duck, duck, soundclash

i'm looking at the water by the harborside near the torpedo factory in alexandria and listening to 'street gospels' by bedouin soundclash. waiting for my sister after hebrew school, it's hilarious to crank up some ridiculous 80s popshit on the car radio and watch through the synagogue's large transparent social hall windows the post-menopausal women doing jazzercise, unknowingly in sync with the beat of the tune on the radio. This may seem like I've sidetracked but that anecdote has a point. Just like the bubbling cellulite of the old ladies' aerobic class jiggled in tune with the rhythm of gems like 'safety dance,' looking at the water, it ripples in time with the smoothness of the soundclash album. As much as I love the simplistic video for 'When the Night Feels my Song,' the epitome of a great visual for the song would be a trippy blend of Windows visualizer projected onto flowing water.

the next thing i'm about to say sounds like i'm stoned but i'm actually not. there's this duck who looks incredibly lost and has paced back and forth in front of me a good 15 times in the past half hour. i wish we knew if animals could appreciate music like we do - - interruption: 16 times now and the duck is walking in time with 'jealousy and the get free.' back on topic, maybe if this ocd duck could soak in this album he mellow the fuck out. and as i look out more onto the shimmery water with the glow of christmas lights reflecting on the surface, i retract what i said about needing a visualizer as part of the aesthetic for a soundclash music video. it would, however, be cool to see jay malinowski's reflection as he croons all buttery about shelter, trinco dog, and nico on the night train.

me & julio & simon & garfunkel down by the schoolyard

i don't understand how i never realized what a chill motherfucker paul simon is. and apparently he wasn't the asshole of simon&garfunkel but infact the funk-man commissioned paul to write songs while he did whatever the fuck he wanted. interesting. makes you think - which is more impressive: a better voice and no song-writing capabilities or a decent voice and lyrical genius? considering paul simon's voice is better than decent i might have decided that he's the better half of s&g, even though art garfunkel has a sick jew fro. paul simon gets even more points for mentioning how he "lit up his j," further confirming mrs. miller's suspicions that the folksy duo adorning anita's album cover in almost famous were "on pot."

right now i'm listening to the g-funkel cover "waters of march." it's delicious. i used to listen to it every night before i went to sleep [definitely already sang praises of his covers album "breakaway" but i'll mention it again, as here i am with insomnia and listening to my old favorite].

i'm hardly embarassed that i'm blasting flounder's mash-ups [people in the 703/dc area get it] in my basement while i write my first post in almost 3 months. it's some "hard rock" remix of "get back" by luda. i don't get ludacris. he always sounds so angry, screaming all the shit he feels necessary to enforce, but then you listen to the lyrics and they're filled with jokes. it just brings me to another anchorman reference - i don't know what we're yelling abouttt!! angry for the sake of being angry? sounds like it to me.

another bullet to my rhcp list - i think it's why they're amazing, and if not that's what it is now:
- harmonies like that on "savior." the chilis are lucky enough to have two extremely talented vocalists, so it's no coincidence that their songs layering tony and john's voices are some of their better ones.

and now is when i turn off flounder's mash-ups and opt for last.fm radio - "dance, dance" by one of those band of effeminate tools that i believe is fall out boy.

so what's been up? i'm no longer with feed your head on wtbu, since i've taken an indefinite leave of absence from bu. the show's given me alot, aside from introducing me to the dopest co-djs i could have asked for. in fact, that's why i'm probably leaving bu - in pursuit of djing. it just makes more sense considering if i was a journalist people would be telling me how to write and i hate that shit.

in keeping with the ADDness of this post, i'm moving on to my latest discovery [well actually anna's] : the vitamin string quartet. they cover everything with a full orchestral arrangement from coldplay to tool to ac/dc but i'm especially enjoying some of their incubus covers, "amber" and also their extremely dramatic interpretation of "another brick in the wall."

old school?

after having a brief conversation with my mom about her everlasting love for the falsetto shits that are the mael brothers, i realized something: people will always crave the music they loved as teenagers. this may not be much of a revelation but it made me think about how a fraction of the collegiate set will wonder why their grandparents listen to such old shit [ie. frank sinatra, tony bennett, etc.] the truth is, music is one of the greatest memory joggers. thus, the path to the fountain of youth is listening to that song that was playing when you got all dressed up to go to a club in feeble attempts to catch the eye of some cool guy who wasn't there for the same reasons as you. even though said idealistic behavior probably only ended in a night with the girls, you'll still have that song.

yet hopefully this theory will not apply itself to the present, because if i have to hear anymore shit like the audiotrash that was playing at club crona yesterday night, i might have to pretend i'm 60 and reminisce about the tune that was playing during my fling with sunflower at woodstock.

in the world of life in boston, lauren and my show starts on monday septermber 8, 12 am to 2 am. and i may wrangle myself an internship with a classic rock station local to the area.

this is fucked up

I first learned about radiohead during a one-night tryst with a strung-out kurt cobain look-a-like named tucker a couple of summers ago. It was trippy, we were fucked up, and thus, I liked it. I didn’t really get into the band until senior year of highschool, though, when I went through a phase of listening to my Radiohead/Thom Yorke sleeping mix (making sure to leave out “myxamatosis” and “fitter happier”) every night when I went to bed. I plastered Thom Yorke’s fucked up looking mug, contorting itself into bizarre faces, lazy eye and all, all over my walls and played “Talk Show Host” on repeat until my brain until the beginning chords started to echo in my brain over and over like in the DVD menu for Romeo + Juliet.

This mania is what lead me to discover Yorke’s solo project “the eraser,” which merits a spot in my not-yet-existent “Top 10” of albums I most enjoy. Is it mainstream electronica? Maybe. But when have you heard single “Black Swan” on the radio? The answer is never because it repeats “this is fucked up” 200+ times, which, in itself is kindof fucked up. It’s fucked up that Thom has the audacity to think that he could just make an empty exclamation like that for shock value and have it widely accepted as a great song. But just like “kids with guns,” the lyrics mean a whole lot of nothing but listening to the overall track is a mind-blowing experience.

Which leads me to Primal Scream, Radiohead for potheads. You may ask, “isn’t radiohead for potheads already?” but you won’t understand what I’m saying until witnessing how “higher than the sun” maxes out on trippy potential. Just like Mickey Av, they’re a group of artists I need to know/hear/experience more of.

so i bust a nut in the sky

Mickey Avalon only proves my theory of how cracked out guys who go to Hebrew school become. I have no proof that Avalon received a Jewish education but one can just assume he’s a fan of the matzah ball soup since he was born Yeshe Perl. Back to my theory – about 90% of the dudes who went to my classes at Olam Tikvah turned out burned out. And have dreads and walk around my neighborhood blazed out of their fuckin’ minds – okay, that just one specific example, but another one, who I actually was a camp counselor at the JCC with, is now a dealer.

So this “Jews gone wild” complex must have reached Avalon, whose mouth is a veritable landfill of profanity and sexual expletives. Not that I’m complaining. In fact, I write this out of curiosity towards what his material outside of the three singles of his I have is like. From what I can gather, the rest of his work will prove to be nymphomaniacal filth produced with narcotically catchy background beats. That seems to be a given.

Hate to mention Degrassi again, but I once had a conversation with Rebecca and Alicia aboot (spelling intended) how the Canadian melodrama is gradually becoming tapped dry of ways to push the envelope. Rape? Happened twice – once sober, once roofied. Teen pregnancy? Three times – one abortion, one adoption, one seized by child services for being at a “my folks are away for the weekend, byob” – type party at her illegitimate, douchebag father’s. I’ll let you do the work and youtube The Degrassi Song for a basic synopsis of the hyperbolically emotional, shittily written fluff that makes that show (insert sarcastically positive adjective in Canadian slang here).

But I’ve sidetracked – the point I’m trying to stress here is not that all jews become fuck-ups or that Degrassi may be the most addictive waste of time on this side of the meridian. My query – what topic is too sacred for Mickey Avalon to bruise with that septic waste tank he spews raps from? Are there boundless frontiers of abrasive debauchery, waiting to be explored by the self proclaimed “kosher salami?” Maybe once I’ve actually listened to a complete Mickey Av album, I will finally know the answer to these pressing inquiries.

i love it when balls are in my face.

i can’t listen to coldplay without hearing the “you know how i know you’re gay?” dialogue between seth rogen and paul rudd in the 40 year old virgin in my head. that said, i’m really trying to be open minded with viva la vida. we’ll see how that goes.