i'm feelin' supersonic

as most of you know (since i already txted the six of you that read this shit, anyway), i got to meet NOEL GALLAGHER yesterday when homeboy stopped in at amoeba. we got to interview him on camera about what he was buying. yeah, he introduced himself as the bass player for coldplay ("obviously"). yeah, he said T-Rex was "prolly shite." yeah, it was kinda one of the coolest things ever.
yeah, you'll get to see the "interview" on amoeba.com soon.

IN THE MEAN TIME... i'm gonna FINALLY see oasis for the first time TOMORROW at the staples center. FUCK YES! who's going? don't lie. you know you love it. HELLO! YOU GOTTA ROLL WITH IT!

i have to find someone who wants to get "liam" to match the "noel" i'm gonna get tatted in huge old english lettering style on my stomach before the show. just kidding (maybe not). in any case, this is gonna be a party you can't stop. who would WANT it to? noel is ALWAYS cooking on a solid 8.5 out of 10. he even says so himself: click here to read.

and finally, 'cos i think this story is funny and i really want to make the most of this pointless blog: my neighbors got super bummed 'cos i was blasting oasis "too loud, too late" last night. um, it's hollywood and it's fucking OASIS. are you old or something? IT'S JUST ROCK 'N' ROLL!

i'll tell you anything, baby 'cept the truth

it's no secret a swiped my blog name from the eagles of death metal cover of the stealers wheel song "stuck in the middle." i was supposed to interview the dream boys themselves a couple of days ago for a bitchin' article i was gonna write... but boots electric was a no-show/call. i get it, they're on tour. things get weird. but i can bet it probably wasn't 'cos he was sleeping in. i mean, sometimes it's tricky keeping everything in your life straight, especially when your little black book probably looks a little something like this:

1. baby girl #1
2. baby girl #2
3. baby girl #3
4. baby girl #4
5. friend of baby girl #3
6. baby girl at amoeba
7. baby girl at big wangs
8. blonde baby girl
9. goth baby girl
10. tatted up baby girl
11. boy baby girl
12. baby girl on the corner of santa monica & la brea
13. old baby girl
14. baby baby girl
15. baby girl with an english accent
16. baby girl in chicago
17. baby riot grrrl
18. alabama backwoods baby girl
19. baby girl baby momma
20. baby duck

etc.

somewhere on that list is probably "baby girl that i'm supposed to do an interview with on 11/11 at 9am" but maybe my number was cross-filed under a different baby girl. oh well. shit happens. i'm supposed to do an interview with "the devil" and his cohorts (for real) sometime in the near future, so if you've got any ideas for good questions you think i should sling his way, e-mail me.

one of those dudes from buddyhead told me to ask jesse hughes about the buddyhead podcast... which just made me wonder, "uh, what podcast?" is that just gonna be a couple of burnouts and their fair-weather friends spinning tracks and shooting the shit about ol' dirty bastard, creedence clearwater revival, and the verve? couldn't ya just go to one of those fifty nights that those dudes are djing instead? prove me wrong, boys, and make that shit worth it! bring the good stuff back. i know i'm not alone when i say we miss the good ol' days when you used to "go OFF" (and not be lame about it). do it!

at least rivers cuomo is still rad, even if the last few weezer albums have been little more than weird experiments in the field of how popular can we sound while still looking like total dweebs? market. regardless, there were some choice cuts on his last solo release alone: the home recordings of rivers cuomo, and i'm hoping to find at least a few gems on his follow-up that's due out on november 25th (same day as GnR's chinese democracy, dudes!). if nothing else, everyone needs to own this album for the cover art:



fuck yes. and i thought my haircut was ridiculous.

seeing as how it's almost time for the impending release of the loooooong awaited "chinese democracy" (even though everyone who's anyone has heard it already), i figured i'd take the opportunity to correct a few douchers who don't know that when you abbreviate "guns n' roses" it's GnR not GAR. they are not "guns and roses" anymore than "rock 'n' roll" is "rock and roll." besides, GAR is too fucking close to that shit/piss/hair metal band "GWAR." let's not taint the genius that is "appetite for destruction" with thoughts of old dudes wearing masks and spewing shit into an audience of blind sheep who paid wayyyyy too much because they can't/won't/don't admit that it's OVER. wait. fuck. which band was i referring to again?

most people who know me know that i'm a little... weird. i'm a social retard half the time, and stoned as fuck the rest. comes from a rebellion towards a weird religious upbringing and getting beat up a LOT in my younger days. but if there's one thing that will always get me outta my shell, it's dylan (if you've been here before, you already know this). my buddy lionel recently attended a show of his up in victoria, bc on october 23rd, and since i spent my last dylan experience in santa barbara tripping balls on mushrooms and puking on the dude in front of me (which if you're reading this, i'm sorry, man, but that shit was INTENSE), i thought a real dylan show review was warranted. especially since this one seemed like such a unique experience. it offers a real insight on just how much this man is still capable of:

"Show was incredible. His keyboard wasn't working so he sang Man In The Long Black Coat center stage, just Bob and his harmonica. Later, when the keybord wasn't working again, he picked up a guitar and played Just Like A Woman. He spent about two minutes fiddling around aimlessly on the guitar before he found the song. It was terrible, or should have been, but I was in awe of it. Only he could pull that off. He's completely peerless.

The entire thing was miles above and beyond even my raised expectations. When other artists of his age and stature play their "timeless hits", it's entertaining but there's something false about it. Dylan tosses any nostalgic bullshit aside and re-invents the songs from the ground up. He's singing them how he fucking FEELS like singing them. Like he's singing them for the first time.

Bob is at his best whenever he's doing what he wants. The only low-points in his career have been times he's compromised or let other people take control of his music. As long as he's doing whatever he damn well feels like, it clicks. And it did last night."

awesome, lionel. i'd be lying if i said i wasn't jealous. wish i could've been there for that one.

for as much as i love dylan, i also have a soft spot for neil young. and since i'm as connected as much as the next neo-folk poseur hipster wannabe, i thought i'd link to an article i read recently about dylan visiting the canadian songwriter's home in winnipeg. click here to read.

does anyone know anything about the old LA punk band "butt trumpet?" i just picked up a 7" for the single "i left my flannel in seattle" from the album "primitive enema." thing is, that album is way out of print, and yeah, even though i work in the world's largest independent record store, there's a few things we don't see here too often. if you've got a copy of "primitive enema" let me know.

and last but not least, amoeba interviewed my old buddy casey (who most of ya know if ya know me) for this new feature on the site called "what's in my bag" (make sure you check out the mos def one, too) anyway, i took the pictures, and homeboy has some great suggestions if you've got taste, so check it out. i remember when we were teenagers, hanging out in the parking lot at hastings, and i told him about "this amazing band called my bloody valentine." we went inside, and i made him go grab "loveless" and that was that. friends ever since, and we've only tried to kill each other a couple times over the years. rock on, bro! now you're famous!

darlin' don't you go and cut your hair

my week, in pictures.

listened to some stuff:



cut my hair:



ate a ton of spaghetti:



found the best thing ever:



fuck yeah, rock on.

i'm the freak that's on display

i decided to put my cat iggy up on youtube. he's the one who made a cameo in the last "stuck in the metal" video blog entry i posted. he's weird, funny, and i love his ugly little face. plus, he knows what's up better than most people out there. see for yourself:



woooo! rock 'n' roll!

yeah, i know, i need to get out more...

creed SHREDS!!

seriously. watch for yourself:



thanks to pia for sending this one to me. i've added it to my never-ending supply of scott stapp and creed vids i keep stashed under my bed. including the one where he's wasted and talking about how "babies come from his sack" (a personal fav):



maybe i shouldn't be so harsh. after all, scott stapp is a poster boy for "rock" music and christianity. kids should really follow his "righteous" example by putting their belief in hookers, blow, shitty music and oh, yeah, jesus, too. see what i mean? this dude has managed to reach "the top" despite spraying hypocritical bullshit from his ass and turning every musical endeavor he takes on into a fucking joke. plus, his "unique" singing voice makes him sound like he's juggling fat, hairy nutsacks around in his mouth while getting rammed in the doodie hole by the lead singer of nickelback. i mean c'mon, what's not to love?

touch me i'm sick

in honor of halloween, i wanted to post possibly one of the best music videos in existence for any holiday, ever. warning: it is amazing.



wow.

and if you haven't heard about it already, the little radio in downtown LA is hosting a halloween party THIS halloween. autolux and the henry clay people are set to play, which should be rad in the face. it'll set you back 24 bucks, but there's a free open bar all night. YEAH! you'd spend that much on just two drinks at some lame scenester spot like cinespace anyway, PLUS you'll be getting tons of rad music... and did i mention the free open bar? shit yeah! i think i did, but it's worth mentioning again. you can get yr tickets by clicking here.

Album Review: Oasis Digs Out Your Soul

Oasis have returned from the vacuous depths of rock ‘n’ roll, overcoming sibling rivalry and wildly ostentatious lifestyles to release their seventh studio album, “Dig Out Your Soul.”

The record instantly hypnotizes the listener with it’s own take on the Beatles-laden psychedelia sound, while simultaneously planting it’s stamp on the ever familiar brit pop genre. Reminiscent of their earlier work, “Dig Out Your Soul” is an album that reaches heights that one wouldn’t expect from a band that’s been in the game this long.

Staying true to their precious form, “Dig Out Your Soul” can almost instantaneously be labeled a classic. The real truths give way to swaggering rock songs, touched with a smattering of bombast that true fans have come to rely on. The first track on the album, “Bag It Up” pulls the listener in immediately; the lilting melody passionately vying for your attention.

Reflecting an inner peace for the Gallagher brothers - without losing any of the braggadocio that made their music (and personal lives) so entertaining, the polished music is still laced with sounds of nature and every day life, eliciting memories of 1995’s "(What’s The Story) Morning Glory?" However, unlike previous albums, Noel carries the reigns on the majority of songs. Liam takes over on vocal duties for only three of the eleven tracks that comprise their latest release, including the first single “The Shock of Lightning.”

What’s unique in this album over previous work is the focus and attention on more of a riff based songwriting style. An array of musical authors gives their sound a new perspective, while still managing to maintain the classic rock ‘n’ roll hallmarks that the brothers have always brought to their music. Songs like “The Turning” and “To Be Where There’s Life” channel psyche-influenced Beatles tunes, not unlike those found on “The Magical Mystery Tour.”

The boys have managed to firmly cement themselves in the vast world of rock ‘n’ roll by striking a balance; effortlessly maintaining their unique sound, while still keeping a watchful eye on a fickle industry. On the whole, the album is a more mature Oasis, one that’s been through the worst and made the best of it. The attitude remains the same, but the songs don’t. For instance, “(Get Off Your) High Horse Lady” sounds like John Lennon got together with Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds and wrote a ballad specifically with the intention of having Oasis play it. Not exactly a tune you would expect to hear on their earlier releases.

Salty sweet lyrics, playful bass lines, swooshing guitars, and catchy hooks make it easy to slip inside the eye of your mind and get lost for 45 minutes in your own private oasis. From start to finish, the stalwart brit-pop kings have done it once again by doing what they do best: making music to “Dig Out Your Soul.”

Oasis will be playing the Staples center with Ryan Adams and the Cardinals on Thursday, December 4th.

that's your boyfriend

that's your boyfriend. because it is.

have you ever seen some dude walking on the street with a HOT naked lady that's bending over tatted all up on his arm? he's toothless, homeless, and probably dickless. he's got an old cup from jack in the box that's full of dog shit and used condoms. dude. that's your boyfriend (ak/a tyb). don't you remember? we'll post a picture of him up on our new (old) blog, so don't worry. you'll remember when ya see him.

this was a weird photo/video blog i started ages ago, and completely forgot about. that's kinda how my life goes. i just can't seem to shake some shit, and before i know it, there's something i forgot about that's on my radar again and back in my life. so (for now, anyway) it's baaaaack. kinda like fire and ice. i'm into it. i've got ADD; it helps keep things interesting. and this time i have a new friend to help me with it, so it's gonna get some much needed attention.

and for the dudes: don't worry, we'll be sure to post hot-ass babes up, too. tits, man. tits.

bookmark it!

http://thastsyourboyfriend.blogspot.com

and if you feel like reading some of my *actual* writing that isn't about dylan, touching dicks or ugly people, you can check out my beatcrave articles.

down the highway, down the tracks

bob dylan does it for me. i love the man, and i've never even met him. i don't have to. i get everything i need by hearing his music and reading about his life. i've had the fortune of seeing him live twice now, and each time it's played an integral part in shaping a major psychological shift in me. his albums have gotten me through the most melancholy periods of my life, shedding light on situations i didn't even know were hidden to begin with. he was there when i was 7, riding in the car with me and my mom while we sang his songs from highway 61 revisited. he was there when i experienced heartbreak, and emotional distress, spinning tales of forlorn lovers and troubled situations. he made me feel like i wasn't alone, and gave me a connection i could relate to. bob dylan changed my life, more so than any other artist or musician. he did more for me than anyone ever could: he gave me shelter from the storm. somewhere to go when i couldn't deal, and i needed comfort.

i know i'm not alone in my affection for this man and his genius. his ability to go beyond generational gaps and have his words and sound be as pertinent today as they were 40 years ago, is a feat seldom accomplished by few. he is an iconic pillar that is as strong as granite, but as soft as sand slipping between one's fingers. his own life and vast musical catalog have painted a picture of a man, not unlike the rest of the world, flawed in his perfection; a man who has made mistakes but also made it through. a person who has transcended genres and labels to become an iconic artist in the true meaning of the phrase. simply put, he is a man who had a story to tell. and that he has.

of course, i've been eagerly anticipating Tell Tale Signs: Vol. 8, the latest chapter in his vast career-spanning bootleg series. it features new tracks, live cuts, demos, rarities, and previously unreleased goodies from 1989-2006. it came out yesterday, so make sure you pick it up if you haven't already.

one of the tracks on volume 8 is called "dreamin' of you." if you're a hardcore dylanologist, you've probably been streaming the album for a couple of weeks now on his website and have already heard it. today, i stumbled upon the music video for this new track, recorded at the same time he was penning the rest of the tunes that ended up on 1997's Time Out Of Mind. it's amazing, and the video stars harry dean stanton. you've done it again, bob.



and just because i'm feeling it, here's dylan live in 1976 singing "idiot wind" with the infamous rolling thunder revue (from NBC televised event of "hard rain"):



you'll find out when you reach the top
you're on the bottom.

Don't Go Into The Light!!!

If all this so-called "Christian Rock" from the likes of The Jonas Brothers and their ilk is the sort of music they'll be blasting beyond the Pearly Gates when it's time to give up the ghost... I think I'll just keep on sinning to make sure I'm not there...

you just kinda wasted my precious time

i don't have much to say right now. i just wanted to post some of the videos i'm into watching on youtube. so i'll get right to it. enjoy:

DAVID BOWIE - "Life On Mars?" directed by Mick Rock



BAUHAUS - "All We Ever Wanted Was Everything"



THE CRAMPS - Garbage Man



JESUS & MARY CHAIN - "Teenage Lust"




BOB DYLAN - "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" (Dont Look Back outtake)

obey your master

the other day, i met these two fourteen year old kids who came into the record store i work at. they were SUPER stoked on metal. i was helping 'em pick out the coolest tool and metallica posters, and ended up getting into a huge 15 minute conversation about all things metallica. these dudes knew all about the new album, death magnetic and kirk hammett, plus they wouldn't stop talking about how "kill 'em all" changed their lives the first time they heard it (that was cool, it changed mine too). at the end of it, i gave them some free shirts, and they were totally pumped. these little dudes knew more about the history of the music than 99% of the axe weilding adults that call themselves fanatics. the younger one told me that he was gonna call me sometime at the store so we could talk some more about metallica, but he had to go 'cos his dad was getting mad that he was taking too long. i hope those kids grow up and start a rad band and give music the kick in the nutsack it's been needing for a while now. i mean, the only one out there that's really fuckin' killing it and sayin' what needs to be said right now is this guy:






i may be 22, but i have the sense of humor of a fifteen year old:






idiot.

watch out, you might get what you're after

i'm a little out of sorts tonight because i had to work and miss the david byrne show at the greek. i guess showgasm '08 (as it's come to be known) must have some downtime. i suppose it's all for the better 'cos i can barely hear anything anyway after the mind blowing face melting shit yeah awesome rad-ness that was my bloody valentine last night at the santa monica civic. showgasm '08 is far from over, though. it continues with sun o))) next week at safari sam's, and then wire at the echoplex... and did i mention OASIS?!?!?!?! my life is awesome, and i have the raddest friends ever.

i'm going to work on a podcast or another video blog entry tomorrow, so be prepared, ya lil' eager beavers. i'm all about expanding the multimedia experience here at stuck in the metal. that is, assuming of course, that i can tear myself away from this video for five seconds and do something "productive":

your southern can is mine

i've got ADD, so i can barely sit through most movies without getting ultra bored ultra fast. in all honestly, i don't give a shit about the latest Bond flick, and i sure as hell can't tell you the name of the dude that plays 007 in the films these days.

all i know is that when i heard that alicia keys and jack white were collaborating together to create the new theme for "Quantum of Solace" i was curious (and a little scared). anyway, the music video for "Another Way To Die" came out a couple of days ago, and i finally just saw it. check it out:



i'm actually kinda diggin' it. i'm not saying i'm gonna rush out and buy the latest alicia keys record, but for what it's worth, could be worse.

i've been a motherfucking dope machine

drugs. there are good ones. there are bad ones. some blow minds, others just blow. either way, the "unholy trinity" of sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll wouldn't be complete without them.

drugs are the wild card; the element of danger. they have the ability to inspire tremendous amounts of creativity within, or ease the pain of harsh day to day realities. however, they can also just as easily destroy that which they were meant to enhance. it's only natural that artists and musicians would be drawn to them; the promise of relief from a troubled existence or a journey through time and space is tempting for those looking to escape the confines of everyday human existence.

check out this video clip that documents syd barrett high on acid:



kinda trippy to see a founding member of one of the most influential psych-prog rock bands in history really in the thick of it; hangin' out in the middle of nature climbing around on rocks and playing with butterflies and stuff. y'know. before he was like that all the time.

anyone wanna go to the joshua tree desert with me and take drugs? wait, scratch that. i'm afraid you might do something like this chick:



yeahhhhhhhhh! wooooooo! E-TARDED!

i really don't like emo kids. in fact, i can't stand them. they're fuckin' pussies. they cry. they listen to bands with sentences for names. and worst of all, they whine about it to anyone that'll listen. i can't wait until that "trend" dies down and jared leto goes back to acting (do yourself a favor and don't click here.)

then again, maybe i'm not understanding enough. i mean, life MUST suck when you're a pussy with a dick. especially if you're this dude:



chicks like dudes in bands 'cos they AREN'T YOU. they're doing something. not stuck in tex-ass making whiny limp-dick "video blog rants" about why they can't get any play with the ladies (btw, are you sure you're not gay?). oh and for the record, pussylips, that's not "the fuzz." that's "mall security."

finally, please feel free to donate to the "lyndxe needs money for rent this month because she wasted all her cash on tickets to go see Oasis play in NYC for a show that ended up getting cancelled anyway" fund. it's pretty self explanatory (click here for the link). or you can just buy me a ticket to go see oasis at the staples center in LA on December 4th (they go on sale this wednesday, 10/01, but the presale starts tomorrow and the password is: OASISINET). either way, that'd be real rad. thanks, champ!

i'm never too sick to fight

i'm pretty sure josh homme is the biggest badass in "rock 'n' roll." it's all about the fuckin' swagger and attitude, and this dude's got 'em both down pat. oh yeah, and he's got massive talent to boot. what more could ya ask for? yeah.





go back to your mom's house, you twelve-year-old dickless turd.

Concert Review: Eagles of Death Metal Make a Bang

here's a review i wrote on the eagles of death metal show at the mayan in downtown la on september 25th. i recently submitted this to beatcrave.com, but i thought that given the band and my blog, it'd be worthwhile to post up here, too.



On September 25th, an eclectic crowd gathered at The Mayan in downtown Los Angeles for the final show of the Hives/ Eagles of Death Metal/Willowz tour. From scenesters and seasoned followers of local indie faves the Willowz, to the savvy black and white clad Hives devotees, everyone in attendance was poised for a night of musical magnificence.

Among these contrasting fan-bases was a smattering of tattooed greasers and leather clad vixens, huddled in select groups throughout the venue. They casually sipped on cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon, occassionally stopping to take a drag off of their cigarettes. It was obvious that these seasoned rockers were anticipating a different vibe than that of their alt-indie and garage pop bretheren. Plain and simple, these folks were here to rock 'n' roll. And rock 'n' roll they would, to the hip shakin', boot scootin' boogie woogie sound of the fast-paced desert rock band, Eagles of Death Metal.

It was just after 9pm; the Willowz had already finished warming up the eager audience, as more and more folks started making their way towards the stage, anticipating the next act. The house lights dimmed, and instantaneously an explosive cheer erupted from the mouths of young and old alike. The moment everyone had been waiting for (whether they knew it or not) had arrived.

Guitarist "Darlin' Dave" Catching appeared first, appreciatively nodding to the ladies gathered at stage right, as bass-player Brian "Big Hands" O'Connor moved towards the crowd huddled at stage left. As the stage lights flashed on, eager EODM fans' were surprised to see not only Joey "The Sexi Mexi" Castillo sitting at the drums, but that directly parallel to him, perched above his own set of skins, was none other than Queens of the Stone Age frontman, Josh "Baby Duck" Homme.

Suddenly, the masses exploded into a fit of cheers a second time. Frontman Jesse "Boots Electric" Hughes sauntered on stage in all his devilish glory, extending his left arm towards the crowd, his fingers tightly clenched together in the undisputed rock 'n' roll statement of the century: the devil horns. There were no two-ways about it. The Eagles of Death Metal had landed.

After "Boots Electric" (ak/a J. Devil) himself finished adjusting the familiar lightning bolt strap of his solid white Gibson Les Paul guitar, the band immediately launched into "Don't Speak (I Came to Make a Bang!)" from 2006's Death By Sexy.

Teeny boppers, biker punks, indie hipsters, and rockabilly riders were all overcome by the same wave of thrashy, trashy and fun-filled rock 'n' roll that bounced over everyone in the audience. Young and old were joined together like toe tapping, hip shakin' dance demons. It was impossible to keep still as the face-paced gritty garage rock swept through the halls. Playing tunes from each of their three studio released albums (including the upcoming "Heart On" out on October 28th), the band seemed to mainly focus on tracks from their 2004 debut "Peace, Love, Death Metal" while introducing the crowd to new songs like the deliciously debauched "Anything 'Cept the Truth" and forthcoming "Heart On" single "Wannabe in LA."

J. Devil lived up to his "Boots Electric" moniker, boot scootin' and hippy, hippy shakin' his way up, down, on and off the stage, pausing only to express his undying affection to "all the lovely ladies" in the audience. The feeling was mutual; halfway through their set, an anonymous pair of navy blue panties were flung on stage. "The Devil" quickly nabbed them, presumably adding them to his growing collection.

The crowd continued dancing hard throughout the rest of their cherry cola flavored set, giving shouts of adoration for "the dream boys," and, of course, throwing up their own devil horns. As the band collectively burst into the catchy riffs and buzzing hooks of their final song, the fast-paced "Speaking in Tongues," the boogie woogie moving and grooving intensified. After the final notes were played, the band collectively stood together to take a final bow. A simple "thank you" and "goodnight!" was uttered as they exited the stage. The roar of the audience continued to echo throughout the Mayan as the stage lights were dimmed.

Some stayed to watch headliners the Hives; others left after having had a sensory overload of watching the musical embodiment of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, known unforgettably as the Eagles of Death Metal.

The dance party of the century (well, at least the night) had come to a close. Regardless, one thing was certain: the dream boys were here and they made us smile.

it's hanging above you

that's right, kiddies.

i shot/edited/posted a video to youtube today that highlights what's on my musical radar 'cos i didn't have anything better to do. actually, that's a lie, i have about a million and five things that i gotta do that probably should take precedence over making a shitty youtube vid, but i didn't really feel like doing any of them. plus, i'm pretty sure the only people that care about what i'm listening to are me and my mom, and she's just doing it to be nice. thanks, ma.

this (obviously) wasn't scripted; i ran back and forth to my cd towers and started pulling things out, and this was the result. it's a lil' choppy at some points and i forget what i'm saying towards the end, but you get the idea.



rock 'n' roll!

The Sermon On The Mount

Wednesday night, September 17th, 2008
The tickets had made themselves available at the last minute. And now, like a lamb to the slaughter, I was led to my paddock just a breath away from the left lip of the gaping maw of the beast known as the Hollywood Bowl. The balladeer of blood, broads and bullets was in town to sell his snake-oil sermon of death and impending doom. This was to be my first attendance at Mr. Cave's sermon on the mount. I was to share the paddock with two hapless foreigners from the Queen's country who reeked of cologne and were sporting golden brown perma-tans, one of them having been in attendance of this type of service before. "He's the real deal", said the one on the right.
Within minutes of my arrival, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds strolled onto the stage to uproarious applause from their followers and kicked things off with Night of The Lotus Eaters, followed by Dig, Lazarus Dig!!! and Tupelo...They were very well obviously off and running. Three songs in, and they weren't taking any prisoners. I eyed the foreboding crimson numerals 60:00 off to stage right, hiding behind the monitors. What did they mean? I didn't care.
Just then, Nick Cave addressed his flock: "Hello, Los Angeleez! This next song is a song Hollywood made famous." The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the resonating bell of fate tolled for us all through the immutable strains of Red Right Hand!!! A very personal favorite, evoking some of the darkest imagery ever laid bare in song. I grinned from ear to ear as fire and brimstone filled the air.
To calm us down for a couple minutes, Mr. Cave sat behind his piano to sing about a former lover. A song both so beautiful and subtly unnerving, "Into My Arms". Check it out if you haven't already. Great stuff!!!
Just around this time the crimson numerals off to the side had already begun counting down!!! I now knew what they meant, but I didn't want to accept it. A few more songs in and Cave and the Bad Seeds put us through our paces with Deanna, a song about cum and blood and guns and murder and moths and frocks. Alot to take in, but no one said this was a pansy-ass Josh Groban concert!!!
Song upon murderous song assaulted and groped us, yet made us squeal. So intense was the attack that I spotted Mr. Cave briefly run to the side of the stage on a couple of occasions to huff on some much needed oxygen. After all, the preacher-man stayed in his suit for the whole show. At about the time the crimson numerals read 5:30, Mr. Cave said "It appears we have some time issues, so we'll pretend that you've already asked for an encore." This being said, the band ripped into Hard On For Love, an obviously romantic song about life-long passions and what-not.
But nothing could prepare us for the motherfuck-laden saga of the motherfuckin' bad-ass
known as Stagger motherfucking Lee to bring this sermon to a close.
There had been mirth, there had been mayhem, and there had been murder. A full course meal for all us sinners in attendance. We filed out of the Hollywood Bowl and into the Los Angeles night in search of tales such as the ones we had just been told. Either as witnesses or participants. Only time, and our wicked minds knew for sure...

Say You Ain't Gay, Clay!?!

The world of rock n' roll was shaken to the core with the revelation to end all revelations. Clay Aiken, musclebound hunk and masculine troubadour to ladies near and far, revealed to the world that...(you better take a seat if you aren't already)...HE IS GAY!!! Horror of horrors! How could he have lied to us for all these years!?! Has he no compassion for his millions of fans!?! What of his "Clay-mates"!?! His adoring female fan base cried and cried into their pillows long into the night, having the one true love that emerged into the limelight of celebrity via an absurd teevee show (American Idol in case you already forgot) plucked from their very bosoms. If you thought midwestern women already had weight problems to begin with, news such as this can only lead them all back to their kitchens and Krispy Kremes and KFC's and McDonald's (you get the picture) in ravenous multitudes in search of comfort foods by the fistful!!! This world is so full of lies!!! How can we ever go on, knowing that an artiste such as he was pulling the gay wool over our eyes this whole time!!! First Freddy Mercury, then Rob Halford, then Rosie O'Donnell, then Ellen Degeneres...now CLAY!!! Who's next, Barry Manilow or Johnny Mathis??? Let's pray not, for the love of God, let's pray not. There's nothing wrong with being gay, I just cannot endure the emotional trauma which is a result of getting lied to again by celebrity. I'll put the pills away for now...The pain shall subside in time...Deep breaths...Deep breaths...

Abandon All Hope

It's been said there's safety in numbers. Well, dear friends and enemies (mostly the latter)...now you've got two to contend with! Watch this space, star-crossed lovers. There's more to come. All over yer face!!!

Life is short, filled with stuff

i'm super amped on about 3 cups of green tea right now, listening to the cramps, and feeling word vomitous (yes, i just made that one up). i got pretty much no sleep last night 'cos i was working on finishing up my article for the music site beatcrave.com

speaking of which, i'm now a regular contributor to beatcrave.com and i'm going to shamelessly plug myself because i can, so check it out.

i went to the brant bjork show at the echo last night after i got off of work, sliding in just moments before the man that used to pound the skins for kyuss took the stage. i'm still reeling from some serious mind-blowing desert rock. if there's one thing that gets me into it, it's watching those dudes from the desert finger fuck scales like catholic school girls.



sebastian bach has shitty music, but i have to respect anyone that jumps out into a sea of people and starts beating the living shit outta some fuckface who thinks it's cute to throw a beer on stage. what's up with all these douchebags harassing artists? if you don't like the heat, get out of the kitchen. no one is forcing you to go to the show, and hey, guess what? the door is always open, so you can leave if it turns out it wasn't what you were expecting. just make sure not let it hit ya on the way out.

finally, since i'm lazy as fuck, and also because i seem to be incapable of updating on a regular basis due to my commitment issues (yeah, even towards my own blog), i've invited my very rad friend, john d, to start contributing. yay! it's a party on my blog and everyone's invited! except you.

your music's shite, it keeps me up all night

there's a lot of reasons why "married with children" by oasis is one of my favorite songs. it's beautifully written, and within the masterfully crafted prose and lilt of the melody, lies a completely familiar message that nearly everyone can relate to on some level. there's no hint of malice, contempt or ill-will with what's being said, rather simply put, it's a lack thereof. an exercise in apathy. makes me wish i'd written it, and in that moment, the realization of their true genius comes to light.

of course, this clip wouldn't be complete without noel's trademark attitude surfacing before the song begins:



i was supposed to have seen oasis on friday night at terminal 5 in nyc... but shit didn't turn out because some douchebag decided to jump on stage and push noel into his monitors. this resulted in noel bruising his ribcage and caused several dates on their tour to be postponed/canceled, including the very private, ultra exclusive date i had tickets to. fuck.

at least i got to take a picture of sid vicious.

there is nothing conceptually better than rock 'n' roll...

as is kind of apparent in the way i sporadically update (seriously, 8 month breaks?), i'm really lazy. this prolly should've gone up sooner, but in any case, here's a review i wrote of a darker my love show i went to (um, kind of fairly) recently.



On August 7, Darker My Love wrapped up a Los Angeles residency at the legendary Troubador in celebration of their sophomore release, '2' (out now on Dangerbird records!).

Tim Presley's veiled vocals blended in smoothly with the psych-influenced guitar that emanated from him and rhythm guitarst Jared Everett. Their shoegaze-twinged sounds traveled effortlessly through buzzing vintage amplifiers, creating an unparalleled array of blissfully alternative fuzzy jams, while Will Canzoneri fleshed out their choicely harmonious tones with an thought-provoking flair on the organ and clavinet. Drummer Andy Granelli (of the Distillers fame) and bassist Rob Barbato (doubling up on vocal duties) kept the rhythm steady with resolutely undulating beats. While mostly a showcase of soon-to-be classic tracks from their latest release, the evening wasn't without a splash of old favorites from their 2006 self-titled debut album. Even with a fledgling discography, their performance seemed to float onward throughout the night as the crowd was enveloped in a wall of sound that carried through the walls to keep hipster hips swaying and indie heads bobbing.

In a surprisingly open-handed gesture, Darker My Love and Dangerbird Records decided to offer all concert-goers a copy of '2,' serving only to further cement their fan base's unwavering support. After having just experienced the surging swell of billowy dream pop tunes in one of the permanent fixtures of LA's vibrant musical past, it can only be assumed that everyone in attendance was poised and ready for a listen of the album on the drive home. It's easy to immediately be swept into a world of whimsical neo-psychedelic fun upon the first listen; the ease in which the album flows from start to finish is a true testament to the band's future as musical troubadours of their own right.

be sure to come check 'em out when they play amoeba hollywood on october 2nd. wooo!

no fun, my babe, no fun

i'm feeling lazy and uninspired, so here's a video of a cat playing the theramin.



rad.

caring is creepy

recap of the last 6 months or so: i'm playing music, starting a band, going to rad shows, smoking weed, eating vegetarian, and all while i still manage to keep my day job at amoeba. don't hate me 'cos i have a life and am too busy hangin' out at shows like the jesus and mary chain, melvins, duke spirit, gang of four or health. or 'cos i get to hang out and meet rad people like johnny greenwood and tony hawk. mmmhhhmm

i got tickets to go see my bloody valentine this october. i'm about as psyched as it gets. aaaaannnnddddd, we're gonna go see nick cave/spiritualized/cat power at the hollywood bowl in a couple of weeks... STOKED!

speaking of amazing killer jams, i got my face melted off with some serious heavy doom drone experimental stoner rock with boris at the echoplex on august 3. seriously killer. earlier this year, i had the fortune of gettin' paid to take pictures of 'em at their special after-hours in store performance at amoeba berkeley in june. that show was the start of their US leg of the tour; the skull crushing stoner jams and distorted billowy drone blended together seamlessly in a gaussian blur unparalleled by any other band. just one look at their pedal board is enough to get any gear-head's dick hard.



got an hour? fuck, man. spend it watching this:




...dude.

stoner metal got it's first real kick in the nutsack in the desert, though, with generator shows. those dudes in kyuss would get AMPED and play for 17+ hours in the middle of NOWHERE for a bunch of desert rats who were all about getting FUCKED UP. awesome...



like josh homme said, "if ya weren't there, well... ya weren't." unfortunately, i wasn't counted among the lucky few that got to experience that kind of insane mind blowing rock. prolly 'cos i was like, 5, and eating fruit loops and drinking apple juice outta my sippy cup. so? wanna fight?

anyone wanna buy me a ticket to go see dylan play in santa barbara on september 7th? pleaaaaase? i'm so broke from buying gear that i can't even afford to buy a new pair of chuck taylors and my old ones are literally falling off. i don't care 'bout the soles on my shoes, though, just another chance at seeing dylan deliver his stories to an audience as diverse as his career catalog. at the very least, his new bootleg boxset "tell tale signs" that's coming out october 7 is enough to keep me satiated for a little bit. it's the eighth volume in the bootleg series that features rare cuts and unreleased demos from 1989 through 2006.

recently, i've been delving into the depths of rock 'n' roll, trying my hand at the whole "band" thing. given me a sort of drive to hope for better than just helping hipsters find neutral milk hotel albums on vinyl and crackheads who want donna summers cassette tapes. i love my job, for sure, 'cos i get to take rad pictures and listen to cool music all day, but having to deal with my latent control issues makes me wanna do something where i get to call the shots. 'cept in a band, that's not really the case 'cos we're all doing that. and yeah. money, schedules, equipment and creative issues occur ALL THE FUCKING TIME. we're trying to document the process on video and in pictures, and take advantage of the youtube phenomenon so everyone can watch as we flounder around on deranged synths and anti-climactic lead guitar parts. which then turn into petty squabbling and passive aggressive attitudes amidst frustrated kids just trying to get what we've got in our heads out on tape. YEAH! SHIT IS HARD.

last saturday, i went to the natasha shneider benefit show at the henry fonda. are you kidding? qotsa? pj harvey? jesse hughes? tenacious d? i was stoked, 'cos that's right down the street from where i live in hollywood, so i got fucked up ala "feel good hit of the summer" style before heading down without having to worry about the fuzz killin' my buzz. i knew the evening was gonna be laced with somber moments, but i wasn't prepared for the intense emotional outpour that came from every musician that graced the stage. i almost can't even put into words what it was like seeing pj harvey belt out some of my personal favorites from the desert sessions with queens of the stone age, the unofficially undisputed champs of rock 'n' roll. needless to say, it was one of the best shows i've ever experienced, and, like natasha shneider, won't soon be forgotten.

as seems to be the case when i update here, i'm going through some weird crazy shit right now. being grounded by dylan is always a huge comfort, but lately i've been listening to oasis, too. more specifically their sophomore album "(what's the story) morning glory." i've always loved and listened to them, but the time has now come where their music is starting to affect me. it's rad to be forging connections within the words and walls of sound. i've always been a "layers" kinda kid, really delving deep into a record and listening for all the subtle nuances that bleed through the more prominently featured leads. basically, i guess that means i value the production, and let's face it, oasis are fuckin' masters at it. it's those moments of lucidity where i really connect with something musically that makes all this shit worth it. my point? GET INTO IT. the truth is you gotta go back to go forward. if you can find out where you're coming from, you'll figure out where you're supposed to be.

cast no shadow - oasis (acoustic performance with noel doin' vocals, live on msn):



...

goddamnit, metallica, please release a good album this time around. i'm really sick of disappointment from you fuckers. st. anger sucked st. nuts. little less fisting each other one-off style, and a little more pissing each other off, yeah? thanks. even dave grohl's got your back on this one. i think nine inch nails is taking a leaf out of metallica's book, though, 'cos they used to SLAY it back in the day, but now, for the umpteenth time this year, they've released an album that no one really cares about. i don't know why people are always up on a high horse regarding sobriety, since some of the best shit i've ever heard comes from destructive substance abuse and chaos.

oh, and in case you are fucking blind and couldn't already tell just by lookin' at the guy, henry rollins will kick your ass:



spacemen 3 are wrapping me up in this song right now, so i'm gonna go burn a j and fuckin' get into it, bro. i swear. i'm gonna post more. ahhh, say it ain't so...

it's truly a lie, i counterfeit myself

so my laziness caught up with me and i haven't updated in about 5 months. shit's been kinda weird lately, and i kept meaning to update, but meh. i started smoking more weed than snoop dogg, and i can't remember shit these days.


i've been pretty fuckin' sick for the past month, in and out of doctors' offices battling my rapidly declining health. it's cool, just proves my theory that shitty people get what they deserve. yep, i'm admitting it folks, i'm a shitty person and i totally deserve whatever's comin' to me.


aaaannnyyyway, enough of my self pitying at the shitty hand that i've been dealt in life. the bed rest has given me lots of time with my 800+ cd collection and my rad little stash of totally sick bud, but naturally, as in times past, when shit gets to me, the only thing that i can identify with is dylan. i think i've watched "no direction home" at least 5 times in the last week, and listened to "blood on the tracks" at least 3 times a day for the past month. the music and the drugs, man. whatever gets ya through the night.


i guess nothing really cool has happened since i disappeared from the virtual world. manson and twiggy reunited, nick cave and the bad seeds got together and recorded another album, and amy winehouse is in worse off shape than any of us. yeah, i got tickets to go see manson at the wiltern in february. yeah, i'm stoked. yeah, i'm gonna totally goth out.


so lemme get down to brass tacks. there ain't nothin' left in this world for you or me, babe, and almost all record reviews are just a way to show the world how cool you are, or how much you know about something you don't even like. i thought that 2007 on the whole was a bust. i started off the year doing shit i didn't wanna do, and ended it with people i didn't wanna be with. least we got a couple of good records from it, and i personally learned that drugs (like psychedlics and weed) are cool.


so what was worth it for me?


era vulgaris - queens of the stone age

i don't care if josh homme calls mark lanegan over to come take a shit in tandem with him, records it, then adds a killer bass line to it and pow! releases another lil' nugget to the world for all us to hear. it's fuckin' killer. i saw 'em a bunch this year, hung out at a few shows, and talked mad shit on how rad this album was to anyone who would listen. plus, they added that dude from wires on fire to their ever changing rotation of bassists since nick went off to do lots of blow and create knock off qotsa renditions to a bunch of fat overheated porkers at ozzfest.

from the opening line of the opening track "turnin' on the screw" to the rollicking repetitice chorus in "sick sick sick" and the simplistic bass intro to "suture up your future," this record does little wrong and a lot of right. do yourself a favor, get fuckin' blitzed and blast "i'm designer" 'til your cunty neighbor bitches at you to turn it down at 3am. guess they don't teach rock 'n roll in the midwest, bitch. fuck yeah!

smokey rolls down thunder mountain - devendra banhart

i was late coming in on the devendra banhart love train. yeah, i'd heard of the guy, knew he had a hippie beard, weird tattoos, and sang about seahorses and sparrows, but other than that, he stayed off my radar. that soon changed when i heard this record and realized that there was more to this guy than hippie crystals and a mat of long hair. plus, the dude totally owned jim morrison's old couch and let a bunch of dogs chew it to fuck. how's that for rock and roll? do yourself a favor and get into this record. he's supposed to play a show at the hollywood bowl sometime around my birthday this year, anyone in?

health - health

what the fuck is this? it kinda sounds like throwing a pot full of hot water and silverware down a stairwell and recording the ensuing chaos. the songs are short and pointless, but fucking great. they sort of blend experimental with shoe gaze and straight up prog rock. plus, they're playing with autolux on feb. 1 at the el rey.

mirrored - battles

i had a weird discussion about this record with matt groening and his son. we all agreed it was a departure from their earlier records (duh, hey added vocals this time around), but more so than that, it was and evolution from their earlier work. see? i can name drop too. look at how fuckin' cool i am and the people i have cool discussions with. plus, the video for the song "atlas" was one of the best music videos of '07.

in rainbows - radiohead

duh. everyone loves radiohead, and everyone loves to contemplate suicide while listening to kid a on repeat. the progressive release of the album digitally made 'em even more popular amongst indie hipsters who like to think they're part of a bigger plan to make the world a better place by saying things like "well, it's a good thing they released it themselves and added the 'pay what you feel' diatribe to the world. they really are fronting a musical revolution." farrrrrt. hey, dickbag, your pants are tighter than mine and i think that's causing the blood to rush away from your balls and into your brain. if you ever wanna have little kids named after cities in europe, you better loosen the lock on your tighty whities and let those balls hang down. radiohead did what they felt like doing, and out of practicality for whatever reason, just threw the tracks up online for whomever wanted 'em and said "fuck it." yeah, record labels suck a fat nut now, but once upon a time, without 'em you wouldn't have heard a fraction of the bands you like out there 'til the advent of file sharing and myspace.

baby 81 - black rebel motorcycle club

this album helped me to realize that i like making out with girls AND boys. 'nuff said.

grinderman - grinderman

...and so did this album. i've been raving about this record all year, and i ain't gonna stop in 2008. nick cave slays it in whatever form he chooses to take. grinderman is just another continuation of the "nick cave: australian badass" saga. anything this guy touches turns to a deeply emotional river of dying, pain, and sorrow from the depths of your innermost soul. this is album is a little more "upbeat" at times than let's say, anything on boatman's call, but that's not to say it's lacking any depth or character. who hasn't felt the twinge of the "no pussy blues?" yeah, that's what i'm saying.

icky thump - white stripes

jack slays with his axe twice as hard as before, and meg pounds furiously on the skins, trying to keep up. fortunately, it works, and every bit of blues revival and southern influence on this detroit duo seeps through each track like oil sliding through the gears on a factory assembly line.


war stories - unkle

as if james lavelle didn't do enough for the music world by discovering and signing dj shadow to his label when the kid was only 18 years old, he starts his own band, and starts churns out rad collabs with bands like radiohead and queens of the stone age, too. if that wsn't enough, he decides to go out to the middle of desert, presumably do a lot of drugs, and call up a few folks you might've heard of, like the duke spirit, autolux, ian astbury (of "the cult" fame), and yep, you guessed it, everyone's favorite stoner rocker, josh homme to come out and jam. every second of this album is pure fucking gold. i had the fortune to see 'em a few times this year, since i'd heard that he'd added a full backing band to support him on tour. yeah, those shows blew my mind. i spent each time fully baked, so i might be a little partial when i say seeing them perform live was one of the single best musical experiences of my life.


so of course with the good must come the bad, too. since there was a particular lot of mediocre and all around basic garbage in '07, i've decided to water the "worst of" down to shit that could have been good, or was at least done by musicians that have more than proven themselves in the past to be talented and worthy of being defined as an "artist."


white chalk - pj harvey

we get it. you had a couple of abortions, nick cave wrecked your area for a while then stopped, and you got super bummed out and sat down at a piano to write songs about it while dressed up like a victorian seamstress. please go back to singing ambiguous songs about sex and love while screeching about the emotional pain you're subversively seeking and continually setting yourself up for. we liked that polly jean harvey much better than this third-rate tori amos knock off. blech.

year zero - nine inch nails

i'm sorry, i didn't hear this album. i was too busy farting. oh wait, i didn't miss anything? wait, you mean that wasn't me farting? that was the record? fuck.

back to black - amy winehouse

okay, so technically released in 2006, this album didn't get "big" until nme started writing articles about how she got so drunk that she puked on stage somewhere in london and stumbled around in a coke haze at coachella. i'm sorry, but shitty tattoos and songs about various substance addictions are soooooo 1994.

american doll posse - tori amos

in addition to being a contender for one of the worst album titles of 2007, when i stopped cutting myself in my twenties, i stopped listening to tori amos. somehow, she still manages to stick around and find the underground group of lesbians who are still anxiously awaiting another ani difranco album and a more intellectual form of "pussy power." over it. so, so over it.

eat me, drink me - marilyn manson

hey mr. superstar, please stop now. every step you take musically leads you further and further away from the brilliance of antichrist superstar. somehow, you've managed to make a parody out of yourself AND ruin any shred of "evil" servitude and anarchy on the world you once held. newsflash: no one's shocked, anymore, dude, so give it up. no thanks.


so there you have it folks. the best and worst of 2007. i am still alive, and i am still gonna post on here, deal. so here's to 2008; to the hope that we will finally see the release of gnr's chinese democracy, a new my bloody valentine record, another year of keith richards continuing to slay it despite all medical , oh yeah, and a much needed shot in the arm to rock 'n roll. come on, dudes, let's make this one a year to forget!