the imagination is this band a gimmick. When a band uniform is done right, it can set them apart from the pack and add to their iconography. See the White Stripes. Nothing about the Parson costume seems contrived. Considering that half the band is related to one another by blood or marriage, it gives them a family feel remiscient of the Danielson tribe. Their unique appearance and stage show makes them compelling live, and worth seeing multiple times. And their name makes a whole lot more sense when you see them in person, considering their sound is heavily influenced by Gram Parsons and several bandmates have red hair.

3. They Have Cute Girls

Bloggers like bands more when they have cute girls in them. I can’t argue with that logic. This is pretty much the only way that to explain the popularity of MIA and it helps one understand why Lily Allen got wildly popular. And unlike a lot of bands that just employ cute girls to shake the tambourine on-stage, the girls in the Parson Redheads can really play. Erin Way handles vocals and plays a very fine keyboard (and yes, the tambourine) while Clicker Parson (nee Brette Marie Gentry) is very capable on the drums and provides a great solid backbeat for the band’s infectious rhythms. And she also happens to look quite similar to the woman named Stereogum’s Miss Indie Rock 2005, Jenny Lewis.

No Word on Whether or Not Clicker Parson Was Actually in Troop Beverly Hills

4. They’re Rapidly Improving

Still young, the band’s sound is evolving rapidly. While this year’s Field Mouse Carnival EP is certainly solid, the new songs they’ve been testing out from their soon-to-be-released Yukon Records debut, King Giraffe sound leaps and bounds ahead of everything the band has done before. The new songs have increasingly complex yet loose structures, allowing for improvisation that has greatly aided their live show. In doing so, they have managed to retain a consistent and warm sound, steeped in lysergic-friendly 60’s nostalgia. While their lyrics are still a work in process, their simplicity suits the music well and will only improve as the band develops artistically.

5. They Won’t Be a Secret Much Longer

It’s okay guys, you can admit it. Deep down, everyone wants to like a band before they got big, so they can brag to their friends, “yeah…well, I saw them when there were only four people in the room and three of them were wearing horse outfits.” There’s no shame in it.

And rest assured, The Parson Redheads are one national tour away from breaking out bigtime. It’s hard to see them live and not walk away a believer. In fact, they might not even need a national tour to blow up, as their Free Monday night December residency at the Echo might be enough to greatly increase their profile.

The band has already started to get noticed in Los Angeles. You Set the Scene has already declared himself a big fan of the band and their live show. And if you read his blog, you know by now that Duke is pretty much always right. Don’t believe him? Then believe Blogging LA who have also given them a ringing endorsement. Either way, if you’re in LA, you should drag yourself to that December residency and see this band. And if you can’t, then you’ll just have to settle for these tracks from the Field Mouse EP.

The Parson Redheads on Myspace

Download:

The Parson Redheads: “Punctual as Usual” (right-click, save as)

The Parson Redheads: “Burning Up the Sky” (right-click, save as)

Posted in Beards, Blazers, & Glasses | 4 Comments »

Hipster Stylewatch: Animal Collective

I suppose I should have seen this coming, what with every band on earth seemingly copping some sort of animal-inspired name. Animal Collective, Modest Mouse, Mouse on Mars Sparklehorse, Band of Horses, Horse Feathers, We are Wolves, Wolf Parade, Wolf Eyes, AIDS Wolf and Wolfmother. And I’m sure there are about two dozen other animal bands I’m leaving out (Sheep Feathers, Sheepmother, We Are All Brainless Sheep). However, I can’t say that I expected the trend to cross over to the world of hipster fashion. But it has. Apparently.

You see last Saturday night, I made it out to the Jensen Rec Center in Echo Park to see a DJ set from Ninja Tune hip-hop instrumentalist, Blockhead. But instead of being soothed by his entrancing down-tempo breakbeats, I was aghast at the site of a man standing next to me with a large parrot perched on his left shoulder. He wasn’t talking to anyone really. Not even the parrot. Which I feel was a bit disappointing because if you have a parrot, you might as well get some mileage out of it and engage it in conversation. If nothing else to blow the minds of the crowd when he answers back. Did Polly want a cracker? I’m not sure. And truth be told, I would’ve liked to know.

Did parrot-man prophesize a new trend in hipster circles, with every hipster bringing some sort of strange animal accessory to the table? I wasn’t sure. However, I knew that if this was the case than I’d definitely be rocking a vest made of real gorilla chest. Or at the very least a sweater made from authentic Irish setter. What can I say, it’s just my C. Montgomery Burns steez.

No it wasn’t until Monday night during an outstanding Knitting Factory set from the Parson Redheads (to be reviewed tomorrow), when I realized how far this trend had gone.

A Horse is a Horse, of course, of course, And no one can talk to a horse, of course, that is, of course, unless the horse is the famous Mr. Hipster

You see for the duration of the bill, I was baffled by the sight of a hipster rocking out while wearing a horse outfit. Now in my mind, there are three reasons to wear a horse costume in public. 1) It’s Halloween 2) You Lost a bet 3) You’re at the Kentucky Derby. If you aren’t involved in any of those three activities than you shouldn’t be wearing a horse outfit. Period. I’m not sure what’s going on in the world of hipsters, though I can’t say I’m not intrigued.

Now I have nothing wrong with horses. I liked Mr. Ed, I liked The Horse Whisperer (not really), I even liked the Canadian mountie show, Due South. But donning the finest of equine fashion doesn’t make sense on any level.I imagine it’d be pretty difficult to pick-up a hipette while wearing a horse outfit, though I imagine one can make all sorts of dirty jokes about how well-endowed they are.

So it seems that dressing up like Black Beauty is in this Fall. Sure, beards, blazers and glasses will always be in fashion, but what to wear when you’re going out for the night on the town and want to impress others with your satorial flair? Look to the horse, my friends. Look to the horse. Of course.

Download:
The Doors: “Horse Latitudes” from Strange Days (left-click)

PJ Harvey: “Horses in My Dream” from Stories From the City, Stories From the Sea (left-click)

The Round-Up

First off, Go vote for Gerard Vs.Bear who is currently nominated for a Plug Award for Music Blog of the Year. Seriously. Do it.

Apparently, the Ghostface/MF Doom album is actually going to happen, according to this update on the Wu’s Homepage.No release date has been set.

Advanced Theory details exactly how advanced Val Kilmer is. The answer: very much so. Apparently, Kilmer is collaborating with Lou Reed on an album.

This post from Skeet on Mischa proves why he might be the most dead-on blogger out there. In just a few hundred words, he declares Spencer Krug the best songwriter of his generation, the Knife overrated, and predicts the future of Kevin Federline. While still finding time to make Jim Jones references.

Speaking of Jimmy, Ian Cohen delivers a predictably excellent review of Hustler’s POME.

Stylus gets Pharoahe Monch to sit down for an interview.

Go to Floodwatch Music to get an incredible mixtape featuring vintage Meth, Red, Afu-Ra, Big Pun, Jeru the Damaja, among many others.

If you’re into mixtapes, add the Foundtrack to your bookmarks, a new website that posts free and mixtapes every month. This month features tracks from everyone ranging from The Shins, Benoit Pioulard, and J Dilla.

Don’t know how many of my readers have read John Updike’s brilliant and rather disturbing Rabbit Run book. But either way go to NY/NZ to read a hilariously accurate account of its many strengths and weaknesses.

And last but definitely not least, find time to check for 33 Jones, an always entertaining hip-hop blog that has been killing it of late.

Posted in It Got Weird, Didn't It? | 5 Comments »