
Look, I moved twice in the past year, from a small house to an even smaller apartment, and being a collector nerd pop culture archivist I have a LOT of SHIT. That is, I have a LOT or records. I also have very little time to sort through stuff, thusly all my records are still quite jumbled. Um, my LPs are almost sorted out, but my 45s...UGH, boxed, but still laying where they landed. And it's been so long since I went looking for anything I've discovered I've forgotten if I own a particular record or not. It's a bit....A LOT...embarrassing, at one point I had a good handle on my gear, but recently...not so much. Uh, this considering I have been trolling for 'B' sides...ANYWAYS...so I'm creeping eBay™ for some new sweet jams when I found THIS 45: the Falcons' 1966 single, and first for Big Wheel, "(I'm A Fool) I Must Love You" and I'm freaking 'cause I can't remember if I have a copy.
Well...DO I OWN THIS?! It IS an awesome 45!! Such sweet midtempo AND the Falcons were a BIG DEAL*! This has also happened with the Fi-Dels AWESOME double sider "Try A Little Harder," I think I own it, I hope I do...DIG THAT BASS FILL, but I can't godamn find it. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh!! I need an intern.
*The Falcons were a long running R&B group outta Detroit with a TON of important members passing through, like Wilson Pickett, everyone should know him for his OWN career, but that's his soaring lead on the Falcons' "I Found A Love." A couple other members of HUGENESS were of course Joe Stubbs a member of the Four Tops, the Contours, and the Originals, Mack Rice "Baby I'm Coming Home", and group founder, Eddie Floyd "Knock On Wood." Yeah, a fucking HEAVY group, y'all.
(Neptune) For a couple of years in the '80s, Dinosaur Jr. were one of the greatest fucking rock bands in the world. You're Living All Over Me? It's an all-time classic of post-"Like a Hurricane"/post-hardcore maelstrom-mongering. Bug is almost as cataclysmically brilliant. But ever since those twin towers from 1987–88, Dino Jr. have steadily declined. Which is not to say they've lost it, but even with the original lineup's return on 2007's Farm, the songs just don't hit with the power and fire of yore. The new I Bet on Sky kind of sounds like it's ready for a nap, but live, Dinosaur Jr. can still sporadically spark like something's actually at stake.
... and sometimes it's as simple as BACON and BEERCANS.
This is the inaugural edition of the "Fuck, It's Late, We're Bored, Everybody Left in the Office Donate One Thing to This Pile" Line Out trivia contest! This goes out to you, people who work late on Fridays (we're sorry!) and people who read Line Out on the weekend (that's dedication!).
Trivia Question: What song did Negative Approach's John Brannon sing at karaoke in New Orleans last June?
One lucky winner will receive:
Leave your answer and/or dumb jokes in the comments! Winner will be chosen at random and notified in the comments, and can pick up the prize package at our offices. IT'S FRIDAY! HAVE A GOOD WEEKEND! GOOD NIGHT!
*by "Dave Coulier"
I’m no expert on the venerable art of songs about grandmothers, but in my music listening experiences since the ’60s, I’ve encountered at least two stone classics of this ilk: Bo Diddley’s “Look at Grandma” and Moby Grape’s “Hey Grandma” (co-written by Tacoma's own Jerry Miller). The former’s an instantly infectious soul-funk mood-elevator with fabulous female backing vocals. It’s from Bo’s mid-career 1972 classic, Where It All Began, which mystifyingly doesn’t get nearly the respect that The Black Gladiator does. Moby Grape's "Hey Grandma" is an instantly infectious country-rock barn-burner. I have been known to put it on repeat for an hour and then run personal-best times in the 10 kilometers with the song stuck in my head.
I’m having a hard time deciding which tune about grandmothers is best. Maybe we can definitively answer this question with a poll, which, in keeping with Stranger tradition, is totally scientific and legally binding.
(By the way, you should check out Swedish '60s psych-rock band Baby Grandmothers.)

For last night's Refused show Megan "Ding Dong in a Cake" Seling wrote this:
Can I scream?! Because Refused, one of the most influential experimental hardcore bands of their generation...
Having heard Refused I can't imagine anyone from my generation, one which grew up on '80s hardcore, caring about Refused. Uh...mos def not like the kids did last night. Lordy...but that got me thinking, which '80s hardcore group would cause (ahem) "kids" like me, from the '80s, to get all excited? Like, what '80s hardcore band could be the equivalent to Refused's "generational" weight? Black Flag, perhaps? Articles of Faith? Void?! The Fix?!
If you’re a fan of psychedelic music, you likely had an epiphany with a song or an album or a show that blew open your mind to the proliferating possibilities of sounds that evoke surreal, hallucinogenic mind states. Sometimes this happens under the influence of illicit substances, sometimes it occurs while you’re as straight as 6 o’clock—or, as in my case, it hits you when you’re 6 years old.
Back in 1968, I was riding in the back seat of my parents’ car as we drove down the Lodge or Southfield Freeway to Detroit or Dearborn (memory’s kind of hazy after all these years; sorry). The Chambers Brothers’ “Time Has Come Today” came on the radio (commercial radio; there were no college stations back then in Detroit—or if there were, my dear old pop probably wouldn’t have been tuning in in that context), and time seemed to stop. About 2:40 into the song, the sweet little guitar motif, rampaging rhythm, and chanted “time”s of “Time Has Come Today” gradually decelerated and things got really weird: the “time”s got slowed and reverbed and stacked atop one another like elements in Steve Reich's "Come Out," and the cowbell hits likewise. The mantra of “time” and the illusory vortex into which the song seemed to be spiraling messed with my fragile, eggshell sense of “tiiii-iii-iiiii-iiime” and space.
After this freaky interlude, the song gradually sped up and returned to the charging garage-soul stormer it had begun as (this was the 45 radio edit, not the 11+ minute LP version), and then launched out of our mundane world with one of the greatest yells in musical history: “OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH, now the time has come! (Time!)/ There's no place to run! (Time!)/But I had my fun! (Time!)/I’ve been loved and put aside! (Time!)/I’ve been crushed by tumbling tide! (Time!)/And my soul’s been psychedelicized!” You can practically hear Lester Chambers conspiratorially winking to all the heads out there in the way he emphasizes the last word. And this jam nearly cracked the top 10! Frank Sinatra must've been pissed.
I don’t know how you could emerge from your first listen to "Time Has Come Today" without having your aesthetic DNA forever altered. From that point on, I had my ears attuned to extraordinary sounds and gravitated toward them—albeit naïvely and haphazardly, until I got into high school— whenever they infiltrated the radio or the TV. In the ’60s and ’70s, both mediums offered a decent amount of out-there music, if you stayed up late enough and knew where to look.
The Chambers Brothers spurred an impulse in me to revel in strange, otherworldly music, no matter what form it took. They set me on a path to aural enlightenment that continues to this goddamn second. The algebra of this need can never be completely sated—if you're doing it right.
Enough blather from me. What was your psychedelic gateway song?
Here's a list of shit I'm tired of:
1. Lists.
2. The "hipster" label for everything people don't like, but aren't creative enough to describe any other way.
That said, this is a pretty good run down of bands that I'm just fed up with hearing/reading about. If you can get through the critiques without taking it personal, the writers have made some funny points, even about my beloved Bright Eyes.
LA Weekly goes on a list of the worst weekly magazines, btw.
Short list:
1. Bon Iver — So true.
2. tUnE-yArDs — Their music is like a dog whistle to Chuck Klosterman.
3. Arcade Fire — Music writers: use the word "anthemic" one more time, wouldja?
4. Bright Eyes — Dude has been making music since he was like 10, maybe he should take a break?
5. Grizzly Bear — Grizzly bore, am I right?
6. Beirut — You listen to them, because I'm not gonna.
7. Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti — We had this already, it was called Robert Smith, he had black hair, was actually interesting, and had a talented band called The Cure.
8. The Airborne Toxic Event — If ever a band name said STAY AWAY, it's this one.
9. Beach House — Yawn. The cucumber sandwich of bands.
10. White Rabbits — Percussion is just one element you can use, guys.
11. Edward Sharpe And The Magnetic Zeroes — A very happy Manson Family special.
12. Pomplamoose — Like a flash mob of suck.
13. The Decemberists — The Hazards Of Loving someone so dramatic.
14. Wavves — No, pop punk is not cool after junior high.
15. Death Cab For Cutie — Bremerton! Woot!
16. MGMT — GFYS.
17. fun. — wrong.
18. Sleigh Bells — I can't really stand to sit through a song of theirs, so I couldn't say.
19. TV On The Radio — Wait, what the? Fuck LA Weekly.
20. The Black Keys — #1 on my "Success: You're Doing It Wrong" list.
Via schocklee.com
Professor of Astronomy at the University of Michigan Dr. Jon Miller and his associates hypothesize on what it would sound like when a star gets consumed by a super massive black hole 3.9 billion light years away. All in a day's work, right? The result, however, is not as heavy as you might expect, although it does sort of resemble a Goblin soundtrack for a giallo film.
Posts about today's battle in the ongoing war between Poster Giant—a poster company largely regarded as a gorilla-bully—and everybody else in the city are below. Poster Giant routinely wallpapers the building across the street from Stranger HQ with whatever is the going concern: concert ads, car ads, convention ads. They even have a reputation for covering up posters for shows and events that haven't happened yet, which is extraordinarily poor form.
But some people think that Poster Giant, which doesn't pay rent on those walls, nor owns those walls, nor has any kind of legitimate legal claim on those walls, needs a kick in the nuts. Last night, somebody put up a bunch of feminist posters with the words "girl army" scrawled in spray paint. This morning, some dude from PG covered up some of that with some posters for some video game. A few minutes ago, a woman showed up to fuck with PG by spray-painting "OH POSTER GIANT, UP YOURS!" (I'm sure you all get the reference, but here's the song anyway, in case you haven't enjoyed it in awhile.)
The spray-painter identified herself as "Sam—I'm a fucking feminist and have some fucking taste in public fucking space!" That's enough credentials for me.


What's your next move, PG? If I were you, I'd avoid grandstanding, give the people what they want on 11th Ave, and keep making money while earning social capital.
But I'll be curious to see what you decide to do.
I really don't like Pandora!! Computer automated radio (The Music Genome Project) seems like it would be awesome because it starts off on a song or band I like, but then it spirals into something totally shitty because it shares superficial characteristics with "the stuff" I like (gender of lead vocalist, level of distortion on the electric guitar, type of background vocals). Instead of getting turned on to new music, I end up irritated and skipping over songs like an impatient, petulant child. Because when it comes down to it, it's the SONGS, not elements of songs broken down into vague classifications, that make for good listening.
This is why I'm newly into this handy playlist app Songza. You log in and it takes into account the day of week, time, and possible moods and genres that you can listen to. Since it's all playlists compiled from their "music experts" (they even have a section called "record store clerk"), it's a pretty decent way to pick what you want to listen to based on your mood, the genre, and the time period. Check it out especially if you wanna get this sick 90210 playlist! You're welcome!


As an adamant life-long fan of the band Hole, I was bummed when I found out that one of my favorite Hole songs was not even theirs. "Credit in the Straight World" was originally penned and performed by British three-piece organ/bass/drum machine magicians The Young Marble Giants, who created music that makes me feel druggy and good, like my head is being held under a pool of warm saltwater. I prefer the original, but since Hole's is more familiar and rockin', I thought I'd put it to a vote!
With the Blue Angels zooming above our city and terrorizing our eardrums in their annual display to reassure us that America's collective penis size is indeed still impressive, it occurred to me that we need to compile a list of the best songs about planes.
Songs about planes generally have an inspirational, soaring quality and the topic's motivated a lot of great music. Here are my top 3 tunes: Nazz's "When I Get My Plane," Swervedriver's "Planes Over the Skyline," and—hey, obviousness!—the Byrds' "Eight Miles High."
Surely you've been waiting for eons to tell the world your favorite songs about aircraft. Don't hold back. (Also, fuck the Blue Angels with a rusty propeller.)
Fuck cigarettes and their carcinogenic payload (please quit now if you’re a smoker; thanks), but there have been some killer cuts featuring cancer sticks in their lyrics. Vital songs with ruinous habits in 'em—it’s a venerable tradition in rock and soul and funk and blues and jazz and klezmer. My highly unscientific survey has yielded two classics that stand above all the rest: the Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” (1965 single that later appeared on Out of Our Heads) and Al Green’s “Take Me to the River” (off 1974's Al Green Explores Your Mind)—although I confess I heard Talking Heads’ 1978 version first, and that one is amazing, too.
But there’s a good chance you disagree with these opinions on this volatile subject. Use the comments section to yammer about your own fave tunes that use cigs as lyrical props. Come on, cough 'em up.
Hello, please allow me to introduce you to my post-Block Party power animal:
NAPS!
But they're kind of too private to post on a blog, y'know? I just thought I'd mention it, because probably other people are feeling the same way. Really, though: THANKS, MUSIC. And Block Party. Um, yeah.
Resident block-party virgin asks: (1) What's up with the face paint? (2) OW, don't your feet hurt already? How do you do this for three days in a row? And three small notes: (1) Thanks for the free sunglasses. (2) I saw my first street vomit last night, aren't you proud? And (3) dang, it's hot out, y'all!
That is all.