Ultimately, this was a pretty decent show. Nothing especially awful or awesome, but ultimately decent.
But then, you're probably not going to listen to it, right?
Apologies. We're just a little bitter, honey.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
REVIEW BATTELS.
I'll probably explain the punch ratings in detail someday when people are actually reading this (OH SHIT IMPOSSIBLE!!!), but suffice to say it is based off how many times I want to punch the band when I'm done listening to the album.
It really is up in the air whether I'll still do this, since it seems a little mean to unknown bands to just be putting their shit down. Besides that, it's way more fun to mock famous bands. Hm.
Goner - Rock 'N' Roll Always Forgets:
You will learn to absolutely hate the little synth they've got going on here. The singer has that faux-aggressive male indie singer sound down to a T-R-A-N-S-G-E-N-D-E-R. The title track plays an aggressively forgettable indie punk sound, like the Sex Pistols drinking half a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon and keying my car when I tell them they are way too fucking old to be playing shit like that, which they fucking are.
It might be because I normally like synthy and punk music, but the less Goner relies on absolutely raping these tropes, the more I like them. "Winter Pagaent" might be a possible exception, as the synth creates a retarded prog vibe that I like despite everything else. Seriously, it's kind of incredible that I like the slower songs better, but Goner fucks up the basic simplicity of the punk sound so badly that their mewling wimpy bitching about things is more punk than their actual punk.
In the end, it's kind of sad that there aren't more songs like "Jersey Boy," which while being a completely derivative acoustic noodling, has a sort of stupid charm to it. Of course, part of that charm is lost in the following track, "An Island's Worth of Avenues," which in addition to making no sense, features some really really bad singing, like the other bandmates secretly recorded the singer's grotesque Bono impression. Of course, the band's myspace page totally features the songs I hated, while leaving "Jersey Boy" and "Winter Pageant" out of the mix. Pft and double pft.
PR: 29, plus like 10 more if their reaction to this review would be "WELL I DON'T SEE YOU STARTING A BAND," because these totally look like the kind of band that would do that.
The Art of Walking - The Art of Walking
Man, this band already had the cards stacked against it when I realized that their name had two options:
1) They stole the title from Pere Ubu's album of the same name.
2) They didn't even bother to check whether their TOTALLY ORGINAL name was taken.
Listening to this, it's pretty obvious that option 2 is correct, as there is no way this band was planning to connect itself to Pere Ubu, unless it was some sort of evil plan. While Pere Ubu played some hell of good experimental post-punk, this band's shit is the equivalent of white bread with a little bit of sugar on it: Edible, but completely fucking worthless in every sense of the word.
Art of Walking is actually a one-man band, which pretty well reveals the problem of one man bands: no one is around to tell you that maybe your dramatic voice swell sounds more like bad early 90's videogame voiceacting than whatever dull little skip of the heart you were looking for.
I might be a little cruel to these guys. After all, I probably couldn't tell the difference between these guys and your typical Jack Johnson slush, and I doubt most fans of the latter could with the proper post-production. But you know what? Fuck you, Art of Walking. Every time I listen to Dub Housing or hipster-dance to Nonalighnment Pact, I'm going to be reminded of why the term "singer-songwriter" fills me with a vague feeling of distress.
PR: 83.
The Mommyheads - You're Not a Dream:
Every single thing I heard about this album could be summarized as "boy it is catchy." And I won't deny this. Maybe it's listening to this after hours of TOTALLY CHALLENGING INDIE POP, but it was pleasing stuff.
Still, there's something sort of mechanical about the sound that was omnipresent in most 90's low-end indie acts. I can't describe it because I don't really care, but it's the same kind of paint-by-numbers hooks that you saw in quasi-underground stuff like Harvey Danger and Nada Surf, but the latter bands were able to more successfully hide the basic formula. As a result, Mommyheads just sort of bleeds out of the headphones, pleasing no doubt, but also pretty indistinguishable, the kind of band no one really will hate, but only because it reminds them of better bands.
The CD is pretty much rearranged 90's material, and holy christ it shows. Still, as long as you're willing to accept the almost-total derivative nature of the band's pop, it's worth a listen. I say almost as "Washing Machine," which the band wisely included on their myspace page, is strangely compelling.
PR: 21, and a box on the ears with a CD version of "Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?"
Sparkle Death Die! Session #05: Low-fi Gremlins
Part I (Includes .rtf and .m3u versions of the playlist, along with midpoint song: Your 33 Black Angels' "It's Good to be Alive.")
These files are hosted on Mediafire, which while having pop-ups, is superior for several reasons:
1) You should really have some sort of pop-up blocker, or just be used to this shit, at this point on the internets.
2) Download speeds on mediafire are unbelievably fast, especially compared with the STD-infected behemoth known as Rapidfire.
3) User statistics, baybee.
I've saved the files with winRAR, so you'll also need to download that to save your soul. BUT ENOUGH SHOPTALK, SERIOUSLY.
This was an awkward show, as I had absolutely no playlist set up for various unrelated reasons, so it was mostly songs I knew intimately, or songs that I knew would not have any sort of FCC-incompatable language. As a result, it's a fairly consistent mix of peppy pop and somewhat darker, though not throw-your-face-in-concete kind of way.
The real fun was, after 4 shows of relatively few mechanical problems, I had two fairly embarrasing screw-ups. The first happened due to the previous DJ turning off the volume control for the microphone when he left, so after the first song, you'll hear about a minute of completely dead silence, which was actually me giving my best show opening ever. Of course, once I saw the volume knob at the bottom, my actual heard opening was BALAGHAGH WELCOME TO SHOW ME KING RETARD.
The second fuckup is near the end of the second part, where I accidentally double-clicked on a random song while Mother Mother's "Body" was playing. Thankfully, the song pretty much sounds exactly the fucking same all the way through, so besides introducing the next song in the same way that 8-year-old New Heaven Salesman wandered on stage, five minutes before his cue in a skunk costume, there wasn't much bad going on.
I put many, many guilty pleasures in this mix:
Adam and the Ants (80's guilty pleasure ranger!)
Santa Dog (Sounds like an indie video game guilty pleasure ranger!)
The Brilliant Green (J-pop weenie guitar guilty pleasure ranger!)
Spoon (Generic ploppy indie pop guilty pleasure ranger!)
Kay Kay and His Weathered Underground (Fey crap that drama majors listen to guilty pleasure ranger!)
Avalanches (though I think most music elitists would accept these guys into their house without putting a bag over their drum kit AND YES I KNOW THE AVALANCHES DON'T ACTUALLY HAVE A DRUMMER guilty pleasure ranger!)
All right, that's about it. Coming up will be some album reviews, which means Punch Ratings.
What's a punch rating?
IT'S VERY INTERESTING, trust me.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
but seriously, kid kids.
This blog is all about my pathetic little radio show, Sparkle Death Die!, hosted on WLUR 91.5 in Lexington, Virginia every Friday from 10-midnight.
So, what is Sparkle Death Die! all about?
Well, I'll be honest. It's about impressing women. I want to impress women, internet. All men do, but my way is special and watched eagerly by my superiors. I will do this by playing a schitzoid mix of music each week, some happy, some hardcore, some grown from the ruins of my disasterous infatuation with Japan back when I was young and naive and not completely blase to everything but sensory deprivation. There will also be whatever else I think sounds cool. My taste is the essential blackguard against interlopers, meaning you fools will never hear me play Radiohead, but I'm just waiting for the perfect moment to spring Jamiroquai on all of you.
This will work. I promise.
This blog will serve several purposes:
I will talk about Sparkle Death Die!'s gradual development.
I will post complete recordings of the show every week, along with playlists, musings, and all the other things that no one should even vaguely care about.
I'll occasionally post musings on music and culture in general. Note that "musings" does not mean 3,000 words dickpulls about IMPORTANT THINGS, but more of WOW I LIKE AMON TOBIN DESPITE MYSELF BUT I STILL HATE CRYSTAL CASTLES SO GOOD FOR ME.
I'll be posting the fifth session of Sparkle Death Die! tommorrow, and probably then starting from the beginning.
exciting and newwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwWWWWWWWWFUCKTHEWORLD
SUP BITCHES
YEAH I'VE GOT A MUSIC BLOG NOW
OH SHIT WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO
WAIT PUT THE GUN DOWN OH GOD
FUCK I KNOW YOU DIDN'T MEAN TO SHOOT MY CAT
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