My friend in New York has been bugging me about Battles for at least a year, and now the experimental band is out with a new record, Gloss Drop, and the track “Ice Cream” is making the rounds.
Honestly, this is the kind of song that can really grind on me if I’m not in the right mood for it. But if I am, it’s got this odd mix of funky and noisy and slightly goofy. I just needed to put up something that wasn’t mellow and introspective, which is what I’ve been flirting with these days. And I don’t want to make this look like some emo LiveJournal knockoff. No thanks.
Here I was just about to moan and groan about how Fleet Foxes was just one more band I was doomed to miss at this year’s Coachella Valley Music and Arts Festival. I just ASSUMED this was the case, as almost every other current indie darling will be doin’ it in the desert. But when you assume, of course, you make an “ass” out of “u” and “me.”
Meanwhile, this nu folk sensation from Seattle is playing the Fox Theater in Oakland, which is almost as disheartening as Coachella. Not that I’m one of these uber-provincial San Francisco city folk who won’t venture across the bridge to the East Bay. But I’ve heard some pretty underwhelming reviews of the sound at the Fox, which doesn’t exactly make my big toe jump up in my boot, as Little Richard would say.
Anywho, “Helplessness Blues” is not only a really pretty track (and honestly, that can be enough), but the lyrics are really speaking to me at the moment. Which might just mean I have to get out of the house more often. But it’s been so freakin’ cold!
Dude. Or carnecito, if you wanna get all Latin aqui.
And I know you do. Because we’re simpatico, hombre. I feel the pain of desperately needing to jump up and down like Gabby Hayes in “Blazing Saddles” and scream at the top of your voice, “Hey, I’m Latino!” because you look so white that you can’t show up to your Tio Pancho’s bbq in shorts without sunscreen.
Sunscreen. How our ancestors weep in the afterlife.
And while you’re at a disadvantage with that giant head and neanderthal neck, at least you have a last name that is easily identifiable as non-white. Only fellow Mexicans (and, of course, Filipinos) recognize “Robles” as a Latin surname, and when they say it correctly (as opposed to rhyming it with “nobles”), it’s like a secret wink or code shared among conspirators.
But that wasn’t enough for you. You had to get all race-y. And now you’ve forced me to call you out on an issue that’s just as big an elephant in the room as race is in this country – dummies.
Sorry, man, but you’re a cretin. A dullard. A bombastic simpleton. Bumblefuck, buffoon, bonehead. Take your pick. Jon Stewart isn’t prejudiced against minorities, he’s prejudiced against dum-dums, and you’re their patron saint.
I’ll spare us both by not citing every single example where you’ve demonstrated a complete lack of intelligence or insight. This clip makes a pretty good summation:
What pisses me off most about this whole episode is that minorities have a higher standard to strive for than gringos, for reasons too sundry to name in this forum. But instead of reaching for the stars, you’ve boldly reached out for the lowest common denominator by not only proving yourself a piss-poor journalist, but a goddamn clown.
I mean, say what you will about Don Lemon, but at least the guy’s got too much smooth to let himself gets tased on-air. Just sayin’. Or what about your other former colleague, Soledad O’Brien? She’s not exactly Ted Koppel, but at least she carries herself with a modicum of dignity.
Oh, but then isn’t Koppel a JEW? Sorry, didn’t mean to rub it in.
In conclusion, I’d just like to say that whatever you end up doing with what’s left of your career, por favor, I beg you – either stop being an idiot or stop cloaking yourself in your cultural identity. You owe it to nuestro gente not to do both at the same time.
Here’s what I’d call an Arrested Development/”Afternoon Delight” moment in advertising. On first blush, LL Bean’s new ad, using what most will find a genial-sounding, happy, olde tyme-y, folk tune, to accompany the joys of growing up in a family where your parents listen to Ira Glass every weekend. (Mine listened to Vin Scully, but that’s another story … )
Problem is, were these parents to peel the skin off of this onion, they may start cryin’. Take a listen for yourself of the unabridged version of Harry McClintock’s “Big Rock Candy Mountain,” which some might remember from the Coen Brothers film “O Brother Where Art Thou?”
Here are some of my favorite lines:
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains,
There’s a land that’s fair and bright,
Where the handouts grow on bushes
And you sleep out every night.
Where the boxcars all are empty
And the sun shines every day
And the birds and the bees
And the cigarette trees
The lemonade springs
Where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains.
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
You never change your socks
And the little streams of alcohol
Come trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats
And the railway bulls are blind
There’s a lake of stew
And of whiskey too
You can paddle all around it
In a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains
Wow. Yep, this is a drunken hobo song. Is this a liability for LL Bean? Doubt it. Just a big hunk o’ irony that the hero of the song is just the kind of person parents are likely to yank their kids’ arms to keep them away from. Homeless people are just so much easier to handle on “This American Life.”
An interesting collabo, and an even more interesting project. Titled Here Lies Love, Byrne and the Artist Also Known As Norman Cook’s new work is a concept record based on the life of Imelda Marcos (!).
Dunno if Imelda deserves the Evita treatment (some pinoys might blanch at the thought, to say the least), but here’s Mr. Byrne on his website:
The story I am interested in is about asking what drives a powerful person—what makes them tick? How do they make and then remake themselves? I thought to myself, wouldn’t it be great if—as this piece would be principally composed of clubby dance music—one could experience it in a club setting? Could one bring a ‘story’ and a kind of theater to the disco? Was that possible? If so, wouldn’t that be amazing!
Luckily for us, DB chose more compelling cohorts for this concept than KC and the Sunshine Band. Although … is Giorgio Morodor still alive? Google says yes!
Royksopp have released an instrumental version of “Vision One” from their last record, ‘Junior.’ You can get it here.
They’re hoping someone will make a mashup out of it, and I am, too. I love this song, and I’m a big fan of instrumental versions, but Anneli Drecker’s moving vocal is sorely missed, and a distraction would be really useful.
Boy, you really have to admire Steve Balls Jobs. Check out what he had to say this morning at the launch of Apple’s new iPad device and how it manifests the company’s gentle foray into the land of e-books.
According to AppleInsider:
Also introduced was “iBooks,” Apple’s e-book reading application. Jobs credited Amazon with pioneering the e-book market with its Kindle, but said Apple intends to improve on that model.
“We’re going to stand on their shoulders and go a bit further,” he said.
Ha! Of course, this is Jobsspeak for “We’re going to stand on their shoulders and poop on their head. Just sayin’.”
Sascha Segan of PCMag wasted no time in writing the Kindle’s obituary:
The new Amazon Kindle DX has a few weeks to live—and the magazine and newspaper industries may not have much longer. As soon as Apple unleashes the rumored iPad, Amazon‘s attempt at hardware design will vanish quicker than Betamax.
He argues that Amazon doesn’t really want to be in the hardware game, and will continue to thrive by selling content which iPad users will still need.
For its part, Amazon argues that the Kindle will likely be vastly cheaper than the iPad, but the fact that cheap MP3 players litter the market without consuming a significant share of it (compared to the iPod) proves that economy can’t beat sexy.
Oh, please believe that I have a very sharp ideology-based opinion about both Tim Tebow’s anti-abortion ad and CBS’ decision to air it during the Super Bowl this year.
But I think I’ll avoid being Cap’n Obvious this time. If you’re familiar with this blog and my other work, your anticipatory assessment will suffice just fine.
What really matters is … why? And I’m arguing from a completely non-political position. Who thinks this is the appropriate venue for such an ad? Sure, proponents of the sentiment will crow that it’s as good as any. But what about the beer-suckin’, chili-chompin’, funny-ad-watchin’ fair weather fan driving the demo?
In other words, what about me, what do I get?
Bupkus. It’s just like last year, when they ran that Zoloft commercial. You know, the one with the sad little guy, the one that stops your Super Bowl party in its tracks? I mean, God forbid your team is getting its ass kicked when that one comes on, or you’ll be putting that nacho down and reaching for a gun.
Also, what about poor Coors Light or E-Trade or whatever advertiser unfortunate enough to get their hilarious spot (meant to launch an entire campaign and costing millions to produce and air) slotted next to the buzzkill ad of the century? Kinda dims the spotlight on your spot when some genius has just introduced the most divisive issue of our time into the collective American living room, right before yours with the talking monkey.
(And spare me with “That’s the point.” If you think valuable dialogue that moves us forward as a nation is gonna happen with bellies full of booze ‘n’ beanie weenies poised before a demonstration of both militaristic violence and supercondensed capitalism, I’ll assume punditry is not your profession.)
Oh well. Luckily, progress has provided a new tool in exercising democracy and speech equity – the DVR. Tebow is no match for Tivo.
However, if they run that ad during the Puppy Bowl, I’ll be REALLY upset.
