dos dinosaurios still managing to make shit sick...

These dudes are starting to make me less terrified of middle age.
I hope I'm at the Masics/Moore electric wheelchair tour come 2030.  

TIIIMBERRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If a bear shits dreamily in the woods and the fucking pope is nowhere near the scene of the rather serene crime to hear anything about it, then what's the point of it being posted on some weirdo's music blog where no-one will ever fucking well smell that shit? There is no point at all, one would argue correctly. This explains why it must be posted on this motherfucker right here, this mighty bastion of mainstream indie-alternative trend-setting, this new cool cunt fuckwit bible, this extremely-well-known-except-only-in-the-coolest-kids-on-the-interwebz-circles music and other cool stuff interweblog, this super successful superstar elitist style sensation that like ptch4k or whatever like totes wishes it could be, but knows it never will be because like chuh as if, this space that is soon to be smothered in heaps of hyper lucrative hispter fashion label advertising, extorting money out of its fucking fabulously fashionable fanbase, whose super sublimely sensational taste in absolutely everything and soul squashing preoccupation with social status leads them buy a whole bunch of ridiculous shit they don't need in the slightest but desperately need to own for the sake of the consumer-item cultural capital that it brings to their personal brand, thus making the 'uber-cool' capitalist pigdog AmeriApparel style 'socially conscious' corporations (and consequently the best blog ever itself) ultra rich and therefore even cooler, this be all and end all of music and modern cultural criticism, this blog that this blog reccomends ultra-highly, that this blog suggests that if you don't like it you're probably a loser or weird or something, and gives its new album 10.3 out of 9.... Conversations With Unicorns.

meat shake...

Shakin' it, good.
Swinging from rafters, good.
Eating microphones, good.
Not going to see thee oh sees in Melbourne last month, bad.
Not being in Monterrey to see thee oh sees this weekend, bad.
Thee oh sees: good, Miles... bad.

music for skating down hills at night while wearing big fuck-off shiny silver noise-cancelling headphones vol. 68...

Cloneominids by FigueAlaska
AKA trippy electronic shit by the man with the best beard-tache in all of Mexico.

wusshhh

blast from last summer...

last year i loved a song

it just came on mtv mexicana

it reminded me of last summer

it made me buy beer and darts

its 3 in the morning

on a monday in monterrey

in mexico

so far away from where i was

so much has happened since

yet it still feels like last summer

the next one will be weird

live on national radio...

The National Live on the Radio!
From the most-awesome Minnesota public radio station The Current.
Twiiter em, or something.

That version of `You Were a Kindness` is almost too tasty. Flavour overload. The man has the best sense of beautiful sorrow `since` Nick Cave. I`ve heard people shit on The National because the dude is a "wannabe Nick Cave". Shithouse call. `Originality` is over-rated... he has a deep, beautiful, mournful voice... their songs are slow... so no-one should listen to them because it is all a rip off? Get farked. Go read Barthes if you wanna be a wanker about it. The original author is dead. Everything has been thought. All art is exhausted. etc.

The National make beautiful music.

Speaking of the lord of morbid and constant comparisons, listen out for bit where the host craps on about how she wishes King Nick had an evil variety TV show and that the National would play on it every week... pretty funny.

horsey girls are babes...

the babin'est babes.
super wild whorses.









Author could watch that forty times.
Blogger seems to think audience need to watch it five times.
Fuck you blogger.

reasons to go to splendour ep#1

Foals - Red Socks Pugie // A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

travellin' light...

So I figured it was about time I chucked my two cents in on this whole UK indie "nu-folk" 'movement' everyone is losing their shit over.

My (go-to) two cents: it's fucking sick.

Laura Marling is the most ridiculously talented teenager on the planet.
Look at her do lovely things with this lovely lad.
Not like that.
Minds and gutters people.


That fresh faced lovely lad's name is Johnny Flynn.
He can play guitar and sing and play violin too.



He plays onstage sometimes with these guys.
The Mumford and Someones. Meh.



The juices flow.
Did I mention Laura Marling somewhere before?
Yeah well apparently she makes lovelies with Marcus Mumford.
Fuck those would be some disgustingly beautiful and talented offspring.
The mind boggles.
All of the above mentioned maestro's have been know to play in a band called Noah and the Whale. Their stuff really ramps up the saccharin side of this whole folky bit, it's "twee as fuck" in comparison to the Mumford and Marlings. I still dig it. I'm a bit gay.



Nawww. Cigarettes and wine are indeed awesome.
This lady Emmy the Awesome also is awesome and also plays with Noah and The Whale.



Last but certainly not least on the English front, Laura Darling teamed up with dreamy indie-pop darlings The Mystery Jets a while back to make this lovely little ditty.



Right. Enough with the lovely English kids getting all romantic and feeling good.
That's not the way the world works and we all know it.
If your life is really so peachy then good for you, but get fucked.
Shit gets real in the UK folk circles when you head north for some good old fashioned Glaswegian gloom.
FatCat Records is the home of all that is holy, Scottish, unholy, drunken, and sad.
Case #1: Favourite-band-ever-alright Frightened Rabbit.
Seeing this song performed live; three of my life's greatest memories, musical or otherwise.



Still noodling with folk, although ramping up the rock element a little, also from Scotland, also on FatCat, we have The Twilight Sad.



That one gets me.
Like, y'know really gets me.
It understands me and loves me for who I am.
Or something.
To finish of our little journey back to the empire, the band with the silly name.
We Were Promised Jetpacks.
Great name, great band.



That concludes our tour of Britian.
Its been a ride, thanks for the memories, see you next year.
I can't believe how fresh and non-drug-addled I feel.
If you would like to read more about these lovely lads and ladies, their proficiency at swapping instruments and bodily fluids, and other lovely things, have a look here.

http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/folk-music-in-the-city-1547431.html

less. unless less is more, then more, no less...

Be it the humble hills of South Gippsland, a saw mill on the East coast of the Apple Isle, or the mean streets of Lundern, En-Ger-Lund, Aaron Cupples makes musical magic wherever he goes. His on-stage rock 'n roll resume includes the impressive notch of being lead gitbox-bloke for The Alpha Males, the former band of Austtralia's favourite nephew, that true-blue troubador, and all-round nice guy, Dan Kelly. While I knew that Aaron was an axe-man of note through his work with the Alpha Males, I only recently found that the man is a production wizard to boot...

On a recent road-mission heading up the East coast of Tassie, I put on the only CD in the glove box, The Drones' 2006 LP Gala Mill. I learn from cool-older-cousin Barney that the band recorded the album in an old saw mill not far from where we were, and that his old mate Aaron co-produced the album with frontman Gareth Liddiard. Radical. It's a great album, check out the song 'Words From The Executioner To Alexander Pearce'; a most epic interpretation of a good old gut-wrenching tale from colonial times. The Cannibal Convict. Intense. Awesome.

The point of all this you ask? I'm getting there, you rude cunt. Here it is: I've just been put onto Aaron's new project CIVIL CIVIC, thanks to his cousin, who happens to be my old high-school media teacher. Hey Clay. So yeah, with partner-in-crime-and-crazy-noises Brad Green completing the pair, the two are currently based in London, booking gigs and getting ready to conquer the world. Stylistically speaking, they're about as far as you can get from The Alpha Males' breezy indie-pop or Drones' doom-laden rawkenrawl. But.. they're fucking awesome.

Production genius..something..like I was saying...eclectic...genre-delineating...see..drums..it all makes sense..What?

Anyway, stick this in your indie-electronica crack pipe and smoke it:

Hell yeah. Sounds like... if you took the shimmering electric/electronic vibes of the very-rad Ratatat, then wore the sheen off a little with a lot more distortion? Someone else brought up Steve Albini's apparently-seminal 80s punk/noise/beats project Big Black. Seminal eh? Never heard of 'em. Next on the listening list, perhaps... that there wiki-scription reads as tasty as taco's. Ahem. Whoever or whatever they sound like, they sound fucking sick. UK music press heavyweight NME thinks so too, and with CIVIL CIVIC obviously having completed 'indie-brand management strategy' and 'using the viral marketing machine to your advantage' classes somewhere along the way - [erm, don't forget to order your limited-to-100-copies-and-only-on-retro-reel-to-reel-cassette copy of their debut 4-track EP. In the colour of the customer's choice, for fuck's sake. Hehe.] - there's basically no chance they won't be making headlines in no times. For a cassette, or a free MP3 download of the single version of 'Life Unless', head over to their blog here.