Wednesday, August 16, 2006

What I've been thinking about for the past two days or so is how great the riff that serves as the chorus to The Flaming Lips' "She Don't Use Jelly" is. The thing about the Flaming Lips- I feel now like people in 2000 felt when they were all "The Soft Bulletin rules" and being confronted with people being like "Aren't they a one-hit wonder from 1993?" only that I'm saying "The Flaming Lips are great" and people are thinking "oh huh yeah I guess you like stuff that is kind of adult-contemporary but with big-ass strings and indie cred" because last time I heard The Soft Bulletin I lamented a youth wasted living like an old man.

But stumbled across the high-larious performance on 90210 and was reminded "Man that guitar line is something killer"- Containing within it that whole My Bloody Valentine thing that led to me writing a post calling noise pop the best music ever, but in a way that's just ridiculously accessible and recognizable- A riff with a great tone, as opposed to the Only Shallow elephant-trunk guitar chord, which is a better sound but isn't, you know, a melody. Like it's poppy as hell but I've heard rumors of the volume of early-nineties Lips shows and I can imagine that as threatening. It's serrated, even though it's bubblegum. Having it hit you in the face is like on The Prisoner where the Rover bubble is on top of McGoohan's face and he's screaming, only imagine that as a sticky bubblegum bubble that once attached stretches the face out a bit.

So many guitar lines are more easily compared to knives than laser beam blasts. Like Fugazi or Sleater-Kinney. That's good stuff too. But I was imagining on my walk home a band with two guitarists trading off lines like those bands (or Televison or what have you) only the sounds are huge, they slash instead of stab. A band like that might as well call them Black Adam Sandler for all that they could be the new shape in entertainment.

Come on nineties revival.

Monday, August 07, 2006

The most recent post at the Rupert Murdoch Must Die blog, "Market Research" actually describes my life right now. It's there instead of here so it could more easily be filled with the jokes that are how I approach. But that's the situation.

On Saturday I went to Philadelphia to see Paper Rad. I bought the DVD and a minicomic. I could've bought more zines if I didn't buy the DVD, which had a lot of its content screened at the show, but I liked the idea of the DVD because it seemed so much more definitive and less ephemeral. This was probably dumb. Whatever. The zines were expensive, five bucks apiece for not a whole lot of reading content.

I meant to write more but Alfe's coming on now. I meant to watch this yesterday but couldn't find a DVD player in the house.

Oh, I didn't say in the Rupert Murdoch Must Die blog where exactly I'm working. Cherry Hill Mall. Consider that an actual blog exclusive. Do with that information what you will.

I pretty much can't get around without the bus system since there's nothing around here to do and it's hot as fuck out. I want to go to Oaklyn and try to track down obscure comics.

Alfe just said a thing about being out of sauce enablers. It's funny because my mom is awful at buying food and so the fridge is filled with condiments and repetition (four boxes of orange juice, what the eff?) and everything that's actual building blocks of meals is stored away in the freezer, not really marked and, you know, inedible without long periods of time spent thawing.

The Paper Rad comic I picked up (I think it's Ben Jones zine, Cartoon Workshop 2, Jessica Ciocci's is called Pig Tales and Jacob Ciocci's thing didn't seem to have a title and both were tempting and if I had ten more bucks on me I would've bought both) ends with the punchline of the character Ralphe saying "Does this burrito have cilantro in it?" Good stuff, good stuff.