I would play this in my basement if I were raising moths
I played this at my vacuum cleaner's funeral.
This music is appropriate for a shop that only sells like owl figurines and one human skull.
This is like waking up at 3am because you are hungry. So you head to the kitchen, and find out a giant insect already sticking some marmalade between two slices of bread. The insect offers the sandwich to you, as a sign of respect. You take a bite out of it, and start crying tears of joy. It's a beautiful sandwich, and the winter is coming to an end
honestly "Hands to Myself" from her last album is one of the best pop singles of the decade IMO simply because it knows exactly what its intent is -- namely, being a catchy, relatively spartan take on the "you're sexy, so am I... ;)" concept -- and doesn't try to be anything more or less than that, and it works
It's kinda weird to me that people blame Peter Gabriel's departure on Genesis going pop, given that the shift only seems to have happened after Steve Hackett left and Gabriel ALSO got poppier after he left Genesis.
Sincere opinion that is insufficiently common: For all their Dada provocations, the actual music Bull of Heaven made was frequently really, really good.
6. Once some time has passed, say you like a modern guitar-pop band. Now people will think they've caught you: After all, wasn’t the whole template of pop rock constructed largely by the Beatles? Isn’t there a Beatles song that more or less invented whatever modern guitar-pop band you like? Blow their minds by acting unconcerned. What kind of car do they drive? There would be no Toyota Camry without the Model T, but how often do you feel like driving a Model T to work?
Ma$e, probably best known for his feature on "Mo' Money Mo' Problems" by Biggie (though make no mistake he had quite a few hits, both solo and with others), returned from 2000s New York Rapper No Man's Land to respond to a diss that Cam'ron (also very much someone in that same place) made on his latest mixtape
Wipers' box set changes the track order for the Youth of America disc, playing side B before side A. (The original order, for reference.) It's interesting. "No Fair" works surprisingly well as an opening track, with its slow burn of an intro becoming a dramatic intro to the whole thing. And "When It's Over makes for a good end song; it helps that it's my favorite on the album. Yet I can't help but call this new track order a step backwards, because "Youth of America" was a perfect ending song, and it just feels out of place as track 2.
The like "classic album review" thing is actually a good concept but they usually review records that the critic in question, uh, likes.
Sublime are a band with a lot of problems, but they're not a 5.anything, and the fact that the writing here seems so weirdly....hurt? I don't know a better word for what I'm looking for, by a guy who's been dead for 20 years, is so, so bizarre. I'd call it a hit piece if A) the term had not acquired terrible connotations by now and B) the subject of the hit was not dead for 20 years. And it's not like "Sublime were a bad band" is a particularly brave stance, if anything I'd say they're one of those bands that at this point has a larger hatebase than a fanbase (although Sublime w/ Rome still sells records so I dunno), so I'm mostly just like....confused? I was mad initially cuz I actually kind of like Sublime (though again, a band with a lot of problems) but most of the things in the review aren't even actually wrong per se, just so, well I'm talking in circles now but the tone and the just, general existence of the review make no sense to me.
A track from an album I like (The Holy City Is Empty by Thugwidow and Sangam) ended up on Resident Advisor after I first listened to said album. I think this means I've somehow stumbled into being cool?
For decades, rock and roll was fueled by the same greed for cultural capital that now powers the hip-hop generation. You don’t always get that impression reading the rock history books; critics have long focused inordinately on the rabble-rousers who gathered outside the gates of castles constructed by purveyors of commercial decadence and Middle American ubiquity, and cheered as these artists waved their pitchforks at mass consumer culture while asserting their autonomy from it. Rock history is written by the losers, in other words, which is why the importance of insurgents is overstated while the people inside the castles — the rich and famous rulers of middle-of-the-road rock and roll — are disregarded or flat-out ignored.
[...]
Even today, the archetype is so fixed and commonplace as to be thunderously obvious: Long-haired men in tight pants, playing crushingly loud music on guitars and drums in front of tens of thousands of people, and held upright by groupies, mounds of blow, and the luxury of deluxe tour buses and multimillion-dollar record contracts.
And yet this archetype has all but disappeared from pop culture. “Mainstream rock” barely exists anymore. To understand how we got to this point, we’re not going to learn anything by examining for the umpteenth time how the Velvet Underground invented alternative music, or watching all of the approximately 214 documentaries on punk, or talking to Ian MacKaye about why Fugazi never sold T-shirts at shows. What we need instead is a Winners’ History of Rock and Roll that tells the stories behind some of the biggest bands of all time. If we can learn how and why those bands became popular, and what those stories tell us about a larger narrative taking place in American culture over more than 40 years, we can track the fissures and failures that eventually caused rock to slouch toward irrelevance — and determine whether it can (or should) wage a comeback.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to notice that the hidden track at the end of Secret Chiefs 3's album Book M is just the guitar drone from the second half of "Hagia Sophia", separated from all the drum-n-bass bits.
It's been 11 years, but Sufjan and Alec Duffy are finally releasing "The Lonely Man of Winter" in a format where you no longer have to go to some guy's house in New York just to listen to it.
The other day, I saw a First Generation Gothmobile in the Walmart parking lot. It was a black SUV with black tinted windows. And the rear windows had stickers for Joy Division, Depeche Mode, The Cure, and The Smiths. They were completely black stickers; you could only see them because they were a different sort of glossy than the black windows.
Comments
It also samples the bassline from "Psycho Killer", for bonus points.
Grant Hart is dead.
first new meat beat manifesto album in almost a decade, coming out in early January
the new Seeming album is still AOTY btw
Even today, the archetype is so fixed and commonplace as to be thunderously obvious: Long-haired men in tight pants, playing crushingly loud music on guitars and drums in front of tens of thousands of people, and held upright by groupies, mounds of blow, and the luxury of deluxe tour buses and multimillion-dollar record contracts.
And yet this archetype has all but disappeared from pop culture. “Mainstream rock” barely exists anymore. To understand how we got to this point, we’re not going to learn anything by examining for the umpteenth time how the Velvet Underground invented alternative music, or watching all of the approximately 214 documentaries on punk, or talking to Ian MacKaye about why Fugazi never sold T-shirts at shows. What we need instead is a Winners’ History of Rock and Roll that tells the stories behind some of the biggest bands of all time. If we can learn how and why those bands became popular, and what those stories tell us about a larger narrative taking place in American culture over more than 40 years, we can track the fissures and failures that eventually caused rock to slouch toward irrelevance — and determine whether it can (or should) wage a comeback.