All Dogs Go To Heaven: Fiona Apple has cancelled a string of tour dates by issuing a hand written letter stating she will be with her ill pooch, Janet in her last of days. Keep your chin up, Miss Apple.
White for Black Friday: For the kitschy collector or frazzled friend of a musician, Jack White of the White Stripes brings you Third Man Novelties Lounge where anything from records, plastic figurines of an Airline guitar, and much more can be purchased and/or gifted.
We Like Pants Accidents: Pissed Jeans will be releasing their new album Honeys on Sub Pop this February! Listen to their new mp3 "Bathroom Laughter" here!
Slay Your Breakfast!: A pan fit for a Viking is now available from Combat Kitchenware. Get involved with their Kickstarter and impress your black metal friends.
Outta My Way, I'm a Motorist: Justin Beiber and Dude With a Video Camera have a curt conversation, hold up traffic, and piss off a section of L.A. The proof is in this annoying video.
The New Pop Queen Is...?: Rising to her 12th chart-topping single, Rihanna is giving Madonna and the Supremes a run for their money as far as Billboard Top 100 goes.
The Devil Keeps Me Cozy: Okay, this Slayer sweater is kinda fantastic but you can only find it in the UK! No love for the states, I see.
R.I.P.: Martin Fay, Fiddler for the Chieftains, has died.
Experience the Experience: A must-see Jimi Hendrix exhibit opens at EMP on November 17th. Still no word on mass stratocaster burning flash mob.
Broadway Nod's Off: Nikki Sixx plans to release The Heroin Diaries as a Broadway play in late 2013 or early 2014.
Free Mixtape: Geoff Rickly of Thursday has slapped together a few songs he recorded in his apartment with a few friends—download it for free here.
Nirvana On Tour!: ...via winter of 1989! Bruce Pavitt regales us in tails of Nirvana and Tad's Heavier Than Heaven European tour in his book Experiencing Nirvana. Chock-full of never-before-seen photos and more currently available as an eBook through iTunes.
Mile High Club: Rihanna seals day two of her 777 Tour. Definition of 777 Tour: 200 frenzied media professionals and professional Rihanna fans + One Rihanna + the worlds lamest carbon foot print.
This Cat's Got Claws: Cat Power confirmed their European tour will commence as scheduled. Close call due to singer/songwriter Chan Marshall's personal health issues and possible bankruptcy.
Unfortunate Human Avalanche: Three fatalities and two injuries due to a crowd crush at a Halloween bash in Madrid starring DJ Steve Aoki.
R.I.P.: Frontman Mitch Lucker, of metal band Suicide Silence has died in a motorcycle accident early this morning.
Metal for Sale: Slayer's 1986 cut,"Raining Blood" is your audio backdrop to a TV commercial featuring Google's Chromebook computer. Is nothing sacred?
Remember Raves?: Wait, they still happen? Well, in case you forgot what they looked like, here ya go.
Make Room for Lemmy: Almost 40 years strong, Motorhead are heading into the studio come January 2013. Give us Hell, Kilmister.
Just You and Me, Punk Rock Girl!: The Dead Milkmen post three new songs and remind us to never grow up.
Terry Callier passed away from throat cancer Oct. 28. He was only 67.
Callier was singer-songwriter born and raised in Chicago's infamous Cabrini-Green projects where he was steeped in R&B/doo wop. This led to him writing and singing his first side, a GENIUS soul track, "Look at Me Now," on the local Chess label. His record afforded him some attention and he was invited to tour with Chess artists, but his mom wouldn't allow him to tour, so he stayed in Chicago writing songs. But then in college, he heard folk music and John Coltrane. Everything changed, and tho' his roots were based in soul, his mind and writing were soon rightly expanding.
His first album The New Folk Sound of Terry Callier, testifies to his new reach. It's with the cool of The New Folk Sound I always regarded him as less of a soul man and more of a folkie, a grittier Arthur Lee, but he didn't just stick with the dreamy folkie action; he kept on writing and recording soul sides. In fact his '70s soul sides were STILL pure soul in the crossover vein; dig the velvety "Gotta Get Closer To You." Then, after writing a hit for the Dells in '72, "The Love We Had Stays on My Mind," he signed to Chess and recorded three jazz albums. Uh, tho' they're fantsatic albums...none sold, so the label dropped him. He then signed with Elektra, recording two more albums, but, again, with a no-hits outcome he remained underground. By the early '80s, as his playing/recording wound down, he chose to provide for his daughter and became a computer programmer.
A decade later, music, Eddie Pillar and the acid-jazz scene actually, called him back. Pillar wanted to reissue his "I Don't Want To See Myself (Without You)" on his Acid Jazz label, and just like that Callier was back. Since then he released five more albums and had collaborations with handfuls of artists/groups, including collaborating with Massive Attack for his last album, Hidden Conversations, released in 2009. My friends in Chicago, who knew him, said he was a quintessential Chicago gentleman who deserved the greatest respect... RIP, Mr. Callier.
Sidebar: Chicago band HP Lovecraft covered his "Spin, Spin, Spin" to great west coast sike effect; they also recorded "It's About Time," both tracks are on H.P. Lovecraft II. Of course, Callier's version is dreamy in its own right.
Sometime in the early 2000s I stumbled upon Momus' the Poison Boyfriend, a fantastic collection including spooky post-punk folk tracks released in 1987. Each of the songs on the entire record is odd and fantastic, thoughtful and rather sad. Lately, I've been listening to it while doing sets of jumping jacks.
Just now, I looked up a video of one of my favorite songs on the record to watch while jumping. Some of the songs are pretty long, so you can get 100-200 jacks during each one. For some reason the version above seemed longer than I remembered the song, and I was fascinated by the literal video that accompanied the song. As the song ended I hit 160 jumping jacks and decided to stop, and then was treated to a mini-commercial for WSU in Pullman, WA. Then I realized this version was entered into some sort of contest in 1997 by a WSU student. The comments contain a somewhat interesting story about the woman who made the video meeting Momus:
A story about Liza and Momus (aka Nick Currie)
After Liza went to LA to accept her award and after Kodak confirmed they would show this piece at their Cannes Film Festival Pavilion, she wrote to Nick. She did this to let him know what she had done with his song and since he was in Paris at the time, to invite him to the showing.
Momus wrote back to her to say that unfortunately he would be unable to make it down for the festival. At that time he was recovering from eye surgery, but he was able to watch the copy she had included with the letter. He said that until then he had never really thought of his song as a visual piece. But, she had changed his mind. He was happy for what she had been able to accomplish using his music.
The next year he was on tour in the United States. Liza traveled to San Francisco to see the show. At one point in the evening, she doesnt quite remember when, perhaps it was during an intermission; she took a chance and introduced herself to Momus. He not only remembered her, but he invited her up on stage with him.
In a wonderful pantomime Nick reached into a case and pulled up an invisible statuette. He told the audience Liza's story and how happy he was that one of his songs made it into the Cannes Festival. He took the time and explained that he was holding an Oscar Award for Best Music Video and presented to Liza.
Here I am in Seattle, doing jumping jacks while watching a video made in Pullman in 1997 set to the music of a man born in Paisley, Scotland. I'm not sure what death will be like, but sometimes life is pretty okay.
How do you feel about music that is best described with word clusters like "sick witch shit" and "quasi-industrial proto-goth"? Pretty good, right? How do you feel about things that are free to get into before 8:30pm?! Everyone likes that! AND a Silent Hill themed photo booth? AHHHHH!
Well, well, well—you can do all these things AND MORE, tomorrow night at Waid's (1212 E Jefferson—Waid's has the worst logo in town, but don't you dare let that stop you). Featuring: GLASS TEETH, OZMA OTACAVA, DUMPSTER BABY, TEENGIRLDIESATRAVE, SOBRIQUET, and MASCARA.
There will also be some free swag and "totes fo shotes"—and if you don't like totes, you're a monster. Here's the invite!
Woohoo! We were not actually kidding last week when we sort of implied that this might be a regular thing, where we go through our purses/desks/shorts pockets on Friday night and find you cool treasures, then ask you a dumb question so you can WIN THE PRIZE!!! Dedicated to you Line Outers who work late at a desk on Friday nights, or who read the blog on the weekend. Go you!
Also, a bit of Housekeeping: Hey there, last week's winner, carnivorous chicken, wanna contact us to pick up your stuff? Just like Santa, we love giving you free stuff, if you sit on our laps and stay on your very best behavior! Those fries aren't gonna eat themselves!
This week's prize package only contains two items, but one of them is HOT HOT HOT enough to put behind a jump, because BOOBZ. You're welcome! The prize package contains:
ONE (1) pack of glue-on fake nails, French Manicure-style. Oooh, classy! Says music editor Emily Nokes, "Those nails have touched Gary Smith's torso." It's true!
and ONE (1) very special, Spanish-language, lesbian edition card game called, appropriately, "¡SEXO!"
Redeem your prize by leaving the answer to this question, which honors our spirit animal Alanis Morissette, in comments (we'll alert the winner here in comments on Monday, when we sober up again):
What fellow '90s icons played guitar and bass on Alanis Morissette's best-karaoke-song-ever hit "You Oughta Know"?
PRIZE PACKAGE PIC...
At midnight last night, Sacramento based Death Grips released their new album, No Love Deep Web, for free. The cover art is a picture of a penis with the album title written on it in Sharpie. (Click link above for your viewing pleasure, if you are 18, and not surrounded by children or people that would be offended by seeing a dick with handwritten words on it.) The date of the album release seems to have been a point of contention, with Death Grips' twitter saying:
The label wouldn’t confirm a release date for NO LOVE DEEP WEB “till next year sometime”
The label will be hearing the album for the first time with you
So it’s out. And it crushes. Death Grips are a three-piece armada. Rap-heaves of electronic brute pissing kerosene on a fire.
If he hadn't died today, in 1970, James Marshall Hendrix, aka Johnny Allen, aka "Jimi," would be 70 years old.
As reported by the HuffiPos, an aspiring rapper named Ervin McKinness made several Tweets related to drinking and driving before dying in a car crash that also killed four others. McKinness' Twitter account name, 2.7.5 Inkyy, has a number of Tweets leading up the the crash, ominously foreshadowing the event that occurred.
Allegedly, "Drunk af going 120 drifting corners #FuckIt YOLO" was written at 1:19am, everybody in the car was dead 21 minutes later. The car hit a wall and ended up in the backyard of a home in Ontario, California.
"You Only Die Once." - Keith Whiteman
Video h/t: Shaun Kardinal
Tupac was born on June 16, 1971 and died on September 13, 1996. The company that recently resurrected him is now fighting for its life...
Digital Domain Media Group, the visual effects company co-founded by James Cameron, is entering into Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection. The company produced effects for some 90 Hollywood films, including Titanic, the Transformers trilogy, and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, although it undoubtedly gained the most exposure for deceased rapper 2Pac’s holographic performance at the Coachella festival in April.The spectacular hologram of Tupac did not save Digital Domain Media Group. Similarly, the spectacular death of Tupac did not save Death Row.
In recent years a combination of cheaper technology, globalization, and tax incentives abroad has eroded margins in the American visual effects industry, leaving a trail of closures in its wake, of which Digital Domain is the latest example.
... he's just been hiding in a Russian subway tunnel.
Sadly, I learned this morning via Facebook™, that George Gallacher, singer for the '60s R&Beat group the Poets, passed away this weekend.
The Poets were a Scottish beat group that was, like, HUGE in Glasgow, and as such, soon fell under the charge of the Rolling Stones' manager Andrew Loog Oldham. He'd seen them on the cover of Scottish pop magazine, Beat News, was impressed at a subsequent audition, and immediately arranged to get their first 45, "Now We’re Thru" b/w "There Are Some" (Decca) issued. After a near Top 30 with that first side, they wrote/recorded more BRILLIANT sides and toured like crazy, but eventually the lineup shifts and lack of breakthrough success caused the group to split some time around 1971.
As a result of failing to produce hits, the Poets became just another group on the heap of also-rans. But then in the mid '80s, some of their sides began showing up on sike/freakbeat compilations. In fact, I first heard "That’s The Way It’s Got To Be" and "I Love Her Still" on Rubble Volume 3: The Electric Crayon Set; and then in 1997 via the Distortions imprint (designed, as an homage, like the great English record label Immediate), a collection of all their Decca/Immediate sides were issued. SO GOOD! Then (ahem) everyone knew who they were!! They reformed with the three original members left (it's now down to one), last year and the Poets even recently played the annual le Beat Bespoke weekender Easter weekend. RIP, Mr. Gallacher.
A full telling of the Poets' story is right here... there is a wealth of info AND plenty of demos to be heard.
She made me laugh like a jackass when I was a kid, so, of course, I kinda I fell in love with her. Her cheek defined my sense of humor...RIP Ms. Phyllis Diller.
Also: I had no idea she recorded a comedy album of songs, Born to Sing. It's mostly showtunes, however it does include an uncomfortable stab at the Rolling Stones' "Satisfaction."
There’s something special about long-running bands from your hometown, bands you see on a regular basis from their inception, through their growing pains, and into their maturity as a well-oiled machine. You see their whole lifetime. It starts with those awkward first few shows where they’re still finding their legs. They’re fresh and still a little rough around the edges. There’s a sense of the unexpected that stems in part from the band being a new creative force, but it’s also largely due to the band still being this unstable, uncertain entity. Then they start to figure things out. They put out a record, do a tour or two, and get a better idea of how their band sounds and operates. They gain a little confidence and act with more precision and knowledge. Then they grow into seasoned veterans, the bands that play together like it’s second nature, like they can read each others’ minds. These bands achieve a level of greatness reserved only for the most stubborn, dedicated, and inspired musicians out there. Akimbo has been around for 14 years, which in punk years makes them ancient, wise men. But on August 11th at the Comet Tavern, the band will finally lay down to rest, ending a long run of devastation and brutality, putting a capstone on a life that’s seen them grow from rambunctious infancy into a ferocious but focused adulthood.
I've been timidly admiring the hauntingly wonderful ballads of King Dude [local prolific artist and Actual Pain creator, TJ Cowgill] for some time now, and was excited/terrified to hear his new album, Burning Daylight. Allow me fumble around while trying to describe this music to you (without scaring anyone).
It's eerie and captivating—maybe I'll go with graveyard folk? Like having a seance in your attic while wearing your great-grandmother's moth-eaten wedding dress. What else? It reminds me of early American daguerreotypes. Serious photographs where the subject looks as if they are braving through some kind of misery. Or dead. Hopefully they are not dead. I mean, they definitely are at this point, just not at the time the picture was taken. Those pictures are fascinating, people peering at you from a time when getting your picture taken was a somber affair and even children looked as though the weight of the 1800s rested on their tiny pinafored shoulders. See? Compelling. And just the tiniest bit scary.
Burning Daylight comes out in October, the perfect month for beautiful seances.
Deep Purple organist, the great Jon Lord, passed away today. He was 71.
It is with deep sadness we announce the passing of Jon Lord, who suffered a fatal pulmonary embolism today, Monday 16th July at the London Clinic, after a long battle with pancreatic cancer.
If you don't recognize the name you might recognize Lord's playing from Deep Purple's hit version of Joe South's "Hush." It took a mighty man to trade melodic stabs with Deep Purple guitarist Ritchie Blackmore—and Lord was mighty.
Lord had an extensive career with Deep Purple, AND (ahem) Whitesnake, but I always have been a HUGE fan of his '60s R&B group, the Artwoods. They've been forgotten over time, and never heard in the US, but in a word, I'd reckon they were truly unfuckwithable.
And if that ain't enough, sit down and dig this BBC recording. It's on fire.
I know this isn't exactly a "music thing," even tho' he often sang and did some guitar pickin' on his Andy Griffith Show, but today Andy Griffith died. He was 86. Like Griffith, I grew up in rural North Carolina and I remember how things were. Um, it wasn't quite life as portrayed the Andy Griffith Show, but sometimes it was kinda close. Griffith was real North Carolina, head to toe, from the generation where EVERYONE was a cheeky character, so it ain't surprising he made being one of them characters his act!! This bit, "What It Was, Was Football," is maybe the most famous of his pre-Andy Griffith Show bits, was story telling like how I know NC folks told stories. It's dead on.
Lord knows I've sat through a MILLION of those kinda stories, told/retold by family and friends, and his passing serves as an acute reminder this style of Southern story telling is nearly extinct.
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