Videos

Goddamnit. This is my fucking soooooooooooooooooooooooooong. I had JUST gotten over the itch to listen to this whenever I headed into work and here they go dropping the visuals for it. So now my addiction to this fucking song is back front and center. Can we all agree that Onry is the fucking dude we all act like when we're around people we don't know personally? Jesus balls on a beige buick that dude is fucking chill as shit.  Talk about a perfect fucking song with a perfect video. We're all locked in this motherfucker, at least it feels like it, and that wall looks pretty fucking big bro. But maybe there's a way out? Shit, let's follow Onry Ozzborn.  FUCK. "Flee The Colony" is fucking perfect.  And can someone point me in the direction of some Nate Quiroga music? Dude is...

I've hit play on this video six times in a row. This song reminds me of my sophomore year in high school, with its bar chords and denim jackets and dirty ball caps. I fucking love it. Nevermind the references to the bees bro, this song is fucking awesome. AND IS THAT LITTLE MAN TATE RIDING SHOTGUN BRO? IS THIS A JODIE FOSTER MOVIE IN DISGUISE BROS?!?!?! I don't remember if I'm a fan of Thrice or not, but I fucking love this song and I hope when someone sends me more Thrice it's as titties as this is, all nostalgic and shit. "Black Honey" is some seriously 17 year old Joel shit bros. 

So, yeah, let's move Moondog Matinee from the "bad ass record makers" column and now sit them astride the line between that category and the "kicks fucking ass live" column.  Holy fucking pipes. This dude sounds like the entire year of 1979, cocaine, Jack Daniels, and dropping out of school at the same fucking time.  Then around 3:45? SIMULTANEOUS FUCKING GUITAR FUCKING THAT IS BOTH EROTIC AND SENSUAL. It's like the Allman brothers were given an effects pedal and a pair of button down shirts with shiny snaps on the breast pockets and they filled each breast pocket with more breasts than could physically fit inside a breast pocket, so the pockets are actually overflowing with titties.  There's the tag line: Moondog Matinee, overflowing snapped breast pockets that are overflowing with...

Once I got past the image of a few of my own friends blowing their fucking brains out, this is actually a dope fucking song.  Sure, I don't totally understand the video. Sure, I'm a dick when it comes to glorifying or portraying the act of suicide for entertainment's sake. Sure, I loathe the idea of the shock factor used only to shock, with no actual merit behind it. Sure, I think I kiiiiinda get the 7 deadly sins aspect of the video's plot.  But I'm not here to dissect the social ramifications of making the disgusting act of fucking killing yourself part of your music video bro, shit, I'm just some dumbass with a bunch of dead friends and a question mark over my head when I watch this shit from Funeral Suits.  Hopefully the album or whatever follows this up makes more sense visually,...

I don't know who John Presnell is, but he MURDERS THIS. As a guy who runs a pharmacy as his day job, this is the creepiest, most on fucking point music video I've ever seen. The fact that our government allows prescription advertising in every form of media is so unbelievably disturbing, it's a wonder there ain't drug advertz in cartoons and porn and porn cartoons.  "Pills" is so beautifully and romantically vivid and completely fucking sad on its own, but the video just drives it home in a way I haven't seen before.  Nice fucking work dude. 

I've been listening to this woman's new EP for the last two weeks, on near repeat. The delicate anger that's pouring out of Sykoya is addicting as fuck.  Pulling from a calmer sort of Florence + The Machine meets Sarah McLachlan's Fumbling Towards Ecstacy album, Sykoya is beautifully creepy electro that feels half erotic, half suspicious. "Closer" is a perfect demonstration of the imagery I already had flowing around in my head and loins. It's cold, it's desolate, but it's somehow fucking gorgeous enough to keep playing over and over and over. I love this shit more than I probably should. 

Jesse Mac Cormack always sounds so fucking pained. Like this dude can't watch someone suffer without suffering alongside them. Like this dude can't get his dog neutered without breaking his teeth from the empathetic clenching of his own jaw. I have loved how completely handed over to his music he is. He never sounds like he's anything but 125% invested in whatever the fuck he's singing. "Repeat" is more of Jesse Mac Cormack's trademark drowning in his own narrative, and with all of the starts and stops and speeds and slows, it's like dude just threw a Dr. Zhivago in song form in five and a half minutes.  Fucking breathtaking. 

This video is the 5,987th reason I love White Denim. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that anybody who grew up playing guitar would look up guitar tabs of their favorite songs on the internet and learn how to play along with said songs. Fuck, when I just started learning to play guitar I had to go out and buy tab books for $20 because the internet was in it's early stages. At the time, as far as I was concerned, all the internet had to offer was AOL chat rooms and half the time I was kicked off because my sister would pick up the phone to call her friends.  GET OFF THE FUCKING PHONE I'M CHATTIN' WITH MY FRAAANDS ON AOL!!!! ...fucking dial up. We had it so hard. (That's sarcasm you fucking grumpy ass baby boomers) And if you play guitar you can remember that first song that sucked you...

YAWL blows me. Consistently.  Whoops! Forgot a word bro. YAWL BLOWS ME AWAY.  It's like every time I assume I know what the song is going to end up sounding like, or what I think the video will look like for that song that I think I know what it'll sound like, well, shit just goes the other fucking direction and I'm left standing here with my johnson in my hand. The sullen, yet somehow hopeful, "Sundial" has that grating buzz behind it that's almost like a bed of luxurious fettucine covered in butter. It's comfortable, sure, and writhing around in it is pretty erotic if I do say so myself. Hell, I've never felt a butter-coated noodle there before. But it's the sheen that that simple strummed guitar sample creates that makes this song so fucking memorable. I can find beauty in...

I fucking love Howard. They're a complete enigma to me, but I fucking love Howard. I've been dipping my piddle dripper in their last album, while obsessing over their REMIXING of said album into new music for a few months now. (A piddle dripper is a penis btw. I just made that up. Use it in your own nomenclature when out in public, see what happens. Take credit for its creation. I'm cool with it.) I love how this shit just feels like a perfect soundtrack to wake up to. It's rubbing your eyes and dealing with the dawn of a new day type shit. "Glass" is the sun creeping in through the blinds by illuminating the outline of your succulent backside so your wife thinks you're supes hots. (YES, SUPES. I'm TWELVE.) When this remix album finally drops, I'm going to shit seven individual...