≈ Narduwar is likely the best rap journalist around. Hilarity obviously ensues.
≈ Narduwar is likely the best rap journalist around. Hilarity obviously ensues.
I’d offer a late pass, but I don’t think it needs to be invoked when most of the music compiled is three decades old. House Shoes, ambassador of all things Detroit, drops a mix full of Motor City soul legend Dennis Coffey. A MoTown session man extraordinaire, the tape blends original material and the rap… Continue reading »
Thom Yorke Live DJ Set @ Low End Theory LA 3.9.11 from Theo Jemison on Vimeo. Footage of Thom Yorke’s infamous excursion to the Low End Theory courtesy of Theo Jemison. I’m unsure what the utility is for those who weren’t there, but it’s nice that it was preserved beyond wobbly YouTube clips. If you… Continue reading »
Because who isn’t a fan of Sidney “El Sid” Moncrief? The Jon Konkak Mediocre White Rapper Award: Mac Miller Upending 35 years of time honored tradition, the stigma to being a mediocre white rapper has vanished. Somewhere in dirty Jerse, Milkbone plots a comeback, and I wonder if any of these kids will turn in… Continue reading »
Mar
22
Another one from the archives. Circa 2008 vintage. RIP Nate Dogg. 1. Not being just any geek off the streets How To Avoid Being A “Geek Off the Streets: Learn how to how be to handy with the steel and earn your keep. Best Models to Emulate: Gay steel workers, Andrew Carnegie, Iron Man 2.… Continue reading »
Abe Beame didn’t even need to make a Chris Isaak joke. Abel Tesfaye and Jeremy Rose are an indie rock-influenced R&B outfit from Toronto who call themselves The Weeknd. If this wasn’t bad enough, they’ve just released an obnoxiously promoted demo called House of Balloons. Yes, for those under the impression they’re listening to a… Continue reading »
New and final flyer. This Friday @ The Echoplex. $10. Refunds guaranteed if the orchestra turns out to be actually mortal.
Mar
21
Photo of Hannibal Moncrief’s girlfriend. Content may be scarce for the next 12 hours or so, while I smoke sativa in my hyperbolic chamber while listening to Joe Chambers. Or not. Deadlines, exhaustion, and a desire to be the world’s greatest Sorry! player may preclude me from getting around to writing anything more for this… Continue reading »
Douglas Martin is completely willing to be The Strokes’ Billy Preston. I. A decade ago– almost to the day– a pack of skinny, preternaturally good-looking white boys were unknowingly given the task of “saving rock ‘n roll”. Wearing messy hair, vintage duds, and nonchalance that approached radioactive levels, The Strokes were touted as the band–… Continue reading »
Sabina Tang skipped the Kanye secret show and Perez Hilton’s party in order to file this. Thus, she will be forever ignorant of the wonders of Cyhi the Prince and liquid cocaine boogers drawn on Kid Cudi. I’LL NEVER TRUST THOSE THINGS AGAIN So you may have heard: the overhead camera, boom and all, fell… Continue reading »