Posts tagged "music"

New Boyz ft. Tyga – Cricketz
“Oh my god, why they jeans so tight?” It’s really impressive the extent New Boyz have adopted an understanding of fashion as transgression, and they do it far more successfully than Lady GaGa, for instance, does. “You’ll never see me care about another man’s jeans,” Legacy lectures, responding to supposed implications of homosexuality with an implication of homosexuality. It’s not quite progressive, but there’s a cheeky refusal to engage with hip-hop’s oft-draconian prescriptions for masculinity. (Even while guest Tyga taunts “other niggas Brunos: homies with homos.”) The New Boyz aren’t looking at the haters, they’re looking past them, at the neon-colored sunshine of a Southern California ruled by wit, irreverence, and light-footedness. There are hints of the old trickster archetype, but Legacy and Ben J hardly seem to be concerned with subverting any system—the role the trickster is supposed to play—from within or without. FYI to those bogged down in 20th century hang-ups: the New Boyz don’t give an F-word about you.[8]
Jukebox says [7.57]

New Boyz ft. Tyga – Cricketz

“Oh my god, why they jeans so tight?” It’s really impressive the extent New Boyz have adopted an understanding of fashion as transgression, and they do it far more successfully than Lady GaGa, for instance, does. “You’ll never see me care about another man’s jeans,” Legacy lectures, responding to supposed implications of homosexuality with an implication of homosexuality. It’s not quite progressive, but there’s a cheeky refusal to engage with hip-hop’s oft-draconian prescriptions for masculinity. (Even while guest Tyga taunts “other niggas Brunos: homies with homos.”) The New Boyz aren’t looking at the haters, they’re looking past them, at the neon-colored sunshine of a Southern California ruled by wit, irreverence, and light-footedness. There are hints of the old trickster archetype, but Legacy and Ben J hardly seem to be concerned with subverting any system—the role the trickster is supposed to play—from within or without. FYI to those bogged down in 20th century hang-ups: the New Boyz don’t give an F-word about you.
[8]

Jukebox says [7.57]


The Hold Steady - How a Resurrection Really Feels

She crashed into the Easter mass, with her hair done up in broken glass,
She was limping left on broken heels, when she said, “Father,
Can I tell your congregation how a resurrection really feels?”

Probably the best Easter song of all time, and only partly because it is set on Easter, is based on the Easter story, and contains the lyric, “I’ve laid beneath my lovers, but I’ve never gotten laid.”

Happy Easter, fam.

52 plays

I never got around to posting all my reviews from The Stylus Decade here, did I? Well, considering I just posted up the Greatest Easter Song Of All Time, I might as well post my write-up of the sort of Easter-themed album it came from, Separation Sunday, by the Hold Steady.
Upon the release of Separation Sunday's follow-up, Boys and Girls in America, the Hold Steady’s new label Vagrant made available for download a podcast of Craig Finn talking about a few of his favorite songs growing up in Minneapolis. These tunes, by bands like the Replacements, Bad Brains, Soul Asylum, Gorilla Biscuits, and the Descendents don’t usually come up much when critics discuss this band’s influences, but there’s as much of those lurking in the sound of Separation Sunday as there is the more obvious bar band touchstones. That ‘80s punk sound is sewn throughout Craig Finn’s lyrics, of course. While first album …Almost Killed Me was soundtracked by “Only the Good Die Young” and “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” the follow-up was soaked in the scene: “She’s got those Bones Brigade videos,” Finn shouts on the opening track, in reference to Halleluiah a.k.a. Holly, the album’s subject, muse and ingénue (“She knew it back and forth/She slept with so many skaters”). If Separation Sunday is about a scene, then it must be about a town as well, and that town is the icy Minnesotan burgh of Minneapolis-St. Paul. “When we hit the Twin Cities, I didn’t know that much about it,” says Finn in “Stevie Nix,” but he knew “Mary Tyler Moore, and Profane Existence” (that’s a local hardcore zine, not a religious state), and he knew enough to set his story’s action in bars like the Thunderbird, local pick-up haunts like Loring a.k.a Penetration Park, and make reference to specific suburban addresses like “Nicollet and 66th.” It sounds like a wild time, but though these parties start lovely, they get druggy, and they get ugly, and they get bloody, and the album’s story proper centers around little hoodrat Holly’s hallucinogenic baptism down by the Mississippi River; it relates how a Catholic girl with religious text tattooed into her skin, who’s going through “real hard times” with “some not sweet friends,” winds up gatecrashing a church and instructing a congregation as to “How a Resurrection Really Feels.” If that all sounds a bit confusing, perhaps it’s meant to be; you could construct an encyclopedia from Finn’s rich references to rock ‘n’ roll lore, Twin Cities trivia, and biblical doctrine. But its sprawling, ambitious narrative is held together through staples as classic as bread and wine: Tad Kubler’s pounding guitar riffs, Franz Nikolai’s E-Street pianos and ecclesiastic organ swells, and a smart turn of phrase in every second couplet: “She got screwed up by religion/She got screwed by soccer players”; “I’ve laid beneath my lovers, but I’ve never gotten laid”; “You remind me of Rod Stewart when he was young/You’re passionate, you think that you’re sexy, and all the punks think that you’re dumb.” At the forefront of a wave of punk-derived, classic rock revivalists, Separation Sunday was the sound of a scene getting born again. Amen.

I never got around to posting all my reviews from The Stylus Decade here, did I? Well, considering I just posted up the Greatest Easter Song Of All Time, I might as well post my write-up of the sort of Easter-themed album it came from, Separation Sunday, by the Hold Steady.

Upon the release of Separation Sunday's follow-up, Boys and Girls in America, the Hold Steady’s new label Vagrant made available for download a podcast of Craig Finn talking about a few of his favorite songs growing up in Minneapolis. These tunes, by bands like the Replacements, Bad Brains, Soul Asylum, Gorilla Biscuits, and the Descendents don’t usually come up much when critics discuss this band’s influences, but there’s as much of those lurking in the sound of Separation Sunday as there is the more obvious bar band touchstones. 

That ‘80s punk sound is sewn throughout Craig Finn’s lyrics, of course. While first album …Almost Killed Me was soundtracked by “Only the Good Die Young” and “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” the follow-up was soaked in the scene: “She’s got those Bones Brigade videos,” Finn shouts on the opening track, in reference to Halleluiah a.k.a. Holly, the album’s subject, muse and ingénue (“She knew it back and forth/She slept with so many skaters”). 

If Separation Sunday is about a scene, then it must be about a town as well, and that town is the icy Minnesotan burgh of Minneapolis-St. Paul. “When we hit the Twin Cities, I didn’t know that much about it,” says Finn in “Stevie Nix,” but he knew “Mary Tyler Moore, and Profane Existence” (that’s a local hardcore zine, not a religious state), and he knew enough to set his story’s action in bars like the Thunderbird, local pick-up haunts like Loring a.k.a Penetration Park, and make reference to specific suburban addresses like “Nicollet and 66th.” It sounds like a wild time, but though these parties start lovely, they get druggy, and they get ugly, and they get bloody, and the album’s story proper centers around little hoodrat Holly’s hallucinogenic baptism down by the Mississippi River; it relates how a Catholic girl with religious text tattooed into her skin, who’s going through “real hard times” with “some not sweet friends,” winds up gatecrashing a church and instructing a congregation as to “How a Resurrection Really Feels.” 

If that all sounds a bit confusing, perhaps it’s meant to be; you could construct an encyclopedia from Finn’s rich references to rock ‘n’ roll lore, Twin Cities trivia, and biblical doctrine. But its sprawling, ambitious narrative is held together through staples as classic as bread and wine: Tad Kubler’s pounding guitar riffs, Franz Nikolai’s E-Street pianos and ecclesiastic organ swells, and a smart turn of phrase in every second couplet: “She got screwed up by religion/She got screwed by soccer players”; “I’ve laid beneath my lovers, but I’ve never gotten laid”; “You remind me of Rod Stewart when he was young/You’re passionate, you think that you’re sexy, and all the punks think that you’re dumb.” At the forefront of a wave of punk-derived, classic rock revivalists, Separation Sunday was the sound of a scene getting born again. Amen.


So who’s buying this crap? It’s impossible to know exactly, but if my recollections from Christian summer camp are any indication, kids in cloistered religious communities are desperately eager for anything that looks and sounds like “cool” secular youth culture yet still makes it through parental approval.

Eric Grandy, “Give Up: God Hates You and Owl City is Proof,” The Stranger, March 30, 2010

Yes, OK, I like this and want to believe it, but I feel like I need to be a bit credulous toward such a suspiciously satisfying explanation.


Nice & Smooth - Sometimes I Rhyme Slow

Too much of anything makes you an addict.


Christian youth, secular music, etc.

aceterrier:

It’s been a long time since I was immersed in Christian teen culture, but my memory is that parental approval isn’t nearly as big a deal as peer approval and self approval. Christian teens don’t need their parents to scare/bully/guilt/persuade them into buying/liking crap that sounds vaguely like slightly scarier crap — they can do it all on their own. My friends and I fell in love with Creed* because we genuinely felt the angst of “My Own Prison” and the longing of “Higher,” not because Mom and Dad read the lyric sheet and okayed it.

The last time I checked in with Christian contemporary crossover, it was all post-grunge soaring choruses and angsty vocals (Lifehouse, Switchfoot, Evanescence); Owl City at least brings the references up to the twenty-first century.

There’s something more to say about the role that “indie quirk” has traditionally played in Christian pop, but it’ll have to wait until I can marshal my resources and really dig into Daniel Amos and Steve Taylor and Mike Knott and a whole vanished sub-subculture to which Owl City isn’t so much heir as faded echo.

*That’s an exaggeration; we pretty much liked them until they were everywhere, just like any scene hipsters.

Yes, that’s exactly the complexity I was looking for. Thanks!


Ley del Rap - Yaba Daba Du (Jerk Bow)

This is dummy retarded. Jerk mixed up with reggaetón. I’d like to hear some more of this kind of thing.

(h/t Rodney J. GreeneWayne & Wax)

EDIT: And how about them Portishead/Smoke City samples? Am I imagining those?


OMFG

I NEED TO START A BAND CALLED LORELAI AND RORY.


King Diamond Ace - I’m Ridin Diamond Jewelery Rims Spinnin 

Word to the Raindrop Hustla:

The King reps North Renton but I thought I heard some references to Missouri too? This song kinda blew me away in that it’s not a song, just a hella garbled-ass chant about riding what sounds like the most expensive rims in the world; random, unintelligible audio creeps in, chiefly dogs growling and whining.

Breaking: Jonathan Bradley and Douglas Martin announce new Seattle band.

Breaking: Jonathan Bradley and Douglas Martin announce new Seattle band.



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