Purling Hiss - The Conservatory (show review)

I keep writing stuff. Hopefully I'll have some fiction up soon, but, for now, here's a show review. Tight band, tight show:

http://okc.net/2014/11/17/music-purling-hiss-okc-show-review/

HOLY CRAP!!! IT'S BEEN ALMOST A YEAR!!!

Jeeeeeeeezzzzz... I can't friggin' belee dat itz been dis long. Whelp, here's an album review of the new Purling Hiss record Weidon. Hope you like.

http://okc.net/2014/11/03/music-purling-hiss-review/

Poolhall Assholes

Being a professional writer isn’t easy. Especially when you’re not a great writer. I’ll admit, I think I have my moments sometime, but, this shit doesn’t just come out of nowhere, I have to think about it… a lot. And hard. Long and hard. Here’s a short story:


Charlie, Jordan, and Jimmy were tired of loitering at the coffee shop. They were planning to go to their favorite pub when Jordan interjected. “Hey, let’s go to that shithole, Louie’s, so I can eat and you guys can grab a beer.” They went to Louie’s. Jordan ordered the “Macho Chicken Nachos”, Jimmy the “Southwestern Egg rolls”, while Charlie ordered nothing. The food was as expected… not that good, but it did the job. Fuel. Jordan was nursing a hangover and desperately needed fuel, hence going to Louie’s.
The gang ate then promptly left. To Finnegan’s Fighting Goat to play some pool and reminisce. The pool tables were occupied, but the beer flowed freely. They sat at some tall tables in the back by the pool tables to wait out the old fucks shooting like sloppy drunk assholes. They… took… forever. So long, in fact, Jimmy retired for home. The trio was torn to a duo.
The tables were occupied by two different couples that seemed to know each other. At the beginning of each game one of the pool champions would break and then strike up a conversation with someone from the other table. In between inter-table conversations the couple closest to Jordan and Charlie would sneak in little kisses and long gross make-outs. Gross, indeed! Old drunken redneck smacking sounds followed by bellows of ignorant laughter and probably silent farts. They could only assume the horrible flatulent smell was exuding from these disgusting people.
After a few more grotesque minutes the couple furthest from the two gentlemen, known as Charles and Jordan, left the table for the bar. The lady passed Charlie as he politely asked “Excuse me, are you two done playing?” to which the lady responded “Yes.” with a head nod. That was their “cue”. The two grabbed some pool cues and Jordan began racking the balls. Just as the rack was set the gentleman who had left the table came back, surprised, and started accusing Charlie of stealing the table. Which, by the way, was a free table. It costs no money to play and had been abandoned. “What the hell? You’re stealing the table from us?!” Yelled the portly man to Charlie. “No, we asked the lady you with if you guys were done, and she said ‘yes’.” He replied. But, the old bugger wasn’t having it. “You’re a fucking liar!” This exchange seemed to upset the swine of a man at the other table. He quickly came to the aid of the accuser. “You can’t just fucking steal the table! You gotta play for it!” But, no matter how calmly Charlie would explain that he asked for the table and was told that it was open, they wouldn’t believe him, nor calm down. It seemed the two gentlemen were on their way to a fight with two old fat fucks with necks more red than the Devil’s dick. BUT… Charlie being the calm and collected gentleman he is, cooled the situation down and decided to give the table back. If you ask this author, the gentlemen should have taken the lower road and broke those fucking cues over their skulls. But, what do I know. I guess the moral of the story is, old people are gross. Well, most of them.

The 2nd Worst Morning Ever

 When God gives you lemons you open a door, or something. It’s not always easy to make the best out of a “shitty” situation, but, God dammit, sometimes you just gotta carefully remove your soiled boxer briefs and carry on.
A few nights ago I had a night on the town with a few friends and I’m pretty sure I hit it harder than the rest. I had no intention of going out that night, but after a ten hour shift in a kitchen, I felt I deserved a few drinks. I got off work and leisurely enjoyed a cold brew with my shift meal. Some co-workers discarded a few glasses of wine, so I helped myself. This action swiftly set me up for a successful night.
My buds and I met a local pub, tossed back a few pints, met some d-bag named Ian, who is apparently a really awesome dude (he might say), and split for another bar.
 “WHOA! IAN! YOU‘RE AT THIS BAR TOO?! Another shot? I’d love one.”
We carried on throughout the night like respectful young adults then parted ways. I ended up sleeping, off and on, until about 3:30 pm the next day, right before I had work. The three and half hours I was there were hell. My stomach felt like it was going to fall out of my ass and my head felt… well, my head didn’t feel that bad, actually. It was mainly my tummy. So, I get off work, go home, and slept like a baby for 8 solid hours. This rarely happens, I usually just take two four hour naps everyday.
I, surprisingly, felt really good this morning. It seemed as if my stomach problems were done for. I got dressed for work and went to the bathroom to take a pisser. I felt a little gas and decided to go ahead and let it go. Within a second I instantly regretted this decision. The poot made no sound, and felt… wet. I moved my right butt cheek half an inch and knew right then. I had heard of this sort of thing happening to people my age all the time, but never thought it would happen to me. Well, that’s not entirely true. I’ve heard of it happening a few times, and I have been waiting for years for it to happen to me. I’m actually pretty surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. But, now, after twenty-some-odd years, I have joined the ranks of people who have shit their pants after infancy. And good day to you.

Worst. Post. Ever.

Well, day four. I have nothing to say. Absolutely nothing. I did hear a good joke yesterday. Well, read… I read a good joke yesterday.
Q: Why aren’t there any jokes about the Jonestown Massacre?
A: The punch line is too long.
Get it? They all killed themselves by drinking cyanide laced punch! Genius! Actually, I think a whole lot of the people at Jonestown might have been forced to drink it against their will, and the whole thing was real tragic, but… Tragedy and comedy go together like mustard and coffee. That analogy too much for you? Deal with it. Chump.

Good Gravy

It’s really hard for me to take a stance on most things. I try to be objective in most situations. And probably too objective. Almost to the point of defending horrible human beings and their horrible actions. I’m not, inherently, a bad person. I do bad things from time to time, but, “bad” is a subjective term. SEE! That’s what I’m talking about. If I ever do take a stance on something, it’s a “well, who am I to judge?” stance, which isn't a stance. But, really, Who am I to judge? Everyone is made of the same stuff, we’re all basically the same thing. We all have our own ideologies and prejudices, but at some point we were all exactly the same. If only for about a year or two right after we were all born, respectively. As Pete Holmes says, “It’s amazing to me to think that every person on Earth has, at least one time, had diarrhea.” We can make awful cosmic references to human inter-connectivity, or we can make crude understatements of how every human being is somehow connected. We might take different roads, but we’ll end up in the same place. It’s real easy to get wrapped up in ones life. Bullshit constantly drops from the sky, some people are just better at dodging it. A good way to dodge it is to look at life for what it really is… a big fucking joke. This doesn't have to be a depressing statement if you don’t want it to be. Life’s a joke, so laugh at it. Have fun. Tear shit up, but not people. A lot of people make it seem like the human race is a terrible disease slowly killing itself and it’s home, and that may very well be the case, but, let’s not let those fucks ruin our party, it’s only midnight.

Workin' It

Stream of consciousness #2 - I have to write. I don’t know what about, but I have to write, so, I’m doing these “stream of consciousness” things. I think, then I write. I hear it’s some kind of writing exercise that writers do.

My day off work consists of such:
Noon - Too early to get up on such a beautiful day.
1:45pm - Sandwich, back to bed.
2:00pm - Think about what it would be like to get out of bed. Oh, all the things I could do.
8:00pm - Coffee, write.
9:00pm - Think about how stupid I am for having a job.
4:37am - Lay awake in bed and think about how stupid I am for not going to bed at a reasonable hour.
4:39am - Sleep.

I’m a busy man with nothing to do. I make food for a bunch of people I’ve never met, nor do I care to meet. They surely know what Italian food is. These people ALL HAVE TASTE… GOOD TASTE.

Takin' Care of Business

Stream of consciousness #1 - Ok, so, the Casualties are rapists. Who cares? People rape and get raped. I’m not condoning it by any means, but… They’re not that good anyway, so you shouldn't support them on principle of that. In other news, let’s do this for real. Let’s start a fire. At a church. Let’s burn that shit down then move on the Washington and burn that shit down. Revolution? Fuck no. No one cares about that shit. It’s all a bunch of bologna. Let’s just wreck shit until no one wants it anymore and we can take back what is rightfully ours. You know, like Justin Timberlake did with N’sync. We’ll plant our seed in every town we pass through and kill the old people who try to stop us. We’re not in this to change anyone’s lives but our own. We’re selfish and we know it. They made us this way and then try to blame us for it. FUCK THEM! Who are they? They are the old, they are the ignorant, they are you. Well, maybe not you, but they’re definitely not us. Creating isn't easy, unless you’re into that hippy dippy shit and believe that everything is beautiful. Everything is not beautiful. Most things are disgusting, in fact. Like rape. Rape is disgusting and we've been the ass end of it for too long. Well, guy, I’m done being raped. If the revolution does come I’m not stock piling a bunch of guns and canned food. I’m sitting in front of my record player until the electricity goes out, then I’ll go sit outside for a while and watch the stars every night. Nothing romantic, nothing beautiful, just day-to-day shit. Keepin’ it real. As long as pot comes from the ground you’ll always have something to do. Stay on your toes, dress warm when it’s cold, hold your babies tight… the road might get a little bumpy.

The Coolest Year Ever

I haven't seen my apartment in days. And I haven't updated this shit in a while. Who cares? I don't.

Anyway, I've been thinking about the past year, you know, 2012. Righteous ass year, right, bro? Sure. The perfect way to cap off a shitty year... sucker punched by some douche named Dino. Couldn't ask for anything better.

Really, though, I thought this shit was supposed to end. Fuck the Mayans.

Here's a badass review of music from this past year from Brady W-Hunt. Read it. All of it.

http://vastogaw.wordpress.com/2012/12/31/top-5-albums-of-2012/

Tales From The Other Side pt. 2

This story is creepy in a different way.

One beautiful spring afternoon in mid May I was doing a trash run at the main apartment complex and was approached by a tenant. He asked me if I wanted to smoke, but I declined because I'm paranoid and the situation kind of freaked me out. He said if I ever wanted to take him up on his offer to just stop by his apartment because he's always there. The next day I did. It's was pretty late in the day and I had nothing else to do, so I thought I'd be able to get away with it. We both took geebs and shot the shit for a few minutes before my supervisor called me. There was some older lady wanting some spackled over holes covered with paint. Extremely nervous, high, and red-eyed I gathered my supplies and went to the lady's apartment.

I walked in and the first thing I noticed were the walls. Every wall in the place was almost completely covered with little porcelain trinkets. At first I thought it was extremely weird but soon convinced my balls high self that it wasn't that weird, "Ya know, some people just like worthless pieces of porcelain to cover their entire wall." But then I looked up and saw the people who lived there. They weren't overly disgusting looking or anything, but they were a strange looking group of people. There were three of them and they were all sitting on a couch watching some Queen Latifah movie. On the far left was the older white lady, I'd say mid 50s to 60s, who talked to me about painting the random spots in her place, on the far right was a very old lady, I'm assuming the other lady's mother, in the middle was a young very frail looking African American male, and on his lap was a tiny dog; some kind of dirty brown Maltese looking creature. Just as I don't believe in ghosts, I am no racist, but this grouping seemed strange to me.

Anyway, the entire time I'm painting the walls the dog would not stop growling and barking at me, followed by the African American fellow quietly in an almost southern and feminine voice telling the dog to "hush now." I look up at the dog and people and nervously chuckle because in my head I just fucking know that they know that I am high as balls. My eyes more red than the devil's dick, the faint smell of piny skunky weed smoke coming off me, I look again, and not one of them, excluding the dog, are paying the slightest bit of attention to me. They were too enthralled with that fabulous Queen Latifah and all of her zany but heartwarming antics. I hurried with the painting, painting a wall faster than any wall I had painted thus far, said "have a nice day", and got the fuck out of dodge. That was my last day.

Tales from the Other Side Pt. 1

Ma halo, you guys.

It has been a while since I've last updated. Not that I even really have anything interesting to say, just thought I should put something up before I loose all interest.

Over the past couple of months I've been working as a make-ready for an apartment complex. That is until I got tired of the grind and quit the fuck out of that job. For those of you don't know, a make-ready is someone who goes into an apartment right after it is vacated and fixes, very cheaply, I might add, all the damages before the next tenant moves into said apartment. It was easy enough work, but I got another higher paying, not as stressful job offer and decided to move on. Also, I hated it.

The property management company I was working for actually owned several apartment complexes and a few houses. One of the first "assignments" they had for me was a house located somewhat close to the country club area of town kind of secluded down it's own private drive. They had recently acquired it by way of an estate sale. Meaning someone probably fucking died in the house. Didn't know that for sure at first, but what I did know, is that the house had been vacant for about two years, and apparently some critters had found their way into the attic and made themselves at home. And you could tell as soon as you opened the front door. Immediately the thick smell of errant feces would hit you in the face and at first all you can do is gag. Eventually, though, you kind of get use to it, not in an enjoying "Yeah, this isn't so bad", but more of a "Fuck, I'm going to have smell this shit for the next eight hours" kind of way. The house itself was kind of cool. Built sometime in the early 70s, it had a lot of front and back yard space with a trail going down to a pond. I'd like to describe it better, but I'm not really sure how to, and... it's just a house. So, fuck it. The main thing I want to talk about is the creepy shit that went down while I was painting.

One of the first days I was working I had to paint some cabinets above a desk, where I found some paper trash. Old receipts, loose leaf paper, and envelope stuff. On one of the envelopes I saw a name of a man and decided to try and find out more about the previous owners by "Google"ing the name. The only thing I found was an obituary of the wife of the man. Turns out she died in the house.

I'm not generally someone who believes in ghosts and the like, but there were some weird things going on in there. Not intensely crazy things, but loud tapping on walls, doors opening and shutting, lights turning off and on. Just some weird shit. And like I said I don't believe in ghouls and shit, but that stuff creeped me out. Especially since I was alone the majority of the time and having just found out about the old lady dying in the house.

One moment, in particular, that was especially heinous was in the kitchen. I heard some really loud bangs coming from the ceiling. Being the crazily paranoid person I am, my first thought was "Holy shit a ghost!". But then slowly realized it was probably just the animal living in the attic because of the constant scurrying. All of the sudden it stopped right above the oven. After that there was just scratching noises over and over and over. I finished painting in the kitchen and ignored the noises. The next day, after telling my supervisor, Randy, about the noises I heard, he decided to bring out an exterminator. Well, he was more of a trapper. A real good ol' boy from the sticks. He had grown up catching little woodland creatures all the time for fun and thought he could turn that into a career, I guess. As I'm showing Randy where all the commotion was coming from we noticed blood dripping from the oven vent, and the smell in the house had increased ten fold. Seriously, it was goddamn disgusting. I thought it smelled like a zoo before, it now smelled like a zoo mixed with animal dukes mixed with rotting meat. In fact it was the worst thing I had ever smelled. I think. After a few seconds of exploring the oven vent, the trapper fellow found the little guy who had tried to make this house his own. He turned out to not be so little. And a possum. He had gotten himself stuck in the oven vent and tried to chew his way out. When the trapper made it to him he was long dead and missing an arm. Hence the blood.

Here's a sample of the work I was doing...

Now here... is the rest of the story

Seriously, here's part two of my SXSW adventure this year.

http://okc.net/2012/03/20/broken-dreams-and-chicken-waffles/

Stay tuned to my blog for the "guess-which-song-this-is-and-you-win-a-kiss" contest. And, you know, maybe my girlfriend will even give you a peck on the cheek. I haven't talked to her about it, but I'm sure she's cool with it.

cheers

Ya Blew It!

Hey, so I'm kind of published or something... Read it if you dare.

http://okc.net/2012/03/14/sxsw-2012-pt-1-rocking-the-saddest-block-party-of-all-time/


Also, I'm going to try and start doing this "thing" where I quote part of a song, reference a song, or post a video of me playing part of a song. If you can guess what song it is, you win. A kiss. from me. Good luck.

We're Not All Racists

I should know by now not to make drunken posts on the internet in the middle of the night.

The last one, however, seemed urgent at the time. Also, I was really drunk...

So about two weeks ago my bro Turner and I carried on with our normal Friday night ritual of going to the bar and getting blind stinking drunk. We met up with some old friends from high school and continued with the drinking. I don't remember the exact time we all decided to leave for another bar, but I remember it being around 12:30 am.

We were within walking distance to the next bar, so Turner and I decided to meet the rest of our party there, who were traveling by car.

*A quick P.S.A. Don' t drink and drive. It's dangerous.*

We get to "The Strip", where the next bar was, and it appears our friends were in a bit of a scuffle with some of the local douche-bag-frat-bros in front of Pita Pit. Supposedly, one of the d. bags through an entire pita at my friends car and started yelling a bunch of racist shit at her, she is noticeably native American. Let's call her Deana. What was said exactly, I don't know, this had happened before Turner and I got there. But, by the time we roll up, it's a full on brawl, people started pushing each other, grappling with each other, and punching each other, a dude even got choked out. So all this shit is going on, and another friend, Deric, who happens to be black/one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life, non violently stands up for his friend, who was publicly being verbally assaulted, and is immediately tackled and pinned up against a car. While Deric is defenselessly pinned down by d. bag #2, d. bag # 3 runs at full speed and clocks him in the dome. D. bag #3 is quickly grabbed by his bro and ushered into the Coney Island where he wasn't confronted on his act of cowardice.

By this time the cops show up and start to get the situation under control and as they are calming everyone down, they put Deric and Deana's boyfriend in cuffs. If there were two people involved in this whole mess to be put in cuffs it most certainly should not have been them.They eventually let Deana's white boyfriend go, but arrest Deric for public intoxication. To add insult to injury, while he's sitting in a cell, he asks the arresting officer when he will be released and a "hampering" charge is added to his ticket.

I know in the grand scheme of things this really isn't that bad. But, it was totally wrong, and still a little hard for me to take. A black dude got a P.I. after he was attacked by a group of drunken white frat boys. Racist shit happens all the time and everywhere, it's just hard to believe that it's so blatant.

The only conclusion I can come to after seeing this is not to trust frat boys or cops, and that life is unfair. Which isn't far, at all, from where I was before. I suppose the only thing I regret about the whole ridiculous fight/arrest is that I didn't pull out my phone and record it, just so everyone could see how fucking stupid it was. But, I do live in Stillwater, Oklahoma, so I'm sure I'll have more chances to catch frat boys and cops being assholes.

Peace

LIFE

I live in Stillwater, OKLAHOMA.

 I saw a BLACK MAN hit in the face and arrested for standing up for a woman being taunted.

STILLWATER OKLAHOMA POLICE OFFICERS ARE RACIST.

Thank you OSU.

It's been a while/In honor of SOPA&PIPA here's some copyrighted material

What does it all mean? Not to get too existential on you, but shit.

It’s been a while since I’ve written/typed anything, and I’m sorry for that. Not to you so much, but to me. I’m sorry to me for not writing more. It’s an uphill battle, but not a totally unpleasant one.

A lot has been going on. For instance, I’m in this band, right… and we had this show, ok… Long story short, a lot of hard work was put into it and it showed. Kind of. Scratch that. That “kind of” makes it seem shitty and it was not. It actually went better than anyone thought it would. That being said… it could have gone better. But, overall, it was a success. And you should have been there. It was fun and you would have liked it. Assuming I know what you think is fun/you weren’t there.

Here’s a video from a friend: 

That and the holidays. You know how much agnostics like the holiday season. So you can imagine how busy I was. To be honest I’m lazy.

Anyhoo… I’ve been going through one of my weird “what does it all mean” phases, only this time I’m not finishing off bottles of liquor by myself. This time it’s a little different. I’m taking in information with a grain of salt and trying my hardest not to freak the fuck out every time I think of the possibility of the world ending. BTW, just watched this documentary a few friends suggested called “Collapse”. Check it out. At the most it’s scary. At the least it’s informative. Either way, a good fucking film.

Aight, back to it. So I’m constantly thinking about these little problems I’ve been going through. We’ve all got ’em. Stupid little problems that we all blow way out of proportion all the time. Boy/girl problems, being a little behind with money, school assignments, you know, little bullshit that no one cares about but you. Meanwhile our government is selling us out, passing legislation that negates basic American  rights and stops the constant flow of free information (to say the least, anyway). Then there’s complete civil unrest going on in other countries, I STILL don’t have an Iphone, and for some reason keep thinking about this fucking god complex I have. I chalk it up to growing up Baptist and being reminded of Hell all the time. Fuck.

Then one night I’m trying to go to sleep and just happen to pop in a VHS copy of “Monty Python’s: The Meaning of Life” and I’m reminded of just how completely retarded (no offense to retards) “modern” life is.

Why the fuck would I want an Iphone anyway? It’s made by children and won’t improve my life in any significant way. And then I start thinking maybe it’s good the world is coming to an end. The way we live is totally backward. As “children of the earth” we live completely disconnected from it. We don’t make our own clothes, we don’t make our own houses, some of us don’t make our own food (harsh generalization, I know, just stay with me). And then I think back to “Collapse” and every other “Doomsday” documentary that I’ve watched, that wasn’t made by a cointelpro (*cough* Alex Jones, *cough*), and they all come back to the same thing… human beings going back to the way we were, hand in hand living with the Earth, not raping it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a free-loving head-in-the-clouds hippie who thinks the worlds problems can be solved so simply, but that last thought does give me some small level of comfort.

Whatevs. I just needed to get some things out of my head. Time for a cigarette and some sleep. Here are The Spits.

Top 8, you say?

With all these blogs e'rywhere putting out they're "top" whatever  lists of the same boring music, here's Brady W.Hunt's list. It might seem like a lot, but it's not/well worth it. Enjoy...

"so many people have said that the essence of rock and roll is danger.  danger is rock and roll and vice versa.  if that is the case, then where is the rock in roll in 2011?   i don't think i am the only one who doesn't believe the big, focal indie bands nowadays pose any real threat to anyone.  sure, they put out some good music, but so does Nickleback, if you're a Nickleback fan.

even though Austin is hopelessly insane, with all the music in that town, it still functions.  it is a town built around weirdness and individuality and with all the chaos and originality there, the town stands.  kids flock to Austin these days for different reasons than they flocked to Austin ten years ago.  Austin has become an industry, a cool one, but today rebellion in Austin is expected, it's almost passé.

I used the example of Austin only to point out one aspect of the big picture, one that perhaps carries the most clout lately.  the pendulum swings back and forth, and all people and tastes are different, and what may be cutting edge for one town’s scene may be embarrassingly outdated to another.  i don't think the urge in a listener's head to be fucked with or taken for a ride is forever going to be satisfied with heavy metal music or skulls tattoos. i think what is scary and dangerous is what you aren't expecting, or what you never saw coming.  not the brute force bear that you run into head on and have to fight, but the schizo vulture that lands on your head and tries to peck your fucking eyes out.  you're never safe from that fucker even with an elephant gun.  but whatever.

since i don't listen to too much new music these days, this is just representative of what i've delved into over the past year and took to.  I’m just looking for things that strike me as beautiful and also hopefully surprise me or creep me out. 

the only rule in this list is that i am not considering Oklahoma bands.  I don’t want to dishonor their great releases by trying to pretend I am objective about their place in the grand scheme.  I am not a therapist, I’ve got enough biases to discredit my input, and I wholeheartedly support DEERPEOPLE, Lizard Police, Guardant, The Boom Bang, and BRONCHO.  All of them released fantastic, game-changing shit this year, and I am very proud and excited to be a part of this latest growing surge of music.  So here’s to OK.

this is what i like from the rest of the picture.  this is what is good in my opinion.  this is what i'd put my money on. i’m not going to defend myself or my choices, I’m just defending the records, because all of these records totally kicked ass and I’m looking forward to growing old with every one of them.

1- Tyler, The Creator - "Goblin" - Mr. Creator is an old soul that sticks everything on the line.  DGAF self-destruction to the extreme.  A concept album that involves a 19 year old skater psycho-analyzing himself over the entire course of two LPs, with all the elements of great literature: setups, foreshadowing, punchlines, climaxes, character development, paradoxes, irony, drama.  In a world where emcees beat their chests to prove they’re the toughest, Tyler’s attack is to puff up his chest and lay out every single demon and insecurity in his soul to the point that anyone who wanted to could rip him apart. but no one is going to, he has too much talent and conviction, and he has much more welling up inside of him.  he shares his self-doubts with a confidence that makes you realize he has already come to terms with every inch of his young adult soul, and he’s now turned his brutally analytical eye on the world at large, looking for blood.  lyrics so goddamn biting they shouldn’t be coming out of a kid.

2- Screeching Weasel - "First World Manifesto" - Ben Weasel is the face of what I believe to be punk rock in 2011.  he is a conservative and unapologetically Catholic, and he is a bigger asshole than ever.  he talks shit on everyone, and he punched a girl.  his bandmates couldn't handle the fire and Ben has since gone on without them.  he has even had to say "farewell and fuck you" to bandmate and old buddy Danny Vapid.  seems like everyone has turned their back on Ben, and fuck them.  Ben is the same as he's been since he was writing for Maximumrocknroll and playing basements.  he never tolerated "punks" who got their cages rattled easy, and he hasn't quit being the voice of reason in a world full of self-righteous hippies and pompous lily-white critics.  his lyrics are more urgent than ever, he is seriously pissed and concerned about what is going on, in a world where the only way to truly offend the jaded little shits of the world is by playing traditional pop-punk and going to Bible study, and saying things because you really mean it.  you may not feel the way i do but i think Ben punching that chick is not that big a fucking deal, considering what punk used to be, or what we have been told it once was.  luckily, the songs are great.  they make you think, and not in a way that crust punks on dope make you think about anarchy and freeganism.  if you listen to his lyrics you're going to see the real counterpoint, the 2011 counterpoint.  it's time to put down our tired, sacred cow causes and ask ourselves what the fuck do we care about if we can't even forgive a punk rocker for hauling off on a mouthy cunt.  Ben Weasel has been one of the most well-spoken figures in music since he began, and if you can't step to his extreme rhetoric, you're just fuel for the fire that isn't about to die out.  *not endorsed by Mr. Weasel

3- Skull Defekts w/ Daniel Higgs - "Peer Amid" - Confrontational, effortless hypnotic ragas with punchy late 80s Sonic Youth timbres and way, way harsh lyrics.  good for newbies to the Occult and angry weirdos in general.  a well-orchestrated and deliberate album start to finish, it shows true appreciation for complexity rather than a perverse adoration of it. the Defekts and Higgs assume authority with their art, they are focused and motivated, there is real conviction in this record that rises above the bullshit “hipster” gimmicks that are so prevalent nowadays.  The Skull Defekts are showing promise and potential, they could be one of the leaves of the next big thing, whateverthefuck that's supposed to mean.  in short, it's evil, scary, well-put together noise rock.  Charlie Manson would dig it.

4- Starfucker - "Reptilians" - synth-pop that warms the soul and stirs the mind.  one of the few albums this year that i've played over and over on repeat and not gotten enough of yet.  lush beauty, effortlessly listenable.

5- Zomes - "Earth Grid" - if a space alien came down and asked me what's going on right now in the world of consciousness i'd play him Zomes and tell him it's the same thing that's been going since the 60s, but lonelier and exponentially more confusing.  poignant loops of hundred dollar sound colors and breathtaking swaths of lush oscillations that serves no purpose whatsoever.  a work of true beauty.

6- The New Blockaders - "Antinomia II" (7" EP) - maybe this is a pretentious inclusion on the list, seeing how it's a super scarce 7" that you have to have ordered from Europe via the label.  who cares.  The New Blockaders were the original gangstas of noise music back in the early 80s and they are still the Picassos.  always fascinating to listen to, never smacks of the gory postmodern motifs of new wave of tape-culture noise, yet manages to hit harder and scarier.  the Blockaders are the Shakespeare of noise, everyone else is just jockeying for the top slot in the maddening crowd outside the palace walls.

7- Horse Meat Disco - "Horse Meat Disco III" - a fantastic mixtape of disco tracks that seamlessly spans two full cds without a single gap. authentic club disco in all its glory, produced with respect for the drama and flamboyance and style of the history of the genre.  a great reinterpretation of the deep cuts and fleeting hits of the 70s and early 80s, with a more than few surprises too from the modern era.  groovy and uplifting, a fantastic trip though an old-school mindset.  deserves a listen. hella fun.

8- Bryan Black Presents Black Asteroid - "The Engine EP" (EP) - Bryan Black is the resurrection of everything I miss about techno.  eccentric without spraying his guts everywhere.  he has a classy sense of restraint, and a spot-on aesthetic.  like everything about him, it's just a millimeter away from generic, but it's a tightly controlled millimeter.  whether you see it or you don't see it, it's hiding right under your nose."

For more of this crazy s.o.b.s written work, go to these:
http://wtflygas.blogspot.com/
http://heyhomieyourdicksonfire.blogspot.com/

Fuckin' shit, bro...

I have a few "what the fuck?" moments to share.

So, I've been in contact with this dude from Oklahoma City who had a reel to reel tape machine for sale. It looked pretty old, but still worked fine, had four inputs, and it was only fifty dollars. My girlfriend, being the awesome bitch that she is, wanted to get me a Christmas gift, and since everything else that I want isn't exactly a reasonable price, she decided to get the reel to reel. Sweet! One problem... Old boy with the tape machine sold it out from under me, that dirty bastard. So as a replacement gift she was going to buy me this old snare drum from a local antique store. Sweet! x2! Not sweet x2. Someone beat us to the punch. It seemed Christmas would be yet another let down. What the fuck?

BUT WAIT A FUCKIN' TICK! Amy's so awesome, she was all "Hey bro, let's just go to the city and I'll buy you some records (because the places to get records in Stillwater suck/= antique stores). And I was all "FUCK YEAH!" So, we went to the great city of Oklahoma... City... and hit up the mall for some friend gifts and Sabarro for some pizza. BTW, I'm not sure if you guys know about this, but there's a store called Forever 21. What the fuck is that place about? Goddamn, I've never felt like more of an idiot for walking into a place. Wall to wall full of dumbshit clothes with the most annoying dance pop playing loud as shit over the speakers. I dunno, I think this place is supposed to be hip or something. What the fuck?

Anyhoo, after the fuckin' mall, we fuckin' went to fuckin' Vintage Stock. HOLY SHIT. I had never been to a Vintage Stock before and nearly shat myself upon entering. My god, they have pretty much every nerdy thing I could ever want. Ever. Long story short we left with about $25 worth of VHS tapes (which comes out to about 18 tapes, including "Encino Man", signed by both Pauly Shore and Brendan Fraser), a copy of Tony Hawk's Pro Skater 2 for N64, a Mario Paint mouse for SNES, and a giant Ghostbusters poster. What the fuck?

We finally made our way to Guestroom where Amy bought me "Melted" by Ty Segall and I bought a few cassette tapes and some pins/buttons. Alright, here's the last "What the fuck?" moment. Back in "the day", when I was listening to more 80s hardcore than any kid not from the 80s should listen to, there was this band that I remember called Murphy's Law. I know I had at least one compilation with them on it, but don't really remember hearing them. I saw one of their tapes for two bucks and decided to buy it. Fuckin' dumb. I was an idiot and didn't look at the date on the back. 1991. This is a rule that is true for pretty much any hardcore band. If they were cool for like two years in the early 80s, they were probably shitty as shit in the early 90s. One of the dumbest albums I think I've heard. It's called "The Best of Times". It wasn't. It was actually the worst of times. It sounds like 80s Red Hot Chili Peppers, but shittier. Not only did I not see the date on the back, but I totally skipped all of the track titles. "Big Spliff", "Freaktown", "Santa's Got a Brand New Bag", "Hemp for Victory". Ya know, all the hits. I mean, fuck, man. What the fuckity fuck fuck fuck-a-roo? Were they kidding?! Bunch of fuckin' douche bags. Shit.

STUPID^^

Ok, it's time to make a smoothie. Later.

What I'm working with...

Aight you guys, I'm somewhat of an audiophile and have been separated from my records and record player for far too long. Well, we're back together again, and with the help of my girlfriend's mom we are better than ever. For helping her move a few things she gave me an Onkyo stereo receiver, a Sony 5 disc cd changer, a JVC dual cassette deck, and a real nice pair of Technics monitors. I got HOOKED up.

Thankfully cassette tapes have come back into my life, and in a huge way. Amy's kickass mom gave me all her badass tapes from the 80s. Far too many to mention in this little blurb, but rest assured, they are bad a.

Went to a local thrift store today and added a few to the collection...

Depeche Mode, The Replacements, The Association, and Bongwater. All free as shit.

Anyway, keep checking back. I should have some pretty cool shit coming up.

OFTEN THE RAPIST

Often the Rapist - "Often the Rapist", from their self titled album "Often the Rapist"

http://soundcloud.com/jordanbayhylle/often-the-rapist