One Song

I saw Wolfmother on stage at Lollapalooza in 2006 and it stands out as one of the greatest visions of rock and roll I've ever fucking seen. That show is so high on my list of awesome I shit at the thought of new Wolfmother being released that can stack up to that one half hour experience almost ten years ago.  And then this lands in my inbox this morning.  FUCK. "Victorious" is fucking monstrous. If I changed oil for a living, I would fucking wail on this shit so hard in my greasy overalls. This is like fucking a dirty Billy Joel video waiting to happen. Fucking hell yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas. HOW DOES A BAND WITH THE BEST RIFFS EVER RIFFED KEEP COMING UP WITH EVEN MORE OF THE BEST RIFFS EVER RIFFED? HAVENT ALL THE RIFFS BEEN RIFFED?!?!?!?!?!?...

Andrea Silva again? Jesus balls on a handcrafted bacarat table pinned to pinterest, tweeted on twitter, and for sale on etsy, this shit is fucking cool pillow chill.  When you come across a voice that's as milky and calming as a cup of warm milk before you start taking shot after shot of rumpleminz, you hold on to that fucking voice, and I'd like to publicly declare that I've decided to keep Andrea Silva. She's mine. "Down & Under" now proves that it's possible to be both accidentally disarming and violently relaxed with a tempo that never peaks past just barely awake, but a meter that's ripe for drowning in.  REMEMBER THIS WOMAN. But then again how the fuck can you forget spinning yourself in circles fresh out of the shower with a towel...

I remember it like it was yesterday.......well, because it was yesterday.....  As I dragged my cursor across my bookmarks toolbar on Chrome, I accidentally clicked into Hype Machine. I knew I clicked on something, but at the time I didn't know on what. In a short fit of unreasonable panic I clicked my mouse again, ended up in another tab, got a phone call, and turned the volume down.  After my phone call I turned the voume back up and this powerful and beautiful track was playing. I thought: Who the fuck was singing this song?  I thought: Why do my guts hurt? I thought: Why is it a frigid yet balmy 73 degrees in my under-shorts? I frantically cicked through the 15 browser tabs I had open on my browser. Playing on Hype Machine was Donna Missal and the track was 'Keep Lying...

Dear Radical Face,  Goddamn you fucking asshole, I want to wrestle you to the ground and sit on you until you say you're fucking sorry for always making me feel.  I'm just kidding.  I want give you a huge bear hug. And then kick you in the dick because that's some shit I would do.  If your new teaser song, "Small Hands", is any indication of what we're to expect from your upcoming records (apparently all recorded and on their way down the LP birth canal), then I'm already bibbed-up and salivating. I'm slamming the silverware on the table, brobro. Pass the potatoes.  Love, Brando Radical Face is a knife. Sharp, painful, but effective. True. Radical Face's penchant for ultra-personal imagery, childhood innocence, alternatively celebrated...

I'm not going to beat around the hedge. I'm a whore for Danger Mouse. He produced my favorite Black Keys album. There's fucking Gnarls Barkley. There's fucking Broken Bells. There's that Dark Night Of The Soul album with Sparklehorse. I could go on, but you get the idea. I'm also a whore for Sam Cohen....for his music, but also because his hair is always perectly sculpted and a couple of years ago Tim, the Syffal Papa Bear, sent me a video text of Sam yelling: 'HEY TOM.....Fuck You....WOOOOOoooo.'  I love Sam. And if you don't love Sam, it's because you haven't listened to his music. He used to put out albums under the moniker Yellowbirds, which sound like Roy Orbison on LSD. And now he's...

Sometimes, all you want is a fucking chorus you can scream, a bass line you can play in the shower, and an air lead guitar you can bend over towards your toes and lick the fuck out of. I don't want to know the intentions behind the lyrics, I don't want to know what cabin the shit was recorded in, I don't want to know what sort of irritable bowels these lads in Rare Monk might have, JUST GIVE ME THE SONG BRO. I ONLY NEED THE FUCKING SONG. Thankfully Rare Monk don't ever really send in the fluffer to get things moving. Rare Monk are their own fluffer and their own fluffer is Rare Monk. These dudes don't start gradually or try to act sexy to get your blood pumping, they just put shit in their mouth and here I am singing...

What the fuck is happening to me? I intentionally wanted to hate this shit because the pitch email used the word "hooky" and I wanted to STAB THAT FUCKING WORD IN THE GUNT. Then Party Nails starts in with the 80s sass, all sittin on her bed kickin her white ankle bobby socks listening to her own jams on a pastel pink boombox.  AH FUCK, I'M SNAPPING AND MY ELBOWS ARE CONNECTED TO MY TORSO AND I'M MICHAEL STIPE-ING FROM THAT ONE R.E.M. VIDEO AND I'M EMBARASSED FOR YOU HAVING TO SEE THIS. AH FUCK. AND THAT GUITAR LICK, HOLY HOOKY. Shit. Shit I said it. I, I, I, I need you to leave. LEAVE. JUST LEAVE. LEAVE ME ALONE WITH "No Pressure", I'm fucking smitten, turned on, and damnit, you shouldn't see me like this. 

Did you send me this? Where did I get this? I came into work this morning and the soundcloud page was open and I don't remember anyone sending me this, I can't find any hits in my gmail when I search for Brass Bed or "I Am Just a Whisper", I don't follow either the band or the label on any social media thing. Where the fuck did this come from? That blasted Obama must've sent this to my workstation overnight. Thanks Obama! Imagine the reverby and dull, yet shiny reverberations of a Cure song, but without the whispy hair or desire to punch the singer. Then imagine my beloved Solid Gold, with their gentle yet plodding rhythms. Now put those two things together, add about 15 to the bpm, turn the tone knob down 35%, and slam your chin into your chest repeatedly. THIS...

I love songs that immediately make me feel like I'm being chased. Not that I actually enjoy being pursued, unless it's by all the paparazzi when I'm trying to get my kids into the car for school (I'm pretty popular in rural areas (I'm also lying)). But shit, Elephant Stone have crafted such a beautifully and oddly classical and intense chase-scene-tastic vibe with "The Devil's Shelter" that I'm now curious as to how the rest of their sound shapes up. I mean, after three listens I'm hearing so many fucking layers to this shit besides what's up front.  The sitar in the background takes the level of apprehension and douses it with this almost magical sheen, and those fucking strings, holy jesus balls on a holey ball of jesuses (jesusi?) this is a James Bond movie...

TOPS put out one of my favorite songs last year, a track called 'Outside'.  Fuck, this song held me close to its breast and wouldn't let me go. Listening to the warm wave of sensh synth is like being buried in your comforter in the morning and not wanting to get up because it's fall and you accidentally left the windows open again.  I never ended up checking out their full LP, but just saw that they dropped a new single called 'Hollow Sounds Of The Morning Chimes'.  AND they got me again. TOPS pulled me back in.  This track is thick and dreary, and has a sultry chiming guitar. It almost sounds like Real Estate is playing inside of Joel's steamy pants when he's watching a video on the mating habits of the Carniolan Honey Bees. SO HUMID. And the song just...