
I'd never heard "Guess I'm Dumb" before today, but DAMN, if it ain't good!
Um... some selectors play this out, like, as a dance jam. Odd, 'cause this is a big, and very Brian Wilson sounding pop song, which, to my ears, ain't a mover.
I really only know Glen Campbell's music from my adolescence. His string of soft pop/easy country hits—"By the Time I Get to Phoenix," "Witchita Lineman," "Gentle on My Mind," "Galveston," "Rhinestone Cowboy," and, perhaps the most grating of all... "Southern Nights"—were ALWAYS on the radio and, thusly, are forever burned into my brain with the most pointed of pointed hate. My hate notwithstanding, prior to his pop/country solo career Campbell was a member of the popular instrumental group the Champs, cut a few solo teener sides, and was an ace session man; he was part of the famed LA session group Wrecking Crew. It was via the Wrecking Crew that Campbell sessioned and toured with the Beach Boys and how I'd reckon got dibs on this song.
I've been knee deep in records for the last week, finally alphabetizing them after a move two years ago. It's been a good time to weed out the non-essentials. When I came upon two Legendary Pink Dots records, I was perplexed. I don't even think I've ever heard that band at all! Instead of listening to them, I decided to text local music brainiac Tim Cook for his opinion. It was midnight, I didn't expect a response until the next morning.
Alas, this came an hour later.

That song is quite nice. Are there other Legendary Pink Dots tracks that are great?
I think this record cover was the best music-related thing I saw all weekend? It's in a thrift store on 1st Avenue in Belltown. It could be yours!

Oh, and it sounds just like you'd think...
Overheard at Skrillex: "Why is everyone saying they're 'getting weird' right now?"
More on this story, by writer Steven Blush for PAPER Magazine, right here.
A CBGB Festival concert at Webster Hall was cut short when Harley Flanagan, a founding member of New York hardcore legends Cro-Mags, and who is no longer in the band, snuck backstage and stabbed and bit two of the band's current members.
We live in a strange world where one man, high on only marijuana, tries to eat another man's face—and another, a disgruntled musician, wields a hunting knife and bites another man's cheek. I blame Zombie Walks, and all the current zombie fetishsizing. It's gross. There, I said it. Fuck a zombie.
Also, in less violent news—did you know this documentary, one hour 30 minutes, exists online? The Day the Country Died - A History of Anarcho Punk:
The story of the anarcho punk movement, told by some of the most influential performers including: Penny Rimbaud (Crass), Colin Jerwood (Conflict), Colin & Kevin (Flux of Pink Indians) Dick Lucas (Subhumans), Zillah Minx (Rubella Ballet), Gary Buckley (Dirt), Steve Lake (Zounds), Mark Wallis (Liberty), Gee Vaucher (Crass), Dave Hyndman (Hit Parade), Rob Millar (Amebix), Rodney Relax (Alternative), Stringy & Snout (Erratics) and Gerard Evans (Flowers in the Dustbin).
We ALL know who Bill Cosby is, right? And James Brown, right? Well, here is Bill Cosby as James Brown.
This is my first time hearing this...HOLY SHIT. Not bad. Cosby has a few records where he sings, and with the exception of his Stevie Wonder "Uptight" nod, "Little Old Man," it all seems a bit...forced. Like, he's a comedian/actor, not a singer...anyway, the flip of "I Luv Myself Better Than I Luv Myself," "Do It To Me" is good, too—cheeky, but good...for SERIOUS!
Do you ever wonder what happens to a person after the fame and fortune of making The Stranger's Drunk of the Week? Well, I can tell you, at least, in the case of Lady Vampire Banana, she has become a "HE" (that's Mister Banana now, thank you) and has been recording new rap tracks.
Move over Nicki Minaj!
"Beyonce gave birth to a daughter named Blue Ivy late Saturday, welcoming in with Jay-Z the most anticipated celebrity child of this new decade. Her very conception announced in show business style with a red carpet bomb at the MTV VMAs in late summer 2011, Blue Ivy will continue to have a massive impact on show business." —HuffPo

I know this is news from earlier in the month, but damn, it's still brain fruit. Are juggalos really a hardcore threat to society? I had a good with them. I mean, someone got stabbed, and then that Tila Tequila lady got some turds thrown at her, but still.


This weekend I was enjoying some southern-fried rock (CAN'T YOU SMELL THAT SMELL??) and my guy Jake spoke the sentence in the subject line.
First, there should be an iTunes application that southern-fries any music you want. Get on it, app monkeys.
Second, a poll:
Have you read any of the fine, fine entries in this week's official Drunk of the Week Poetry Contest?!? There's some real horny dandy ones!
Now it's time FOR YOU to help me pick a winner—the winning entry that will take home the grand prize of: one loaf of banana bread, a tube of SPF-50 Banana Boat® suntan lotion, a Drunk of the Week T-shirt, and a box of lightbulbs.
The 10 best entries are after the jump! VOTE! VOTE NOW!!

For EIGHTY-SEVEN dollars and EIGHTY SEVEN cents (with Ticketmaster fees and taxes) you can go see a man sing karaoke versions of songs you used to love, well, before you heard his karaoke versions of them, LIVE, at Key Arena on December 16th. Treat yourself this holiday! You deserve it!
LISTEN. And buy your $87 ticket right here.
"If he came back right now I'd have to kill him, for what he did to us. I'd fucking kill him. I'd fuck him, and then I'd kill him."
Oh crap, Courtney. Read more on HuffPo and the whole story in Vanity Fair.
Videogum asks this burning question. Well?
...this video just gave me one. I mean it.
It's finally Friday. It's 4:20 p.m. THIS is what my brain sounds like. Can you feel it too? Does any of this make sense?
h/t Knuck Yu!
This is part of an ongoing series in which Seattle duo Brain Fruit travel through India, Istanbul, and Berlin. You can find all the previous entries here. —Eds.

A Saturday night in Taksim, Istanbul turned into an unexpected Persian/Turkish birthday party starring the ever-so-talented house band Tatavla Keyfi! On the suggestion of Olympia/Seattle's own Ian Ackerman (pictured above right, now a resident of Istanbul), we climbed three flights of stairs in a dark alley and emerged into a club no larger than a standard-one bedroom apartment. Unfortunately, the name of the club eludes me due to the alcohol-induced brain damage we sustained over the next five hours. Anyway, the club was completely full and we were immediately identified as foreigners/non-turkish speaking freaks. The first two questions we were asked were "Do you have a reservation?" (We didn't) and "How did you find this place?"
Luckily, the band's manager overheard the conversation and quickly came to our rescue by seating us at her table. Little did we know that we'd just been sat in the INSANE PARTY ZONE. The 49 year-old Persian woman at the table was visiting for her birthday and special arrangements had been made to make it her best. After a few beers/Rokis, any awkwardness melted away and we were all hugging, dancing, and drinking. Some old Turkish men broke it down, hands above their head, feet stomping to music half the speed of any western dance music. Soon everybody was gettin' down to some crazy saz shredding/accordian pumping goodness. The 5x10' dance floor was filled with people hands over shoulders doing a stompy circular can can. We left at 3 am when the food poisoning from earlier that day started kicking in. Hell and a cab ride later, our hostel beds welcomed us with pissed danish teens aplenty. The next two days were spent shitting water every 20 minutes and choking down fruit and powerade. Was it worth it? HELL YES. As no photos were captured at this event, please enjoy some evil photos I took in the underground Basilica Cistern instead:


This is part of an ongoing series in which Seattle duo Brain Fruit travel through India, Istanbul, and Berlin. You can find all the previous entries here. —Eds.
Flourescent lighting in bars is hilarious. Who needs that flattering darkness with a heavy red hue? I want to be able to see all the irritated pores on my friends' faces as they sip a piss-colored 650ml foil-labeled Thunderbolt. Other highlights included cafeteria-style seating and a urinal that looked like it got diarrhead on 15 years ago. When flushing the toilet, I couldn't help but be reminded of that one time I stuck my fingers into a booth cushion at the Cha Cha.
The prices were right; I might actually go back there. Plus, I really need a photo of a baggy-pants Indian bro with a goatee and mullet wafting his polo shirt back and forth in front of the air conditioner. Lighten up those sweaty pits do.
JC/BBO, WMTS shout.