Saturday, July 26, 2008


"You're daddy moved out," Came my mother's rattled drawl as I descended the stairs on Saturday morning. "All his stuff's gone." Being only five years old, my thoughts weren't on the following days, or the days prior. I didn't think about the fighting, nor the tears, nor the fact that my mother's heart must be consistency of the the strawberry jam she spread on my toast every Sunday morning and served with eggs. I ran directly to my dad's record player declaring that he'd "better not have taken my music!" Sleeved and sitting a-top was Wheels are Turnin' by R.E.O. Speedwagon containing "our song," I can't Fight This Feeling-- A strange song for a father and daughter, but to me was just a memory of mid-afternoon dances on top of my pop's feet.  That record stared back at me with assurance that he'd be back for me-- a promise we'd have another dance.

I spent many years after that listening to that old stereo in my Laura Ashley decorated bedroom, hopping around to the American Graffiti soundtrack. Finally, one day it disappeared, most likely around the time I realized it didn't play CD's. The Laura Ashley lilacs were replaced with paint my mother likened with the color of snot, and magazine cut-outs of Beck Hansen, and Kurt Cobain. Teenagers, sheeez!

Post-high school, I scooped up all of my musical affections, and realized I wanted my records and my record player too. Upon moving to NYC, I had my mom ship my/her/my dad's old turntable to me, specifying that she needed to provide proper cushioning and wrapping for each little piece. Well, my mom's no dummy, but she is busy-- so of course, the damn thing ended up at my door in knots and bits. Unusable! I was brokenhearted, and refused to throw it away for years.

Good news though! Today I picked up a whole stereo system off Craig's List with the following:

1. Rotel RX-403 Stereo Receiver
2. Technics Turntable SL-BD20D
3. Sherwood Double Tape Deck (Circa 1984)
4. Equalizer (But doesn't matter because we're not using it.)

FOR the grand total of (Drum roll, music dorks.) 20 BUCKS!


Thursday, July 24, 2008

Oooh Bernadette, You are so Expensive!

Today I spent the majority of the day jamming out to Black Sabbath, eating Vietnamese food, and occasionally squealing after this young lady.

(Of course, there was some worky stuff too. Sheesh.)


Wednesday, July 23, 2008

The Big Sleazy

MASS Meat-ia

The new Bust is out with a couple music reviews I wrote in it.

Here are the unedited versions:

Dark Meat- Universal Indians

Vice Records' most recent addition, Dark Meat is a band sure to be likened to the Polyphonic Spree on acid or maybe David Koresh's flock with instruments. This Athens, GA based gaggle of gypsies boasts seventeen members, some of whom live in a communal 100 acre eco-village called Orange Twin, which could lead to some cultish misconceptions. Cult or not, the product of their mass codependency is pretty magical on debut Universal Indians. Heavy metal guitars are countered by male-female gospel vocals, while a full brass band plays between big band and free jazz styles on oh-so-poetically named "Assholes for Eyeballs;" Sticking with the ocular theme, "Three Eyes Open" sees the band taking a soulful blues trip, before vocalist Jim McHugh launches into "One More Trip, a Mick Jagger-esque foot-stomper. If two's company, and three's a crowd, then from the sound of Dark Meat, seventeen is a full on raging family style dinner fiesta. So, gather round the table y'all, and take a big ol' healthy bite

Indian Jewelry- Free Gold!
It's tough to be an experimental psychedelic noise electro-punk collective these days what with the name changes, rotating members, and myriad influences. Man, do they have a lot of influences! Luckily, Houston's Indian Jewelry settled on a name (after trying on 3 or 4), and released their third effort Free Gold just as the mainstream ear is getting comfortable with a little eccentricity, and electronic blips are climbing all over the charts. The group (consisting of three key members, and around twenty contributors) zig-zag their way through each experiment with spacey synths, strings, horns, repetitive non-sensical lyrics, and spirit conjuring tribal beats, concluding the job with nearly 8 minutes of fuzzy distortion, and piano banging certain to satisfy aging and newbie Suicide fans alike. While Indian Jewelry grope at the hippie dippy, space case-y, and the just plain noisy, their originality falls short, but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery and Free Gold is (for the most part) flattering to the ear.

Pick up the mag for visits with the band Ponytail, photos from the private collection of the Bouvier Beale family (not seen in Grey Gardens), and more and more and more...

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Back On 'Easy Street'

I've been on hiatus for the past couple weeks due to my aforementioned unemployment broke-ass breakdown crisis, etc. But now I'm back in business with a new job, staring at a computer for 8 hours a day. Oh, I also went on vacation too. 

Anyway, until I think of more to talk about than myself, check out my buddy Sean's new project that he has cooked up with his special lady. 

S/S FRIENDS is a label based out of Cobble Hill, Brooklyn dedicated to
runs of "seasonally specific" clothing items. Namely, swim trunks and
knit hats. Run by a designer and a musician, the line is heavily
informed by what's on the stereo and will often see new
collections paired with special music releases. Hello, soundtrack!
After years of making clothes at home, the couple officially took
their designs outside the house in 2008. They are indebted to friends,
family and the clothes that aren't being made.

Inaugural package includes Original Trunks, Easy Street 7", Soundwagon record player, Summer Reading 'zine, badges, sunscreen and other goods. Enjoy a summer's worth of S/S FRIENDS. Web orders only.

-Original Trunks
Simple and classic style. Trunks constructed out of a breathable cotton/canvas that's both durable and quick drying. Our sidewalk surf trunks are designed for the streets and the beach. All pairs made in the USA. Not meant for the dryer. "Hang dry, Hang loose."

-S/S Friends Easy Street 7"
Dust off your record players 'cause we've got vinyl. "Easy Street" (b/w "Act So Casual") is a weird and winning study of early reggae styles and recording techniques.

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Rain, White, and Blue

Model Foreign Policy

I mentioned my friend about a month or so ago who is currently living the fabulousmodellifestyle in Taipei.

She just created a site with some videos documenting her time that are really beautiful, and sometimes heartwrenching. I seriously recommend checking them out.

All photos by Shea Prueger

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

King Khan Can Can

After unfortunately missing Sam Champion's performance at the Prospect Park Bandshell Friday night, I toughed it out through Elvis Perkins' and the Cold War Kids' sets whilst enjoying a store bought picnic and the flitter of lightning bugs and small children scurrying by wearing glowstick necklaces. Had the music not been such a whinefest, I might have gotten confused and started tossing my own invisible globe or something--but then I remembered, I wasn't on ecstasy either.  Ah shucks. 

Following the show, I wiped the sleep (and tears) from my eyes and mustered up the energy to jet to Bushwick where King Khan and the Shrines were performing at Don Pedro's. I had been dying to see King Khan-- more so with "the BBQ"-- but King Khan with anyone is guaranteed a good show, so I booked it to get there.

Having no qualms about gimmicks, King Khan hits the stage dressed as something of a Rick James/Bootsy Collins love-child, wearing an egyptian headdress, gold cape, and nothing but some sort of necklace made of teeth, and a pair of black scivvies underneath. Khan's backing band consists of drums, brass, keys, guitars, and a pom pom girl, who spews 60's soul-infused psychedelia into a crowd of extremely drunk early 20-somethings. It's 2am in Don Pedros, and it seems that these kids have been hitting the tequila pretty hard. Khan fights to blurt out some James Brown-esque melodies over the brass band's squeaks and squawks in the tiny back room, while the kids thrash their heads and pogo about like it's a punk show. I sense some unrest in a slurring gentleman in red beside me who keeps trying to get on stage, ultimately halting the performance. He gets pulled down and a little violent. I tell him to relax. He tells me I'm cute, then squeezes me hard before telling me not to touch him. The next thing I know he's back on stage singing along with Khan's fat belly as it protrudes in the crowd, hands covering him. It seems that not only are you guaranteed a good show with King Khan, but you may just as well be guaranteed to be part of the show as well.