| Thursday, April 5, 2001 12:20 a.m. PST |
| i like to think of myself as a pretty open-minded guy. my tastes range from bleeding-edge mental workouts like don cab and autechre to readily accessible pop music (e.g., hits by smashing pumpkins, dr. dre and tears for fears). but as far as arty stuff goes, i also believed, until today, that i enjoyed some pretty extreme stuff rockwise. my limits are generally fairly far out and specific when it comes to auditory abrasion (i like godflesh but not morbid angel; alec empire but not kid 606), so i'm always surprised when i hear something that's too "out there" for me. i discovered the name of another of my limits today; it is arab on radar.
this band's sound can only be described as an uneducated mockery of math-rock by individuals who think it's lame. i think of it as if a bunch of drunken ac/dc fans ran into fugazi in a club, then stepped on stage to do their parodic impression of red medicine. arab on radar abandon all pretensions to rhythm, meter, chords, or lyrical comprehension in their compostitions (sic). the result is a repetitive, barely intelligible mess with juvenile plays on words such as "molar system" and "st. patrick's gay parade" for song titles. i'm all for dissonance, probably much more than the next guy in fact, but c'mon people: let's pretend as if we care about what we're doing.
and remember: this isn't objective musiccrit, it's just one man's opinion. mine. so maybe i just felt like dissing today. |
| Monday, April 2, 2001 08:13 p.m. PST |
| i got a new track for y'all beeeyatches: "real muthaphuckkin' scenestas", a tribute to all my hardworking indiestry peeps that keep the music rockin'. i managed to sneak in a sample of the dismemberment plan's "academy award" and a british wanker's impression of ice cube, along with the requisite drums and bass. if you ever wanted to hear two-step and math rock on the same cut, go for it. i won't say you won't regret it, but innovating, like pimpin', ain't easy. |
| Monday, April 2, 2001 11:39 a.m. PST |
| i have two choices right now: i could either a) rant about certain individuals (well, just one person really) who've made my life rather depressing of late, or. . . b) i could discuss my incipient obsession with vh1's rock & roll jeopardy! in light of how i've beaten the former topic to death several times over, i believe i'll spare the faithful my vitriol today. plus, i'd hate to hurt anyone's feelings. ennyway, rock jeopardy's got me hooked. as an amateur pop-music historian, i love pitting my sizeable knowledge base against the admittedly capable contestants on the show. probably the most relevatory (but not quite surprising) aspect of the show is the fact that i tend to know all the questions to answers regarding the musicology of the 90s. that makes sense considering my age, but i think it also speaks to the relative ease of the questions culled from yesterdecade. if i ever was on the show, i'd definitely be disappointed that all my wonderful indie knowledge would be of no use to me. but hey, i have to drive through LA on my way back home in june, so you may see my gorgeous mug mopping the floor with two other competitors yet... |
| Saturday, March 31, 2001 09:37 p.m. PST |
| as i was getting into my car after eating at in&out this evening, a scary-looking tattooed guy stepped out from a luxury car and accosted me. he said he had recently gotten out of prison, and needed money for gas. for about a second i thought he was trying to rob me, and then i realized he probably wouldn't try anything that stupid in a public area. he delivered a long explanation about how he couldn't help himself and how he'd already asked 9 people for money and gotten turned down and how he knew it was his responsibility but he didn't know what to do. now i'm just as naive as the average upper-middle-class college student, but i know enough not to be judgmental when an ex-con asks me for money. so i gave him five bucks and wished him goodluck. i don't know what he intended to do with the cash and i don't particularly care. the situation made me think, though: what if he had been a desperate, strung-out junkie with a gun or a knife? would i be here writing this entry right now? was it fate, or just luck? who the hell can say, right?
but, seeing as how i am alive, i may as well talk about music. a little known fact about yours truly is that during high school, before i got into indie rock, i was a big industrial fan. and i'm not just talking about nine inch nails and ministry, although those guys used to be pretty cool. i was into bands you've probably never heard of (not to be conceited or nuthin'; i dug diatribe, chemlab and christ analogue, among others). anyway, one of the bands was hellbent, whose 1996 debut lp 0.01 mixed mellow electronic rhythms with whispered vocals about the intersection of biology and technology. their new record hardcore vanilla gives the production a much-needed upgrade while incorporating trip-hop flourishes no doubt assimilated during their five-year dormancy. actually, the thing i like most about these guys is the fact that unlike, say, trent reznor or al jourgensen, they don't take their subject matter seriously at all, and it makes the music so much easier to listen to. the songs are top-notch, setting a sexy yet menacing chill-out mood in the vein of sister machine gun and haujobb (on their last record, anyway). so it'll work as smooth, rhythmic bgm if you're trying to put back the romance to one of those blanched, black-clad, fey goth types. or, as in my case, it's also good for freaking people out on a dark night's drive. |
| Friday, March 30, 2001 01:16 a.m. PST |
| decent indie rock posters are difficult to come by, unless you happen to work ata rock club, or have some other way of snagging promo material. i don't, so while i was home i dug through my closets in search of old magazines to scavenge for wall adornments for my dorm room. i found two cmjs from 1996, from which i procured a jawbox interview photo and a versus full-page ad for secret swingers. i also ran across the december 1993 issue of magnet, which i have no idea how i obtained (i wasn't really down with indie rock back then). but i found an alias records ad featuring icky mettle, a full-page no alternative blurb, and a succinct yet informative interview with don cab. all that stuff's on my walls now; and undoubtedly i'll be fielding more questions than ever from the clueless residents that wander into my room from time to time seeking computer assistance.
so. . . how 'bout that new pornographers record? eh? i'll admit, it's a far cry from the skewed math-rock i usually listen to, but it's obvious the band is having a blast mining the british invasion hooks and harmonies of the sixties and throwing in plenty of organ melodies for good measure. fun, fun stuff; well worth picking up for fans of quality britpop. also, i'm hopelessly hooked on the opening track off complete b-sides, "river euphrates." i think it's now tied with "dig for fire" for my favorite pixies song ever. another thing about that record: i never noticed how david lovering's singing is far superior to his drumming. the pixies' genius is undeniable, but they had one of the least distinguished rhythm sections in indie rock. lovering used the same kick-snare-kick-snare beat on about 90% of their songs, and kim deal's basslines were adequate but not exactly groundbreaking. except on "hey"; that riff is mad snaky. anyway, lovering gives us a good idea of what morrissey would sound like if he were a baritone. i guess sounding british was the thing back whenever the hell "make believe" and "la la love you" were recorded. that's what we need inventive, schizophrenic guys like frank black for: to beat back that instinct toward blind imitation and plagiarism that so many musicians out there aren't even trying to confront. |
|
