Here’s an hour of songs from first quarter 2014 that are quite good.


  1. Tink, “Treat Me Like Somebody”
  2. Duke Dumont ft. Jax Jones, “I Got U”
  3. Schoolboy Q, “Man of the Year” [review]
  4. Nicki Minaj, “Lookin’ Ass Nigga”
  5. Future ft. Pharrell Williams, Pusha-T & Casino, “Move That Dope”
  6. ft. Miley Cyrus, French Montana & Wiz Khalifa, “Feelin’ Myself” [review]
  7. Florida Georgia Line ft. Luke Bryan, “This is How We Roll” [review]
  8. Lydia Loveless, “To Love Somebody”
  9. Cloud Nothings, “Psychic Trauma” [review]
  10. Taking Back Sunday, “Flicker Fade”
  11. Issues, “Stingray Affliction”
  12. Coldplay, “Magic” [review]
  13. Betty Who, “Heartbreak Dream”
  14. Kyary Pamyu Pamyu, “Yume no Hajima-rin-rin”
  15. G.R.L., “Show Me What You Got” [review]
  16. Rico Love, “They Don’t Know”

Non-Spotify bonus tracks:

(Source: Spotify)

Still think this is one of the better things we’ve ever done.

Still think this is one of the better things we’ve ever done.



OK, we were kidding about Skrillex, only because we have a bro-country quota to fulfill.

Jonathan Bradley: Florida Georgia Line’s “Cruise” remix was the “Accidental Racist” that did make sense; a Southern party song that found the midpoint between hip-hop and country and made the difference between the two sound trivial. (Remember, it was Nelly who rapped, “Hey country girl, this country boy like everything about you.”) “This is How We Roll” is missing a genre-crossing guest star, but for all intents and purposes it doubles down on “Cruise,” with rap cadences on the verse and adoption of comfortably mainstream hip-hop slang for a hook. Constructed from a gleaming 18-wheeler sized guitar riff, Florida Georgia Line rebuke stalwart traditionalists straight-off the bat — their mixtape has a “little Hank, little Drake,” which probably describes a lot of country boys’ playlists these days. With its nods to car culture and backwoods hedonism, it’s a song that echoes Killer Mike: “We’re all Southerners. We all talk with these drawls and twangs. We all go to the race track on Sunday. We all go fishing. I don’t have a Dixie flag on the back of my pickup, but it still has mud flaps and big tires … I am that redneck guy you’re talking about.” Special guest Luke Bryan takes it to the church: “We cuss on them Mondays, and pray on them Sundays.” Amen.

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

This is totally one of the best songs I’ve heard all year. Not sure I shouldn’t have given it a [10].

Anyway, one outtake that failed to make it into the Jukebox podcast is the part where we spent five minutes talking to each other about how pretty Shakira’s hometown is.

Anyway, one outtake that failed to make it into the Jukebox podcast is the part where we spent five minutes talking to each other about how pretty Shakira’s hometown is.


My dad has been substitute teaching at my old high school and today he emailed me photos of graffiti on this door.

Rap Data "Analysis" from FiveThirtyEight

Some ideas are from kind of my fun and dark side. I like eyeballs and blood. For my “Pon Pon Pon” costume, my stylist was kind enough to put a lot of eyeballs on my pants.

fairmanrants asked: i heartily commend you to get that blog piece you wrote published on The Conversation or some such outlet. Not that tumblr ain't rad.


oh, and i’m talking about the Australian nationhood piece, by the way. realise that last message was somewhat vague.

Thank you! A few other people have suggested similar things, and I am investigating my options in terms of fora interested in 2000 word navel-gazing thinkpieces on the subject of national identity. ;)

As The Conversation goes, however, I lack the academic qualifications to be published there.

In search of Australian nationhood

I don’t usually reblog my own things, but I was foolish enough to post this thing about Australian national identity at, like, 2 a.m. Sydney time, so here it is again.


Nations are, by necessity, people united by common mythology. Sometimes that mythology arises from ethnic solidarity. Sometimes it is the product of a shared ideology. Others, as in the case of many post-colonial states, it derives from the mere legal fiction of internationally acknowledged boundaries. But nations do not exist without some kind of common purpose.

This is a problem that has particularly vexed the nations of the new world. Old world states define themselves in ethnic terms, and date the birth of their nation to the creation of their ethnic identity. This is the case with the French, the Russians, and the Japanese, and it is a conception of nationhood untroubled by sects who do not consider themselves bound by it, be they Basque, Chechan, or Ainu. The equivalence between nationhood and ethnicity is the reason why these societies have, in various ways, had such trouble adapting themselves to receiving immigrant inflows: if to be a French citizen is to be of Gallic heritage, what is one to make of French from North Africa or the near East? Should the nation continue to be ethnically defined, or can it find a new (excuse me) raison d’être?

The problem is both alleviated and compounded for states of the new world. The citizens of nations like the United States and Australia cannot with any awareness of history claim their nationhood derives from ethnic commonality. In such countries, settlers displaced, and now exist alongside, indigenous populations. Immigration has created culturally and racially pluralistic societies. There are not ethnic Australians the way there are ethnic Swedes or Thais or Greeks. Our nationhood cannot be defined by the forefathers of our citizens.

Being the first country to sever its ties with the British Empire, and having done so through armed rebellion, the United States was among the first modern society to consider this conundrum. Its determination, haltingly applied — through the inconstant expansion of citizenship and personhood to blacks, to its indigenous peoples, to immigrants — was that theirs was a nation founded upon an idea. To be American, unlike to be Portuguese or Dutch, is to find nationhood in the state’s civic religion, and especially, in the documents that express it: the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights, the Constitution, the Emancipation Proclamation, among others.

Australia, since its inception, has faced a similar problem to the United States, but we have not so readily found a solution to the conundrum of our nationhood. We are clearly not an ethnically united population: our continent’s original inhabitants are Aboriginal; our numbers have included Irish since the 18th century and Chinese since the early 19th century. And yet we feel ourselves to be more than a legally defined entity: we are a people with a common culture, common ideals, and common patriotic symbols.

The United States found its identity in rebellion and, later, in internal conflict. Australia, however, has experienced no great unifying upheaval. Its birth was legalistic, not military. Edmund Barton is no George Washington. Indeed, the story of our nation has been one of the slow process of creating a nation. When we ask who we are, we are answering the question even while we pose it.

Read More

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10