Thanks to teh internet combining and concentrating the biting wit and mean spirit of a billion trolls, and Kelly O (tee hee), Axl Rose's current physical state has become fodder for some funny/unfunny meme biz.
While both Tha Carter IV's quality and Wayne's status as one of the rap industry's leaders are debatable, there's no denying the man's career accomplishments. Lil' Wayne has been rapping professionally SINCE HE WAS 15 YEARS OLD. His first solo album Tha Block is Hot, which many of his current-day fans seem to not know about for some reason, was released when he was 17. It was pretty much terrible outside of the title track/lead single below, but still went platinum and reached #3 on the Billboard 200. What's up now Odd Future?
Since Tha Block is Hot Lil' Wayne has released eight solo studio albums, two EPs, ten "official" mixtapes (though I could've sworn that number was way higher), and done 366 guest appearances, which he supposedly charges $75-100K apiece for. Again, he is 29 years old. I have done absolutely nothing with my life.
I generally expect more out of Australians than this (facebook page):
A musical dedicated to the life of Kanye West is set to be staged in Australia next month.
The production, which has been put together by Philip Rosser, a member of the drama society at Sydney University, is said to tell the story of West's rise from humble beginnings making beats for Jay-Z to ultimately become one of the most famous men on the planet.
Rosser claims that he "really just meant the show to be something fun for [his] friends to see," but that he's really excited about all the attention it's getting. We truly live in terrifying times. I want Kanye to write a rap about this Aussie prating around a stage representing his likeness.
Natch, this is an official binding poll, any other suggestions in the comments please as I'll run out of room to POLL y'all before I run out of bands, but try to keep it all before 1980...kinda trying to keep it pre-hardcore. If you're needing any reference help try Collector Scum AND anything off the Back From the Grave/Garage Punk Unknowns tracklists apply as well!!!
The internet is ablaze today with news that the Hot Snakes are reuniting, but there appears to be no love for their home Coast. From the San Diego Reader:
December's All Tomorrow's Parties fest in Minehead, UK (December 2 through 4) will include a Hot Snakes reunion. "I'm super stokified on this," frontman John Reis posted online this week. "So far just ATP is confirmed. We are talking about maybe doin a couple more shows before hand. Not sure where but not West Coast. We will be hangin on the East Coast, so most likely out there or in Europe."
Boooo. Hopefully they'll make it out here some time after (Read: Dear Hot Snakes, please come to Seattle.)
by Brian Cook
on Mon, Jul 25, 2011 at 2:39 PM
I skipped Capitol Hill Block Party this weekend. Having just returned from a six week European tour the week prior, I was still in the mode of “the last thing I want to do right now is go to a show.” So rather than standing in the sweaty, drunken throngs of Seattle music fans, I camped out on a river up in the mountains and decompressed from the nearly 40 shows I attended in the weeks prior. So I can’t join in with fellow bloggers and ruminate on the highlights of CHBP, but I can list off a few of my highlights from my travels around Europe.
Karma To Burn
I guess I should’ve already been well versed in this highly-regarded instrumental stoner rock band from the ‘90s, but they’ve always been lumped in with a certain breed of that particular niche that doesn’t appeal to me. To say that their album Almost Heathen is as crucial as Monster Magnet’s Spine of God isn’t exactly a selling point in my book. But goddamn, they were a force to be reckoned with live. I couldn’t stop watching the drummer—a tall, gaunt, disheveled man with a big bushy mop of grey hair, an unruly beard, and a general demeanor that screamed “I need my Thorazine.” His cymbals were raised improbably high, and his rack tom was set at face-level, requiring this strange, flailing, goon-like drumming style to successfully pummel his kit.
In the small mountain town of Bolzano, Italy, we played a festival. Like so many “underground” festivals, it was really more of a standard show with too many bands. The line-up was comprised mainly of post-metal artists, with the best of the bunch leaning towards halfway decent Pelican knock-offs and the worst offerings coming across as third rate Deftones impersonators. Ugh. But the last act of the evening was something entirely different. Local duo Satelliti wrapped up the night with an amalgam of Goblin’s synth-based prog and Tortoise’s brainy infusion of jazz into indie rock. One moment the band would be riding on a thick, sinister arpeggio, and then it would open up into a free-form jam of electric piano and nimble drumming.
There are cities with such music history that you hope to absorb some of their magic just by being within the city limits. I’m sure there are folks out there who hope to tap into the mystique of Hendrix or Nirvana when they roll into Seattle. On our end, we hoped we would absorb some metal mojo in Gothenburg, Sweden, but the town felt a little too safe and reserved (no offense to the fine folks at Truckstop Alaska). Similarly, we were expecting more sinister overtones in Oslo, considering Norway’s black metal history. Our show did not reflect the dark underbelly of the country’s music scene, though I suppose the tragic events of last weekend reinforce Norway’s morbid streak. Only Cologne, Germany managed to live up to expectations. Having met Nicoffeine in the backstage of the renovated factory hosting our show, I shared my excitement about being in Can’s hometown. The fine gents in Nicoffeine had plenty of Can trivia to share, with a couple of members having collaborated with Damo Sazuki in years past. They then proceeded to take the stage and unleash a horrendous torrent of gnarled, shrieking, audience-baiting noise. The subs in the PA were cranked, and at moments the bass made my temples feel like they were caving in. There was nothing “heady” or sophisticated about Nicoffeine. Sonically, there was nothing tying them to krautrock. But the sheer volume, migraine-inducing frequencies, and physical intensity of their set were a trip, nonetheless.
We played a heavy music fest in Milan. The big names for the night were Eyehategod, Kylesa, and Church of Misery. For a myriad of reasons (decibel limits, vibe-killing sunshine, and swarms of mosquitoes, just to name a few), the big attractions just didn’t really translate very well. It was underwhelming. But tucked away on a small side stage, Italy’s The Secret delivered thirty minutes of claustrophobic doom and voracious d-beat hardcore. They were louder, heavier, and more intimidating than anyone else at the fest.
Yes Derek Erdman and Charles Mudede, I agree with you early U2 is the goods. Hell, I'll even go as far as to admit that I owned Achtung Baby on tape. BUT, as we all know, the boys that once made War and Boy no longer reside in the bodies of the wankers who parade around under the name these days. Example: In an 8-4 vote, the California Costal Commission recently rejected a proposal from the Edge, in which he intends build five mansions on a bluff above Malibu. LA Times has the story:
"In 38 years of this commission's existence, this is one of the three worst projects that I've seen in terms of environmental devastation," Peter Douglas, the agency's executive director, said in an interview after the vote. "It's a contradiction in terms — you can't be serious about being an environmentalist and pick this location" given the effects on habitat, land formation, scenic views and water quality.
More fun details on the Edge's proposed home:
· 1) It would be 12,785-square-feet · 2) It would be called "Leaves in the Wind" · 3) It would be named so for "undulating green roof meant to emulate fluttering leaves."
Sleepy Eyes of Death is sadly at its end. The Sleepy Eyes will see one last time in August, then they will see no more. This band always put out stimulating, inspired music. And their live shows were always audio visual feasts. Their songs contained the remainder of the Earth’s drinking water. Here is their statement:
After 6 years of playing shows, setting off fire alarms, releasing several albums, doing a little touring, inhaling way too much fog, and generally just having a hell of a time hanging out together, we've decided it's the right moment to end Sleepy Eyes of Death. We've been planning our final show for awhile and are beyond excited about it. This will definitely be it. We've got a set we're really psyched to play and we will also be upgrading the light show to something entirely new and retina-crushing for this last performance. This will be the final show we'll ever play as Sleepy Eyes of Death.
We will all continue to make music in some capacity, but also realize that this project was very special to us and it wouldn't have been possible without everyone who came to our shows, bought our music, and supported us over the years.
Thank you and we'll see you all one last time.
-SLEEPY EYES OF DEATH
Sleepy Eyes of Death - Final Show: Friday, August 26 at Neumos.
This morning, the morning of Friday the 13th, I had a teleconference with Yanni, the world renowned, multi-platinum, Grammy-nominated, Cheez Wiz clown-composer. I’m not kidding. Approximately two hours ago, I went to a location downtown, was lead into an office with three other people, and Yanni was Skyped on a 17-inch Macbook computer. In support of his newest album Truth of Touch, Yanni is doing “teleconferences.” I planned to get kicked out quickly. I’d ask him something about balls and touching their truth, or something about the Truth of Touching my balls.
I didn’t have it exactly worked out. All I knew is I wasn’t going to last long.
On the computer screen, Yanni looked tired. He was wearing a robe, drinking coffee, and he has over-manicured chest hair. He was in San Diego where he plays tonight. His hair is shorter, and his molester stache is gone. Whatever accent he has I think is fake. I don’t think he’s from Kalamata, Greece, I think he’s from Cleveland. The three people at the teleconference were allowed two questions each for Mr. Yanni, which we had to have ok’d beforehand. I said I was going to ask him about micing techniques for string sections, and something about where he was most looking forward to playing on this tour.
I was told I would ask my questions 2nd, so I had a few minutes to take it all in. The first guy began, “Blah, blah, blah.” Yanni is an extremely confident and cunningly cheesy man. He’s got this accent, and goes on about how much he likes his own album, and how it’s fun, and that this one’s something different, and how he was playing with the rhythms, and about new sound design. Everything he says, he’s said 1000 times before. Yanni really wants people to believe that he’s into what he’s doing. But I think it’s pretty obvious he’s just in it for the money. The guy is from Cleveland. The whole Greece thing is a terrible adult contemporary act. I know that he knows how mind-bogglingly cheesy it is. He may be fooling Republicans and the elderly, but there’s no way he actually thinks the music he’s making is good. Come on. And he knows that I know he’s being cheesy all the way to the bank, in Cleveland.
It came time for my questions too soon. I thought I would have a few more minutes to work out my thing about balls and truly touching them or whatever. But the first person was finished with their Yanni time and looked satisfied. My moment of Yanni was upon me. The agent in the room turned the computer toward me, signaled for me to go ahead, and Yanni smiled like he was a cartoon gopher. I froze. Went blank. I didn’t know what I was going to say. Yanni waited, sipping his mug (like someone from Cleveland would sip a mug). I felt like Ralphie in A Christmas Story when he finally gets to Santa, and forgets what to ask for.
Finally I said, “So your new album is called Truth of Touch… Have you ever gotten high and put your balls on a gerbil?” Totally not what I meant to say. I meant to say something witty about the Truth of Touching the Underside of My Balls. But I screwed it up. My heart was exploding, I was screwing up my Yanni ball-moment. I had been waiting weeks for this.
Yanni said, “Excuse me?” And with my second chance I said, “Have you ever done blow and put a gerbil in your fanny?” Which was not really what I meant to say either, but at this point, I was just firing off words. Then I said, “What is the truth behind Touching my Balls??”
With that, it was over. The agent pulled the firewire cable out of the computer and told me I needed to leave. He pulled the computer screen shut, and escorted me out of the building. We said nothing to each other. As I was walking out of the parking lot, I looked over my shoulder, and could see him standing inside the glass door laughing to himself. I can’t be the first person to have been thrown out of a Yanni interview, I mean teleconference.
Up until a couple years back, the style of metal created by super Swedes Meshuggah never had an official name. Thanks to the ultra-nerdiness of the dudes from Periphery, "DJENT" was born. You might be asking yourself "What the fuck does that mean?" It's actually quite simple - the genre was named after the sound created from the ultra heavy, palm-muted guitar riffs crafted by bands like Meshuggah, Periphery and TesseracT (DJENT DJENT DJENT DJENTTY DJENT DJENT). But that's just the start.
Get ready for some DJENT-STEP. The Algorithm is a one-man "Djent-Step" project masterminded by French musician Rémi Gallego.
I both love and hate this at the same time. I'm confused.
I'm sure you've all seen/heard this, fine, but me, I just got wind of this Wednesday. Um. Uh...okay, really? This is a "tribute"...this is the BEST nerds at endless noise could muster as a Motown/girl group tribute. (sigh) Really.
Now, in order to unwreck whatever that "tribute" may have wrecked of your fine Friday morning, dig the Les Chansonettes, an honest to GOD real '60s girl group, it'll make things better.
Hey music fans! I am looking for a new calendar intern who can help compile weekly music listings. You must be:
*Available during usual business hours about 10 hours a week. (Mondays and Fridays would be especially great, but the days are flexible to accommodate your schedule.) *Really detail-oriented. (There are a lot of dates, times, and prices involved in calendar-making, after all.) *Excited about the local music scene and it'd be an extra bonus if you have good knowledge about local venues and bars. *Nice. Funny is also good.
In return you will:
*Maybe get to write for Line Out sometimes! (Assuming you can write.) *Get school credit! (If applicable—I'll sign whatever you need me to sign, so long as you aren't a bad intern.) *Get to put The Stranger on your resume! (IMPRESSIVE!) *Get to listen to listen to me make fun of bands with shitty names while we work on the calendar together. (TEAMWORK!)
The internship is non-paying, but you'll get newspaper experience, maybe even some writing experience, and homemade cupcakes with things baked inside them. You might even get to meet Grant Brissey.
To apply, email me RIGHT NOW and tell me about yourself and why you're interested in the position. Please keep it short—just a paragraph or two is fine.