This just in…

You MUST see this amazing t-shirt site. Puts Threadless to shame.

Nonsek

I recommend Leigh Wells' channel

Here's an example I saved:




Of course, the best ones weren't saved…and I'm obsessed. Again.

Photographs, images, art

I've been meaning to post some things from some friends.

Many (probably most) of my co-workers are incredibly talented. Some more visibly than others, but I'll try to get more permissions to share their work with you.

This is a piece by Miguel Ovalle. It is a sculpture, a wall hanging and it's very large. Amazing. Apparently it took him some months to craft it.


Bryce is a DJ on WFMU. Dang. How'sit goin' Bryce?


John Roblin joined in on the cover-mania:

Subtle, I think. Hey did you do that one of "Ship Too Late to Save a Drowning Witch?"

Goopy is a wished-for friend, someone whose work I admire, get a laugh out of and generally makes me wonder about its author. Maybe someday, at a interweb hoedown, we'll meet. Prolly not.


The rest of these are borrowed images; respect to their original post-ers. Lemme know if you want me to not hang them on my cyberwall.

Why hockey is a violent sport

It's SUBLIMINAL, dude!

I'm officially obsessed with Continuum's 33.3

Good ole' 33 1/3 is having a competition. Being interested as much in words and images as in sounds, I just couldn't help myself. Here are my first drafts:


A dream come true would be Lester Bangs writing a blow-by-blow commentary on Metal Machine Music. If grating music and brilliant writing interests you, grab " Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung" - edited by Greil Marcus, of course. Obvious, I know.


Truly one of the best record covers, EVAR. And, I think, the album Eno wishes he produced. I suppose the logical next step would be Songs About F*cking by David Byrne.


Another brilliant cover and another source of envy, this time for Lou himself. Heck, I just want to acknowledge this as one of my all time faves.


I thought of asking Andy Warhol to write this one, but Greil would be the "perfect storm" for this classic album/cover combo.

This last one is probably the most remixed/mashed/copied album cover of all human history. Here are just a few I grabbed from the interweb for you:

Tributes to the image:







Reflexive: ie, pop will eat itself covered in whipped cream.



Some people made their own versions:

courtesy of Danger S. Jones

courtesy of Walter and Veronica

Farm: A Sufficiently Peculiar Review #3

Farm, Dinosaur jr.
Jagjaguwar, 2009

By Miles Kowitt


Dinosaur jr. are back and in top form! The Massachusetts trio of J. Mascis, Lou Barlow and drummer Murph have managed a rare feat in the often fickle world of Rock and Roll; they have completed a successful reunion tour, made a worthy comeback album with 2007’s Beyond, and have continued on as a reformed band making a follow-up album that can stand proudly next to such classics as You’re Living All Over Me and Bug. Farm is a glistening, mossy slab of fuzz-box-drenched guitar tsunamis adorning 12 gloriously noisy, but melodic numbers in the classic Dino vein. All of the trademarks one would expect from a Dinosaur jr. album are here: the quirky cartoon cover art with its slime-green sasquatches, the rumbling bass-lines, the distorted “Cortez the Killer” meets Mary Chain guitar squalls, the self-effacing slacker lyrics, that lethargic, nasal wine of Mascis, the catchy-as-hell choruses, and those heart-breaking melodies floating just beneath the murk. Destined for Indie-classic status, tracks like “Pieces”, “I Want You to Know”, and “It’s Over” offer a more pop-friendly approach that somehow loses none of the heft that Mascis and company have always packed into a song. Barlow, who sat out Dino in the 90’s to focus on Sebadoh and other Indie-rock projects, offers up 2 originals, as he did on earlier albums, showing a darker, almost-gothic side of the band. Mascis’s trademark amp-up-to-11 guitar solos still have the intensity to melt brain-cells, but it’s his keen sense of melody and uncanny ability to write a great hook that proves him to be a master of his craft. Farm easily joins the ranks of great summertime driving albums; so roll down the windows, crank up the stereo, and hit the highway, Dinosaur jr. are along for the ride.

Farm is available via Jagjaguwar Records

What is peculiar; what is sufficient?

I've been thinking. Thinking and not posting. I have oh so many plans for this blog, don't you know. I says to myself, "Wouldn't it be nice to post something daily?" And self says, "Yes, you go ahead and make your humanoid plans, hah!" I'm done making promises to you, my friends. It's July 4th almost and I've not delivered my Summer Festivals calendar. Prolly won't happen anytime soon. Mos' likely won't be posting daily, either. But you know I'd like to do so, and that will have to suffice for now.

I've been thinking that most of what I've posted hasn't qualified as particularly peculiar. Not that I profess to know what is peculiar and what is not. That, I assume, is for oneself to decide. But I didn't name this blog as I did in order to set any sort of qualification as to what could or could not be included. Then, again, there are those moments when I feel that I am in touch with the sublime and those are the moments I wish most to communicate to you. So, I'll make a little list. Why not.

1. I went to a wedding last weekend and sat at table with Ken Butler. He is, if nothing else, sufficiently peculiar. Among the many deep thoughts he shared with us was the proposition (maybe his, maybe not) that those who hoard piles of books or records or picture postcards might simply be responding to a deeply uncontrollable urge to build a nest and line it with stuff in the instinctual manner foretold us by our ancestors the reptiles/birds. He did not play his pocket trumpet.

2. My work computer's hard-drive crashed and died last week. Very destabilizing in its effect on me. I lost some music, no big deal, really. But I started out with a blanked-out iTunes library, so, naturally, I copied the discs that I bought that day (confession: I buy stuff most every day.) And, wonder of wonders, I liked a couple of the albums.

3. They are A: Kleerup by Kleerup and B: Topless at Arco Arena by Wonderlick. Get yer own damn links.

4. That's enough for now. More soon.

Why're they the best?

Why is it that my favorite band, my favorite TV show and my favorite magazine all have the same name? I am truly perplexed by this. I am also truly amused by it. And, of course, I think you should love them, too.








If all that doesn't annoy, maybe this will:

While the Record Goes Around - The Playmates